bamfahsoka

[bamfahsoka]

❤️ 💙 💜

“We made it, Rex,” Ahsoka reaches up, stroking the beard Rex has been growing for the last week. In the chaos after Endor, he’d been too busy to shave.

“Was there ever any doubt we would?” Rex replies, poking the fire. His smile is bright and there’s a lightness in the Force around him she hadn’t felt, well, ever.

“Maybe just a little. It was a bit touch and go there for…oh a decade or so…” she smiles in return, enjoying the sensation of having nowhere to be anytime soon.

Rex’s eyes darken, and the hand stirring the fire stops.

“Rex?”

“We have to make it worth it,” he says in a whisper.

Ahsoka gently pulls his head down, their foreheads meeting in a keldabe. “We will. For us. For all of them.”

+++

Part of my Fallen AU

The war is finally over. Anakin and his Separatist Empire have been defeated. Rex and Ahsoka finally find a few minutes to themselves and begin to reflect on everything they’ve gone through.

[bamfahsoka]

❤️ 😍

I trust him, and he trusts me

Summary: When Wolffe accidentally interrupts a private moment between you and Fox, dynamics change. And even though you’re mistrustful of most men and reserved with the intimacies of your life, you find yourself opening up to Wolffe. Much to Fox’s pleasure.

Pairings: Established Commander Fox x female!reader. Commander Fox x female!reader x Commander Wolffe.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI.

Word count: 7.6K

Read on AO3.

A/N: Please know that hygiene is of the upmost importance to me. I may not explicitly state in my works that people wash their hands before any type of sexual contact, but they do. Everyone always washes their hands.

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[bamfahsoka]

Love ❤️ 🐺 😍

Keeping You Around

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Summary: Commander Wolffe's assignment to embark on a reconnaissance mission takes an unexpected turn when he finds himself stranded with you—a development he was far from prepared to deal with.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, canon typical descriptions of violence and mild injury, mando'a nicknames, mutual pining, idiots in love arguing, Wolffe kriffs up, stubborn Wolffe is stubborn, but stubborn reader is stubborn. Fluff and slightly suggestive at the end.

Word Count: 3,700 (it was supposed to be like 500 but again, brevity is not my strength, okay?)

A/N: Real talk I wrote this in about 3 hours last night. Barely proofread bc I’m a dangerous woman trying to stop falling down editing rabbit holes at 3am. Lots of familiar tropes and scenarios ahead, but my goal was to practice writing conflict dialogue and thought Wolffe would be fun to try. Inspired to write this while watching Nick and Jess argue in New Girl S1E22 😜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cyar'ika!" Wolffe's voice boomed through the dilapidated hangar, the sudden sound of it nearly making you drop your spanner. "Cyar- Maker… there you are. What is wrong with you?!" Wolffe demanded as he strode over to you from a room off to the side, angrily trying to get his pauldron to snap back into place.

"Ah, Commander, I see you’ve regained consciousness," you said drily, not looking up from the panel you were rewiring. Your hands were growing tired, just like the rest of you from the tedious task of fixing the power supply in hopes of getting a signal out to the 104th.

"Care to explain why I woke up in a strange room with half my kit off?" Wolffe demanded, his voice a dripping with irritation.

"Because you were much easier to drag without it… and I needed to make sure you weren't bleeding internally while you were unconscious," you said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry—if I had time to wait for you to come around, I would have asked," you said, your voice losing its edge incrementally as you met his eyes for the first time. “Not like you would have admitted you were injured anyway,” you muttered under your breath.

He regarded you carefully, his expression severe. You could see his mind racing through a hundred scenarios while he’d been unconscious, though thankfully none had come to pass. His ARC trooper instincts kicked in as his eyes scanned the space for potential threats.

"Relax," you sighed. "I cleared the place, there's no one here. By the state of things I don’t think anyone has been here for a long time,” you gestured around to the various consoles and furniture covered in a thick layer of dust and debris. “Except for the scurriers, at least,”

"How… where's the shuttle?" he turned his head towards the closed hangar doors. No shuttle in sight.

"About 5 klicks east where we crashed it…" The panel before you flickered a few times, the power pulsing it to life before it cut out again. "Dank farrik!" you swore and kicked the side of it as the last of your patience with the blasted thing finally left your body. "It's no use, I can't keep the power on long enough to start anything up," you grumbled as you pulled yourself to your feet, wiping your hands on your flight suit in frustration.

When you looked up at Wolffe, he was staring at you with the same unreadable expression. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in your disheveled appearance and the scattered tools around you. His hands perched on his belt, mismatched eyes glittering.

"What?" you shrugged, slightly unnerved by his stern gaze.

"Where we crashed it, Lieutenant?" Wolffe's deep voice thick with implication. "The last thing I remember is you ignoring my direct order to put the ship down in that clearing."

"If I had, the clankers would have advanced on our position, cutting off what looked like the only civilian escape route,” you countered. "Landing further away drew them to us instead…it wasn’t part of the plan to get shot down…" you added as you remembered the chaos of the crash. The impact had been jarring, a barrage of tree branches cracking against the hull like breaking limbs. A second impact threw an already off balance Wolffe into one of the wall panels, knocking him out.

You managed to keep the shuttle in the air long enough to find a patch where the trees thinned out. In all honesty, it wasn't even your worst landing to date. As soon as it stopped moving, you immediately went to Wolffe. The shuttle was trashed, but you thanked the Maker one of the speeders stowed within it had survived. With great difficulty, you dragged Wolffe's unconscious form from the wreck, your muscles screaming in protest as you moved him to a safer distance away. There you were able to quickly assess his injuries, relief washing over you when you found a strong pulse and no signs of severe trauma. A few bruised or broken ribs, maybe, and thankfully he was wearing his helmet in the crash, but you still needed to check him for a concussion.

With Wolffe secured, you turned your attention to finding shelter, knowing that staying put wasn't an option. Your initial scans of the area indicated a hidden structure not too far from your position. So, with even greater difficulty, you heaved him onto the back of the speeder with whatever supplies you could quickly grab, and took off to higher ground.

“We’re both alive, relatively unscathed, gave the civilians a chance to escape, I handled it, Wolffe,” you reasoned, annoyed but not surprised at his reaction. Wolffe was a textbook control freak, but over the last year it had become almost endearing to you. Relishing in the way his eyes widened when he was flustered, or how his gravely tone would elevate ever so slightly when you pissed him off.

Like right now.

"Maybe if you listened to orders for once, you wouldn't have had to," Wolffe retorted, through gritted teeth.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, because you're such a shining example of following protocol?" Referring to all the times Wolffe and General Plo bent protocol to keep their men alive, to secure the mission’s success.

"That's different and you know it," he growled, taking a step closer.

"How? How is it different, Wolffe?" you challenged.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Because I'm trying to keep you safe, dammit."

"And who's been keeping you safe?" you raised your voice, your frustration bubbling. He bristled, but you could tell your words surprised him when he deflected back to you.

“You can’t just keep running into the fray like that, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Ok, that’s actually kinda hilarious coming from you,” you chuckled sardonically.

“You’re not a soldier…and lately you seem set on going against everything I say trying to keep you alive!” his voice grew louder with every word.

“Wow, Wolffe. Do you even hear yourself?!” the words came out of your mouth, stopping him in his tracks, scowling at his puzzled expression.

“What?" he snapped in a deep voice. His eyes blazed with both anger and confusion, clearly caught off guard by your outburst. The tension in the air was palpable as you both stood there, locked in a silent standoff.

“I can take care of myself, and believe it or not, I always have, with or without you around,” you growled. “And I don’t appreciate you making me out to be this fragile little thing who needs to be taken care of…I volunteered for this mission, and I dragged your heavy ass here away from the droids while you were taking a nap,”

“I wasn’t aware I was responsible for what happened while I was unconscious, cyar’ika,” his tone filled with warning.

