#And of course the lightsaber battles

[izzystizzys]

As High Marshall Commander, a title foisted on him by the Galaxy’s fakest bitch aka Chancellor Palpatine, Fox theoretically has privileges and authorities like no other clone. In practice, he has a headache and gets ignored more obviously than before.

What he also has is a fancy new function on his personal comm unit modified to broadcast GAR-wide to all commanding officers, up to and including Jedi. It gathers dust next to his own modified button that sees much better use - a private channel to Stone, the only vod that will let Fox bitch at him to his heart’s content without hanging up (Thire) or bitching right back (Thorn).

It’s been a long shift of 72 hours, the maximum Stabby allows him to do without a well-placed hypo to the neck, when Fox finally collapses on his rickety cot in the Command quarters and hits the private comm connection to Stone without looking. He’s already rolling his eyes so hard it tweaks at the migraine that’s been building since hour 18 and heaving a put-upon sigh.

“Everyone is stupid, Stone, and asking to be thrown face-first from the Dome balustrades”, he begins, settling into a low, dead tone of voice to warm to the building monologue. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. “I swear to haran I’m going to wring Amedda’s stringy neck one of these days. I don’t know what magical Force gods his mother pissed off, but they made sure to punish her and the Galaxy at large a hundred times over. He sucks the joy and competence out of every room like a black hole of stupid. I’d call him a has-been, but I trust in the power of nepotism and also just don’t believe he ever was. I swear he’s doing it on purpose and - oh, kriffing Sith-damned hells, you know who’s definitely doing it on purpose?! The kriffing Chancellor, that wrinkly ass-faced ballsack!”

Taking a deep breath, Fox lets that sit in his chest for a moment, indulging in the feeling of bright weightlessness. “I swear he’s trying to keep the war going - no one man can be that incompetent and still draw breath, not even Amedda or Taa. Goddamn Taa - but anyways, kriffing hell, Stone, either the senility isn’t an act or he’s a bad cartoon villain from Dooby Scoo. Yes Sir, sending Senator Amidala to a Seppie-infested planet for negotiations is a great idea after her fourth bomb threat of the week. No Sir, I can’t hear you cackling evilly with Count Dooku under your lame two-credit robe as you’re definitely not colluding with the Republic’s enemies. What, you have a red lightsaber?! Oh, of course I don’t know what that means, I was dropped on the head as a tubie!”

Barely pulling in a harsh breath, Fox continues, palms pressing into his eyeballs hard enough to cause sparks. “And speaking of lightsabers and senile fucks, haran smite my ass off but who the kriff thought it’d be a good idea to give absolute tactical and military authority to the kriffing eldritch space monks! The Force didn’t bless them with the collective good sense it gave to a kriffing rock, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise! Has anyone kriffing read the Theed Convention of Sentient Rights in Wartimes?! NO?!! Well, color me UNSURPRISED, because war crimes ARE NOT! GOOD! BATTLE! TACTICS!!”

“They run around in crop tops, Stone, in crop tops! Oh, the Force provides - WELL I’M GOING TO PROVIDE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT WEARING KRIFFING ARMOUR!”

“Sure, let’s send the preteens into active warzones under heavy artillery in kriffing party wear! Surely nothing will ever go wrong! And give them commanding positions equivalent to CC-clones, WHO WERE LITERALLY GENETICALLY CREATED FOR IT! WITH A DECADE OF INTENSE TRAINING! LET’S DO THAT, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL KRIFFING STUPID!”

He’s gesturing wildly at the ceiling now, face heating up as his blood boils beneath the surface. “And you know what really gets my lowers in a twist, apart from the preteen commanding officers and blatant kriffing high treason and war profiteering?! Is it the complete lack of recognition? Gratitude? Basic sentient rights?! No, Stone, no, I would take all that in stride if it meant I never had to see Skywalker and Amidala kriffing canoodle right in front of me again, and pretend like it isn’t the galaxy’s worst conflict of interest case in the making!”

“By all levels of Sith-hell, what the kriff is wrong with that woman? You have it all, you could have anyone, and you choose that twatwaffle?! And then they have the gall to lock themselves in a broom closet for twenty minutes straight and have me guard it! ‘Oh yes, Senator, naturally we all go rattling brooms with our good friends! Nothing dodgy happening at all! I definitely believe you were looking for detergent and have used a washing machine before!’ The absolute nerve on those two! And then last week - you’ll never believe this - High General Windu passed by, and I swear he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the roof! I’ve never been less impressed by anyone in my life, and I’m batch-mates with Bly!”

“Speaking of Bly, that little bitchtit - if I have to edit one more, one more kriffing propaganda piece of him staring at General Secura’s bits, I’m going to stab my eye out! And if I have to edit one more of Secura staring at his bits, I’m going to stab the other one out! The only good thing I have to say about them is they’re more subtle than Skywalker and Amidala, which means nothing really. I will never understand that woman - but then she’s worked with Jar Jar Binks for a decade and not had a nervous breakdown, so she either has nerves of steel or is on some good-ass drugs.”

“Girl, your choices. And you know what else is a choice? Kote kriffing roundhouse-kicking heads off droids when he has a perfectly good blaster right there! I don’t know what the Longnecks put in his tube, but I hope to kriff it’s not contagious. I’d say I’m glad he has Kenobi to keep him in check, but that man wouldn’t know common sense if it punched his nose clean off his face. Flirting with General Grievous, ugh. I’d say he can do better, but honestly, they deserve each other.”

“And Wolffe - “, panting, Fox pauses, considering. “Well, Wolffe is an asshole and stupid, and I hate him because he’s stupid and has a stupid face. Also he keeps drunkenly submitting adoption paperwork on General Koon’s behalf - I wish I could say something mean about that, but honestly, his existence is roast enough. Anyways, bitches are trying me today, and by bitches I mean everyone. Commander Fox signing off to go not commit treason, unfortunately.”

Thoroughly powered out, Fox sinks into his hard mattress with a deep sigh. Several seconds of silence reign, and then his comm unit starts blaring in alarm.

Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu is knocked flat on his ass by a gargantuan shatterpoint exploding.

[im-poe-dameron]

THE HEART OF A SHIP

a/n: this fic is a result of wine and rewatching the force awakens. honestly my brain always short circuits whenever oscar isaac comes on screen. so i had to do something. it was meant to be small, but i literally couldn't stop writing so it became this. it's an idea that has been lingering in my head for awhile, i just had to let it simmer for a bit. and now it's fully cooked.

summary: you and poe were inevitable. two asteroids set on a course to crash into one another. a celestial event that would happen whether you wanted it or not. you just never expected it to happen so soon.

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption, love confessions sort of??, poe being romantic as fuck, p in v sex, guided masturbation, biting, sex in an x-wing, sex in a public place, unedited but we live and die by the fucking pen.

Intoxicating.

That was the only way you’d describe him. The only word that ever did him justice. He was the human embodiment of an Antakarian Fire Dancer. You got hammered on it one year after two glasses of the amber liquid, proceeding to forget half the night yet eager for more. Nothing could describe the man before you better. It simply wouldn’t do him justice. He was the itch beneath your skin that you could never satisfy, the reason you stood there now.

A glass of that amber liquid in both hands.

He’d disappeared from the celebration. An hour in from congratulations and happy faces, you watched him leave when no one was looking. And you did nothing to stop it. You knew he wasn’t one to relish in the joys of battle well done. Always intent on focusing towards the next thing—the next fight. It’s how you knew Leia would make him General, why he was so good at leading, at keeping the people he loved safe.

“Leaving without saying goodbye is rude, you know.”

He jumped slightly where he stood, his back to you, a holopad in one hand and a tool in the other. Of course he’d be here, fixing his X-Wing in silence. His own little ritual. You couldn’t count how many times you found him here after a fight, finalizing the last few checks before he caught some sleep. If he slept at all. Poe always seemed to be on the move no matter the time of day—a constant in the Resistance even when everyone else seemed to have lost faith.

“I said goodbye,” he joked, head turning slightly to see you come around, the holopad getting traded for a glass. “Just couldn’t see you in the crowd.”

You smiled. “You’re a shit liar Dameron.”

“I know.” He took a sip, winced, and laughed—the sound practically lighting you up inside. Igniting you like a fucking lightsaber.

“What’s the damage report?” 

“Nothing I can’t fix.” He glanced back at the scraped up hunk of metal he loved more than anything. The amount of care he put into keeping her going was admirable—if a little insane at times.

But he was right. The damage was nothing he couldn’t fix.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smile still played on your lips, eyes alight and aiming to start something you wanted him to finish.

Poe caught onto it quicker than you expected. He could see it before you followed him out of the celebration. A promise that lingered in the air from months of longing looks and timid words. Something inevitable and real. So much so that you were willing to bet everything that he felt exactly the same way you did.

You wanted each other. That was clear from day one. But doing something about it became difficult when war was a constant and lives were put in peril on the daily. Poe didn’t want to leave you broken beyond repair if he never made it back. Just as you didn’t want to do the same to him.

The fucked up thing about it though was Poe would mourn you either way. He’d live his life half a man if you never graced him with your presence again. If you weren’t around to smile at him from across rooms and laugh at his shitty jokes. He was pretty sure he’d already started. Being away from you was like a poison he constantly had to take, a pain he didn’t want to endure. And if it were up to him…he’d choose you every time.

No matter the consequences.

“You ever been in an X-Wing before?” he asked, trying to see past the bits and pieces of the ache that hurt you both.

You rolled your eyes and Poe felt his chest tighten. “You know I haven’t. I’m not pilot material.”

“Sounds like bantha shit to me starlight.”

The name you’d heard so many times before echoed differently to you now. You wanted to break through its meaning and find the promise within. The antidote to this fucking ache that stuck to your chest. You wanted to rip it out and grind it up. You wanted to finally take what you desired, relish in the feel of calling him yours without the pain of knowing what came next. The both of you were trying to save your emotions—protect yourselves—but there was no use.

Poe had found a home in your heart and he was there to stay.

“Come with me.”

When it came to him you had no choice but to listen, following dutifully behind in a haze of want. He climbed up the ladder on the side of his ship, plopping down into the seat with the grace of a pilot who’d done it a million times before. The movement now muscle memory at this point. Whereas you clambered up—buzzed on one drink—nearly falling into the cockpit. He grabbed your arm at the last minute, helping you slowly maneuver your way in, until you were perched on this lap.

The seat was barely big enough to fit him let alone you as well. And yet…you’d never felt more comfortable. He pulled you back slightly, hands pressed to your hips, chest snugly placed against your back. With every intake and exhale of breath, you felt him move. Felt his body shift. If you focused, you knew you would be able to feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump you’d grown accustomed to.

“Now—“ He precariously balanced his glass on the dash. “Your hands go here.” Covering your hands with his, he showed you how he’d position himself if he were flying. The cold touch of the buttons and knobs beneath your fingers sent electricity up your spine. “These are to shoot.” Another shift. “And this is to aim.”

You sucked in a breath. “Seems complicated.”

“Not at all.” His fingers slid up your arm, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You tried to remember how to take a single breath. “You just have to understand how the ship works. How she moves, what she likes.”

Your breath hitched, body leaning into him more, and finally you felt it. The wall holding both of you back crumbled to the ground. All that remained now was the will to finally do something about it. So you let his hands guide you, watching in anticipation as they moved to your own body, pressing your palms into your stomach.

“There’s always a heart of a ship,” he murmured, moving your hand down. “A pilot guiding the way.”

“Poe…”

"After all, we've got to guide the ship back home." A soft whimper left your lips, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs to contain yourself. If the cockpit of his ship wasn't so fucking small, you had no doubt you'd be spread on his lap, lips connected to his already.

He grinned, his lips brushing across the back of your neck. “For me…” He stopped right above the hem of your pants, your fingers aching to finally delve down further. “That’s always been you.”

The alcohol had all but burned out of your system from how warm you were. His touch guiding yours seemed to have lit something in the base of your stomach, causing it to spread outwards. And you needed more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed your hand beneath the coarse fabric of your pants. The feeling of him cupping your mound—using you all the while—sent a jolt across your body; a soft moan falling free past your lips.

“Maker starlight,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He wasn't wrong. You could feel yourself dripping the longer he spoke, his words affecting you more than you anticipated. Ever since you first met, Poe always held a power over you. A reminder that no matter how many times you tried to rid yourself of him, no matter what you did...he would remain burned into your soul. He'd be part of you until you drew your final breath in this galaxy.

"It's cause of you," you gasped, your fingers and his sliding through your slick. Running along the lips of your cunt, skimming past your clit entirely. "Oh—"

The scrape of his teeth along your neck nearly did you in entirely, the plea hanging off the tip of your tongue in anticipation. He was toying with you. Playing you like a fucking instrument and listening to your melody. Drowning in the sounds you made—the ones he dreamed of. If there was a life after this, a fated place he could go to rest, he'd want it to be here. Crammed into this cockpit with you on his lap, the feel of you sliding through his fingers and the echo of your voice breathing his name sweeter than the alcohol you had handed him earlier.

Poe would do whatever he could to make this moment last just a minute longer.

"Need you."

He kissed the junction where your neck and shoulder met, fingers still guiding yours through your own heat. "I know you do starlight. But you're gonna cum for me like this first." Your sweet little gasp ripped him a part. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off nearly coming in his pants. "Let me guide you."

You nodded and spread your legs as wide as they could go in the cramped space. It wasn't very far, nor did it give him space to do what he really wanted to do to you, but it would have to do for now. The noise of the celebration in the distance only grew louder as people consumed more alcohol, the joy bleeding into the air. But you couldn't give a shit at that moment about why they were happy, or even what occurred before today.

You were lost to the depths that Poe pulled you into.

Heat spilled between your fingertips, a sticky mess starting between the two of you, but that seemed to only drive him forward. He pressed down, sliding your fingers into you with ease, his delving in right beside you—stretching you in a way that had your back arching. Wrapped his arm around your waist, he kept you still, his chin set on your shoulder and chest heaving with controlled breaths. A way for him to keep the last bits of his sanity as he felt your walls clamp around his fingers.

"Fuck baby," he grit between clenched teeth. "You really did need me huh?"

Nodding, you felt him press even further, fingers searching for something.

"You're gonna make a mess on me." Pumping his hand, he felt your body shudder—your mouth falling open as a ragged moan echoed in the ship. "Gonna take me so easily. I'll slip right in."

You burned from the inside out. A searing heat pulling tight across your body until you could nothing but fall into it. There was no fighting against that aching bliss, no running from what you wanted, what you dreamed of. Poe was intent on breaking you apart right there on his lap, and he'd watch with a smile on his face as you spilled yourself between the rough pads of his fingers. As you made a fucking mess on his lap.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, curling his fingers forward and nudging against something blinding. You cried out, hand grasping at his wrist to either pull him away or keep him right there. You couldn't tell at this point. And he smiled. "Is that it?" Rubbing against the spongy patch along your walls, he felt your entire body lock up, a whimpered sob breaking from your chest. "Yeah. That's fucking it."

You tried to warn him, his name a garbled echo of nonsensical letters on your tongue. But he already knew. His hand sped up, practically pushing your fingers out of the way as he gave you everything you wanted. Poe was certain that he wanted this more than you, that deep down he needed to know that you came because of him. That he was capable of turning you into a sobbing mess.

The echo of his pained grunt was loud in your ears, his hips pressing up into you to relieve the pressure of need he felt, and that's what did it. The knowledge that he was as gone as you were. That he had always wanted you.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, a splintered moan falling past your parted lips as the pleasure spilled over. And he buried his face into your neck, a broken sound of his own muffled by your warm skin. He fought against finishing, biting into your shoulder as he worked you through your release. Adamant to make this last for you—to drag you to the Maker and back with a sated smile on your face.

Eventually you couldn't take it anymore, pleasure bleeding into pain, and you dragged his hand away. A breathless sigh of his name shooting right to his cock.

Without knowing it you had broken him for anyone else. Obliterated his ability to ever see someone the way he saw you.

You and your beauty. Your ability to render him speechless, breathless, and at your fucking mercy. For so long he was the ship lost in space with no sense of direction to lead him back to something real, a purpose. But then you settled into his heart. You became his pilot, guiding him through the never-ending void of space. You kept him afloat even as the weight of the galaxy threatened to drag him down, happy to watch him crash and burn in as so many others had done before.

"That was new," you giggled, hand reaching back to run through his hair.

He smiled, his heart twisting in his chest and fingers still covered in your slick coming to grip at your hips. "To think..." Pressing your ass down against his hard cock, he felt the breath hitch in your chest. "We could have been doing this the whole time."

"W-What a loss," you breathed, that now familiar all encompassing need filling your veins once more.

As if he knew your body so well already, he began to pull at your pants, helping you strip yourself to the best of your ability. The soft clinking of his belt echoed loudly in the cockpit and for a moment you were sure that people in the distance could hear it. But that thought quickly left your mind the second you felt the hot skin of his cock pressing against your lower back—his precum wet and sticky now smeared against your skin. Saliva filled your mouth, the ache pulling at your chest, clawing its way to the surface.

You didn't simply want him. That was too small of a word to explain the feeling in your body. You breathed for him. You lived for him. Poe was the blood that streamed in your veins, the reason your heart beat the way it did. Because it beat for him.

"Say you want this," he grunted, grinding against your skin, his fingers digging in harder than before. Until blood nearly pricked at the surface.

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth before he could even finish speaking. "Maker, I've wanted this for so long."

A growl hit your ears, his nose pressed into your back as he lifted you slightly, and you felt like you would rip to shreds if he didn't hurry. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding into you with slippery ease. And you pressed back against him, desperate to feel him sink into you fully. To be stretched out around his cock. Poe choked on his breath when your warm heat encompassed his throbbing length so suddenly, nearly throwing him off the edge entirely.

"Fuck starlight. You're gonna have to give me a second."

Your lips curled up into a grin. "Yes, General."

For a moment Poe could only process the breaths he took, the word entering his already blank mind. It wasn't until a searing heat shot up his spine at the sound of his title leaving your lips, did he fully understand. His hips pushed up into you, forcing him to sink just a bit deeper. You clutched at the side of the ship, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. The position had him pressing right along your walls, the underside of his cock grinding blissfully against you.

"I used to think you had no idea." He pushed you up slightly until his cock was halfway out and he glanced down, moaning at the sight of him covered in your slick. Only to pull you back down hard. Your choked cry was like music to his ears. "Didn't know what you do to me. How my whole fucking body belonged to you."

"Poe—"

He repeated the movement, smiling at the noises that came free. "But I was wrong."

A pressure quickly built in the base of your stomach, threatening to destroy you. And you chased it. Meeting his thrusts, you fucked yourself on his cock, hands pressed to the dash in front of you and back arched to find the perfect angle that made your toes curl in your boots. Ragged breaths filled the space, accompanied by broken moans and stunted grunts. Each one louder than the last as you both took and took and took, until the very edge of bliss mounted in your bodies.

He gripped the back of your neck, hand fisting at your hair as he pulled you back roughly against his chest. And you fell into it. Whining his name when he grinded up slowly, your walls clamped down around his cock. You could barely see straight through the burn of tears that glazed your eyes, a fucked out expression painted perfectly on your face. And Poe wished he could see you from where he was, catch a glimpse of the way your eyes rolled back, neck on display for him to bite.

"You know exactly what you do to me, starlight." His mouth fell open in a silent moan when his balls drew up painfully, cock throbbing along your walls. He quickly shoved his hand into your slick, fingers locating your clit with ease.

"Maker—" You heard him bite out your name like a prayer he couldn't get out fast enough. A plea for you to give him everything you had, everything that made you who you were. "I'm— Fuck I-I'm—"

"Yes," he groaned, using his other hand to cup your chin and pull your lips to his. Finally kissing you after years of dreaming it would happen. "Fucking give it to me baby."

His tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing every sound you made with ease. The feel of his lips against yours shoved you towards your release. A muffled cry of his name echoing in his mouth as your body went taut, thighs quaking as you gushed on his cock. He choked, mouth open and panting against yours, following you instantly and spilling into your cunt—filling you until you were sure it was dripping out of you and gathering at the base of him.

"Yours," he sighed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. "'M yours."

The twist of your heart brought you down from your high, your eyes fluttering open as he stared at your kiss swollen lips, the way his spit smeared along your bottom one. You expected him to take it back once he slipped out of you. Surely this was nothing but a dream, a moment in time that may never happen again. But in his eyes you saw devotion. You saw the inevitable future that was always bound to happen.

"Me too."

He smiled, nose brushing against yours. "Guess we're stuck with each other starlight."

"That doesn't sound too bad to me, General."

He tsked under his breath, fingers coming to grip your chin—brown eyes flashing up to meet your gaze. "You're causing trouble."

You grinned, grinding on his softened cock that was still buried deep in you. "And if I am?"

The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, slowly growing hard with interest. "Hands on the controls baby." He nipped at your bottom lip. "You know what to do."

A soft flutter filled your stomach as you followed his direction. Taking the lead in a dance that you were now familiar with. With Poe everything came with ease, as if you'd gone through it with him hundreds of times over. And guiding him home was just the beginning.

[twinterrors29]

during the clone wars, the 212th found themselves staying for a day or two on a planet who they'd saved

despite the language barrier, the citizens managed to communicate that they'd like to build a monument to the Jedi who saved them, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and got the Jedi and his Commander's permission before they were abruptly called away to the next battle

however, they never actually asked which of the men they talked to was the Jedi, and which the Commander, and since they didn't speak Basic (or any other language common off their own planet), weren't able to fact check their model

and of course, since Marshall Commander Cody was the one carrying his Jedi's lightsaber on his hip nearly the entire visit, they picked up a skewed impression of which of the pair was the General

due to the hardship of the war and the years following it, it takes the people years to build their intended statue, long enough for the event to be separated in the minds of any Imperial watchers, and since all signage and discussion took place in the local language, no one picked up on the fact that this monument was intended dedicated to the Jedi

miraculously, this saved it from the Imperial purge of any and all remnants of the Jedi

after all, to an outside observer, the statue depicted a clone, not a Jedi, and only a very select handful would have recognized the significance of the strange cylinder hanging from the statue's belt

decades later, while Luke Skywalker desperately searched for any remnants of the Jedi's legacy, he found a mention of a remote planet that Ben had visited during the Clone Wars in the man's journals, which included the addendum that the citizens had informed him that they intended to construct a monument to him, but that he never got to actually see it

Luke, excited for this chance to learn about this period of his people's history, rushed to borrow Threepio for the trip and raced off across the galaxy in search of this monument

when Threepio pointed him to the statue in question though, Luke was terribly confused

who was this man? his face seemed strangely familiar, but he'd think he'd remember meeting someone with such a memorable scar on their face! and that cylinder on his belt did look like what he remembered of Ben's lightsaber...

so Luke called for Ben for an explanation, only for the man to take one look at the statue and start laughing his ass off before disappearing, saying only that he needed to go tell someone about this

[ddejavvu]

the force is strong with him

pairing: darth vader x reader

summary: various ways vader manipulates the force around you

cw: smut - minors dni, toxic relationship (it's literally darth vader), improper use of the force, sensory deprivation/overstimulation, manhandling, don't like, don't read.

happy indy day @hanasnx !!! okay i know i'm a bit late (for your time zone, at least) but uhhh. i was watching indiana jones and building legos okay i promise i was thinking about you the whole day. anyways vader is sexing you soooo hard for your birthday. so so hard and mean.

You are so much more, so much different than a partner to Vader. You're allowed autonomy, of course- what you eat, drink, wear, read, watch is up to you- provided the outfits are selected out of the closet he stocks for you, and the meals are taken at his right hand. But in the desolate grey walls of your lover's in-progress battle station, nothing but vacuous emptiness beyond its walls, your autonomy has merged with his own complicated being, and more often than not you find yourself being directed by the invisible Force that guides his life.

He strides a half-step ahead of you down the halls, but a tight ring of pressure still encompasses your bicep - he's got you in his grasp, even if there's a disconnect between the bruising force around your arm and his curled, leather-clad fingers. He makes elegant, sweeping turns, and you do the same only because he makes you- he's still holding tight to your arm with the Force. If you tried to keep going straight, or turn the other direction, your arm would be separated from its socket.

You obey; the joint stays in tact.

He is particularly fond of nudging you aside with the Force. He doesn't need to - he could wait for you to catch on that he's trying to move past you, or he could simply shoulder you out of the way with his broad frame. But instead an invisible wall bumps into your left side, and you stumble to the right as it prods you sideways, making enough room for the black-clad figure to sweep by.

It doesn't matter if you huff and puff at him, 'I could have moved myself, y'know!' or if you stutter out apology after apology, 'sorry-!', he answers it the same each time. A silent, head-on stare from a menacing mask with no eyes.

Being regarded by your lover is as terrifying as feeling the Force suck the air out of your lungs, and you endure both. A thrill shoots up your spine whenever you hold eye contact with the mask, and Vader is more than happy to stare at you for as long as you'll be stared at. Blinking does not shift his attention; it is a staring contest that cannot be won. Only continued, prolonged, dragged out until your eyes flit elsewhere, and his remain fixed on your figure, watching, always watching.

He doesn't often need to restrain you- who would dare make that mistake twice? - but he does catch you once, only once with his lightsaber.

It had been set carefully aside for your lover's stint in the bacta tank, and you'd stolen it away to your chambers to inspect it. You've always seen it at his side- never out of its holster unless it rested in his black leather grip, and it's been intriguing to you since the day you'd seen it. You'd never gathered the courage to touch it before, though, not until you were confident you could squirrel it away while Vader was unconscious.

The hilt is heavy and cold in your hand- so heavy, so cold. You know the blade inside vibrates with plasma as hot as the fire that had warped your lover's skin, but it feels so soul-suckingly frigid that you're amazed it's ever been used. It's the weight of a thousand kills, the crimson of gallons of spilt blood, and it rests heavily in your hands.

You're only aware of the footsteps steadily pounding towards you after you're frozen in place, limbs suddenly locked- tied with zipties that can't be cut by your mortal hand.

Vader doesn't lecture you- not right away, at least. Instead he thumbs the triggerplate of the saber in your hands with one finger of the invisible hand that's holding you still, and the red blade hums to life mere centimeters from your face. The heat stings at your skin like a swarm of wasps, itchy, tight, hot stinging. It paralyses you only further, and your eyes yearn to widen where you're being held as a statue.

"That is what a lightsaber feels like when it is an inch from taking your life." Vader rasps, his voice mechanic and bone-chilling, "I urge you not to find out what happens when that inch disappears. I will take it away myself if you dare handle my weapon again."

He snatches it away from your grasp, but your hand is still trapped in his cosmic grip, molded perfectly around the hilt of his blade.

"See to it that you do not make me kill you." He speaks plainly, robotic voice inherently devoid of emotion as he towers over your frozen form, "I would not like to spend time replacing you."

Vader's insertion of the Force into your life is present even in sex. Sex with Vader is convoluted, something he enjoys very rarely in its traditional sense. But to reward you for your unfailing loyalty and obedience, you're pleasured quite often, and Vader revels in manipulating the Force around your body.

Sometimes it is merely that invisible hand prying your thighs apart, dipping into the wet warmth of your cunt and spreading you open for him to see. You're sure it's an obscene view, your cunt bared and open and hollow for him to watch as it expands and contracts around a girth that isn't there.

Other times, however, it is darkness, it is the absence of sound, it is the emptiness of floating in a void of your lover's creation. He steals your senses, takes your sight, your sound, your touch. He isolates you in your own body, you can no longer feel the sheets beneath you or hear the rustle of them in your fingers. All he lets you hear is the raspy rhythm of his respirator, not even your own sounds.

He does it because the less you can hear of yourself, the louder you become. You're sheepish to scream when your own ears pick up the sound, but when he blocks it from your senses, your shouts reverberate around the desolate grey walls of your chambers and each one fills up a meter of satisfaction inside of him that he didn't know was still active.

All he lets you hear his him, all he lets you feel is him.

Sometimes he leaves you in the void- all sound and sight and touch absent - for minutes. Sometimes it is an hour, until the surface of your skin beads with sweat and your brain itches desperately for sensation. Then a finger that isn't really there- that's just an extension of the leather-covered one that your lover is holding out beyond the inky blackness of your consciousness - plunges into your cunt, and the only sense you can feel is the penetration. After minutes- hours of feeling nothing, that single thick finger dips past your slit and shorts out the neurons in your brain. It is everything, it is something after nothing and it is Vader watching intently with that permanent stare that you can never escape.

It is touches far too few in quantity that make you squirt and writhe like you've been fucked within an inch of your life. It is something mysteriously disembodied tweaking at your perked nipples, something phantom putting pressure against your clit.

It is Vader, and it is the way he merges his autonomy with yours as a reward for your unfailing loyalty and obedience. You serve him and now you are granted a space within his person- budge over there below his mechanized lungs, settle into the weary cage of his ribs, stay a while.

[lilacmingi]

TOWARDS THE LIGHT

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. And please don’t spam-like!

