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samspenandsword · 2 years

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SFW Alphabet: Plo Koon

Summary: SFW Alphabet for everyone’s favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon. Pairing: Plo Koon/reader; gender-neutral, humanoid reader with no other mentions of their appearance. Rating: GEN — SFW Warnings: None — allusions to war and violence, fluff, relationship firsts, family dynamics, overall romance. Word Count: 2.7k

Woooo boy lads this one took a while to crank out. My focus has been elsewhere lately, but I was determined to finish this because I love Plo and he deserves some love. I hope you all enjoy!

You can find the template I used here

NSFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

So incredibly affectionate. More than he probably should be as a member of the Jedi Council, but this man has so much love and affection to give. Much of his affection comes in the form of words — words of affirmation, compliments, deep, meaningful conversations. He will speak with you about everything from the nuances of the Force to where to get the best meiloorun shake on Coruscant. And every conversation with you, even if it’s silly, is just so incredibly heartfelt. Plo wears his emotions and heart on his sleeve, just as blatantly as he wears the symbol of the Wolfpack.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Plo as a best friend sounds like actual heaven, not gonna lie. Endlessly caring, a selfless sort of best friend who is concerned with you above all else. Very paternal, as is his nature. Will fuss if he thinks you’re not taking proper care of yourself. But he is, 10000%, a totally shameless gossip. And he could spend hours indulging your need for mindless Jedi gossip, including but not limited to the fact that literally everyone knows about Anakin and Padmé, Obi-Wan sits like a whore during council meetings, Mace Windu has the worst sweet tooth in the galaxy, and everyone has had a crush on both Kit Fisto and Depa Billaba at some point, it’s lowkey a rite of passage.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yes. Cuddles all the time. Plo will indulge every cuddle urge you have, gladly and happily. Rest your head on his shoulder, let him stroke up and down your back. Lay your head in his lap and fall asleep to him scratching and massaging your scalp.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I would definitely think of Plo as a domestic partner. Man is pretty self-sufficient as a Jedi, but also as a Kel Dor. His physiological needs are so different from the gross majority of the Order (also the galaxy) that he can take care of himself pretty well. Cooking for himself, cleaning, meeting his specific needs, etc. This man also considers it a matter of pride to be able to take care of others. He is definitely the sort of friend and partner who is happy to do your laundry when you’re burnt out. And he is 10000% the type to gently place you in his lap and lightly scratch your scalp, or even read to you if he senses you just need some quiet alone time cuddling with him. Moments like that are some of his favorites in your entire relationship.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

As a Jedi, I don’t see Plo getting into a relationship unless he’s all in. He has to be willing to break the Code, but also hide your relationship from both the people he’s closest to, but also the people you’re closest with. I think it would take a lot for Plo to end his relationship, but if he did, it would be because he was trying to protect them. He’s a war general who’s constantly in danger, a member of the Jedi council, outspoken supporter of clone rights, and that comes with a target on his back and no guarantee of tomorrow.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is more than a little important to Plo, and he really appreciates a partner who feels the same. Everything about your relationship takes a commitment that reaches “beyond” levels. More than just commitment to each other, it’s commitment to secrecy, commitment to boundaries, awareness and willingness to accept the reality of your situation — that you can’t go on regular Tuesday night dinner dates, that you can’t show affection in public, that you can’t even publicly admit to your feelings. But even beyond that, Plo appreciates someone who is committed to their family, their ideals, their friends, their job, their hobbies. It’s such an attractive trait to him. So yeah, commitment is huge to Plo.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Plo can treat you as gently as you need him to. He can sense where your thoughts and emotions are every time you’re together and can adjust his tenderness and attentions to however you need. He is such an accommodating partner it’s ridiculous. Plo is, to his core, a caretaker. All he wants is to care for you, however you need. And if you need gentle care, he will more than readily give it to you. But if you need something more outspoken, firm, reassuring… He can and will give you that as well.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Plo’s hugs are like being cocooned in a blanket fresh from the dryer — warm, encompassing, comforting, leaving you a little cold and bereft when they’re gone. Plo offers hugs and physical touch much more readily than other Jedi, and he has no qualms about taking comfort from hugs and touch himself. Your relationship, whether platonic or romantic, has no shortage of physical affection. However, if you are someone who isn’t necessarily comfortable with that, all you have to do is tell him and Plo will understand. He will never push or violate your boundaries, and actively works to care for you in whatever way you need.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This might be the one milestone in your relationship Plo hesitates to reach. Even between you, using those three little words feels like a bridge that once he’s crossed, he can never come back from. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, but Plo might actually feel a little anxious to use the L-word, knowing that he very well might die in the war and leave you alone. He might hesitate to use it, as it feels like a much bigger violation of the Code than your entire relationship. But with that said, Plo will ultimately never fail to acknowledge to himself and you how he feels. But it simply might take a bit longer than normal to get to the point of him using the L-word.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don’t really think jealousy is Plo’s thing. Protectiveness is though. The closest Plo comes to true jealousy is when he sees other couples out and about in public and he gets a little saddened by the reminder that he can’t be with you publicly. Also he gets a little frustrated when people flirt with you, but he trusts you to handle things like that. But Plo is a protective partner. He likes you knowing that he’ll always protect and take care of you, no matter what.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses with Plo are… I don’t want to say non-existent, but yeah, essentially non-existent. At least, not in the traditional sense. Plo is always a little dejected by the fact that he can’t give you traditional affection. But you two have developed your own form of physical affection. He very much loves every time you place a kiss over his antiox mask. Or if you brush your lips over his palms or knuckles. He loves the feeling of your lips on his skin. He, in return, has taken up the habit of gently nuzzling you. Placing his forehead on yours (a gesture he learned from his clones), nuzzling against your temple, even against your shoulder and neck. He also returns affection with his hands — stroking over your cheeks, your knuckles, your back, your neck, your scalp. It’s his special form of affection. And it’s just another thing that makes your relationship as unique and special as it is.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Plo Koon??? Around children??!??!? Sign me up! Even if you and him have decided that you don’t want kids for yourself, seeing him around children and the younglings at the Temple is such a treat. All the kids absolutely adore Plo. And he never hesitates to pay them all a visit when he gets back from a particularly long mission. He gathers them around and tells them stories and exaggerates them the perfect amount to keep them all endlessly hooked and entertained. Not to mention he radiates such paternal energy that pretty much every youngling at the Temple has accidentally called him “dad” at some point (another rite of passage). Plo himself also loves children, he finds them so refreshing and comforting and is considering becoming a creche master after the war is over.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Plo is absolutely a morning person. He very much enjoys getting up with the sun, preparing breakfast in the comfort of his apartments where he can go without his mask, meditating, maybe even reading a little. Mornings with Plo are calm, comforting. On the rare mornings you can spend together, he’s the type of partner who will wake you by gently stroking your hair and telling you he’s made you breakfast. Even if you aren’t a morning person by nature, it’s hard not to enjoy domestic mornings with Plo.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Plo likes to spend nights in. He’s truly not one for going out on the town, though he might enjoy accompanying you to your favorite restaurant every once in a while, even if he can’t enjoy the meal with you. He prefers to stay in and read with you, talk about your respective days, maybe even indulge in a holo-series.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I don’t think Plo is necessarily closed off, but it might take a while for him to share his deep emotions with you. He’s happy to talk about his upbringing, the Order, the accomplishments of his Wolfpack, and even some of his missions with you. But talking about the underlying emotions, the distress the war causes him, how tired he feels, the heaviness of the Force weighing on him throughout the war… That will take longer.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Plo has the patience of a saint, even more than most Jedi, who are notorious for being neutral and patient. He is one of the few Jedi that has the patience to work through and discuss emotional outbursts, which is another reason he’s so popular with the younglings. He doesn’t make them feel shamed for not having the best handle on their feelings. And for that matter, he never makes fully-trained Jedi feel ashamed of their moments either.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Yes, Plo remembers everything. He makes it a point to. You mean so much to him, he cannot bring himself to forget anything about you. And he gets a little embarrassed if he does. Remembering things about you is how he gets through long campaigns and deployments, in the thick of battle and destruction. Remembering you and everything about you has become a sort of peace for him amongst the chaos of war.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship is the time he walked into your apartment and found his wolfpack sprawled around you, all practically cuddled up to you, while watching a holofilm. You didn’t complain as Boost and Sinker bickered practically the entire time, and answered all of Comet’s questions with a smile. But what really sold it was his commander. Wolffe, closed-off, ornery, doesn’t-like-strangers, touch-adverse Wolffe, had his head in your lap, and practically rumbled with content as you massaged his scalp. Nothing felt more like coming home than the image of Plo’s loved ones all together, safe and sound.