"And I certainly wasn't aware that saving your life would piss you off so badly," you spat, your chest heaving with exasperation.

The tension between you simmered, neither willing to yield. Wolffe had been acting strangely ever since he learned you volunteered for this mission. His behavior grew even more peculiar when you were paired to conduct recon scans for command. It made sense—you were a decorated pilot, and he was a decorated commander—yet his unease was obvious.

While Wolffe is a lot of things, he is not someone who will willingly talk about his feelings. So you stood there, glaring at each other, both too stubborn to acquiesce. You were slowly moving towards one another, your determination coming off you in waves.

“When are you going to stop being so stubborn,” he said, chest puffing out slightly.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to do the same,” you hissed.

“Don’t count on it, cyar’ika.” he took another step in your direction. The clones were already formidable in their presence, but Wollfe’s brightly painted armor made his presence even more powerful. It took you gritting your teeth and clenching your fists at your side to quell the impulses that were firing in your brain. You closed the distance, showing you weren’t going to back down. Not on this.

“Well, Commander, next time I’ll be sure to avoid any missions you’re assigned to, then you won’t have to carry my ‘dead weight’ around…” you half regretted the words as soon as they left your tongue, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe— maybe you’d misheard things. But it looked like you were going down this road anyway.

His eyes flashed with anger, but also a realization at your words. For a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a sheepish anger that spoke volumes.

“Yeah Wolffe, I overheard you talking to Rex before we left,” you said as you bit back the fire in your lungs. “Ironic, don’t you think?” you sighed after a few long moments of silence.

Wolffe's conversation with Rex had echoed in your mind, each word a dagger twisting deeper into your heart, fueling your pain. You couldn't shake the feeling, the knowledge that someone you cared for so deeply likely saw you as nothing more than a burden.

His face fell as your words deflated him. “You…” he sighed. “You weren’t supposed to hear that…”

“Clearly. But now that I know how you really feel about my abilities we can stop pretending, so thanks for that I guess,” you looked at the floor, unable to keep the hurt from your voice now.

Wolffe's expression shifted, a sadness crossing his features. He reached out but stopped mid-air, unsure. "That's not... I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. "You have to understand, cyar’ika, the situation is-"

“Will you stop calling me that!?” You nearly screamed, your voice echoing off the bare walls in the hangar. You could have sworn he winced, the only sound being the wind blowing through the cracks in the door. Wolffe opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the right words.

"I would never speak about you like that, Wolffe, especially not to Rex," your voice was uncharacteristically small as you crossed your arms protectively. You had considered dropping the mission, faking an injury—anything to avoid this. But Wolffe was still one of your closest friends in the GAR; he'd have seen right through you. So instead, it lit a fire in you to prove him wrong. You knew it was childish to crave his approval, to want him to be proud of you. But what else could you do when you were desperately in love with the man?

Wolffe's eyes searched your face as he stepped closer, shoulders slumped incrementally, but his voice was low and earnest. "Those words were never meant to hurt you," he softly called you cyar'ika again. You ignored it, waiting for him to continue. "What you heard... it wasn't what you think." He reached out once more, but you stood firm against the pull of his warmth. "Please, let me explain?"

His tone was softer than you'd ever heard from him. A tingle ran down your spine as you glanced at his hand, then back into his tawny eye. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you raised your eyebrows, daring him to continue.

"I'm all ears, Commander."

Wolffe grabbed a nearby stool and pointed at it, which you took only after he took a seat on the stool opposite you. He suppressed another wince with a hand over his ribs, you’d apply more bacta later, you thought to yourself as your knees nearly bumped his, but you ignored that too as he let out a ragged sigh. Running a hand through his cropped hair, he sent a few tendrils astray and you had to avert your gaze to avoid being distracted by the sight.

"You’re right, I didn't want you to come here with me," he said quietly. When he felt you bristle and open your mouth to protest, he touched his fingertips to your knee, seeking permission before he continued. “But then you volunteered- and what was I supposed to tell you- tell them?”

“You didn’t think I could handle it,” you said softly shaking your head and shifting in your seat with your eyes still on the floor.

"It's not that," Wolffe said, his voice low. He leaned forward, his knuckle gently nudging your chin. When you looked up he was gazing at you with an intensity that made your heart thrum. You could feel the weight of what he was trying to say in his long pause. “I didn’t think that I could handle it,” he confessed, eyes guarded as he gauged your response.

Wolffe's confession caught you off guard, revealing a rare vulnerability beneath his gruff exterior. The bands around your heart loosened as understanding dawned, pieces falling into place. His overprotective nature, steely demeanor, and reluctance to have you on this mission suddenly made sense. Gently, you placed your fingertips over his where they rest on your knee, a silent acknowledgment of this newfound insight. But still, what he said to Rex still had its bitter sting.

“Anything would have been better than you letting Rex think I was a liability, Wolffe,”

“I know…I’m…sorry, I can’t even imagine how angry I’d have been if I were you." He paused, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m still angry,” you said quietly, but a glimmer of your softening resolve shone through, he saw it making his posture relaxing incrementally.

“And I deserve it,” he turned his hand over beneath yours, wrapping his gloved fingers around your palm. The gesture surprising both of you. “I’ll talk to Rex as soon as we get out of here- but I don’t even think I’ll need to once he reads our mission report,” he mused.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your conversation hanging between you. The anger that had fueled your argument earlier had dissipated, replaced by a different kind of tension. Wolffe's thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“I won’t make this mistake again, I promise you,” he said before he brought your hand to his lips, gently pressing them to your knuckles. You felt his breath fan over your skin, making your own breath stop in your throat at this unfamiliar, but not unwelcome side of Wolffe.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you moved your hand from his lips to his cheek. "We've always been quite the team," your eyes locked with his mismatched gaze. “We can protect one another. Together. I don’t need a savior, I just need to know you’ve got my back, as I have yours. I always will…”

Wolffe's eyes softened, a mix of gratitude and admiration shining through. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours in a gentle Keldabe kiss. "Always, cyar’ika," he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. "Together.”

You chuckled softly at his pet name for you. "Wolffe, why do you keep calling me that?" The question had been on your mind for a while, but you'd never asked before. Truthfully, you were afraid to know the answer. You'd always assumed it was some kind of teasing nickname, especially given how his brothers snickered whenever it slipped from his lips around them.

Wolffe shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. A strange and unfamiliar site, but you couldn’t help but smile internally at your ability to unearth this side of him. After a moment, Wolffe seemed to find some resolve. His gloved hand reached up and brushed a stray hair from your eyes. When you looked at his face again you swore you saw pink in the man’s cheeks.

Wolffe can blush? You thought to yourself, eyes growing wide at this information. “It’s mando’a��there are words in basic that would cover it, but it’s…it’s more like a feeling. A sentiment…” he trailed off. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "The closest thing I can think of is…darling, beloved," Wolffe swallowed, his voice low and tender.

The realization dawned on you like a class two Venator crashing down, and between all the tension from the mission and trying to survive on this rock, you could help but burst into a fit of soft laughter.

“What?” Wolffe looked confused.

“So it doesn’t mean ‘idiot’?” You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your giggles.

Wolffe chuckled, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "No, cyar'ika. It definitely doesn't mean 'idiot'." He paused, his eyes crinkling as they met yours.

“I sure feel like one right now,” you murmured, your eyes distant thinking back to some of the times it slipped out in conversation.

“I’m the dik’ut in this case, cyar’ika,” he gazed at you softly, hand brushing another stray hair from your face.

“Well…” you said, leaning in closer. Your skin flushed with the renewed electricity between you. “I suppose it’s alright, now that I know why your brothers have been laughing when you say it…”

Wolffe slapped his forehead. "Kriff," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'll need to have a word with them when we get back." His eyes softened as they met yours again, a hint of amusement dancing in them. "But right now, I'd rather focus on you, cyar'ika." His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he leaned in closer. "Have you any idea how long I've wanted to kiss that scowl off your face?" he said softly, his nose brushing against yours. He paused there, giving you time to pull away.