Pairing: Sith!Seonghwa x Jedi!fem reader

Word count: 16,450

Note: So I didn’t think I’d ever write anything longer than Hongjoong’s D&D AU “A Quest For Love” but here we are lol so strap in because this is a big one

The sizzling sound of clashing lightsabers filled the air in the training room, blue and green beams of light swinging around and colliding with one another with a resounding spark.

Seonghwa's saber was swung towards you, which you blocked, pushing back with your own weapon and successfully deflecting his attack. He let out a huff, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth at the challenge. He always liked battling with you, though you bested him most of the time, he took it as a chance to improve.

The blue beam of light Seonghwa wielded was spun around in a showy manner as he lunged forward, raising the saber. Your eyes stayed trained on him as he approached with an aggressive attack, holding out your green lightsaber in preparation before swinging it at his and successfully knocking it from his hand.

Seonghwa grunted in mild agitation as he landed on the ground, having lost his footing when he landed. His arm shot out and brought the weapon back to his hand by using the Force. He was always good at that.

Getting to his feet, he wasted no time coming at you again, this time with a determined gleam in his eye. His burst of energy took you by surprise and you found yourself scrambling to do something before his blazing beam of light came swinging at you. With only a few seconds to react, your lightsaber came up to halt his attack, the beams making a sizzling sound when touching.

The weapons were pulled away from one another before clashing once more, and again, and again. Each time, neither of you were able to strike the other.

This was a familiar scene. Being in this gray training room with walls made of metal. You and Seonghwa had spent almost your whole lives training to be Jedi. You were Luke's only apprentices. You were the best of friends—inseparable some might say.

After continuing to block attacks, you saw a moment of opportunity and leapt into the air, attempting to use the Force to assist you in going high enough to jump right over Seonghwa. You just barely missed his head as you moved through the air, landing on the ground with a soft huff. Now standing just behind Seonghwa, you held the tip of your lightsaber to the back of his head, making him freeze.

"I win."

"Not bad." He commented with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender before turning to face you. "That Force jump was a little rusty though."

"I thought I'd try something new." You shrugged, deactivating your weapon.

"You could still use some practice." He remarked, doing the same with his saber.

"I'm impressed." A voice full of wisdom spoke from one end of the training room.

You and Seonghwa turned your heads towards the utterance, finding Luke standing in the doorway with a fond expression on his face. He had been watching.

"Y/n, that's the first time I've seen you successfully execute a Force jump. You need a little more practice, but I think you'll have it down in no time."

"Thank you, Master Luke." You bowed at his praises, always honored to receive them from such a well-known Jedi.

"Seonghwa, you have this fire in your eyes when engaged in a fight. You've got determination, but your attacks were a little aggressive. When in battle it's good to be strong and vigorous, but you also need to be fluid and focused. Sometimes hostility isn't the best course of action."

Seonghwa nodded, taking in the information he was being given. He wanted to be a good Jedi, as good as Master Luke, and he would do anything to work towards that goal.

"I'll try and tone it down." He nodded, showing that he understood the critiques he was given.

"Good." Luke smoothed out his gray robes, giving the both of you a once over before speaking again. "You two had better go eat. I'm sure you're exhausted from training. You kids have been in here for hours."

With that, he exited the training room.

Glancing over at your battle partner, you could see his round coffee-colored eyes shine with interest at the mention of food—Seonghwa was always a big eater.

"Let's go." You linked arms with him, tugging him out of the room and into the corridor of the ship you often trained in.

Hurrying down the loading ramp of the spacecraft that was parked amongst the lush greenery, you and Seonghwa hastened across the base past other Resistance members, heading directly for the canteen which was really just a large tent set up for people to eat in.

Seonghwa pushed past the beige canvas flaps and entered the area where a handful of people were eating. His eyes locked on the bar situated at the back of the tent where a droid was busying itself by stacking clean bowls. Plopping down on two of the six vacant barstools, you and Seonghwa rested your elbows on the countertop, the droid rolling over to take your orders. A wooden board with a small selection of dishes carved into it hung from a structural beam above the bar. Seonghwa's index finger hovered in the air as he read over the items as if he hadn't done so the last thousand times you two had been in there. While he decided what he wanted, you waved the droid over and ordered a vitajuice and a warm stew, hoping for something filling after a strenuous practice battle.

"Me too." Seonghwa piped up before the droid rolled away, settling on getting the same as you.

"Copycat."

He snorted-slash-scoffed in response to your playful name-calling. "It sounded good when you ordered it. Also, a vitajuice is what I need right now after all that practice." As if to emphasize his words, he stretched out his back and jerked his head a bit, cracking his neck in the process.

"Sure." You responded with an eye roll.

The low murmur of patrons in the mess tent and the distant sound of clanking dishes in the back floated through the air, filling the comfortable silence between you and Seonghwa as you waited for your meals.

The bar droid rolled out from the kitchen area with two glasses clutched in each of its pincers, placing them in front of you and Seonghwa. After thanking the droid, it got back to work behind the counter stacking dishes, picking up right where it left off.

Taking the straw between your index finger and thumb, you took a sip of the refreshing juice, sighing in satisfaction as the cool liquid coated your mouth.

"Ahh. That hits the spot." You hummed.

"Sure does." Seonghwa agreed, sipping so hard on the straw that his cheeks sucked in.

You cackled in response to the ridiculous sight next to you.

"Easy there, bud. It's not going anywhere." You managed to speak through laughter, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He pulled away with a drawn-out exhale, the drink having obviously refreshed him.

"I could've chugged the whole thing if I really wanted to."

"I don't doubt it."

Seonghwa's large eyes grew in size when a droid from the kitchen rounded the corner with two bowls of piping hot stew a few minutes later, his hungry gaze following the dishes until they were set down before you. Spoons were given to each of you and you wasted no time getting a sizable spoonful of the stew, Seonghwa following suit. Hums made in unison reverberated in both your throats when you took your first bites, the meal warming you from the inside.

"Is it just me or does food taste better after you've been practicing?" You asked.

"It definitely tastes better." Seonghwa nodded in agreement.

After a filling and satisfactory meal, you took a stroll around camp while your food settled. People bustled about, carrying equipment and crates across the way, some taking them into a nearby cave which doubled as a makeshift hangar for one of the many spaceships.

There was a nice breeze jostling the baby hairs that framed your face and fluttering the leaves of nearby trees. The gray fabric of your pants brushed against the tall grass that covered every inch of the area and beyond. Ajan Kloss, the jungle moon where the Resistance base resided, was where you and Seonghwa had been living your whole lives. You were both moved here as kids, probably no older than ten, by your resistance member parents and when your shared force-sensitivity was discovered by Luke, he started training you. It's all either of you had ever known. There were only fleeting glimpses of your old home planet.

A year later, you found yourself sitting on the Millennium Falcon with Seonghwa, seated on the curved bench of the holographic game table in the lounge area watching him play a round of dejarik with Chewbacca. The ship, piloted by Luke and his closest companion, Han Solo, was headed straight to the planet of Ilum to find kyber crystals for yours and Seonghwa's very own lightsabers. It was tradition for younglings to build their lightsaber before moving up to padawan status, but Luke was different. He had his own ways of training that contrasted from how it used to be before the Great Jedi Purge took place and wiped out almost all the Jedi. Thus why you and Seonghwa were just now getting lightsabers. To say you were excited was an understatement.

Chewbacca raised his furry arms up in victory, having beat Seonghwa in yet another round of dejarik.

"Man." Sighed your friend as he leaned back against the bench with a small smirk tugging up at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't feel bad." You gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Chewie has been playing this game for years. He's a dejarik pro. It's nearly impossible to beat him."

"One day." Seonghwa pointed at the undefeated Wookie who waved off his promise dismissively.

"Hey, kids." Han's approaching voice, followed by the man himself, grabbed your attention. "We're on autopilot right now, but we should be to Ilum soon." He then turned to Chewie. "I hope you're going easy on him." He nodded towards Seonghwa.

The Wookie shook his head before throwing his head back to laugh heartily. Han gave a small chuckle and a head shake of his own before leaning to rest against the nearest wall.

"So, lightsabers." He began.

"Yeah." You nodded with a grin. "I'm really excited. This is a special day."

"Very special." Seonghwa agreed. "It's the most significant day for us as padawans."

"Oh, yes." Han nodded. "I know all about it." He paused to look at the both of you. "Y'know, Luke is really proud of you both. I'm sure he's told you that in some way or another, but I figured I'd say something anyway."

You and Seonghwa shared a gentle look with one another, touched by Han's words.

"Alright, well," He cleared his throat and pushed off the wall he was leaned against, heading out of the room. "gotta get back to the cockpit. Chewie, try to let Seonghwa win a round, will ya?"

A year after you and Seonghwa crafted your lightsabers, Master Luke passed away. It was sudden and almost decisive, like Luke knew it was his time to go and so he went to be one with the Force. Things changed after that.

Your training came to a temporary halt and you were left without a Jedi Master. For a week you didn't leave your sleeping quarters. Meals were brought to you via Leia. Chewie even stopped by once. He was good company and his hugs were always healing in a way. You heard Seonghwa was about the same, staying cooped up in his room just like you.

After that first week, you tried to return to normal and Seonghwa started spending time in the training room swinging his lightsaber and screaming until his lungs burned. You only knew that because you saw him once when passing by. That was the only time you saw him, as he stayed locked in his room majority of the time, isolating himself.

A week and four days after Luke's passing, Seonghwa disappeared. You two were both so wrapped up in mourning that you kept to yourselves. Once your mind had cleared enough, you wanted to check on your friend and see how he was holding up. When the door to his sleeping quarters slid open, you were alarmed to find it completely bare. His bed was made and every piece of furniture was cleared off.

The color drained from your face and every part of your body went cold, your heart plummeting to your feet.

"No." You murmured, spinning around and rushing down the corridors of the ship, stopping at the training room only to find it empty.

Stumbling through the halls, you called out Seonghwa's name, the desperation and panic becoming more apparent in your tone.

"Y/n. What's wrong?"

Whirling around on your heel, you spotted Leia standing at the entrance hall of the spaceship.

"Seonghwa's gone." The words left your lips shakily, fading out weakly at the end. "His room is bare. Cleaned out."

Leia hurried over to take you in her arms just as your knees buckled. With Luke's passing still fresh, Seonghwa disappearing suddenly was like rubbing salt in a wound that hadn't even begun to heal.

"It's alright." Leia cooed, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head. "He could've needed some time alone... away from here."

"Why would he just leave without saying anything?"

"It's possible he's dealing with lots of emotions right now. Maybe he was overwhelmed."

The next words you uttered were muffled due to your face being buried in Leia's shoulder. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"He will. Just give him time."

You sat inside your sleeping quarters of a ship parked at the Resistance base, staring fondly at the lightsaber in your hands. Your fingertips glided reverently over the silvery metal of the hilt, admiring the intricate designs that were etched into them—a personal touch. Though you'd possessed the saber for three years, you still admired it.

"Y/n?"

At the sound of your name being called, you lifted your gaze to find General Leia standing in the doorway of your room.

"Come in."

She entered, a solemn expression etched on her aged yet elegant face as she moved to take a seat beside you on the bed.

"You look concerned." Shifting to face Leia, your brows pulled together. "What's wrong?"

"They're after us again."

"They? The First Order?"

She nodded. "They already destroyed our last base and now they're trying to find this one."

"What do we do? Do we move?"

Leia shook her head. "No. We're not giving up. Besides, they haven't found us yet."

"Then, why'd you come to me?"

She pressed her lips together and stood up, smoothing out her attire. "Let's walk."

You stood up immediately and followed her down the corridor of the ship and off the loading ramp.

Although you tried to be patient, you were itching to know why Leia had come to you with this urgent information. However, instead of forcing her to speak, you waited for her to do it on her own accord.

Your gaze moved to the ships parked about the area as you approached, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the hem of your gray tunic. Whatever it was she needed to say, it wasn't good.

"We need you, Y/n." She finally spoke. "You were trained by my brother and then by me for the last three years."

You blinked incredulously, wondering where she was going with this.

"We don't know what the First Order knows about our location or if they even know it at all. So I need you to sneak onto their ship and plant a listening device."

"You need me to do... what?"

"If we could listen in on what they're talking about, we could collect intel, find out what they know, and use it to our advantage."

"Leia I..." You trailed off, reeling from this being dropped on you so suddenly. "I'm sorry. I have to decline. I-I'm not ready."

"You are. You've been ready."

"There has to be someone else."

She came to a stop, turning to face you fully, her expression serious. "There isn't. You're our only hope."

You shook your head. "What if—"

"No." She stopped you. "No what if's. Y/n, if I didn't think you were capable, I wouldn't be sending you on this mission."

You hardly even ventured off Ajan Kloss. How were you expected to carry out this mission?

"I just..." Your mind was a swirling supercell storm of emotions.

There were so many things to consider, like your lack of expertise in other areas besides battle and having no experience in real missions.

"I can't fly a spaceship, let alone sneak into enemy territory with one. How would I even manage to get by their sensors? They'd pick me up in their airspace right away."

"I can do it." Poe piped up as he happened to be passing by. "I've got a First Order ship in the cave over there." He jerked a thumb somewhere behind him towards a cluster of rocks.

"How did you even get one of those?"

He shrugged in response. "Connections."

Just then, Finn passed by, giving you both a friendly smile and a small wave, oblivious to your conversation. You nodded knowingly in immediate understanding.

"Ah. I see."

"So, will you do it?" Leia asked you, bringing the focus back to the issue at hand.

Taking in a deep breath, you let the possible outcomes flicker in your mind like a slideshow. This could all go terribly wrong—or perhaps it could go incredibly well. Leia believed in you and being the only Jedi on the base, you felt obligated to help, not that you could ever say no anyway.

"Yes."

Walking down the familiar corridors of the ship you called home, you tried to process the fact that you'd be going on your first mission very soon. It was a heavy weight to bear and an even bigger responsibility. Lost in thought, you passed by a room that carried bitter emotions, your footsteps coming to a stop beside it without really thinking. Pressing a button, the door slid open and your eyes landed on the space that was untouched for three years.

Seonghwa's room.

Passing the threshold, you stepped inside and glanced around, your fingers caressing the comforter.

"I sure wish you were here right now." You sighed, speaking aloud to the memories of Seonghwa that remained stagnant in the space. "Could really use your help on this one."

A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it down, blinking back tears that started to prick your eyes. At first you were sad and confused about Seonghwa leaving all of a sudden—you still were. Then you got angry, feeling like he walked out on you. Now you were just numb.

"This should've been our mission, not mine."

Dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed, you let out another heavy sigh. Your fingers traced absentmindedly over the sleek nightstand, trailing across the handle of a drawer. Without thinking, you tugged on it, something jostling inside as you did so.

With furrowed brows, you peered into the drawer, your eyes slowly widening when you spotted Seonghwa's lightsaber lying inside. With a shaky hand, you reached in and took hold of the hilt, retrieving it from where it sat for three long years.

He left his lightsaber.

This only raised more questions. Did he just give up? Decide he didn't want to be a Jedi anymore since Luke passed?

An image of Seonghwa living on some run-down planet, isolated and alone, flashed in your mind and you hated it.

Shaking away those thoughts, you stood up, your friend's lightsaber in hand, and left. Seonghwa's abandoned weapon was placed on a shelf in your room for safe keeping in case he returned one day.

The following evening, you gathered in the meeting hall with other Resistance members where a plan was made for how you'd infiltrate the First Order's ship and where to plant listening devices. A layout of the enemy ship was projected into the air showing all the different areas.

"A meeting room would be ideal. As would the main control room of the ship. That is where talks between the generals and captains take place." C-3PO spoke in his posh robotic voice while R2-D2 beeped in response. "You could collect lots of intel there."

You nodded, taking it all in, determined to do your absolute best on this mission.

Staring down the entry point on the First Order ship, you clenched your hands at your sides, anxiety plaguing every inch of your body.

"You got this." Poe's voice came from the cockpit of the ship. "I'll be waiting here for you when you're done. You can communicate through your earpiece and I'll be keeping an eye on you through the tracking device inside of it."

"What if I mess up?"

"You won't. I'll tell you where to go."

"What if I get captured?"

"Then we're coming for you."

With that reassurance, you gave a nod and hopped off the spacecraft and into the hangar, sticking close to the wall. You came equipped with three listening devices to plant and your lightsaber which was strapped to your waist in its holster. Your vigilant eyes stayed trained on the stormtroopers marching about the hangar as you slinked along, sneaking behind large First Order spacecrafts parked about the area and using them for coverage until you got to the doors that led to the inside of the ship.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you waited for an opportunity to slip inside when no one was looking. Your hands trembled as you felt the slightest bit of relief that one hurdle had been conquered. Now it was time for the real mission—planting listening devices and not getting caught.

"Poe? I'm in." You whispered.

"Good. You're doing well." He responded through your earpiece. "Go straight and then take a left."

Taking in a deep breath, you proceeded down the empty and darkened corridor of the ship, peering around the corner before taking a turn. There was no time to waste, so you kept moving while waiting for more instructions.

"There you go. Keep going. The meeting room is on your right. Put a listening device under the table in there if the coast is clear."

"Is this it?" You asked once you arrived at a large set of dark gray doors.

"Yes."

Pressing your ear against the cool metal, you listened for voices on the other side, receiving silence in response. Your trembling finger pressed the button to open the doors, a breath of relief leaving your dry lips when you were greeted with the sight of an empty room. Digging out a listening device, you stuck it under the edge of the table, poking your head out to check the halls before swiftly moving out.

"I got it."

"Alright. Proceed down the hall."

Your feet moved quickly, your boots making little noise in the process.

With Poe's direction, you were able to successfully place the second device without issue.

As you fled the area, the sound of stormtroopers talking made you freeze up. Being on a First Order ship, the structure of it was unique with protruding pillars that made for the perfect hiding spot. That, paired with the dim lighting was ideal for your situation, making it easy for you to slip through the shadowy areas. As the voices got closer, you darted to hide yourself behind one of the blocky pillars that jutted out from the wall, pressing yourself against the chilly metal and hoping you wouldn't get caught. The beating of your racing heart thudding in your ears almost completely masked the footfalls of the stormtroopers, your hand hovering over your lightsaber as you watched the two pass by. Your eyes stayed locked on them, following the white-armored figures who didn't notice your presence.

The hand that lingered over your weapon dropped back to your side once the threat was gone and you were on your way.

One more listening device to place.

The intense anxiety you felt before the mission began was not nearly as bad as it was. Having been roaming the corridors of the spaceship for the last ten minutes or so, you managed to get used to the task you were carrying out. That being said, there was still the anxiety of everything going wrong, however, you tried to keep your hopes up.

"Y/n? You still there?"

"Yeah." You let out an exhale. "Stormtroopers passed by. I was hiding."

"Good call. Your last destination is the control room. That'll be difficult because it'll be full of ship staff I'm sure."

Poe could hear your sigh through the earpiece.

"Hey, you got this." He encouraged.

"I know."

"You don't sound very confident."

"I'm not." You murmured, peering around a corner before rounding it. "But I'm gonna pretend to be."

"There you go. Fake it 'til you make it."

A mix between a scoff and a chuckle left you.

"Control room is up the way. Keep an eye out though, there might be some unsavory individuals in there."

That made your heart jump with dread. Unsavory individuals?

"Like who?"

"Ones in higher ranks, like generals."

"I see."

You proceeded down the corridor, pressing yourself behind another metal pillar to hide from more approaching stormtroopers. As soon as they passed, you got back to the mission.

"The doorway should be directly ahead of you." Poe informed.

"I see it."

A few feet in front of you was an open doorway, multiple uniformed people sitting in front of large control panels. Holding your breath, you drew closer to the doorway, daring to peer inside. Standing at the forefront of the room in front of a massive window and more controls was a man in a black uniform, probably a general, discussing something with another crew member.

"Just stick the tracker in a corner or something. Don't stay too long." Poe's voice spoke into your ear.

With the last listening device in hand, you scanned your surroundings and took a step into the control room, spotting one of those structural pillars. The little device was placed into the junction between the wall and the column, unable to be spotted unless someone was really looking for it.

Back on the ship, Poe watched the red dot on his little handheld tracker screen as it moved along the halls of the First Order ship.

"You got it?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Nice work." He grinned. "I knew you could do it. Now get back here and let's split."

"Copy that."

His eyes stayed locked on the red dot traversing the map as he gave you directions. Every few feet, you'd stop, assumably to hide from passerby in the ship, before resuming.

"Almost there." He said.

You were approaching the hangar, only one turn down the hall and you'd be home free.

The dot stopped moving.

A gasp sounded from your end and Poe's heart sank.

"Y/n?"

"Well, well, well. What's this?" A male voice spoke, sounding close to you.

More panicked noises came through, getting quieter before Poe heard a distant "No!" from you before the feed got staticky, a crunch, and then silence.

"Y/n?" The panic in the pilot's voice rose. "Are you there? Do you copy?"

Nothing.

Poe looked out the windshield of the First Order ship he used to sneak in, peering down at the stormtroopers lingering about. Some of them had their hands held to the side of their helmets before turning to look directly at the spacecraft Poe was occupying.

"Blast!" He hissed through his teeth.

Not only had he lost contact with you, but it seems whoever caught you had notified everyone on board. He had no choice but to hightail it out of there, lest he get captured as well.

"Sorry, Y/n." He murmured, sitting upright in his seat and starting up the ship. "New plan."

The stormtroopers below started shooting at the spacecraft as it lifted off the floor, the hangar door beginning to close. Poe pushed the handles on the control panel forward and the ship plowed down the troopers close by.

"C'mon. C'mon." He spoke through clenched teeth, directing the spacecraft towards the exit, picking up speed.

The gap was slowly closing and it seemed Poe wasn't gonna make it. He winced as the top of the ship scraped against the closing hangar door, not doubt denting and scratching the exterior, as it slipped out into the open space.

A sigh of relief left the pilot as he made his escape, silently vowing to come back with a whole team of Resistance fighters to bring you home just as he promised.

You'd been listening to instructions from Poe, coming to a stop to peer around the corner when he told you to take a turn. That's when someone grabbed you from behind, making you gasp. You couldn't see who it was as you struggled in their grip.

"Y/n?" Poe asked.

"Well, well, well. What's this?" A male voice spoke, a gloved hand moving into your peripherals as your earpiece was pulled out and dropped to the floor.

"No!" You exclaimed.

You could barely hear Poe's panicked voice from the device as it fell, clattering to the metal flooring, your captor swiftly crushing it under his chunky black boot.

You writhed in his hold, somehow managing to slip out, stumbling forward and reaching for your lightsaber which you withdrew from its holster and activated it, the green beam humming as it extended from the hilt.

Your enemy, who donned an all-black outfit and a hood that concealed his face, activated his own saber, a blazing red beam lengthening at his side.

With hardly any time to react, you held your lightsaber up, blocking an aggressive attack from the Sith in front of you. Any anxiety you felt was numbed by your survival instincts and the desire to make it back home—if that was even an option anymore. For all you knew, Poe could've abandoned the mission for the sake of safety.

Clenching your teeth, you pushed back against the red beam with all the power you could muster, getting the Sith away just long enough to scramble backwards down the corridor. It didn't take long before he was back on you again, swinging left and right while you blocked and dodged his attempted attacks. Your back hit a door and your free hand felt for a button, pressing it. A hissing sound came from the hatch as the doors slid open and you staggered backwards inside. The area had electrical panels on the wall and was more spacious than the ship's corridor, giving you more room to fight and move around.

The Sith strode into the room with you and swiped at your side, which you barely evaded. In turn, you let out a grunt and swung your weapon at his chest, which he leaned back and avoided with ease.

Straightening his posture, he brandished his lightsaber in preparation, his boots thumping heavily against the floors as he approached. A shout left the hooded man as he swung at you, the saber making a resounding voosh as the blade was forced through the air.

Your eyes widened as his saber collided with yours harshly, the force behind the action making you stumble back slightly, your arms trembling as you tried to push back against it.

You weren't prepared for this.

All that training and you weren't prepared.

With a jerk of his lightsaber, The Sith knocked your weapon right out of your hand, causing it to deactivate and skid across the room.

The cloaked figure held his weapon above his head, spinning while thrusting the blade in your direction, the force of the showy action causing his hood to fly off just as you fell to the ground trying to back away.

"Ugh!" A grunt was forced out of your body as you collided with the floor, your eyes staring down the humming red beam pointed directly at your throat.

Your chest moved up and down rapidly with each shallow breath, looking up at your attacker with wide, horrified eyes as you realized his hood had flown off. Every limb in your body went cold, the blood draining from your face in an instant.

"Seonghwa?"

His hair was longer, reaching just above his shoulders, some of the long strands stuck to his forehead from the intense fight. His eyes, which you remembered being round and full of warmth, were now sharp and cold as ice. Your best friend had fallen victim to the Dark Side.

His eyes widened for just a millisecond at the sound of his name before narrowing, his gaze hardened and full of contempt as if just seeing you brought back unwanted memories.

"What did they do to you?" Your voice came out in a faint whisper of shock and horror.

"They didn't do anything to me."

His tone was harsh and calloused, no sign of the once upbeat and soft-spoken Seonghwa you knew three years ago.

The severity of the situation hit you and you began scrambling back away from the deadly red beam of light in your face, your arm reaching out to bring your own saber back to you. It slowly started rolling towards you only for Seonghwa to stretch an open hand out towards it, intercepting it and throwing the weapon across the room by an invisible force.

"You may have been a better fighter, but you always were a horrible user of the Force." He spat.

The doors to the room hissed and two stormtroopers walked in.

"Take her away." Seonghwa ordered sternly watching you with an unchanging and stoic expression as you were roughly tugged to your feet and dragged out of the room. "Detention cell 1117." He specified.

There were so many things you wanted to say, yet nothing came from your lips. All you could do was stare at Seonghwa with an expression full of confusion and hurt as you were hauled out of the room.

The cell you were placed in was nothing like you expected; it was clean and equipped with a small, but cushioned cot. The stormtroopers shoved you into the room, slamming the door shut, giving you one glance through the gated window before marching away.

You dropped down onto the cot, your trembling knees no longer able to support you, letting you collapse.

Seonghwa.

He didn't run away, he became a Sith. All these years worrying and wondering where he was, if he was okay, asking yourself why he left... and he was here.

How did this happen?

It was the question that kept spinning in your mind, echoing repeatedly.

How did this happen?

There was no way Seonghwa, your best friend, the man you secretly liked, had turned to the Dark Side. It didn't make sense. He never showed any desire to cross over, not that you could recall, anyway.

The dull ache in your heart grew in intensity the longer you thought about what your best friend had turned into.

The heavy thump of approaching footsteps made you lift your head, your eyes locking with those of the man you once knew. The door to your cell swung open and he stepped inside, his presence alone shifting the air in the room.

No words were exchanged at first. All you could do was stare at him, taking in the angry lines etched on his otherwise flawless face. His intense eyes stared you down, the scowl on his face not budging. This new version of Seonghwa was jarring to say the least, but he was still someone you used to know.

"So this is where you ran off to." You murmured.

He didn't speak, staring you down in silence. His lack of response was both perplexing and agitating. Did he have nothing to say?

You scoffed, shaking your head as a spark of anger ignited. "I can't believe you." Your expression was full of emotion, rage fueled by sadness and betrayal. It felt like you'd been punched directly in the heart.

Seeing Seonghwa again wasn't the joyous reunion you imagined it would be—it was much worse. Instead of embracing him in a tearful hug, you had been blocking his aggressive attacks and trying to make it out of the battle unscathed.

As Seonghwa stood just inside the cell, the emotions you felt rapidly turned into fiery anger that unfortunately reared it's ugly head.

"You got weak." You spoke through gritted teeth, your fists clenching.

In a fit of sudden rage, you stood up from the cot and charged at Seonghwa with a shout.

Your breath hitched when you felt a pressure around your throat, your wide eyes staring at the man you called your best friend with a gloved hand outstretched and fingers partially curled. A strained noise left your dry mouth as you clawed at your throat futilely, desperate to get rid of the invisible force that constricted your windpipe.

"You're the weak one." Seonghwa spoke, his voice low and threatening as his extended arm lifted higher, his gaze boring holes into you.

"Pl-please." You choked out, your legs kicking as your feet left the floor, black spots dotting your vision.

His hand squeezed more, curling in just another inch or so and applying more crushing pressure to your windpipe.

"Hwa." You whimpered, your voice nothing but a hoarse and whispered plea.

"Don't call me that." He hissed through clenched teeth. "That name died when Luke did. It's Mars now."

That's the last thing you heard before the black creeping in your peripherals took over.

"Do you ever feel like you have a weight to carry?" You asked Seonghwa, gazing up at the star-dotted galaxy above, seated in a cross-legged position on top of the Millennium Falcon. "Like a burden?"

"A burden?" Seonghwa echoed. "You mean like with glorious purpose?"

You sat there for a moment before shaking your head. "No. That's not it. That's someone else." You paused, reconsidering. "Though maybe it is glorious purpose in a way." You murmured mostly to yourself. "Being Luke's only two apprentices is a huge honor, especially since there aren't many Jedi being trained anymore, but do you ever feel you're expected to be this outstanding prodigy? Like you have all these expectations to live up to?"

