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bookshelf-dust · 2 years ago

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the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,398

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of neil, reader has insecurities/social anxiety/anxiety in general, billy’s anxiety, descriptions of a wound, fluff, comfort

a/n: hi! so i worked on this for a couple days and i’ve kind of been wracking my brain with trying to figure out where i want to go, if that makes sense, but i think maybe i’ve gotten somewhere with this part. there’s definitely more opening up on both billy and reader’s side. there’s also one bit inspired by good will hunting, incase anyone catches it. anyways, this has been very self indulgent for me, and i hope that maybe you might find something in it. enjoy!! <33

before you read, listen to: fade to black by metallica and/or don’t dream it’s over by crowded house

————

It’s cloudy this morning, and you can feel the cold metal of your car door against your back, despite the layers you’ve got on.

You can feel Billy’s eyes on you too, so you focus on the details of his car rather than on him. On the shimmer the paint has in it when the light hits it the right way, the little scuff at the bottom of the driver’s side door.

You give in and turn your head to look at him, meeting his pretty blue eyes.

Billy takes a drag from his cigarette, assessing you.

He watches you pick at your nails, mess with your hair. Then you finally shove your hands in your pockets, though he thinks there’s probably lint in there you’ll play with too.

You watch him turn his head and blow the smoke in the other direction, like he does every time he has one near you.

Billy realized fairly quickly that you got to school earlier than necessary because you wanted to beat the rush of kids, spare the anxiety that came with parking.

He wasn’t really aware that parking is something that stresses people out. But it stresses you out.

And Billy has anxiety. He knows that. He feels it everyday. When people watch him in the halls at school, when he’s at home. Shit, it never stops at home.

But yours is different. You’re different than he is. He hides his well, and you don’t. Though maybe, he thinks, that’s because you never had to.

So he started getting there earlier too. Max would’ve complained, but she could skate around until the rest of the party got there. She found that she liked it that way.

Now, in the mornings, Billy pulls into the space next to you, tears you away from your book, and spends the rest of the time until you actually have to go into school talking to you—or not talking.

You’ve found that though it’s easy to talk to him, it’s also just as easy to be around him without speaking at all. You’ve found that his company is enough. His presence.

Billy notices, when you’ve turned to look at him, that you’re biting at the inside of your lip. He notices because he recognizes the movement, because he does the same thing. It’s rare that the inside of either of his lips aren’t sore because he’s chewed them raw.

“It’s going to be fine, you know,” Billy tells you. He stomps out the butt of his cigarette.

“You always say that.”

And truly, you know he’s got a point. You’ve studied your ass off for this test, have even had him look over your outlines for the essay portion too. You feel prepared.

But there’s always that voice in the back of your head, telling you otherwise.

The voice that clouds your mind like a shadow, that wraps its arms around your shoulders and squeezes.

It moves your hair to the side and whispers in your ear.

You’re not good enough. You have no purpose. You’re nothing. What are you doing here?

And more often than not, you believe it.

Billy walks toward you, adjusts the collar on your jacket, straightens the pin on the front pocket. He stares at you, a stern look on his face.

“And I’m always right, aren’t I? You’re going to be fine, in the end.”

You nod, and his mouth ticks up at the corners.

Billy bends the middle finger on his right hand and drags his knuckle across your cheek. It’s what he does now when he wants to offer you comfort.

You know it’s in place of a hug, or a kiss, or some passionate string of words that he can’t bring yet himself to say.

It hasn’t been but a couple weeks since that day at lunch.

He’d sat there, stealing food from your lunchbox and reading some book for English class. Something he’d never have picked out for himself and certainly wasn’t enjoying.

After that Billy found himself looking for you in the halls, just wanting to know you were there. It’s like when you’re a kid and your seat mate doesn’t come to school, and you feel this ache for them.

He’s not what it is, but he likes you. He likes your company. He likes that you don’t pester him or try to stomp all over his ego.

Billy Hargrove aches for you.

From then on, it’s been quiet conversations whenever you see each other, joining him for a walk when he’s outside. Sometimes he strolls down your driveway to wait for you.

It’s been nothing more than two lonely people finding solace in one another, in realizing that either person will understand whenever the dam breaks.

Billy might not know all the inner workings of your soul yet, but he feels like he does.

It’s when he asks you a question he hasn’t ventured to ask yet, though, that he realizes he wants to know more.

He wants to be your friend.

You watch the carline for the middle school pick up, listen to the shitty country music that the kids who live further out from town play on their way into the lot.

Billy knocks his ankle against yours softly. You look down, realizing that you’ve both got on the same pair of shoes: converse that look like they’ve seen much better days.

You look up, thinking he wants something. “Hm?”

“Would you want to go somewhere tonight? I don’t know,” he trails off, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth, “the record store? Or the bookstore, if you’d rather that. We could get something to eat.”

You feel yourself get warm all over and straighten from where you’d been relaxed against your car.

Billy senses that what he said set something off in you, and he starts to worry. “We could do anything you want.”

You inhale, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Uh, I don’t know, Billy. I’ve got to study.”

He scoffs. “For what? Your test is today.”

“Yeah, we’ll I’ve got another one next week,” you say.

“So you’re going to start studying a week early?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. It’s like you’re scrambling for a way out of this, for an excuse as to why you can’t spend time with him.

“My mom might need me tonight or something. I’ll have to ask her.”

Billy almost makes a quip about you having to ask your mommy’s permission to go out, though he decides against it, because you’re shrinking before his very eyes.

“Yeah?” He inquires.

You nod, shouldering your bag.

————

Billy calls you after school. Your mother picks up.

“Hi! This is Nicky. Who’s calling?”

He takes a deep breath. Your mother sounds kind, which he isn’t used to.

“Hi. This is Billy. Billy Hargrove. I was trying to reach Y/N, is she home?”

“Oh, hi, Billy! Yeah, she’s home. I think she might be asleep though.”

“That’s okay.” He tries to call her by your last name, but she insists that Nicky is just fine.

“Can I ask you something?” He continues.

Your mother doesn’t know a whole lot about your budding friendship with Billy, but she does know that you’ve seemed a little less…empty.

At least she thinks so. She thinks he might be good for you, and based on the fact that he’s calling, you might be good for him too.

“Sure, hon. Shoot.”

“Do you need Y/N tonight? Do you have plans?”

Your mother hums. “Nope to both. Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

“I wanted to see her tonight, but she said she had stuff to do.”

It clicks for him then, all at once.

“But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe she’s nervous? To go out and about? I’m sorry for saying all this, really,” Billy covers.

“No, sweetheart it’s okay.”

That almost does him in. No one parental has ever spoken to him this way. Not since his mom.

“Y/N has pretty bad social anxiety, so oftentimes she gets nervous about going out in public where there are loads of people. Does that make sense?”

“No, yeah that totally makes sense. Thank you for telling me.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking. “Do you think you could check on her? If she’s asleep don’t bother her though.” He finally says.

“Hold on just a second, okay sweetie? I’ll go see what she’s up to.”

Billy smiles, and he’s sure your mother can hear it in his voice when he responds. “Okay.”

The line goes quiet on her end, and he can hear what he assumes is the sound of your mother setting the phone on the counter. He can also hear some muffled voices.

He really wants to see you, but he understands if you’d rather stay home. He would try and invite you over to his, but he’d also like to avoid that.

There’s s a large part of Billy that wants to be there for you and learn what it is that you’re feeling. He can’t say that he doesn’t get nervous to be the center of attention in crowded places, because he does, but he’s never felt like he couldn’t go out like you do.

There’s a shuffling over the phone that brings him out of his stupor.

This time it’s your voice that he hears, and it’s calm, sweet, just like your mother’s had been. You’re not upset with him. His shoulders relax at that realization.

“Hi, Billy.”

“Guess you weren’t sleeping then, huh?”

You laugh lightly. “Nope. Just wallowing in self pity. What’d you wanna talk about?”

“About what I asked you today. I’d really like to spend a little more time with you, but I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Let me think for a second, okay?”

“Only for a second. I don’t want you to psych yourself out.” Billy can hear you sigh heavily, and he rolls his eyes. He can practically picture you, standing there.

“Um, okay. I’ll-I’ll go. Yeah, I’ll go. I haven’t been anywhere besides school in a long ass time.” That bit seems directed more at yourself than at Billy.

“Okay, little honeybee.” He’d heard your mom call for you and he was saving that one up.

“Fuck off,” you start, though there’s no malice in your voice. “Also, we can go to both, by the way.”

“Huh?” He questions, caught off guard.

“The record store and the bookstore. You offered the bookstore and I’m not letting it go.”

“Stubborn ass,” he mumbles.

“Can it, Hargrove. Are you picking me up? If so, when?”

He knows you could just walk down the street and go wherever with him. But he doesn’t want that. He finds that he’s kind of excited to see you.

“Yeah I can pick you up, your highness.”

————

Billy reaches across and pushes the passenger side door open when he sees you patter down the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” he hears you mumble, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Mhm.”

The both of you are silent for a moment, and you watch houses flick by outside the window. You wonder what people are up to. If they’re comfortable in those houses. If they’ve got carpet or hardwoods or stairs.

The radio volume is shockingly low you notice, but high enough that you catch something you recognize: the beginning of “Fade to Black.”

“Is there a reason you’re keeping the music so quiet?” You ask, and Billy glances at you for just a second.

“I was trying to not be an asshole,” he smirks, but it turns into a full, swoon-worthy smile when he sees you do the same at his remark.

“Well, you can turn it up, if you want. I like this song.”

Billy laughs. “Don’t fuck with me like that, Y/N.” He reaches for the dial and turns it up anyways. “Are you trying to tell me that you like Metallica?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Hargrove?” You sit on your hands, the leather seat cold on the backs of your fingers.

“I don’t know, I’m just not used to people liking the music I like.”

You laugh.

“So which one is it?” Billy asks.

You ignore him, pretend you don’t know what he’s asking.

“Is it James?”

Your grin is wide.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But Kirk is pretty too. Not that I don’t think they’re all pretty, because they are.”

“Pretty?” He snorts.

“Yes, Billy.” You’re feeling brave, happiness spreading through you because you got to talk about something you like—so you go for it. “You’re pretty too.”

Billy coughs, and you pat him on the shoulder. “That’s a new one,” he tells you.

“Well get used to it, pretty boy.”

————

You’ve only been in the record store for five minutes, but Billy can sense that you’re nervous. There’s a pretty good crowd meandering through the aisles, and it’s a Friday night, so that’s no surprise.

You keep close to him, and you worry that he’s bothered by it, but you really do feel better when he’s right there.

Billy watches you flick through a set of Journey tapes, notices when you seem to panic a little if he goes too far away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your eyes downcast at a stack of magazines.

“For what?”

“Being a buzzkill. I doubt I’m very good company.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice is serious enough that you look up at him. “You’re not a buzzkill. And you’re the best company I’ve had since I got here.”

You keep eye contact with him for a few seconds, realize he’s got freckles. That’s enough to straighten you out.

“Can we go to the back? That’s where they put the random shit they find and then it’s usually like fifty cents.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, come on.” Billy holds out his hand. He wiggles his fingers when you don’t immediately take it. “So I don’t lose you in the crowd,” he says.

You feel yourself burn, but take his hand, and his palm is rough against yours.

He leads you to the far end of the store, and you find exactly the thing you were looking for. You walk around awhile, looking at everything and nothing.

You see something, and when you go to grab it, you let go of Billy’s hand and move your own up to his bicep, where you hold on to him instead.

Billy likes you holding his arm better, he thinks. It feels more…intimate. Like you trust him. He’s not used to that.

When you catch him looking at where you’re grasping him, you squeeze his arm a little, just above his elbow. “So I don’t lose you in the crowd,” you say, giggling to yourself. You say it the same way that people day “duh,” and that makes Billy’s heart skip.

You pick up what it was that you saw: an Ozzy Osbourne bobble head.

“What did Ozzy do to them? This is fifteen cents, Billy.”

“Maybe they really like bats.”

That does you in, and the both of you start laughing, enough that you get looks, but neither of you care.

You set it back down and move on, though there really isn’t that much more to look at. Billy buys a Tank tape, and that’s all.

He tosses his bag in the backseat of the Camaro so that he doesn’t have to hold it, and then walks you back down the street towards the bookstore.

You lead the way through the aisles, through fantasy and then romance and then mystery.

It’s obvious to him that you’ve been here loads of times and that you have a plan. You also seem much more comfortable here—like it’s your kind of atmosphere.

It’s in the mystery section that you linger, though, and he watches you pick up the same book, read the blurb, and then put it back three separate times.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Billy.”

You crouch to look at another shelf.

“You should get that one you just put back.”

“I have plenty of books.”

Billy rolls his eyes and reaches for it. “This one, right?”

You look up, nod.

“I’ll get it for you then,” he states.

“Billy—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“Can it.”

“Janet,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Guess that means I’ll have to make you watch Rocky Horror.”

“I’m buying you a present, and you’re going to punish me by making me watch some chick-flick?”

You grab for his arm again, and walk towards the register. “It’s not a chick-flick, Hargrove.”

“Whatever you say.”

You watch him pay, and he hands the paperback to you on your way back to the car.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both get in, and he sits a second to let it warm a little. “Dinner?” Billy asks.

“Sure.”

————

Your mother is leaning against the counter, making herself hot chocolate when you get home. “Want some?” Her smile is contagious.

You accept, and she spins back around after turning the stove back on, realizing you’re holding something.

She wiggles her eyebrows, which she should really refrain from doing.

“Billy bought me a book,” you tell her.

“He’s a keeper.”

————

It’s been a couple days since your not-date with Billy. That’s what your mom is calling it, much to your dismay.

She’s gone out for a little while, and you’re reading that book the pretty blonde bought you.

You hear a knock and panic, because you don’t do well with unannounced visitors, but you go to the door anyways.

A look through the peephole tells you it’s Billy.

You pull the door open, and panic a little more because his eyes are glassy, though you can tell he doesn’t want them to be.

His hands are clenching and unclenching, and he’s not wearing a jacket, so he’s got no sleeve to mess with either.

“I’m sorry. Your mom’s car wasn’t here so I thought—it doesn’t matter. Can I—”

“It’s okay,” you stop him. “Will you come in please?”Something is wrong, clearly, and frankly, he’s freaking you out.

He doesn’t say anything, just follows you inside, lingering in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need you to promise you’re not going to flip out on me if I tell you.”

Your breath catches. What the fuck?

“Are you a murderer or some shit? Because I can clean things, but I am not that good.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, no.” Billy runs his hands down his face. “I need you your help. There’s a cut on my back, and I can feel it bleeding, but I can’t clean it up myself. I was going to ask you to look at it.”

You take a deep breath, start thinking about if you’ve got anything to fix him up with.

You turn around and walk towards your bathroom, leaving him there. “I’m assuming you’re following me,” you say.

You want to ask him what happened, but you don’t want to push either.

Because he came to you. And maybe that means something.

You crouch, opening the cabinets under your sink. You gesture vaguely behind you when you wear Billy stop in the doorway.

“Sit down for me, please,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, and though he can’t see your face, he can most definitely feel it.

You push the door open wider, and you come into view for him. You’re sat cross legged on the floor.

Billy watches you pull out a washcloth, some q-tips. A messy assortment of other things.

You look up at him. “Can you show me?”

He nods, and you stand, kicking the cabinets shut. You try not to stare as he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off of his shoulders. He turns so he’s sitting sideways on the toilet.

You bend to look at it.

It’s not horrible or anything, but you know it has to hurt. It’s more of a bruise than anything, starting to get purple around the edges, but he was right about the blood—though it wasn’t a lot.

There’s a thin gash above his shoulder blade. It looks like the kind of thing you get when you bump into something wrong and it scrapes you, leaving a cut just deep enough to draw blood.

“You’re not bleeding anymore, it’s all dry now. I’m gonna wipe it off, okay?”

Billy sniffles. “Okay.”

You turn the tap on and wait for the water to get a little warmer, not wanting it to be too cold for him. You wet the rag and then wipe the dried blood clean from his skin, rinsing the fabric and then repeating that process until it’s clean.

You feel like you need something to put on it. The placement is bothering you and feels more susceptible to getting irritated. You really don’t want it to bother him.

With a little more rummaging, you find some antibiotic ointment that you’ve used for knee scrapes before.

You put some on the tip of your finger. “This is probably going to be cold, I’m sorry.”

Billy nods, and is quiet the entire time you rub it over the cut. You try not to notice how warm his skin is under your finger. Or how his bare back looks.

“You haven’t asked,” he finally says.

You wash your hands. “I didn’t know if you’d want to tell me.”

You pull out one of those oversized bandaids. “It’s my dad.”

Your fingers freeze where they tear into the packaging, but you calm yourself before sticking the bandaid on him.

“He got pissed at me today, and there’s a bookshelf in my room. He slammed me up against it, and my shoulder caught on the edge of a cassette tape.”

You move in front of him to drop your mess of supplies into the trash and sit on the edge of the tub to listen.

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. He’s fucking hated my guts since my mom left. But I guess I’ve never had someone I felt like I could come to about it.”

You feel that everywhere.

You reach out and push a curl out of his face. “I’m sorry, Billy.”

You move to get on your knees in front of him so that your faces are level and take his hands. “It’s not your fault.”

His brow furrows. You say it again.

“It’s not your fault. I’m sure you think it is, but it’s not.”

His eyes are getting glossy again. “It might be though. If I’d just been different—”

“No. Don’t say that. You’re doing your best, Billy, and that’s enough. He’s an asshole and you deserve better.”

Billy nods again and again as if reassuring himself, as if trying to absorb your words.

“Hug?” You ask.

He nods again.

And you just hold him for awhile. He doesn’t cry, but you can feel him relax in your hold, feel him melt into you.

You think about how much it means to you that he feels comfortable enough with you to share this. That you’ve never felt this way before. This ache and this sincere passion for the well-being of another person.

You also think about how he smells like cigarettes and something fruity, which you assume is in his hair, and like his cologne.

Billy thinks about how he hasn’t been hugged like this since his mom. He thinks about something else he hasn’t felt in a really long time too. He wonders how long it will take for him to get the courage to tell you. If you feel the same.

Eventually, you pull away, and Billy pulls his shirt back on, grinning at you when your eyes linger on his chest as he buttons it up.

“Would you want to stay for awhile? Maybe for dinner or something?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

————

When your mother comes home, she’s not surprised that Billy is there, nor upset by his presence. She’s happy to see you with someone.

She may even have wiggled her eyebrows at you both.

But now, the three of you have not only eaten dinner, but heard every bit of gossip that your mother had to offer. It was after the bean spill that your mom dugout your very worn in copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show for you to watch.

“You know,” she’d told Billy, “when Y/N was a kid, I left her with her with Wendy and went to see a midnight showing of this. It was so beautiful, all of these people dressed up in this room just to watch a silly film.”

Billy hasn’t ever felt this welcome in someone’s home. Never even in his own.

He’s sitting on the floor in between your legs while you braid his hair and he watches Dr. Frank-N-Furter dance around with Columbia.

So, come up to the lab

And see what’s on the slab

You’ve been quiet mostly during the movie regarding talking, though Billy revels in your laugh each time Brad says something stupid—so it’s pretty damn often.

You’d also told Billy he’d look spectacular in a corset, and that was after he agreed to let you practice the makeup someday. He’d hidden his blushing cheeks from you.

“I see you shiver with antici…pation.”

Your mother is sitting in an oversized chair across from the two of you.

“She does that every time,” she tells Billy with the sweetest of grins on her face.

Billy’s hand slips under your thigh and holds on to your knee.

“Done?” He whispers.

You tie the braid off. “Yep.”

When he leans his head back in your lap to look at you, you can’t help but feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

And when he leaves that night, you miss him. You miss Billy Hargrove.

It’s been a long time since you missed someone.

You watch your mother clean up the kitchen before bed.

“He’s a grump, but I like him,” she says suddenly. “I can’t believe he let you braid his hair.”

You hide a smile, not quite believing it yourself either.

“I like him too.”

And she knows you feel more than that for him. She can see it.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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phoenixkaptain · 3 years ago

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Want to write the silliest, most self-indulgent thing ever and it will just be Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, maybe throw in Luke and Leia to really make it overly obvious how indulgent this is, just hanging out, but all of them are like… seventeen.

Like, the chaos, right??? All of them being the same age at the same time and it’s a fucking nightmare and they would be so insufferable and I kinda want to make them even younger, maybe like fifteen. Twelve. Ten. Eight. Five. Just, I want Force Shenanigans tm to make these specific characters all pop into existence at the same time at the same age.

I admittedly don’t know how Qui-Gon acted as a padawan in canon, and I honestly don’t even know if he’s ever even been shown as a padawan, but I love imagining Padawan Qui-Gon. Look at how he is as an adult! He would be so much worse! The Council is over there, taking deep breaths and counting to ten, telling themselves “Younglings are like this. He’ll grow out of it. He will grow out of this phase, this is all just a phase, a phase he will grow out of, please, Force, let this be temporary-“ but he doesn’t grow out of it!