You scowled at him for good measure, “So, what are you going to do about it, Commander?” You whispered, eyes locked on his.

Wolffe's eyes narrowed, something swirling in their depths. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a tentative kiss. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he poured all his unspoken emotions into the gesture. When you finally parted, breathless and redfaced, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Believe me now, cyar’ika?”

"Yes..." you murmured dreamily, your eyes still closed. "But I think I could use a little more convincing," you added, savoring his taste as your tongue grazed your bottom lip. He grinned and leaned in again, this time with more fervor, eager to kiss you properly—to kiss you the way he'd always longed to but never thought he could.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed thickly, your eyebrows knitting together slightly. “What for?”

He put both of his hands on your cheeks, thumbs caressing your skin lightly. You found your eyes fluttering closed at his touch.

“For saving my life,” he whispered.

Your eyes snapped open. The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but smile, your hand coming up to cover his on your cheek.

“Don’t mention it,” you grinned. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance to repay the favor before we get out of here,” you chuckled.

“At least once, I reckon,” he huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “and about ‘cyar’ika’— I won’t call you that anymore, not if you don’t want me to. It just sort of…slips out…”

You interrupted him by ghosting your lips over his. “Don’t you ever stop calling me that…”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in to kiss you again. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself melting into his embrace. As you pulled apart, breathless and giddy, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this insane mission had been worth all the trouble after all.

“Now,” he said, reluctantly pulling away. “As much as I’d like to see where this goes, cyar’ika, we should probably get back to finding a way to contact General Plo,” he said with the faintest edge of regret in his voice.

“I would have gotten it working if you hadn’t interrupted me,” you teased.

Wolffe chuckled, shaking his head. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we'll never know now." He stood up, offering you his hand. "Come on, let's see if I can get that comm working while you get some rest. I can tell you haven’t slept since the crash," His eyes sparkled with a new affection and familiar determination, reminding you why you'd fallen for this gruff commander in the first place.

“I still need to check you for a concussion…” you pointed your finger into his chest plate as he guided you towards the room he’d just left.

“Oh I think it’s safe to say I am— so you’re just going to have to figure out a way to keep me awake tonight I guess, Lieutenant,” he said ominously, but his face gave nothing away.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Is that an order, Commander?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow at him. Wolffe's lips curled up in a rare, mischievous smirk as he pulled you closer, his voice low and husky as he murmured close to your ear. "Consider it a personal request, cyar'ika."

[bamfahsoka]

AU!!! I LOVE ME AUS AND IM WRITING A FANFIC FOR THIS ONE BC I CAN 🙏🙏

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

[bamfahsoka]

Love it so far! ❤️ 💙

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── captain rex.

SUMMARY | Newly knighted and unaccustomed to combat, you’re suddenly given your first assignment on the shadowy world of Umbara. Waiting on the planet’s surface is the start of a mission filled with death and deception—and the companionship of someone whose smile you never thought you’d fall for.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

A/N | look i'm in love with this man, i simply Could Not help myself from falling in love with him, and i felt the need to live vicariously through reader insert fics, so here we are (don't ask me why they sent two generals in place of one, it's for the purpose of the fic). also, the reader is female, and i've decided some details such as former master (OC) home planet, and name (because i despise using y/n). everything else is up to you!

WARNINGS | fluff, angst because this is the umbara arc, SLOW BURN, star wars curses, death (no major characters), blood/gore, suggestive themes. the whole shabang.

STATUS: WIP | TAGLIST | Last Updated: May 13, 2024

──── CHAPTER ONE

SUMMARY | after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.

WORD COUNT | 3.9k

WARNINGS | combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it

──── CHAPTER TWO

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

──── CHAPTER THREE

COMING SOON!

[bamfahsoka]

Hahaha get wrecked Fives! 🤣

(too soon???)

Y/n: Get out of my room!

Fives (being a little shit and standing outside the doorframe): I’m not in your room!

Y/n: REX-

Fives: Hey! No fair! You can’t just call the captain every time you want to get your way!

Y/n: Fine

Y/n:…

Y/n: FOX!!!

Fives (immediately running away): That’s so much worse and you know it!

[bamfahsoka]

Day 1: Wolfpack || Accidental Child Acquisition

Day 2: Padawan Photos || Plo & Crechelings

Day 3: Force shenanigans || Father's Day

Day 4: "Not to me" || Alternate Universe

Day 5: Chronic pain || Broken anti-tox mask

Day 6: Family || Compassion

Day 7: Free day

Thank you to @plokoonweek for hosting this event.

All Beta-read by @bogappreciation . Thank you so much.

Thank you @astralspeck for collaborating with me on day 1. Please go show them some love.

[bamfahsoka]

Awwwww❤️ 🐺 💜

Day 6: Family || Compassion

For @plokoonweek

Beta-read by @bogappreciation

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67527066/chapters/175283561

Plo feels in the force pain-tired-irritated, from one of his men. He decides to walk the ship. They just got everyone on board. There were many men in pain, but this was not coming from Medbay. He follows the pain to the source, which turns out to be Wolffe's room.

He gently knocks on the door, hoping to get an answer. As he waits the feeling of pain intensifies. "Go, away, Sinker. I told you, I'm fine,” he hears Wolffe growl. He enters his room. "Haa'chark, Sinker--" Wolffe stops mid sentence, and just looks at Plo for a moment.

Plo stays silent as Wolffe gathers his thoughts. "Buir, sorry. Sinker is not leaving me alone," Wolffe says tightly.

Plo looks at him intently. His son looks unwell. There are bags under his eyes, there is bloody gauze on the desk. Plo looks into his eyes. "Wolffe, my son. Why are you here and not in the medbay so Med can take a look at you himself?" he asks gently, coming to kneel next to him.

Wolffe looked up at him, eyes filled with pain. "Med was busy and I had work to do.” He gestures to the desk weakly. Plo pulls gauze from Wolffe's hand, gently holding it to the wound on his side. Wolffe groans as he puts pressure on the site. "I didn't want them to see me like this, so soon after...." He trails off as Plo puts his other hand on the side of his face.

They both know what he is talking about, it's the reason Plo is here now. "My son, we are a family. No one will think any less of you because you are injured," Plo says softly, as he moves the gauze to look at the wound. "We will always care and worry, for you and anyone else," he continues as he puts more pressure on the wound. Wolffe groans in response, trying to move away from Plo's hand.

Plo takes in the state Wolffe is in. He is pale, unable to keep his eyes open, so Plo makes the decision to call Med. "Med, I need you to report to Wolffe's quarters, with a medpac," Plo tells him.

"Yes, sir," Med replies. "Keep him awake if you can," he orders before disconnecting the line.

"Buir, please stay?" Wolffe asks quietly.

"Of course, my son," he tells him gently. "After, Med patches you up, I want you to go to the medbay."

Plo puts a finger over Wolffe's mouth, stopping him from arguing. "I can handle the work, Wolffe. Then I want you to stay in the barracks with Sinker, Boost, Comet and the other men," Plo gently tells him.

Wolffe nods just as the door opens to reveal Med and Sinker. They both rush to them, Med gently taking Plo's hand away to look, and Sinker on the other side holding Wolffe's face. "Oh, ori'vod. I should have grabbed Med sooner," Sinker says quietly.

Med stays quiet as he tends to Wolffe. When he is finished, he stands. "He needs the medbay sir, will he come willingly?" Med asks Plo, who nods, keeping an eye on Wolffe. "Alright, Sinker, help me, get him to the medbay," he tells the man. Then he turns to Wolffe, who looks like he is fading fast, telling him, "Wolffe, we got to move you."

Wolffe nods, letting them hoist him up, groaning loudly as they do. "I'm going to pass out now," he tells them before he goes lax in their hold.