Seonghwa hummed thoughtfully. "No. I see it more as a goal to reach."

"But do you think it's attainable? Don't you ever worry you won't be good enough?"

"Of course I worry. Everyone does, but I don't think Luke would've chosen us if he didn't think we were capable." Seonghwa turned to you, his hand sliding over to take hold of yours and give it a squeeze. His touch was warm and brought comfort to you almost immediately, chasing away your worries. "Let's switch to a brighter subject, like lightsabers."

You raised your brows, shooting Seonghwa an unimpressed look at his pun.

"That was completely unintentional."

"Whatever you say." You teased.

"Back on the subject, when do you think Luke will let us build our lightsabers?"

"When he thinks we've earned it, I guess."

"I hope it's soon."

You nodded in agreement, turning back to the stars above, your gaze drifting to look at the distant planets surrounding Ajan Kloss.

"You know, one day we're going to be real Jedi." Seonghwa's voice broke you from your daze.

"I know. Despite the lingering worries, I'm looking forward to the day when our training is complete."

"Can you imagine? The two of us going on missions together, tag-teaming the First Order, taking down the Sith." He held his hands out in front of him, holding an imaginary lightsaber as he mimicked its noises, swinging it left and right.

His little performance made you giggle, his laid back and silly personality always bringing a smile to your face.

"Then maybe I'd do one of these." He held his hand out towards the ground below, a small rock lifting from the grass as it was flung off into the night by an invisible force.

You chuckled amusedly. "Always trying to show off those abilities, huh?"

"No." He grinned softly. "But if you and I are ever in battle and someone gets too close to you, I won't hesitate to Force choke them."

His comment jarred you a bit and you shook your head. "We don't do that."

"I know... but I'd do anything to protect you."

A small noise left the back of your throat when your eyes cracked open, your mind fuzzy as you slowly came to. Your eyelids fluttered, blurred by tears which you blinked away, eyes adjusting to the dim holding cell you'd been tossed into earlier. Bringing a hand up, you wiped the small amount of wetness away from your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, wincing when you felt a soreness in your neck. Your hand moved down to your throat, gingerly touching the tender skin, hissing softly at the sensation that followed.

You swallowed back tears that threatened to well up, realizing just how much Seonghwa had changed. He physically hurt you.

Not once did it occur to you that Seonghwa had crossed over to the Dark Side. There wasn't an ounce of evil in him, so it was never a possibility. You just assumed he had given up being a Jedi and went off to another planet to live a life away from the Resistance. Luke's passing hurt both of you and you wouldn't have blamed Seonghwa if he refused to be taught by anyone else.

But that's not what happened.

The Dark Side got to him... or someone.

Seonghwa's eyes watched his superior intently as he paced about the control room, his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

"Why was she here?" The maroon-haired Sith hissed angrily. "How did a Jedi sneak in here?"

"The troopers told me she arrived with someone else on a First Order ship." Seonghwa responded, his hands resting behind his back.

"They have one of our ships?" He spoke through gritted teeth, jaw tightening.

"It appears so."

"Go talk to her. Ask her what she was doing here. Do whatever it takes to get the information if she refuses to talk."

"We have people for that." Seonghwa mentioned, feeling his gut twist uncomfortably at the thought of facing you again.

"I want you to interrogate her. Do you have a problem with that, Mars?"

"No."

"Then do as I say. Interrogate her."

"Yes, Hongjoong."

You sat upright when the door to your cell groaned open, your eyes landing on Seonghwa. Your body moved on its own, scooting back on the cot to put more distance between you both. Perhaps you subconsciously feared him a little now after what he did to you.

He noticed the way you cowered a bit, but his expression remained the same, unchanging and giving away no indications of how it made him feel.

"Why are you here?" He inquired firmly, his voice carrying authority.

His question was met with complete silence. This agitated him, his jaw ticking with annoyance. "Answer me."

"I won't." The words were uttered quietly.

"Why are you here?" He asked again.

You shook your head. "I won't tell you."

Seonghwa lifted his hand and you flinched, waiting for the pressure on your throat. Instead, he lowered his arm, dropping it at his side.

"I know the Resistance sent you." He almost spat the name out in distaste. "Why?"

"You know I'm not gonna tell you."

He let out a small growl, his top lip twitching.

"You're in no position to withhold information from me."

That sparked a bit of annoyance, your almost cowardly behavior changing as you sat up straighter on the cot. "Oh yeah? What about how you withheld information from me?"

Seonghwa's brow twitched at your harsh and sharply-spoken words.

"You didn't think to tell me you were considering running away?"

"Why would I have told you?" His eyes narrowed. "It wasn't your business."

"Because I'm your friend... or at least I was. If something was bothering you, you should've told me."

"Friend?" He scoffed. "You were teacher's pet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You were Luke's favorite. He always praised your fighting style and nitpicked mine, said I was too showy and aggressive. Well, I found a place that accepted my fighting style—accepted me."

"Luke accepted you, Seonghwa."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

"Not anymore."

There was a long and heavy silence that followed and it almost felt like, in that time, you were mourning the loss of a friend.

"She what?" General Leia stared wide eyed at Poe who'd just relayed to her that you had been captured.

"They got her."

Leia sighed, lowering her head.

"She planted all the devices though." He added. "So we can listen in and see what they're up to."

She nodded. "We need to start getting a rescue team together for Y/n as soon as possible. Until we're able to bring her back, we see what information we can get from the devices she planted. Pull up the audio." She gestured towards Han Solo, who stood beside her.

He messed with the control panel in front of him, pressing buttons until voices came through.

"What do you mean she won't talk?" An angry male voice questioned.

"She won't tell me why she's here." A second male voice spoke, this one deeper than the first. "She refused."

Leia's brows twitched as she and Han shared a look, both of them finding the voice familiar.

"I told you do whatever it takes to get her to talk." The first male continued, sounding more vexed than a few moments prior.

"I—"

"Does this Jedi girl mean something to you, Mars? Are you going soft?"

"No." The response was firm and clipped.

Han reached up to rub at his scruff contemplatively, his mouth downturned in a deep frown. "I know that voice."

Leia turned to him in silent question. She also recognized the voice but couldn't quite place it.

Han sighed, dropping his hand. "It's Seonghwa."

Three days passed, or what you assumed was days. It was hard to tell. Seonghwa continuously came back to question you, sometimes multiple times a day. You refused every time, not daring to give away any information. He often became irate at your refusal and stubbornness, but he never harmed you again.

Seonghwa stood on the opposite side of your small cell, arms crossed and thick brows tugged together, that same scowl on his face.

"You were sent here by the Resistance. Why?"

"You're the one giving them information on our base, aren't you?" You responded to his question with one of your own.

Being locked away, you had time to think. And now that you knew Seonghwa was a Sith and the First Order was working on finding the Resistance base, it only made sense that your old pal was helping and possibly feeding them information.

"No." He denied firmly, his reaction almost coming across as offended that you'd assume such a thing.

"What do you mean no?"

"I haven't told them anything." He hissed through gritted teeth.

That made you pause, whatever response you had prepared died in your throat the second that sentence left his mouth.

"Why?" Was the only word uttered.

"I'm asking the questions here. Why were you sent here? Did Leia send you?"

Your expression hardened, but Seonghwa saw right through it.

He scoffed. "I knew it."

A sharp puff of air expelled from your nostrils as you mentally cursed yourself for not denying it right away. Though there's no telling if he would've believed you or not, especially if he claimed to already know.

"Why did she send you? Why were you lurking the halls?"

"I won't tell you. I'm loyal to the Resistance and I won't do anything to put them in danger."

"Of course you won't." Scoffed Seonghwa again, your answer not surprising. "How loyal of you." His words were laced with venom and mockery as he spat them out.

It made an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach, wondering what lies they fed your friend to make him so full of loathing.

Every interrogation ended with Seonghwa storming out of your cell in a fit of rage, reporting back to Hongjoong with no new information and receiving a harsh verbal assault in return. It was a repetitive pattern and one the former Jedi was growing tired of.

"It's been a week." Hongjoong hissed out, pacing the control room. "And you still have no information for me."

"She refuses to speak."

"Perhaps she needs someone more forceful."

"No!" Seonghwa took a step towards Hongjoong to block him as he attempted to exit the room. He then cleared his throat before repeating in a more stern and confident manner, "No. I have it under control."

"If you had it under control you would've tortured her until she spilled. Then I wouldn't be waiting for intel. I'll interrogate her."

Seonghwa side stepped again. "I said I have it under control." He doubled down on his words.

Hongjoong's expression hardened, his intense gaze searching Seonghwa's face for what felt like an eternity before speaking.

"Three days. If you haven't given me any useful information by then, I'm stepping in."

"Yes, Hongjoong."

The following day, Seonghwa was back in your cell, staring at you with the same stony expression. "When will you give up?"

"Never."

"Tch." He scoffed at your never-ending defiance.

"Why do you keep grilling me?"

"Because you're the prisoner here and my superior wants to know why you were sneaking around the ship like a little womp rat."

Your features twitched in mild agitation at his slightly stinging words. "How do you feel knowing your buddies are trying to track down the location of our home?"

Seonghwa scowled and crossed his arms. "It's not our home."

"It is. You still have a place there, Seonghwa."

"Quit calling me that." He hissed out through gritted teeth.

The room grew quiet and you were left to sit in complete silence for a few moments until you spoke up again with another query.

"You know where the Resistance base is. Why haven't you told them?" You asked, knowing that if he relayed that information to his superiors, the First Order would've already attacked Ajan Kloss by now.

Seonghwa stiffened almost imperceptibly and you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't focused on his body language.

"That's not my business."

"Oh but it is. It's your former home, as you claim, so wether you're willing to accept it or not, you have ties to it. If you despise the Jedi so much why haven't you exposed us?" You questioned pointedly. "Why haven't you given away our whereabouts and watched our planet get destroyed?"

It was clear he was growing indignant, his sharp brows tugging closer together, forming eleven lines between them—a sign he was provoked by your words.

"I'll be back to question you again tomorrow. You'd better be ready to give me what I want or it won't end well for you, Y/n." There was an undertone of foreboding in his words as he turned on the heel of his boot and exited the cell, his black cape billowing behind him.

He paused just outside the room, his dark eyes turning to stare at you through the gated window for a moment before he walked away.

Seonghwa paced around his room, tugging frustratingly at his hair while having an internal battle with himself. Why? Why hadn't he told Hongjoong or anyone on the ship about the Resistance base when he'd been actively watching them follow leads and attempting to track down the group? He knows the location. Not only that, but he's had multiple opportunities to divulge that he knows who you are, yet he's kept his mouth shut. He could've easily said something, so why hadn't he?

His ambivalence on the matter was making his head ache. On one hand, he had grown to loathe the Resistance with every fiber of his being and would do anything to destroy them, but on the other... no.

Seonghwa shook his head, gripping at his hair out of agitation while dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Don't be weak." He gritted out.

There is no "on the other hand". He despised the Resistance. He didn't care about anyone there.

A ghostly giggle echoed in his mind, your giggle, one he remembered from the past. Along with it came a flash of you sitting across from him with a bright smile on your face, then a fleeting image of Master Luke.

Seonghwa gave an angry shout, standing up and withdrawing his lightsaber, activating the red beam that hummed when extended fully. His shoulders heaved up and down with each labored breath while his eyes scanned the empty bedroom.

His weapon lowered. No one was there. What was he trying to fight? His past?

The lightsaber was deactivated and Seonghwa slowly sat back down on his bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. His grip on the hilt of his saber tightened as his mind wandered back to you. He had to get information out of you or Hongjoong would step in and he didn't want that.

As soon as the revelation passed his conscious mind, Seonghwa froze. Why did he care wether or not Hongjoong interrogated you? He shook his head as if to push away any notions that he still cared for you. He didn't—did he?

"Why did you have to show up, huh?" Seonghwa asked pointedly the next day while trying to interrogate you once again. It was the first question he asked when he entered your prison cell.

"I'm sorry?"

"You've just made everything more complicated!" He spat, letting his emotions run rampant.

Perplexed, baffled, caught off guard—any one of those words or phrases could've described how you felt in that moment. What did he mean?

"I was doing just fine without you." He added, the harshness in his tone unwavering.

You recoiled at his words, murmuring, "I don't understand."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is your fault!" He pointed an accusatory finger at you.

Your wide eyes locked on the tip of his index finger that was directed at you.

"What's my fault? Seonghwa, I—"

He let out a raging shout that reverberated on the metal walls. "There you go again! Just stop!" He dropped his head, gripping handfuls of inky hair, letting out strained sounds through his teeth. His inner turmoil was showing through his aggressive responses and bouts of fury.

"Talk to me." Your gentle words reached Seonghwa's ears, striking him directly in the chest.

Instead of being snippy with your words, you toned it down, especially after witnessing his display of stress. It didn't matter if he was a Sith. That fact didn't erase any of the memories you shared together and you still thought of him as a friend—or at the very least, a friend that could be redeemed.

The kindness in your voice touched Seonghwa, but at the same time it was making things worse for him, leaving him torn between two opposing emotions.

"I left that life behind." He said, his head still buried in his hands. "Seeing you just... stirred things up."

Ever so slowly, you got up off the cot and took a few tentative steps towards him. He didn't realize you were approaching, too caught up in his own emotions. It was only when he felt your hand gently touch his shoulder that he flinched, raising his head.

"Why'd you leave? What happened?" You asked.

"I was upset." He sighed. "I tried to get my anger out by blowing off steam in the training room but that wasn't enough. So I stole a junky ship and took it out to a nearby planet just to get away from everything for a bit." His eyes showed just how much he was struggling as he spoke.

"Go on." You urged him. "I know you might not think so, but you're still my friend."

His eyes met yours, a flicker of warmth growing in his chest and giving him that little push to continue. "I was walking through a little town trying to clear my head when Hongjoong approached me."

"Who's Hongjoong?"

"My superior." He ran a hand through his long messy hair. "He knew right away that I was a Jedi. He took me into a nearby tavern and bought me a drink. We talked. I told him about Master Luke and how it was frustrating sometimes because I felt as if I wasn't enough. He was so... sympathetic. He made me feel important and told me he would be a better teacher than Luke and that I had untapped potential—that I had purpose Luke didn't see."

"He got to you while you were vulnerable." You stated, shaking your head. "He got into your head, Seonghwa."

"No." His brows creased, eyes narrowing as he responded in a stern manner, jerking away from your hand on his shoulder. "He didn't. When he took me in I was able to fight the way I wanted. I got stronger when Hongjoong trained me."

You shook your head. "He manipulated you."

"He didn't." Seonghwa denied firmly. "Because of him, I realized my purpose."

Your expression fell into one of pity and sorrow as you shook your head, realizing just how badly this Hongjoong guy had warped your old friend's way of thinking.

"I shouldn't expect you to understand." Seonghwa remarked bitterly. "You're a narrow-minded Jedi."

His words hurt, punching you directly in the chest. You really thought you were getting somewhere with him.

"This was a mistake." He grumbled, turning to leave. He let himself get too vulnerable.

"Seong—" The cell door slammed shut, making you wince. "...hwa."

Heaving a sigh, you slumped back against the wall in defeat. You almost caught a glimpse of the old Seonghwa. He was opening up, but he still believed Hongjoong was the good guy in this situation. The hold he had on Seonghwa was too strong and you needed to break it.

The Sith's footsteps were heavy, each thump from his boots echoing down the corridor while a violent storm of thoughts swirled around his head. You were so sweet and genuine, it almost reminded him of how things used to be. And that gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder sparked something.

You're getting weak. He could practically hear Hongjoong. Are you really going to let her get to you with all that mushy stuff?

"No."

Seems that way.

Seonghwa's jaw tightened as if this were all happening in real life.

"I said no."

You're still in love with her, Mars.

"I'm not."

He passed by a couple stormtroopers standing guard on that particular cell block, their heads following the Sith as he passed, muttering to himself.

"What are you looking at?" He snarled at the staring pair, his hand raising as a threat to use his Force abilities on them.

"Nothing." They shook their heads frantically.

"Thought so." He spat, continuing down the corridor.

That night was a sleepless one for Seonghwa. He tossed and turned for what was probably hours, unable to even doze off. Tossing back his black sheets, he swung his legs off the bed, letting out a forceful sigh. You really messed with his head... and his heart. He could still feel the way you laid your hand so gingerly upon his shoulder.

He got to his feet and shuffled over to a wooden chest at the foot of his bed, opening the lid and reaching inside, producing your lightsaber from it. After he had you taken away, he picked up the saber and had been keeping it in his bedroom, unable to hand it over to the seized weapons department for some reason. He gazed down almost wistfully at the silver hilt adorned with unique engravings. His thumb absentmindedly traced over the patterns engrained into the metal while his mind wandered back to a memory that had long been locked away.

"Place the energy core near the kyber crystal." Luke instructed, watching you and Seonghwa.

The components of your lightsabers were scattered along the work table as each of you focused on building your respective weapons, listening to each step you were given.

"Next is the focusing ring. Make sure it's calibrated just right or—"

"Or the kyber crysal will crack." You and Seonghwa finished in unison, chuckling in amusement at the situation.

"Yes, or your sabers could explode when you activate them." Luke added.

The pieces were put into place and you moved on to the next step, adding each component until the assembly was complete. Next came the cosmetic aspects of the process, the step that would give your lightsabers their unique appearances.

The both of you were taught how to customize your weapons with Luke by your side to assist when needed. This ritual of sorts meant a lot to you and Seonghwa, as it was a rite of passage, a symbol that you had grown as Jedi.

"I hope my lightsaber is blue." Seonghwa murmured once the assembly was complete, always having favored that color.

"There's only one way to find out." You placed your thumb on the power button of your saber and counted down before activating your respective weapons.

Just as Seonghwa had hoped, a blue beam extended from his hilt and his eyes went wide with excitement. He then turned to look at your humming blade that glowed a unique purple.

"Not many people have that color." He gaped.

Your round eyes stared at the stunning beam in awe, unable to believe that the weapon you wielded was yours.

Seonghwa felt the same, gaping at his own lightsaber, feeling it's weight and ogling at the shiny chrome silver metal of the hilt.

"I'm glad I got to do this with you." You turned and smiled fondly at Seonghwa, your eyes glimmering with unadulterated joy.

He returned that warm grin. "Me too."

A single tear dropped onto the handle of your lightsaber, stirring Seonghwa from his nostalgic daze. He blinked away some of the moisture in his eyes before wiping them, not realizing he had started crying.

He still cared for you.

He still loved you.

Today. Seonghwa had to get answers today or Hongjoong would step in and take matters into his own hands. He decided last night when he couldn't sleep that he didn't want that to happen and he would do whatever it took to get the necessary information out of you.

"How many days has it been?" You asked when you heard the door groan open, your back facing it.

"Ten." Seonghwa responded, standing just inside the room as he'd been doing since day one. "I'm asking again, why were you on the ship? Why were you sent here?"

You rolled over, your expression weary. "So we're back to this?"

Seonghwa didn't answer, his expression showing hardly any emotion. He was there with a task to complete.

"Tell me." He wasn't demanding or hateful, but there was a tinge of urgency in his tone.

You sat up, pushing back your hair with a sigh. "Can we just drop this for a second?"

He appeared unsure, but let out a reluctant exhale and moved across the small space to sit beside you on the bed. It was the first time he'd done so since you were locked away.

"I missed you, y'know." You didn't care if he believed you or not. You had to let him know.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, his eyes becoming round just like your memories recalled.

"It hurt me when you disappeared. I had just lost Master Luke and then I lost you not long after. It crushed me." Your voice was thick with emotion as you spoke. "I always wondered where you were. I worried about you. I lost sleep over you. I never once thought you'd turn to the Dark Side."

"Neither did I, but I fit well here."

"No you don't. That Hongjoong guy got to you while you were vulnerable and took advantage of your weak state. He got in your head and made you feel special. He doesn't care about you like he says he does."

"And how would you know?"

"Because he's a Sith and they're known for being conniving and manipulative."

Seonghwa became quiet, not fully believing your words about Hongjoong being disingenuous, but feeling as if he shouldn't carelessly disregard them either. Despite that, a sense of urgency to defend his superior rose up within him. "Hongjoong was there for me and picked me up when I was at my lowest."

"I could have done that. I would have done that if you hadn't left."

Seonghwa's jaw tightened as an uncomfortable ache became present in his chest. Perhaps guilt?

"I loved you, Seonghwa."

Those next words were a punch directly to the gut, the breath feeling like it was knocked out of him. You loved him? For how long?

He swallowed thickly, his breathing shaky. "Why did Leia send you here? To collect information? To spy?" Again, his tone wasn't demanding, but it was stern.

It hurt not having him respond to your admission, but instead of letting it get to you, you pushed aside your feelings and looked him in the eye. "I won't betray the Resistance. You can keep me here as long as you see fit, but I won't say a word."

It was obvious you didn't realize the magnitude of the situation, but Seonghwa remained somewhat calm, hoping a more gentle approach would coax it out of you.

"You don't trust me anymore?"

"No." Your response was swift. "I don't. You're the enemy now."

"But you said you still saw me as a friend."

"There's exceptions to that statement."

He was getting nowhere with you yet again. However, you did open up about how you felt when he ran away so perhaps there was hope.

"Fine." He stood up and left without another word, hoping to get more time to interrogate.

Hongjoong was discussing something with one of the navigators on the ship when Seonghwa approached. "Ah, Mars." He strode towards his apprentice. "I hope you have good news for me."

"I'm getting through to her."

The redhead's expression fell into one of disappointment and annoyance. "So you haven't got any information out of her?"

"I'm trying to. I've taken a different approach and she's coming around."

"But you still haven't got any information out of her." He stated factually.

"No, not yet. I just need one more d—"

Hongjoong's jaw tightened and he held his hand up, Seonghwa's breath hitching as he was forced aside, the invisible pressure around his throat increasing.

"Three days, I said."

"I... know." Seonghwa choked out.

"I gave you three days and you still have absolutely nothing. You're useless, Mars." He spat out.

Seonghwa gasped for air, his booted feet slipping along the flooring while he was being held slightly off the ground.

Hongjoong released his invisible grip on Seonghwa who fell to his knees, leaned over his hands which were planted on the floor as he took in ragged breaths.

Looking around, he saw some of the control room staff turned in their seats staring at him as he lie crumpled and weak on the floor. Meanwhile, Hongjoong was talking to a stormtrooper as if he hadn't Force strangled his apprentice. In that moment, as he was struggling to bring air back into his lungs he realized you were right. Hongjoong didn't care about him.

You're useless, Mars. The words echoed in his mind on repeat.

"Take me to her cell." Hongjoong's voice reached Seonghwa's ears, causing him to lift his head. "If you want things to get done you have to do them yourself." He complained to the trooper, taking a glance back at Seonghwa with a demeaning expression.

"Wait!" He coughed.

The maroon-haired Sith paused and turned to look down at Seonghwa who was just managing to get to his feet.

"You said three days. The day isn't over yet." He spoke hoarsely, but kept a steady tone so as not to give away how his lungs burned.

"Alright. I want results by the end of the day."

The door to your cell opened up and to your surprise, it was Seonghwa again. He sometimes showed up multiple times a day to interrogate you, but never this quickly. It had only been about ten minutes since he left.

He was rubbing at his throat with a gloved hand, his eyes looking frantic.

Something was wrong.

"Seonghwa?"

"Look, I need you to give me a reason as to why you were sent." There was that sense of urgency in his tone again, more obvious than earlier. And he didn't even snap at you for calling him by his real name.

"What happened?"

"Things won't be good for you if you don't cooperate." He ignored your question and you noticed how scratchy his voice sounded.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"He hurt you."

Seonghwa stiffened and you knew your assumption was correct.

"You have to tell me, Y/n." His gaze turned serious and the desperation in his tone rose. "If you don't..." He hesitated to continue, but did so anyway. "Hongjoong is going to interrogate you instead and he won't be gentle or kind."

You'd known Seonghwa since you were kids and could tell when he was worried, but this wasn't worry—this was fear. All this time you'd refused to speak and all it took for you to crack was for Seonghwa to be in distress.

"I was planting listening devices." You caved, spilling almost immediately.

"Where?"

"In the West corridor near the hangar, in a meeting room, and in the control room where the ship is piloted."

His eyes met yours, turmoil and concern swirling around his brown irises. "I'm sorry it had to be like this."

And that was the last thing he said before turning away and leaving.

"I have news." Seonghwa announced, entering the control room.

Hongjoong turned towards him, an expectant look on his face.

"She cracked."

"It's about time."

"The Resistance base is on Takodana."

"Takodana?" Hongjoong repeated, raising a brow. "She told you that?"

"Yes."

"It's not the information I asked for."

"But it's helpful to us. It's what we've been working towards for weeks." Seonghwa mentioned.

"That's true." Hongjoong gazed out at the vast galaxy.

"Who cares why she was on the ship? We have their location."

Hongjoong nodded, murmuring, "Takodana, huh? Why didn't I think of that? It's a forest planet; the perfect place to go off the grid."

"Exactly."

Hongjoong snapped his fingers, beckoning the First Order's battle coordinator over. "I want you to send a fleet to Takadona right away." He ordered.

"Yes, sir." The man nodded before marching off.

Hongjoong passed Seonghwa, stopping long enough to say, "Maybe you can be useful after all."

His watchful eyes followed the redhead until he left the room before he made any moves of his own, exiting the control area and heading directly for the meeting room.

There was only one room on the ship used for meetings and Seonghwa knew exactly where it was.

Slipping into the empty meeting room, he surveyed the area, checking in crevices and corners before peeking underneath the large circular table in the middle of the area. Sure enough, there was a small device no bigger than the tip of his finger under the edge of the table. Stepping away, he began pacing around, mulling over the gravity of what he was about to do. Taking in a deep breath, Seonghwa prepared himself for what he was about to say, knowing it would change everything.

"I don't know who's listening to this but I need your help. It's me..." He hesitated. "Seonghwa. I don't have time to explain everything but I've just told my superior the Resistance base is on Takodana. They're sending a fleet of troopers that way immediately. Reinforcements here will be low. I need you guys to come and get Y/n out of here." He paused before adding. "Get us out of here. I'm ready to come home."

With a call for help sent out and no time to waste, he could only hope someone was listening as he left the room and put his plan into motion.

He didn't greet you or say a single word when he stepped back into your cell, grabbing your hands and holding them behind your back.

"Come here."

You yelped as you were jerked to your feet.

"Seonghwa? What's going on?" You panicked, wiggling in his hold.

"Be quiet." He hissed, shoving you out the door and down the cell block corridor, stormtroopers watching as he passed.

One of them blocked the way. "What are you doing with her?"

"We've obtained the information we need. She's of no use to us anymore." He responded coldly to the trooper's inquiry.

Every part of your body ran cold upon hearing that and you started writhing even more.

"No! No! Please don't do this!" You cried out.

"I said be quiet!" Seonghwa jerked you harshly before pushing you down the halls once more.

Your breathing was erratic, your hands cold and clammy. Were you really going to die by the hands of your old friend?

Not a single word was spoken while you were guided through the maze that was the First Order ship, awaiting your demise. You were brought to a room and shoved inside, Seonghwa releasing your wrists and caging you against the wall before you could even process it.

"You don't know what you're doing." You spoke shakily. "Please don't kill me. I—"

Seonghwa's lips pressed firmly against yours, effectively cutting off your sentence. A small noise left the back of your throat, your hands pressing against his chest as you fought to keep your eyes from fluttering shut.

He pulled away shortly with a heavy exhale and half-lidded eyes that gazed at you with longing.

"I love you too, Y/n."

Your heart leapt into your throat as he verbally returned your feelings.

"You're... you're not gonna kill me?"

"What? No." He shook his head. "That was just so I didn't raise any suspicions. We're getting out of here."

"We are?" You uttered so quietly you barely heard yourself.

"Yes. This isn't the life for me, Y/n. I miss the Resistance. I miss you. Maybe I was a weak Sith—or maybe my love for you was stronger than the hold of the Dark Side."

"Seonghwa." Taking the sides of his face, you pulled him to your lips, kissing him deeply, this time letting your eyelids slide shut while relishing in the warmth of his mouth.

When you pulled away, he had to blink himself out of the little daze he was in.

"Wow."

"We'd better get out of here alive." You said.

"We will. Just play along."

You nodded. "Got it."

He took your wrists and held them behind your back again to keep up the facade and led you out of the room, back into the ship's corridor. He didn't know how quickly a rescue team could get out there, but if no one had arrived by the time he made it to the hangar, Seonghwa would hijack a ship and get you both out himself.

Your eyes scanned the halls, attempting to look pitiful and helpless when passing stormtroopers or staff. On the inside, however, you were elated that Seonghwa returned your feelings and decided to return to Ajan Kloss with you. Though there was the lingering anxiety of needing to get out safely first. You were still in enemy territory—you both were.

The two of you rounded a corner, nearly running into a man with maroon hair that you didn't recognize, you and Seonghwa taking a few steps back. There was an intimidating  aura about the stranger that made you nervous just by looking at him. His eyes narrowed and he turned to your partner.