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

Plo is naturally protective. As a guardian of peace, and someone who grew up learning that life is something to be protected and safeguarded, it is simply in his nature to be protective. But he’s never smothering. He never makes you feel coddled or babied, and you love that about him. And he appreciates every time you accommodate his protective tendencies. Because even though he will always worry about you, he is comforted whenever you let him shower you in protective love.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Plo doesn’t plan the biggest dates and gifts in the world. Nothing elaborate, or extreme, or over-the-top. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t put effort into doing things for you. Instead, his gestures are smaller, intimate, more personalized to who you are. A date to your favorite ice cream shop. A gift of your favorite tea and a new teacup to go with it. A small weekend getaway to Naboo for your anniversary. Folding your laundry while you nap. Restocking your kitchen without prompting. The little things that let you know he truly knows and loves you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Okay I love him but Plo has the absolute weirdest habit of not accidentally answering questions. You can ask him something and he’ll think the answer and then forget to speak aloud. He always gets a little embarrassed when it happens, and sometimes it’s a little annoying, but over time it just becomes amusing.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Plo has never been super concerned with his looks. But sometimes he feels a little conscious of how different he is from you, and how he can’t give you traditional affection. He can’t kiss you in the way someone else would be able to. But Plo can feel your emotions through the Force, and knows how much you love him regardless. So no, Plo isn’t very concerned with his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You have become a very rare solace for him in a galaxy that’s tearing itself apart. So while he doesn’t necessarily feel incomplete without you, the only time he feels at peace anymore is in your company. With you, he doesn’t have to hide his distress over the war, the worry he feels for his men, who are for all intents and purposes, his sons. He doesn’t have to hide from you, and for that reason, he cherishes you more than he can ever express.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Plo does that dad thing where if he sits in a comfortable chair for more than thirty minutes, he’s liable to fall asleep. He has fallen asleep during long council meetings before. Yoda and Windu absolutely know and while Yoda finds it absolutely hilarious, Windu went through stages of being frustrated by it, to becoming resigned to it, to finding it amusing but being unwilling to admit so.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who complains and is unable to accept his other commitments. Yes, he is committed to you, but he is a Jedi and a general (as much as he doesn’t like it) first. If you are unable to understand and accept that then there will be problems in the future.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Plo is a relatively light sleeper. In fact, he sometimes describes his version of sleeping as more of a dream-like trance. Only when he’s really tired does he fall into a deeper sleep. He also, like most Jedi, experiences visions during his sleep. Mostly snippets, nothing that ever makes sense. And waking up next to you soothes him in a way meditation can’t. Which is why he takes every chance he gets to sleep beside you.

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dexters-bluemilkshakes · 2 years

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i made "the 501st goes to Target", "the disaster lineage goes to Target", "The Clone Wars Squad ™ (+Satine) goes to Target", "The Rebels go to Target", "The Original Trilogy Gang Goes To Target", “The Driods of Star Wars go to Target (chaos ensues)”, and now I give you:

the 104th go to target

Wolffe: whenever wolffe is at target, he makes sure to stock up on eye drops. he has always been super bothered by arid weather drying out his eyes, and when he got his cybernetic eye, it only got worse. desert planets and all of the sand getting in the joints of his eye are tourture and he refuses to go through that kind of pain again if he can help it. he and anakin don’t interact that much, but when they do, they either talk about ahsoka, or s a n d .

wolffe also likes to walk with plo and they chat about the shenanigans the wolfpack pulled recently. they also use this time to talk about themselves. something about the warm lighting and the close shelves creating a sense of cozy closeness has always helped wolffe relax a bit and gets him to stop calling plo “sir” off duty. plo listens as wolffe talks about the chaotic clone commander (+ rex) group chat. wolffe also appreciates the advice plo gives him whenever he talks about this one girl who works at 79s that caught his eye. plo likes to to tease him, but in the end, he is the reason wolffe had the courage to talk to her at all.

wolfe also buys a LOT of snacks and tote bags and speeder-bike locks. because he loves his squad. he does. but a man has gotta eat, so he locks away his candy bars in a bag.

the boys always get into it anyway, and wolffe is 87% sure that plo helps break in. they leave his favorite candy for him though, and wolffe has a hard time trying to complain about them.

Boost: goes straight to the hair isle. sinker stands behind him, making pun after pun about the brand names of different pomade. boost started to frequent using a hair product obi-wan suggested to him. obi-wan was quick to insist that he himself doesn’t use it, but heard it was good through the space-grape vine. however, one time ahsoka told boost that he smelled like obi-wan, and its not like either of the two men wear cologne.

so naturally, boost and sinker make up elaborate stories about obi-wan being involved in some conspiracy with the hair product company. they build upon it every time they go to target. plo overheard once, and gave them a blank look. they shut up, but then plo quietly added that obi wan hides the product in his underwear drawer, according to ahsoka.

so.

the story continues.

boost also has a tradition where he lets sinker guide him around the store with his eyes closed, just to make sure he doesn’t hit any walls. boost will then randomly stop and thrust his arm out. whatever he points to, he has to buy. though sinker is only supposed to make sure he doesn’t run into anything, he has on multiple occasions steered boost into buying goofy things, like lingerie.

Sinker: though he isn’t even allowed to wear them, he will occasionally buy graphic tees. he really likes studying the art, and he keeps them in the drawers with the pint for their armor and gunships, and calls them “design inspo”. plo got him an actual book about how to create dynamic designs, and sinker looked at it for hours. he keeps it in the barracks on coruscant, and its one of the things he misses most about the planet when he is away.

sinker also has a love for monster energy, even though it makes him hyper for a full 24 hours. he’s literally had to go out running with some brothers on a different sleep schedule (or with anakin or any other person up at ungodly hours of night), just to get the energy out. his favorite is the meiloorun flavored one. he only ever gets one at a time. once he got two cans and saved the second for another night, but a shiny found it and that Did Not Go Well (the shiny is fine, he just ended up in medbay because he was shaking so badly. ten year olds with 20 year old bodies who are still ten consuming caffeine doesn’t mix well. sinker is 11. its only slightly better.)

the most noticeable incident is the time sinker bought a can, and then went to walk with boost. while drinking it. it the store. he was going crazy, and boost always returns his energy,

so cue chaos.

they saw a shirt with a wolf on it and started running around, howling. they then ran into the pen and pencil section, and started throwing pencil boxes. they ended up fighting over a handful of pens, all of which snapped, and ink got EVERYWHERE. ahsoka was there with them that day and peeked her head into the isle in time to see it happen. she took a holo-pic before running away, her brothers chasing her. they forgot to tell anyone about the ink. it became an inside joke between the three, and they laughed about it every time they were together. the stain was still there even when ahsoka was all grown up, and boost and sinker weren’t there to laugh about it anymore.

in fact, that stain outlived all of them.

Comet: comet is basically dad jr. he walks around with wolffe a lot, and they tend to walk in a comfortable silence. they can only trust each other (and plo) to say they’ll be quiet and then actually follow through. comet holds the list of things they need to get and steers the cart while wolffe puts things in and evaluates prices.

comet spends the rest of his time in the book section. he especially likes to look at dad joke books. he never buys any, but he memorizes and/or writes down jokes and tells them later. usually he likes to tell jokes when it’s completely silent or there is an awkward pause in conversation.

comet is also tasked with getting everyone’s caf orders from the space starbucks outlet in the store. he’s the only one who has the patience to actually stand in line. he also gets those glass bottles of frappuccinos but he always gets. so many. he genuinely thinks that they taste good, but its a running joke that the amount of bottles he gets is directly proportional to how many reports he does in one day.

Warthog: really likes playing tutorial games in the video game section. he doesn't have many games on his data pad, but he really loves videos games, especially ones that involve flying. plo bought the wolfpack a handheld console once, and while it officially belongs to all of the clones, warthog gets to hold on to it, since he uses it the most. plo always gives him enough credits to buy one new game per target trip for the “squad”. it always happens to be just enough to pay for whatever game warthog has been talking about the past few months.

he also sometimes will join up with boost and sinker to be the chaos trio ™. warthog likes more quiet pranks in comparison to the goofy and large pranks the other too pull, for example, he bought a pack of pens and left it on the bottom bed of boost and sinker’s bunk. the two never found out who it was, but they knew someone else found out about the pen incident.

(warthog had been one isle over, and figured out what happened).

warthog also really loves trying on ridiculous outfits with clashing clothes. the pack gets together and votes on the most atrocious outfit, a picture of which gets sent to the group chat to become the new pfp for the time being.