Med shakes his head as he says, "I'm surprised he hasn't passed out sooner." Not saying anything more, just guiding them to the medbay.

-----

Hours later after Plo has finished the reports, he makes his way to the medbay. When he walks in he sees Wolffe awake and surrounded by the men. Plo gives them their privacy, walking over to Med.

Who looks up at him, smiles and says, "He'll be fine in a few days. I'll release him into Sinker's care in the morning."

Plo opens his mouth to reply, when he hears Sinker laugh, joined shortly by Boost, Comet and the others. He feels amusement from them and embarrassment tinged with pain from Wolffe. Then someone calls out, "General Buir, come join us." He spots the speaker as Comet.

Plo walks over and sits down in the chair offered to him. "See Wolffe, they don't care. We are a family,” he tells him gently.

Wolffe nods, adjusting himself within a vod hold. "Yes, buir," he says quietly.

[bamfahsoka]

Love it! You know that man despises the medbay haha

Day 7: Free day

For @plokoonweek

Beta-read by @bogappreciation

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67527066/chapters/175407496

Plo was walking to his office when he heard laughing from the Wolfpack's lounge area and wondered what was up. As he walks in he can see Wolffe on the sofa and Sinker, Boost, Comet and some of the other men there keeping him company. Plo can feel in the force, pain-tired-amusement from Wolffe.

"So, so... Fives told me... that he and Echo started another prank war... with the last battalion... they were with the... the 91st," Sinker says through laughter.

All the troopers in the room burst out laughing, including Wolffe and Plo. Plo gets surprise-amusement-happy in the force. "Buir, we were hoping you might stop by," Boost says brightly.

Plo walks over sitting next to Wolffe. "How are we boys?" he asks gently.

-------

They were all chatting for a few hours, when Wolffe fell asleep, his head falling on Plo's shoulder. "Sinker, call Med down to change his bacta patch," Plo quietly tells Sinker, knowing that Med has put Wolffe under his care.

"He gave me some stuff, so I don't have to, buir," Sinker tells him quietly as well while gently moving Wolffe.

When he finishes they all settle down to quietly enjoy each other's company.

[bamfahsoka]

Awwwwwwww ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Father's Day

Prompt: Day 3 Father's Day

Words: 1674

Rating: G

Warnings: None

This one is set in my Unexpected-verse and features Mira, Wolffe's daughter, who learns the important lesson that not all gifts need to be material.

The comm chimed just as Plo was finishing his afternoon tea. He answered without hesitation, recognizing the comm code.

Mira’s face blinked into view, her curls tousled and her brow furrowed in frustration. “Grandpa,” she said without preamble, “Father’s Day is this weekend and I still don’t know what to get him. I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

Plo folded his hands in front of him. “Ah. A very important mission, then.”

She huffed. “I asked him, and he said, ‘You don’t need to get me anything.’” She dropped her voice, mimicking her father’s accent with surprising accuracy.

Plo smiled behind his mask as she rolled her eyes so perfectly reminiscent of her father that it warmed his chest.

“And what do you think he meant by that?” Plo asked gently.

“I think…” Mira scrunched her nose, thinking hard. “I think he’s bad at gifts. Like, scared of them or something.”

Plo made a thoughtful sound. “That may not be entirely wrong.”

“I wanted to get him something good. Something he’d really like,” she continued, arms crossed now. “But he won’t tell me what he wants. And he never buys anything for himself. So how am I supposed to know?”

“Perhaps,” Plo said slowly, “you and I should discuss it in person.”

Mira stopped pacing. “Like… you’ll come get me?”

“If your mother approves,” Plo replied, “I shall place a call to her and pick you up after school tomorrow. We’ll take a walk. Perhaps near a few shops. And get some ice cream.”

Mira lit up. “With the candied berries?”

“If they have them.”

She leaned closer to the screen, grinning. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

#^#^#^#^##

The next afternoon, Plo met Mira outside the private academy she attended. She came bounding down the front steps, still in her school uniform, her bag slung over one shoulder and her hair only half-tamed. The moment she spotted him, her face lit up.

“You came!” she called, skipping the last step to land in front and hug him tightly.

“I said I would,” Plo replied, patting her head. “Did your lessons go well today?”

“They were fine,” Mira said, brushing the question off with a wave of her hand. “But I’ve been thinking about Dad’s gift all day. We have to figure it out.”

They set off together, Mira walking just slightly ahead, then circling back every so often to match Plo’s slower pace. The plaza they entered was wide and open, lined with fake plants in neat planters and a variety of shops.

“I thought maybe a mug,” Mira began. “Or a shirt. Something cool.”

Plo gave a thoughtful hum. “That is one possibility. Do you believe he needs a mug?”

Mira wrinkled her nose. “He already has like, a million mugs.”

“Mm,” Plo agreed, diplomatic as ever.

“I could get him something for his speeder,” she added after a moment. “But I don’t know what. He doesn’t really like… stuff.”

“No,” Plo agreed. “Your father does not seem to place much value on acquiring new possessions.”

Plo, ever subtly offered, “Sometimes, the most meaningful gifts are the ones made by hand.”

Mira wrinkled her nose again. “I guess. But I want it to be good.”

They walked a little further in silence before Mira brightened.

“He has this old jacket,” she said. “The one he wears on his speeder bike. It’s got a hole in the shoulder.” She reached up to show the spot. “Right here. So… maybe a new jacket?”

“Yes. I recall that jacket. It’s from Liri, I believe.”  Plo said.

Mira blinked up at him. “Mom bought it?”

“She did,” Plo confirmed. “It was one of the first civilian garments your father ever owned. I believe it holds some sentimental value.”

Mira went quiet, mulling that over. “So… he won’t get a new one because it reminds him of something?”

“Perhaps,” Plo said. “Or someone.”

Her brows pulled together. “Well… what if we fixed it?” she said suddenly. “Made it better. He won’t get rid of it, but we could fix the hole.”

Plo tilted his head, his tone warm with approval. “How do you propose we do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mira admitted. “Maybe one of those patch things. With a design. You can make those, right?”

“You can,” Plo said. “With patience and the proper tools.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Do you know how?”

Plo made a thoughtful hum. “Perhaps. With some guidance. And a snack or two… I believe we can figure it out together.”

Mira grinned. “Okay!”

#^#^#^#^#

The gardens at the Jedi Temple were calm and serene.  Birds chirped in the canopy, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees and flowers. On a bench under one of them, Mira sat cross-legged beside Plo, surrounded by a carefully arranged bundle of supplies, cloth, threads, needles, and a small sketchpad.

Her brow was furrowed as she focused, tongue caught between her teeth, trying to copy the lines of the Wolfpack symbol onto a square of fabric. Plo sat,  one hand steadying the sketchpad as she drew, the other occasionally pointing or nudging to guide her lines.

“Like this?” she asked, holding it up.

Plo tilted his head, studying it with care. “Very close,” he said. “The placement is just right. You captured the spirit of it.”

Mira beamed. Next came the needlework. Plo threaded the needle for her, then gently placed his hand over hers to show the motion.  She got the hang of it rather quickly and soon he was merely supervising.

“Yours is a steady hand,” he said.

“It’s not perfect,” she muttered.

“Perfect is not the point,” Plo pointed out. “It is made with care. That is what matters.”

Eventually, the patch began to take shape: the Wolfpack emblem in silvery thread, and just beside it, a smaller silhouette of a wolfcub.

Later, they walked through the plaza near the apartment, on the way to bring Mira home. At a small food stall, Plo ordered his usual shake, and Mira got her ice cream piled high with candied berries.

She took a huge bite. “This was a good idea,” she said, mouth full.

Plo looked down at her, the edge of pride settling warmly in his chest.

“I believe it was.”

#^#^#^#^#

The table was set with a variety of pastries and finger foods, some fruit.  A light lunch.  Liri set the last of the dishes on the table with a flourish.