"This is the Jedi that snuck onto the ship. Why is she out of her cell, Mars? I didn't approve of this."

"We've got the information we need. I'm disposing of her."

You assumed this was the Hongjoong guy you'd been told about and was quick to lower your gaze to the floor, trying to appear non-threatening.

"And why would you dispose of her?"

As they exchanged words, Seonghwa could tell he wouldn't be able to pull this one off. Hongjoong was asking too many questions and wondering why Seonghwa was making decisions on his own without consulting him first.

You too were feeling as if things were about to go south and began worrying about how to defend yourself. It was at that moment you felt something cool being pressed into your palm that was behind your back. Your fingers curled around the object and realized it was a lightsaber—your lightsaber.

"What's really going on here?" Hongjoong inquired. "You've been odd since this little Jedi showed up." He regarded you with a curt jerk of his head, not bothering to look your way.

"I already told you, I'm disposing of her."

"See..." Hongjoong's hand imperceptibly inched towards his lightsaber at his hip. "I just don't think I believe you."

Your eyes widened and you were quick to reveal your lightsaber, activating the purple beam that hummed to life just as Hongjoong withdrew his own weapon. Seonghwa was holding out his lightsaber as well, ready to fight by your side.

"Ah." Sardonic amusement flickered across Hongjoong's features at the sight of his apprentice. "I see. You've switched sides."

Seonghwa's expression hardened and he pointed the end of his red lightsaber at the man. "I'm not afraid to fight you."

"Well you should be." Hongjoong spoke roughly before stepping forward and taking a swipe at both of you.

Leaping back, you two dodged his attack, retaliating with some of your own, both of you swinging your weapons at the Sith who was able to block every single one. You attempted to take a jab at him, but his red beam came up underneath your purple one and pushed it away, making you stumble at the physical force behind the action. He twisted his upper body and held his saber up to block an attack from Seonghwa that followed after yours.

It was clear this man was well-trained and even though he was outnumbered, he was managing to fight both you and Seonghwa without much of a struggle. Taking a step back to put some space between you and the enemy, you continued fighting back.

As soon as he saw an opening, Seonghwa took hold of your wrist. "Come on." He hissed urgently and tugged you down the ship's dim corridors in the opposite direction, fleeing the area.

"You're running away like a coward, Mars!" Hongjoong shouted after him.

"Where are we going?" You asked, pushing past a stormtrooper that stood in the way.

"Get them!" Hongjoong roared in the distance.

"Somewhere away from him." Seonghwa responded, keeping a tight hold on your wrist while guiding you through the steel and metal maze.

While your first priority was to survive, questions started piling up. Questions like: Would you survive? Would you even make it off the ship? Would you ever get back home?

"Here." You were snapped out of your daze by Seonghwa's voice as you were pulled into an open space, a grated walkway stretching across an endless canyon.

Unable to see the bottom of the foggy abyss below, your heart rate spiked.

"Hey, it's alright. Just stay close." Seonghwa gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, hurrying across the bridge. "We can still make it to the hangar from here."

"There you are."

You both froze at the sound of Hongjoong's voice, spinning around to face him as he approached with an intense and almost psychotic look in his sharp eyes.

"Stay back." Seonghwa was quick to push you behind him and rush forward to engage in battle with his ex mentor. You leaned against the railing of the grated walkway, looking on with wide eyes.

Seonghwa let out a grunt when Hongjoong's saber clashed with his, pushing against it. With clenched teeth and trembling hands, he shoved back and managed to get Hongjoong off of him. The Sith let out a low sound of disproval and swung once more, relentlessly attacking Seonghwa and giving him no time to fight back. All he could do was block and guard himself from the onslaught. You couldn't stand watching the battle persist without you. There was no telling how long Seonghwa could maintain his defenses until he was worn out. With no one to watch his back or help take the pressure off, you feared he wouldn't make it out of the fight unscathed.

"What happened? You used to beat me all the time during our practice battles." Hongjoong talked down to Seonghwa in a derisive tone.

The ex Sith let out a low noise from the back of his throat while taking a swing at the redhead who merely leaned back to avoid the humming beam of light.

"You're weakened already." He remarked snidely. "Do you really want to go back to being a spineless Jedi?"

Instead of responding, Seonghwa narrowed his eyes and took another swing at Hongjoong only for him to dodge again.

"You belong here."

"I don't!" He snapped. "I never did."

"I took you in."

"You took advantage of me!"

"And you became a powerful Sith because of it. So you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" Scoffed Seonghwa. "For what? Turning me into an evil monster?"

Hongjoong let out a huff of amusement. "For showing you your true potential, Mars. So tell me, are you with me or against me?"

"My name is Seonghwa." He grit out through his teeth.

"Very well. Chitchat is over." Hongjoong used his foot to kick Seonghwa back, his body colliding with the steel flooring of the bridge. A grunt was forced out of him, his deactivated lightsaber now lying by Hongjoong's foot.

"You don't need this anymore." He said, kicking the weapon off the side of the walkway and into the abyss below.

"No. Stop!" You shouted, rushing towards the two, unable to stand by any longer. You didn't care if Seonghwa told you to stay back, he needed your help.

Hongjoong held up his free hand, a powerful force pushing you back so vigorously you were sent through the air. You yelped, landing roughly on the grates as your lightsaber skidded across the platform. The breath was knocked out of you during impact, your throat and lungs attempting to work correctly again while you gasped for air.

"This is what happens when you betray me, Mars." Hongjoong spoke in an eery singsong voice.

Your eyes widened as he moved to stand over Seonghwa, lightsaber positioned and ready to strike. A sudden burst of energy and determination hit you as well as a wave of burning hatred towards the maroon-haired Sith, fueling your need to protect Seonghwa.

Your hand shot out towards your deactivated weapon, wheezing and coughing as you focused your energy. The saber shot from its position at the edge of the bridge and straight into your palm. Gripping the hilt of the lightsaber, you got to your feet and rushed over.

"This is the end for you." Hongjoong reared back and went to swing his glowing blade down on Seonghwa. As he did so, your purple beam was thrust forward, blocking his before it could even get close to doing any damage.

"What?" Hongjoong hissed out, his eyes drifting up to meet yours that burned with rage.

"I don't think so." You spoke lowly, pushing upwards and using your lightsaber to shove his away.

Seonghwa stared up at you in both shock and awe, using the opportunity to scramble back out of the crossfire as you went after Hongjoong with vigor.

"Do. Not. Come. Near. Him." You spat out between attacks, punctuating your words with each clash of your blades.

"Oh. Well, this is certainly interesting." Hongjoong chuckled over the sounds of battle.

Your lightsabers made that familiar electric sound as they collided, swinging in every direction possible. Any time you saw an opening, you went for it, even if Hongjoong blocked. There was no pattern to your attacks, just endless swipes and vicious swings.

"You took him away from me!" You raged, slinging your lightsaber at him while he struggled to fight back. "Three years!"

He stumbled while trying to back away, blocking your relentless hits.

A flicker of panic flashed across Hongjoong's face as you continued to shout at him and deliver swing after swing. Up until that point, he had defended himself and didn't show an ounce of fear. Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to go into a blind rage, but seeing him preparing to end Seonghwa's life kicked you into gear.

Your saber came at him from the side, which he deflected, but you didn't care, redirecting and taking a different approach. He hissed when you managed to swipe at his arm, tearing the fabric of his sleeve and slicing his skin underneath.

"Look at you trying to defend your boyfriend. Such mindless violence. You would've made a good Sith." Hongjoong grunted out while trying to provoke you despite the fact that you clearly had the upper hand.

"Shut up." You grit out, slinging the purple beam you wielded at his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, pressing his free hand to his calf where the fresh cut was.

"I'm impressed." He panted heavily, looking up at you. "You're putting up quite the fight."

He tightened his hold on his lightsaber as your eyes narrowed. The humming beam in his grip came barreling towards you, making you jump back. He gave you no time to retaliate, coming at you again. At the last second, you held your hand out, fingers outstretched as his weapon came to a stop in midair just a few inches from you. The heat radiating from the blazing light brushed your palm, but it wasn't enough to deter you. Hongjoong's cocky expression fell, his eyes darting between you and your hand which was keeping his lightsaber in place. He pushed down, trying to complete his action, his brows pulling together at the effort and exertion. Your hardened gaze stayed locked on the Sith as you moved your open hand forward, forcing the beam further away until you pushed it aside. He stumbled back, releasing a low guttural sound from the back of his throat.

"Not bad... for a Jedi."

Your jaw tightened at his backhanded comment. "You talk too much."

Blinded by anger, your free hand shot out, using the Force to launch him backwards across the bridge and all the way into the halls of the ship where he landed harshly against a wall. He winced upon impact, sliding down and crumpling on the floor in a heap.

The adrenaline coursing through you slowly started to wear off, your shoulders heaving up and down with each breath.

"I thought Jedi didn't Force choke?" Seonghwa asked amusedly from behind you while getting to his feet, referring back to something you said to him years ago.

"That was a Force push. There's a difference." You remarked with a small grin, deactivating your lightsaber and sliding it into its holster.

"That was... kinda hot."

You turned to him as he came to stand by your side, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. "Was it?"

"It was." He confirmed, taking your hand. "Now let's get out of here."

The both of you hurried across the grated walkway and past Hongjoong's unconscious form, heading back the way you came, your footsteps thumping against the metal floors.

"Hongjoong ordered a fleet of ships to Takodana." Seonghwa mentioned while you moved down the halls. "There won't be as many reinforcements here, so we should be able to make it to the hangar without too much trouble."

"Takodana?" You echoed confusedly.

"I told him that's where the Resistance base was."

A fluttery feeling blossomed in your chest. He lied to his mentor to protect the Resistance members.

"Thank you."

He gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand. "You're welcome."

After turning a corner, you were met with a cluster of stormtroopers that jumped into action and began blasting at both of you the moment you were spotted.

Seonghwa grabbed you, tugging you around the corner and out of the line of fire.

"Well, this is a problem." You breathed out heavily. "We're outnumbered and you don't have a weapon."

"Yeah. Though we might be able to make it if we make a run for it and do our best to dodge. Their aim is horrible anyway."

"Not if we're close enough to shoot." You pointed out.

While you and Seonghwa were strategizing, the thud of something heavy falling to the floor came from where the stormtroopers were, followed by another thud and another. Preceding each thump was the sound of a blaster of some sort, but it was different than that of a trooper. The rap of footsteps heading your way made you both tense up and prepare to defend yourselves until a familiar face rounded the corner.

"Someone call a rescue team?" Han Solo asked with a grin.

"Han." You let out a mix between a laugh and a sigh of relief. "How did you know we needed help?"

"Seonghwa told us using one of the listening devices you planted."

"You heard me?" He asked, relieved that his call for help didn't fall on deaf ears.

"We were listening the whole time. We had a team of Resistance members monitoring the audio at all times." Han responded. "Now let's get you two outta here."

He beckoned you both forward, bringing you around the corner to find stormtroopers scattered about on the floor, each of them sporting one or more holes in their chests, their armor marred by burn marks.

"You took them all out by yourself?" You asked, stepping over one of the bodies.

"I've had lots of practice, kid." Han responded, moving on down the corridor.

The three of you jogged through the halls, proceeding quickly while sweeping the area. Your escape wasn't an easy one as more stormtroopers came up from the opposite direction, blocking the way.

"Stop right there!" One of them shouted, holding his blaster.

Han Solo pointed his own gun at the group of armor-clad troopers while you activated your lightsaber again. When they saw you were going to put up a fight, an onslaught of red plasma blasts blurred past. You moved in, ducking and dodging shots while taking a swing at the nearest stormtrooper's legs. He shouted in pain and fell to the ground, giving Han an opportunity to take him down while he was vulnerable.

Seonghwa, weaponless, used his Force abilities to push away the troopers that got too close, shoving them into one another. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to stop them.

"Hey, kid!" Han Solo called out to Seonghwa. "Thought you might need this so I brought it just in case." His glossy chrome lightsaber was tossed over. "Found it in Y/n's room."

Seonghwa's eyes widened, looking at you with surprise. You were about to ask Han why he was even in your room to start with, but Seonghwa spoke before you could.

"You kept my lightsaber in your room?"

Your cheeks were set aflame at his question before you shot one back at him without thinking. "Where were you keeping mine, huh?"

Now it was Seonghwa's turn to become flustered, his ears turning red.

Oh.

"Now's not the time for all this." Han spoke gruffly, using his blaster to hit a stormtrooper.

"Sorry." You and Seonghwa spoke in unison, his blue lightsaber activating.

A smile that couldn't be suppressed no matter how hard you tried spread across your face, a wave of nostalgia and joy filling you at the sight of him. It was just like old times.

Seonghwa lunged forward with a shout, you following behind with renewed vigor as you both went at the stormtroopers, knocking their blasters out of their hands and swinging your sabers, slicing through their armor easily. Any troopers you or Seonghwa didn't get were swiftly shot down by Han.

"I think that's all of them." You huffed out.

"Well then let's get out of here before more show up." Han Solo nodded with his head, urging you and Seonghwa forward.

Much to your relief, the three of you made it to the hangar where thankfully no stormtroopers were lingering about. Your feet moved faster, following behind Han to the opening of the hangar, looking around for his ship.

"Where's—"

His loud whistling cut you off as he waved his arm in the air, signaling something out in space. Seconds later, the Millennium Falcon came flying around the back of the First Order vessel.

"Step back." Han ordered as the Falcon eased into the hangar, the loading ramp extending from the bottom. "Come on, come on." He ushered you and Seonghwa up into the ship where you both followed him to the cockpit where Chewie was manning the controls.

Chewbacca stood up so Han could take his place, a joyous noise leaving him when he saw Seonghwa standing there beside you. He was immediately pulled into a big hug by the Wookie who was elated at the long-awaited reunion.

"I missed you too." Seonghwa chuckled, patting Chewbacca's back.

You too were pulled into a tight embrace, laughter bubbling up out of you.

"It's good to see you, big guy." You told Chewie, pulling away.

"Alright everyone, buckle up and hold tight. We're getting the heck outta here." Han Solo said.

Seonghwa's return to Ajan Kloss was a momentous occasion; he was welcomed back with open arms and firm handshakes, but not from Leia. From Leia, he received a suffocatingly tight hug.

"We're happy to have you back." She murmured tearfully, smiling up at Seonghwa. "And thank you for your distress call. Han insisted on being the one to bring you two back."

"Really?" You asked.

"Yes. We were getting a rescue plan together but it wasn't ready to be executed. As soon as we heard the call for help, Han started prepping to leave right away."

"Y/n, you're alive!"

You turned to see Poe walking over with Finn following behind.

"No thanks to you." You teased, giving him a hug.

"Hey now, I came right back here and told everyone you'd been captured." He defended lightheartedly, his eyes drifting to your friend standing beside you. "Ah. You must be Seonghwa! This girl right here talks about you nonstop. I wish I knew where Seonghwa was. I hope Seonghwa comes back. You would've liked Seonghwa. I hope we find—"

"Okay." Finn came up, chuckling awkwardly and grabbing Poe by the shoulders, slowly pulling him away. "That's enough out of you."

To celebrate your rescue and Seonghwa's return, the droids and cooks prepared a massive meal for the camp. The both of you stuck around the tent for a while to chat with Resistance members before deciding to go off somewhere for a little privacy. And that place was atop the Millennium Falcon.

"I missed the food here." You sighed fondly, rubbing your stomach. "The meals I was given on the First Order ship weren't great... no offense."

"None taken." Chuckled Seonghwa. "It was subpar at best. Even when I was a Sith I missed the food here."

You laughed softly, gazing up at the stars like you'd done years ago, seated with your legs crossed. When you turned back, Seonghwa was looking at you and had leaned in closer.

"This is nice." He murmured softly.

"What is?"

"Being up here with you."

Fighting back a smile, you responded. "And why's that?"

"Because I can finally give you a proper kiss."

He leaned in and placed his lips gently on yours, tentatively at first. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment now that you were both home and safe. His hand slid around to cup the nape of your neck, guiding you to lie back while his lips slowly danced over yours, making you melt. Once you laid down, he leaned over you and depended the kiss by tilting his head and picking up the pace. A mix between a soft sigh and a hum left you, your hands moving up to run through his long locks.

"I love your hair like this." You murmured against his lips.

"Yeah? You like it longer?"

"I do." You brushed your digits through it, making his eyelids flutter, a low noise leaving him before he dove back in for a passionate kiss that took your breath away. His hand that wasn't cradling the nape of your neck slid down your side to feel your curves through the fabric of your gray tunic.

Your fingers gripped at his inky hair, making him groan against your mouth, sending a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. His pillowy lips captured your bottom one, surrounding it in warmth before he encompassed your mouth wholly with his and making your head spin in the process.

When he pulled away, you were both panting shallowly, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes that were glazed over with adoration and longing for one another. It was a picture perfect moment; you and the man you loved lying under the stars together, reunited at last.

"I love you." Seonghwa murmured reverently, caressing your cheek tenderly with his thumb as you both gazed at one another lovingly.

You smiled softly at him before responding, "I know."

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny @iammeandmeisiam @delulu18

[charmwasjess]

Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma. 

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life. 

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender. 

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective. 

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post. 

[mickandmusings]

feelings are fatal

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x senator!f!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: obi-wan has sworn to the life of the jedi, a life of service: no selfish acts, no materialistic wants, and most importantly, no attachments. he’s held on to these values in even the most trying of times, but when the senator he’s sworn to protect is injured during a battle, will he be able to manage his feelings?

based off this request! (I'm a little rusty on my star wars writings, but i'm working on it! I hope you love it! <3)

warnings: angst fluff, an overused senator x jedi trope, description of fighting, injury (nothing gory)

-

Blaster fire sounded in nearly every direction Obi-Wan turned. His lightsaber was ignited, washing him in a blue light. Obi-Wan was focused on dodging blaster fire with the blade, keeping himself protected, but he was more worried about the others in the room. Sure, the room was filled with a few other Jedi-he could sense Anakin's presence on the other side of the room, Ahsoka just to his left, both of their lightsabers could be heard deflecting shots of their own. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how this fight had started, or why, but he was determined to get everyone he cared about out of it: Anakin and Ahsoka, of course, but also Y/N-the Senator that had been put under his protection for nearly a full cycle. He found her presence in the force immediately, just to the other side of the room of Anakin, her own blaster drawn and firing. He found himself wanting to get to her first, and quickly.

"Senator!" Ahsoka's voice sounded over the noise, obviously directed at Y/N. "Get down!"

Obi-Wan deflected another shot, his sapphire eyes finding Y/N amongst the crowd of enemy and ally alike, her frame ducking down as Ahsoka had ordered. She was seemingly quick enough to dodge the blaster fire shot, but not without getting grazed, hissing as it burned her skin. She let down her guard as she looked at the injury, blaster shots hurling in her direction. Obi-Wan nearly lost all of his internal merits, swinging his blade wildly through blaster fire in an attempt to make his way to her. She spots him running towards her, her own eyebrows furrowing as she aimed and shot her blaster.

"Kenobi! What are you doing?! Get back with Anakin and Ahsoka!"

"You've been shot!"

Y/N's face was stern.

"I wasn't shot, I was grazed, I'm fine! Get these...things! Whatever they are get them out so we can get back! I'm fine, Obi, go!"

She was lying, Obi-Wan knew this immediately. Obi-Wan quickly notes the desperation in her eyes before making his way through the army of droids shooting at different positions in the room. The fight doesn't last long-with the teamwork of Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka paired with Y/N's impressive blaster skills, the group of them were back on a ship within minutes, making their way towards safety. The two latter Jedi sat in the ship's seats, navigating their way off the planet in tandem. Obi-Wan's focus was elsewhere, predominantly on a certain Senator sitting in the back hull of their ship. Wordlessly, Anakin made eye contact with him, nodding his head as if to say 'I've got this covered, go talk to her.'

Obi-Wan wasted no time making his way back to her, searching all over the ship for her figure, not finding her out and about the open space. That's when he heard her-a resounding painful hiss and a choked sob from behind the fresher door. Obi-Wan sighed, she had obviously been injured more gravely than she had let on. He knocked on the door lightly with a bruised fist, listening for her voice to call back to him. Her voice came out almost a whisper, obviously mutilated with pain.

"Y-Yes?"

Obi-Wan felt his heart race, slowly making his chest feel tight.

"It's me, can I come in?"

On the other side of the door, Y/N sat on the floor of the fresher, the layers of her clothing peeled off and tossed aside as she attempted to clean the burns on her arms and torso. The pain was immeasurable, something she hadn't experienced before. She knew she would need help dressing her wounds carefully, she wouldn't be able to apply the bacta spray alone. As she pressed her head against the wall, dizziness taking over, her only wish is that it would have been Ahsoka on the other side of the door. Obi-Wan's looks of disappointment and his calloused hands on her aching skin would provide her with emotional discomfort severe enough to compare to her physical pain. With a ridiculous amount of effort, she reaches up to press the button to open the door, hastily wiping tears from her eyes in the desperate hope that Obi-Wan won't notice.

He takes in her state immediately-her red-rimmed eyes from crying, her face reddening. Obi-Wan would have blushed and turned his eyes away at the sight of her nearly bare torso if it were not for the flaring blaster wound on her stomach. His eyes darted to her arm, where the graze still sat, needing to be cleaned. Obi-Wan's eyes were sympathetic.

"Y/N," his voice is quiet and low, albeit panicked. "You're hurt, you did get shot."

Y/N chuckled softly, then winced at the pain it caused. She looked up at Obi-Wan with teary eyes.

"Patch me up, Obi?" Her voice was shaky but laced with humor, kicking the med kit towards him with her foot. He sat down next to her on the floor, crouched over the med kit to find what he needed to treat her wounds. He gathered them wordlessly, spraying bacta on the open flesh. Her breath hitched, causing his eyes to meet hers to make sure she was okay. Between the stinging pain and the fireworks that erupted in her chest everytime Obi-Wan touched her, she wasn’t sure if she was breathing properly. She nodded and let him continue, watching as he finished with the spray and picked up the packet of bandages.

"This is a change isn't it? You're bandaging me up instead of the other way around." She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Obi-Wan nodded, lifting an accusing eyebrows as he spoke.

"You terrified me today, I thought you'd been hurt-and you had. You just didn't want me to know. Why?"

Y/N shifts her eyes away from him, biting her lip in an anxious manner before she speaks.

"You-You would've dropped everything to make sure I was okay. And while I appreciate the gesture, Anakin and Ahsoka couldn't have held them off alone. There were too many of them. Someone could have gotten hurt."

"Someone did get hurt, Y/N! You!" Obi-Wan's voice was sharp, but obviously laced with concern. Y/N's eyes go back to her lap, feeling as if he had chastised her like a child. Obi-Wan knew his attachment to the Senator, and his anger as a result of it, were both properties frowned upon by the Jedi Council, but he could not stop it.

"Obi?" Obi-Wan looks up at her as he closes her bandage off, making sure all of her wounds have been covered. Her eyes look at him, full of something he couldn't quite place. "A-Are you angry with me?"

Obi-Wan looks at her, his hand coming gentle-and shakily-to the side of her face. He had never held her like this, it felt, tender, intimate-forbidden. Despite the nagging voice in the back of his head saying this was wrong, he kept his hand on her face as he spoke.

"N-No, I am not angry with you, Y/N/N. Furthest from it, I am-I am angry with myself."

"Why? You have done nothing wrong, I was the one who got hurt in the crossfire, you couldn't have done-"

"I am not angry with myself about the fight, well, that's not the forefront issue. I am fighting feelings within myself that I cannot control, and even though I know it is wrong, my entire soul burns to give into them."

Y/N is rendered speechless. Surely he is not talking about...her? The Jedi Code forbade that sort of attachment. Obi-Wan would not throw all of this, his entire life, Anakin, Ahsoka-

"I love you."

Y/N's heart stops. She had to have been imagining this. She concluded she was-she was dreaming in her apartment on Coruscant, or, more likely, she was having a dying dream, she had been shot and killed during the fight.

“I-If you don’t feel the same way, I understand. I could not live with that burden on my chest, never getting to say that to you-“

Y/N looks up at him sheepishly, almost unsure if she believes him.

“Obi-Wan, are you certain? Your code, the Jedi-“

“I have never been more certain of anything. I knew when I took my oath that upholding it would be…difficult at the least. But I-I never expected to feel the way I do about you. You…Y/N I would give up galaxies for you. You, you mean everything.”

Y/N's heart soared, Obi-Wan's eyes staring at her as if she had placed the stars in the sky herself, as if she were some goddess. She knew every word he said was true, and in her heart, she knew she felt the same way, any oath or rule be damned.

"This will not be easy, Obi, we will have to hide-"

Obi-Wan cut her off, cupping her face with both hands to gaze into her eyes.

"I know, I won't deny it and say everything will go as smoothly as if we were regular citizens. But I cannot live with the regret of not knowing what it is like to be loved by you."

Y/N smiles broadly, her eyes watering as Obi-Wan closes the gap between the two, only pulling away when the need to breathe arose. Y/N chuckled as she rested her head against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Who knows, maybe after this war is over, you and I can be-" She tried to think of the most outrageous yet splendidly simple life she could think of. "We can be moisture farmers on Tatooine! No hiding, just, a normal couple."

Obi-Wan's heart ached a little at her optimism, his subconscious telling him no matter the outcome of this war, they'd always end up hiding. He simply smiled and pulled her in again, enjoying the splendor of her warm touch.

-

Back in the cockpit, Anakin and Ahsoka sat in relative silence, watching space pass them by. Some time had passed since Obi-Wan left to check on Y/N. Ahsoka looked over at her Master as she spoke:

"Should I go check on Master Kenobi and Senator Y/N? They've been back there for a while."

Anakin felt his cheeks heat up, already knowing with an almost definite suspicion that Obi-Wan hadn't escaped to the hull of the ship with the pure intentions of aiding the Senator with her wounds. Obi-Wan was a righteous man, a great leader, but he was human, too. He shuddered at what could possibly be happening before responding.

"Snips, I promise you don't want to go back there."

-

[shesnake]

to be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand The Acolyte. The message is extremely Jedi-critical, and without a solid grasp of basic sixth grade colonial history and the ability to recognise the obvious similarities between Osha Aniseya and Anakin Skywalker's origin stories, most of the parallels will go over a typical viewer's head. There is also Qimir's nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his and the Aniseya twins' characterisation - their personal philosophies draw heavily from the prequels and its criticism of the jedi order's entitlement to the power of the force, institutionalised repression of identity and policing of marginalised non-conformity, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depth of these lightsaber battles, to realise that they're not just an excuse to get Manny Jacinto's biceps out- they say something deep about LIFE. As a consequence people who dislike The Acolyte truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, that Qimir's villain speech about wanting freedom from the jedi because they think he shouldn't exist being inspired by Leslye Headland's frustrations as a openly lesbian filmmaker, or the truth in Mother Aniseya's cautionary last words "Someday, those noble intentions you all have will destroy every Jedi in the galaxy", which itself is a blatant reference to the oncoming tragedy of Anakin Skywalker who, like Osha the Acolyte, was taken from his family by the Jedi as a child who was already too old to forget the profound loss and trauma of their previous lives, was deemed unfit to become a true jedi for experiencing basic human emotions like grief exacerbated by abuse at their very hands and was subsequently radicalised to become sith I'm smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons who feel entitled to their nostalgia being constantly regurgitated back to them by disney scratching their heads in confusion as Leslye Headland's genius unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools… how I pity them. 😂 And yes by the way, I DO have an Acolyte tat--

[thegreatwicked]

Padawan

Padawan

May I proudly present....! My first reader insert, I wrote this for all you lovelies who follow/like/reblog/comment on my stuff. This is for you! Obi-Wan/You/Reader Insert. Master/Padawan, SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. That is all. Or is it? Should I write more???