Plo: plo buys snacks and headphones and blankets and dad things ™ . He and comet and wolffe all pick out fun things to bring home to the pack. either something a brother mentioned they wanted, or a trinket that reminded them of someone, or just an extra blanket because boost and sinker keep fighting over them, the resident parents of the pack will make sure to grab it.

when doing his quiet walks with wolffe, plo talks about his padawan days, or goes into the detail on the plot of the latest thriller holo-novel he’s been reading. wolffe always gives him crap about buying flimsi copies of his novels for stealth missions, instead of just downloading them to a private data pad. plo always gives some line about the aesthetic, but really, plo only did it once to try it, and it annoyed his troopers so much he only reads printed novels now.

he participates in some shenanigans himself. he goes over to the bouncy ball crate and chooses one to carry with him through the day. whenever he senses one of his men nearby, he will gently float the ball over the aisles and bonk them on the head before quickly calling the ball back to him and running away.

he doesn’t buy much for himself, other than the headphones. he always gets cheap ones because often times they break or he looses them.

the rest of his money goes to buying things for his pack and ahsoka.

when ahsoka accompanies them, which becomes less and less frequent as the war progresses, he helps her pick out new boots for battle, because she wears out the soles very quickly. jedi are not supposed to have worldly possessions, but he found a lamp shaped like a loth cat, and if anakin can have a pod racing poster in his room, plo figured ahsoka can have a cute-shaped light.

ahsoka named the lamp after r2.

the time they went to target after ahsoka left, plo bought himself a loth cat lamp.

he named it after her.

+bonus:

they dragged along baby ‘soka: in the first days of the war, before ahsoka was even anakin’s padawan, they took ahsoka to their target. she goes FERAL oh its so funny. it was only her second time there, and it had been YEARS since she last went, so she was very excited. eventually wolffe stopped her by kneeling in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. he calmed her down enough for her to hop onto his shoulders so he could give her a tour. plo buys her a lemonade at the space starbucks outlet at the end of the day, and they went to dex’s for lunch, on obi-wan’s suggestion.

she l o v e s target so much that when she became anakin’s padawan, it was one of the first things she suggested they do to bond together.

#star wars #sw #the clone wars #tcw #commander wolffe #104th #clone trooper #clones #clone trooper warthog #sargent sinker #corporal comet #clone trooper boost #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper comet #plo koon #jedi general #jedi master #ahsoka tano

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flashthescalesian-art · 1 year

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first ever attempt at drawing Plo, and he actually came out good!

#plo koon #General Plo #jedi general #jedi master #jedi master Plo Koon #Jedi #star wars #the clone wars

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 11 months

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"FOR OVER A THOUSAND GENERATIONS, THE JEDI KNIGHTS WERE THE GUARDIANS OF PEACE AND JUSTICE..."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on "STAR WARS: Episode III" concept art for Jedi Masters/Generals Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi (both in "battle dress"), and an unnamed Wookie Jedi, artwork by Derek Thompson, dated 12-06-'02. Lucasfilm Ltd.

The gauntlet is a clever weapon redesign, I suppose, but you can see why George [Lucas] struck down the idea. You can't exactly reinvent the wheel, can you? The Wookie Jedi [padawan? Note the braid] would've also been a great addition to the film seeing as we've yet to see a Jedi of the Wookie species in a SW film. Battle-scarred Master Ki-Adi-Mundi has to be my favorite of all three concept designs, though, and it's damn near perfect concept art by which to sell toys with. A no-brainer!

Sources: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lightsaber_gauntlet, Twitter, & Facebook.

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coffeeandbatboys · 2 months

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Battle Scars (Wolffe x Reader)

Summary: Wolffe comes home to you, but when you learn about his injury, he’s afraid you’ll leave.

Warnings: mention of Ventress and the injury, angst angst angst. Hurt/comfort. Also Plo Koon calls reader little one, but in a father in law kind of way.

A/N these keep getting shorter and shorter.

You waited off to the side of the hangar, making your presence known but not too obvious. Master Plo Koon crossed it and stood before you. One of the few Jedi who cared about the Clone’s personal lives, he allowed the relationship between you and Wolffe to thrive in the shadows.

“He had an…incident. Physically, he will be alright. But he is emotionally unwell.”

Your breath hitched as you saw Wolffe coming out of the ship. Half of his face was bandaged, while the other was twisted in pain.

“Thank you, General, for taking care of him.”

“He is a good man, little one. He deserves it.”

As the general walked away, you noticed that Wolffe had not come any closer, staying on the other side of the hangar. So you made a move, crossing towards him.

“Hello, Cyare.” He sighed, turning the bandaged side of his face away from you.

You reached up to caress his jaw “Oh, Wolffe. What happened?”

A slight shake of his head told you something serious had happened. So you lead him away to the barracks, hoping that maybe he’d be more comfortable speaking in private.

“Wolffe you need to talk to me. I’ve been waiting all this time to see you.”

He mumbled something incoherent. You hummed in question.

“I’m surprised you even want to see me.”

Your heart sank. Did he think you wouldn’t want him because he was injured? You carefully placed your hand on the bandages.

“Is this what this is all about?”

He nodded. You leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss to the medical cloth. You were ready to pull back when his arms locked around your waist and he held you like he’d never see you again.

“I love you Cyar’ika. I can’t…I can’t loose you.”

You chuckled a little bit. “I signed up for your bullshit, Wolffe. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“I promise, love. Now want to tell me what happened?”

“Ventress. She…cut through my helmet.”

You thought for a moment.

“That’s something to be proud of. Not being killed by a Sith.”

He laughed dryly, holding you a little tighter.

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

#Star Wars #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #tcw wolffe #wolffe x you #clone trooper wolffe #star wars wolffe #clone wars wolffe #clones x reader

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dukeoftheblackstar · 7 months

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"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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ooostarwarsfandom501st · 18 days

Text

Reunion

Hunter x Fem! Jedi reader

Summary: you reunite with your old squad after Order 66...

Warnings: Mild descriptions of injuries, a bit of angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, Order 66 mentions, I think Hunter deserves his own warning as well ;-)

Hey! This is my first small one-shot on Tumblr. I have been writing a few stories and other things in my life, but it is not something I've done in a while, so it's probably not my best. But please, feel free to leave a comment with some ideas for other one-shots etc. Enjoy!

Kallar.

Worst kriffing planet in your life! Not so much the planet itself, but more the traumatic events that happened there.

Before the war, you were a young Jedi Knight. Your old master, Plo Koon, had supervised most of your training, and you were thriving. At least, until the war came and you were thrown into a big pile of galactic bantha shit.

At first, you served with the 104th battalion along with your old master. You and Commander Wolffe worked well together and things were always a little bit easier, when you did it together.

But after a bit you grew more and more restless, not really having a feeling of being useful - at least, as much as you used to have. You tried pushing those ridiculous thoughts away, but that proved a lot harder than you thought.

Although you loved the Wolfpack who had all become your friends, despite the Jedi Code, you knew it was probably time to move on.

That's when Clone Force 99 came into the picture.

Those boys were everything you loved and longed to be. Diving headfirst into battle with a more or less reckless plan, but somehow always pulling it off. Sometimes, it honestly surprised you how well they worked, considering there were only 4 of them.

Crosshair was the most difficult one to connect with. He didn't really understand the need for a Jedi General, when him and his brothers had always worked alone. You did understand his point of view, but you weren't going anywhere. You loved this squad. It took many rotations, but after a rather difficult mission where you saved his life in a daring manner, he slowly began warming up to you.

Then came Tech. After you got over his ridiculously huge brain, you started paying more attention to his, as his brothers call them, 'info-dumping's' and it turned out that they were actually quite interesting. And when Tech realized that you were paying attention and sometimes even asking him questions, he always found you whenever he had something new to share about the planet you visited, or when you discovered an animal.

Wrecker was the easiest one to connect with. He was a giant with a heart of gold, always making you laugh until you couldn't breathe, always showing some new work out, and always having a blast with you, whenever you blew something up together. Being friends with Wrecker came as naturally as breathing.

And then Hunter.

The dark, mysterious, smoky and broody Sergeant of Clone Force 99. The first time you ever laid eyes one you, you were afraid your heart was giving out. Everything about him was captivating. His eyes telling but a million secrets, his voice sending shivers down your spine despite saying the most regular things, his majestic hair that you one time were allowed to braid because the temperature on Tatooine was unbearable Maker even his scent drove you crazy. When you learned about his enhanced abilities, you instantly knew that he must have heard your raping heart, but by the little smirk he send your way, he seemed to like it.

Although you cared deeply for all the boys, Echo as well when he joined the squad, Hunter was different. Your relationship wasn't labeled or anything. But it definitely wasn't platonic either. Not judging by the looks you always sent each other, or the way you always looked out for each other, touching each other in some small way like fingers brushing against each other, a hand on your back or on his arm. It was something much deeper. And you both knew it was so wrong. If you were caught, it would mean the end. But that didn't exactly stop you.