“Are you sure you won’t eat?” she asked again.

Plo inclined his head, hands folded neatly in front of him. “Just tea, thank you. I was served a rather generous breakfast earlier, and I still have two more visits and a dinner to attend before the day ends.”

“Well,” Liri said, pouring the tea, amused, “We’re glad you made time for us.”

“Of course.”  Plo said warmly.

Across the table, Mira fidgeted in her seat. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her whole body buzzed with barely contained excitement. She kept casting glances toward Plo and her father, clearly waiting for the right moment.

Wolffe was finishing his caf, the cue she’d been waiting for, when she finally burst out with, “I have something for you!”

He blinked, caught surprised. “You do?”

“Uh huh. It’s Father’s Day,” she reminded him, matter-of-fact. She darted across the room and retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box from behind a cushion on the sofa. She placed it in front of him. “Open it.”

Wolffe glanced between her and Plo, with just a hint of suspicion.  Plo gave a faint, knowing nod and Wolffe pulled the twine and opened the box. Inside was the embroidered patch that Mira had worked so hard on. The stitching was beautiful, the lines a little uneven in places perhaps, but she had done a remarkable job.

Wolffe stared down at it, silent.

“It’s for your jacket,” Mira said, her voice quick. “The one with the hole. That’s your symbol. And the little one is…” She hesitated. “Me.”

He looked up slowly, and something in his expression cracked wide open. His mouth twitched toward a smile, but it was his eyes that gave him away. He cleared his throat, voice low and a little rough.

“We’ll sew it on later,” he said, brushing a thumb over the edge of the patch. “Right over the shoulder.”

Mira beamed.

Liri was already reaching for a napkin, watching them, blinking against the emotion.

It was rare to see Wolffe so moved, rarer still to see him allow it.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy,” Mira said softly.

Wolffe reached for her, pulling her into his arms. He pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her temple. “Thank you.”

“Grandpa helped,” Mira added. “He taught me how.”

Wolffe looked over at Plo and nodded once, his voice steady now. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Wolffe stood slowly from the table, taking a deep, almost shaky breath. The emotion lingered in his expression as he crossed the room and pulled a box from a drawer..

He returned to the table and set it in front of Plo.

“Happy Father’s Day,” he said.

Plo tilted his head in quiet curiosity, then opened the box.

Inside lay a custom-made bracer, similar to the ones he wore, but clearly newer in a dark, polished material. It had his usual markings, the Jedi Order emblem and the Wolfpack symbol, carefully etched and painted. The inner lining was clearly custom.

“It’s reinforced,” Wolffe explained quietly. “Adjustable straps for support. Heard your wrist was acting up again.”

Plo paused, claws tracing the curve of the bracer. “And who, may I ask, told you about my wrist?”

Wolffe’s eyes flicked toward Mira, amused, almost conspiratorial. “A little bird,” he said. “Or cub, rather.”

Mira grinned wide.  “You did say handmade things were better than buying them.”

“I did.”  Plo agreed, and this time it was he who was overwhelmed by emotion.  Plo looked between them, and then reached for both. One arm wrapped around Mira, the other around Wolffe, pulling them close.

[bamfahsoka]

Alright, well that's juat adorable 😍. Next question....WHO'S THE FATHER!? ADOPTED OR BIO?! So many questions!😭 🤣

Written for @plokoonweek - Day 2: Padawan Photos

What Makes Us Family

Rating: G

Characters: Plo Koon & Isla Tano (my OC)

Word Count: 772

Warnings: Overwhelming cuteness?

Read HERE on AO3!

—

Tag List: @snips2112 @aknightreaderr @ladylucksrogue @queen-of-mandalore @snarkyfina @cyarikacyare @solodoodless @detectivecrash

[bamfahsoka]

❤️ 💙 💜

💙🧡Fivesoka Friday💙🧡

Fic quote of the week.