I like to imagine he can get away with so much because he was even worse, somehow, as a padawan, and Yoda is just thinking “Did not set anything on fire, on purpose, this time, at least. Well you did, Qui-Gon. The good work you must keep up.” I also really, really, REALLY like the part in Cloak of Darkness that says Qui-Gon’s go-to excuse for his own behaviour is “I can’t help it. I was made this way. The Force wills it, I can’t change.” It is so fucking funny and I think Qui-Gon probably started saying “the Force wills it” at ten when he snuck puppies into the dorms or something.

Obi-Wan as a padawan is just so, how to put this, sassy? But like, he is also so nervous, he is so nervous so much of the time and he reminds me of a kitten, I love him. He’s an absolute nightmare on the opposite end of the spectrum from everyone else. I think he follows all of the rules and I think he refuses to turn in reports if he finds a typo and I think he is the type of padawan who only sasses when overwhelmed with relief to be alive (which happens unfortunately very often). He just wants a pat on the head and to be told he did good, please.

I probably should have done more research before I started this idea but oh well— Anakin as a padawan is probably a strange mixture of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Because as a teenager and preteen, he almost definitely goes through the phase most kids go through earlier in life, where he pushes his boundaries to see what he can and can’t do. He was thrust out of Tatooine and into a whole new environment and he probably spent at least a year waiting for someone to be cruel to him, and when they weren’t, he began pushing his limits more and more. And because his master is Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan is somehow the most patient but tired man in the history of the galaxy, Anakin pushes his limits and does something bad and then almost immediately feels guilty.

Yes, Anakin set the kitchens on fire because he was mad at someone. Yes, Anakin is also sobbing because he feels so guilty about it. The two co-exist.

We know how Ahsoka is as a padawan. She’s adorable and very skilled, if not a bit cocky at times. She’s overzealous and she pushes herself to reach upper limits because her master is the fucking Chosen One and that’s gotta put some pressure on you.

Luke and Leia, of course, were not padawans. Not ever, really, when you think about it. Like yeah, Luke went through a crash course, but he was basically handed a lightsaber and told “Congrats, you’re a Jedi Knight now, have fun.” Leia was kind of sort of trained by Luke, but in Legends’ continuity she never really learned all that much because she had a lot of pressure on her as a leader and in current contintuity Disney seems to have entirely forgotten that Leia could be a badass general and trained to wield a lightsaber, both at the same time.

All this to say, Luke and Leia are the odd ones out, both because they know even less about Jedi than Anakin does and because they aren’t Padawans.

Luke is a strange case, and maybe I’m reading his character wrong, but he seems to put things being fair above other motivations, especially when he’s younger. He isn’t obsessed with rules, like Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t really go out of his way to break them, either. Like, he didn’t stray too far away from the Lars’ homestead. He hung out with his friends only occasionally and worked on the homestead a lot. When Owen tells him he can’t leave Tatooine, Luke is disappointed but he tells Obi-Wan that he can’t leave because Owen needs him (and in the best (deleted) scene ever created, he tells Biggs that he can’t leave his uncle and aunt alone while they still need him, no matter how much he wants to). Luke is a rule follower, somehow? Despite being Luke Skywalker, he follows rules more often than not, and isn’t that weird???

Leia acts like an unholy mixture of her mother and father, where she sasses people and is disrespectful in a chipper tone and she definitely bit at least one person as a child, no one can convince me she didn’t. In Legends’ continuity, the book Heir to the Empire explains that people used to mistake Leia’s friend Winter for the “real” Princess Leia Organa. Which, they say it’s because Winter is very regal in bearing, but I can only imagine that it was also because Leia was definitely the type of kid to wander in covered in mud and offer no explanation whatsoever. (I like Leia being a bit feral, okay??? She is already so weird. She finds out Luke is her brother and her first thought is “we can hide you from the Empire forever, Luke, forever and ever” and in Heir of Darkness she’s upset because Luke is upset and there’s nothing she can do to help him because he won’t tell her what’s wrong but also Han is gone and Leia’s first response to loneliness is to get pissed that Han left in the first place. Leia lied to Tarkin’s face in front of Darth fucking Vader and she spoke back to Darth fucking Vader and she absolutely screams at Han during the first movie for being stupid and I’m telling you, Leia is the feral one. Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, the one who everyone expects to be refined and regal, is the feral twin, you can’t change my mind it’s canon-)

So, imagining Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Luke, and Leia, all being in the same spot at the same time, all being like sixteen. And I want to make it the Jedi High Council’s problem because I enjoy making things the Jedi High Council’s problem :)

Qui-Gon would absolutely convince Anakin and Leia to do something stupid with him. Obi-Wan would definitely be trying to be the mature one while also fighting the urge to follow everything Qui-Gon says (he likes Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon may have led him astray many times, but surely Qui-Gon won’t again, righf???). Ahsoka would be off in the corner wondering why this is her life. Luke is sitting next to her asking her questions because he’s hoenstly curious, but instead of being about the way she looks or anything, Luke is like “Do you think they have lakes here? I’ve never seen a lake. Fountains??? What’s a fountain? Can I see one-? A thoUSAND!!!!??? :D”

Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are living their best lives. Plo Koon gets to spend time with Ahsoka again, and you cannot tell me he wouldn’t be utterly charmed by a young Leia who asks things very politely and stiffly one second and then kicks someone in the shin the next second. Shaak Ti is over there like “I should have stolen you from Dooku, Qui-Gon, and you from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and you from Obi-Wan, Anakin, and you from, who did you say your teacher was, again?” Luke: “Ms. Apel, she teaches Survival School. She let me sneak in a womp rat and only looked a bit weirded out when I ate it :)” and Anakin, immediately: “You went to Survival School? What was it like?” And Shaak Ti just smiles while Luke explains and pats his head and thinks “I should figure out how to return as a Force Ghost��”

(btw I’m not one hundred percent sure, but the only time school on Tatooine is mentioned, in my memory, is in the 1976 novel and it was specifically called Survival School and I will not get over the idea of Luke being the one out of all of these padawans who inexplicably knows how to hogtie someone and/or survive alone for three weeks in the desert with no supplies, which is what they teach at Survival School, I can only assume)

Mostly just want Qui-Gon zoning out and Luke zoning out next to him. Leia and Ahsoka bonding over girly things, you know, like dresses and cute boys and cute girls and sharp sticks and big rocks and that cool lizard; girl stuff. Anakin is nervous but trying not to show it and so he’s sticking to Obi-Wan, but this just makes Obi-Wan nervous, and Obi-Wan’s fight or flight instincts are going to kick in at any second, so Anakin gets more riled up, which riles up Obi-Wan more, which riles up Anakin more, which-

Basically, I want the whole story to end with Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Luke, and Leia all standing in front of the Council. Qui-Gon is holding an armful of puppies. Obi-Wan is very tired and his sleeve is still on fire despite the fact that Anakin shoved him into a fountain and he wishes he ignored Qui-Gon. Anakin is soaking wet and trying to look angry instead of guilty. Ahsoka is hiding more puppies behind her back. Luke is zoning out, probably thinking about geometry or something, and he is covered in dirt and does not seem to notice. Leia is also covered in dirt, but she glares at anyone who looks at her or Luke for too long and is starting to growl whenever someone makes eye contact with Anakin and Anakin flinches.

Yoda: “Happened, what did?”

Qui-Gon: “:)”

Mace: “Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon: “:D”

Everyone: “Qui-Gon, please, tell us you didn’t-“

Qui-Gon: “I can’t lie to you, Masters, nor do I wish to. I can’t help what I did, Masters, the Force willed it.”

Everyone, including Obi-Wan: groans

Luke: “Can we name one of the dogs after my other dog?”

Qui-Gon, immediately: “Yes, of course. What was your dog’s name?”

Luke: “Fido.”

Everyone: “That’s a pretty normal name, I guess-“

Luke: “It’s short for Fighter Jet T-56.”

Qui-Gon: “Lovely name.”

Luke: :D

Qui-Gon: :D

Everyone else: “Oh no.”

And yeah, that’s my idea, to put it simply: Chaos Incarnate, Padawan Edition

232 notes · View notes

astxroiid · 3 years ago

Text

meant to be yours // stalker!edward nashton

wc: 4.3k

Warnings: dark themes! Stalking, obsession, manipulation, screaming, murder, 1 mention of s*x trafficking (not Ed), mature themes! swearing, smut, 18+ content, oral (m and f receiving), implied inexperienced!Eddie, bondage, penetration, unprotected sex! Please be safe irl! dom!reader, sub!eddie, masochism, sadism, bondage, breath play.

Summary: as you start fresh in a new city, you hope Gotham won’t be the same as the town before. And after beginning a relationship with the cutest boy you’ve ever seen, you really hope things go well - but it all takes a turn when he leaves his laptop open and unlocked…

Author’s Note: I do not support any actions taken in this fic. This is purely for self indulgence - I do not condone these actions in the real world. Stalking is a real crime and a horrible thing to actually do. I’m just writing out my own sexual fantasy.

navigation ✩ part two <?>

Edward had frequented the café you work at almost immediately after you got the job. Granted, that wasn’t long, but seeing such a handsome man everyday gave you something to look forward to.

You’d been pretty down after leaving your hometown - your ex having ran you off. Edward already knew that, though. He also knew his name was Michael and he grew up in a wealthy family - but you hadn’t.

Typical, he thought, some big and rich town boy looking to use a pretty girl for a short time before discarding her and moving on like it never happened.

But - rather uncharacteristically - he didn’t move on as fast as they normally do. He held on, harassed you into quitting your job and losing your friends. That wasn’t enough for Mike though. He wanted it all. He continued with his tormenting until he was satisfied and you had fled town.

Edward made a mental note to compare this man to Icarus, flying to close to the Sun, too greedy for his own good. Edward would make sure his wax wings melted. But that was an issue for later.

Right then he was focused on getting your attention. At this point in time you’d never spoken to each other. At least verbally. In Edwards eyes he just knew the glances over your shoulder meant something more than seeing if he needed a refill.

It was a way of telling him you were interested, you wanted him - just as much as he wanted you.

To be fair, he wasn’t completely deluded. His creep-o brain hadn’t made it all up. You were interested. And you definitely wanted him. Your favorite pastime being filling up his cup, slightly bent over with your shirt undone. This gave Ed a complete face full of your chest.

The best part was watching his face go red but he’d never move his eyes, keeping them set on the one spot. You’d giggle, ask if he was okay, pretend you didn’t know. But you both knew you meant it.

One day you had purposely worn your skirt higher, bending over and letting Ed see your red laced thong. His eyes never left you after that.

Another day you had deviated from your schedule, requested off on a day you normally worked. This threw Eddie of his rhythm. You walked in wearing your normal clothes, one’s Edward never saw outside of binoculars, media posts, and long distances away.

A low-cut, v-neck shirt and tight jeans topped off with Vans and sparkling jewelry.

You scooted into the booth opposite him, smiling. The poor boys expression was one of shock and fear. Were you confronting him? Had you found out it was more than just coming into the café everyday? Did you find out his plans for Michael?

None of it made sense. Why would you be smiling if you had?

You giggled. “I figured since you haven’t asked me out yet we’d just have a date here. It’s long overdue, don’t you think?” He nodded his head excitedly.

Edward smiled at the memory, you’d always been so forward, choosing action over inaction every time. He kissed your forehead and tucked you in.

“Mmm. D’you have to go to work?” You groan from the bed, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a proper kiss. Ed hums and struggles to catch himself as you pull him down more.

He breaks free, panting. “Honey, I’ll be late.”

“I don’t give a shit,” you retort, pulling him on top of you. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in, grinding up into his hips. His head hangs between your neck and shoulder. He groans at the pleasure.

“Stay with me,” you plead in a sultry tone, rubbing him with each sentence. “I want to feel you again.”

Your menstruations start to work on Eddie, he’s giving in. He kisses your neck and you feel him harden in his pants.

It takes you starting to unbutton his shirt to bring him back. “My love, I really have to get going. I’ll miss the train.”

You huff and roll your eyes.

“Wait for me?” He asks. It’s a simple question that highlights undertones of a fear you’ll leave.

“Of course,” your voice is so soft it melts his heart. He kisses you one last time.

━━━━ ✭˚ ? >

You’d fallen back to sleep soon after Eddie left. You’d definitely had a long enough night to put you out of commission for the whole day.

You woke to the sound of a notification dinging. You checked your phone to see if it was Edward, only to realize your phone was dry. You look around for the culprit, connecting eyes with Ed’s laptop.

You squint at it angrily, moving to shut the screen but your eyes glimpsed the text appearing. The notification.

‘Local Billion-Heir Dies in Explosion at His Own Estate’ It’s talking about Michael.

Your hand comes to cover your mouth gently as you click open the article. Someone planted a bomb in his house, timed it perfectly to catch him off guard. They also leaked a lot of terrible things Michael and his family had been involved in.

Were it not for his death, you’d say he deserved it. His dirty laundry being aired to the world. Serves an asshole like him right. But he died. You remind yourself. He didn’t deserve death. Even after everything.

You happen to look up and read the tabs open on Edward’s computer. Basic stuff. Netflix, YouTube, and Spotify filling all three of the notes. Opening Netflix brings you to the movie you were watching with Ed last night - interrupted by other activities.

You check Spotify, finding a couple of handmade playlists and artists you could easily guess he listens to. Moving to YouTube you keep the same curious mood, sure it won’t be any different than the previous two.

It’s a video of a man sitting behind a table, plastic and metal pieces of a device scattered before him. You read the title. ‘Bomb Building for Beginners’

You gasp and jump back, knocking over the desk chair.

No. No this couldn’t be right. Just a crazy coincidence. Something for work. He is the head risk analyst at Shuttle Co. Maybe that has something to do with it.

You need to look more. The video is pretty basic, the man states that the video is purely for viewing purposes and not to be followed.

You search his desktop, hoping to find nothing while your heart pounds in your chest and a voice in your head knows you’ll find more.

There’s a file. ‘M.C.’. Michael Collins.

“Please be wrong. Please be wrong,” you beg in a whisper while clicking it.

You’re not. It’s pages upon pages of information about Michael. His parents. Where he went to school. What his hobbies are. Every partner he’s ever had since high school - including you. There’s pictures here you’ve never seen from the press.

Did Edward take these?

There’s also diagrams of bombs, how to detonate them from safe distances, keeping them untraceable…

You feel like your going to faint. Or vomit. Probably both. But some morbid part of your brain is still curious. It still wants to look, see everything Ed has done.

You find more on what Mike and his parents got up to. The files leaked to the press. The Collins’ ran a sex trafficking ring as well as some other extremely illegal incomes of money.

Their story of wealth was bullshit.

Maybe it was deserved. The thought passes your mind for a millisecond before you correct yourself. No. Not good. No one deserves to die like that.

C’mon. You know you wanted Big Mike Collins to get what was coming to him. And based on the evidence, his family was long overdue for a reckoning. The voice in your head persists.

“No! Stop. No one should kill anyone. I’m not defending a murderer.” You hit your temple with the heel of your hand.

You freeze, looking at the clock on the wall, realizing Ed will be home any moment. You scramble around trying to figure out what to do.

Do you take the laptop? Turn it in to the authorities? No, surly they’ll kill Eddie for what he did. You don’t want another murder. Do you leave him a note? Ask him to leave you alone - don’t talk to you ever again?

Your thoughts are interrupted buy Edward’s apartment door opening. “Hey, sweetheart, I missed you.”

His eyes land on your worried expression before flicking to his laptop, open and displaying his plans for Michael. Fuck.

“S-stay away,” you extend your arm in front of your body. “You’re a murderer!”

He sighs, setting his bag down. “Y/n, I only did what was best. You can’t tell me that asshole didn’t deserve his karma.”

“You’re crazy!” Ed steps toward you, palms up in submission. You jump back. “Get away from me!”

You run to the bathroom, locking yourself in.

“Y/N! Y/n, please. Listen—”

“Go away!” You sob, back pressed to the door. Your arms wrap around your knees, hugging yourself.

“He was terrible to you. He deserved to be put in his place!”

“By killing him?!” Your voice cracks and Ed’s heart breaks to hear you so broken.

“You saw the things he and his family did. How corrupt they were. They had it coming.”

“I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Edward freezes, looking aghast. “I— but we— we’re meant to be together, y/n. Please. I’m yours! Just give me a chance!”

“No. You lost that chance when you killed a man,” you turn to the door angrily, pretending the wood was Ed’s face.

“Please! Open the door!” He begs, desperate. “Let me make it up to you! I promise! I’ll never do it again!”

Silence.

“Y/N OPEN THE DOOR!” He punches the wood dividing the two of you. “Open the door… please.”

The last word sounded so needy it reminded you of the night before. Involuntarily sending butterflies to your stomach and the memories. Fuck this is wrong on so many levels.

You hear his quiet sobs behind the door. Your positions match each other. Backs pressed into the wood, heads leaned back with arms hugging your legs. Everything the same down to the tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I wanted you to feel safe with me,” Edwards voice is hoarse and pathetic yet somehow still erotic. “I knew you’d never feel secure with that asshole still out there. I knew your fears of him coming back and breaking us up. But y/n, I’d never leave you. Not for anything.”

Against your better judgment, your heart warms at his words. How much he cares.

He’s demented! The logical side of your brain tries to reason. But the irrational side is giving in, sending heat to your core at the sounds of Eddie’s panting.

“Please don’t leave me,” fuck his begging is getting to you. If he keeps it up your logic won’t last long.

You both sit in silence for a moment. Fuck it.

You stand and Edward turns at your noises just in time for you to open the door, looking down at his pathetic form on the floor.

“Y/n- please I—”

You lean down and kiss him so fast he has little time to breathe. You place your hand under his chin, pulling him up. He struggles between standing and not breaking his kiss with you, scared it’s the last.

Once he’s up and his face above yours, his hands make their way to your jaw - holding you close. You press your tongue into his mouth and Eddie hums. Your jaws move in time, used to each other.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me?” You say parting from Ed and allowing him to breathe. He’s panting hard.

“Yes! Please! Anything. I’ll do any—”

“Get on your knees.”

His pupils dilate. “Yes ma’am,” he hits the floor immediately. You know this is wrong but - fuck - the way he’s looking up at you, glasses fogged, hair a mess, waiting.

“Take them off,” you gesture toward your shorts and he obeys. Grabbing the hem and tugging them down hastily. “Underwear too, Ed.”

Just your demanding tone alone has Eddie hard as a rock in his slacks. Once he’s done as he’s told, you smile and pull your shirt over your head.

He’s watching your every move like a hawk. Never taking his eyes off you. He sits with his hands in his lap, waiting for further instruction.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly grabbing a handful.

“Go on,” you look him dead in his eyes. He knows what your saying and he follows. Opening his mouth he connects with your already soaking wet pussy. You’re both still keeping eye contact while his tongue starts to work on you.

You lean your head back and moan loud when he presses through your folds, flicking your clit. You use the hand full of hair to push him harder against you.

He moves his hands from his lap to your hips, massaging circles in the bone. Your legs go weak at the feeling of him working his tongue on you, knowing exactly how to press and push to get you closer.

You moan his name loud enough to feel the echo through the tiny apartment. You’re both panting, with you singing his name out repeatedly - sprinkling in bits of yes and swears to fuel his desire.

Eddie decides your not pushing hard enough and uses his grip on your thighs to pull himself into you with such a force you almost lose your balance.

You pull his head back by the hair and Edward moans at the pleasure, breathing heavy. You kneel down, bringing yourself to his level. Your lips connect again and you hum at the taste of yourself.

“Get on the bed, love.”

He nods again and stands at once, making his way to the beaten mattress.

Edward lays flat, patient for you, yet nervous most of all. You climb on top of him, raising yourself above his body. You reach into his side drawer and pull out a pair of fluffy handcuffs you never got around to using last night.

You gently take his wrists in your hands. “You gonna be a good boy for me?”

He gives a small, yet eager nod, doe eyes trained on yours.

“Words, baby. Use your words,” your voice, Ed notes, is gentle - like rain, or sunshine.

“Yes. I will.”

“Good.”

You lock his wrists in place, pulling the cuffs through the metal of the bed-frame.

You climb down his body, pushing his shirt up above his chest and moving on to his slacks, unbuttoning them as you place a tender kiss to the happy trail just above the low hem-line.

You take his pants and boxers down in one fluid movement, letting his impressive erection fall to his stomach. The poor boy already leaking pre-cum onto himself.

You bite your bottom lip and smile.

Once his pants are off you settle between his knees, taking his length in your hand.

He’s already pretty vocal. Moaning at the pleasure of just your hand on him. You knew he hadn’t done much before you but fuck you loved this.

You pump your hand once, rotating your hand and rubbing your thumb across his slit before moving your palm back down.

Fuck the moan he gives in response is enough to make you cum. It’s whinny and needy and silently begging for more. But you can tell from just this it’d be easy to make him cum.