Not until Kallar.

When the troopers turned on you and Master Billaba, and you were the only one who got away, albeit with a nasty blaster shot to your shoulder, you turned and ran and you didn't look back once.

You heard the news. The Clones killed all the Jedi.

Your world was turned upside down. You thought about your old Master, about your old battalion, but mostly about Clone Force 99. If you faced them, you knew, you wouldn't be able to kill them.

So instead, you ran.

And for a while you hopped from planet to planet, earning credits by doing small jobs here and there. You hid everything. Your lightsaber was safely tucked away on you small ship, and instead you carried a blaster. You changed hair color, clothes and everything else you could, to change your appearance. You were constantly checking over your shoulder, afraid that the Empire would show up. Or worse, Hunter.

And then you met Phee. Completely random on the street, when you were running a job for some wealthy family. You were weary of her first, but then she showed you Pabu and now you owe her your life.

Life on Pabu was something else. Calm, warm, and everyone was so nice. And the best part of it, no one knew how you were. It was perfect.

As you were on your usual morning stroll, you got a comm from Phee, telling you to come to the square and meet her new friends. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and you were excited to see who Phee had met this time.

"Alright Phee, I'm here. Now who are..." you trailed off, freezing in your spot, when your eyes came in contact with the ship that had been your home many rotations ago.

Your brain was working overtime to find the best possible escape route, but it was too late. Four heads turned and starred at you, their eyes wide and mouths open.

"Y/N..." Wrecker was the first to open up, a smile spreading on his lips. But when he took a step forward, you took a step back on instinct and you saw the hurt flashing in his eyes.

"We... we thought, you were dead... is it really you?" He tried again, but you still said nothing.

"Uhh Y/N do you know them?" Phee was obviously confused

"Well obviously she must be rather cautios of us, given the circumstances in which we saw her last. But I believe she looks to be in good health" Albeit a surprised tone, Tech spoke up, adjusting his goggles.

It was too much for you. You were scarred, you couldn't look any of them in the eyes, especially not Hunter. So you turned and ran. Just like you did on Kallar.

Ignoring the calls from behind you.

______________________________________________________________

They couldn't believe their eyes, when they saw you. Hunter had been heartbroken that day on Kallar, and he never thought, he'd ever feel better. Then Omega showed up, and he suddenly had a new purpose in life. But when he saw her standing there on the square... he felt his world turn upside down again.

"Who was that?" Omega asked carefully, making Hunter look at her with soft eyes.

"An old friend who we thought had passed away" Hunter explained, not wanting to go into too much detail right away.

"You should talk to her" Echo nudged him, "We'll go with Omega"

Hunter shot his brother a grateful look and rushed after his cyare.

When he found you on the beach, his heart did a flip. You looked just a beautiful as the last time he saw you. You had changed, yes, but you were still you.

"Y/N please don't run away again" he begged, and when you turned around and finally met his eyes, you had tears in them.

"I- Hunter" was all you said. All you could manage to say. You still kept a small distance.

"I thought, I had lost you. When the regs starting shooting at you and Master Billaba... we are not with the Empire, cyare. I promise" his words were firm, but his voice were shaking.

Carefully, he took a step forward, and you stayed.

"Why did it happen?" You asked, having about a million questions.

"It's a long story, why don't you come back and I'll tell you everything?" he moved closer and closer until finally, he stood right in front of you.

You felt yourself breaking again, tears streaming down your face as you let Hunter embrace you.

"Oh Hunter..." you choked.

"Cyare... I missed you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"I- I missed you too" you spoke, wiping your tears away after calming down.

For the first time you looked at him with love again, smiling softly at him. So much had happened. So much was lost. But now you had finally gained something again.

You didn't waist another second as your lips crashed against Hunter's, who let out a surprised groan, but quickly kissed you back, sneaking his arms around you as your lips moved in sync.

It was everything you and dreamed of for so long. It was perfect.

If possible, you pulled each other even closer and only pulled away to catch your breath, Hunter's forehead leaning against your own.

"Let's go back, I still have a million questions for you and the boys" you whispered, a pleasant smile on your face.

"On one condition" Hunter said, making you raise a brow at him. "No more hiding this. I love you, cyare. Will all my heart"

You didn't think it was possible, but your smile grew and you pecked his lips again.

"I love you too, Hunter. Now let's go back before Wrecker eats all the dinner"

And as you both laughed and bathed in the morning sun, you took his hand and for the first time since forever...

You were truly home.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, this is not my best work, but I still quite like it. Hope you all enjoyed as well <3 Again, feel very free to comment ideas for other one-shots etc. also, which characters you want to see. It can also be other clones or other Star Wars characters<3

Also - I probably wont be writing crazy smut, maybe spicy stuff but not full on crazy haha.

Bye <3

#star wars #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #the bad batch #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb tech #clone force 99 #tbb batcher #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x you

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

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Consider - Force Sensitive Fives

Fives, who is always a little too perceptive. Who's just a little too weird compared to his brothers.

Fives, who's able to read emotions as easily as breathing, and is able to warn his twin when a trainer is in a bad mood.

Fives, who whispers his nightmares to his batchmates, and they vary between comforting him and calling him out.

Fives, who's an excellent fighter, almost preternaturally so. He knows where the blaster fire is going to be before it goes there, and he always knows where his opponents are.

Who knows that he's not like his brothers, and does his best to hide his differences from everyone but Echo.

Fives, who avoids General Ti because that feeling in the back of his mind screaming at him to hide his differences until he's not on Kamino anymore.

Fives, who meets General Koon before any other Jedi. And it's both the best and worst thing to ever happen to him.

Fives, slotted into the Wolfpack with Echo simply because General Koon insisted on taking Fives as his padawan, and Fives refused to leave without his twin.

The chips get discovered a whole two years early because there's now a clone Jedi.

"Ah," Jedi Master Plo Koon regards the anxious looking young man curiously, "Forgive me, Wolffe. I wasn't aware that any of your brothers were force sensitive."

And Fives feels all the blood drain from his face while Commander Wolffe jerks in surprise.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #im on my fives bullshit

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kometqh · 3 months

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𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂..

Captain Rex x F!Reader x Fives Every night, without fail, you wake up crying, heaving as you realise the monsters of your nightmares have been long left behind on the battlefields you fought on alongside your beloved Clone Troopers, the 501st Legion. Every night, without fail, you note down all your thoughts and feelings onto paper, into your beloved Diary that your Jedi Master has given to you as a gift. What happens when the Captain and Trooper of the 501st get their hands on your prized possession? Word Count: 2845 Warnings: Very much unedited, most definitely not lore-accurate as I have just begun to watch Clone Wars. A/N: A spur-of-the-moment kind of fic, it will be a two parter story :) It does say Female reader as that is what I had in mind, however there are no pronouns or descriptions used that allude to the reader being female!

Your body shot straight up, sweat rolling down the side of your temple, shoulders heaving up and down rapidly through heavy breaths. You wearily scanned the area, the room you found yourself in, your bedroom, hidden under a blanketed darkness. You could vaguely make out the different shapes of objects in your room; the steel wardrobe, the desk seated in a faraway corner, the tall frame of the door. The small line of light that peaked through provided some comfort, some more visibly.

A shaky hand reached for the night light beside your temporary bed - a silver steel, upright lamp that provided a bright, white light. It didn't provide much comfort as hard white light flooded the room, but it was enough to convince you that the terrors in your dreams weren't physically present in your waking days.

Heaving a slow, heavy sigh, you slid back down into the pale comfort of your sheets, hugging a pillow to your body.

As you laid there, light still on, eyes shut, you were engulfed in the sound of deafening silence. You could almost hear the light buzzing of the mechanical structures of the ship, ringing in your ears.

You sighed again, turning your body to face the door. The light from the outside tickled at your eyelids, forcing them to flutter open. With a groan, you shoved your nose deeper into the soft material of your pillow, beginning to count down, hoping that, the mental image of numerous General's jumping up and down like innocent sheep, would lull you back to sleep soon enough.

Mini Skywalker's, Plo Koon's and Obi Wan Kenobi's cluttered your mind, hopping over a tall fence as you silently counted, 'One.. Two.. Three' and so on. It was definitely interesting image to think of, but in the meantime, it did little to stop your body from tossing and turning, heaving and sighing, twisting in your sheets.

With another, heavy sigh, you reached into your bedside draw, pulling out a small notebook and pen. You flipped it to the most recent page, jotting down the date and time, a small curse leaving your lips as you noticed the time; 01:25.