“You devoted your whole life to helping others,” he continued. His voice filled with admiration as he recalled his earliest memories of her. “Since you were a child, you’ve been fighting this war and you still haven't given up. Every day you get up and decide to keep going. The thing I admire most about you… It’s not the Force or lightsabers – it’s your heart. The fact that after all you’ve been through, it’s still pure. War didn’t change you; didn’t break you.” He swallowed back tears, his voice shaking. “Please don’t let them break you now.”

~~~ from Get your act together by @imperfectedprose

Dividers by @ahsokathegray

Thank you to @snarkyfina for suggesting this quote!

If you would like to submit a Fivesoka fic quote to be posted in the future, feel free to send in an ask!

@aknightreaderr @snarkyfina

[bamfahsoka]

Awwwwwwww ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

For the date asks, can I ask about September 6?

Glad you’re sharing more of your writing with us! Looking forward to seeing more of your art too. 💙

Hi! Yes you may ask about September 6th!!

September’s theme was Song Fics, and the 6th was Something Just Like This (by The Chainsmokers)

This is a Rexsoka drabble (not one of my favs but I’m giving myself grace cause it’s older writing)

.

The atmosphere was heavy in the room, and the suffocating energy hit Ahsoka unexpectedly. The lights were off too, but she didn’t need that hint.

“Rex?” she asked, pressing forward through the darkness. “Is everything okay?”

Silence persisted and Ahsoka carefully made her way over to the bed.

“You are here right?” she half laughed reaching out in front of her.

She found his face and could feel him smile, but it lasted only a second.

“Yes, I’m here, love,” Rex sighed pulling her hands down to hold them.

Ahsoka sat down beside him, running her thumb across the backs of his hands. “What’s wrong? And don’t try to say nothing because I can feel the energy radiating off of you.”

“Sorry,” Rex muttered. “I just…” he half scoffed and dropped his head. “I…bad dreams…”

Ahsoka furrowed her brow and pulled her legs up onto the bed to face him. The position helped ease her nausea. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“The dream? I’d rather not.”

“Okay,” Ahsoka said slowly. “Should you?”

Rex took a deep breath. “I don’t think the dream requires discussion, honestly I don’t. But…”

LThe atmosphere quickly became very heavy again. The acidity of her bile burned her throat, but she pushed it down.

“What is it, cyare?” Ahsoka asked. She didn’t bother trying to calm her voice to hide the concern.

Rex kept his head down. “I’m…just feeling off…Insecure.”

Ahsoka frowned and moved behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. Tension was immediately released.

LAhsoka smiled gently. It was a start. “About what?” she asked.

“Us…” he said quietly. “Me…”

“Love,” Ahsoka sighed. “Why? What’s on your mind?”

“I just…I…” Rex gave a bitter laughed. “Suddenly felt very…unqualified. For…us…this…for you…”

Ahsoka sighed and as tempted as she was to look him in the eye, she continued the massage. The discomfort of having someone look you in the eye when you felt down was a feeling she was familiar with.

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said gently. “Do you know why?”

“I know it’s connected to the dreams,” Rex sighed. “The rest of it is just my own my mind.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t see you as unqualified. I never have.” Ahsoka could feel the confidence in her voice. She could only hope Rex did too. “You mean so much to me. I love you how you are.”

“But am I enough?” Rex lifted his head and looked it at the ceiling. Ahsoka heard the slight break in his voice and she desperately wanted to keep him from crying because of these doubts.

“More than enough some days,” Ahsoka said. “I promise. But, you don’t need to be anything great for me to love you. And, I’m not asking for that. I just want…you.

“I just want somebody who will listen to me when I need it, a crying shoulder when I’m down. Somebody to hold me at night, to kiss me and cuddle with.”

Ahsoka heard a scoff, but she continued on.

“I don’t need anything special. You are what’s special. What we have is special. Right now, I don’t want anything more. Your enhanced abilities were for war, not romance. But, I don’t need you to have enhanced romantic skills. What you have is enough for me. Do you want anything more?”

Rex shook his head. “Uh…no…not really…just…I don’t know.”

He reached up and grabbed her hands. With a deep breath, he turned around to face her.

“Thank you,” he whispered looking into her eyes. “Thank you…”

Ahsoka smiled. “You’re welcome. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rex smiled back. “And, I don’t want anything more. This…this is enough. I do just want this; this is good.”

Ahsoka leaned against him and relaxed in his embrace. “I’m glad.”

.

Hope you enjoyed and thank you again for the ask!! 🧡💙

Also thank you! Excited to be sharing more writing and glad you excited to see more art!!��

If you want to make a request read here and send it in!!

[bamfahsoka]

Holy shit, I love it!!!! ❤️

The Best Laid Plans..

Liri and Wolffe have a plan for what the future holds, but when Liri gets some news while Wolffe is still on rotation, she needs to figure out a way to tell him. With Father's Day just around the corner, she has a plan...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66700795

@tealmist55

[bamfahsoka]

Awwwwwww❤️ 💙 💜

Day 1: Plo Koon Week

Prompts: Accidental Child Aquisition and Wolfpack

Words: 2024

Rating: G

@plokoonweek

Thank you so much for organizing this!

“General?”

Plo looked up from his reports as a trooper stepped into the command tent.

“There’s… an issue, sir.”

Plo rose smoothly, setting the datapad aside. “Lead the way, Dust.”

They made their way across the camp toward the supply area. Inside, seated up on a crate surrounded by discarded ration wrappers, was a small male Togruta child. He couldn’t have been more than three or so, dirty but otherwise unharmed, his bright eyes locked onto Plo the moment he entered.

Plo crouched slowly, head tilting. “Kotoya, little one. You are far from home.”

The child blinked up at him, cautious but curious.

Plo reached out with the Force. The child was like a flickering candle, small, but strong with potential.

“I will not harm you.” He soothed.

The boy tilted his head, then hopped down from the crate, stepping closer.

“Do you have a name?”

“Kurai,” he squeaked, and then he was suddenly all in, flinging his arms around Plo and burrowing into his robes like he’d known him forever.

Plo gathered him gently, standing. “How long has he been here?”

Dust rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure, sir. Comet ran inventory earlier and didn’t mention anything. No more than an hour or two, probably.”

Plo nodded, glancing down at the child. Judging by the growth of his montrals, he was definitely still a toddler. His skin was a soft bluish grey with violet eyes that glowed in the low light. He looked nothing like Ahsoka, yet for a heartbeat, Plo was transported, remembering another small, fearless child he’d once carried much the same way.

“Shall we return to my office, then?”

Kurai nodded enthusiastically.

Plo walked back across the camp. When he reentered the command tent, Commander Wolffe stood near the desk, helmet under one arm, datapad in hand. He snapped to attention at once.

“General. The perimeter is secure, all patrols accounted for and—” He broke off mid-sentence, eyes zeroing in on the small Togruta tucked into Plo’s side.

“What is that?”

“Not what, Wolffe. Who.” Plo adjusted the child slightly. “This is Kurai. Say hello to Wolffe, Kurai.”

The boy gave a small wave.

Wolffe blinked. “Sir, that is a tubie.”

“He is a child, Commander.”

“Yes, sir, but… why is he here? Is he from the village?”

“That is a likely assumption.”

Wolffe muttered something under his breath and ran a hand down his face. “Sir, I don’t have to tell you how skeptical that colony’s been. If they find out we have one of their children—”

“I will go personally in the morning and return him,” Plo assured him.

Wolffe frowned. “Wouldn’t tonight be safer?”

Plo shook his head. “You said the perimeter was secure. We both know what hunts in the jungle between here and the village. I would prefer not to entertain the risk.”

Wolffe tilted his head back and sighed. “Very well, sir.”

Just then, Plo’s comm chirped.

“I have a Council check-in. It should not take long.” He looked down at the boy. “Would you like to stay with Wolffe for a little while, Kurai?”

The child eyed Wolffe carefully… then nodded.

“Sir,” Wolffe said tightly, “I am not qualified for this.”

“I disagree,” Plo replied, trying to reign in his amusement. He could feel Wolffe’s nerves fraying, anxiety rising.

“You can take him to the mess and get him something to eat. I shall not be long.”

With that, he set Kurai on his feet and gave a wave as he stepped out.

Wolffe stared down at the child.

“Well… guess it’s you and me now. Can you talk?”

Kurai nodded.

“You hungry?”

Another nod.

Wolffe exhaled. “Can you walk?”

Kurai gave a very deliberate shake of his head.

Wolffe narrowed his eyes. “Right.” He could already tell he was being duped, but it was hard to be annoyed when the kid looked up at him with such wide, hopeful eyes.

He crouched down. “You get one free ride, kid.”

Kurai giggled and climbed up onto Wolffe’s shoulders like he’d done it a hundred times before, light and nimble, gripping the armor with tiny hands.

Wolffe rose, already shaking his head. “You better be worth the trouble.”

#^##^#

Plo’s Council meeting had run longer than expected. The sky had already darkened further by the time he stepped out of the command tent and went looking for Kurai.

He found him in the makeshift recreation room, though room was generous. A large field tent had been set up with crates and repurposed benches, a table in one corner, and a few scattered datapads and card decks. What caught Plo’s attention wasn’t the setting, but the gathering within.

Most of Wolffe’s entire squad was present, huddled in a loose circle around the small Togruta. Kurai sat proudly in the center, like he was holding court. He was happily gnawing on a snack bar and pointing at a piece of paper while Tracer and Boost cheered him on.