You lift his cock up and lick a long stripe from base to tip, locking eyes with him as you go.

“F-f-fuck, ah…” his hips shake as his head falls back.

“You like that, baby?”

“God— fuck. Yes! Please…”

“Please, what, love? What do you want me to do? Anything for my sweet boy.” You brush his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead.

Already sweaty? Damn. You had more of an effect than you’d thought.

“P-please… keep touching m-me. Please,” he struggles against his restraints, wanting desperately to touch you.

“As you wish.”

You continue moving your hand up and down, rotating and pumping at an agonizingly slow pace.

He’s whimpering now.

“Mmm. Uh. More… please?”

“More? I’m using my whole hand, I can’t use more of that.”

He moans again as you stop your hand to grab his balls, squeezing them into your hand along with his shaft, letting them fall out of your grip as you move to pump him again.

“Mouth… use your mouth, fuck. Please.”

“Like this?” You ask, giving him an evil look as you wrap your mouth around the tip of his dick, swirling your tongue and humming.

“Y-yes. God— more, please,” he looks pathetic; his arms are straining against the handcuffs, face contorted in pleasure, hips shaking, chest sweaty.

You decide to stop teasing. Taking him more and more in your mouth, sinking down on his cock.

His exclamation of pleasure doesn’t fall on deaf ears, that much is evident by the pool of arousal dripping from your core, down your thighs.

You use your hand to pump what few inches you can’t take. He groans, long and whinny.

“F-fuck…”

You hum, sending vibrations throughout his base. You start to bob your head at a pleasant pace, not wanting to torture him anymore.

A string of curses leave his mouth along with hums of your name.

You dig the nails of your unoccupied hand into his thigh, leaving crescent shaped indentations in Edward’s skin.

He hisses at the pain mixing with pleasure, groaning when you drag your fingers down, leaving red scratches as you go.

You scoop his balls into the same hand that’s holding his length, squeezing them together.

“Fuck, baby— I’m close. Please— shit!” He interrupts himself when you spit on his tip, using your free hand to work it down his shaft and back up to the head of his cock.

You pull away from him, not ready for him to finish yet. Reaching up to the restraints at his wrists you unhook the claps and free him from the cuffs.

Ed’s hands immediately fly to your hips, shoving his face into your breasts - which happened to be positioned perfectly above him.

You smile, humming at the pleasure, and sit back on your heels. Edward follows you up, eyes locked on yours the whole time, mouth never leaving your tits.

His arms wrap around your body, Ed pulling you as close to him as possible. You run your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp along the way.

“Such a good boy for me…” you trail off, flashes of what was happening before all this coming to you. Reminding you of what he did.

Fuck this is wrong. Twisted in every way imaginable. But isn’t this what you’d always wanted? A man willing to do anything for you - not afraid of your big and rich ex, not worried of Mike coming for him because of you?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the pleasure of Ed pushing your hips down, grinding you against his erection.

“Fuck…” you’re more sensitive than you thought. Edward moans with you at the feeing - sending vibrations through your chest.

“C-can i— um- could i…”

You look down at him expectantly, his doe eyes locking on yours, he’s pleading with you to understand what he’s trying to say so he doesn’t have to speak it out loud.

You know what he wants, but it’s so fun to hear him ask. You play dumb.

“Could you what, baby? What does my pretty boy want?” You brush your hand through his hair and down the side of his face, cupping his chin.

He smiles sweetly at the nickname. “Can I put it in?” His voice is small, insecurity laced in his tone.

“Of course, baby.”

He nods quickly, reaching beneath you and aligning himself. You help him; leaning up, pushing your chest more in his face (though he’s not complaining), moving your hips to get him adjusted right.

You sink down slowly onto Edward’s cock, groaning and the sensation of him stretching your walls.

“Ah-h— uh…” he moans in your ear, trying his best to calm his heartbeat, or even steady his breathing. To no avail.

The sight of you, completely naked, cock pressed into your cunt, and blissed out will always have this effect on him.

“F-fuck,” he shakily groans and you rock your hips back and forth. He keeps looking between your face and where your bodies are connecting, unsure of what to focus on.

“Please… fuck. Y/n, please keep going. God! Don’t stop…”

You wouldn’t dream of it. Because fuck he feels amazing. He’s deep enough for you to feel his cock pushing into your cervix.

You lean in and capture his lips in a heated kiss. You push your tongue into Ed’s mouth, moving your jaws in time with each other.

You soon move your face to his neck, biting down. He exclaims in both shock and pleasure. You keep your teeth sunk into his skin until your satisfied with the mark that will be left.

You push Edward back, making him lay down again. You lean back, looking toward the ceiling. Edward wraps a hand around your breast and pinches at your nipple.

You moan at the mixtures of pleasure he’s giving you.

“Fuck, baby. Squeeze them,” you instruct. He does as he’s told. Using both hands to squeeze your tits, massaging them and occasionally rubbing your sensitive nipples.

You lean forwards and Eddie’s hands move to gently hold your hips as your fingers wrap around the columns of his throat, cutting of his circulation.

His head feels dizzy as you expertly roll your hips down onto him. A strangled moan leaves him and you don’t let up on your movements.

There’s a knot forming in your stomach, but you can tell Ed is closer to cumming than you.

You tighten your grip on his neck when you feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck… can I- can I cum?” Edward’s squeezing his eyes shut, concentrating as hard as possible.

“Cum for me, baby. I want you to finish inside me. I wanna feel you filling me up.”

And just as he tips over his own edge you release his throat, allowing the blood to flow back to his brain.

Eddie cums deep inside you, holding your hips down to his.

The moan he gives is pathetic and needy, high pitched as he breathes out your name.

Ed uses his hands to move your hips, making you grind a few more times on him.

You slide off of him, feeling hollow without him in you.

You let him catch his breath, smiling down at him.

“Did you..?”

You shake your head. He looks upset.

“Don’t worry, love. You’re helping me with that. Right?”

He nods aggressively.

“Good.”

You move to position your core above his face, looking down your body and into his expectant eyes.

“You’re going to eat me out until I cum. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Edward hooks his arms behind your hips, resting his hands on your inner thigh.

He stretches upward licking through your folds, pulling a moan from deep in your chest.

You push yourself down onto his face, relishing in the feeling of his tongue pressing inside of you. His nose grinding into your clit.

“Mm, fuck. Ed… just like that.”

He makes your hips grind into his face, causing pleasure to erupt throughout your body.

You look down at him, eyes connecting with his as you grab at his soft blonde locks. Ed moves to your clit, sucking and lapping at the sensitive nub.

Your moans are like honey to Edward, sweet and gentle. He feels himself grow hard again. He didn’t mean to but— fuck you taste so good, so sweet, and your noises, and the way you look right now— he couldn’t help himself.

“Eddie… baby… I’m so close.”

He almost misses it, too lost in thought. Almost.

He slows his pace, pressing his tongue flat against your clit and working it up and down. Even strokes bringing you close to your release but not fast enough.

You take it into your own hands, grinding down onto his face and getting the force you desperately crave.

The knot in your stomach tightens and pulls until you believe it truly can’t anymore.

You tug on Ed’s hair, pulling out a moan from his throat. That’s what draws the rope in you taught. Releasing on Eddie’s face, squeezing his head with your thighs as you cum, shaking.

He laps it up, devouring your climax and anything left. Fuck you taste so fucking sweet.

You huff and pull yourself off of him. Eddie is smiling hard, satisfied with your pleasure from him. You land beside him, turning your head to Ed and matching his smile.

You kiss him, tasting yourself. He leans his full body into you. “Are you hard again?” He looks ashamed of himself.

“C’mere,” you tug him on top of you, letting Edward prop himself up on his elbows before he slides into you.

“It’s gonna be a long night, huh?” You giggle and Eddie smiles back at you.

“I sure hope so.”

━━━━ ✭˚ ? >

You wake beside Edward, smiling as you tighten your grip around his torso. You run circles on his skin as your mind wonders.

This was so wrong. You’d just knowingly slept with a man who committed murder. He killed a man. And he was unfazed. If it’s all so bad… why don’t you actually feel bad about it?

He’s so sweet. And he loves you, that much you know. He’s willing to do anything to keep you safe. You love him too. Nothing should get in the way of that. And Michael? That sex-trafficking, abusive asshole deserved it. He had it coming.

Thank y’all for reading !! Had a lot of fun w this one but please remember that I condone none of these actions and it’s purely fantasy!

proofread and editorial help by: @spidey-multi

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carpisuns · 3 years ago

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it makes me so sad and frustrated when people act like your hobbies are a waste if you’re not making money off of them. i LIKE making something and knowing I will not be paid one cent for it. i LIKE sharing my creations for free. please stop pressuring me to commercialize my own enjoyment.

this goes for any monetizable hobby but i feel like this attitude is particularly sour toward fanwork. since you are working with a story/characters that are not your own, there is little opportunity for profit, which in a lot of people’s eyes makes the very idea of fan creation worthless. when I finally finished the 120k fanfic I’d worked on for over a year, I mentioned it to my brother and he said, “it’s a shame you spent all that time writing a fanfic when you could’ve been writing your own book.” But I don’t think it’s a shame! It was a lot of struggle and hard work and discipline to finish that project, and no I didn’t get any financial compensation for the probably hundreds of hours I poured into it, but I don’t regret any of that apparently “wasted” work. it wasn’t a waste to me. The payoff was just something different from money. That work was entertaining and cathartic and meaningful and fulfilling to me, and it produced an end product that I can enjoy and be proud of. and bonus, other people happened to enjoy it as well, and there weren’t even any unskippable ads between chapters! lol

maybe someday I will write and sell a novel of my own (something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid), but even if I never do, the things I make now, which never put a penny in my pocket and never reach beyond a small circle of fans, still have value to me and hopefully to others too.

btw this is definitely not a knock at all on people who do monetize their hobbies!! I have purchased many commissions and ko-fis and such and totally support your desire and right to make money from your hard work. and this isn’t to say that I won’t at some point want to open my own art commissions or whatever either. but even if I do choose to do that, it will always be important to me to make and share things for free. I already have a full-time job. my hobbies are what I do purely for my own enjoyment and self-fulfillment. A lot of times when you bring money into it, it starts feeling like work rather than a hobby, and I don’t want to spoil my delicious self-indulgent dinner with that kind of pressure.

idk I just think that there is something very pure and freeing and human and VITAL about doing something only bc of the joy it brings you.

which is why, even though I enjoy writing and drawing for my IRL job, the opportunity to write and draw for myself outside of work is so important to me. to create simply for the sake of creation rather than necessity. to express myself freely and make something that satisfies me before anyone else. to be my own customer! it’s just so good. i need that in my life. I’ll always need that.

tldr; time/energy spent on things you like is never a waste. enjoyment is a worthy purpose on its own

#sry for the rant lol I’ve just been thinking about this lately #mine #positivity

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sitp-recs · 3 years ago

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The Trouble with Wanting by @waldorph

Harry/Draco (2021, Explicit, 60k)

Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges; this is what happens next.

He rolled over and stared out the window at the trees of the park, the light of the city leaking through their boughs, before turning his attention to the storm on his arm finally calming. It was art, and beautiful, and nothing a Malfoy should have. Pure blooded heirs were meant to be pristine in all ways, virginal and unmarred and what had it gotten any of them? This was his, and he was free, and 18, and he had taken his own body back. He wasn’t anyone’s to offer up as penance, he never would be again. Whatever else, he was his own person.

I have @teacup-tai, who knows me so well, to thank for this incredible rec! Immediate post-war has remained one of my favorite tropes over the years - I lost count of how many times I screamed about Waiting by an Open Door, my go-to comfort read - and I’m really happy Tai sent this my way, another brilliant Draco POV crafted to attack me on personal levels because I’m that predictable. I’m amazed by the author’s - who I wasn’t familiar with before reading this - captivating narrative: immersive and witty while being very fun and sweet.

Draco’s voice is an absolute treat and his sense of humor seduced me right away. He’s earnest but posh, bratty but kind, alternating between moments of sharp wit, vulnerability, confusion and not-so-controlled pining. He feels very much like an 18yo kid who’s finally starting to live his life and making choices by himself for a change, good 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 him 👏🏻 I had a blast following his post-war routine: the hilarious and nuanced dynamics with the Silver Trio (Blaise my beloved has such an unique voice, different from what we usually see in fic which I found refreshing!), Draco’s casual affair and sexual experimentation with Theo, the happenstance (is it though 😌) of his meetings with Harry and the growing intense attraction between them. The slow burn is particularly satisfying and I’m also fascinated by two minor plot points: the first is Draco’s relationship with Simon - the parlour owner aka Drarry matchmaker - and the story behind their tattoos. It’s so interesting to think they somehow connect Draco and Harry while being 100% about their past, identity and interests. The other concept I really love is the long-term curse damage by Sectumsempra, what a fascinating idea! Love me some dramaH and body worship, please and thank.

This is definitely the fic for you if you’re looking for: oblivious Harry with no respect for personal space! Sentient murderer Grimmauld! Blaise’s relatable thirst for Weasleys! And my fave Ron & Draco brOTP 🙌 also the usual mutual pining and sexy UST with lots of touching and dancing around each other, we love to see it. Harry’s a force of nature, earnest, smooth and slightly unhinged, he’s openly crazy for Draco and really fun to read, a charming counterpart to Draco’s (attempted) composed self. A minor - but very important note: the smut is deliciously hot and self-indulgent, I’m here for feral Harry leaving Draco breathless with want oof, their first time is so so sexy but also endearingly light and fun (“So you’re essentially holding your dick hostage on a name” lmao the nerve!!!). For all their banter and sass this is a really sweet get together, full of joy and wonder, it made me really soft for them.

Beyond the top notch humor and romance, this story also explores organically Harry’s post-war struggles to find a place and purpose. I always appreciate it when Harry’s inner conflict with his Auror job is addressed and we get to see him finding another path to happiness, with Draco’s encouragement. This has become one of my favourite recent reads about the post-war, 18yo Drarry is not my usual brand but boy, they’re incredibly charming and this story made me laugh, tear up, and reflect back on my (long gone 🥲) late teen years. Lastly, don’t let the fic length scare you! This is a smooth and quick read, doesn’t feel like 60k at all. Happy Friday!

Read on AO3

#drarry fic rec

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saltedrats · 3 years ago

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Indulge me, if you please:

So I think we can all agree that Ruination threw A LOT of champions under the bus (not even talking about the ones involved, mind), but Kalista was one of the big ones. I’ve also seen a resounding agreement (Between Twitter and Tumblr) that TF absolutely should have been ruined for some good ol’ angst (‘oh no babe you’ve gotten fog horned this is personal now’ type angst) between Graves and him.

But then I was like, ‘wait a minute’ my girl Kalista! The literal fucking embodiment of revenge! I love her too!!! Wait a minute, Graves wanted revenge so bad he almost killed both TF and himself to get it! WAIT-

So, I’m going to explain my thought process behind this in the best that way I can.

So, Viego unleashes the Ruined mist across Runeterra, as followed (in the ruined king GAME, mind you), and Senna and Lucian do their little thing.

Now, to my knowledge, Kalista is bound to the shadow isles (like Thresh), but the Mist changed that (I believe, I’m ngl I didn’t actually finish sentinels of light so let’s say it does for the purposes of this) allowing them to go to different parts of the known world, and Kalista doesn’t seem that well versed in the concept of, you know, forgiveness. That’s where TF and Graves comes in.

Graves HATED TF in the locker, as is established. Kalista even has a voice line related to Graves, insisting if he just ‘says his name, his revenge will be complete’. Well, we can now assume that Graves isn’t really invested in that anymore. And, as Graves would probably put it, “uhhhh, which name, exactly? :)”

And this would likely piss Kalista off. She (they?) get wanting revenge yourself, girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight, am I right? But when she picks up on the fact that Graves FORGAVE TF? And the fact that they’re PARTNERS (in multiple senses)? Well, I don’t think she, or the hundreds of avenged (of killed) souls would particularly vibe with that.

There’s also the logic that Graves actually hasn’t forgiven TF, but instead that kind of skittishness of the past has been totally warmed over. Like he got over it, and he doesn’t care what happened because he has his TF now, and that’s all that matters. Like there will always be a tiny part of Graves, shoved back in the dusty cobwebs of his skull, that will never, ever forgive TF, but the logical rest of him is like “yeah, I’m over it, kiss me before we go blow up a bunch of people.” That’s just the type of guy he is.

But TF, on the other hand, worried about fucking EVERYTHING. This man definitely is not 100% right in the head (in my mind, after everything he’s been through, you can’t be. You can only watch your family leave you so many times, and watch all your friends die so many times before it starts to take a toll on you mentally). But he’s probably convinced himself that Graves hasn’t forgiven him (at all, in his poor anxiety riddled mind), and probably never will, and TF made his peace with it in his own way. Graves assures him like “shut up, stop worrying about that dumb Shit” and gives his boyfriend a big ol’ hug.

So, given this, Kalista decides to take matters into her own hands, no longer bound by the ‘you need to ask me for permission’. Think about Kayle, almost, the sense of self-righteousness and ‘this is how it should be, and will be. No one gets second chances’ type of ideal. Forgiveness doesn’t EXIST to Kalista and the souls tethered to her. So, Kalista does her equivalent of ‘taking’, using TF as another competitor to Viego and the sentinels, because Viego and Thresh are the ones who betrayed her in the first place.

Graves and TF eventually butt heads in the field, and TF being the girlboss he is, starts manipulating Graves. Insisting that this is Graves fault, that Graves never forgave him, and that Graves did this to them after he left TF during an apocalypse, and if Graves would get over it, everything would be alright (I will NEVER get over this point).

This, logically, destroys Malcolm. He sulks, 100% because boy, that hurts. But eventually Graves has an epiphany (maybe talking to Vayne, because I think if written correctly, their friendship COULD be wholesome and NICE and have great development for BOTH of them) and is like “wait a damn MINUTE- I AM OVER IT!”

This leads to the actual resolution, Graves HAS forgiven TF, but the issue arises where TF hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened all those years ago, which is how TF was able to be affected by Kalista at all. Graves didn’t want revenge of TF, TF in a way, wanted revenge on himself for the mistakes he made that lead to Graves being sent to the locker.

Then there’s the emotional confrontation, where Graves calls TF out of his bullshit and saves his boyfriend because of it (ah, the powers of assurance and smooches). Kalista gets sent to the shadow realm along with Viego (she just goes back to the shadow isles, because I’m not even addressing statue Viego)

TLDR; Graves is stubborn and TF is dumb, and Kalista doesn’t understand Marriage.

#malcolm graves #tf x graves #league of legends #my art #sorry for the essay #but this has been pinging around in my brain for a while #twisted fate x graves #twisted fate #kalista #ruination #sentinels of light #it’s a dumb idea but I think it’s good #maybe #im not obssesed with ruination im obsessed with what it could’ve been #there’s a DIFFERENCE #idiot pirates

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my-humble-abode · 2 years ago

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This is for @heir-of-the-chair, who was curious about my RwD binder!

It’s all digital for the moment, because a) I don’t want to print out new versions of all the character stuff after s3 comes out, and b) I started it right at the end of the school year, and I don’t have a printer, so I’m going to have to wait until school starts again at the end of January to be able to print anything on the school printer anyway.

Let the tour begin, I guess

This is the whole folder - we’ve got extra little folders for analysis and breakdowns of things, character profiles of NPCs and PCs, folders for my silly little sketches and fics (both of which are so self-indulgent that I probably won’t share them tbh, but honestly? who knows. also maybe i’ll draw/write something that i’m more inclined to share at a later date), then you’ve got theories, which is currently empty, but will probably be filled very quickly the second the first episode of s3 drops, and then the final folder is the in-progress transcripts of all the episodes.

There are also just some documents with my personal favourite moments from the show, the descriptions of their gala outfits (for possible drawing purposes later, especially Dani), an incredibly quick domino effect meme I made (which I’m happy to share if someone wants it) and then my personal modern headcanons for the crew (which I may also share if anyone is interested).

These are all the NPCs that I currently have profiles for - either because they’re really interesting, I love them, we have a lot of information for them or they’re somewhat important to any of the characters. You can see that some of them (Cressida and Elyse, my beloveds) have had more work done to them than others and that is because a) we have a fair bit of information for those two and b) I love them. There are a couple of important NPCs that aren’t here, mostly from s2, and the reason for that is because we don’t really know a whole lot about them, and definately not enough to fill a profile with. Mystra isn’t there yet, and neither is any of VR-LA’s old crew, because anything on any of those is entirely reliant on whatever happens in s3.

NPC character profiles include the character’s name, their race, their resident wierd little dude (if they have one - this is basically just Cressida and also maybe Hira? undecided on whether to count the frost salamander as a wierd little dude or not. also not 100% on if Lula counts, so), their appearance, personality, any character arc they may have (this one is particularly for Ione and Elyse, both of whom have some fairly major events and changes that we see), any relationships they may have with the rest of the crew or other characters, any noteable magic items/characteristics/quotes and, if known, their plane of origin, max HP, AC, alignment and age.