You were going to become a zombie at this rate.

Nethertheless, you began spilling words onto the page, the crease between your brows easing as time passed, the fast pace of your heartbeat steadying with each word that slipped past the boundaries of your mind.

By the time sleep had finally pulled you into it's clutches, your mind could tell the ship was leaving hyperspace, and approaching a new atmosphere, your diary and pen abandoned at your side, left open on the most recent page yet again.

You awoke when the ship had landed; merely five hours later. The metal hit the ground with a thud, successfully forcing your eyes open. You laid there for a long while, ears twitching as you listened to the distant sounds of clone troopers wandering the hallways, accompanied by loud chatter and laughter.

Those moments, those peaceful moments, where your men could take a moment to relax and unravel were your favourite. You fought hard to keep every single one alive, the guilt chipping away at your sturdy resolve, discipline and beliefs in the Jedi rules.

You had broken one of the most important rules from the very beginning; it was forbidden to form attachments. How could you abide by such a cruel rule, when you were stationed with the same men for the last three years, getting to know them, living with them, laughing and sharing meals? To you, such a rule shouldn't exist. You could tell many other Jedi also disagreed with it - Anakin Skywalker being one amongst many. Even Obi Wan Kenobi, whose rebellious personality did very little to hide his affections for a certain Mandalorian Senator..

Taking in a deep breath, you slowly opened your eyes, looking around the room.

A warm glow peaked through the tightly shut curtains, warming your skin in a gentle embrace. Even though your eyes burned with exhaustion, you had willed yourself to get up. It was already 07:00, your men were definitely up and ready for their mission briefing.

Though they'd have to wait a little longer, you supposed.

This was meant to be an easy, diplomatic mission centred around a Neutral planet. You and your troops, the 501st, would be ensuring the citizens' safety, and potentially discussing joining the Democratic Republic.

After spending some time getting ready, you left your quarters, silently stalking through the hallways, a distant rumble of the canteen ringing in your ears. The closer you got, the more shouts and lively conversations you could hear.

All of those men shared the same exact voice, but the small differences in speech patterns, accents, tone and volume, were enough for you to be able to distinguish between your squadron without even seeing any of their faces.

Tugging your robes closer to your body, you entered the canteen, heading straight for the food buffet. It was going to be a simple mission - grab some toast, some water, and escape before anyone could notice you.

And simple it would of been, if it wasn't for a certain Captain's sharp eyes and enhanced instincts; as if an alarm went off in his head anytime you appeared within his vicinity.

In no time, you felt his warm breath fan over the back of your neck, his chest close enough for you to feel the coolness radiating off his body armour.

"Good morning, Captain." You spoke softly, a hint of tiredness still laced within your voice as you blinked slowly, placing a piece of toast on your tray.

"G'morning General," His voice came out a rolling, warm rumble, directly by your ear as Rex leaned over you, "What are you having for breakfast?" He asked, his honey-brown eyes scanning over your food tray.

"Nuffin special, Captain, just a plain toast and water, how 'bout you?" You asked, moving away from the queue and to an empty table. You looked to Rex, noticing the corners of his lips tugging upwards, the sight warming your closed-off heart. You desperately wanted to cradle the side of his face in your palm, to soothe over the lines that wedged themselves between his eyebrows, noticing his exhaustion still showing even after a decent night's sleep.

"I've already had my breakfast with Fives and Echo, woke up quite early actually." He spoke softly, a chuckle escaping his lips as his palm rested on the small of your back, leading you to your seat.

Confusion took over your body as you sat down, bringing the toast up to your lips, taking a bite. "So, why are you here then, Captain?" You asked through a mouthful, eyeing him up and down, confusion clear as day across your face.

At that, his face hardened into one he wore often during meetings and battles, an uncertain heaviness clouding his eyes. His fists clenched atop his lap, his lips pulling into a thin line. He wished to discuss the mission with you; hoping to lessen the number of men needed. Though he wasn't sure how willing you'd be to give your men a small vacation, he still wanted to attempt to provide his brothers with some respite.

What kind of Captain would he be if he didn't consider his soldiers' health?

"Actually- I wanted to discuss the mission with you, General," He paused, breaking eye contact as his gaze dropped to his lap, then scaled back up to focus on the ice-blue, steel table separating the two of you, "I was thinking-"

"Thinking too much isn't good for you Rex, you've got enough lines on your forehead already." You joked, interrupting the clearly tense Captain. As you eyed him up and down with a soft smile, his shoulders visibly relaxed, the thin line his lips had become turning into the softest of smiles, his cheeks puffing up into marshmallows over the stretch.

"W-Well, I was wondering if you could allow my men to take this time to rest." He stated, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he eyed you from underneath a curtain of lashes. He was using his best puppy eyes, knowing very well what effect those had on you.

You blinked once, then twice, your eyes widening owlishly as you stared at Rex.

Was he.. Trying to woo you?

You sat just the smallest bit straighter, your shoulders stiffening as you begged the Maker for Rex to not pick up on the sudden stiffiness that clutched onto your body with a steel grip.

Why was he making things so much harder for you?

"R-Rex.. I'm not sure I-" You started, your stomach dropping as he released a defeated sigh.

"I know General, I know.. It's just that, after the last mission, we're all still quite exhausted." He spoke, his gaze unwavering as he leaned closer to you, his scent invading your nostrils. He smelled of the Canteen's breakfast, a faint scent of aftershave lingering over him. Had he shaved already? You never got to see more than a hint of stubble on his jaw and chin, before it was gone with the wind; like it never even existed.

That's why you were grateful for Fives; that man's goatee could never disappoint. You were sure a beard of some sorts would suit Rex so well - it wasn't too difficult to imagine with his brother around, serving as an example.

What would it feel like to feel the short hairs underneath your fingers? To feel the smooth skin of his cheek under your palm? The soft plushness of his lips against yours-

"General?" He interrupted your fleeting thoughts, a glint of hope shining in his eyes as you shook your head lightly.

It was the defeated, gentle sigh that gave you away.

If it were anyone else, Rex would never dare to ask such a question. But with you- with you, his men felt most comfortable, most safe. They respected you, and could feel you returning that respect every time you'd prioritise their lives over yours, telling them to retreat, to find cover as you had a handle on every situation, on every battle. You never abandoned them.

"Fine.. But I'll need at least one of you to accompany me." You paused, quirking a brow at the Captain, conveying your seriousness in just one look. "And I'll need the men to be on guard, okay? We can't risk being caught off guard if anything were to happen." You finally finished, your toast long forgotten, cooling down in the chilled canteen, as Rex graced you with the gentlest of smiles, his gaze softening the longer he listened to you.

He knew he could count on you, and he would prove to you that this wasn't a mistake. That it wouldn't be.

Clearing his throat, Rex stood up from his seat, rounding the table to you.

"Thank you General, I can assure you that the squadron will be ready for any and every circumstance, and I will personally escort you to the meetings. You have my word." He spoke, reaching his hand out for yours. Confusedly, you extended your hand into his grasp, a hint of pink dusting your cheeks as he pressed a swift kiss to your knuckles.

"R-Re- Uhm, Captain," You stuttered and paused, clearing your throat as you prayed for the blush to go away, "There is no need to thank me." You insisted, slowly getting up from your seat. His gaze followed you, tracing over your body with an unknown emotion hiding behind his thick lashes.

"Thank you General, now if you'll excuse me, I'll go inform the others that haven't heard." He stated, bidding you a goodbye, cheers following soon after as Rex lifted a hand, signing a thumbs up to some of his men behind you. Your gaze followed his form as you watched him exit the canteen, his head turning to look back at you one last time before the doors slid shut behind him.

"What the hell was that.." You whispered, continuing your breakfast as your thoughts ran at tens of miles an hour, a blush permanently settled on your cheeks.

"Captain, are you sure this is a good idea?" Fives asked as he adjusted his helmet, following Rex as they made their way to your quarters.

"Yes yes, I'm sure. She should be in here anyway." Rex stated, waving his brother's concerns off as they rounded the corner, your bedroom doors coming into sight. "Besides, she said we should meet her at her quarters before we depart." He insisted, coming to a stop by your doors.

Raising his fisted hand, Rex knocked on your doors three times before backing away, waiting for a response.

As a moment turned into a minute, and a minute turned into three, Rex knocked again, this time calling out your title. "General? Are you in there?" He asked, his voice raised in uncertainty. When he received no reply once again, he shook his head.

"I don't think she's in there." He turned to Fives, feet ready to start moving again as his brain racked over any other locations on the ship that you frequented. Fives looked at Rex, quirking a curious brow at him, though his helmet covered any and all expressions he shot in his brother's way.