Summary: After disappearing from your Master for thirteen years, the Clone Wars has brought you back to the same planet and a brush with death back into each other's lives. But you’re not his Padawan anymore, you’re a knight, right? No, you’ll always be his Padawan, and he, your Master.

~~~

He wasn't a fool; he had sensed your presence the moment you set foot on the planet, like a blinding light or the ring of a bell only he could hear. Of course, he could feel you—how could he not? At least, he could feel you for a while, long enough for him to be certain that he didn’t imagine it in a post-battle haze. You were here.

The first time your force signature vanished, his heart skipped a beat, and a cold rush of panic coursed through his veins and a horrible cold weight settled in his stomach, making him feel like he may be sick. Determined and distracted, he abandoned his conversation in a mad sprint. Searching. He tracked down anyone who had been alongside you on the battlefield, questioning them relentlessly, not caring how he came off as slightly unhinged as opposed to his normal calm and stoic manner, but each inquiry was met with disappointment and vacant glances. 

It wasn't until he caught sight of the familiar sight of a blue and white lekku of Ahsoka that a glimmer of hope ignited within him, brighter than any lightsaber. Ahsoka, Anakin’s padawan. She was seemingly unaffected and greeted him with a smile as though she were seeing a dear friend or distant relative, and that in itself was calming. If Ahsoka wasn't distressed, it meant one of two things: either she hadn't heard of your demise, or, more optimistically, you were still alive.

A wave of relief washed over Obi-Wan as Ahsoka confirmed that you were indeed unharmed and engaged in another mission, your paths had briefly crossed long enough for friendly banter involving drinks later. You were not only alive but also hailed as a hero. Your proficiency with the light your orange, lightsaber had garnered admiration, and the news of your success spread across the battlefield.

As he processed this new information, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the questions that haunted him since the day you disappeared, thirteen years ago. What happened? Where had you been? Why had you left without a word? 

Had he been too strict, too distant? He paced in his quarters, the weight of uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. Thirteen years of silence, and now he learned you were not only alive but thriving in the chaos of war. Had he been oblivious to your struggles and triumphs as a padawan? Had he overlooked something crucial?

His distress and confusion fueled his determination to find you, to understand the reasons behind your disappearance. The bond between Padawan and Master was meant to endure, but his had been severed without warning or explanation. The quest for answers became a relentless pursuit, driven by a mix of concern, guilt, and an unyielding desire to reconnect with the one he had lost.

Ilum's gift had bestowed upon you a most unique kyber crystal, weaving the essence of the Force into your arsenal—a radiant burnt orange lightsaber. Obi-Wan swelled with pride, recognizing that your exceptional skills not only ensured your safety but also turned the tide amid battle.

Sharing the tale with Ahsoka, Obi-Wan recounted the moments of uncertainty, the fear that gripped him when the disturbance in the Force signaled potential danger. Ahsoka responded with a knowing smile and a playful eye roll, acknowledging your tendency to dive headfirst into peril and emerge victorious as if it was the only possible outcome. Relief washed over Obi-Wan, mirrored by a grateful grin exchanged with Ahsoka, reassured that you navigated the challenges in your own distinctive way.

“She’s gotten quite good at cloaking, hasn’t she?” And with those words, all his nervous energy fell away.

The reality settled, Obi-Wan marveled at the intricacy of your Force signature concealment. Your mastery of the technique was so impeccable that it eluded even his well-honed Jedi senses. In moments of deep meditation, he attempted to reach out, seeking the familiar touch of your intangible presence, only to encounter a mysterious void. Your cloak, flawlessly executed, had transformed you into a Ghost—a moniker that, suddenly, filled him with pride for your evolving abilities.

Days melted into an endless procession of battles, the smoke of war shrouding the fates of those who entered its domain. Unable to locate you through the Force, Obi-Wan sought solace in updates from Ahsoka and the soldiers who served under your command, the Echo Squadron they were called. 'The Ghost,' a symbol of your evasive prowess, deepened his admiration for the padawan who had become an elusive figure amid the chaos of war.

Despite the promising news, Obi-Wan Kenobi's frustration deepened. Thirteen years had passed since he last saw you, his once-promising Padawan and the silence surrounding your disappearance gnawed at him. Pacing his quarters, he questioned the events that had led to this point. You had excelled in your Jedi trials, proving yourself worthy of knighthood, and yet, without a word, you vanished from his life.

The lack of closure weighed heavily on him. Had he failed you as a master? The memories of your training together, the countless missions you undertook side by side, haunted him. Had he missed something? Obi-Wan couldn't fathom why you chose to sever ties so abruptly and so completely. The bond between a Padawan and a master was meant to transcend time and distance even the Force itself.

His mind danced through potential reasons. Perhaps he had been too stern, too demanding, but he couldn't recall any unresolved conflicts or bitter disagreements. It fueled his restless pacing, so much he thought he might wear a hole in the floor. The war had claimed many, and the unpredictability of life in those times made such disappearances common. Yet, the absence of a farewell, a simple goodbye, perplexed him.

Obi-Wan stopped, staring at the transmission device on his desk. He contemplated reaching out through the Force, attempting to sense your presence, but a lingering doubt held him back. If you wished to remain hidden, he knew the Force would not easily reveal your location.

With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that he needed answers. The Jedi Master reluctantly accepted that, without your cooperation, he might never unravel the mystery of your departure. The internal conflict played across his features as he grappled with the uncertainty, the pain of an unanswered question tugging at his Jedi calm. ~~~

 Obi-Wan flickered back into his senses, and he’d had enough, your Force signature, elusive and soft, presented a challenge to pinpoint. Yet, now seemed as opportune a moment as any to seek you out. He anticipated that the moment he reached out, you would sense it, and the possibility lingered that you might vanish as swiftly as you'd appeared. Despite the odds, he had to try.

For days, throughout his search, panic clawed at him as your signature exhibited erratic behavior—flickering, softening, going dim and occasionally blazing intensely. Unsettled, he worried about your well-being. Had something happened with your men or yourself? When news of Echo Squadron’s return came across his com, he decided on a more direct approach. The uncertainty fueled his urgency as he raced through the compound's halls, drawing closer to potential answers.

The revelations unfolded when the heavy blast doors swung open, and a chill gripped Obi-Wan's heart revealing a fractured company of clone troopers stumbling in, wearied from the throes of war.

Amidst the chaos, Obi-Wan's voice cut through the clamor, a determined command in battle's aftermath. 

"You! Where is your Commander?" he bellowed to the nearest trooper. The man, a walking testament to the horrors he'd witnessed, appeared as if he had traversed through realms of death and fire. His gaze held the weight of someone who had glimpsed into the abyss, far beyond the immediate surroundings.

Obi-Wan called to the trooper, attempting to shake him from his trance, but it was evident that shock had claimed the soldier, rendering him useless for any immediate assistance. A surge of frustration gripped Obi-Wan, that familiar icy sensation taking root within him, he could stand it no more. 

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of combat. Heads turned in response, and a battle-worn trooper, fatigue etched on his face, stepped forward.

"General Kenobi," the trooper addressed him with a weary acknowledgment, capturing Obi-Wan's attention. With practiced discipline, the trooper began to relay the grim news that had been haunting his thoughts.

A surprise attack, swift and ruthless, caught the entire company off guard, unleashing chaos and claiming numerous lives. Amidst the chaos, your unwavering courage emerged as the linchpin that prevented even greater losses. The trooper, his voice tinged with awe, spoke your name with a reverence that echoed through the hushed murmurs of your fellow soldiers. Their expressions carried profound respect, acknowledging the pivotal role you played in turning the tide of the ambush.

The trooper went on to reveal a tale of resilience and determination. The men who managed to return from the battleground owed their lives to you. Your strategic prowess, coupled with an indomitable will, had become the catalyst for the survival of those under your command. The atmosphere grew heavy with gratitude and admiration as the trooper unfolded the narrative, and the unspoken bond between soldiers resonated with the unyielding spirit that defined your leadership.

“Injured?” Obi-wan breathed not wanting to believe it, “How badly?”

The trooper wore a solemn look before explaining; three. You had been hit by three blaster bolts and thrown back in an explosion that you had only barely managed to contain with your force shield, Obi-wan felt as though the breath had been punched out of his lungs. Murmurs of agreement sounded with troopers calling you a hero, and they would go into battle with you any day. 

The trooper initiated the playback of the security holo, and the room was enveloped in the eerie glow of the holographic display. The flickering images revealed a chaotic battlefield, where your orange lightsaber danced in a brilliant display of skill, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting through the air. The scene, however, took a grim turn as the explosion unfolded.

The trooper's narration painted a vivid picture of your unwavering determination. Your face, illuminated by the glow of the lightsaber, displayed a fierce concentration as you called upon the Force. The protective barrier you conjured was a testament to the immense power you harnessed. Smoke, flames, and debris relentlessly assaulted the shield, crashing against it with an intensity that seemed insurmountable.

As the holographic depiction continued, the strain on your shield became evident. Each impact pushed you back, a slow and relentless retreat under the overwhelming assault. The trooper's commentary reflected the increasing tension in the room, capturing the collective breaths held by those witnessing the event. Finally, with a heart-wrenching collapse, the protective barrier gave way, and your motionless form was violently thrown backward by the force of the explosion, resembling a discarded puppet.

The disturbing imagery etched itself into the minds of those present, leaving a haunting impression of the sacrifice you had made for your comrades. The room fell silent as the holographic display faded, and the gravity of the moment lingered in the air.

“Where is she?” Obi-Wan’s voice a hoarse whisper.

The troopers exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions shifting from a state of surprise to one of guarded curiosity. Why did General Kenobi, the renowned Jedi leader, express such concern about the whereabouts of a single Jedi, especially one who hadn't reported directly to him? The very nature of Jedi loyalty was well-known, but this level of interest seemed unusual, especially considering General Kenobi had never spoken your name and had no prior connection with your company.

In the austere world of warrior monks, emotional attachments were often deemed a distraction, a sentiment echoed by the Jedi Code. The troopers, accustomed to the stoic and disciplined demeanor of their Jedi commanders, found it perplexing that General Kenobi, known for his wisdom and strategic brilliance, was showing a level of personal investment that transcended the typical chain of command.

As the trooper spoke, the realization hit Obi-Wan like a sudden gust of cold wind. The men, once indifferent, now wore expressions of awe and respect. He had been the mentor to their leader, the padawan of the legendary General Kenobi, and none of them had been aware. It was a revelation that changed the dynamics within the group.

“I apologize, General Kenobi, we didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan's confusion deepened. How was it possible that you had never spoken of your training under him? He couldn't fathom why you would erase any mention of your master, especially considering the strong bonds that typically formed between Jedi and their mentors.

“What do you mean? Has she never spoken of it?”

The trooper shook his head solemnly. His name had never left your lips. There was no connection with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and your silence regarding your master left him perplexed and troubled. What had transpired to make you erase the very existence of your training and relationship with him from your history? It was a mystery that left him with an unsettling sense of guilt and regret.

Dread settled over Obi-Wan as the clone recounted the events in the medical wing. The last remnants of the company had made it back, battered and bruised, their fallen comrades in tow. However, you were conspicuously absent, having been transported to the medical wing for intensive care due to the injuries you sustained. Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan set his sights on the medical facilities.

In his urgency to find you, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the bustling corridors, barely sparing a glance for those he unintentionally bumped into. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical machinery. The chaos within the medical wing mirrored the turmoil in Obi-Wan's mind as he scanned the rows of occupied beds and the busy healers tending to the wounded.

He sought your name among the patients but found no trace. Panic tightened its grip on him, as each unoccupied bed intensified his worry. In the organized chaos, Obi-Wan grappled with the fear that he might be too late, that he had lost you in the vast sea of casualties.

"She’s alright. She was moved out of intensive treatment yesterday; she’s recuperating in private quarters on deck five."

Obi-wan's tension eased at Ahsoka's reassurance. The weight that had settled on his shoulders lifted as he absorbed the news. Ahsoka's brief but impactful update became a lifeline, giving him direction in the chaos. Gratitude filled his eyes as he nodded, silently expressing his thanks. The urgency to find you intensified, but now armed with information, he promptly set off towards the turbo-lift, leaving Ahsoka with the unspoken promise that he would find you.

Inside the lift, the monotonous hum did little to alleviate his restlessness, in fact, it made them worse. The usually swift elevators felt unusually slow on this particular day, and he entertained the thought that taking the stairs might have been a faster option. As he impatiently waited unconsciously tapping his boot, the seconds felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened on the desired floor, he bolted out, the urgency in his steps reflecting as he raced down the corridor. This was the most cardio he’d had in days. His eyes darted around erratically, scanning the room names, and he eventually found yours. 

Adorned next to the door like a beacon, and with a mix of hope and trepidation, he pressed the call button, but only silence answered back. He pushed it again. Then again. And each time the ominous silence was his only response. Mad with anxiety he pushed to override the security lock, a move usually foreign to his respectful nature. 

The door slid open, and his heart stilled, there you were on a sofa bathed in daylight from the small window close to the ceiling. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting; his heart remained uneasy and it would until he saw some indication that you were truly alive. Striding purposefully, he crossed the room, the force signature around you echoing your weakened condition like a medical monitoring device would communicate a pulse or heartbeat.

The aftermath of battle left its gritty mark across your features—bacta patches firmly affixed your shoulder and upper arm worked to make you whole though the tendrils of bruising could be seen around the borders. The marks on your skin were like a gritty painting, telling the vivid story of explosions, blaster fire, and flying debris. Scratches added rough brushstrokes to your face, tracing the chaotic path of the battlefield. Minor burns left fiery imprints on your neck, marking close encounters with searing heat. Bruises, like somber echoes, formed a mosaic on your arms and hands, narrating the intense dance with projectile-like debris. 

Despite this, you lay in peaceful repose on your side, facing him, eyes closed in sleep; an elusive serenity amidst the chaos of war. Your head was cradled in your arms, one leg casually folded beneath you while the other stretched out, a blanket loosely entwined around your legs and gathered at your waist. As he crouched down to study you, he sought the familiar essence of the padawan he remembered. The passing of thirteen years had left its mark in the longer strands of hair and the refined, soft features that shaped you into a woman, a stark departure from the Padawan he once guided. No longer bound by the apprentice title, you had evolved into a Jedi Knight—a seasoned warrior.

A close call with death, all for the sake of your men who deeply admired you, almost snuffed out your light. But, your command and growing mastery of the Force made him prouder than ever at that moment.

A subtle shift in your sleep saw a strand of your hair falling gently over your face, just over your nose each little breath lifting it slightly, It brought a smile to his face, and for the first time in days, he felt a sense of tranquility, his pulse calming in the warmth of that precious moment. The chaos of the war outside felt distant within the confines of the cozy room.

Unbeknownst to him, his hand had instinctively reached out, delicately brushing the strand of hair away from your face, inadvertently prompting you to stir in your sleep, accompanied by a soft, sleepy groan.

Wakefulness pulled you from the warm embrace of sleep and instinctively you stretched, a grimace of pain crossed your lips as you moved, prompting you to recoil slightly into a ball once more. Then your eyelashes fluttered open gradually met by crystal blue eyes, quickly filling with a storm of fatigue, confusion, and curiosity. 

"Hello, young one," he uttered, his voice a gentle murmur rich with affection, and his smile extended to the corners of his eyes, creating subtle crinkles.

"Obi-Wan?" 

"Yes, it's Obi-Wan."

Was this a dream? It didn't feel like one. You scanned the room, casting a questioning glance at your surroundings and the unfolding reality. Your expression wasn't one of pleasure upon seeing him; instead, it bore confusion and distance, as if you were looking at a stranger. He couldn't ignore the palpable sense of disconnect. Hoping for a misunderstanding, that perhaps you had maintained secrecy for a mission, he observed the passing seconds, realizing it wasn't as simple as that.

"What day is it?" 

Not the question he had expected, but he was so relieved to hear your voice, that it didn’t matter.

"Primday. You've been in medical for two days, released from the intensive treatment wing just yesterday."

Thirteen years melted away, and those familiar, brilliant blue eyes, so kind and warm. Nostalgia washed over you, and you couldn't deny the yearning for the comforting presence of your former master. 

However, as the waves of reminiscence subsided, the reality you'd been avoiding for thirteen years resurfaced. Obi-Wan's knowledge about your condition, coupled with his intense worry, unsettled you, you had to get away from him. Sitting up was a struggle, and as you finally managed to rise, the blanket slipped away, laying bare the toll of battle on your body—a sight that triggered anger, and concern in Obi-Wan's eyes.

A large portion of your left thigh was concealed beneath a sizable bacta patch, and the same superficial injuries that littered the rest of your body continued, it seemed no part of you had been spared, your less-than-optimal state caught him off guard. 

“You should be in a bacta tank! They released you like this?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted, the worry etched on his face evident. “Come, I’m taking you back to the medical wing.”

“Absolutely not!” Your bold assertion caught him off guard and he stopped, there had only been a handful of times where you had defied your master. You adjusted your tone to a more calm and measured cadence before adding, “The bacta tanks are at capacity, and there are far more injured than I. –I’m fine. Just scratches.”

He blinked rapidly, his concern escalating. “Scratches? These are NOT scratches.” Oblivious to your state of undress, he gestured to your leg. “You were nearly killed! I saw the holo myself!”

Feeling the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, you searched for any excuse to put more space between you and your master. Ignoring his pleas for you to stay put, you tried to stand again, driven by your stubborn nature. It wasn't until Obi-Wan physically stepped in, restraining you, that you finally came to a stop.

“You can't go back like this,” he insisted, “You're in terrible shape, you need time to recover.”

You made a final attempt to push past him, but Obi-Wan wasn't having it. A firm but considerate hand on your chest gently pushed you back, and a wave of discomfort washed over you as the dull throb of your muscles crying out caught up with your exertions. Glancing to the side table, he spotted a hypo syringe, and without hesitation, he reached for it, eager to bring an end to your pain. However, you extended your hand and vehemently shook your head, intensifying his disbelief as you refused pain medication despite the evident discomfort you were in.

“I don’t need it,” you insisted, defiantly rejecting any relief for your pain. Obi-Wan couldn't fathom your refusal, considering the severity of your injuries.

“You were hit by three blaster bolts and blown up, and you refuse pain medicine?” His voice rose unintentionally, a mix of concern and frustration evident. He shook his head in disbelief, disappointed by your seemingly stubborn choices. He set the syringe down and rose turning away from you, hands on his hips trying to make sense of you but you’d never made it easy on him.

“And you expected to make it down the hall, into the turbo life through the halls, and into the squad bay like this?” He gestured vaguely to you and huffed out a breath The internal conflict of caring for someone who refused care etched across his face and he shut his eyes in exasperation. “What am I to do with you?”

The room settled into a calm stillness, and he could feel the Force flowing gently, like a quiet river moving past him. Eager to offer support, he laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, connecting his own Force presence with yours. A tranquil hush filled the space as you both embraced the ancient practice, seeking solace for the aches and pains that lingered.

The room filled with the soothing hum of the Force, a brief moment of relief washing over you like waves tickling at your toes, easing the discomfort. The pain began to melt away, replaced by a comforting warmth. Yet, as soon as you felt his added touch, your eyes snapped open, and you jerked back abruptly cutting off both the Force connection and the physical contact. It was as if you pulled back as if the sensation burned you. Confusion widened his eyes, hurt creasing his handsome features. He lowered his head into his hands, his voice tinged with a tremor of pain as he grappled with the mystery of your sudden distance and coldness toward him.

"What have I done to you?" 

His eyes closed in unbearable agony, and his head bowed forward, hair cascading over his face. 

"How have I wronged you? In what way did I hurt you so profoundly that my own padawan refrains from uttering my name to her company, or anyone else? That she remains a secret, that no one knows she was mine?" 

His?

An ocean of hurt filled those beautiful blue eyes as he looked up, and for the first time, he saw you gaze back at him and actually see him.

"Nothing, you did nothing. Obi-Wan I–" 

Shaking your head, you reached out to him, but this time it was he who recoiled, taking several steps back, attempting to regain control over his faltering composure. Pain welled up within you, the knowledge that you tried to follow what you believed was right, what you were taught was right, and still it had caused harm.

"I must have done something to you for you to treat me this way." His voice carried a hint of indignation now. "Was I too harsh? Unjust? A cruel master? What did I do to make you harbor such hatred towards me?" Hate? 

No, no, no. This was all wrong. What had you done?

"I don't hate you," You pleaded, your voice carrying the weight of regret. "I could never hate you, Obi-Wan."

"Oh? What else am I left to believe? One moment I'm watching you being knighted, the youngest of your clan, my heart swelling with pride at knowing the galaxy will never see another Jedi like you. And the next, you're just gone! No goodbye, no farewells, no communications, nothing. As if the years I trained you were of no consequence, as if the bond that follows a Padawan and Master throughout life meant nothing."

Your heart hurt, and you weren't sure which was more painful: the idea that he thought he had wronged you so much that you hated him, or the realization that you had hurt him and continued to do so.

"That's not what it was." 

Your voice was meek, and you struggled to explain but it felt useless, the damage had ben done, by your hand. You had hoped to avoid this conversation, knowing there was only one inevitable outcome: the loss of your relationship with your master, forever. Yet fate seemed determined to unfold it now.

“Then what? What, padawan?”

As he closed the distance between you, your internal turmoil heightened. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself, a feeble attempt to shield not just your body but the vulnerability you felt at that moment. 

"Please, don't call me that."

You sank into the protection of the blanket, avoiding the term that carried memories of a time when things were simpler, a time you desperately wanted to distance yourself from. The weight of the past lingered in the air, leaving you exposed and uncertain about the path this conversation would take.

He seemed both confused and offended now. How could such an important name hold such bitterness for you?

“Padawan,” You flinched at hearing him speak the word in what felt like spite, each syllable caressed by his thick Coruscatnti accent.

“Look at me, padawan.” His commanding presence made it difficult to resist, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, you just couldn’t. The last threads of resistance faded when he spoke as he had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Master’s command,” 

Of course, you would. You always would when he called, as instinctive a reaction to you as breathing. Painfully slowly, you looked up eyes still fighting it the whole time hoping he would understand without any further explanation, but stubbornness and snark was something the Great Negotiator was famed for, and he would not be denied any longer. 

As your eyes locked with his, an unexpected vulnerability washed over you, and you felt more naked than you were. It had been more than a decade since you looked into those eyes, yet the magnetic pull was just as potent now as it had been thirteen years ago. You subtly shook your head, silently pleading.

As the seconds passed, realization dawned on him. Your face, colored by shades of shame and embarrassment, betrayed the unspoken truths. The hand reaching up to your temple was the final revelation, leaving you with nothing to do but let him see.

In the jumble of thoughts racing through your interconnected minds, fragments of him surged to the forefront. His deep blue eyes, the warmth of his smile, the soft touch of his hands—all tangled memories, causing a storm within. He saw the moment you grappled with the painful truth: the man you desired could never be truly yours, shackled by the rigid Jedi code and Obi-Wan's unwavering commitment. Faced with this agony, disappearing into the void seemed like the only refuge, a self-imposed exile to shield both of you from inevitable heartache. So, when you had heard Master Yoda speaking of a mission on the other side of the galaxy, you seized the opportunity. Leaving right away? Perfect. Despite hating the choice, it felt like the only way. You’d have done anything to protect him from yourself. 

He understood now, that whenever he uttered "Padawan" the word brought you pain because it was as close as you could ever be. The pain reverberated, and he, peering into your thoughts, could sense it all. As he withdrew, his eyes conveyed not disappointment but a poignant sadness, leaving a lingering ache that cut deeper than any vibroblade could.

The emptiness he left in your thoughts was unbearable. Your head sank into your hands as you whispered apologies—apologies for keeping secrets, for causing him pain, for leaving him, for unintentionally making him believe you were angry or had betrayed him with these unspoken thoughts. The weight of it all overwhelmed you, and grief started to take hold.

"You ran away, for my benefit?" the weight of his words hung heavily in the air. 

With a single nod, you admitted the harsh truth. And what good did it do? The heartbreak you'd been dodging finally caught up with you, but you’d given it one hell of a run.

You could hear him taking a cautious step back as if you were a dangerous threat to him, but then again, weren’t you? The impending void that would stretch between you two loomed now, and it would stretch for far longer than the span of a few years. This was exactly what you'd hoped to avoid—the door opening, him walking away, and leaving behind an emptiness that nothing could fill.

In the aftermath, you'd head back to your company, join your men, skillfully avoid their questions, and bury the sound of his name so deep it might never resurface. No more uttering it, not even in the quiet corners of your mind. The once-warm memories of your kind master guiding you in the Jedi ways would become bittersweet relics, stained by your own choices.

A profound hopelessness settled in as you rested your head against your hands, hair falling like a curtain. You braced for the tears, waiting for the sound of the doors to open and close one final time before you’d let them fall, shutting your eyes tightly to keep them in. Any second now.

However, the doors remained sealed, he was still there. Was he about to scold you? To make you feel more the foolish girl who should have had better control over her stupid emotions? Guess every wound needed a little salt, though, didn’t it? The situation seemed to only get worse and you found yourself wishing that the blast you struggled to hold back might have killed you instead, that you might be spared this pain.

His voice was almost a whisper, prompting you to glance up. "You don’t hate me?"

You shook your head vigorously, "How could I?"

Was there a chance to salvage this? In any way? You struggled to get back on your feet, your movements thwarted by a shooting persistent pain that would sooner see you fail in your attempt to reach him. And stumble you did, barely managing a few steps before you failed, but your master was right there, catching you before you could hit the ground. With his support, you managed to stand, though he still towered over you. His arm wrapped around you, a reassurance that you were safe. This shouldn't be happening, and he should have left, but he stayed. Why? Would this be it? It had to be. 

Giving in to a momentary desire, you let yourself enjoy a small gesture—your fingers slipping through the back of his neck, remembering the softness of his hair. It was shorter now, and although it suited him, you couldn't help but miss the longer locks that used to invite such thoughts.

“What am I to do with you, padawan?”

His choice of words sent a shiver down your spine, but not in the way it used to. There was a strange undertone in his voice, something you hadn't heard before. You had no answers to his question, but it seemed like responses didn't much matter to him. Then, out of the blue, he stooped down and picked you up in his arms, something you'd only dared dream about.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking you to bed, where I can take you properly." 

You froze. What did he say? Could he really mean what you thought he did? There had to be some misunderstanding. Your love-struck brain must be playing tricks on you. Your master wouldn't actually give in to those desires, right? Your blood raced, your heart thundered and your skin tingled as he effortlessly carried you, making your weight seem inconsequential.

The bed, though not exceptionally soft, transformed into the most comforting spot in the galaxy as he tenderly placed you upon it. Kneeling beside you the mattress dipping to accommodate him as well, he cradled your face in his hands, prompting a shaky "Wha-?" from your trembling voice.

"Stubborn girl," his words hung in the air, accompanied by that unforgettable tone, yes, it was slightly critical but there was something else to it. "You're not leaving this bed until you're fully recovered. Understand, Padawan?" Confusion swirled in your mind at hearing his command, but you managed a small nod. "You will obey your master's commands, won't you?" The authoritative tone was unfamiliar, prompting another slow nod from you. "Say it."

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl," he affirmed, drawing closer, and his lips met yours in an unexpectedly ferocious kiss. 

His mouth quickly took control of yours, leaving no room for confusion about what his intentions were when he said ‘take you properly’. It felt like a tempest, threatening to engulf you, carrying you to the darkest depths but after thirteen years of wanting, and needing, the storm could do as it wanted, if he was the storm.

He smelled like blaster fire, adrenaline, smoke, and lightning—the aftermath of the battlefield sticking to him. Mingling with his scent, like the promise of rain, held traces of incense, taking you back to moments meditating in temples and deserts during your years of travel together. It was a smell that whispered safety and felt like home, a unique cologne you'd spend countless credits on. Something you wanted to drown in.

In countless dreams, you'd imagined moments where your master sought you out after hard battles, dangerous missions, or late at night, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. You dreamed of clandestine rendezvous with his hand covering your mouth urging you to be quiet. 

Now, it wasn't just a fantasy; it was real. His lips moving against yours, licking at your lips, sucking on the tip of your own tongue, fueled by hunger as intense as that of a starving man, confirmed the reality of the moment.

During your trials, he had worn his beard and mustache, and it had long sparked your carnal curiosity about the sensations they might bring – a persistent tickle or a pleasurable burn? It turned out to be both, exquisitely and painfully so, surpassing the allure of any narcotic. The intensity of his mouth against yours was relentless, lips brushing yours before his tongue entered the equation. It delved into your mouth, leaving your usually sharp mind in a state of struggle, accompanied by shaky moans. Yet, none of it mattered. The moment he pressed himself between your legs, seizing the hem of your shirt, all rational thought vanished. Your hungry mind could only process the overwhelming realization that your master was kissing you, his tongue licking at your mouth, and he was pawing at you, undressing you like your clothes were an unforgivable offense. 

His hands, leaving trails of smoldering embers, intensified the moment, but the euphoria came at a cost. When you moved to discard your shirt, a sharp pain shot through your shoulder, stealing a cry from your lips. Clutching your wound, you fought back the urge to cry.

The sudden sound shattered the enchantment, and his eyes snapped open. He pulled away abruptly, looking as if he were shocked to find himself in this situation with you. Clarity returned to his gaze, and a heavy feeling settled in your stomach as he stepped back, his features clouded with alarm, shaking his head.

"No, we can't," he uttered, releasing you abruptly. In an instant, it was over. A desperate breath escaped you as you reached out, but he vanished.

The urge to scream, cry, or tear down the walls clawed at you, but none of it could change what had just happened. Flopping back on the bed, your shoulder met the mattress with a wince. Anger pulsed through your core, fueled by both the recovering blaster wound and the missed opportunity.

He'd kissed you, and touched you, and just when the promise of something more seemed within reach, it slipped away, leaving a bitter taste of disappointment. The thought of his bare skin against yours, a tantalizing dream, now felt elusive. Despair settled in, but the sudden sound of hurried steps shattered the silence—Obi-Wan's unexpected return.

Before you could fully rise, he gently pressed you back down, his body covering you. His lips sought yours again in a softer, slower kiss, dispelling confusion but introducing a new layer of uncertainty.

He hadn’t left. "Master?" You could barely get the word out before his lips crashed into yours again, a hungry, intense kiss that made you forget about everything—the sudden exit, the unexplained return—all vanished in the heat of the moment. A sharp sting in your arm brought you back, and you pulled away with a surprised 'Ow!' Glancing down, you noticed the hypo-syringe in his hand and the red mark on your arm. "Wha-?"

He came back for another kiss, a hungry and urgent embrace that left you breathless. His tongue teased at your lips, an intrusion you found hard to be angry about. During this heated exchange, he murmured, "I'm sorry," between breathless kisses, his hand entangled in your hair, adding an electrifying thrill to the encounter.

His voice, heavy with sincerity and restraint, trailed down your neck as he continued the assault of hungry kisses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” The tingling sensation from the hypo spread through your body, replacing pain with a welcomed numbness. Now his words made sense – he had injected you with an anesthetic, he wasn’t going anywhere.

"But being gentle is not an option right now," he confessed against your skin, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "And I can't wait any longer."

And neither could you.

His presence enveloped you, a promise to soothe the ache that had haunted you. Rational thoughts and hesitations melted in the passionate exchange, leaving behind an urgent desire for his tongue to dance with yours, to savor the taste of you.

The pain became a distant murmur, overshadowed by the seductive cadence of his armor shedding away. The unmistakable sound of metal parts cascading to the floor filled the air, a harmonious unveiling that played like a haunting melody, laced with the promise of imminent closeness. Each metallic clink and rustle, orchestrated with practiced finesse, blended seamlessly with the mounting heat, composing a sensual symphony that underscored the unfolding intimacy.

"Padawan-” He sounded so full of need. “Have you waited this whole time to touch me, only to just lay there?"

No, you hadn't. Your senses snapped back into focus, and the relentless ache demanded action. Rising up with fiery determination, you seized his lip between your teeth, fingers tangled in his tousled locks. Leg wrapped around his waist, you provocatively thrust your hips into his, stirring a primal hunger. A low, appreciative groan escaped him, and the remaining shreds of restraint evaporated in the scorching intensity of the moment.

“Very good, padawan,” he whispered between searing kisses "Now, tell me what you want. Tell me every craving, every ache you've hidden from your master."

The legendary negotiator, renowned for his poise, eloquence, grace, and dignity in the heat of battle or the midst of a debate, was always portrayed as a polished and composed figure. However, the General Kenobi before you was a stark departure from that image—a persona that sensually grazed your neck with his lips, tenderly explored the curves of your breasts with his hands and moved his hips in a rhythm that ignited an intense passion. This wasn't just the great negotiator; it was the manifestation of a double life—a formidable lover hidden beneath the veneer of a respected leader.

His shorter locks proved to be the perfect handhold, their soft strands entwining with your fingers. The subtle roughness of his beard intensified the already electric atmosphere, adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. 

In the fiery dance of passion and longing, he'd always preached the power of actions over words. Guided by that intimate lesson, you eagerly set out to unravel the layers of his robes, with a gentle push, he rose back up to stand while you sat on the bed, your hands moving with a fervor fueled by desire. The belt surrendered first, dropping to the ground with a soft thud, the lightsaber noticeably absent, carefully stowed away. Urgently, the ties of his loose robe followed suit in the passionate race to undress him. The linen shirt glided away from his broad shoulders, gracefully descending to the floor, revealing the lush expanse of his bare chest. With unwavering determination, you committed every inch of your master's body to the canvas of your memory, each touch a sensual exploration of his lean, muscled skin, a sensory feast that ignited the flames of desire.

"This." 

Your fingers traced the shape of his already hard length beneath the fabric of his trousers, coaxing a low moan from Obi-Wan against your neck. "Master, I want this." A firm squeeze elicited a shudder, coursing through him as you continued to tease through his clothing. "I want it in my mouth." His breath hitched, and his hips responded eagerly. Slowly untying the laces of his trousers, your hand slipped inside, embracing his him. The guttural groan that escaped him sent warmth rippling through your body. "Between my legs."

Your master's throbbing cock pulsed in your hands, radiating heat against your skin—hard and demanding. Each stroke elicited untamed pleasure, breaking through the disciplined walls the Jedi Order had meticulously built over the decades. The symphony of his responses played out in sensual notes: the quivers across his skin, the ragged gasps, and the vulnerable moans, all orchestrated by your skilled touch. Hypnotized by the power you held over him, you savored every moment, captivated by the way his body reacted to your every movement. How his hips surged forward in a hungry plea as your hand teased and retreated, and then faltered when you squeezed him with deliberate, unhurried strokes. An irresistible urge surged within you, a yearning to fulfill the fantasies that had simmered within your soul for a decade.

“Master, your padawan wants your cock.” 

His hips faltered again at the sheer filth that you spoke of, the way your voice caressed such dirty thoughts, he twitched in your hand and you tried not to moan. Like a siren call you began to dip your head forward, desperate to satisfy the curiosity of how he tasted, your goal so close, a breath away from your lips when it was cruelly ripped away from you. His hand wrapped gently but assertively around your throat giving the softest squeeze that prompted you to rub your thighs together to still the full body shudder. 

“My padawan will learn patience. I asked you to tell me your thoughts, not to carry them out.” 

You wanted to cry, maybe he expected a submissive little padawan.

“Up, further on the bed.” 

He let you go, and you followed his command, scooting back towards the middle of the bed. The intensity of his gaze made it challenging not to tremble. The sight of your master, shirtless, messy hair, swollen lips, and trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips, carried the knowledge that his hard arousal had been in your hands. Knowing you had driven him to that point made obeying his commands a fierce internal struggle. The difficulty only intensified as he knelt on the bed, crawling toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. His eyes held an unfamiliar, burning intensity, setting your own desires ablaze. How was it possible for blue eyes to burn?

His voice, low and commanding, demanded you to lie back, leaving no room for protest. The once-lacy barrier of your panties and bra felt like an unnecessary formality as he leaned over, his arms creating a delicious trap against the bed. Escape wasn't even a consideration, not that you wanted it. He peered at your shoulder, voice holding a hint of soft concern as he asked, "Are you in any pain?" With a shake of your head, A wolfish grin played on his handsome face. "Good. Though, you might when I'm done with you." Oh, stars. Denying you a proper kiss, his tongue traced the trail of desire from your lips down your jaw and neck.

“Going to have to punish you a bit for abandoning your master,” 

What? He was going to punish you? Your heart threatened to burst as his lips drifted down your chest, lavishing every imperfection marring your skin with a sweep of his tongue and a caress of his hands.

Despite having command of the force all your life, the very notion that it may be used against you, that it could be unseen hands acting on Obi-Wan’s will, tearing the rest of your clothes off thrilled you. But he surprised you, it seemed he was more hands-on, the bra you wore was quickly gone and that hot mouth of his found its way to your nipples delicately teasing. Slow and purposeful swipes of his tongue coupled with the soft seal of his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth made you arch wantonly into his waiting mouth with a whimper. 

Was this what he’d meant about punishment? 