The character profiles for PCs are broken down further into one-shot PCs and guests, and the crew of the Per Aspera.

One-shot PCs and guests includes exactly who you thought it would: the Curse of the Amulet gang and our boy Hans. Yes, the Curse of the Amulet gang have last names, no, none of them are there, yes that is because I both keep forgetting to write them down and also I don’t know how to spell some of them. Also, yeah, most of the Curse of the Amulet crew haven’t been worked on yet, this binder is still a definite work in progress. I will get there though, I swear!

The crew of the Per Aspera is also very self-explainatory regarding who it includes, it is our main four PCs. Dani’s is the largest so far because her’s was the first one I made, and so, while it is also unfinished, it has had a bit more work put into it than the other three.

PC profiles include the exact same information as NPC profiles, but they also include who plays a character, a character’s class and a lot more detail, especially in the backstory department.

Like I said, the drawing and fic is just for me, and the theories folder is empty, so I’m not going to be putting screenshots of those in.

The transcripts folder is very organised, with a folder for level-ups, one-shots, Q and As and a folder for each season (although s3 is obviously empty right not). Each transcript includes a description of the episode up top, as well as a list of NPCs that make an appearance. In terms of completion, s1 ep1 is the only one with any real progress made, I’m about half an hour in, and it is taking approximately forever.

There’s the beginning of ep1, if anyone is curious as to how I’m formatting those.

But yeah, that’s basically the whole will-be binder! (I do have a physical binder to put them in, it’s just not with me right now, so no photo of that, I’m afraid). Happy to share specific things or give more detail or any of that jazz if people are interested, but. Yeah!

#rolling with difficulty #no id #i have no idea how to do alt text im sorry

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justnnyx · 4 years ago

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suna rintaro as your childhood best friend: headcanon + short fic.

being best friends with suna is quite the experience: sometimes you want to bash his head against the wall, and sometimes you want to bash YOUR head against the wall every time you think about the way he has a small smile on his face when he looks at you, the way he complains how you’re such a troublemaker but goes along with your antics anyways, and how hot he is - and oh, you...don’t have a crush on him, do you?

[ suna x gn! reader ]

[ fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff ! i live for childhood friends to lovers trope ! ]

[ VERY self indulgent, suna has a crush on you from the very start, just really fluffy stuff!! y/n hates barbecue-flavored snacks (??) ]

he teases you almost every hour of the day, but he definitely cares a lot about you <3

this man is lowkey overprotective

he knows everything about you! and you know everything about him!

if you tease him, he WILL remember, and he WILL tease you back

you: “riririn? hey, riririn?”

suna: “ew”

he lowkey likes you calling him that though

he leaves while you’re busy laughing your ass off so you can’t see him blushing like oK YOU TSUNDERE

he’s definitely going to call you by a cringey nickname next time

how does he even remember every time you made fun of him? like does he have a diary or something???

you both definitely have unflattering photos of each other

you know, just in case...

suna has a folder just filled with photos of you doing dumb stuff

when his friends ask him why he even has that folder in the first place, he tells them it’s for blackmail purposes

but in reality, he opens that folder at 1 AM and just goes through all the pictures, all while he has a smile on his face as he recalls all your shenanigans

suna is a simp for you, and that is an unchangeable fact.

“What’s that?” Suna asks as you place down a plastic bag filled with snacks on the table in front of him.

“A bribe,” you answer. “I’ll let you have all of these if you delete that folder.”

“What folder?” He asks, earning a pout from you. (He thinks it’s cute, but he'd rather die than say it out loud.)

“Don’t play dumb! The folder with all those weird photos of me!”

“No.”

"I have jelly sticks." You take out a pack of bright, multicolored jelly sticks, grinning. Suna's eyebrows furrow slightly. You know it's your win.

"Still a no," he replied.

"What!?" You were stunned. "Is there anything more important than jelly fruit sticks?!"

Suna looks right at you. "Yeah."

You are.

"Oh, come on!" You sigh. "What am I gonna do about these?"

Suna snickers at you. You blush in spite of yourself. Luckily, his eyes are glued to his phone.

"You can start by eating them," Suna suggests. "After all, you're the one who bought them."

"Argh.. even the barbecue-flavored ones?"

"Even the barbecue-flavored ones."

You sit on the chair, picking snacks that you liked, and avoiding those disgusting barbecue-flavored ones. "I don't know how and why you like those."

"You just have no taste."

"You're the one with no taste!" You huff.

"Agree to disagree."

You start opening your snacks and shoving them into your mouth, when you hear the click of a camera. You look at the asshole sitting in front of you, and lo and behold, he is holding his camera out. You gape at him, and he smirks at you.

"You...bastard!!"

Why oh why, did you have to fall for this guy?!

#oh hey that last line rhymed #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu suna #suna rintaro #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #fics #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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Star Wars Roleswap Side Story: Obligatory Canon Cross-over

“I am where I’m supposed to be.” It was one of the few truths Obi-Wan had, but somehow it felt like a lie. He looked between the people in the room - at the fascinated Gregor and Waxer, at the uncomfortable Cody, at the serene Jedi Master. He was impenetrable in the Force, his shields drawn up high. “I can give you the names of most every clone in the 212th. Definitely everyone in the 501st. It’s not my fault you don’t know who I am.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” the Master said mildly, and Obi-Wan groaned. “You may be surprised by what we know. For instance, I think our conversation has given me a fairly good idea of who you are.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan drawled, “do you know an Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Know him?” The man said, with an affected air of surprise. “Well, of course I know him. He’s me.”

Obi-Wan toppled over.

When writing longer AUs my mind wanders and small side stories crop up. Sometimes the side stories are the most self-indulgent shit physically possible. One might also say that this is me trying to prove to the world that I know how to write canon Obi-Wan. I know how to write canon Obi-Wan! I can! The key is that he’s VERY SAD!!!

Rest under the cut. It’s like 20k so sorry about that.

Obi-Wan’s vision broke, and his eyes flew open.

The scratchy, stiff sheets crumpled under his hands, the distinct faintly chemical and sweaty smell of the barracks hitting his nose. A blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, higher than Obi-Wan typically pulled it himself. He registered all of these things simultaneously, and in the next second Obi-Wan recognized that he had fallen asleep in Cody’s bed again.

He must have dropped off while they were going through the mission reports. They had been working together to track General Grievous’ movements...Obi-Wan wanted to bring a report to Master Qui-Gon. Cody should have just woken him up, he hated kicking him out of his bed and making him drag out the cot. None of the issued beds were big enough to share - something Hardcase had said was on purpose, although he wouldn’t tell Obi-Wan why.

Obi-Wan didn’t fight a large yawn, but he rubbed at his eyes anyway and fought to focus his vision. Cody was standing in front of him - no, not in front. He was standing against the wall opposite the bunk, eyes wide, as surprised as Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Which wasn’t saying much, but he was bursting confusion into the Force.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked. Or he meant to - it may have come out sleepier than he intended. “Why didn’t ya wake me up…”

Cody opened his mouth, then closed it.

Obi-Wan buried his face in the pillow, which smelled deeply of armor cleaner and sweat. The barracks smelled like sweat constantly. It was unreal. “What time is it?” Maybe there was still time to go back to sleep, if Cody let him. Probably not. If it was after 0500 then it was training time, and then aren’t you supposed to meditate time, and then eat real food time...

After one beat, then two, Cody finally said, “0900 hours.”

What! Obi-Wan bolted upright, forcing the sleepiness out as he desperately started looking for his shoes. Where were they?! “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Obi-Wan cried. Cody letting him sleep past 0500, was someone important dead? “Oh, man, I ghosted Rex - why didn’t Rex wake me up! Cody, have you seen my boots?”

But there was nothing but flabbergasted silence, and when Obi-Wan finally looked up all he saw was a confused Cody. They locked eyes for one second, two, before Cody’s expression hardened.

“Kid, how did you get in here? I’m the only one with keycard access to my bunk.”

“You gave me access,” Obi-Wan said distractedly. He was on the floor, looking underneath the bunk for his boots. Where could they have gone? This bedroom was tiny. “Are you feeling okay? You can get short-term memory loss from too many untreated concussions, you know. Maybe you should report to Medical more.”

A large, rough hand grabbed the collar of his rumpled jacket, pulling him up. And up - Cody pulled him up until they met at eye level, leaving Obi-Wan clamoring for balance like a scruffed tooka. Again.

“How,” Cody repeated slowly, “did you get into the clone barracks.”

“I thought you needed plausible deniability,” Obi-Wan quipped. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, the twinge of uncertainty in the Force. He tugged at Cody’s hand, almost slipping out of the jacket, until Cody put him down. He didn’t let go of Obi-Wan’s collar. Was he mad at him? Cody hadn’t gotten mad enough to shake him since that one time with the Senate and the electrical grid. “Hey, leggo’a me. Whatever it is I didn’t do it this time.”

“Seeing as I don’t remember giving a Coruscanti teenager access to a military base,” Cody said slowly, making Obi-Wan freeze, “I think you did something.” He tugged Obi-Wan around, one hand keeping him still as he scanned Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan found himself frozen, almost petrified. It was Cody. He’d recognize him anywhere, his Force signature perfectly familiar - but that look in his eyes was new. It was a side he’d never seen. Cody had a lot of sides that Obi-Wan had never seen, but this coldness… “Who are you?”

The Force bubbled. It was unsteady, tempestuous - impossible to read, cold and harsh whenever he stretched out a hand. He could still feel it, the remnants of that vision that burst so harshly when he woke up. He could barely remember it, but it had happened. What had he seen? What had he felt?

“Stars,” Obi-Wan said, dazed, “you do have amnesia.”

Cody froze. “What.”

This made sense! Obi-Wan shook himself, batting Cody’s hand away until he reluctantly released Obi-Wan. “I told you that you had to stop skipping medical!” Obi-Wan scolded, knowing that it was falling on deaf ears but savoring the opportunity to scold Cody for once. “This is what happens when you avoid Poppy all the time! Brain damage! And you call me irresponsible!”

Cody just gaped at him as Obi-Wan patted himself down. He had slept in his spacer disguise, with his comm stashed in the hidden pocket sewed into his jacket. The contents of the other hidden pocket pressed up against his back, providing a steady and reassuring weight. Obi-Wan finally fished it out as Cody started massaging his forehead, muttering to himself about what if he did have brain damage, what was happening, and pressed the emergency speed-dial for Poppy. He wouldn’t be happy about this. Obi-Wan felt gleeful. He was going to record it and sell copies.

But his com wouldn’t connect. Ben frowned, slapping it a little. Old hunks of junk. He looked towards the shallow closet, squinting at the spot where he just knew he had taken off his shoes. He always took them off at the same spot, every time. Cody hated mud in his room. He put them on that little rack in the closet. Right underneath the extra jacket he had accidentally left there and never bothered to take back, and the spare Jedi’s robes tucked in the corner just in case something came up...where had they gone?

The Force was screeching in Obi-Wan’s ear. He was having a bad feeling about this.

“I haven’t had a concussion in a month,” Cody said crossly. Obi-Wan ignored him, walking over to the private fresher and ducking his head inside. He squinted at the toothbrush cup. There was only one… “I don’t think that’s how amnesia works.”

Not amnesia. Mission shift. Time to start spinning banthashit. Hard.

“Wouldn’t I know more about amnesia than you do?” Obi-Wan said casually, closing the door to the fresher. “Don’t you remember that battle medic course you signed me up for? Too many concussions can have a delayed effect with memory. We gotta get you to medical. I think I remember reading that amnesia can happen right before a stroke.”

Cody’s eyebrow twitched upward in alarm. “That can happen?”

It had been a while since Cody believed a single word that came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. This was nostalgic. “Sure can,” Obi-Wan lied. “Let’s head straight there. I’ll run and go grab Rex. He’s your medical rep, he can help us figure this out.”

“Right,” Cody said slowly. “Let me just call Rex about that.”

“What did you just say? Your speech was slurring.” Obi-Wan quickly started pushing Cody out the door, body kicking into overdrive as he quickly kicked the door open. “I’ll call Rex right up. You better get going. Do you feel dizzy? Let me know if you start feeling dizzy.”

The barrack hallway was long and abandoned, which was a relief. Obi-Wan successfully wrangled Cody into the hallway, talking nonstop to trample over any second thoughts the man might be having. He successfully got them both moving towards the lifts, jamming the button to go to the first floor where the medical wing was located. Hopefully. Hopefully that was where the medical wing was located. Hopefully it hadn’t gone to where his shoes went, or his jacket and robe, or his toothbrush, or Cody -

“I’ll be right after you,” Obi-Wan said, after he wrangled Cody into the elevator and jammed the button to close the doors. “Just have to call Rex and - find my shoes. I think I left them in your room. Bye!”

The minute the lift doors closed, Obi-Wan took off at a sprint.

He considered aiming for inconspicuous, but he knew from long experience that no natborn was inconspicuous in a clone barrack. Hopefully Cody filled in his own blanks about who Obi-Wan could possibly be. Hopefully this was a Cody-limited phenomena. Regardless, Cody took security risks extremely seriously, and spending a week in the detention cells would put a crimp in Obi-Wan’s weekend plans. The last thing Obi-Wanted wanted was to be a security risk.

It was still shore leave, and it wasn’t long before Obi-Wan inevitably ran across clones he knew as he skidded on the tile floor. The first one he saw was Wooley, walking alone down the corridor with his face in a datapad.

“Wooley!” Obi-Wan cried, letting his socks slide him down the hallway. “Something’s up with Cody, I think he has brain damage!”

Wooley jumped, fumbling the datapad. He turned to Obi-Wan, and his far looser expression dropped into complete confusion. “Cody has - hey, who are you!”

Hypothesis tested. Worst-case scenario confirmed. Undertake evasive action. “Coruscanti scamp! Don’t worry, I’m heading home! Bye!”

Obi-Wan pushed himself down the hallway, bending his knees a little and letting the Force flow through him.

He knew the barracks like the back of his hand, and he knew the trafficked areas. He forced himself to take detours through the service corridors, through the storage and equipment rooms, but the barracks were designed for maximum capacity and they were stuffed full of clones. He could only avoid them for so long, and eventually Obi-Wan found himself breaking out into a room of bustling clones. Laughing, talking, scowling, yelling.

“Excuse me!” Obi-Wan cried. “Coming through!”

They all yelled or made a grab for him as he ran through the crowd, but the Force helped him evade each one. Damn their excellent reflexes. Obi-Wan was forced to jump in the air and utilize his Soresu in a truly disgraceful way, jumping off the top of Klaxon’s bald head to soar into the air and land on the other side of the crowd. Truly a bastardization of venerated saber techniques, and man would Master Anakin have loved that. Maybe he could lift it from the security footage later?

It was hard to draft plans in your head as you were running for your life, but Obi-Wan had a lot of practice. Granted, it tended to do weird things to your plans, but if they worked then they worked. Right now, Obi-Wan’s emphasis was to avoid being labelled a security risk by a barrack of clones who didn’t know he existed. Being a security risk was not fun. He would escape out the front door, hotwire a speeder, and beat feet away from here. Reconvene at Dex’s, call up the Jedi and see if they would help, fake his death, take on a new identity -

After a series of objectively impressive parkour moves down four flights of stairs, Obi-Wan burst into the lobby of the barracks. Clones were flooding out the side of the hallways, confused and aggravated at the noise, and Obi-Wan saw the tell-tale sign of flashing red lights on their buckets. They had sent out an alert. Fantastic!

But he was just a few feet in front of the door, and Obi-Wan pushed himself off the ground and landed right in front of it. He pushed open the double doors, not slowing down, and ran face-first into a brick wall.

Obi-Wan fell backwards, landing on his butt with the same force of the collision. He rubbed his nose, groaning, only to look up and see that the brick wall was a very unamused Cody. Rex was at his side, equally unamused. Damn. Cody and Rex could be maneuvered into complacency separately. Together...undefeatable.

“I will ask you one last time,” Cody said. He spoke very slowly and pointedly, and Obi-Wan winced as he recognized the ‘getting info out of perps’ voice. “Who are you.”

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, dusting off his jacket and fighting not to scowl. His muscles ached. It wasn’t easy to go from sleeping to running for your life in a few minutes. Qui-Gon would have been proud of that performance. Or maybe not so proud - he had gotten caught. He should have risked the fire alarm and went out through the fire exit.

“I’m a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said. He met Cody’s steady look with one of his own, setting his jaw firm and staring him down. If they knew nothing else about them, then they would know he wasn’t a coward. “And a member of the 501st.”

Rex scoffed in disbelief, but Cody didn’t blink. He just looked him up and down, dissecting Obi-Wan under a considering eye. “Prove it.”

“Jumping down four flights of stairs didn’t prove it?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously. But he sighed, reaching into the hidden pocket in his jacket and pulling out his lightsaber. The clones surrounding them started murmuring in shock. “This proof enough for you?”

He held the lightsaber out for inspection, keeping his thumb away from the button. If they didn’t recognize him, they wouldn’t recognize the lightsaber. But Rex just hissed in shock, and Cody’s eyes widened just the smallest fraction.

“Did you steal that?” Rex demanded.

From Rex, of all people? Obi-Wan jerked his lightsaber back to his chest, ignoring how it made the crowd ripple. “Are you calling me a chakaar?” Obi-Wan bit out. Naming somebody as a thief was serious business among clones - ‘fighting words’, as Rex put it. If you said that to someone and they punched you, then nobody would try to break it up.

But Cody just looked him up and down again, looking for something different. Obi-Wan abruptly felt really embarrassed, although he can’t name why. “What’s your name, kid.”

Obi-Wan lifted his chin, meeting Cody squarely in the eyes. “Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I’m not an intruder or a thief. I’m a Jedi, so show some respect!”

Rex’s jaw dropped. The clones broke out into yells, elbowing each other or yelling at Cody. Cody just raised a hand, silencing all of them, before pressing a button on his communicator. He maintained eye contact with Obi-Wan the entire time, and for a minute it felt as if neither of them were breathing. This odd stalemate - or this odd connection - couldn’t be broken. When Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, he only felt the same old Cody as usual. He was stinking with suspicion and caution. But if Obi-Wan opened himself up to it enough, he could almost feel something different. A note out of tune, a misplaced brushstroke. Something in Cody was different than it had been yesterday. But what?

A small holographic figure popped up on the comm. Its back was to Obi-Wan, so all he could see was a long cloak and a raised hood. Rex obviously looked at the small figure, then at Obi-Wan, then back at the figure.

“Commander. I thought you and the men were on shore leave.”

“Something came up,” Cody said shortly. “We have a visitor in the barracks. Human, thirteen or fourteen standard. Says he’s a Padawan Jedi by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The figure stood there in silence, the reception sparking a little.

“How interesting. I suppose I better come visit. Hold tight until I arrive.”

Cody eyed Obi-Wan, who was craning his head to try and get a better look at the figure. The crisp Courscanti accent sounded just a little like Qui-Gon’s… “Understood. Come quickly, sir.”

“I had the full intention. My, isn’t this fun…”

The figure winked out. Rex was running his hands through his blonde hair, huffing. Wooley was rubbing his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, as the other members of the 212th jockeyed for a better look. Obi-Wan was beginning to feel a little self-conscious. The man on the comm hadn’t been Qui-Gon. It sure hadn’t been Anakin. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was more mysteries on his plate!

Finally, Cody stepped aside, pointing at the door. “Back in.”

Aw, man! This was the worst morning ever. “Please don’t trap me in the detention cells, I hate those! They smell so weird, Cody!”

“Into,” Cody gritted, “the barracks.”

Obi-Wan went back inside the barracks, shuffling his socked feet the entire way.

********

They did not put him in the detention cells.

Which was a huge relief. The men finally seemed to believe him when he said he was a Jedi, so he was reasonably sure that they weren’t shipping him off to the Citadel anytime soon. Or worse - Coruscanti police troopers.

Unfortunately, they still put him in an empty storage room and told him to stay there. It was actually almost embarrassing - Obi-Wan had to wait outside the room for five minutes as Gregor and Waxer swept the storage room for air vents, loose tiles, and other methods of escape. Cody stood with him the entire time, expression blank but vibrating like an anxious Geonosis wasp.

Obi-Wan elbowed Cody a little, ignoring the man’s start of surprise. “I’m sorry about all of this,” Obi-Wan said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. It wasn’t his fault, but… “You have enough on your plate, and now you’re dealing with me again…”

But Cody just looked surprised, as if the concept of Obi-Wan’s apology was a foreign thing. Maybe it was. “It’s my job.” He paused a beat, struggling to figure something out, before saying, “Commander.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. He grinned at him, widely and brightly, and ignored how it made Cody’s Force signature spike in shock. “That’s what you always say!”

Before Cody could say anything else, Gregor and Waxer left the room. Gregor was rocking a bad case of bed-head, clearly roused from his habitual late wake-up on shore leave, while Waxer was still boggling at Obi-Wan. “All clean! Not that it’ll stop him, eh?”