"Maybe we should go in? Who knows, maybe the General got herself stuck in the refresher." He quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips as Fives made his way over to your door. Pressing a button, the doors swiftly opened before him.

Walking over to the doors of your refresher, Rex followed after Fives, taking his helmet off, unable to, unwilling to, stop his eyes from wondering all over your room, taking note of the lack of personalised decorations in your bedroom. There was a desk, numerous multi-coloured folders stacked neatly on top of it, a small lamp next to them.

He looked over your wardrobe, his fingers itching to pull it open, to see what other articles of clothing you owned apart from your Jedi robes.

As Fives knocked at the refresher doors, his helmet at his side, Rex inched closer to your bed, noticing a small notebook hidden just beside your pillow, still open on the most recent page. His fingers reached over for it, eyes scanning over the yellow-coloured pages, gloved hands gliding over the leathery spine of the small book.

"Oooh, what's that?"

Before Rex could react, the book was snatched from his grasp, his head snapping upwards to see Fives flipping through the pages, turning and closing the book, only to gasp. That had Rex's ears almost twitching, a curious brow quirked up.

"What? What is it Fives?" Rex asked, standing next to his brother.

The silence that followed made him uneasy, and leaning his head closer, he looked to the book, his lips gaping open.

"Do you see what I see?" Fives inquired, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned his head to Rex. All that Rex could do was nod in stunned silence.

"Y/n's Personal Diary.." Fives whispered aloud, eyes scanning over the firsts page.

A lump built up in Rex's throat, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides as Fives read over the words you had messily written in your diary, his heart thumping as he recounted each memory, a soft smile tugging at both brothers' lips as they could feel every emotion you had spilled out onto the pages.

Though they quickly scrambled to hide the small book behind their backs, interrupted by the sound of your bedroom doors sliding open.

A scream left your lips as your gaze landed on the two armoured men, heart racing wildly at the unexpected scare. Their gazes didn't linger on you for too long, a faint pink ghosting over their cheeks as they looked anywhere but you.

"H-Hi General, we tried knocking but-" Rex begun, unsure of how to explain why he and his brother were snooping around your quarters.

"We were worried that you got stuck in the refresher when we heard no answer, so we wanted to make sure you were safe and ready for our trip." Fives finished Rex's sentence, casting his brother and Captain a side glance, his lips stretched into an awkward, innocent grin on his face.

"R-Right.. Sorry, General, it won't happen again."

"That's quite alright, I'm actually flattered you men were worried about me," You spoke softly, hand covering your mouth as you giggled at their explanation, your heart warming at the thought that the two cared so much for your well-being. Though you wouldn't let yourself show just how much that thought made you blush. "Now come on, we've got meetings to go to." You exclaimed, waving the two men over as you made your way out into the hall.

Giving each other a knowing glance, Rex and Fives followed, quietly telling one another to hide the diary. Rex nudged Fives with his elbow, now too far gone to quietly and innocently return the book to its original place.

"Just shove it into your bag.." Rex hissed out through thin lips, rushing after you as he cast his brother one last glance, making sure the diary was stored safely in one of their backpacks.

#captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars #star wars #star wars clone wars #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fives x reader #clones x reader #501st legion #501st x reader #jedi #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #plo koon #galaxy #space

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swbumblebee · 7 months

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They were having a lovely cosy night. Some nonsense holodrama was on, the heater was blasting and Jedi Master and Time Traveller Plo Koon was idly scrolling through a pad contemplating a second glass of wine. From his own comfortable spot on the sofa next to him, his partner in time travel and Master of the Order Mace Windu sighed and shifted his feet of the caff table next to Plo’s own, not a moment before an alarm on his chrono went off.

Plo grunted questioningly at him, feeling uncharacteristically lazy and sleepy. The other man stretched as he stood up.

“Meeting with Cin about The Tournament” he mumbled back, gathering himself.

“Oh!”

Plo loved The Tournament. He’d missed it so much during the war, that first time round. The annual Coruscant Temple Sabre Tournament was something so special. Seeing aged Masters grumbling good naturedly trying to catch their breath, energetic young Knights teasing each other and Padawans gleefully egging each other on brought a sense of camaraderie and family that was lost forever once the war began.

“I’ll come with you” he decided, ignoring Mace’s surprised expression as he sat up with renewed vigour.

---

Plo tuned out as Mace and Cin Drallig, Battle Master extraordinaire, gestured at charts and catering costs on one of the benches in the corner of the main dojo. Neither seemed to mind his presence, Cin seemed unsurprised when they came as a pair.

While he left the boring logistics to the two senior Jedi he scrolled through the contenders list, comforted by the familiar names and intrigued by some interesting matches. It would be a lively affair.

He frowned, noticing something as he got to the Knights section.

Kab…

Kedib…

Kirin…

Krag…

He frowned further, checking the Senior Padawan section just in case.

Nope, not what he was looking for.

“Has Knight Kenobi not signed up for the tournament?” he asked loudly, interrupting the other two and not caring one bit. He got a pulse of mild irritation from Mace but interestingly, Cin simply let out a breath.

It wasn’t compulsory for every Jedi to take part in the tournament but there was certainly an obligation, particularly for Knights, to act as an example for their peers. To learn from each other and to inspire the next generation. It was just the Done Thing.

The Battle Master for the temple looked uncharacteristically perturbed.

“Kenobi…” he sat back and folded his thick arms, pausing, and Plo saw Mace’s face sharpen in stern worry.

“He’s been here… a lot, in the past few months. At funny times.” The scarred said, clearly picking his words carefully. “I’ve been helping him along, but most of the time I’m not here. I only see his name on the sign in sheet at all hours of the night.” He explained slowly.

Plo and Mace exchanged glances. That wasn’t good.

“Hmm. He didn’t sign up last year I assume, for obvious reasons” Mace asked with raised eyebrows.

Cin nodded.

“He’s changed his form since then, I’ve tried to ask him about it a couple of times but you know how he is.” He had a familiar look of exasperation on his face. Plo knew it well. When he didn’t want to, there wasn’t a force in the Galaxy that could make Obi-Wan Kenobi talk. Plo remembered it only got worse with age, to the infuriation of Sith across the galaxy that first time around.

Mace sighed and leaned back.

---

The Master of the Jedi Order cursed to himself under his breath and barely resisted the urge to grumble at nothing. He knew Obi-Wan somehow managed to function on dangerously little sleep (at all ages, apparently) but he himself had never managed to master the skill and his mood was as dark as the Courscant sky outside, at 3rd hour. Plo had offered to go, but Mace had a worrying suspicion it would end in a cuddle and a nap rather than what was necessary.

He was trying not to dwell on how suspicious he looked, loitering outside the main Dojo at this time of night, when his quarry came quietly and around the corner apparently deep in thought.

23-year-old Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi came to an abrupt and (rather comical) startled stop.

“Master!”

“Good evening, or should I say, good morning, Obi-Wan” Mace made no move to step away from the door to the dojo, but neither towards the young man in front of him.

“I…Hello there, Master. What…” the young man faltered, clearly still trying to find his footing. “What…are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

Mace noted he definitely wasn’t at his best. Obviously not as well put together as he was in the daylight hours, there was none of the usual perceptive glint behind his eyes, his hair had obviously been pushed hurriedly into place and his robe was nowhere to be seen.

Mace shrugged.

“Shall we?” he gestured to the door behind him, entering the dojo.

Obi-Wan looked at the door dubiously before following.

“So.”

They stood in the vast hall, facing each other. Mace was very conscious they had both taken up sparring positions. So be it.

“So” he repeated calmly. “Do you want to tell me why you are practicing at this force-forsaken hour or shall I beat it out of you?” he asked politely with a smile, shifting his stance a little.

The young mans eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what you mean Master, the Dojos are open all hours, surely encouraging practice at all hours” came the similarly polite answer.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He ignited his purple blade and assumed the opening stance of his favoured form, Vaapad.

“Come on then” he instructed the Knight. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened a little in surprise upon realising his mentor was serious, but then were filled with resolve as he too changed his stance.

And then immediately Mace Windu had the breath knocked out of his chest when, instead of the classic Ataru that he’d come to associate with the young Obi-Wan (indeed, the form he had become known for after using it to defeat Darth Maul) he was instead faced with the dramatic stance of Soresu.

He cursed himself, Cin had mentioned it but seeing it was something he had not been prepared for.

Lightsabre parallel to the floor and left arm extended with fingers pointing towards him, for a split second it wasn’t vulnerable, unsure Knight Kenobi Mace was seeing, it was the fearsome Master Kenobi. The Master of Soresu, and his comrade in arms. He’d seen that stance in the very worst of situations and every time it meant hope and determination.