He quickly answered that for you, the gentle vibrations of his moan passing through your teased nipples as he switched from one to treat the other to equal pleasure. 

“Your punishment can wait though,” That eloquently talented tongue of his drew sensual circles that brought a choked sob past your lips. “First, I’m going to take care of my padawan. Make her come for me in all the ways she’s ever dreamed, so she’ll never leave me again,” Your heart skipped a beat, several in fact, “Till her body shakes and she can no longer bear not having my cock in her.” 

He finally released your aching nipples moving down the soft flat expanse of your stomach tongue dipping into your navel. “My powerful,” he kissed your hip, “beautiful,” he sucked on the skin as his fingers tucked into your panties “Sensitive,” and pulled them down your legs. “Neglected,” His breath ghosted over your thigh, tossing the garment aside. “Padawan.” 

Never again would the word Padawan cause you pain, never again would it represent ache and loss and missed opportunities. Your chest rose in shallow breaths and you were fairly certain you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling before fluttering closed completely, listening to your master's voice, feeling his hot breath on your most delicate body parts. And for a few terrible moments he let you sit there feeling his breath, the occasional brush of his beard on your skin, the anticipation more horrible than a thousand lonely nights with only your fantasies and touch. 

“Master.” You wished you hadn’t sounded so pitiful, so needy and pathetic but you were and you couldn’t help it. Naked on a bed with your master’s breath teasing you between your legs, you were ready to beg. 

“Padawan,” 

The word whispered, barely audible a fraction of eternity passed before you felt the sweetly sinful furnace of his mouth on your lips before his tongue swept past them to taste you. A shrill and sudden intake of breath shattered the stillness of the room, and your hips canted up against his mouth and you cried out in a drawn-out moan. Not in any pain but the desperate tens of thousands of lonely nights where you cried his name in your mind each time you came against your hand. 

His strokes were sweet and slow and left no part of you untouched. You’re lungs seized up momentarily and your brain misfired too many impulses, the instinct to jump away upon the startling contact with his mouth warred the desire to watch him, which also struggled against the urge to seize his hair and beg him to take you right then and there.

All impulses crashed into one another with each broad stroke of his tongue against your pussy, you lay back practically panting desperately trying to remember how to breathe properly, but with every flick of his tongue saw to it that you forgot whatever it was you were trying to remember. 

Your toes curled slightly in shameless pleasure when you felt his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you with the promise of sublime ecstasy to be had if he would only use his fingers. The very ones calloused from years of wielding a lightsaber now brought blistering pleasure with every touch. The sounds of his breathing intermingled with deep groans as he lapped at you like he was dying of thirst, only adding to the symphony of sex you would play over and over in your head until the end of your days. 

As you lay there losing your mind in the velvet embrace of your master’s mouth, Obi-Wan was studying you, learning your pleasure through each taste, stroke, and flick of the tongue. Committing to memory how you reacted when he licked hard or sucked softly the cadence of your breathing and the buck of your hips, what drew sweet whimpers or unabashed moans. He found a rhythm, long, slow broad strokes, that made you gasp each time no matter how often he did it, you could never get used to it. Followed by the quick teasing flutter of his tongue on your clit, fingers sweeping gently along the length of your lips throwing fuel to the fire he that was beginning to rage out of control. The hot lazy hunger of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever felt and it was impossible to keep your eyes open for any length of time, it just felt so good, as if your brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening it would occasionally rapid-fire messages to you as though you were unaware of exactly what was going on.

‘Master’s mouth is between my legs.’

‘Stars! He’s licking me.’

‘He’s going to make me come!’

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the soft sound of a deep and throaty chuckle, the reverberations stole your breath and sidetracked your thoughts.

‘Yes, padawan, you will come for me. Until I grow weary of the noises you make.’

The words played out in your mind as if they came from everywhere echoing off the walls of your thoughts, but when you glanced down, Obi-Wan was focused on you. Not even a teasing expression, his eyes seemed closed in rapture as though he were enjoying an exquisite, delicacy catered to his palette only. And enjoying it thoroughly.

When not dancing teasing touches to your entrance, his hands stroked the inside of your thighs opening your legs further each time, mindful not to agitate your wounds, his touch so delicate that it made your skin tingle with sensitivity. 

It was unbelievable how quickly he’d gotten you so close to cumming but then his voice in your head tell you the most wicked thoughts aided in that considerably. 

Never before did you ever think such a thing would happen, your master hungrily feasting on your pussy. It had to be a dream, it was too good, any moment when you were nearly ready for the rolling torrent of orgasm to crash upon you, you would wake up and cling to the remnants of this dream while hurriedly bringing yourself to climax while muffling any sounds into your pillow.

“No, my padawan, this is no dream. I’m going to make you come for me now.”

His mouth found your clit again, giving it a series of slow licks and gentle, open-mouthed kisses before spreading your lips open giving you no reprieve from that masterful mouth of his. Then he truly went to work on you, stimulating that little bundle of nerves by flicking the tip of his tongue over and over increasing in speed until you could scarcely breathe and your body was writhing on the bed, the moans tumbling from your mouth. Your wails combined with your desperate pleas carried through the room with lick, swirl, and suckle. 

Obi-wan’s voice continued calling to you whispering so many salacious things to you; that he loved how you tasted so sweet to him, “My darling, padawan, your taste is divine, so sweet.” 

That your moans were what he would play in his head when he stroked himself if he couldn’t have you, “Yes, sing for me, tell me how good I’m making you feel,” 

How he knew you were going to strangle his cock when he finally let you have it, “S’going to feel so good when I bury my cock in you, isn’t it? Going to strangle me, aren’t you?” 

How gorgeous you looked like this for him and it was only for him, “So, beautiful all laid out for me, only for me, aren’t you?”

And for each whispered thought in your mind you moaned a ragged “Yes, master! Yes! Yes!”

This was it, he was going to kill you, this was how you would join the living Force, wildly in the throws of orgasm. You couldn’t even manage his name, barely able to utter the first syllable, voice raising in pitch, your body growing rigid as it all culminated towards an exquisite peak. It was the sound of Obi-wan’s half breath, half moan, and the demanding cadence of his order sounding in your mind rising above all other words; the command to come for him, and you did. The thick throaty satisfied moan of a man who wanted to be no other place than between your legs, reverberating through your flesh and raced up your core.

Waves of fire, hotter than any star, more molten than any lightsaber, radiated from your thoroughly stimulated pussy overtaking your body as his mouth worked you over slowly teasing out every ounce of pleasure he could, wringing it from you like water from a rag. 

Repeating the word "Master" like a mantra, a symphony of desire and surrender as you writhed against him. No longer in control, you became a willing captive to the relentless pulses dictated by Obi-Wan. The euphoric journey continued an unending cascade of sensations and shared ecstasy. And it didn’t stop, like a fire it grew more and more intense, shocking you, never before had you experienced sensations like what he was giving you. You just kept coming.

Would it ever stop? The overwhelming wave of pleasure seemed boundless. It was intoxicating, almost too much. As the peak of ecstasy subsided, it left behind little electric shocks of overstimulation with each additional stroke of Obi-Wan's tongue, trying to coax out a little more. The intensity lingered, a sensation that bordered on both pleasure and sweet torment.

The sweet agony of pleasure mixed with the sting of overstimulation was a cruelty of human physiology. You wanted more, a hungry desire pushing him to give you everything. But your body rebelled, aching for a momentary escape from the relentless assault. Your hips wriggled and began to buck trying to throw him off in a wordless plea for him to ease the intensity. Yet, he pressed on, undeterred, as you grappled with the conflicting sensations, lost in the dizzying dance of pleasure and pain.

“Master! Please! No more– I-I can’t!” The way your words sounded so weak and your voice nearly broken seemed to finally reach him and he slowed to a stop, depositing one final deep kiss and drawing an unadulterated moan from you before he finally released your overworked, quivering flesh. 

Your body shivered as he moved up the bed to kiss your lips. The lingering scent and taste of your orgasm clung to his mouth—a mix of sweat and satisfaction, intensified by the unique aroma coming from him. It was potent enough to make you teeter on the brink of another climax, a fortunate secret he remained unaware of.

For some reason you felt like you needed to thank him, which was ridiculous, thank him for what? For giving you the most amazing orgasm you’d ever had? It seemed a bit awkward and out of place but somehow given this new dominant side of your master, he might enjoy that.

He breathed in deeply as if savoring the aftermath of a fulfilling workout. But the look on his face spoke of more than just exertion; it was a blend of delight and contentment.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like you'd had one too many drinks. The air seemed to swirl around you, and his disheveled hair falling over his face only added to the effect. His smile was downright criminal, it seemed almost unnatural for a man to look so good wearing nothing but a smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled, the word sounding feeble even to your own ears, but Obi-Wan's pleased expression suggested he appreciated the sentiment.

“Did you enjoy that, my little padawan?” The endearment sent a shiver down your spine, and all you could manage was a nod. As his lips met yours once more, a wave of euphoria washed over you. Soft, powerful, firm—his kisses were everything you'd hoped for, stirring desire in every part of your being, and the knowledge that he’s just used that mouth on you made your heart race and your cunt ache.

“Tell me, before I take you, how many?” The question hung between you, a mix of desire and curiosity in Obi-Wan's voice. You were a bit baffled, trying to figure out the context of his question. Orgasms? It wasn’t something you kept tabs on. Sensing your confusion, he clarified, “Men. Lovers. How many?”

An awkward lump formed in your throat as you replied, “None.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. There was a momentary flicker in his expression that could almost be mistaken for anger, but his subsequent fervent return to kissing dispelled that notion. “None? How is that possible? That I am the first to ever touch you like this?”

“The first man.” He froze, his expression shifting to shock at your admission. The truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to be with a man when the one you desired was out of reach. Women, however...

“I’ve had lovers, just not any men; I didn’t want them.”

“You’ve taken female lovers?” he asked. You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t disapprove. His grin returned, now carrying a wolfish quality, and his mouth found its way back to your breast. His kiss turned fierce, hungry—a prelude to the kind of passion that precedes throwing someone onto a bed and ravishing them.  “Naughty thing,” he murmured. Relief flooded through you, quickly followed by euphoria. “Did you enjoy that? Letting other women touch you?”

"Sometimes." He appeared puzzled, and you nonchalantly shrugged, steering clear of his penetrating gaze. The notion of accepting disappointment felt like a subtle form of judgment.

"Women can be selfish lovers too." The idea of your satisfaction not being guaranteed seemed to trouble him. He shook his head slowly, 'tsking' you, as though imparting guidance on what was and wasn't acceptable.

"That won't do at all," he declared, lowering his lips to yours in a kiss that sent electric shivers down your spine. "I’m going to erase every memory of anyone who’s ever touched you." His tongue danced over your nipple again, barely tasting it and he stopped to savor your little breath. “Going to fuck you until you cry out my name, going to make sure you’re never left wanting again.” With a flick of his tongue, his hand started massaging your other breast, “Would you like that, padawan, for your master to make you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, Master! Please!”

“So respectful when you’ve had your cunt devoured, aren't you?” 

Those words, oh, they hit you in all the right places. You never thought he had it in him—the raw, unfiltered sexuality. Suddenly, you weren't just yearning for his touch; you wanted to be the one to make him quiver and groan, to do to him, what he did to you. To see how your words and caresses could unravel the composed Jedi Master. It wasn't just about fulfilling your own cravings; it was about sharing a dance of passion and exploring uncharted realms of desire together.

Strength surged within you, not the physical kind, but a potent force you had at your command. Calling upon the Force was as natural as breathing, and with a graceful wave of your hand, Obi-Wan found himself unceremoniously tossed onto his back, a look of astonishment etched across his features as if captivated by an unexpected dance. Yes, you had just harnessed the Force against your master.

The sight of your master supine, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, hair tousled in disarray, trousers precariously low on his hips, and all because you had put him there. His eyes held a mesmerizing blend of surprise and desire, mirroring the emotions flickering within yourself. Seizing the moment before he could recover, you took a daring leap and went in to lay siege.

Obi-Wan, caught off guard by your bold moves, sank into the softness of the bed. Your fingers danced through his hair and beard, jerking his head back to expose his neck, ensuring he wouldn't forget this moment. A low, appreciative purr escaped his chest, silently praising your audacity. With each kiss and playful nip, he seemed to yield to your lead, responding with soft sounds of approval.

You savored the blissful aftermath of victory, those suspended seconds lingering in the air. In that fleeting time, your senses buzzed with playful thoughts, tempting fantasies, and desires long confined. He might have allowed the moment to stretch a bit more, but then came your teasing nips, tracing the spots that made him flinch with delightful sensitivity.

“Want to taste you,” You muttered, fairly certain you hadn’t imagined that little ‘oh.’

"Padawan..." His voice, a touch hoarse, accompanied the journey of your fingers down his ribs and along his toned stomach. Moving closer to the tantalizing waistband of his trousers where your prize awaited you, the desire to feel him in your hand became almost unbearable. Yet, you found justification for a bit more teasing. Fingers dipped just inside the band of his trousers, close enough to feel him twitch and buck at your almost-touches, it was too delicious to only do once.

Perhaps you shouldn't have pushed your luck.

Because, like the fabric of Jedi robes, his patience wore thin. It was then that your Master's restraint snapped, like a stretched cord finally giving way.

In an instant, he grabbed your waist, executing a swift and aggressive flip that left him looming above you, pinning you down on the bed. His body pressed into yours, and a sly grin hinted that the game was about to get a lot more daring. The air hummed with anticipation as he shook his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss that left you breathless.

"What were you thinking, Padawan?" His voice, low and husky, carried a thick layer of desire, each word steeped in need. His intense gaze locked onto yours, silently questioning.

"Touching your master without permission?" 

Stunned. You struggled to form a response, your lips moved, and no words broke free. Was he serious? After the intoxicating dance of his mouth had just brought you to an unparalleled climax, he expected you to ask permission to touch him? It felt absurd.

Questions raced through your mind. Was this some kind of test? A dominance play? Your stomach dropped. Maybe this was the punishment he’d spoken of, an exercise in humility? Searching his cerulean eyes for a hint of jest, the intense atmosphere from before remained, now layered with a different kind of tension. He simply shook his head slightly. The weight of his expectation hung in the room, leaving you torn between the impulse to surrender and the desire to meet his challenge with your own fiery response.

 "Yes, I do. I expect my padawan to remain obedient and respectful, no matter how she hungers." 

His fingers lingered just above your cheek, a subtle reminder of his ability to pluck your thoughts effortlessly, like plucking a flower from the grass. However, you had long since outgrown the status of a padawan, having ascended to the rank of Jedi Knight. If he expected pleading or begging, he was in for disappointment. A steely determination cast a shadow across your features. With narrowed eyes, you threw down a challenge. If he sought access to your mind, you were prepared to offer more than he had bargained for.

A coy smile danced on your lips, causing his own smile to falter ever so slightly. That mischievous glint in your eyes was a familiar precursor to something daring, and you had no intention of disappointing your master in this unexplored realm. Shutting your eyes, you tilted your head, letting his fingers brush against your face, shifting the battleground from the physical to the unseen.

Instead of engaging him through physical means, you chose to confront him on the mental plane, projecting your thoughts with an intensity that demanded attention. He took a sharp breath, caught off guard by the rush of images, thoughts, and sounds hitting him like a brisk breeze. The unexpected depth of your mental communication briefly disrupted the seamless flow of the physical connection.

This wasn't just a subtle act of rebellion; it was a declaration that you were no longer the Padawan he once trained. As a Jedi Knight, you wielded more than just a lightsaber—you possessed a will of your own, armed with a bag of tricks beyond anyone's expectations.

Though he could still address you as Padawan to elicit a reaction, you were so much more. Long-concealed thoughts, years hidden in secrecy, surged forth, intertwining with stolen glances and intimate moments—all now laid bare before Obi-Wan.

A mosaic of self-indulgent pleasures unfolded—whispered calls of his name amid moments of personal bliss. Stolen encounters, and lingering desires, all painted a picture of your yearning. The once-private fantasies, meant for the sanctuary of your thoughts, now exposed—a checklist of desires you had secretly harbored for him.

Breathless, he found himself caught in the private corners of your mind, imagined scenes unfolded, that saw you in a passionate dance, bodies entwined, covered in sweat, exploring countless positions. An insatiable hunger for him, even if he lay prone and exhausted, pleading with him for more.

The many ways you wanted to touch him, to pleasure him, and hear him echo your name as you had cried his— to render him powerless and explore his body until he succumbed to climax after climax and could give no more. 

He shivered with excitement, lost in the fantasy of the intense bliss you painted in his mind. Those throaty moans of pleasure felt so real, almost like he could taste them. Surprised by the raw intensity of your craving to taste him and drink him, he moaned your name in the tangled passion, every drop of his essence landing on your eager tongue as he lay back lost of the haze of sex and stimulation.

It wasn't merely about satisfying him; your desire surpassed that. There was an unquenchable hunger for him to seize control, to witness him unrestrained and consumed by passion and dominance. Whether he threw you onto the bed or pressed you against the wall, positions that brought a delightful twinge of discomfort on your end, all aimed at bringing him ecstasy, standing unassisted became an impossible task. The profound intensity of your yearning unfurled like a revelation, taking him by surprise.

The cat was out of the bag; the secret lay bare. Now, with an untamed glint in his eyes, it seemed you might have ventured into territory beyond your expectations.

"Padawan, my sweet, sinful, Padawan," His lips dipped to your ear, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I should enlighten you with some of MY thoughts."

Composure became a fleeting notion as he placed his hand firmly on your temple and a rush of sensations overwhelmed you, powerful enough that the right touch might send you into another blinding climax, akin to a torrent of whitewater tossing a stick of dry driftwood.

His unfiltered thoughts surged into your mind, a river of forbidden fantasies and suppressed desires. In the shared space of his consciousness, visions unfurled like an intimate tapestry—a clandestine gallery of how he yearned for you, each scene a seductive exploration of passion.

In one vivid fantasy more powerful than your own, you found yourself pressed against the cold metal of a ship's wall, arms held captive overhead by an unseen force naked while he still wore his full robes. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he knelt before you, entirely at the mercy of his desires, and he had none. He skillfully coaxed orgasm after orgasm from your quivering form, every touch and caress hearing you cry out and wail his name until you were hoarse. Overwhelmed by the sensations, until you were rendered speechless, too weak to utter the word "Master" as pleasure consumed your senses.

Then the landscape shifted with your master now behind you, his hands exploring your body with practiced skill. Fingers danced between your legs, teasing your aching clit, perfectly synchronized with the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips. In the shared intimacy, he praised you, “Such a good girl” and admiring your patience in holding back on coming until he granted permission. His voice, a velvety whisper, encouraged you to hang on, promising to reward your patience but only after he had cum inside you, again.

“You think your desires are greater and darker than my own? So innocent of you…” 

His words hit you like a revelation, unraveling a new side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that forever changed the way you saw him.

Another shift of vision saw you in the High Council Chamber, he sat naked in his seat, his strong thighs spread wide, and there you knelt before him. His hand gripped your hair, guiding his cock down your throat, and you obediently swallowed it all. With a gritty grunt, he demanded you not waste a drop, telling you to swallow all of it, praising your beauty as you served your master on your knees.

Your body pulsed and throbbed with each vision he gave you until the sights, sounds, and sensations grew so powerful all it took was the gentle stroke of his fingers between your legs to set you off. You threw your head back into the bed and moaned as the strength of your orgasm was amplified by your connection to your master as his most private thoughts continued playing in your head.

As he let you go, the fantasies slowly faded, and you found yourself returning to the tangible present. It was like your vision was coming back to focus, bit by bit, from the edges to the center. The room's immediate surroundings started to replace the lingering echoes of those intense daydreams.

In that moment, it was clear—he had won. The sly grin on his face revealed a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. It was the look of someone who had conquered and was eagerly anticipating claiming their prize.

“Tell me, Padawan, are you ready to ask your master if you can touch him?” 

But there you were, a flicker of fight still dancing in your eyes. Trying to push against him to sit up, that burning desire to kiss him ignited, fueled by a longing to make him yearn for you. You wanted to kindle the flames of passion until he begged for your touch. Yet, your Master had other plans. Suddenly your body refused to cooperate, stubbornly resisting your every attempt. Even the simplest tasks, like wiggling your toes, proved to be impossible.

As your efforts were thwarted, Obi-Wan's grin grew, taking on a dark intensity. His stormy eyes promised something profound, something that transcended the physical. His gaze seemed to revel in the power he held over your immobilized form, piercing through the struggle within.

“Use the Force on your master to tease him, will you? Let us see how you like it?” His lips ghosted over your breast, barely warming your nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “You will ask permission, Padawan. I can wait.” His mouth enclosed over the hard bud lazily stroking, teeth occasionally grazing as your pathetic little whimpers danced in the air. 

He seemed perfectly content in his torturous teasing, but he had to be aching himself. Had to want to fuck you as badly as you wanted him to fuck you. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!

"Life is never fair, padawan," he murmured, as if reading the turmoil in your mind. "I had a very different plan for you until you chose to utilize the Force on your master. Now, you'll beg for the privilege to touch me."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and as he continued his fervent exploration, his hands tracing paths on your body that bordered on pain due to the lingering sensitivity from previous climaxes, you couldn't fathom how he remained so composed. The dichotomy of your desperation and his controlled demeanor only added to the maddening allure of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I want to sink my cock into this tight, perfect cunt,” His fingers grazed your lips and you were powerless to stop him, you could barely tremble at his touch. “How badly I want to feel you squeeze my cock, but I’ve not achieved the rank of master without considerable discipline.” 

He returned to your breast sucking harder, as his fingers employed a more delicate touch between your legs, which you were powerless to close, soft, sweet strokes on your thighs, and your lips but cruelly or mercifully avoiding your clit. Your lips trembled at the delicate touch, and in that moment, the unfairness of it all struck you like a tidal wave. 

For years, he had been your mentor, teaching you the art of patience and urging you to play the long game. "Be patient," he would say, "gauge your opponent."

But in the whirlwind of your desires, the very lessons he drilled into you seemed to crumble. Impatience surged, a desperate yearning for instant gratification that clashed with the wise teachings of your master. He offered to fulfill your every desire, promising pleasures beyond imagination. Yet, in your haste to assert newfound power, eager to prove you were more than just his padawan, you discovered there were still lessons for him to teach, more wisdom to share.

Your urgency led to a clash of power dynamics, revealing your master still held the upper hand. A soft sob of frustration escaped, breaking his focused demeanor. His once passionate cerulean eyes now held a glimmer of concern and curiosity as he paused.

"Say the words, padawan," His voice entreated gently, a soft call laced with a plea that tugged at the strings of your stubborn pride. You might have resisted longer if not for the unsaid words that reverberated in the echoes of your mind. "Padawan, please!"

Your eyes shot open, scanning the room for any hint that the desperation in Obi-Wan Kenobi's gaze was just a figment of your imagination. Yet, there it was—a pleading look that intertwined compassion and desire in a delicate dance across his face.

At that moment, it dawned on you: you had won. The silent struggle between you and your former master, the unspoken battle of wills, had reached its conclusion. The walls you'd built around your emotions had crumbled in the face of that unspoken plea. It wasn't about conquest; it was a surrender, and the victory was yours. 

You might be the first to say the words but he was the first to beg.

"Please, Master," Your voice, a sweet melody of desire, reached into the core of his being. His gaze narrowed, and he froze, the invisible bonds around you weakening, his resistance giving way. "Let me touch you, Master," You pleaded sweetly, your words dripping with need. "I want you," You added, turning up the heat until the bonds snapped completely. “Let me taste you, let me have you.”

With their release, he was on your lips again, kissing you with a desperate hunger, untamed and wild. Yet, despite your newfound freedom, you lay still beneath him, a silent presence he couldn't resist. 

"Padawan! Are you going to touch me or not?" 

His outrage was amusing. A playful grin toyed with the corners of your lips, hinting at your delight. 

Feigning innocence, you shot back, "You haven’t given me permission to touch you."

His eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of anticipation coursing through him as a deep, appreciative groan escaped him, acknowledging your skillful play as his Padawan. 

"Darling, please, touch your master," 

With a surge of passion, you seized the moment, fingers seizing his hair with purpose, jerking hard enough that he cried out, a pull that danced on the edge of sweet pain. 

Defying the limits of control, you launched a fervent attack on his lips, reclaiming the kiss with an intensity that screamed desire. Your tongue demanded entry, a forceful and unapologetic dive into the depths of his mouth. A low grunt slipped from him, a mix of surprise and a hint of surrender, adding fuel to the blaze sparking between you. The dance of your intertwined tongues became a symphony of passion, a primal declaration signaling the end of any lingering boundaries.

Your hips rolled into a painfully hard erection, and any trace of Obi-Wan's usual witty banter vanished into the charged air. The playful banter was replaced by a more primal language.

Pushing him onto his back was effortless now; he offered no resistance. Finally. The tension that had once held him captive had melted away into bliss. His half-lidded eyes, lost in a dreamy state, promised memories that would keep you warm for days to come. 

With deliberate intent, you explored every inch of his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. His deep breathing echoed in the room, accompanied by the subtle sounds of contentment that escaped his lips. As your journey continued downward, tracing the path of pleasure, you encountered the nearly pained expression that adorned his face. His chest heaved with anticipation as you approached his trousers, the memory of how close you had been to having him earlier playing in your mind. A grin danced on your lips, fueled by the sharp gasps escaping him, as you mouthed his cock through the fabric.

You couldn't wait to have him, the urgency taking over. The waistband tugged down in a hurry, your mouth watering in anticipation. Your hand wrapped around him, and he stuttered at the touch. His cock, just as perfect as you'd imagined—long, thick, and undeniably eager to be touched—and positively leaking. It felt like the room might collapse when your tongue licked at the pearlescent precum gathering from his weeping cock, you swept around his swollen head, savoring every delicious drop. His hands shook, gripping the bed in an immediate white-knuckled hold. As you kissed it and slowly swallowed the crown of his cock, he howled in ecstasy. The salty taste of him filled your mouth and he wept at the exquisite, wet heat. Jolting with every swirl of your tongue, each lick, and suckle, the delightful vibrations echoing from the back of your throat to his cock.

“Yes!”

His body arched, his signature flickering wildly, and then you truly went to work on him. Wanting to show him exactly how much you had thought of this moment. With each eager motion, you took more of him, brushing off the impending jaw ache. Your master was sprawled on your bed, fervently chanting your name, but coherent words were out of reach. He tasted just perfect, filling your mouth just right. You traced the veins on his cock like an old familiar map, committing every detail to memory. As you slid over his head sucking gently like one would enjoy a sweet treat, his hips surged, and he let out another wild moan of pleasure. 

“Padawan! Padwan! Padawan!” 

But you had more, oh so much more to give him, but you wouldn’t tease him as he had you, you gripped firmly what you couldn’t swallow, and aided by the slickness of your own saliva you stroked and twisted his length in your hand. And your other hand? It didn’t sit idle, no, it reached into his trousers to offer gentle almost tickling caresses to his neglected balls. Lesireuly massaging and softly squeezing. Surely, someone must have heard the moan that tore from his chest, it was primal and almost powerful enough to make you come again. 

The flood of sensations overwhelmed him, a storm of desire and vulnerability that left him at a loss for words. Normally eloquent, his tongue now stumbled in this unfamiliar territory. His disciplined mind, usually a stronghold of wisdom, faltered under the onslaught of passion. Every muscle rebelled against his rational commands, caught in a moment of indecision the muscles of his stomach flexed and contracted wildly. The composed master was briefly overshadowed by raw, primal forces, his tense muscles reflecting the battle of a man surrendering control to overwhelming desire. He became a disheveled mess, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and then tightly shut, breath hitching in short, irregular gasps as if he kept forgetting how to breathe smoothly. His lips clumsily grazed the edge of words, catching and then losing them amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

“Oh! Maker!”

Oh, another word? Impressive. His disciplined nature must be paying off. Using the last bit of strength he had, he propped himself up on his elbows, determined not to miss the spectacle. There you were, between his legs, your lips wrapped around his cock, all slick with your saliva, disappearing into your mouth. It hit the back of your throat in a way that made him shudder from head to toe. He could watch you do that for as long as the stars lit up the sky. It was something else—beautiful, the way you handled his cock like his pleasure belonged to you.

You were determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from him, poised to take him to the brink, so close to tasting him completely, but your mission hit a pause when his hand gently grasped your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze. His needy “Please,” didn’t go unnoticed either. A slender strand of saliva linked your lips to his throbbing length, and the disbelief in his eyes was palpable. It was as if he couldn't fathom witnessing what lay before him. A ragged breath escaped him, followed by a hard swallow. Redirecting your attention from his pulsating, slick arousal, he steered you into a deep, passionate kiss, one you didn't resist.

“Darling, enough foreplay. I need to feel you on my cock. Tell me that’s what you want.” 

His eyes sparkled when you whispered, "I want it, Master," with desire glowing in your own. It made you wonder if anyone had ever been so upfront with him, if anyone had looked into those captivating eyes and just said, "I want you." Had he ever known how it felt to be so openly desired before?

"Good girl, now, up you get." 

He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, surprising you even more because he didn't employ the Force; it was the strength of his own muscles at play. Observing them flex and shift beneath his skin was nearly as gratifying as witnessing him in the throes of pleasure. He held you over his lap for a moment, lips tangling with yours, muttering against them. 

“Look at me, want to see you properly.”

How could you ignore a request like that? Oh, no, you couldn’t. And with a nod from you, he began to release you.

Never had anything felt as exquisite as the moment his cock slid effortlessly into your pussy. The sensation of that satisfying first stretch surpassed any pleasure you had ever known—far superior to the touch of your own fingers, toys, or any previous lover. As gravity took its course, guiding you down onto him, there was nothing left to say or do. Your head rolled back and you moaned his name. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, every ounce of strength dedicated to maintaining control. Surprisingly, his energy remained entirely serene.

The experience was a symphony of wetness, heat, tightness, and perfect slickness. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close, mirroring the way you squeezed his cock. It was perfect. You would ache for this later, he was right, you’d be sore to the touch everywhere he’d touched you but it would be worth it for the exquisite ecstasy you felt right now.

Damn the code, to hell with forbidden attachments; the High Council could go up in flames for all you cared. In this moment, he belonged to you—every inch of him. His response to your body defied description. He was unequivocally yours.

He uttered your name, his mouth tracing up your neck in search of your lips. "Darling, kiss me."

Not padawan, not master. He called you by your name.

Your lips met his, as he’d asked, sweetly, gently as lovers did. The high of shoving your tongue into hi mouth was wonderful but not so wonderful as this simple brushing of lips the added heat and girth of his cock buried in you, there were no more barriers. You kissed him like that for a few minutes until your cunt throbbed demanding more, then you shifted, rising up savoring the way his lips parted in shock before sliding back down slow enough you could see his eyelashes flutter. “Again,” His voice was so full of need and heat, how could you deny him? The warmth of his breath against your skin was like a balm, soothing every ache, alleviating every burden, and imparting tranquility to long-standing wounds.

As his arms encircled your legs, lifting you up to help you along, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. The dichotomy of wanting to sing or cry left you unable to suppress the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His name escaped your lips again.

His arms held you securely, and he buried his face in your neck, releasing a deeply contented breath. With deliberate slowness, he began to thrust upward. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him up for another smoldering kiss, swallowing his moan.

Passion surged like wildfire between you and the man you had yearned for over the years. The connection between your bodies was intense, each thrust an urgent proclamation of desire. The air was thick with the mingling of hot breaths, punctuated by the sound of lewdly slapping skin and fervent kisses exchanged in the throes of lust.

His movements were powerful and rhythmic, and left you gasping for more, all you could do was hang on. With every thrust, he hit that perfect angle that sent shivers through your entire body. The sensation was electric, a tantalizing dance on the precipice of pleasure.

As your breaths intertwined, the shared rhythm hinted at the imminent climax, drawing you both closer to the edge. 

In the throes of passion, your murmurs of his name reverberated against his lips as he quickened the pace, both of you on the precipice of an imminent release. The urgency in your voice only fueled his desire, and he nodded in approval as you moaned: 

"Obi-Wan…"

Encouraged by your compliance, he implored you for more, his hunger evident. "Again, darling, say it again!"

In a cascade of breathless utterances, you willingly complied, chanting his name with increasing fervor. 

"Obi-wan! Obi-wan! Obi-wan!"

With a fluid blend of strength, grace, and skill, he effortlessly tipped you onto your back. The swift change momentarily took you by surprise, but before the disorientation settled, he surged back into you with newfound intensity. Each movement reached deeper, and he committed his entire weight to each forceful thrust, immersing both of you in a realm of heightened pleasure.

His frame shook with each thrust, and with every motion, he felt a piece of himself slipping away, lost in the fervor of the moment. Desperation marked his every move as he teetered on the precipice of oblivion, but determined to hold off just a little longer. The urgency in his actions spoke of a desire to witness you unraveling in the throes of pleasure, to experience the cascade of ecstasy like a tidal wave crashing over him.

His fingers laced with yours, holding a connection that transcended the physical, while his kisses conveyed a hunger that mirrored the intensity of the act. Amid groans and the forceful snap of his hips, he dropped his lips to your ear, breathing hot against your skin.

"Come, darling, come for me!" He moved with an increasingly wild and intense rhythm, his passion reaching new heights. The affectionate term "Padawan" slipped from his lips like a whispered plea, an irresistible command, urging you to surrender to the pleasure he was offering, to climax for your master.

And you did, your body arching in response to the unrelenting intensity, hips bucking wildly against his, meeting his every thrust. Lips locked with his, you welcomed the furious pace he set each time he bottomed out, your bodies entwined in a dance without inhibitions. He threw his weight behind every motion, determined to make you feel every bit of him, to give you everything he had.

His desperate cries of "Padawan!" grew louder in the heated air, a mantra underscoring the intimacy of the moment. The repetition of the endearing term only served to heighten the exquisite pleasure, acknowledging a connection that surpassed the physical act. As he reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, a shudder ran through his entire body, and a helplessly primal howl escaped his lips. The heat of his seed spilling deep within you was the final catalyst, triggering a powerful climax of your own that rocked your entire body.

The Obi-Wan Kenobi you knew, with all his composure and eloquence, had vanished into thin air. In his place was a man, wild and satisfied, fucking you senseless, thrusting his erupting cock hurriedly back into your cunt as though he might die if he stopped. It just kept coming, he thrust harder with each rope you pulled from him until his body had nothing left to give and he began to still after one final hard thrust.

His breaths slowed, and he fought to stay upright. The only thing keeping him from melting into the mattress and pulling you into him entirely was the awareness of your injuries. Thankfully, the pain that had plagued you earlier had quieted down during your passionate love-making, granting a brief moment of relief. His cerulean eyes shifted from the storm of passion to their usual cool and compassionate state. The aftermath unfolded a scene of vulnerability—echoes of shared passion and lingering concerns for your well-being.

He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close, and skillfully rolled both of you onto your sides. With his arm firmly around your waist, he stayed seated, still in your warmth, unwilling to leave it just yet.

In the ensuing silence, the room was filled only with the sounds of your shared and labored breathing. 

"Are you alright?" His voice returned to its soft and warm timbre, the familiar hum that felt like a safe, warm home. When you remained silent, he shifted slightly, concern lacing his words, "Darling, is your leg in any pain?" Despite his own exhaustion, his concern for your well-being was touching. The way he called you darling further added to your sated state, and it made you smile.

"What leg?" 

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, a comforting warmth you hadn't felt in ages. Shifting to a more serious tone, he inquired again about your injuries, but the light-hearted demeanor lingered.

"I don’t care. Ask me in the morning," You replied unbothered, arms wrapping around his neck. Nestling into the comforting warmth of his chest, you threw a leg around his hips, pulling him closer. His gasp of pleasure, maybe mixed with a hint of overstimulation, brought a satisfied smile to your face, ignoring the subtle throb echoing through your body. It was worth it—the pains, the frustrations—just to lie in your master's arms, his cock still buried in you basking in warmth, safety, and a newfound satisfaction.

"Mmm, Master?" You murmured, your voice laced with the weight of drowsiness.

He chuckled bashfully, "Darling, you don't have to call me Master, anymore."

"Just trying to be an obedient padawan," you teased, planting a kiss on the sensitive spot on his neck, earning a delightful twitch from his cock.

"Careful, darling. I still owe you a punishment for abandoning me," He playfully reminded, his words hanging in the air. "What was your question?"

"If I abandon you again, and you happened to find me. Would you follow through with your 'punishment' against the wall on a ship?" 

The recollection of that fantasy, coupled with the echo of his playful threat, coaxed a deep groan from him, as both of you relived those shared fantasies. "Please, Master?" You breathed against his neck, your request underscored by a subtle roll of your hips.

His arm wrapped possessively around you, the warmth of his breath tingling against your ear. A soft growl slipped past his lips, melding with the restrained rhythm of his hips, you could feel him driving into you once more wringing out a moan from your lips. His voice, tinged with both amusement and authority, whispered,

"It seems my Padawan still needs a bit of instruction."

Why, yes, there's more...