“No, it won’t,” Cody said flatly. “Which is why you two are standing guard inside.” Waxer mumbled something about his day off. “What was that, Lieutenant?” Waxer muttered that he hadn’t said anything. “Right. You two, inside. Don’t talk to him and don’t listen to a word he says.” Cody looked down at Obi-Wan, who was blinking up innocently at him as if they both didn’t know full well he could manipulate people into thinking gravity made you float up. He held out his hand, expression grave. “Turn over your lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan’s hands reflexively flew to his lightsaber, clipped to his belt. “I wouldn’t -”

“I don’t know that,” Cody said shortly, “and I won’t risk my men. Lightsaber. Now. You’ll get it back once our company arrives.”

He was right. One Jedi, even a kid, with a lightsaber against two clones wasn’t a joke. Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber and placed it on Cody’s palm, ignoring the way Gregor and Waxer reeled in surprise.

Cody just faltered, looking down at the lightsaber and back at Obi-Wan. “You shouldn’t give away your weapon so easily,” he said. “Your weapon’s your life.”

“You’ll take care of it,” Obi-Wan said.

It wasn’t even in question - Cody’s belt had one clip for ammo left empty. He watched as Cody absentmindedly clipped the lightsaber to that empty spot on his belt, sliding in easily, as he gave further directions to Gregor and Waxer before they both shepherded him inside.

Unfortunately, the clones were thorough. Weirdly thorough. The room was completely stripped, and the air vents were covered by a strip of metal bolted into the wall. Gregor and Waxer could be goofy, but they took their jobs and instructions as seriously as anybody else, and they jammed their buckets on their heads and tuned him out no matter how many probing questions Obi-Wan asked. He could mind trick then - clone minds were susceptible to it - but if this was really the 212th then they’d be very prepared for that. Mind tricks were Qui-Gon’s favorite tactic, since he found them a peaceful and unobtrusive way of avoiding conflict, and all of his men were well trained in protecting themselves against psychic attacks.

Captured again. Anakin would laugh at him, after he was finished freaking out. Obi-Wan quickly grew bored, lying on the ground with his feet propped up against the wall trying to meditate. You always had to meditate through captivity, it made you look very cool and above-it-all. Somehow Obi-Wan had the feeling that the clones weren’t about to torture him for Jedi secrets, but it never hurt to be prepared.

After what felt like forever, the door finally slid open. Obi-Wan watched it upside down. He saw Gregor and Waxer stand stiffly at attention and salute, with the special kind of primness that meant a Jedi General was walking in. He had never thought this sentence before, but hopefully the mysterious Jedi General had fetched Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon would know what to do, or at the very least he wouldn’t get too ruffled if he didn’t.

He knew exactly what Qui-Gon would say. ‘The Force moves in mysterious ways’. ‘It seems we must pay attention to its call, no matter how strange things may seem.’ ‘This is an unexpected development indeed. Let’s tell Mace and watch him have a conniption.’ ‘Don’t tell Mace we’re doing this, he’ll have a conniption.’ He could practically hear him inside his head.

But the Jedi who walked inside the makeshift cell wasn’t Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon didn’t walk in after him. Only Cody, fully kitted up with his bucket under his arm as he hovered by the Jedi’s elbow. The Jedi flipped his hood down, peering at Obi-Wan with strange, bright eyes.

He was kind of prissy looking. Nice beard, with finely coiffed copper hair, but you could just tell that he put a lot of effort into it. His robe was neat and perfect, with nothing out of place. Not very Jedi like, or so Qui-Gon would say. He wasn’t incredibly tall, or incredibly muscular, or old or young. All in all, he was clearly a remarkably boring man.

The Jedi looked at Obi-Wan carefully. Obi-Wan made a face at him. From his position at the Jedi’s elbow, Cody wanted to die.

Finally, as if he just finished assessing the circuits of a droid for sale, the man proclaimed, “Well! This is a most unexpected development. Wouldn’t you say so, Cody?”

Cody grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Obi-Wan snarked, folding his arms. “A holo star?”

The man put on a fairly reproachful face. “That attitude is hardly becoming of a young Jedi. Why don’t you tell me how you got here, young one?”

Oh please. “I woke up in Cody’s bed and he shoved me in prison, that’s how I got here.” This guy was annoying, so Obi-Wan resolved to be more annoying back. “Has anybody seen my shoes? According to the Alderaan Convention, you have to allow incarcerated sentients basic dignities. Like clothing.”

Everybody looked at Cody, including Master Priss. Cody blanched. “I had nothing to do with how he got in my bed. He wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. I came back from morning training, and there was a teenager in my room. That’s all I know, sir.”

“You’re not trapped here,” Master Priss soothed, folding his hands into his robes just like Master Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan looked at him, unimpressed. “We’re just trying to solve a small riddle so we can return you to where you’re supposed to be. It would go faster if you helped us.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan drawled, “do you know an Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Know him?” The man said, with an affected air of surprise. “Well, of course I know him. He’s me.”

Obi-Wan toppled over.

He scrambled upwards, fighting for his lost dignity, and rose to his feet as quickly as he could. He was shorter than Master Priss, but Obi-Wan was too busy clocking everything else about the man. Obi-Wan’s hair was a darker shade than the Master’s light gold, but he knew for a fact that his hair darkened when he spent too much time in the sun. Blue eyes the same shade as Obi-Wan’s own. The sheer air of - of mediocrity -

But that wasn’t quite true. When the man stood in front of him, right side up, there was something different about him. It was immediately recognizable to Obi-Wan, who had spent his life trailing at the heels of people like this man. It wasn’t in the stance, and it wasn’t in the eyes. It wasn’t in the Force signature or their power in the Force. It wasn’t Anakin’s sheer power, or the distinctive smell of Quinlan’s psychometry.

It was Qui-Gon’s calm and comfort. It was the way that Mace Windu stood absolutely still, how he could imitate a statue. The humble way Plo Koon held himself, always ready to extend a hand to those below him.

It was the look of a Master Jedi. One of the Master Jedis.

But it sure as kriff wasn’t him.

“Bantha crap,” Obi-Wan said instantly, making Waxer choke. “This ain’t a very funny joke, Master.”

But the Jedi just folded his hands in his robe again, one eyebrow raised. Exactly - exactly - like Master Qui-Gon. “I rarely joke, young padawan. Would my lightsaber convince you?” With one elbow, he brushed his cloak aside - revealing Obi-Wan’s own damn lightsaber hanging at his hip! Obi-Wan’s eyes jerked to Cody, who still had Obi-Wan’s own lightsaber attached to his belt. What the - “Tell me, what year do you think it is? No wrong answers.”

Obi-Wan told him the year, which made the Master hum and the clones look at each other in confusion. “So it’s the right year,” Obi-Wan guessed, judging by their reactions. “So you can’t be me, see? As if I would be caught dead with that stupid accent.”

The Master just looked slightly offended. Or as if he was acting offended. “I rather like my accent. It lends an air of dignity.” Cody snorted quietly. “Yes, thank you for your input, Commander.”

“How am I supposed to believe you when all you do is lie?” Obi-Wan asked crossly, propping his hands on his hips. He ignored the Master’s affected innocent look. “You have a funny look in your eyes, Master. You could be a Sith for all I know. You could have infiltrated my men, stole my life. Too subtle for Dooku, but not for the Sith Master, right?”

Something sharp burst from the Master’s Force presence before he quickly swallowed it. “Subtle enough for Ventress, I believe.”

Obi-Wan just snorted. This guy really wasn’t him if he didn’t even know that. “Ventress never tortured kids even when she was evil. Nowadays she’d just swipe at me with a lightsaber until I went away. She’s nice once ya get to know her.”

“Good to know,” the Master said softly, but he just straightened. This time, he didn’t try to put on a harmless look. He just looked at Obi-Wan steadily, intently, piercingly. “The Force does not lie, Padawan. Listen with a heart unclouded by fear. What do you see?”

“I’m not scared!” Obi-Wan said, maybe unconvincingly. He screwed his eyes shut and tried calling for the Force, but it just slipped between his fingers like so much smoke. “I just - you’re just trying to get my guard down, aren’t you?”

For some reason, for just a second, the Master looked a little heartbroken. But he wiped the expression away so quickly that Obi-Wan thought he must have imagined it. “I have more than twenty years experience on you, so I’m afraid your guard being up or down has little impact on whether or not I would emerge the victor in that encounter.”

Cody adopted Expression #3, ‘the General is so stupid and I want him to die in a tragic accident’. “General,” he hissed, leaning into the Master’s ear, “that’s just going to scare him more.”

“Really? Anakin finds risk assessments comforting.”

“General Skywalker doesn’t know what risk is, sir.”

Maybe that was what did it - a sentence that Obi-Wan could have heard at any time, in any place. Maybe it was just that Cody was unchanged, one certainty amidst a terrifying and inscrutable future. Or maybe Obi-Wan really was scared, and he just instinctively searched out a safe harbor. Steady, consistent stone.

Obi-Wan ran forward a little, ignoring how the two men started, and clasped Cody’s hand in his. He used both of his hands to clutch onto Cody, ignoring the way Cody tensed and half-drew away, and screwed his eyes shut tightly.

Reach out with the Force. Cody was there, steady beside him. But there was another signature, shields slowly lowering, allowing Obi-Wan to catch a glimpse of its subdued brilliance.

It was warm and comforting. It was cold and brittle. But it was mostly nothing at all. You couldn’t exactly feel your own mark in the Force. It was like seeing the back of your own eyes, or always knowing what people thought of you.

It was no different than his, at heart. Obi-Wan felt a great deal of other things batten down the hatches of his heart - sadness, tiredness, devotion, duty - that were foreign to him, but they came from that same root. Just him.

And something very different.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The Master was looking at him solemnly, with shallow blue eyes that Obi-Wan finally recognized as his. Whatever Obi-Wan had seen him, he had seen in Obi-Wan. Whatever that thing could possibly be. Obi-Wan didn’t know.

Despite himself, Obi-Wan clutched tighter to Cody, pressing up close against his side. He felt disoriented, alone in a strange and familiar space with a familiar and impossibly strange man. Distantly, Obi-Wan felt Cody wrap an arm around his shoulder, and he buried his face into Cody’s side. It smelled, as always, of armor cleaner and blaster charge and vulcanized rubber.

The words ‘I want to go home’ rose in this throat and died on his tongue. He was home. He could be a million lightyears away and still be home, so long as Master Anakin was blazing a trail in front of him and Rex was bringing up the rear. So long as Cody’s arm was around his shoulder - an unusually affectionate gesture for the rigid man.

Rex always said that home was people. The building wasn’t what made the barracks and the Jedi Temple home - it was the people. Maybe it made sense that Obi-Wan felt so far from home: his family was around him, but they couldn’t be further away.

There was a powerful spike of discomfort in the Force before it was quickly shuttled behind durasteel shields, so hot and fleeting Obi-Wan could have imagined it. Most masters would have released that feeling into the Force instead of hiding it away.

“If everybody’s in agreement regarding the situation,” Master Kenobi said, “then I believe it’s time to figure this out. I hope the Grandmaster and his regiment are on-planet. With any luck he has some time to settle this out.”

“Yes,” Cody said, from above Obi-Wan, “General Yoda is quite famous for his ability to answer questions.”

“Master Yoda is renowned among the Jedi for his wisdom,” Master Kenobi chided gently. “Even if he can’t help, I’m sure there are - books and things. In the Archives. Yes, perhaps we will attend to the Archives first. We must make haste to the Jedi Temple and figure out this business before we are all deployed again.”

“The Temple?” Obi-Wan cried. He separated from Cody, already missing the rare contact, but the man’s arm stayed around his shoulder. “You know the dumb Archives aren’t going to be any help.” And Obi-Wan really didn’t feel like starring in The Freak Show, Population One.

“The dumb Jedi Archives are the repository of thousands of years of accumulated Jedi knowledge and wisdom regarding the Force,” Master Kenobi said, somewhat incredulously. “There’s no better place in the galaxy to look.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, finally shrugging off Cody. He tried not to miss the warmth. “Yeah, Jedi knowledge and wisdom. But this reeks of something far stranger, Master. The Force can give insight into the past and future, but I’ve never known it to spin stories about strange lives and jumbled times. Something ‘unprecedented in the Force’ happens to us, like, once a month. The Jedi Archives didn’t have any records on Malachor, did it?”

Master Kenobi froze, just a little. Obi-Wan didn’t blame him. Malachor had been the weirdest, most uncomfortable thing to happen to him until today. And he was counting the drinking contest with Hondo. “Yes, there are far more things between the stars than dreamt of by the Jedi.” But Master Kenobi just shook himself, focusing on Obi-Wan again. “You’d do well to trust in the Jedi, young one.”

“I thought it was trust in the Force.”

“Jedi trust in the Force,” Master Kenobi said, infuriatingly evasive. “Trust in the Jedi’s trust in the Force.” This guy was Obi-Wan’s worst nightmare. He sounded just like Master Qui-Gon. “Regardless, we’re already attracting quite a crowd in the barracks. Have a little trust in the Jedi to untangle this mystery.” He looked at Cody, ignoring Obi-Wan rolling his eyes again. There was an entire branch of Jedi philosophy where the point was to never answer a single question, ever. Quinlan was convinced old masters adopted it just to be annoying. “I believe I ought to call my padawan for some help. He’s rather good with - er, children.”

Why was this getting worse every second? Obi-Wan didn’t want to know who this guy’s padawan was! He was probably being groomed into max insufferableness.

But Cody shifted, just a little. “Maybe letting him bunk in the barracks would be a good idea, General. I’m not certain how much attention we should draw to this. And my men can keep an eye on him here.” He glanced down at Obi-Wan, who shot him his most winning smile. “He’s rather slippery.”

“I saw him jump off Klaxon’s head!” Waxer cried out eagerly. “And do a double somersault! It was awesome!”

“That’s our General,” Gregor said, elbowing him. They both had their buckets on, but Obi-Wan could feel the smirk. “I bet he backflipped out of the crib!”

“You really think it was awesome?” Obi-Wan asked, pleased. He decided to ignore the ‘our general’ part. “I can jump three stories, you know. At least!”

“Jedi don’t brag, Padawan,” Master Kenobi said, almost reflexively. He was stroking his beard, like he wanted to show the entire room how he was being as thoughtful as possible. “You’re proficient in Soresu, then?”

“Yeah, it’s my primary form,” Obi-Wan said, distracted by the beard. It was actually pretty nice… “Master thought it would be a good idea. He made me learn like five others, but Soresu’s the best. Master really wanted me to get jar’kai down, but it’s really hard.”

“It’s a form for a more active mind, certainly.” Master Kenobi fell silent for a second, stroking his beard, before speaking again. “Qui-Gon Jinn was always certain in his focus.”

“Yeah, why aren’t we just calling Master Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan folded his arms again. He couldn’t believe that Cody had called Master Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of his actual General Qui-Gon. This was really Qui-Gon’s hangar. “He’d figure this out in no time. This Force stuff is his specialty. I know he’d love to figure out a Force riddle instead of how to blast up ships or pretend to discipline me or something for once.”

Something undefinable spiked in Cody, but Master Kenobi just offered Obi-Wan a placid and cheerful smile. “Master Qui-Gon is rather unavailable at this time. You’ll have to settle for my help, I’m afraid.”

“No offence,” Obi-Wan said, “but I’d rather get help from anyone else.”

“You have to be hungry,” Cody said to Obi-Wan. “Let’s break and get some food. The General will make his calls, and you can apologize to Klaxon for the footprint you left on his head.”

“Aw, Cody…”

“No arguments,” Cody said firmly. Master Kenobi looked a little offended, and very creeped out. “I’ll escort you to the mess. And if you try to make a break for it one more time -”

“I’m on dish duty for a week,” Obi-Wan repeated rotely. “I know, jeez.”

“Can you do that?” Master Kenobi asked, alarmed. “Cody, you can’t just put me on dish duty, can you?”

“Apparently I can,” Cody told him. There was a distinct air of glee in his Force imprint. “And Gregor is fetching you breakfast while you make your calls, General. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Commander, I don’t believe -”

“Eat, or you’re on dish duty.”

“Commander!”

At least Obi-Wan was released from his boring prison. Unfortunately, Cody kept rigidly to Obi-Wan’s side, after assigning Gregor and Waxer to attend to General Kenobi. Obi-Wan was a little resentful that his older self was just as irresponsible as himself. He could tell that this was not the first or the last time Cody had to make General Kenobi eat.

It was impossible to miss the stress that tightened on his shoulders, or his subtle air of bewilderment. Obi-Wan was really good at bringing that out in Cody. Rex said it was his superpower.

Where was Rex? Obi-Wan extended his Force signature, turning towards the 501st mess before Cody grabbed his collar and directed him back towards the 212th.

“You keep me from my own men,” Obi-Wan said, wounded. “Don’t trap me with that stuffed shirt’s platoon. Come on, I want to give Kix a heart attack. Or make Echo short-circuit. It’ll be really funny!”

“The 212th are your men,” Cody said shortly. “Rex left for the Temple a while ago to wrangle his own Jedi. And the last thing I need is the 501st excited about something.” He looked away and grumbled under his breath. “Uncontrollable maniacs, all of them.”

“My dear Cody, you mistake me,” Obi-Wan teased. “I am a calming influence. My youthful and optimistic presence puts everybody on their best behavior. My Jedi air of serenity and peace helps me -”

“Tell complete lies?” Cody asked. One eyebrow was twitching in slight amusement. “You’re not as subtle as the General.”

“Why tell subtle lies to somebody who expects a lie from me?” Obi-Wan said archly. “Giving people what they expect distracts them from the truth.”

“I don’t know you,” Cody pointed out. “What would I expect from you?”

But Obi-Wan just shook his head. Confidence was easy to find when you were a Jedi - when the energy of the universe whispered truths in your ear. “You know me,” Obi-Wan said simply. “You knew me when you first saw me. There’s no hiding that.”

And Cody had nothing to say to that - nothing, at least, he would say out loud.

*********

The mess was actively entertaining - so entertaining that Cody spent the entire time staring eagerly at his comm waiting for the call to come in from Rex that General Kenobi was ready to go.

Obi-Wan found himself surrounded by adoring fans to a degree he had never experienced. It would have been overwhelming if it wasn’t awesome. When he first met all of the clones they had been very stiff and awkward around him, and by the time they became friends he wasn’t much of a novelty anymore. But apparently the clones did like General Kenobi, and his ‘younger self’ was a novelty, which meant that practically the entire battalion was trying to get a look.

“Why yes,” Obi-Wan said, “I am the commander of the 501st - but I step in for the 212th quite a bit. Master Qui-Gon’s not much of a soldier, so I help him out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself talented - but I can beat any padawan in the Temple, if that’s what you mean.”

“My first battle was the battle of Christophsis! Anyone hear of that one - yes, we have a few veterans in the crowd! I was a fresh padawan, but I like to think I helped save the day -”

“So there’s no black market ring? How do you get your smokes? That’s inefficient. Listen, I have a great network, if you pass me a comm I can tell you how to set it up -”

Obi-Wan was just telling everybody about how the 501st and the 212th were the best, most heroic battalions in the GAR when Cody’s comm beeped. Almost instantly, he stood up and pulled Obi-Wan down from off the table where he was standing and addressing the crowd like Chancellor Palpatine.

“Show’s over!” Cody called. “Back to work, men!”

“But it’s shore leave!” Boil called. “Come on, Commander, he was telling us about -”

“Leave unless you want me to find you work,” Cody barked, which was always effective at making clones disperse. At the slightest threat from Cody they could become ghosts on the wind. So could Obi-Wan, but he was currently trapped in the cold grip of Cody yet again.

“Come on, don’t give me that look,” Obi-Wan complained, wriggling free of his grip as they escaped the mess hall. “I was improving morale! You always gotta improve morale. That’s why you let me smuggle all those magazines in.” Cody choked. “Ship magazines, Cody.”

“I have it on reliable authority that Jedi don’t brag.”

“Jedi seek to spread happiness and contentment among communities,” Obi-Wan parroted instantly. “Which translates to morale. You can’t argue that one.”

“Arguing with you is a waste of time.” Cody rolled his eyes, marching quickly down the hallway and forcing Obi-Wan to jog to keep up with him. “General Kenobi is a master of rhetoric. You just - bludgeon people with words.”

“Bludgeoning people with words is vastly preferable to bludgeoning them with my lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said primly. “That’s pacifism.”

Cody looked down, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re a pacifist?”

The question was so stupid that Obi-Wan broke out into laughter. He didn’t laugh very often, or ever very loudly, but the image of a pacifist Obi-Wan was just too funny. “Is anybody?”

And Cody had nothing to say to that.

In the greatest relief of Obi-Wan’s life, he saw Rex standing at the front door of the barrack. He was kitted up, with his bucket under his arm, talking seriously with General Kenobi. Who was stroking his beard again. Yes, yes, you’re very impressive for thinking. That guy got on Obi-Wan’s nerves. He wasn’t even sure why.