“...Master?”

He was snapped back to the present by the slightly awkward prompt from the young man in front of him.

He grunted, trying to find his mental footing again.

“Not all of us are at our best at third hour young Obi-Wan” he grumbled, gratified when he got the ghost of a smile in response.

“Now then, let’s begin. And we will be speaking when I win” Mace warned, very clearly the Master of the Order.

Obi-Wan said nothing, his lips thinning as the match began.

---

The Master was gratified to see the young knight was panting a little as he yielded the match. Mace hadn’t won against Master Kenobi very often, in that first time around. It was good to know he still had some years left to enjoy it.

But not long, he noted. The young Knight was not there yet of course, but it he was good. Incredibly good for a Jedi of his level, using a difficult form. Mace was impressed.

“That was impressive. Very impressive Obi-Wan” he said, clapping him on the back as they both made to sit on the benches around the side of the dojo, Obi-Wan seemingly having lost the energy that fuelled his usual stubbornness, he allowed himself to be led by Mace.

“You’ve changed form.” the elder Jedi pointed out, cutting straight to the point. It was too early for beating around the munjabush.

“I have.” The young man beside him was looking at the floor as he answered. Mace felt the atmosphere in the room dip, the force tingling in his ears.

“Why?”

There was a pause. Obi-Wan kept looking at the floor.

Mace sighed.

“I hope you know, Obi-Wan, that you can tell me anything.” He said gently, projecting trust and safety at him through the force.

His young companion looked up at him with a watery smile. He took a breath.

“After Qui-Gon, after Naboo” he started slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully “I kept trying…” he faltered, a faraway quality to his voice.

“Every time I started Ataru, I was back there behind the ray shields.” he said softly, looking down at the floor again. “After a bit of trial-and-error, it appeared to be a trigger for me, so I decided to change forms. Soresu seemed like a natural choice, I have a Padawan to defend now after all.”

Mace starred at him, finding himself once again at a loss. He knew Obi-Wan had changed forms at some point, but he’d never really given it much thought first. Lots of Knights experimented with new forms as soon as they were out of their Master’s shadow. But they generally didn’t do it incognito.

“Is that why you’ve been pushing yourself so hard? Coming here at all hours on top of everything else?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

His companion cleared his throat.

“It was difficult, at first. I didn’t…didn’t want anyone to know in case…” He trailed off.

Understanding dawned for Mace.

“In case you couldn’t do it.” He clarified, dismayed when he got a silent nod in return.

“Obi-Wan” Mace didn’t quite know what to say, working very hard to release his complicated emotions into the Force before the suddenly fragile man next to him picked up on them. Not least his slightly irrational anger.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t think we’d reject you or punish you because you couldn’t pick up a lightsabre.” He asked with a groan. The young man looked up at him in shock at the judgement in Mace’s tone. Giving him his answer.

“Er…”

Mace turned to him and shook his head in disbelief.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are a talented, intelligent person who is an asset to the Order in more ways than I can list at this time in the morning. You are worth far more than your warrior skill” he took a breath, taking in the bewildered and slightly alarmed face next to him. “And I am sorry that that hasn’t been made clear to you.” He finished with a gentler tone, shame swelling slightly within him.

He felt a slight tug on his bond with Plo, the other Master picking up on the maelstrom he was feeling. They’d have to meditate later.

Obi-Wan obviously didn’t know what to say, and Mace was satisfied to let the words sink in for a moment.

“Do you think, perhaps, that it might be prudent for you to speak to someone about all this?” he suggested lightly. “We have an entire wing of Mind healers for a reason, my friend.”

Obi-Wan chewed his bottom lip, looking achingly young.

“I don’t know” he said slowly. “Qui-Gon never really liked…” he trailed off again, looking at the floor.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Yes well, Force love him he was a good friend but Qui-Gon was a complicated man and let’s be honest, could be a bit of an idiot at times” he said, making sure his fondness for his old friend was obvious, pleased when it brought another watery smile out of his young friend.

“Maybe.” He admitted.

Mace decided to take what he could get.

“Please think about it. If you like, Plo or I could go with you” he offered. This time he did get a full smile and a slight eye roll in response.

“I’m sure I can handle it Master, I’m perfectly capable-“

“I know I know!” Mace held up his hands in defence “Just the offer is there.”

He stood up.

“Now then, time for bed I think” he activated his Senior Master mode, suddenly all business. “Please stop practicing at stupid hours of the morning, you’re making Master Drallig nervous. Sign yourself up for some proper tutoring” he instructed.

“Yes Master” Obi-Wan stood with a bow of acquiescence before they moved together towards the doors.

“Oh and Obi-Wan” Mace caught him as they closed the doors and stood in the silent corridor. “Do think about signing up for the tournament. You have a lot to offer.” He suggested.

The other Jedi hesitated.

“I…I will Master” he promised with a dip of his head.

“That’s all I ask” Mace reassured.

After they separated with one final bow of goodbye, Mace leant against the cool wall in relief, letting his emotions wash over him and into the Force, with the Force equivalent of a grunt from Plo down their bond.

He’d never known about Obi-Wan’s seemingly classic case of PTSD. And the obvious fear of rejection made his unrelenting quest for perfection and independence, that first time around, make sense.

But not this time. Mace smiled. They had a long way to go, but acknowledgement and mind healers were good, and Mace and Plo would be there every step of the way. This time.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #Mace Windu #Plo Koon #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Knight Kenobi #Family #Fluff #careful #Mentions of #PTSD #woops sorry this one got a bit long!

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miseries-mistress · 1 year

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hey 👋👋 i love your fics btw your one of my favorite fic writers ❤️ could you do one where anakin and the reader get into a fight or argument and he grovels after? i feel like he’d be really sweet and cute and i’d love to see how you think he would be ✌️✌️

ILLIMITABLE CYCLES | ANAKIN SKYWALKER

Synopsis: Anakin overworking himself has become a regular occurrence for him. Not only is it affecting him, but your relationship too. He's shut himself off from anything besides his work, which in turn forfeits the little time you already have with him. So while your heart yearns for his undivided attention and his patience grows thin, the situation has become an argument bound to happen.

Warnings: brief mentions of female reader, insecurity, feelings of unworthiness, fluff, little angst, i think that’s it. W/C: 2506

Notes: sorry this took so long, things happened, and i am wayyy behind on requests (thank you for 300 followers 🫶)

star wars masterlist

"Patience, little one," Plo Koon chastised, and you couldn't help but slump at the tease that marred his voice. Plo Koon, your master, had been watching your anxious movements for quite some time, amused by your inability to sit still while you waited for Anakin's arrival.

After they called the Senate for aid, Anakin had been off with his battalion to end a separatist occupation in a Mid Rim system. While it had taken the Senate a while to agree and send troops to a system they didn't deem necessary, they still did so, and it just so happened that he was picked for a job.

It had been about four months since you'd seen him, and while holocalls did well to quell your anxiousness from being separated for so long, they did nothing to aid your loneliness.

As you waited for his return with your master and his commander at your side, you couldn't seem to quell your anxiety. Very un-Jedi of you.

"I wouldn't worry about it, kid. General Skywalker knows how to take care of himself," Wolffe tries, having noticed your anxiety as well. You attempt to smile in thanks, but you are interrupted by the roar of a ship's engine. It docks, the landing gear deploys with a hiss, and moments later, Anakin steps onto the gangplank, chatting happily with Rex at his side.

He looks up as he steps off the ship, and his eyes catch yours. A cocky grin spreads across his ash-bitten features as he quickened his pace. You meet Anakin in the middle and wrap him in a hug. The scent of salty sweat, metal, and ash clings to him like a second skin as you hold each other for an appropriate amount of time, breaking away a moment later.

"It's good to have you back, Skywalker." You smile, and he returns the gesture, stiffening when he notices the people behind you, primarily your master.

"I knew you missed me," he arrogantly replies, his grin twisting into something devious.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

Plo Koon clears his throat behind you, uncomfortable with the tension you unintentionally created as you turn to face him, embarrassed by your carefree show of affection. Wolffe, besides your master, smirks at you, his knowing expression proving all your suspicions that he had, in fact, read the tension between you and Anakin. You send a disapproving glare at him, which in turn fuels his assumptions and his cocky grin. The bastard knows exactly what's transpiring between you and Anakin and is planning to hold it over your head until the day you inevitably die.

"We better get going if you do not wish to keep the council waiting, Skywalker. There is much to discuss." With that, your master turns with an unreadable expression, Wolffe following him.

"This is your fault," you hissed, following behind him out of earshot.

"You love me," he teases, his eyes lighting up as he senses your frustration in your signature, pushing roughly against his, like waves against an ocean.