A stack of bright, clumsy drawings lay scattered across one of the crates. Someone, Comet, no doubt, had provided a stash of colored pens and paper. Sinker had carved the Wolfpack sigil into a piece of plastoid from a repair kit, threading it through a bit of twine to make a necklace. It now hung around Kurai’s neck.

The boy was radiant. His presence in the Force, bright and flickering with curious energy, had settled into something steady and content. He was still too young to understand what it meant to be Force-sensitive, to know he was projecting, but he had certainly responded to warmth, protection, and belonging, and tonight, he had all three.

Wolffe sat to one side, arms crossed as he watched over everyone.

Plo stepped closer.  Kurai noticed him immediately and waved, sending half his drawing supplies tumbling. 

“I see you’ve kept him quite entertained,” Plo said gently.

Wolffe gave a tired huff. “We tried to keep him out of trouble. He’s got a taste for snacks and sabacc cards.”  He added wryly, pointing out a deck with some distinctive teeth marks.

“I do not doubt it,” Plo smiled behind his mask.

“Look!” Kurai chirped, scrambling up and holding his drawing in one hand and the plastoid pendant in the other. 

“I see,” Plo said warmly, crouching beside him. “You have been quite busy.”

“He’s an artist,” Comet said proudly.

“He called Boost stinky, sir,” Tracer chimed in. “I find that kind of honesty refreshing.”  Sinker started laughing, Boost was less than amused and lunged at Tracer.

Kurai beamed, even as Wolffe had to pull Tracer and Boost apart, scolding them.

“I had intended to settle him for the night,” Plo began.

Wolffe shook. “With respect, sir… you’ll get no sleep with him climbing on everything in your quarters, and you won’t be able to use your settings.”

“He’s a bit of a  menace,” Tracer agreed fondly.

“Just a little one,” Comet agreed with a smile.

“We can keep him here tonight,” Wolffe suggested. “He’s made himself at home. We’ll rotate watch, set him up on the couch.”

Plo looked around the room, seeing nods and smiles all around. The boy’s presence had grounded them. Calmed them.

Plo nodded. “Very well.” He let his hand rest lightly on the top of Kurai’s head. “Sleep well, little one.”

“I will!” Kurai promised, throwing his arms around Plo’s legs in a spontaneous hug before darting back to his cushion.

Plo took one last look before departing, his commander watching the child with something oddly soft in his gaze, the rest of the squad quietly bickering over who got first shift.

Yes, he would sleep soundly tonight.

#^#^#^#^#

Plo left for the village at first light, taking Dust and a newer trooper named Flip with him, at the firm insistence of his commander.

Wolffe had insisted on proper protocol and precaution. Plo hadn’t argued. Truthfully, he shared the concern.

Kurai had slept soundly. At breakfast, he’d devoured a full ration tray. Then he’d run between the ranks during morning exercise drills, giggling as the men attempted push-ups and drills around him. It was a sight to see.

Wolffe’s worry had been warranted. The village elders had been far from pleased to learn one of their own children had wandered into Republic territory. Tensions flared. Plo had to rely heavily on his years of experience to defuse the situation.

Eventually, Kurai’s father arrived.

The man was older, rough around the edges, and clearly tired. He had several children as it turned out, and his wife had passed the year prior. Kurai was the youngest, restless and impulsive, always sneaking away.

There was no embrace or real reunion. No tears. Only weary resignation.

Plo made the offer, an invitation to bring Kurai to the Temple, where his Force sensitivity could be nurtured, where he would be given purpose and care.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, the father agreed. There was no protest, only relief.

Most separations bore some pain. This one was quiet. The Force hummed with the rightness of the path ahead, Plo was certain of that. Kurai’s future lay not in that village, but with the Order.

The boy was far too young to grasp the weight of the moment. When Plo told him they were returning to camp, to the men, his whole face lit up.

He clung to Plo’s robes as they made their way back, chatting about breakfast and the drawings he wanted to finish and whether Sinker would let him try on his helmet.

Plo’s heart ached again.  The attention and affection Kurai had received from soldiers, clones, bred for war, had likely been the most warmth the child had known in months.

As they approached the perimeter, Plo spotted Wolffe walking toward them, helmet under one arm, expression already shifting into puzzled wariness.

“Not the right villagers, sir?” he asked.

Plo adjusted his hold on Kurai, who had promptly tucked his face into Plo’s shoulder.

“No,” Plo said. “The decision was made that Kurai will be trained at the Temple.”

Wolffe’s brow rose. “He’s coming back with us, then?”

“Indeed.”

There was a beat, just long enough for Plo to feel the wave of something warm ripple through his commander’s mind. Then Wolffe turned on his heel and activated his comm.

“Comet, get a spare bunk prepped. Sinker, update the exfil manifest one extra passenger.”

Plo couldn’t help the smile that tugged beneath his mask.

Yes. Kurai would be just fine.

#^#^#^#^#^#^#

A few days later, aboard the Hand of Justice, they were deep in hyperspace, en route to Coruscant.

Plo moved through the corridors, his final walkthrough before rest. Tomorrow would bring their arrival, and with it, a new initiate at the Temple. It would be a busy day.

As he passed one of the recreation rooms, he caught the low flicker of light and the soft hum of a holo still playing. Curious, Plo stepped into the room.

Blankets and pillows were piled on the floor.

Sinker was snoring lightly, head tipped onto Boost’s shoulder. Comet was slumped on Wolffe’s one side, fast asleep, mouth slightly open.

And there, tucked under Wolffe’s other arm was Kurai.

Plo stepped into the room, careful not to wake anyone. The Force was warm and steady.

He moved to adjust the blankets around each of them.

Wolffe stirred, his eyes opened, slow and groggy but alert. Then, recognizing the silhouette, he calmed.

“Did you need something, sir?” he asked.

Plo reached out, brushing a hand over Wolffe’s head, ruffling his curls.

“No,” he said simply. “Sleep well.”

Wolffe gave a small nod, eyes already closing again.

Plo lingered a moment longer. He pulled the blanket more snugly around Kurai’s small form.

He thought of other children he had brought to the Temple. Of Ahsoka, so small when they first met, and how she had flourished.  He could only hope Kurai would thrive just the same.

Tomorrow would be a new beginning.

And he could only hope, however young he was now, that some part of him would remember this moment.

With one last look, Plo stepped away into the corridor, letting the door seal quietly behind him.

taglist:

@tealmist55

[bamfahsoka]

❤️

Didn't Have Time

Summary: Once upon a time, you and Wolffe were in a relationship. It was perfect, or so you thought. But then the Jedi Purge happened and Wolffe ghosted you. And all of your dreams of a wedding and a family go up in smoke. Five years later, you live on Naboo with the last gift Wolffe ever gave you, a daughter you named Luna.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: Actually pretty angsty in some places, actually

A/N: So you remember that angsty idea I had the other day about Wolffe? I decided to turn it into a real story! Yay me! Anyway, I hope you all like it even though it's kind of sad in places.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stare, blankly, down at the message you received earlier today. You’ve written, deleted, and rewritten your response so many times, that you can recite it. But you still haven’t sent it.

You should send it.

He has no right to come back into your life like this.

Not when he left without so much as a goodbye.

Not when he took all of your dreams and shattered them without so much as a glance back.

You didn’t even have the chance to mourn what could have been, because then you were pregnant and you just didn’t have time for mourning. You had doctors appointments you needed to keep, and a nursery to set up, and a new job you needed to prepare for.

You glance back down at the message on your comm, and you want to scream or cry or something other than feeling like the young woman you used to be all those years ago.

It’s Wolffe. Rex gave me your comm code. He says you live on Naboo now. Can we talk?

Damn Wolffe. And damn Rex for giving him your comm code.

You slump on your desk and bury your hands in your hair. You wish that you had someone you could lean on for help. But you really and truly don’t have anyone.

It’s just you and Luna.

After all, all of Luna’s uncles will support meeting up with Wolffe again. Why wouldn’t they? He’s their brother.

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat and blink back the tears welling in your eyes. It’s not fair. How can he just come back like this? Like nothing changed?

And how can Rex expect you to be okay with it?

Why won’t anyone support you?

“Mummy?” You jump at the little voice from the door to your office, and you sit up to glance at your little girl. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay, Lulu?”

Luna frowns, her dark eyes scrunching up worriedly, “You’ve been acting weird since you got that text.”

“Have I?” You stand and walk over to her lightly trailing your hand over her hair, “Did I worry you?”

Luna nods and wraps her arms around your waist, “Yeah. And just now you looked sad.”

“I am a little sad, but I’ll be okay.” You pick her up and bump your nose against hers, “Promise.”

Luna giggles, “Will you read me another story?”

“Another one? Goodness, you’re a little bookworm aren’t you?” She giggles even more and nods eagerly, “Well, I suppose one more story won’t hurt.”

One story later, and once you’ve made sure that Luna is tucked in properly and actually asleep, you head back to your office and pick up your comm.

You stare at the message, and then glance over your shoulder at the pale yellow door that belongs to Luna, and you release a sigh.