If Obi-Wan ever met his past self, he wouldn’t try so hard to sound like a fancy adult. Young one this, Padawan that. Good Jedi don’t do this, a Jedi doesn’t do that. Adult Masters were always condescending, but it was just so fake coming from General Kenobi. As if he knew that important adults were always condescending, so he bluffed his bad hand. If there was one thing Obi-Wan always had, it was a bad hand.

“Rex!” Obi-Wan cried, waving. “You sold me out, fucker!”

Rex jumped almost a foot in the air as Cody kneaded his brow. General Kenobi looked like he wanted to die a little. Obi-Wan ignored them all, running up as Cody sedately followed after him.

“Ah, Ge - Commander,” Rex said weakly. “It really is you.”

“Who else would I be, Jar Jar Binks?” Obi-Wan lightly punched Rex on the arm, startling him into a smile. “I’m telling the guys you snitched.”

Rex smiled broader, making Obi-Wan smile back. “Then you’d be the snitch, right?”

“Only if it was to Cody.” Obi-Wan glanced backwards at Cody. “And he says that General Kenobi’s of the 212th, not the 501st. So what kind of jerk are you stuck with? It’s not General Jack-Off’s padawan, is it?”

Rex looked like Life Day had come early. General Kenobi had buried his face in his hands. “As a matter of fact, I am. He’s waiting right outside, if you want to meet him.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” Obi-Wan said seriously, reaching up and clasping Rex on the shoulder. “I’d rescue you if I could.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I wouldn’t. ‘Cuz you sold me out, asshole.”

“What language did you teach him?” Cody accused Rex, who balked. “Because he sure as spit didn’t learn that kind of talk from me, Rex.”

“I didn’t do anything -”

“Then why does your commander know how to curse like a Corellian spacer?”

“I don’t control her!”

Uh oh. Cody was working himself up into a patented Cody v. Rex lecture. Rex argued back, and they could go on for an hour. Obi-Wan and General Kenobi glanced at each other, thinking the same thing for the first time since they met, and they both quietly made their way to the front door.

It would be fine. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to solve this whatsoever, but it was fine. Maybe Master Yoda would help - improbable, but a lot of improbable things had been happening today. All he had to do was deal with whatever poor sucker was stuck with General Kenobi as a padawan, cope with the inevitable moralizing of the Jedi Temple, and then bounce so he could actually figure something out -

But when Obi-Wan stood outside the barracks, squinting into the dim Coruscant sunlight, he didn’t find General Kenobi’s padawan at all. All he saw was Master Anakin, leaning on a parked speeder. A teenage Togruta a little older than him was sitting on the front hood of the speeder, goggles pushed up to her forehead and scanning the new scene with abject interest, but all Obi-Wan could focus on was his completely familiar master.

He was the same age, thank goodness. He was wearing the same clothing, his hair was unbrushed in the exact same way, and every inch of him screamed power and conviction just the same as always. Obi-Wan had half-thought that he’d see a Master Anakin twenty years older, if he did at all, but he was instead met with the sweet relief of a familiar sun in the Force.

“Master!” Obi-Wan cried.

Master Anakin almost fell over.

Obi-Wan didn’t pay any attention to it. He ran forward, ditching all sense of dignity or coolness, and instead almost tackled his master in a tight hug. It was always Anakin who hugged first, who spread out his arms or picked him up with a bright laugh, but sometimes even Obi-Wan needed that sure confidence. No matter how hard Obi-Wan tried to imitate it, he just couldn’t get it.

Slowly, then with confidence, Master hugged him back. It felt the same, and his robes smelled faintly of engine oil and grease. Less so than usual. Maybe he had remembered to wash his clothing for once. But Obi-Wan saw a scar on his flesh arm, one that was completely unfamiliar to him, and he knew that the strangeness extended far beyond the barracks and the strange General Kenobi - no matter what he wanted to believe.

Obi-Wan quickly separated from him, finding himself talking a mile a minute. “Boy, am I glad to see you! Do you know what’s going on? Is this your fault somehow? It’s okay if it is, just be honest. Nobody recognizes me, and Mr. Holostar over there is telling me that he’s me, and I still can’t find my shoes. Can you fix this, Master?”

Master stared at him for a second.

His face split into the widest grin Obi-Wan had ever seen from him. That was never a good sign. Obi-Wan tok a cautionary step back.

Master broke into giant peals of laughter. It was almost hysterical, wheezing and breathless as he promptly lost his shit.

“Master!” Obi-Wan cried. “This isn’t the time - Master, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, kriff!” Master wheezed. “Oh - oh man!”

The Togruta behind him was also doubled over, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

General Kenobi appeared at Obi-Wan’s elbow, making him jump. He was still kneading his forehead, expression creased in utmost exhaustion. “Anakin, please be mature about this.”

“Mature!” Master cackled. “Mature!”

Something terrible began to occur to Obi-Wan. He looked at Anakin, then back at the door. Cody and Rex had emerged, Rex somewhat sheepishly. Cody looked very pained. Rex, however, was hiding a laugh.

“It’s you,” Obi-Wan said slowly, with mounting horror. He turned back to Master, who was rapidly losing breath from lack of oxygen. “You’re the padawan? Master, how could you!”

“This is the best day of my life,” Master said, almost unintelligibly.

Fantastic. This was just like that one time with the pentapus. Obi-Wan resorted to immature tactics and kicked at Master’s shins, making him duck out of the way. “Will you focus for once? I’m glad you’re having fun, Master, but we have a real situation here!”

“Yeah, Master,” the strangely familiar Togrutan said, grinning widely with sharp canines, “we have a situation here!”

“Don’t mock me,” Obi-Wan snapped. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The Togrutan giggled one more time before hopping off the speeder hood, bowing to Obi-Wan. He couldn’t help but notice that it was the bow of a padawan to a master. “Padawan Ahsoka Tano. I might have stolen your master a little. Really - hah! - sorry about that, Padawan.”

Oh no.

Obi-wan’s stomach dropped. He looked at Anakin, who had finally subsisted laughing into simple sheer glee. General Kenobi still looked as if he wanted to die. And Ahsoka Tano - Ahsoka Tano! - was smiling at him with a friendly, predatory air.

Ahsoka Tano!

“Master Tano!” Obi-Wan said, voice creaking ominously. He hastily bowed, lower than she had. “I apologize for snapping, I just didn’t recognize you. You’re supposed to be - you’re normally my master’s master, not a teenager who looks - very different. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”

Horribly, that just made Master laugh even harder. He was propping himself on the speeder just to stay upright, almost coughing with hysteria. General Kenobi buried his face in his hands.

“Master Tano, huh?” Master Tano mused, crossing her arms. “Sounds about right to me. It’s an honor to meet you, Obi-Wan. I like the nerf-tail.”

Obi-Wan fought a flush, touching it self-consciously. “Really? It looks good, right?”

“It looks great. Human hair’s so funny. Can I touch it?”

“Y - yeah, sure!”

Master Ahsoka Tano touched his nerf tail, faintly impressed. Obi-Wan fought the flush even harder. Teenage Master Tano was very - nope! Not going there!

“You never want to touch my hair,” General Kenobi said, somewhat wounded.

“That’s because you start crying if anybody messes it up,” Master said gleefully. “The nerf tail’s a great look, Master, what happened to it?”

“I remember your haircut as a teenager, Padawan,” General Kenobi said frostily. Master Tano perked up. “And I remember that tube top, Ahsoka. None of you test me today.”

“So how old are you, Obi-Wan?” Master Tano asked pleasantly. “I’m bad with human ages, but...twelve standard?”

Ouch. Obi-Wan fought a wince. “Fourteen. I was apprenticed to my master the day I turned thirteen. But I’m almost fifteen!”

“Fourteen!” Master cried. “But you’re tiny!”

Obi-Wan looked backwards and held out a hand. “Cody, please return my lightsaber.”

Cody visibly hesitated. General Kenobi slowly shook his head. “I’m...afraid I can’t do that, sir.”

“That was a long pause, Cody!” Master complained.

“I’m sixteen,” Master Tano said eagerly, “but I think we’ve been in the war around the same amount of time. Would you be down for a spar with me? I’m your grandmaster, right? No offence, but I’ve always wanted to know how I would measure up against my grandmaster when he was my age.”

Wow. Master Tano, asking him for a spar!

Oh no. Master Tano, asking him for a spar!

Obi-Wan fought a sputter, desperately searching for that Jedi calm. “Oh, really, it’s no contest. You’re the best duellist the Order’s ever seen, Master Tano. You were the first Sithkiller in a thousand years! It’s really no question -”

“Sithkiller?” General Kenobi breathed.

“She’s the best duellist in the order?” Anakin demanded. “Hey, what about your old master, Obi-Wan?”

“You’re such a flatterer!” Master Tano laughed delicately. “Please, call me Ahsoka!”

“Yes, Ma - Ahsoka!”

“Obi-Wan! She’s the best duellist? I could kill a Sith if I wanted, you know!”

“But you haven’t,” Ahsoka said archly, crossing her arms. “And why the disbelief, Master?”

“The - look, you’re very talented, Ahsoka, but -” Master visibly floundered, caught in a rhetoric trap. “Come on. I get Obi-Wan’s out of the running -”

“Master!”

“ - but Mace Windu’s still here. And, you know, a certain - I’m very disappointed you have so little faith in your master’s capability here, padawan.”

Both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka crossed their arms simultaneously. Master faltered.

“Oh, no,” Ahsoka said, “please go on. Tell me more about how my padawan Anakin Skywalker’s such a better duelist than my adult self.”

“Can we go back to the out of the running comment?” Obi-Wan said. “I’d like to hear an explanation for that one.”

Master looked pleadingly at General Kenobi. “Hey, Master, help me out here -”

But General Kenobi just stroked his beard. “I’m also interested in the ‘out of the running’ comment.”

That was when Rex broke out into audible laughter, and when Obi-Wan glanced back he saw that even Cody was smiling. Then Ahsoka broke out into laughter, and General Kenobi hid a smile behind his hand, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh too.

He had moments like this with Master Anakin and Master Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan nagged Master Anakin enough, and Master Qui-Gon always dropped unhelpful aphorisms, and when Master Qui-Gon dragged them all along in a madcap scheme Master Anakin and Obi-Wan were always the first behind him.

They had just been rarer lately. Even as the war pushed them all closer together, sometimes Obi-Wan felt as if they were drifting apart. Meeting Master Tano and discovering what she had been doing for the last eight years should have been unifying, bringing a fractured lineage back together, but instead it just seemed to stir up something old and buried and hurt in Master Anakin. He’d been a little more volatile lately. He’s been quick to laugh, exuberant and ready to have fun, and Obi-Wan loved being around him at those times. But he was quicker to get angry too. Quicker to yell, or even punch or kick things. Someone usually quickly gets Obi-Wan out of the room whenever that happens, but lately…

Some weird part of Obi-Wan wanted to ask Ahsoka if her master punched and kicked things too. If he sometimes left her to fend for herself on the field, or if he sometimes accidentally destroyed her things. Or if he never had - because Ahsoka was a perfect master and a perfect padawan, and she could always do what Obi-Wan couldn’t.

Master Anakin was always really sorry when he accidentally broke one of Obi-Wan’s datapads. He had told Obi-Wan not to tell Master Qui-Gon about it. Which, obviously - Obi-Wan wasn’t a snitch!

But Cody had really wanted to tell Master Qui-Gon, ignoring Obi-Wan’s protests, and Master Anakin had to pull him aside specifically and talk to him about it. Cody ended up not telling Master Qui-Gon, but he hadn’t looked very happy.

Maybe it was that thought, or that memory of Cody’s subtly unhappy face, that made Obi-Wan ask. “So if Master and Ahsoka are General and Commander of the 501st, and Kenobi’s the General of the 212th, what does Master Qui-Gon do? He’s not, like, a toddler, is he?” General Kenobi hadn’t made it sound like he was a baby, but the man was good at bending the truth. Something awful occurred to Obi-Wan. “Is Count Dooku a baby? I can’t handle an evil baby right now.”

The laughter cut off very abruptly.

The clones and Ahsoka looked at each other, and Master Anakin and General Kenobi were fixedly not looking at each other. General Kenobi just made eye contact with Obi-Wan again, the picture of trustworthiness.

“No, Master Qui-Gon is my master. Not Anakin’s. As I said, he’s out of contact right now, but rest assured he has little to do with the war.”

Cody and Rex glanced at each other. Cody & Rex expression #5 - ‘are you gonna tell him?’.

A hot spike of anger flared in Obi-Wan’s gut. General Kenobi’s eyes widened a little, but nobody else seemed to notice. He crossed his arms instead. “If he’s so happy in retirement, then why can’t I see him at the Temple?”

“It would not do to distract ourselves right now,” General Kenobi said, shaking his hands into his sleeves. Master turned his face away. “Let’s hurry back to the Temple. We can answer all of your questions there.”

“Tell the truth,” Obi-Wan said evenly.

“I’m not telling any lies,” General Kenobi said, just as even.

“A lie is in the intention, not the words.”

Everybody looked at Obi-Wan, then General Kenobi, then back at Obi-Wan, as if they were watching a volley match.

“You’re describing deceit, which has a wide spectrum of morality,” General Kenobi said. We can debate ethics in the speeder, if you like.”

“And you’re misdirecting.”

“Which one might call tact, rather than deceit.”

“And one might call tact an excuse to tell lies rather than the inconvenient truth.”

“What might that inconvenient truth be, padawan?” General Kenobi asked.

Obi-Wan’s fists clenched. He couldn’t help it. “Just tell me if he’s dead or not.”

But General Kenobi didn’t miss a beat. “Qui-Gon Jinn passed into the Force a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

That should have relieved Obi-Wan. He knew it, from the minute that silence fell when he asked his question. He just wanted to hear that jerk General Kenobi admit it. Say the word, make it real. But that wasn’t the word. That was hardly an admission of truth at all.

“I didn’t ask you if he passed into the Force or not,” Obi-Wan said, fighting the snarl raising in his words. Don’t take that tone with me, padawan… “I asked you if he died.”

“Forgive me,” General Kenobi said, recognizably sarcastic and strangely bitter, “I assumed you understood Jedi euphemisms.”

“I don’t hide behind Jedi platitudes,” Obi-Wan cried. He swept out a hand, fighting the strange new fury building in his chest. Or maybe a very old, very familiar fury. “It’s a disgrace to the dead to hide their sacrifice behind kind terms that protect only ourselves. What, the venerable master with a grandpadawan still can’t face it?”

“Maybe I was trying to be kind to you.” General Kenobi’s face was blank, but there was something taut around his eyes. Obi-Wan couldn’t read it. His own facial expressions weren’t that subtle. “But I see you did not consider my good intentions above your own grudge against me.”

Ahsoka hissed. Obi-Wan ignored her. “I’ve served for almost two years. I know people die. I learned that when I was thirteen. If lies and platitudes are your definition of kindness, then you can keep it.”

“And what a great soldier you are,” General Kenobi mocked, “that you allowed so many to die.”

Silence hit them all like a brick.

Everybody was openly gaping at General Kenobi, who only seemed to realize what he said after he said it. His pale face whitened, a deep horror flashing in his eyes, before he abruptly turned on his heel and opened the door to the speeder.

“It’s time to get going,” General Kenobi said, and everybody scrambled to obey.

For some reason, that was what struck Obi-Wan. That everybody scrambled to do exactly as General Kenobi said. That they turned to him for direction, that when something went wrong he was the first they called. Always calm, always thoughtful and in control.

A mean comment like that wasn’t out of place on Obi-Wan. He wasn’t always good at biting his tongue, and sometimes stuff like that was the only way to make people look at you. When everybody around you was always busy, sometimes you had to do dumb stuff just to make people look at you. Even if it was just to scold or stare at you with disappointment.

But everybody always looked at General Kenobi, and it was clear that he never said things like that. Maybe that was why they respected him, trusted him. He was an adult. If Obi-Wan ever wanted people to treat him like an adult, would he have to wear that stupid accent and talk so politely and act so in-control all the time?

Could you only be a venerable master, a strong Jedi, if every word that came out of your mouth was a lie?

So far, General Kenobi had only told Obi-Wan one truth. He could only read one thing about the man, one absolute fact that could be hidden from everybody but Obi-Wan.

General Kenobi really, really, really hated Obi-Wan Kenobi.

*********

Thankfully, Anakin and Ahsoka liked talking too much to allow an awkward silence to fester in the speeder.

Ahsoka wanted a lot more detail regarding her legendary duelist status, which Obi-Wan was more than happy to provide. He had defaulted to the most amazing story he knew about her - how she met Master Anakin and helped save Naboo - but once Obi-Wan got to the part where Ahsoka Tano and Padme Amidala landed on Tatooine with a broken ship Master Anakin jumped in and started rambling about his piloting. Ahsoka didn’t miss it, but she didn’t press. Obi-Wan was slightly put out that he hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to tell her about how she chopped Maul into little tiny pieces. But Master really did hate anybody bringing up his childhood.

Not that anybody did. Not that anybody really knew. Obi-Wan had heard every part of that story a million times except for the part where he learned what Anakin had been doing on Tatooine, which had only come out when Master had been very drunk. He had said a lot of really disturbing stuff that night. Cody had ended up letting Obi-Wan sleep in his room.

Maybe it was for the best that Ahsoka didn’t even seem to know. Some things you just didn’t want to know about the people you loved. They just made you feel too bad and awful inside. You were always so useless in that moment. The bad thing had happened so long ago that you couldn’t change it, but it was even worse how you couldn’t change the awful feeling inside the other person now.

It made Obi-Wan wonder what other person Master Anakin would be if all that stuff when he was a kid hadn’t happened to him. Maybe he would hug him less often, or he wouldn’t be so mad all the time. It looked like he would never know - it had happened here too.

The man sitting in the passenger seat of the speeder, right in front of Obi-Wan as the wind ran tracks through his perfectly coiffed hair, hadn’t spoken since they left the barracks. In a strange moment of objectivity, Obi-Wan realized that he was sitting behind an Obi-Wan Kenobi who had only fought the Clone Wars as an adult, and never as a teenager.

Wow. Glad Obi-Wan had dodged that bullet. He’d much rather be doing this as a kid than as an adult. You wasted less time.

They definitely weren’t speaking to each other, especially considering the one last fight they had before they left. Cody and Rex had wanted to go with them to the Temple - whether to help give the report, try and keep things from exploding, or babysit them, Obi-Wan didn’t know - but General Kenobi had shut them down. He and Cody even walked away and did that not talking/not arguing thing that Cody and Master Qui-Gon did. Eventually Cody straightened and saluted, General Kenobi clapped him on the shoulder and said something in his ear, and then they were leaving without Cody and Rex.

It made Obi-Wan a little anxious, although he couldn’t identify why. There was probably nowhere safer in Coruscant than this speeder, especially for Obi-Wan. Nowhere safer than where they were doing. It was stupid how rarely Obi-Wan felt safe. He was being really stupid.

As Coruscant whipped around them in flashes of light and sound and color, exactly the same as Obi-Wan knew yet uncomfortably different, he couldn’t get the image of General Kenobi clapping Cody on the shoulder out of his mind. Just like a Jedi. Confident, reassuring, and authoritative. He listened to everything his men said with careful consideration, and then decisively made his choice. His men looked up to him, his padawan was independent but always obedient, and he carried himself with an air of dignity and respect.

Obi-Wan had never gotten that respect from Cody. It was ridiculous, but Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He would never get that respect. But was that the kind of respect he wanted? Did he want Cody to look at him how he looked at General Kenobi?

He should. General Kenobi should be exactly who Obi-Wan wanted to be when he grew up, and that calm and decisive respect should be what he strove to attain with his men and Cody. But he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out why.

Cody had tossed his lightsaber back to Obi-Wan before he left, expression serious. Obi-Wan caught it easily out of midair, letting it flip back into his hand.

“Stay out of trouble, sir,” Cody said, instead of anything else. “And find some shoes.”

By the time the trip ended, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had been exchanging saber tips for the last ten minutes and were best friends, Anakin had been ganged up on at least three times, and General Kenobi hadn’t said a word. Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to kick the back of his seat.

It was galling having to wait for the little machine to print out his visitor’s badge, especially when he knew all four of the clones supervising visitor’s entry and was fully aware that they ranked each person who came through based on insufferability. Obi-Wan felt a strange pressure to score low on the insufferability front, yet knew he was incapable.

Ahsoka looped her arm through his, elbowing him in the side. Obi-Wan felt like his face was on fire. “So you said you know both of the battalions? My memory isn’t nearly that good. I hang out with Rex and Torrent, mostly. I think I intimidate the other guys.”

Wonder why. “Do you intimidate a lot of people?”

“Everybody in my Initiate class,” Ahsoka said lightly. “Bite one too many kids one too many times…”

“They were just jealous,” Obi-Wan affirmed, as they swerved into the main hall of the Temple. “Everybody always hates the Initiate at the top of saber class.”