"You're lucky I do."

You two share a moment of silence, basking in each other's vibrant signature, content in the realization you both came back alive and well, your hearts still beating along the thriving bond you shared. That is until Rex comes from behind, a datapad clutched in his hands. "General, sorry to interrupt, but look at this."

Anakin takes the device, inspects the information, and turns to Rex, the atmosphere changing into something akin to earnestness. "This could work. Let's…"

Their voices wane into the background as they wander ahead, Anakin leaving you behind without a second's hesitation. No repentant glance, sympathy, or remorse was thrown your way, just nothingness as if you weren't worth his time.

You look longingly ahead and sigh, shaking your head. Anakin hadn't even been back on Coruscant for ten minutes, yet he had already been pulled and shoved back into his role as a general. Of course, you knew this was partly to blame for Anakin's lack of intervals and the nonexistent distinction between his work and personal life. Blame it on his stubbornness or arrogance, but Anakin's unruly behavior, while letting him get things done quickly, could be formidable to deal with. Especially now, with your relationship, he seems to set aside less time for you than you would have hoped.

You knew his role as both Jedi and general was strenuous and demanding, but his inability to make time for you made you feel unworthy of his. But, of course, you didn't bring this topic up with Anakin, for the last thing you want to do is worry him about something he cannot change. So you've resigned yourself to merely savor the time he graces you with, no matter how much your heart yearns for more.

—

The council meeting lasts longer than you imagined because Anakin doesn't return to your room. The night grows older, and you grow wearier, toying with the possibility that he's not planning to make an appearance tonight. Usually, if there was a change in plans, Anakin would comm you and let you know, sending you off with a good night of some sort. Yet there is none of that, no indication he's remembered you at all.

It's another hour before you decide to seek him out, tired of waiting for his fated arrival to join you in bed. So instead, you wander around the temple halls, searching places like the sparring mats, the meditation room, and even the library (which he so rarely visits), all areas Anakin could be in. Still, all you found were deserted dark chambers, just as cold and empty as you felt.

"Padawan? May I ask what you are doing at this hour?" You turn on your heel, coming face to face with Obi-Wan's concerned expression, his arms neatly folded over the expansion of his chest.

"Master," you bowed, "I was looking for Master Skywalker. I have news on the battle plans he has been working on."

He furrowed his eyebrows at your bold-faced lie, his pupils searching your face before he sighed, running his hands through his tousled hair. "Yes, well, Anakin is in the war room. I'm afraid he's been at it for hours."

You slowly nod, digesting the information with tactical precision before you reply with a grateful smile. "Thank you, master, good night."

He grants you a silent bow before resuming whatever he is doing, his shoes clicking along the marble floor.

With your newfound information, you head to the war room with a newfound determination, all while your mind spins at the news. It wasn't like Anakin was due for any missions or briefings with the council in the morning. In fact, from what you heard, he didn't have anything scheduled for the next couple of days. So why was Anakin out so late?

You stood in front of the room's tall, looming doors. You take a deep breath, calming your nerves with your fumbling hand on the handle. It was just Anakin. Why were you so nervous?

And with that, you twist the handle, sealing your fate as you step inside. There's no light besides the glow of the holotable that Anakin is pouring over, strategies laid out in front of his tired, hooded eyes.

"So this is what you've been up to," you announce, and Anakin's visibility jumps, startled by your sudden appearance. He looks back at the table as you step further into the room, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Sorry, sweetheart, the time got away from me. I promise I did try to–"

"Save it, Anakin," you huffed, your annoyance growing over his excuses. If he was good at anything, Anakin Skywalker always had a compelling excuse, anything to justify his actions and convince others of the same. You weren't frustrated over him working, far from it, but his lack of communication and divulgence since he returned has turned into normal behavior for him. In turn, he's closed himself off, shutting himself off from anything besides his one-track mind.

His lips curl into a pout at your frustration. "Awe, don't be like that."

"Like what? You made a promise, and you broke it. You're supposed to comm me whenever things change, Anakin. You never make time for anything besides this nowadays," you gesture to the holotable. "It's like I'm not even here!"

"I didn't realize you were so needy," Anakin teasingly remarks, but his expression falls as you cross your arms over your chest, huffing indignantly. "Look, I'm sorry, but duties first, you know that."

"Anakin, you and I both know that this can wait until tomorrow. You have two days off…just come to bed, please."

You're pathetic. Anakin must know this by now. You're begging your lover to step away from work to spend time with you. It's selfish, so incredibly selfish, to demand his time when he has more worthwhile things to do, things that can save lives, millions of them, but you're getting in the way of that. Pathetic.

"Later." It's a half-hearted monotone promise that he deems is suitable enough to throw your way like he's dismissing a needy toddler. Perhaps that's all you are.

"Fine," your voice is weak. The convictions from earlier are all dead and festering.

He glances at you, and his exacerbated eyes roll, his hands pressed against the curved table.

"Maker, can't you back off?" he huffs, his hand running through his hair as he paces, pushing off the table. Pathetic. You can feel it in his signature, rippling in dark, consuming waves. It's all he feels for you. It's all he can feel. It's overwhelming when he looks at you again with nothing but a hollow flame in his eyes.

You know that you're part of, if not the entire, reason Anakin is harboring such crippling annoyance and anger. However, you cannot help but wonder what provoked such an extreme reaction. Was asking for a sliver of his time really that burdensome, or did you only encourage him when he was already in a mood?

You shrink into yourself as Anakin huffs, his presence engulfing more of the room by the second. It smothers you.

"I said later, stop givin' me that look– Maker– I'll be there. Just give me some space."

"Oh." You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking away the tears that selfishly enter your eyes. Needy. That's all you were; desperate for attention and recognition from the man you loved so dearly. It made you sick. "Ok."

Your voice sounds weak and wobbly to your own ears, and you're sure he can hear how on the cusp of tears you are.

Anakin eyes find yours at the nearly debilitating shake in your words. However, this time they soften, and he's by your side in an instant, engulfing you in a hug. It's then, wrapped up entirely in Anakin that you crumble soft tears rolling down the plains of your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Gods, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he repeats it like a mantra, his hand rubbing circles down the length of your spine. You don't do anything but remain in his arms, your emotions raging and crashing against each other like a violent storm without end. You were angry; angry that Anakin could so easily cast you aside like you were nothing like you meant nothing, but at the same time, his words rang a bell of truth. You were clingy, desperate for praise and the attention of others to prove that you weren't as worthless as you often thought yourself to be, and because of that, Anakin got mad. Rightfully so.

Your tears died down, and he slowly lifted you from his chest, looking at you with those liquid pools of tenderness and apology. You couldn't stand it.

"Y/N, I'm so–"

"It's fine, Anakin. You were right. I'll take my leave." You didn't recognize your hollowed-out words as your own while you turned to leave, only for Anakin to hold you firmly, refusing to slip from his grasp.

"No– No, fuck, no, I didn't mean any of it. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just so tired after today and…" Anakin sighed, his head hanging low while his hands ran up and down your arms, a motion of solace.

"You don't have to make excuses, Anakin. I shouldn't have been so needy as to demand your attention all the damn time. It's my fault."

"No, it's not. Not at all. Don't say that. You aren't needy for wanting my attention, pretty girl. I should have paid more attention to how you were feeling."

"Anakin…"

"Hey, let me apologize for once, will ya'?" His hand snakes under your chin, lifting it to gain your full attention. "I was…wrong for all of it. I was looking forward to seeing you tonight, but I just got wrapped up in my work, and well, you know what happens."

It's an awkward sort of apology, but it's Anakin. So wholly and entirely him, it gets the point across of what he's so desperately trying to communicate.

"Anakin, what you are doing is important, and I shouldn't have demanded you to step away–"

"Maker, you really don't listen, do you?" he chuckles, his eyes skimming yours, almost as if he's trying to decide something before his hands slide down your shoulders, lowering himself to his knees. His head rests on your stomach as he takes a shuddering breath. Your heart thrums in your chest as you wildly search his body language for some explanation, trying to decipher what's transpiring in his head.

"You're not needy, sweet girl. You deserve more than the attention I give you. You deserve so much more- shit, it breaks me to see those pretty eyes of your cry. I…please forgive me."

Your hand moves before you can process it to his hair as you run your fingers through it. Anakin's words had quelled something inside you. Whether it was rage or insecurity, or both, you didn't know. The desperation in his words had you hanging off them like an oxygen source, greedily consuming any reassurance he offered you, and now with Anakin on his knees, begging you to forgive him with sincerity seeping into every crevice of his signature, it was easy for your following words to slip past your lips like a kiss of purgation, as cleansing as the taste of exoneration.

"I forgive you."

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