~~~

If you would like to see more stuff like this (reader inserts) let me know and let me know if you'd like to join the tag list! For my faithful Obi-Wan content readers! @split-spectrum (you helped inspire this!), @heyhawtdawgs. @pickleprickle @decembermidnight

Alright! I need a cigarette!

[sailforvalinor]

A quick analysis of why Ezra and Thrawn are each other’s perfect nemesis (especially for those who aren’t as familiar with Rebels):

The reason that Thrawn is so dangerous is, of course, not just because of his analytical mind or brilliant battle tactics, but because he takes the time to know his enemy. He understands what all art historians or anyone in the liberal arts can tell you: that art is one of the clearest windows into a society, and studying a society’s art can tell you just as much, if not more than a history book can. Thrawn always takes the time to throughly understand his enemy before he fights them, and that includes the Jedi Ezra Bridger.

The problem is, however, that Ezra is not a typical Jedi. It stands to reason that what Thrawn knows about the Jedi comes from the Jedi Generals in the Clone Wars, who abided by very standard military tactics—and to a point, having fought in the Clone Wars, Kanan Jarrus, Ezra’s master, often used those tactics, and passed some of them on to Ezra. However, since he primarily fought in a small rebel cell, Ezra was primarily a guerrilla fighter. Even when they went on to join the larger Rebellion, Kanan and Ezra often avoided their larger full-scale battles in favor of smaller ops that catered to their talents, only joining large battles when it was absolutely necessary to turn the tables. And though he was a commander, it was actually fairly rare that he led troops into battle like the Jedi generals in the Clone Wars.

Additionally, while early on in his arc he shares some similarities with Anakin and Luke (especially in his struggle to figure out how to protects those he loves without falling to the Dark Side), it becomes apparent by the end of Rebels that he is on the path to becoming a Jedi like Qui-Gon Jinn or Yoda—that is, a Jedi very in-tune with the Living Force. Though he possesses many of the more physical talents we associate with the Jedi—heightened senses, strengthened physical abilities, skill with a lightsaber, etc—his talents have always tended towards the more cerebral (e.g., he was receiving extremely vivid visions of the future while struggling just to levitate an object). One really interesting thing about Rebels is that it often chooses to represent the presence of the Force with a high-pitched whistling sound, one that Ezra quite often seems to hear and let guide his decisions. He is also very prone to receiving extremely vivid Force visions. But the ability he is most known for, especially in Ahsoka, is his ability to connect to living beings. If you were wondering why such a deal is made over the Loth-Cat in episode one, it’s because Loth-Cats have become somewhat of a motif for Ezra, just like the purrgil—they seem to be always around him in Rebels, and serve as a sort of barometer to the audience as to how strong Ezra’s Force abilities are. In season one, they would just pop out and hiss at him every once in awhile, but by season four, they’re all over him—if he stood out in a field and held still for too long he’d just be buried in cats. The same goes for other creatures—he befriends the purrgil early on in the show, and is able to enlist their help in the finale. He’s also so in-tune with the Living Force on his home planet of Lothal that he is approached by Loth-Wolves, mysterious, spiritual beings who weren’t thought to exist outside the realm of myth, and shown a way to use a hyperspace corridor to travel to the other side of the planet.

However, this ability doesn’t just extend to animals—it extends to people, too. It’s like someone poured everything into his charisma stat. He makes friends everywhere he goes, so easily it’s like breathing, and people naturally gravitate towards him and want to help him. (It’s probably why he has made such good friends with those adorable rock people—he just can’t help being forcibly adopted wherever he goes.) The reason he is able to beat Thrawn in the end of Rebels is that he calls in every single favor from all the people he recruited to his side throughout the past four seasons, and when you see everyone on screen—former Imperial cadets, smugglers, deposed military leaders, space wolves, space whales, Clones, etc—it’s then that you realize just what an inspiring leader he is. If Ezra can get Hondo Onaka of all people to join Rebellion, you know he’s got something special.

Not to mention, since Ezra has spoken to and been indirectly trained by a Force being (the Bendu) and was the first on-screen Jedi to discover the World Between Worlds, it’s quite possible that he understands the Living Force better, or at least in a very different way, than most Jedi within the Order did.

To sum it all up, Ezra is just so different, so unconventional, both as a military leader and as a Jedi, that Thrawn, for all his military prowess, doesn’t know what to do with him. He is absolutely unpredictable, because he always abides by the will of the Force, something Thrawn is completely unable to get access to or understand. I always think of them when I see this meme:

because it’s almost quite literally what happens in the Rebels finale. Thrawn has pulled off a seemingly infallible maneuver, the Rebels are completely pinned-down, their resources are maxed-out, and he knows they will not risk the deaths of civilians. Ezra gives himself up, and he thinks he’s won. But then what does Ezra do? He summons a flock of purrgil who drag him, along with his entire Star Destroyer, into hyperspace and jump to another galaxy. How on earth could Thrawn have even predicted that? And even if he had known Ezra’s plan, what could he have even done?

That’s why Thrawn is so eager to kill Ezra in Ahsoka. Something tells me that he’s been hunting him in these ten years we haven’t seen them—because he knows that this one man is far more dangerous than anything waiting for him in the galaxy he is preparing to invade.

[antianakin]

I think it's so funny that there's this widespread headcanon that Anakin loves droids and droids love him because it just... has no basis in canon. Anakin likes ONE DROID throughout all of the time we see him and that's R2. He barely manages to tolerate C-3PO despite having literally programmed him, and Padme treats C-3PO with more compassion and respect than Anakin generally does. When R2 is thought lost, Anakin treats the replacement droid like shit (yes, that droid ended up a spy but Anakin doesn't know that and that's not why he treats the new droid like shit). Anakin is also shown to be a lot quicker to mow down battle droids that aren't attacking him than Obi-Wan is. He's never shown actively caring about droids in general, just ONE droid. There's nothing to prove he cares about droids as a matter of principle, either, he just happens to like R2.

By contrast, the Jedi are often headcanoned as being dismissive of droids (and sometimes as dismissive of Anakin for caring about them), when there's multiple examples of this being untrue. Ahsoka obviously also likes R2 and considers him a friend, but she's just as quick to treat his replacement well and with the same level of kindness she gave to R2. Mace makes an offer of peace to the battledroids after THREE YEARS of battle with them. And of course then there's Master Huyang, who literally holds the rank of Master within the Jedi Order because they value his knowledge of lightsaber construction so highly, and all of the Jedi are taught to treat him with the respect that deserves and they initiates all work really hard to ensure that he ALSO makes it out of Hondo's attack alive and refuse to just leave him behind.

So I feel like we should be seeing fewer storylines involving Anakin being the only person who cares about droids and the Jedi chastising him for it, and more storylines involving the Jedi literally having to remind him to respect and care for other droids, yes, even if they're annoying sometimes, yes, even if they seem broken or useless, yes, the Force flows through them too even if it feels different.

[hardlyinteresting]

No request for this one but I was thinking about Aaron as a dad

Hotch does his absolute best to be a good example for Jack. He does his best to be kind, forgiving, and respectful of those around him. He tries to teach Jack how to be strong and resilient, but he never wants his child to grow up to be jaded or hardened to the world.

He promised Haley that he would tell Jack about them, but more importantly he promised to teach Jack about love. To show him love. Aaron never hesitates to answer any of Jack’s questions about Haley, or how they met. He appreciates the trip down memory lane too sometimes, regardless of the way they parted, Aaron is grateful for the opportunity to relive the good. It's a brief relief from the memory of the day she died.

Aaron also moves on. He finds love again. Haley had broken his heart long before her death. And that's the truth he has to accept to go forward in his life. He slowly but surely learns to let go of the guilt that he's been carrying. He tries to open himself up again. He's not the same as he was before Haley, but he's doing his best. He needs to believe that he's worth it, that love is worth it. Aaron is a firm believer in leading by example, and practicing what you preach. He needs to believe in love if he's going to teach Jack to do the same.

Aaron calls things beautiful. He calls you beautiful around Jack. He’ll say “it's a beautiful day” when he's out on walks or at the park with the boy. And on a regular basis he compliments Jack’s latest artworks “that's awesome, buddy. I like what you did with the blue paint over her. Another beautiful work,” he smiles at his son, “should we put it up on the fridge?”

If Aaron is lucky enough to be the father of any other children after Jack he worries about spending enough time with all of them. There never seemed to be enough hours in a day even when it was just Jack. He never wants his children to feel like they're wanting for his attention or his love. When he's home he belongs to his family and he wouldn't want it any other way.

Hanging out with kiddos and getting a chance to just let go and be silly, being subjected to childhood logics, (“ah yes, of course how silly of me, of course you have magically powers that help you see dragons, how could I ever forget?”), and seeing the world through eyes of his kids helps heal his own inner child. Nothing else matters for a moment outside of lightsaber battles, or tea parties. He's reminded of the innocence he once had. He was forced to grow up too quickly, and his career, and life since then have only stripped any last bit of science from him. he's proud to offer his kids a childhood where they can hold on to theirs.

Aaron is the number one bandage-er of boo boos and banisher of bad dreams. He buys fun bandaids. And he always presses a kiss to them after they're applied. (I don't make the rules. This is just 100% true). He always does voices when he reads bedtime stories, and there's not a single nightmare he can't scare away.

Send requests

[muxshwriting]

talk

Anakin Skywalker x reader (Orpheus and Eurydice retelling)

summary: the greatest love story ever told, that's simultaneously the most tragic || summary: angst, main character death, a lot of death || word count: 1773 || masterlist

There have been many great love stories throughout the centuries, but none were more famous than the tragic tale of Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Y/N. And it begins with her death.

The urge began with a voice pounding at the back of his mind from the moment he had found your body. With every second it grew louder and louder until it was sounding off like a cannon in his brain.

"I'm going to the underworld."

It was a short and direct statement.

Obi-Wan's face paled. "You can't be serious Anakin! That's reckless and dangerous. You're writing your own death warrant."

"I'm rewriting hers." He argued.

"This is insanity!" Obi-Wan cried.

Anakin turned away. "Don't try and stop me. I'm going either way."

His mind was set, there was no change Obi-Wan would be able to find. He walked for days and nights, battling against those who tried to stop him on his journey. Nothing would stop him from getting to you.

The darkness didn’t bother Anakin as he walked, his eyes were set on a goal far ahead. All he could think was that you were alone and probably scared. He needed to get to you. No one had made this journey before, it had been fabled but never done. His journey seemed never ending but Anakin persevered, kept his head down, his plan secret.

On the nights when all hope seemed lost, when the thoughts echoed through his head and told him he couldn’t save you, he push on. It was your voice that rang through his head the mornings after those thoughts. It was a simple whisper, a murmur that you were walking with him and waiting for him on the other side, that you loved him and always would.

After a forever of walking, Anakin was standing outside the gates to the underworld. His journey here had been challenging but to travel through the underworld would be nigh on impossible.

His eyes were trained to the ground as he ignored the screams of damned souls and the cries of condemned asking for salvation. Every step meant he was closer to you, every step was a step closer to your freedom. His hood stayed drawn over his head and his robe was wrapped tightly around him. His lightsaber would be useless here and so he didn’t even bother having it easy to hand. Drawing a weapon in Hades’ domain wouldn’t be wise, anyone could tell you that.

The halls of the Underworld were enormous, rising above his head to the heavens with pits of fire. Hades sat upon his throne, watching the young Jedi enter his halls and slowly approach.

"Anakin Skywalker." He sneered slightly.

Anakin found the courage to meet the King’s eyes. He noticed the slight redness to them no one had discussed before. Beside him sat his wife, Persephone, on a throne of her own, looking like she owned the Underworld. Or course, she did but no one would say that in front of Hades. Even if they did, he would probably agree before ending their life.

"What brings the Chosen One to my domain?" Hades asked but Anakin knew better than to answer. "The Hero with No Fear has come to beg me for a soul, no?"

Persephone reached over and placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. He met her eyes and instantly softened.

"My wife has taken a liking to you boy. Perhaps you will entertain me for a while."

Anakin swallowed his fear and stood a little straighter, "I come here seeking my love, she was taken too soon, as many are. But she deserved a better life than what she was given. And I didn’t care if they called me crazy, if there was a chance I could get her that life, I was going to try." He took the chance to read their expressions for a moment. Persephone looked proud while Hades seemed perplexed. He continued, "When she’s with me, my world is complete, because it is her. I dread to think the kind of person I would be if she was not beside me and I fear for my future without her alive. My heart will darken and grow evil without her light to ward to away the shadows."

"Go on…"

"I walked here, my head to the ground, my name unspoken. I walked through the Underworld for the chance to see my wife and hold her in my arms once more. Perhaps she has passed on, choosing a greater life than what I could provide. But even if I came her in vain and I never leave again, I know I tried. I did not sit idly and ponder what might have been, I tried even if I fail. I have nothing to lose because she was everything and I lost her."

Hades was silent as two guards entered the hall and began to drag Anakin away. He let himself be taken, refusing to look away from the rulers face. He watched as Hades put his head in his hand. Persephone comforted him, reaching a hand for his face and her other for his. Then the doors slammed shut and Anakin was left with his thoughts once more.

He lost count of the number of steps he was dragged down, the people he passed. But then there was a cage surrounded by a dozen others all empty except one. A cage with you inside.

His strength returned and he had freed himself in an instant running to you with a shout of your name. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Anakin, your Anakin was standing in front of you in the Underworld. He had journeyed to the Underworld for you.

"Yes! I’m alright, what are you doing here?"

"Bringing you home."

"Anakin-"

The cage between you two barely mattered as you pressed your lips to his between the bars. You hand intertwined with one another, holding on as tightly as you could. You had lost each other once, you would not lose each other again so easily.

"I love you." You confess. You’d said it to him many time before but never with such reverence as you did now. "I love you Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin’s eyes shined with tears, "It’s a long journey back, dangerous and cold."

"I’ll walk with you every step of the way." You promised. "You’ll never be alone."

Behind Anakin, Hades had arrived, his Queen only a few steps behind. Tentatively he turned to them, his hands still gripping yours. "Can we leave?"

In truth, Hades had no answer. He had come down the deepest dungeons to talk with you and Anakin and he had done so without an answer.

If he said no, he was just as heartless as the tales say he is. He would have no compassion for a man and his wife and the love they shared. He would be a hypocrite and his own wife would never quite forgive him. If he said yes, he would be doing something never done before. He had no moral code, no rules for the Underworld. He would be governing a lawless realm where people could come and go as they pleased.