“I can attest to that,” Master groused.

“Your bragging didn’t help your case much, Padawan,” General Kenobi said mildly. He tilted his head at the passing Jedi, who all bowed in return. “Now, everybody please act normally. We don’t need a spectacle.” He eyed Obi-Wan, who scowled back. “Dare I ask why you’re dressed like a hoodlum teenager?”

“Dare I ask why you stapled that dead womprat to your face?” Obi-Wan asked flatly. “Get off my back.”

Anakin and Ahsoka started laughing again. General Kenobi started to massage the bridge of his nose before abruptly stopping so he could nod his head at a group of padawans bowing to him. “Are you going to be difficult the rest of your stay?”

They were both aware of how difficult Obi-Wan could be when he wanted to. “After two years of learning from my Master, I can out-difficult a Hutt.”

“I already apologized for my harsh words,” General Kenobi said, “so it’s for the best if we both move forward.”

“That’s a blatant lie. You did not apologize. You are literally just straight-up lying now -”

But then three elderly masters had to stop General Kenobi to extend well-wishes and congratulate him on his latest successful campaign, marvelling at Knight Skywalker’s growth. General Kenobi smiled bashfully, Knight Skywalker preened humbly, and Ahsoka subtly turned Obi-Wan’s face away so they could whisper at each other.

“Being at the Temple can be so annoying sometimes,” Ahsoka whispered. “It’s boring without Obi-Wan and Anakin, and with them it’s like they’re heroes and I’m invisible.”

“Exactly!” Obi-Wan hissed. “Your friends are never home, and there’s nobody to hang out with. And there’s nobody interesting around to spar with you.”

“Of course you have friends,” Ahsoka said, almost sour. “Apparently I’m intimidating. The last friend I had…”

She trailed off, something about her darkening in sadness, and Obi-Wan carefully bumped his shoulder against hers. “They know you’re different,” Obi-Wan said, “and they’re scared. The older Jedi hate acknowledging that us padawans are different than they are.”

“Right, that’s exactly it!” Ahsoka huffed, crossing her arms. “You know, Master Ka’al stopped me for ten minutes to talk about how in his day, they redirected the Initiates not meant for life as a Jedi Knight to more ‘constructive’ roles. And he totally knew I would have flunked out if it wasn’t for the war. It was so rude.”

“They almost flunked me out too!” Obi-Wan said, unexpectedly excited and accidentally far too loudly. “That’s just -”

“They what?” Master Anakin asked, glancing between Obi-Wan and a resigned General Kenobi. “They almost washed you out? You? That’s some weird difference, right?”

“You don’t know everything about me, Anakin,” General Kenobi said innocently. “Step up, you two, let’s be off.”

“It is a difference, right? You and this kid are completely - Master, right?”

Then it was another ten minutes of Anakin demanding General Kenobi’s secrets, which were all parried effortlessly. At times, they were riposted with an embarrassing anecdote from Anakin’s own childhood, which made Ahsoka cackle and left Obi-Wan occasionally surprised. Every story from Anakin’s earlier life, before he was fifteen, was only shared at his discretion. It wasn’t as if Obi-Wan sat around campfires with Master Tano and heard about Anakin losing his baby teeth or whatever. She spent most of her time saving the galaxy or something. Obi-Wan wasn’t too sure. It was a secret, apparently. Which was fine. Secrets were fine. Who cared.

They didn’t go to the Council chambers, which was familiar. The Council rarely sat for a full session and heard reports or questions anymore. You just filed a question or something with them and they’d get to it. Obi-Wan saw a lot more of them than probably 90% of the Order, as all of Qui-Gon and Anakin’s missions were very important. As Master Qui-Gon was on the council, Obi-Wan heard a lot of dirt on them all the time. But maybe he was biased - Master Qui-Gon was only on the Council because he lost a bet with Mace Windu. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure who was the real winner or loser there.

Today, General Kenobi just cheerily got rid of Ahsoka by asking her to run off and find Obi-Wan some ‘proper clothing’, and they shepherded Obi-Wan into one of their large briefing chambers. So they were seeing the Council between military briefings, then. Goes to show that this entire weird day was just another day to both Obi-Wan and the Council.

Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was all just a thing that happened to people sometimes. Things happen all the time, to people all over the place. Granted, they normally happened to Obi-Wan, but that would make this just another thing that happens.

Obi-Wan looked down at his socks. He was going into a Council meeting - in a place that did not exist, yet did - without shoes. Master Qui-Gon and Master Anakin would think this was the funniest thing ever. As this was Obi-Wan’s problem, he was less amused.

There were three people around the giant holo table, with two others checked in by hologram. Obi-Wan was relieved to see that Master Yoda was not here. He wouldn’t have been able to handle that.

Instead, he got Mace Windu, with a very familiar lady standing next to him, and Plo Koon standing on the other side. He saw the crisp hologram figure of Shaak Ti checked in by hologram. It was a strange relief that most of these people were familiar. He didn’t know what he would have done if Shaak Ti was an Initiate or something.

They all stopped talking when the three of them walked in. The various clones talking and working at the table stopped too, glancing upwards before professionally going back to work. Obi-Wan watched the Jedi’s eyes slide from General Kenobi, to him, then back to General Kenobi.

“Fellow Councilmembers,” General Kenobi said, bowing slightly. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”

Obi-Wan slowly pivoted on his heel to gape up at General Kenobi, who was radiating innocence.

He was a Council member. Him. Him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Council member. This was a joke. A joke, or a dream, or an imaginary tale.

It felt like a mallet hitting his skull, sending his teeth ringing. He had done it. Obi-Wan Kenobi had accomplished every dream he had ever had, every childhood fantasy staring up at the pinprick lights in the creche.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the perfect Jedi. He had done it, all of it. He had accomplished it all. A Council member, master to the hero Jedi Knight and a talented up-and-coming Padawan. According to Ahsoka, he was the general of the GAR, and had slayed Sith during his own padawanship. Everybody he walked past bowed to him. Children stared up at him with sparkling eyes. Obi-Wan didn’t know how far his reach extended beyond the Temple and the war, but he was willing to bet that he had his fingers in a few political pies too. And all of that while maintaining a humble grace and an ideal Jedi air of serenity.

Councilman Obi-Wan Kenobi was the dream Obi-Wan had once had. A dream he had given up on two years ago. And realizing it all, Obi-Wan felt…

“ - duce yourself. Padawan?”

Anakin’s familiar hand gently prodded at Obi-Wan’s back, and he startled out of his reverie. All of the masters were staring at him with abject fascination, ruining his dreams that this was something that happened every day.

“I asked if you would like to introduce yourself, Padawan?” Mace Windu asked evenly.

“Yeah, Mac - Master. Uh. Hi.” Obi-Wan just barely remembered to bow. “Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander of the 501st. Nice to meet you.”

Mace Windu didn’t look amused, but he never did. “I see we’ve already met, Padawan.”

Duh. Obi-Wan practically had to backflip away from Qui-Gon trying to get him to attend Teatime With Mace Windu. “Master Qui-Gon Jinn says to tell you that you stole the aloe from his quarters and that he wants it back.” The room froze, somewhat awkwardly, but Obi-Wan just kept the bored expression on his face. “Whoops. Did that not happen?”

The expression on Mace’s face clinched it. That draw of the brow - an old sadness. “I believe I would have told Qui-Gon that I’m not responsible for the bugs eating his plants.”

“So it is you,” Obi-Wan said bluntly. He glanced at the woman next to him, who was looking more delighted than fascinated. Something about her was really very… “Holy shit. Depa? Is that you?”

“Padawan Tano isn’t like this,” Mace said to General Kenobi. “You can’t blame Skywalker.”

“Trust me, Mace, I am struggling to figure out who to blame.”

“Am I younger where you’re from?” Depa asked Obi-Wan, smiling brightly. She really was just the same, if a little sadder. But Obi-Wan was used to that. “I remember working on creche duty with you at that age.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed on creche duty since The Accident. “I can’t believe you’re on the Council now,” Obi-Wan said, amazed. “That’s amazing. You knew you had it in you, Depa. You totally deserve this. You’re an awesome Jedi.” He looked around as Depa beamed. “So are you on the Council instead of Master Dume?”

“Do you mean Caleb?” Depa asked, surprised. “He’s really a Council Master where you’re from? Oh, that’s darling.” She looked at Mace, elbowing him slightly. “Master, Caleb’s on the Council! Isn’t that so cute?”

“Depa, please.”

“I’m just imagining his little feet hanging off the seats -”

“How many people are messed up?” Anakin asked, alarmed. “How far does this go? Is Yoda a baby? Obi-Wan, if Yoda’s a baby you have to tell me. I’m your master, you have to tell me.”

“Yoda hasn’t even been born yet,” Obi-Wan hissed.

“It’s a pleasure to have young Obi-Wan with us here today,” Plo Koon rasped, and they all fell guiltily silent. “Why don’t we describe what happened from the top.”

General Kenobi drew himself up seriously. “Of course. At 0910, I received a call from my second Marshal Commander Cody…”

Blah, blah, blah. As usual, General Kenobi left out a lot of stuff, but he probably had everything important in there. Everybody nodded or furrowed their brow or looked intent. Anakin shifted from foot to foot, and Obi-Wan subtly elbowed him to keep him standing straight. As usual. If Obi-Wan checked out enough, he could pretend General Kenobi’s droning voice was Master Qui-Gon’s.

But Master Qui-Gon wasn’t here. He never would be. That was alright. It really wasn’t any of Obi-Wan’s business. But…

“And you, Padawan Kenobi?” Shaak Ti asked, snapping Obi-Wan back to focus again. “Does that fit with your experience?”

“Probably.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was asleep and then I was here. That’s all I got.”

Everybody glanced at each other. Master Anakin had face #5 - ‘Obi-Wan is punishment for my sins’. Interestingly, General Kenobi was wearing the exact same face.

But Plo Koon was still looking at Obi-Wan, making him stare at the ground. You couldn’t be rude to Plo. You just couldn’t. “I seem to recall you had more than a few night terrors in the creche, young one.”

General Kenobi looked sharply at him. “You’re still having the visions?”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to hunch his shoulders. “You aren’t? I can hardly turn them off!”

“I mastered them once I became a padawan, and they ceased,” General Kenobi said coolly. “They are very dangerous to the untrained mind. Didn’t Qui-Gon coach you through this?”

“We’re a little busy, what with the war and all,” Obi-Wan snapped. “They’re useful, anyway! They’ve gotten me out of a jam or two.”

“Visions of the future can be dangerous,” Plo Koon intoned, tapping a finger on his respirator. “They can tangle the viewer in their infinite paths. Many matured Jedi masters have lost themselves to a vision that runs too deeply or too far. They’re not a power to use lightly.”

“Oh, the whole damn galaxy’s dangerous,” Obi-Wan snapped. Plo Koon looked at him. Obi-Wan fought a flush. “Sorry, master. But it is. It’s not as if I like having them. I know they’re dangerous. But they’re not something I can just start and stop. You can’t always control the dangerous stuff in your life…”

Mace put his hands in his robe, face creasing thoughtfully. “Times like this I do wish we had Qui-Gon here to consult,” he said ruefully, before nodding at the two Obi-Wans. “Thankfully, we have his two best students here to help.”

“Three,” Obi-Wan piped up, before pausing. “Oh. Just two, I guess. Sorry, Master.”

“I thought you said Ahsoka trained me,” Master asked, clearly wondering this for a while. “Why did both Ahsoka and Qui-Gon train me?”

“Because the no-good, closed minded, idiot Council believed the Senate when they framed her for terrorism and kicked her out when you were fifteen,” Obi-Wan said blandly. “Your words.”

Everybody looked at Anakin, who flushed. “Okay, first of all, not my words. And - what? They can’t just kick out a Jedi on the Senate’s say-so. Ahsoka wasn’t - she wasn’t arrested, right?”

“No, she’s some kind of spy now. I don’t keep track.” Obi-Wan turned back to the council, fighting the beating of his heart. “And to answer the question you didn’t ask, Master Koon - I did have a vision last night. The minute it broke, I woke up here.”

“What did you see?” Shaak Ti asked.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. He looked at General Kenobi, who was keeping an expressionless face, and at Master Anakin, who seemed stuck on the Ahsoka thing. He wanted Cody here. He didn’t know how he would help, but - but he wanted Cody here.

Who were these people? He didn’t know. They were all going to help. They said they would get him home, and they probably will. General Kenobi was a hero, and he could probably do anything. The most brilliant minds in the Jedi Order would help, and they would unwrinkle the Force and make everything right again.

When had Obi-Wan stopped believing that? When had he lost faith that the Jedi could make everything okay, that the Force would always protect him? When did he lose confidence in his master’s ability to guide him, or lose confidence in himself that he would grow up to be a good man?

“Maybe I saw this,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “Maybe I saw a strange, obscure vision, warning me of a possible self, and I’m trapped in that vision now.” He looked at General Kenobi, at his pale face. “Or maybe this is a vision you’re having, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you haven’t mastered them as well as you think you have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” General Kenobi said. The room was still, the only sound was the crackle of the holotable. The clones were deathly quiet, fading into the background as they had been trained to do. “I can assure you, I’m capable of recognizing when the Force is showing me something. Or when a landscape isn’t real.”

“Just like you were so sure on Malachor?” Obi-Wan taunted, and General Kenobi blinked in a minute flinch. “I don’t know, General. The Force has a talent for making us confront the secret people within ourselves. I wouldn’t put it past your dangerous visions to put the person you hate most in front of you.”

Anakin put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. “Obi-Wan, maybe you should -”

But Obi-Wan just shook him off. He refused to break eye contact with General Kenobi - pushing, pushing, pushing. “You didn’t even tell your own padawan about how you were almost kicked out of the Order, did you? Of course you couldn’t. It doesn’t fit your image. The Order’s greatest Jedi couldn’t possibly be a failure.”

“That’s enough,” General Kenobi said. It came out as a strange sort of strangled whisper. “That’s not why -”

“God forbid everyone see what a lying, mediocre, failure you are!” Obi-Wan found his hands shaking, and he clenched them tightly into fists. “You can fool the whole damn galaxy, Obi-Wan, but you can’t fool me. I’m the one person who knows how much of a phony you really are. Maybe the Force thought that you needed me to come tell you so.”

“Then it would have pulled a figure from my past,” General Kenobi said harshly. At some point Anakin had backed up, but everybody else was just watching them. “It would have taken you from Melida/Daan, or Bandomeer. It wouldn’t give me a boy that never existed.”

“Then maybe both of us are learning something today,” Obi-Wan said finally. He took a step back. One, then two. “Maybe I needed to see the kind of person I would have been if it wasn’t for the war. I guess the Force wanted to show me how thoroughly the war ruined me!” He waved a hand at the assembled Council, chest rising and falling faster and faster. “I could have had this. I could have had your nice life, with your nice little family that worships you and pays attention to you. The war took that away from me! But - but good! Because I’d rather be my awful, childish, imperfect self than live a lie!"

He couldn’t take this anymore. He didn’t want to be cruel to this person anymore - this trapped, hurt person, who draped himself in nice hair and a fancy robe and who knew he didn’t deserve any of it. This person who knew there was something wrong with his family, but who never admitted it. Who could lie to everybody, maybe even lie to himself, up until everything comes crashing down. Who still thought being a Jedi meant anything at all.

Obi-Wan turned on his heel and left the conference chamber. He walked down the hallway, the familiar marble of the Temple floors cold against his socks. It hit on a strange memory, one that Obi-Wan had almost forgotten. He and Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri and Quinlan had all snuck out of their Bear clan rooms after curfew to go play in the hallways. They had felt like such criminals, tossing balls back and forth and running up and down. He could remember it now: the way that he ran as far as he could, as long as he dared, the cold tile hitting his feet in a steady rhythm. After long enough, it felt almost as if he was flying.

Obi-Wan didn’t run down the hallway of the Temple, but he let his feet guide him. People stared, eyes running down his nerf-tail to his lightsaber and to his socks. He didn’t know them, and they’d never see him again. In a way, Obi-Wan was long dead. Anybody who saw him would only see a ghost.

Was Quinlan an adult? Holy shit, was Quinlan, like, thirty? He had to find Quinlan. That would be so funny. But what if Quinlan was ripped and tall? What if he was taller than adult Obi-Wan? He couldn’t take that chance.

Thankfully, his feet didn’t lead him to Quinlan. They lead him towards a private training room instead, where he found Ahsoka warming up on the mats. She didn’t seem surprised to see him. She just grinned as she leaned over to touch her toes, padawan bead swinging against her cheek.

“Council meeting didn’t go so hot?”

“Had an existential crisis. Yelled at venerated Jedi masters. Yelled at myself. The usual.” Obi-Wan sighed and stripped off his jacket, hanging it up on a peg as he rotated his own shoulders. “When I go home Cody’s going to take one look at me and ground me for a week. He doesn’t even know. He can smell guilt on you.”

“Is that how he always knows when Master Obi-Wan snuck a cup of caff?” Ahsoka asked, delighted. The rest of Obi-Wan’s sentence clearly processed through her. “Wait. Why does Cody ground you?”

“Who else is going to do it?”

Ahsoka stared at him for a second, before shrugging and pointing to a corner of the salle - where, thankfully, brand new shoes his size were waiting. Obi-Wan eagerly jammed them on his feet as Ahsoka went back to her stretches.

“That tracks. Normally Master Obi-Wan is the one who...you know, gets on my case about stuff, gives me Archive duty as a punishment, that kind of thing. Master Qui-Gon doesn’t…?”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, sitting down on the floor to match her stretches. “He believes in...I think Admiral Yularen called it ‘free range children’. He just lets me do whatever, mostly.” Obi-Wan fought to keep his voice casual about it. It was pretty easy. He had a lot of practice. “It’s really fun. Whenever we’re on Coruscant, I just do whatever I want.”

“Man, I’m jealous.” Ahsoka did a truly stunning act of flexibility that made Obi-Wan stare fixedly at the ceiling. “Skyguy’s awesome, and he’s great to train with, but he doesn’t really do that whole teaching jag either. Which is totally fine -”

“It’s great, he teaches so many awesome moves!”

“Right! But then it’s usually Master Obi-Wan teaching me the meditation stuff and...whatever.” Ahsoka waved a hand. “You know. Do you?”

“I thought I didn’t,” Obi-Wan said, “but maybe I do.”

“Word.” Ahsoka scrambled up, offering a hand to Obi-Wan and helping pull him up. “You’re still down for that match, right?”

Ah. Obi-Wan laughed awkwardly. “You know, I really am very tired -”

“If you don’t fight me you’re a pussy.”

“Jedi do not respond to childish insults,” Obi-Wan said primly. Then he called his lightsaber to his hand from his jacket, letting it smack right into his palm. “Commanders of the 501st, however, do.”

Ahoska grinned viciously, unhooking both of her sabers from her belt and lighting them. They weren’t her usual white, but instead a green and a greenish-yellow. “I guess that makes this an even match.”

“That’s a relief,” Obi-Wan said loftily, thumbing the button on his lightsaber and letting it explode in a familiar blue glow. “I was afraid I would have to take a handicap.”

“Oh, you are so on.”

********

It was close.

Honestly, Obi-Wan was just ecstatic over that. Ahsoka Tano was Ahsoka freaking Tano. She had been trained by Count Dooku. Back in the day, she was the Jedi you sent to the war zones. If you had a dark sider problem, you called Ahsoka Tano. It was no small wonder Anakin Skywalker was that good - he had been trained by the best. And then he trained Obi-Wan, who was...well, Obi-Wan. Even this Ahsoka had been trained by the best. Although apparently Count Dooku hadn’t been involved, which was probably for the best in the long run.

Obi-Wan had the sense that if he had been the same age as her, he might have won. As it was, after an extremely long battle that left footprints on the ceiling, part of Obi-Wan’s nerf-tail singed off, Ahsoka’s whole padawan braid burned off, and more than half a dozen burns for each of them, Obi-Wan ended up on the floor with Ahsoka’s blades crossed over his neck.

“I win,” Ahsoka panted. She was dripping with sweat. “Give up?”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said, “this time.”

She withdrew her sabers, and Obi-Wan withdrew his own. She reached a hand down and helped him up, but Obi-Wan jokingly pulled her to the floor with him. They both collapsed on the floor, out of breath and gasping, and lay there for a few comfortable seconds before Ahsoka spoke again.

“Wow. I can’t believe I just beat Obi-Wan freaking Kenobi.”

“Three inches taller and I’ll end you,” Obi-Wan said darkly.

“You’re the best duelist in the Order, Obi-Wan!” Ahsoka cried. She sat up, wiping sweat out of her eyes, and Obi-Wan reluctantly followed her. “To be as good as you were when you were my age...you don’t know what that means to me.”

“I’m certain you were better than him,” Obi-Wan said, jerking a thumb towards the door. “He hadn’t fought with the 501st when he was my age. So congrats, Master Tano - the student has become the master.”