There’s a cafe near the spaceport, it’s called the Sleeping Nettle. We can meet up for lunch. You send the message before you can think twice, and you’re about to set the comm down to wind down for the night yourself, when it chimes.

I’ll be there. You still prefer 11:30 lunches?

You stare at his message. Why does he still know that?

...yeah. 11:30 is fine.

I’ll see you then.

Your comm goes dark and you slowly set the device on the charger. In spite of what you told Luna, you’re not okay. Once again, you’re going to cry yourself to sleep.

How easily Wolffe hurts you.

It’s just not fair.

Wolffe shifts uncomfortably in the chair as he waits for her to show up. He feels naked and exposed without his armor, but Rex forbade him from showing up in armor.

And, seeing as his younger brother is the only reason he gets to actually see and talk to her again, he decided that listening would be better.

Besides, his cyar’ika always said that he looked amazing in casual clothes.

Wolffe doesn’t know much about what his cyare has been up to these last five years. Oh, sure. He knows that Rex helped her move from Coruscant to Naboo. And he knows that she finished her Psychology doctorate and opened a practice here on Naboo.

Rex had been very free with the information he had about her. Though he’s also been very tight-lipped about some information.

Wolffe knows she’s still single and that she hasn’t dated after him. And Rex had implied that she had a good reason for not looking for another partner, but when Wolffe pressed him, he wouldn’t give any more details.

Still, the fact that she’s single means he has a chance, right?

The door to the cafe opens, and he glances up. And his breath catches in his throat.

His cyare hasn’t changed much in five years.

Oh, sure. She’s not exactly the same. Gone are the short and tight dresses, replaced with a casual sundress that flows around her knees. The high stilettos she used to wear have been replaced with flat sandals. And the loud make-up she liked to wear has been replaced with a more muted color pallet. And she’s wearing glasses.

He remembers a time when she would refuse to wear them even though it hurt her eyes.

She’s not a party girl anymore.

She’s a professional woman. And Wolffe hates himself for not being there to watch her bloom.

He stands as she approaches him, and as she gets closer he sees the worry around her eyes. And he hates himself even more for putting it there.

“Wolffe,” She offers him a polite smile, “It’s...nice to see you.”

It’s a polite lie, Wolffe can tell immediately that she’s not happy to see him.

“Thank you for coming. I—I’m sure you have questions.” He pulls out the chair for her on instinct, and she hesitates before sinking into it.

“You could say that.”

“I ordered you a drink. Caf with cinnamon, right?”

She sighs softly, “Yeah. That’s still my preferred drink.” Her pretty eyes focus on his face, “Why do you still remember that?”

“I remember everything about you.” It’s a simple statement. An honest one. And he can’t help but wonder what she thought of him when she looks surprised at his answer, “Did you think I would just forget about you?”

“You left. You left and you never came back. What am I supposed to think?”

“That’s not fair. I know Rex told you about that chips.”

“You didn’t even call, Wolffe. I thought you were dead.”

He winces, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t even have an explanation. Other than I thought it was safer if I stayed away.”

“Right,” Her voice is soft and she isn’t looking at him anymore, “Safer. Sure.”

“How—How have you been? Really?” Wolffe asks as the two cafs he ordered earlier get delivered to the table.

She glances at him as she wraps her hands around the mug in front of her, “I finished my doctorate and opened my own practice.”

“Rex said something about that,” Wolffe replies with a small smile, “You worked so hard at both of those.”

“I did. It was hard. Harder, I think. But Rex was a big help.” There’s something bitter in her voice, and Wolffe grimaces.

“Don’t be mad at him for giving me your comm code.”

“I’m not.” Her smile is even more bitter, “He’s your brother.”

There’s silence for a moment, “You, ah, you said harder. Why was it harder? Did the curriculum change after the Empire came into power, or…?”

She hesitates for a moment, and then she releases her mug and reaches into her purse. She pulls out her comm and messes with it for a moment, before she lies it on the table between him, with a picture pulled up on the screen.

“Well, it’s hard to take exams and study when you’re pregnant.”

Wolffe’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he takes her comm and stares at the little girl on the screen. She looks like her mother, but with his hair and eyes. She’s perfect. “What’s her name?”

“Luna.” She twists her mug in front of her, “She’s five. And she loves princesses and race-cars. And princess stories about race cars.”

“Makes sense to me.”

She laughs softly, “Yeah. She does martial arts and ballet and speaks Mando’a just as fluently as she speaks Basic—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You just said you stayed away to keep me safe. Knowing that you had a daughter wouldn’t have changed much.”

She’s right, of course. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling like a monster.

“Can I meet her?”

“...she’s at school.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She glances at him, and then looks away. “You have every right to get to know your daughter, but—”

“But?”

“I’m not going to let you break her heart, Wolffe. You don’t get to come into her life now, and the fuck off to god knows where for 5 years. She doesn’t deserve that.” She straightens in her seat, “You have to prove to me that you really want this.”

“Deal.”

“Wolffe, I haven’t even given you the terms yet—”

“I don’t care. I love you, I never stopped loving you. And I lost five years with you. I missed the first five years of our daughters life. I can’t make up for that, but I can prove myself to you.”

She stares at him for a long moment, and then she sighs and looks away. There are tears in her eyes, and Wolffe feels like a monster. “I want to hate you.” She finally says, and Wolffe winces, “But, apparently I’m stupid because I never stopped loving you.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Wolffe breathes out without meaning to.

She scowls at him, “That doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know.” He reaches across the table and takes her hand in both of his, “But it means you’re going to give me the chance. And, to be completely honest, I expected you to block my number.” Her hands are still just as soft as he remembers, “Why didn’t you?”

She looks at his hands, “I already don’t have much of a support system. I can’t afford to destroy what little I do have.”

“Cyare, they wouldn’t have shunned you for refusing to speak with me…”

“Luna adores her uncles, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take that chance.”

Wolffe slowly presses his forehead against her knuckles. She’s given up so much for their child, he’ll never be able to apologize enough. “Thank you.” His gaze locks with hers, “For giving me a chance.”

“She’s your daughter. You have a right to meet her.”

“Not just for that. For giving me another chance with you.”

“Yeah, well...that’s not a sure thing yet.”

“I won you over before. I can do it again.”

She sighs softly, “I’m giving you a chance, Wolffe. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“A chance is all I need. I won you over before, didn’t I?”

He watches her lips twitch up into a tiny smile, “Let’s just eat lunch.” She says instead of an answer.

Wolffe finally releases her hand and leans back in his seat. He won her over before, he’ll do it again. And this time, he’s not going to let anyone or anything stop him from making sure they both have a happy ending.

And, next time she gets pregnant, he’s going to be there the whole time.

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Plo Koon Week - final prompt list

People of Tumblr have decided! This is the list of the prompts that received the most votes:

Day 1: Wolfpack || Accidental Child Acquisition

Day 2: Padawan Photos || Plo & Crechelings

Day 3: Force shenanigans || Father's Day

Day 4: "Not to me" || Alternate Universe

Day 5: Chronic pain || Broken anti-tox mask

Day 6: Family || Compassion

Day 7: Free day

Date: 14th - 20th July (nobody protested, so this is when the event will take place)

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @dukeoftheblackstar @tealmist55 @whyamismall @ezekiel13 @star-wars-lycanwing-bat @aknightreaderr @lonewolflupe @dizzy-9906 @cursivequestion @archivewriter1ont @faerieinthehumanworld @gingerhopper

08.07.2025: updated taglist, sorry if you got mentioned again

Below the cut is the reminder of the rules

Every content must be related to Plo Koon. Art, fanfiction, moodboards, video edits, e.t.c are allowed. The more Plo content, the better!

Plo Koon should be the main character in your work or have an important role. He shouldn't be reduced to only mentions nor background character, give him a major role in your work.

Every ship is allowed, including Plo Koon x OC, x reader. We are not going to judge anyone and we want this event to be a safe place. Hate towards participants and bashing of any kind (ship-bashing, Jedi-bashing, e.t.c) is not allowed. Please tag your works properly, so everyone will be able to find something they like!

Both NSFW and SFW is allowed. However you have to tag your NSFW works

Again, tags, tags, tags! They're your friends! Use them, tag stuff that other people may not be interested in or feel uncomfortable (like gore, torture, kinks, x reader, first POV, vomit, e.t.c)

There is no minimum word count, so even drabbles are okay to post!

No AI content. Every work has to be made by human, not machine.

Mention the event blog, so your work will be able to be reblogged! You can as well use the tag #Plo Koon week, #Plo Koon week 2025 before posting.

Reposting older works is allowed. Do you have a favorite fanfic or fanart? Tag the event blog, so we will be able to reblog it!

Be kind! The purpose of this event is to appreciate Plo Koon, not start ship wars or hate each other.

You can complete only one, or both prompts for each day! Day 7 doesn't have a prompt, so you can create and share whatever you want, if you didn't like the prompts, or just want to do something more!