He was damned either way.

The reality was this: Hades would let them go under the conditions he would set. Yes, he would be a forgiving and understanding King who knew the perfect punishment for any who demanded anything of him. Anakin Skywalker, the leader would walk ahead of his wife all the way out of the Underworld. And if he looked back to check she was following, she would be dragged back down into the depths.

She is out of sight, he is out of his mind. Anakin would foolishly agree, doing anything to have her back, not realising what he’s truly agreed to.

Since agreeing to Hades’ terms, you and Anakin hadn’t looked away from each other.

"Are you ready?" He asked you.

Silently, you nod. Anakin takes a steadying breath, his hands brushed against yours as you held one to your chest, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He squeezed his eyes shut and span on his heels, beginning the long walk without you by his side.

The world went silent as your hand slipped from his and he felt utterly alone. He took the first step, trusting you would be right behind him.

As he walked, his footsteps echoed through the Underworld. But what tore his heart into pieces was the lack of your footsteps echoing behind him. He resisted the urge every single day to glance back at you. He prayed this was a part of Hades’ sick terms, that he would be unable to tell if you were behind him until you were out. A few days into the journey, he had started talking to you. It began as a quiet beg that you were still there, a promise he believed, a proclamation of his love. It had escalated when he received no response.

Behind him, you were never more than three steps behind. You heard every word that he said, unable to respond, unable to reach out. More often than not, you would be walking with tears streaming down your face, praying that Anakin would stay strong enough to get you both out.

You both ignored the pain in your feet and in your hearts as the end of the Underworld grew closer. When one morning, you felt the sun on your face for the first time in weeks as the exit was just ahead of you. Anakin’s pace remained steady but his steps seemed more sure, a quiet optimism. You let yourself smile, you were getting out.

The shuddering breath Anakin made as he stepped over the threshold made you almost weep with delight. But then he turns and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. You glance to the floor and your worst fears are confirmed.

"Y/N." He breathes your name in a way that makes his love clear as day.

"Anakin…" Your face has fallen as you look at him with nothing but despair.

You see him glance down at where you’re standing, just inside the threshold of the Underworld. He had turns too early. You hadn’t had time to get out. He hadn’t thought… he just needed to see you after so long.

Through your tears, you muster up a smile for him, "I love you."

You feel your soul being wrenched backwards as you tumble backwards, down, down, down back to your cage in Hades’ town. It was all for nothing.

[calamiitywrites]

— qimir x reader

trigger warning: graphic scenes and descriptions of violence, blood and death. please proceed with caution.

request via ask: "I actually would like to request a one shot or maybe even a story where the reader ( or an oc doesn't matter ) is hunting Jedi for her own reasons and is on her way to becoming a sith, but she's terrified of her force because it's not only powerful, but full of rage so needless to say it stems from the dark side. I don't want her to replace Osha or Mae, in fact I want them included in the story. however, I do want Qimir to end up teaching this character. Add some seduction of course, some mystery and I want it from the character's pov. I know this idea is all over the place and I'm not giving you much to work with but I would definitely like to see him interact with this character who could learn a lot from him but has the potential to be a stand alone character herself."

note from author: I think I understand the gist of what you're requesting so I will definitely interpret it in my own way. Please let me know if this is what you had in mind :) also, sorry it's so long, I had to introduce the character first haha!- calamiity

There's a distant hum that tickles at her brainstem and finds itself traveling down to the pit of her stomach. she should be weary of this sensation because it was nothing more than the force riddling through her body. decorating her veins in a fire that could coat the 7 levels of hell in different degrees of flame. What kind of beast had she become to worship a power that made her feel this way? The moonlight, a silvered blade slicing through the night did nothing to hide her or shield the outside world from seeing what she truly was, a beast in human form. it whispered to the stars about her, but the sky was her only companion. Without judgement, It listened to her battle cries and the pleas of the Jedi that she cut down mercilessly. Crimson clung to her robes and dripped slowly down the exposed pieces of her face outlined by the fabric that covered her nose and lips. the deep red of it was in complete contrast to the darkness reflected in her irises. She had allowed the force to nearly consume her from the inside out and the eerie abundance of obsidian that nearly took over her entire vision told her that she had gone too far tonight. Her power — a forbidden curse with a seductive allure. The force must be exercised and properly managed, but the emotions beneath the surface of her consciousness were far too powerful for tradition. Wrath, Loss, Pain and Vengeance. They all danced the danse macabre within her soul, drenching it in affliction. there was no turning back now. Her veins were like molten lava, but they were chilled by the sound of the whimpering jedi that lay at her feet. Before she could stop herself, her eyes wandered to the delicate skin under his chin and she could feel the power of the force expand and contract around his throat. It took half of a second for her to realize that he was choking. a gentle tilt of her head was the only give away to her true curiosity. could she really end his life this way? how long would it take? A thread, a piercing silver stream of light slid through the forefront of her mind and she followed it. It broke off to her left and her eyes caught movement behind the shop window that sat uncloaked. It occurred to her that the 4 jedi she had murdered in front of the shop window was witnessed by someone. rather or not she was wearing a mask didn't matter, the idea of being seen in her most volatile state nearly made her shutter. however, there was no turning back now. With the distraction of the hidden bystander, the once choking jedi had gotten up and began sneaking away. She couldn't let that happen. Refocusing, she retrieved his lightsaber and ignited it with deliberate slowness. Aligning her gaze with his position, she extended her left arm to match his height, letting the dark blue blade hover above her other hand. Once she was certain of her aim, she harnessed the Force and propelled his saber like an arrow. It flew straight and true, embedding itself in the center of his back and causing him to collapse lifelessly where he stood. She turned back to the glass in search of the movement that she had seen before, but there was nothing. although she was sure that the person was still there, there was no reason to pursue them. instead, she flexed her force once more to create a smoke screen and vanish into the night where she had come. The night’s embrace was both her refuge and her torment, and as the echoes of her power faded into the void, she was left with the haunting realization that the greatest battle she would ever face was not against her foes, but against the seduction of her own darkness.

Her ragged gasps were the only thing that filled her ears as she removed the bloodstained robes that clung to her skin. A bath would do her some good, but it wasn’t until she was completely bare that she noticed the weight missing from her belt—the sai dagger made from cortosis was gone. Panic surged through her as she realized she must have dropped it during the chaos. however, she couldn't go back to that shop now. the bystander from before had already seen her cloaked figure, if she chanced it now then he would most likely get a glimpse of her. her best bet would be to return in the morning disguised as a merchant.

At first light she followed through with her plan to return to the shop where she had committed the atrocities from the night prior. it was strange to see that the fallen jedi had been removed, the ground cleaned and the sound of murmuring voices questioning if the chaos they heard about last night was even real. "I heard it was a rumor." said one store vendor. "No way, there have been many Jedi killings over the past few days. You heard about that cloaked figure that went after Indara a few nights back?" another spoke.

She paused for a brief moment at the name, she had never killed a jedi named Indara....perhaps there was another seeking out revenge? either way, it made her job easier. one less monkey for the zoo.

"I heard it was a drunk bar fight that went wrong and that they turned on each other." she chimed in. if everyone was going to put out some gossip, she might as well add her tidbit to throw them off a bit.

"There have been a lot of them spotted at the pub lately." the older woman agreed.

She hid the half hearted smile that graced her lips when she turned away from them, but her heart sank as she locked eyes with her missing dagger prominently displayed, as if it were for sale, in the window of the shop from last night. The idea of it being displayed as a trinket for someone to snag it nearly made her mouth run dry. She knew she had to retrieve it before the blade—or its significance—fell into the wrong hands. but how?

[demontonic]

Hayden Christensen - The first time

H.C x actor reader

In which you try to avoid him during training but it’s useless when Ewan puts you up against each other in a friendly match.

Word Count: 2099 words (que spiderman theme song. IM NOT JOKING THIS IS THE ACTUALLY COUNT)

You were new to the industry, you had only been in two movies thus far. The first one wasn’t big, it was just an indie film that horror movie nerds happened to like. From there you got picked for an audition for a bigger movie that would be put in a few theaters. However here, now, you’d never really expected such a huge change, you weren’t going to be playing a huge part. It was a flashback for the upcoming series Ahsoka, you were going to be a Jedi for a short time. They were doing another scene for order 66 in which Anakin goes against someone whom he’d become acquainted with during training. A battle was to be choreographed which meant you were going to be up against the actor who had single handedly started your acting career.

You were a huge Star Wars fan and without a doubt one of the kids who had lightsabers and a few Clone Wars coloring books. As you got older you looked into Anakin’s actor Hayden Christensen and grew to love the movies he’d done. Of course you thought he was hot, who wouldn’t love the nerd in Shattered Glass, or the punk in Life as a House? Sure he’s older now but that didn’t stop you from absolutely freezing up the second you walked into the training area. He’s significantly taller than you, that much you already knew but now it made you feel even more anxious. Interviews of him (which you of course obsessed over in your younger years) depicted him to be very nice, but you can’t always judge someone based on their interviews.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself as you placed your hand to your cheek.

“Are you okay?” The trainer had questioned, a slight concern showing on her face. Hayden had also looked to you, the thin lightsaber prop swinging effortlessly to his side as he awaited your answer.

“Uh- Sorry I just got a… um- a headache is all.” You lied while your hands gripped onto the prop like it was the only thing grounding you.

“I have tylenol in my bag, or some water if you want?” Hayden’s hands gesture over to the black backpack that was leaned against the wall next to yours. Your throat ran dry as you opened your mouth to speak, before choking on your words and coughing… quite literally choking on your words.

“Yeah, the water should be fine.” Hayden walked over to his bag before pulling out two bottles and handing one to you. He stood there however as you took a small sip and placed it back down.

“Nervous?” He snickered lowly while he waited for you to collect yourself.

“Pfft… can you tell?” You questioned softly, looking up at his sparkling blue eyes. My god you’d dreamed about meeting him for practically half your life, but all you did was fumble. The casting crew never really gave you a lot of information, just that it was for upcoming Star Wars content and that they’d needed to fill a small jedi role. Nothing could’ve mentally prepared you to meet your living, breathing, wet dream.

“It’s just training right now, so there’s really no need to stress, we can all help you learn everything you’ll need to know.” His voice was so calm and endearing, maybe it was the daddy issues talking or the fact he is a dad, but it was so comforting.

Even three months into your training you’d distanced from Hayden as to not make a complete fool of yourself. He’s almost 40 at this point with a child you’d assume he was tired of the wild fans. Even so during training you’d often slip up while your eyes were trained on his swift movements. Sometimes you guys would get together and have little matches to see who could win. It was a random pick or whoever decided to challenge someone, and it was no different today. Everyone had finished training but the energy had been so vibrant that here you were on the cushioned floor in a circle. At this point it was no secret your character and Anakin were to have a final battle, but you had never gone against each other in these matches.

“Okay before we start, would anyone like to call someone out?” Rosario Dawson, Hayden’s childhood friend who’d been training for a separate project, questioned the small group.

“This isn’t a call out but I’d actually like to see Hayden vs Y/N without their choreography.” Ewan suggested while sitting on the blue mat cross legged, a childlike smile on his face. On one hand you were a shell of a human around Hayden, but with Ewan it was like he was your favorite uncle. Had you at some point in time found him incomprehensibly attractive? Yeah, but he’s the kind of nice that makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

“Oh come on, is that even fair?” You whined, alluding to the obvious experience points he had on you.

“Are you calling me old?” Hayden jokes lightly as he steps forward into the circle, the group collectively letting out a low ‘oooooooh’.

“I mean your character is the chosen one, I don’t know if my three months of training can compare.” In all honesty you had tried your hand occasionally at a lightsaber when you were younger, so you had a little bit more experience than you let on. The amount of times you’d watched the behind the scenes,their practicing and training helped you recognize his moves.

“I’ll go easy on you, how about that?” His arms were outstretched to his sides in a shrug. A smirk was playing on his lips as he stared at you expectantly.

“Easy? Okay Christensen I’ll fight you.” Competitive couldn’t even begin to describe the drive that suddenly pumped through your veins. The way his eyes zeroed in on you, and the familiar smirk you had only dreamed of seeing in person made your adrenaline kick in. All the information you’d ever retained while watching those extras, would finally be useful for more than proving a point in a dumb argument online.

“Let’s not forget who’s had more training.” Hayden said with a scoff as you both got into your beginning stances. Yours mimicking the form Obi-Wan took while fighting Grievous, Ewan didn’t miss it, how could he? He simply stood with his left foot pointing towards you, his right braced for a sprint, and his saber behind him ready for a strike. You were reading him like a billboard, he never strayed from the forms he was taught, but you were a fan with too much time so you had a few of your own moves.

“May the force be with you Master Skywalker.” You said before he charged, you dodged the first strike but he had already begun to recover from the miss. A huff came from his chest as he swung the flimsy pole back down, meeting yours with a loud clash. The group let out sounds of shock and excitement as he pushed you down to one knee, he was stronger than you. It was no secret as height wise he’s an entire foot taller than you, so you quickly rolled from your position in front of him. He stumbled forward slightly, then twisted around to meet your blows. One to the head, down to the legs, up to the arm, then back down to his torso since it would be an awkward position for him to hold. You were both fast, you’d spent so much time learning basic defense in case one of you made a mistake it was too easy. Stamina was probably the only way you’d win this, or so you thought.

“You’ve learned well, young one,” he tripped you up, while you were focused on his words he’d hit you with the same move Anakin used on count Dooku. “although you’re too focused on me,” your ‘saber’ swung upward to slash his torso, but with a small step back, he dropped the pole to his open palm.

“And not my hands.”

“Fuck.”

The cool, thin, dented metal was up against the side of your neck as your arms were still tilted up in your last strike. Heavy breaths left the both of you as your small ‘audience’ went silent. The sound of your pole hitting the mat, signaled your defeat and in true style you dropped to the floor. The room erupted with groans and yells of victory from those who bet on Hayden. A few seconds of lying on the floor Hayden walked over, standing above you holding out his hand.

“Come on loser.” His smile was so genuine it made your face blush softly as you rolled onto your back.

“I can’t, I’m dead, rigor mortis.” You mumble, letting your tongue hang out the side of your mouth. You felt two arms scoot under your back and knees, quickly feeling your body lifted into the air. A scream came out of your throat as your hand quickly gripped onto Hayden’s loose shirt. The group laughed as he basically tossed you up and down, pretending like he was going to drop you.

“I don’t know why you’re screaming! Dead people don’t scream!”

“Oh- OH MY- PLEASE! GOD PLEASE! OBI WAN PLEASE!” He’d even managed to flip you on your stomach, your fingertips almost meeting the ground before he flung you back up again. Sure it wasn’t a crazt high distance from his arms, but add that with his height it was terrifying enough.

“So uncivilized!” Ewan mocked in a bad Obi-Wan voice, Hayden finally held you against his chest as he laughed with the rest of the group. Ewan came over with Rosario, both of them cooing softly at your semi panicked state.

“Put the poor girl down already!”

“She’s as red as a tomato Hayden!”

He let you down to your feet, still holding onto you as you stumbled lightly. Your chest heaved as you rested your hands on your knees, completely oblivious to how you practically pushed against Hayden’s crotch. His hand came down to rest on your lower back, rubbing softly while you regained your breath.

“I’m-… I’ll kill you for that one day Christensen.” You said through heavy breaths before standing straight again. Hayden’s hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, sporting a smug smile as the group began to discuss the next match. Hayden pulled you off the far walls where your bags lay, you both sitting in front of each other while he pulled out water bottles. For a while you sat in silence, just leaning against the wall watching Rosario and Ewan go at it.

“Were you ever going to tell me about your tattoo?” Hayden questioned, his voice staying low in contrast with the yelling from the group. At first you almost didn’t know what he was talking about, but then your cheeks turned to a dark red. On your wrist was the japor snippet Anakin gave Padme when they first met, and under it read ‘Skywalker’ in Huttese. Usually it was covered by a scrunchie or bracelet, but it must’ve slipped your mind today.

“I wasn’t planning on it, it feels too embarrassing to show you.” You held your arm out to him, since he’d already seen it there was no use in hiding it now. His hand pulled your wrist closer as he traced it with his fingers.

“I always wanted to get a replica of the japor snippet but I never did. I think this is really cool Y/N, you don’t need to be so nervous around me all the time.” He said quietly as he set your arm down on your thigh. Hayden was nice, but you were feral, you still couldn’t grasp the fact you avoided him like a schoolgirl avoided her crush.

“I-… I am not! The job is just so… overwhelming you know?” Lies, you shook as bad as a chihuahua when you were alone with him, practicing lines, fighting, and in general.

“It’s been three months and you still get distracted by just staring at me mid-fight.” A chuckle resonated in his chest as you looked at your blushing face.

“Okay… I just didn’t want to look like some nerdy, obsessed fangirl, I didn’t know how well that would go over.” Holding the cool bottle against your face you let your hair shield your face from the older man.

“I think it’s cute.”

And for the first time, you felt like maybe the star would align, maybe you would have a chance with the man you’d worshipped during your teen years.

I need to be his controversially young girlfriend HIS BIRTHDAY IS THE DAY AFTER MINE idk i think its a sign or whatever🤞🏼 hope you liked this! feel free to make any requests! i might make a part two but idk yet

Masterlist

[dontbelasagnax]

OMG CAN I DO A PROMPT FOR THE KISS ROULETTE???

No pressure BUT I number 35. Kiss against a wall would make me go FERAL.

Bonus points if it's in some hidden corner and they're trying to sneak away after a hard won battle because the codywan brain rot has GOT ME. I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT THEM

Please pretend like you sent this ask recently and I haven't been sitting on it for months waiting for my eggs to hatch @why-cant-turtles-fly 😂 As requested, here is codywan kissing against a wall... though it's actually a pillar (oops). I was inspired by this artwork I did!

Pairing: CC-22224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2,330

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Tenderness, Making Out, Introspection, and by that I mean Obi-Wan is mentally ill and thinks too much, Implied Sexual Content, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary:

    "Missing something?" Cody wiggles a certain lightsaber in his hand as he closes the distance of only a couple meters.

    "More than one thing, it seems," Obi-Wan replies.

    [ OR: Obi-Wan and Cody steal away some precious time after a victorious battle which of course results in a makeout session against a pillar. ]

(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)

This morning Obi-Wan finds himself in the ruins of a long ago abandoned castle, high in the mountainous region of Bestoon's northernmost continent. However difficult the altitude makes it to breathe unassisted, it's worth it for the view. There isn't much he loves looking at more than a sunrise in the clouds.

The sunrise after a well earned victory in battle has become one of Obi-Wan's favorite moments to find peace these last few months or... has it been years? Time has melted together through this dreary drudge of a war.

He's watched this sky transition from dusky purples splashed with rays of golden sunlight to a pale blue canvas with clouds shadowed with purples leaning grey and highlights of soft pinks and yellows.

"Sir," a very familiar voice calls from behind. 

Obi-Wan turns towards the voice. 

'Ah,' Obi-Wan thinks, a smile already beginning to emerge on his features, 'my dearest commander.'

The light of the sky washes Cody in diffused golds and pinks. He is delightfully dressed down, forgoing his armour from the waist up. The tight, ribbed fabric does his physique all the favors the way it clings. A stray curl drops onto his forehead. The lighting does wonders for his complexion. It's as if he's glowing.

Yes, Cody bathed in the light of a new day is the most breathtaking, glorious view of them all.

"Missing something?" Cody wiggles a certain lightsaber in his hand as he closes the distance of only a couple meters. 

"More than one thing, it seems," Obi-Wan replies as he takes the lightsaber held out to him. The metal is heated from the rare touch of Cody's bare hand. Energy thrums from the kyber, a slow pulse that nearly sparkles, sending the residual heat of skin and life up Obi-Wan's arm, straight to his ever beating heart. 

So helpful his kyber crystal is, giving fuel to the flame of his infatuation that, once a slow burn, is steadily alight.

Cody leans back against the pillar, looks at him with those warm, big brown eyes of his and oh…

Obi-Wan steps into Cody's space.

Cody's sharp inhale and the way his hand comes up to touch Obi-Wan's belly is exactly what he wanted. 

Obi-Wan rests his arm beside Cody's head on the stone, bringing his face close enough to just feel Cody's breath on the whiskers of his beard.

Thick, black lashes fluttering downwards then back up. The want in those gorgeous eyes is magnetizing.

Obeying Cody's gravitational pull, Obi-Wan kisses him. The catch of their lips slow and tender, just a hint of saliva and suction, loving the warm nudge of Cody's nose against his cheek, and the bloom of Cody's Force presence like flowers turning to the morning sun. 

"Well done," Obi-Wan murmurs as he pulls away, chasing the wounded noise Cody makes with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your performance was stellar today, as always. Always."

Obi-Wan clips his lightsaber to his belt and cups his darling's jaw with his newly freed hand. He sighs into the meeting of their lips. The soft warm comfort of Cody's mouth is offset by the rigidity of his armour below the waist. It’s as accurate a representation of Cody’s true self as it gets: compassionate and sweet while still deadly and unwieldy.

Though, as much as Obi-Wan adores this version of Cody—so delectable in only his codpiece, cuisse, and greaves—he’d selfishly prefer him stripped even further. 

Alas, he's getting ahead of himself.

Cody's arms curl around him, hands clenching in his tabards. Their lips make smacking noises with the separation of each slow, deliberate kiss.

It's with a bittersweet ache in his chest that Obi-Wan cherishes these moments for he never knows what the next day will bring. The reality of war is that any second of any day he could lose Cody and he'll never know another day painted warm and vibrant by Cody's dry humor and barely-there smiles, the rare times when Obi-Wan can make him really laugh and hear joy spring from his soul, the quiet steady companionship of his presence, and the compassion he shows his brothers. One day he'll never know another kiss, another pleasure coated sigh of his own name, or feel the needy way Cody curves his entire body into Obi-Wan’s to get what he wants. 

It is possible that Obi-Wan would be the one to go first but… he knows deep down, and has accepted it with peace, that he's meant for infinite sadness. 

He already nearly lost him that first time- the time Cody first kissed him.

However long Cody is willing to share these hidden pockets of love with him, he will cherish every second they have together.

He emphasizes this thought with a purposeful tug and suck of Cody’s bottom lip before pulling away to breathe. The thinner air at this altitude has them panting against each other, lips grazing slightly, a sensitive tingly, ticklish tease.

Cody rubs their noses together, as if trying to grasp any sort of intimacy he can while recovering his breath.

Obi-Wan’s heart squeezes painfully.

Never let it be said lest Cody try to kill him in his sleep… but Cody is not just a sweet, sweet man but adorable.

 Natural as the mist of cloudy mornings, Obi-Wan kisses him again. 

Everything about this is intentional. From the way he slowly draws their mouths together again and again, pace languid and savoring, to the way they've chosen each other- chosen to find these moments to do nothing but love. It's not a choice, really, that they will choose duty over each other if that's what it comes to. That's simply the reality of their existences. Those priorities will never change, not with how the war has molded them into thinking. 

No, the choosing is in the love. 

He does love Cody and perhaps always will. It's not been said. Nor does he know with absolute certainty that Cody feels the same.

Cody's presence in the Force has always been a bit of a comfort for Obi-Wan since they met. Through all the uncertainty and pain in the galaxy, Cody is sturdy and shines. He's not certain when Cody’s signature began emanating a warmth that curls into his chest and makes him feel at home. It could be that with time and the development of Obi-Wan's own feelings, every aspect of Cody became beyond endearing.

Or… it could be the manifestation of Cody's own feelings for Obi-Wan.

He's not certain. And he's very well not going to ask.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't.

Still, he catches quick moments sometimes out the corner of his eye where Cody looks at him with an impossibly soft look on his face and Obi-Wan thinks, 'Maybe-’

Really. It doesn't matter. 

He has Cody so readily in the cradle of his arms, drinking up every milliliter of affection bestowed upon him.

And, well, his train of thought falls to the wayside when Cody moans into his mouth and tries to drag him even closer between the v of his legs. 

He's not sure exactly what he’s done to make Cody react so positively but he goes with the motion as heat burns deep in his abdomen.

He teases at Cody's lips with his tongue and realizes his fault when Cody instantly opens his mouth and deepens the kiss. The inside of Cody's mouth is hot and wet and his tongue- licking all those spots that make Obi-Wan shudder into him. 

Not that it's not lovely—because it is, really—but this is not how he intended things to go. 

Cody's insistent against him, pressing for more, hotter, faster, harder.

With difficulty, Obi-Wan pulls away, dodging Cody's attempts to meld their mouths together. 

“Cody, dearheart,” he says, out of breath, thumb gently stroking the skin by the corner of Cody's mouth, “you don't need to devour me.”

Cody doesn't quite pout but it's a near thing. The way his eyes are glued to Obi-Wan's lips make tooka-eyes impossible. “Remains to be seen.”

Obi-Wan huffs a laugh and kisses his cheek. “Please, my-” he catches himself almost saying ‘love’, “dear. Just for now. Let me treat you softly.”

Cody considers this solemnly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nods.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Good man.”

The bob of Cody's throat at his words is gratifying. 

He closes his eyes and leans back in to capture Cody's lips for a few slow, lingering kisses. 

“That’s it. Easy goes,” Obi-Wan murmurs between kisses. Cody melts underneath him, pliant and accepting. 

He'll take every rare opportune moment to treat Cody like the indulgence he is– truly savor him. Hot plush lips between his own, a smooth glide aided by saliva. Slow and steady. Discovering how electric and titillating the simplicity is. Just Cody's warm body against his own. Cody's lips. Cody's sighs. Cody…

He's the sweetest of luxuries. And he should be cherished accordingly. 

Obi-Wan plants a path of kisses up Cody's cheek, right to the end of his brow, following the raised skin of his facial scar.

He's wondered if anyone else has gotten to love Cody like he has or if he's the only one to ply him with tender affection. He's wondered if, in a kinder universe, Cody would be left free of the scars Obi-Wan has gotten to know so intimately. If there were a universe as such, would Obi-Wan be given the chance to love Cody all over again or if another is destined for him- someone closer to his age and able to devote their life to ensuring his happiness.

He's tied himself into knots over this. The hypotheticals. 

He loves Cody. He loves him easily, unhurried and unconditionally. He loves him with every breath he shares loving the Jedi Order—his family—and this wonderous Force-filled world they live in. 

It's just that. He does not love Cody more than the order, more than his faith and his family. Cody is a part of his life. Whatever comes next, may it be death or freedom or- well, Force knows what, Obi-Wan hopes Cody remains a constant. Selfishly. More than a little lovesick. He wants Cody in his life. But he will accept whatever comes their way, as it is the will of the Force. 

 And if that means-

“Where'd’ya keep going?” asks Cody, big brown eyes of his gazing into Obi-Wan's soulfully. A deep brown that melts into a warm, rich amber. Beautiful.

“Nowhere of consequence.” He rubs his nose along Cody’s cheek. Breathes him in. 

“You sure?”

Obi-Wan drags his lips down Cody's jaw, smiling to himself and settling in once Cody shudders and angles his head out of the way.

“Absolutely certain,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his pulse point then kisses that very same spot.

A sigh from Cody is just the encouragement Obi-Wan needs to continue on. 

It's a gift having Cody so sensitive and wanting under him. An entirely different side of his commander than the stern, regal demeanor their troopers see day in and out. 

He kisses and sucks and nips the column of Cody's neck, delighting in the small, pleased noises he draws from Cody with every pass of his mouth over salty skin. 

He only leaves a couple of marks by the time Cody tugs him upwards. He's not too dismayed to leave the warm crook of his love’s neck because the expression on Cody's face is nothing short of wanton, absolutely debauched. 

Cody’s lips are still plump and kiss bitten. 

Obi-Wan can't resist. He traces the pad of his thumb across Cody's bottom lip. Breath shakes onto skin and Cody's mouth closes around the digit, suctioning him in hot, wet heat. 

He draws in a sharp breath.

His gaze darts to Cody’s eyes where he meets pupils blown wide with desire. Cody stares unflinchingly, daring and, oh… 

Cody has bewitched him, utterly and completely. Try as he might to retain composure, Cody is his undoing in these moments. The fragile strings of his heart (and… other parts of his anatomy…) pulled taut and ready to spring forward.

He wanted to keep it slow and soft, but Cody knows just how to arm him into an arrow ready to spring forth.

He pops his thumb from Cody's mouth and fixes his mouth and lips there instead, letting him know just how affected he is. He tastes Cody’s own desire echoed back to him in his moans and tongue and the needy press of his body that Obi-Wan keeps caged to the pillar. The fists that grab at his tunic and hair to try and get him even closer.

The high altitude forces them apart to breathe sooner than either of them would like but they don't go far, nuzzling noses and panting against one another's lips. 

“We’d better take this back to The Negotiator,” Cody says quietly, still out of breath.

Obi-Wan nods his agreement, sure that if they stay here a minute longer he'll be on his knees.

Hand in hand, they hurry away and the sunrise grows only brighter, pink tones making way for the brilliance of the full sun. Clouds drift with the breeze and all is as it will be.