fluffy blurbs about someone in a species without hair playing with someone's hair also I absolutely adore your blog you are gorgeous
you see i was gonna lean towards maul for this one but i think i wanna write about plo because i’m sad and usually soft fics with him help. so, i hope you enjoy <33
“i’m utterly exhausted,” a yawn takes ahold as you settle into the seat, grumbling to yourself as the cool surface digs in, nearly piercing your spine, “i don’t recall these being so uncomfortable on the way there.”
“perhaps you were a bit more spry and energized,” although his voice was through a modulator, you could pick out the notes of exhaustion, how there was a bit more breath than usual, a bit of haziness lingering in the words.
“you sound just as tired,” you mumble, “how are the boys going to sleep?”
the kel dor raises his head, glancing over in the direction of a huddle of clones, their armor half-on, half scattered around the floor, or shoved above in compartments. he exhales, allowing his head to connect with the wall of the ship.
“they find a way. you would be surprised at how quickly they doze off. here, rest your head on my lap. it might be a little more welcoming.”
“welcoming to what, exactly?” you snort, yet your eyelids flutter, promising of sleep within the next few minutes.
you were going to collapse soon, whether you liked it or not.
a massive hand wraps around the back of your skull, bringing your head to face his.
there’s a softness to his gaze as he looks at you, tender, even. although the action surprised you, earning a little jolt, his grip was not harsh or demanding. it was more careful, almost as if he was ensuring he didn’t bring you any harm.
“rest your head on my lap, little dove. you need the sleep. i am not in the mood to argue, either.”
swallowing thickly, you nod slightly, drawing your knees to your chest. carefully, you shift your weight so you’re in a fetal position, stretching out your legs along the free space of the seating.
it wasn’t much more relaxing than sitting upwards, but the moment his hands found your hair, you were done for.
fingers massage your scalp, sending a warmth blossoming in your chest. as your eyelids droop, you feel fingers dip below your locks, toying with sections and strands.
it’s gentle, brimmed with an emotion you couldn’t quite place your finger on.
“sleep, little dove. you won’t if that beautiful mind of yours is still loaded with inquiries. i’ll answer them in the morning, as i know what you wish to ask me.”
and with that, you found yourself drifting away, the kel dor’s chest warm, filled with bliss.