But Ahsoka just looked down at her hands, at the two lightsabers clenched in her fists. She dropped them in her lap, wiping her hands on her dress. “I can’t believe it,” she said quietly. “They all said I was too angry. I wasn’t good at the politics and diplomacy classes. I was too much for them. If it wasn’t for our dwindling numbers and the war, then I’d be in some Corp by now.”

“Well, screw them!” Obi-Wan said hotly. He folded his legs, sitting in front of her. “The Jedi Order hasn’t produced soldiers for a thousand years. What do they know about what makes a good soldier or not? Maybe it’s the actual padawans on the front lines who should decide what makes a good Jedi-soldier or not.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” Ahsoka cried. She crossed her legs too, drawing them close to her chest. “Master Anakin gets it. He knows how to teach on the field. But - but Luminara was so strict about it! She was always telling me and - she was always telling me that a good Jedi never wants victory, only accepts the outcome.”

“Luminara? Oh, she’s a priss.” Obi-Wan scoffed. Ugh. Luminara. “But even my Luminara knows that you have to want victory in order to win. Victory doesn’t just happen. You have to fight for it.”

“Exactly!” Ahsoka said. She was growing more and more excited, and Obi-Wan found himself fired up too. Ahsoka was the only Jedi Obi-Wan had ever talked to who got it. Even Quinlan and Ferrus didn’t. “My master’s always saying that boldness wins the day. But my old textbooks say that you should only react, never start the fight. I don’t know who to believe.”

“The Seppies are the ones who started the fight,” Obi-Wan said, peeved. “So no matter what we do, we’re just reacting to it. You can interpret that stuff however you want, you know. The philosophy’s so vague you can just make it say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

“But I want it to matter,” Ahsoka said weakly. Or as weak as Ahsoka ever got. “I get what you’re saying. But being a Jedi is who I am. Without our teachings, without that faith...I don’t know if I’d be anybody at all.”

“That’s banthacrap,” Obi-Wan said angrily. Ahsoka’s eyes widened, but Obi-Wan waved it away. “Not you, it makes sense that you think that. But you’re so much more than a Jedi, Ahsoka! The Ahsoka Tano I know - the Jedi betrayed her! They exiled her from the Order! And you know what? You went eight years being just as cool and heroic as you were with the Jedi. Who you are - the Jedi didn’t give you that. You did!”

“Wait,” Ahsoka said, “they what?”

“The Jedi betrayed me too!” Obi-Wan found himself scrambling up, high on self-righteousness and conviction. “They betrayed all of us when they signed us up for this stupid war. We didn’t choose to be soldiers any more than the clones did. We’re taught as children that the Force is infallible. Maybe it is, but the Jedi sure aren’t. We’re corrupt, and everybody knows it. But nobody wants to say it, because if we aren’t Jedi, then what are we?”

Ahsoka’s expression tightened, but it didn’t look like she disagreed with him. “The last person I heard who spoke like that Fell.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. He knew. One little criticism of the Jedi and people think that you’re about to turn into a cackling murderer. It didn’t help that a lot of the most vocal Jedi criticisms came either from idiots, evil jerks, or evil idiots. “If we’re slipping into the Dark, then so is the whole damn Order. I don’t - I don’t hate anybody here, Ahsoka. They’re my family. I love them. I hate what the Senate says about us, and nobody who runs around murdering innocent people gets a say in how we run ourselves. I just hate what we’ve turned into.”

“I know,” Ahsoka said quietly. “I know. I can’t stop wondering what my life after the war is going to look like. What everybody’s life is going to look like - the padawans and the clones. I can’t just put a robe back on and go back to being a monk. I never really was. I don’t know how we can come back from what we’re being forced to do.”

“Then stop worrying about it,” Obi-Wan said firmly. He forced a smile, holding his lightsaber aloft. “Maybe you’ll be a hero just like my Master Tano. I’m going to become a soldier that Cody will be proud of. I’ll become a Knight and keep saving planets and people. I won’t stop fighting. The Senate and the Jedi don’t got a say in it.”

Ahsoka laughed, standing up and shaking out her legs. She reached a hand down to Obi-Wan, and helped pull him up for real. “It would be pretty cool to team up with you. Knight Tano and Knight Kenobi, cutting down slavers. That’s what I would like to do.”

“Oh, we’d beat up all of them. And then we’d move onto Death Watch. Then maybe we’d take down that sleeze Nute Gunray!”

Ahsoka laughed louder, almost cackling. “I’d like to see him try to bribe my lightsaber away from his neck!”

“I have a list of the worst politicians in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said. “Trust me, I got dirt on all of them. I’m going to ruin them all.”

“What, you aren’t assassinating them all?” Ahsoka asked, propping her hands on her hips.

“Death is too quick.”

“You are so cool.”

They kept talking like that, laughing and joking, until Ahsoka stood up and begged off to take a shower. Obi-Wan told her to go ahead, and that he’d follow right behind her. He lay on the floor of the training salle, fighting for breath, feeling sweat creep down his neck.

If this was a vision, what was it showing him? Maybe it was proving that he was right. That even another girl in another time, in the same place, agreed with him. That he was more powerful than he knew. Was he really the best duellist in the Order? That couldn’t be faked…

Obi-Wan stood up, swiping a towel over his face and taking his jacket off the hook. He shrugged it on as he walked out of the salle, turning to follow Ahsoka down the hall when he saw General Kenobi sitting on the ground against the wall next to the door. He was crying.

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t particularly subtle either. He had one leg stretched out on the ground, and one leg bent against his chest. His elbow was propped on that knee so his hand covered his face, covering the thick tracks of tears trailing down it. His shoulders were shaking slightly. Obi-Wan felt it in the Force: the pull-release, pull-release, of someone desperately searching for calm but not finding it.

Obi-Wan couldn’t think of anything to say, but he didn’t want to just walk away either. How long had he been sitting here? He must have been listening in on their conversation. Why was he crying?

But when General Kenobi spoke, his voice was clear and strong. “So this was it. So this was it…”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked sharply. “If you’re just going to make fun of me again -!”

“No, Obi-Wan. No, I’ve done more than enough of that.” General Kenobi wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring distantly up at the tile ceiling. “I suppose I can add one more name onto the list of people I’ve hurt. That’s exciting. It just grows longer and longer…”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked crossly. What was with this guy and his riddles? “Look, I don’t care about you. You’re just a ghost. I don’t need to be haunted by a life that I never lived.”

“How can one be haunted by the future?” General Kenobi said cryptically. “No, Obi-Wan. I’m afraid this one's for me. I’m sorry to drag you into this.” He faltered, just for a second. “I’m sorry for dragging all of you into this. You, Ahsoka. Barriss. Anakin. All of them.You didn’t do anything wrong.” He rubbed at his face again, and Obi-Wan saw for the first time how exhausted he was. He had hidden it so well. Not even Obi-Wan could tell. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever said that to myself. My, that’s rather pathetic.”

“It’s easier to say it to someone else than yourself.” Obi-Wan stood in front of the Jedi, one hand drifting to the comforting weight of his lightsaber. “Look, everything you want to say to me you’d probably be better off telling yourself. If you want to, like, hug your inner child, then I’m not really down for that, but Master’s usually down for a hug -”

“I really hate you, you know.”

Obi-Wan froze. General Kenobi was staring at him - fixed, unblinking, real. He didn’t look away, and Obi-Wan found himself matching it.

“You’re a nasty, pretentious kid,” General Kenobi continued. “Mediocre. Desperate for everything - desperate to be noticed, to be praised, to be loved. You have a chip on your shoulder and you’ll do anything to prove yourself. Finally prove to everybody that you’re something more than the person you feel like. That you’re more than that scared thirteen year old who nobody wanted.” His voice dropped low, into a hoarse whisper. “I spent twenty years trying to drown you. And now you’re here, and…and you remind me so much of Anakin. That look in your eyes...Anakin has that look. I always loved that about him. I can’t hate that look in your eyes...”

“Nice for you,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Anakin and Qui-Gon don’t get me at all. Nobody gets me. Sometimes Qui-Gon just looks at me and Anakin and I know he’s wondering where he went wrong. I’m a disappointment to you and them.”

“Then they failed you,” General Kenobi said simply. “It is in our nature to fail each other. I assure you that they’re trying quite hard, Obi-Wan. Even if it’s not enough.”

“Jedi always fail me,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m not good enough for them, and they don’t get me. Why keep trying and trying to get something they’re never going to give?”

“All of the Jedi have failed you,” General Kenobi said, calm as anything. “We have failed you and all of our padawans. We have failed the clones. I didn’t realize until now. Ahsoka has - well, Ahsoka has always been simply Ahsoka. A little too much like Anakin. I wonder what your Ahsoka is like. If she’s kinder, or if she’s wiser. I’ll never know, I suppose.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We have done you a great injustice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m sorry. Thank you for coming here and showing me this.”

Thank you. Thank you?

Obi-Wan backed up, and he found that hot tears were pricking at his eyes. The man on the floor in front of him didn’t move - defeated, abandoned, dead. In him there was a strange death of hope - a final understanding of a failure so complete it freezed the soul. He seemed almost made for it. His face only ever seemed to carry sadness.

“Your apologies don’t mean anything!” Obi-Wan yelled. His voice echoed down the corridor again and again, bouncing through infinite space. “You wasted your life hating yourself, and now you’ve become somebody who lets other kids suffer. Too bad! You can’t do anything to fix it. It’s far too late for that. You made people like me and Ahsoka, and we aren’t going to go away!”

But General Kenobi didn’t seem to be paying attention. He just looked at Obi-Wan, strange and distant. “You look just like Anakin,” he said, almost to himself. “But there’s something of Qui-Gon in you. Isn’t that strange.”

“You’re wasting your life trying to be just like Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said furiously. Was he even listening? Was Obi-Wan yelling into the cavernous empty void that stretched to either side of them, fading only into darkness? The door behind them was gone, replaced by a dark wall. “You’ll never match up to that perfect ghost. Hate me all you want, I’m still you. I’m not Anakin or Ahsoka or Qui-Gon, or anybody you loved. I’m just me, and I’m everything the world’s made me into. You have to love that too, or you’re going to spend the rest of your life miserable!”

Then the wall was gone too, and Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan were left alone with only themselves in the infinite nothing.

Maybe that was the worst part about it. Obi-Wan was only ever left alone with himself. In the dark reaches of night, lying alone in his cramped bunk - he was left alone with himself. There wasn’t anybody else to be. No matter how hard he tried.

“How long can you live hating yourself?” General Kenobi breathed. “It’s so difficult. You don’t want to feed that person, or take care of him. He doesn’t deserve the people he loves. His status and security is a lie. When he steps onto a battlefield, you don’t want him to come out. Before you know it, you’ve become the people who have hurt him. How do you wake him up every day?”

“Hate me all you want!” Obi-Wan screamed, his voice swallowed by the void. “I’ll hate you back! I’ll hate you just as much as you hate me!”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t hate you,” Master Kenobi said. “I just get so sad when I look at you. I can’t bear it. I just can’t bear it.”

“Then don’t look!”

But maybe Obi-Wan was a hypocrite. He looked away first.

He tore his eyes away from his future self, and let the nothing inside.

Or maybe it was the everything. Maybe it was the Force, or the absence of the Force. If one was infinite, then so was the other. If there was an adult then there was a child, and if there was fear then there was anger. Behind every regret is a decision you refused to make. And they curved in on themselves, forming an awful horrible cycle, creating an endless chain of Obi-Wans and Anakins and masters and students and death and life.

Maybe Obi-Wan Kenobi had been right. It was too much to bear, and too awful to look at.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

********

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, and his vision broke.

Scratchy sheets, bundled in his fist. Thin pillow. Cody, on the other side of the room. His back was to Obi-Wan, and he was typing quietly away at a datapad. Answering mail, or filling out a form. Always forms.

He didn’t know the time. He didn’t care too much. His head hurt.

He bundled his sheets a little closer, pulling them up to his nose. He watched Cody type and type, listened to the hum of the air recycler, and if he concentrated then he could feel the sea of familiar Force signatures surrounding him in comfort and warmth.

Obi-Wan wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t. He lay here instead, existing in that moment, focusing on nothing else but the rise and fall of his chest that reminded him he was still alive.

“Cody.”

Cody jerked, spinning around on his chair to look at Obi-Wan. His eyes widened, quickly getting up and walking to squat at his bedside. “How are you feeling, Commander?”

Obi-Wan mumbled something that might have been confessing to a headache.

“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Cody said evenly, “so I’m not surprised. Rex said it might be your strange Force magic, sir.”

Oh. That made sense. Obi-Wan blinked blearily before pulling the blanket back up. “Yeah. Head hurt. Five more minutes.”

“Sure,” Cody said, straightening. “Five more minutes. Then back to work.”

But he didn’t wake Obi-Wan up again, and he fell back into a deep and dreamless sleep.

#my writing #star wars #sw #star wars fanfic #this story has so much force bullshit it's not even funny #fun fact: i wasn't sure if they had a concept of alternate dimensions or not #so at no point does anybody have any frame of reference for what might be happening #WHATEVER....LET ME LIVE....#JUST WANTED TO FINALLY WRITE CANON OBI-WAN AND AHSOKA....

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noohpais · 4 years ago

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matching piercings — pairing : sanzu x fem!reader , genre : fluff, warnings/notes : cursing, bonten!sanzu, mentions of needles, slightly suggestive 16+, word count : 665

song playing : Burn by I.M

notes : this is self indulgent cause i love getting new piercings and i love sanzu. if we were dating i’d make him get a matching one with me lmao. if you enjoyed this fic, consider tipping me on ko-fi :> reblogs are much appreciated!!

disclaimer : this is a work of fiction, made only for entertainment purposes and in no way or form should be taken seriously.

“babe, i think it’s crooked.”

“for the last fucking time, haru, it’s not crooked.”

“but how do you know?”

ever since the two of you started dating, you’ve always wanted to get a matching piercing with sanzu. before meeting you, the idea of piercing any part of his body other than his ears didn’t really appeal to him, but after much convincing from you, he finally caved. he remembered the slight horror that ran through his mind when you gave your suggestions.

“maybe matching tongue piercings?” “no.”

“how about a nape piercing?” “absolutely not.”

“oh my god, let’s get matching navel pierc-” “i don’t think so.”

after a few hours of arguing and you calling him a pussy, which he most definitely is not, the two of you had finally decided to get matching nipple piercings— him on his right side, and you on your left. something that was discreet and easy to hide, yet the both of you knew that it was there.

it hadn't even been an hour since you and your beloved boyfriend returned home from the piercing shop, and sanzu was already complaining. currently, he was standing shirtless in front of your bathroom mirror, examining his new piercing, and in the last fifteen minutes, he’s told you three times that he swore his newly pierced nipple was crooked. you rolled your eyes as you slipped on a pair of his boxers and one of his old shirts. it’s been a long day and you really wanted nothing more than to just slide under the warm blankets of your bed.

“i promise haru, that it’s not crooked,” you yawned, stretching your arms over your head, “shiro’s been piercing me since i was in high school. he’s never messed up on any of the piercings he gave me.”

sanzu snapped his gaze to you, and he walked over to where you were standing. gripping the hem of your shirt, he lifted it to expose your chest to him. he examined your own nipple piercing before looking down at his and his scowl deepened.

“that mother fucker made mine crooked.” he spat.

“oh my god haru, please.”

“just look at yours, and then look at mine!” he said, his voice almost whiny as he dragged you to stand in front of the mirror. you decided to just go along with him — the sooner you did, the faster you could go to sleep. letting out a sigh, you took a look at your reflection. lifting up your shirt, you looked from your piercing to his a few times, comparing them.

“huh,” you cocked your head to the side, “your’s is kinda crooked.”

sanzu clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair, “i’m gonna put a bullet through that guy’s head.”

you chuckled as you let your shirt fall back down. wrapping your arms around his waist, you pressed a kiss to his neck and leaned into him.

“you can’t do that, i don’t trust anyone else to pierce my body.” you mumbled against his skin, “if it makes you feel any better though, it’s not even noticeable unless you really look at it.”

grumbling something incoherent underneath his breath, sanzu wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin atop your head.

“how long is it gonna take for this thing to heal?” he asked, pulling away from you slightly, watching you knit your brows together as you tried to remember what your piercer told you.

“ummm, i think he said up to six months?”

“six months?”

you nodded, staring up at your boyfriend’s handsome face. pressing a quick peck to his lips, you brought your hands up to cradle his face.

“yeah six months,” you repeated, “no tight clothing, and we have to keep them as dry as we can for them to heal properly.”

sanzu smirked as he leaned down and softly bit the skin of your shoulder.

“nothing’s gonna stop me from popping that titty in my-”

“no, haru.”

sanzu clicked his tongue as a pout formed on his lips. damn you were no fun.

additional notes : the main reason why i don't have my nipples pierced yet is because i'm saving it cause i thought it'd be a cute couple thing :3 if you enjoyed this fic, consider tipping me on ko-fi :> reblogs are much appreciated!!

#sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines #sanzu imagines #sanzu scenarios

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keigelsss · 4 years ago

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A Super Sweet Secret - Gojo Satoru

Merry late Christmas ya filthy animals ;)

Mega thirst moment based on this post and I think it just fits this fucker so well. I wrote part of this at 3am and I hate it so much ... fellow Gojo fuckers come get ya food.

Warnings: 18+, my shitty writing, language, mentions of alcohol, Gojo using infinity (had to do it on em), smut, DIRTY TALK, fingering, oral *fem receiving, overstim, squirting, uh… the pet names are super self-indulgent too oops, literally every grammatical error you can think of (please let me know if I missed any warnings I don’t wanna upset anyone or make anyone uncomfy. That being said minors pls DNI!! I don't feel like blocking anyone today)

Word count: 2.25k (i do be getting carried away)

How do you go about explaining your current situation to the higher-ups if you get caught with him? Do you tell them that, instead of getting pointers on how to guide students down the right path, you’ve been indulging in some very explicit acts with the man who is supposed to show you the ropes? No. That’s not right either but in all honesty, it would have been a lost cause from the get-go. Gojo Satoru is the least traditional in his teaching methods and is without a doubt a troublemaker but his antics are a part of what makes him so charming. It’s that same charm that finally made you cave and accept a coffee date with him on the next day you both had off.

You don’t know exactly when it happened but little by little those morning coffee dates turned into mid-day snack runs, then dinner and overindulging in desserts at the other’s house. Everything took an unexpected turn when you went a bit overboard on the sake one night. The next morning you woke up naked on your couch, the sun in your face, a pounding headache and a large man clinging to your body like a koala. As much as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship between the two of you, it was so hard to not crave another taste of him. He couldn’t resist you either, one bite and he kept coming back for more.

You two are definitely going to get into some serious trouble for this.

After stressful days of exorcising curses Gojo likes to unwind with a sweet treat from his local bakery and you by his side. He’ll find it ridiculously adorable if you have a bigger sweet tooth than he does. On the walk back to his house, you both snag a pastry from the bag of goodies and laugh at the other for not being able to wait until you reached your destination. The two of you arrive shortly after but Gojo decided he wasn’t entirely satisfied...

“Hey, sugar?” he asked while removing his sunglasses, his eyes entirely focused on your movements. You started to place what was left of the little cakes in a dish that was used specifically for the sweet treats of the day, he quickly recalled how you made fun of him for the fancy crystal platter but he admitted to being a bit extra like that. “What’s up trouble?” He let out a soft chuckle and got closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders leaning down to rest his chin on top of your head. “Trouble? That couldn’t be me.” you placed the cover back on the platter and put your hands on his arms settling back into him slightly. “You only call me ‘sugar’ when you want something from me, so what is it?”

Now that was true, he had a list of pet names for you that he liked to pull out for certain occasions and you caught onto that quickly. It’s really not fair at all how he can make innocent words sound so damn sinful when he wanted to tease you. You turned to face him now, his hands resting on either side of you. He leans down and places a feather-soft kiss on your lips, so soft it’s almost like he’s not making full contact with you.

“I thought we didn't do those things when it was just us together like this?” Your eyes fluttered open and he came back in for a real kiss, his hot tongue lingering lazily on your bottom lip but not enough to excite you. He does that on purpose. “I know but it’s just the thought of it, I can tell you're thinking about it too.” He reached for the dessert dish and picked up a small cream filled pastry, he took a bite and offered you the other half. You knew it wasn’t an accident when he got the filling on your lip and chin. He used his thumb to clean up the mess he made then licked it clean, he is actually evil but even if you do hate him sometimes you can’t find it in you to resist him.

“C’mon Y/n, don't you think it would be interesting to try while I go down on you? Just a little bit?” You bit your lip at the thought and he was already excited for your answer. He was right, the idea of him between your legs, devouring you but not quite. Being able to feel everything between the two of you but not making an actual connection. it ignited a small fire within you.

“We can try it once but I can’t promise that I'll like it.”

Truthfully that was all he needed to hear before he began to strip you of your clothes, leaving you completely naked. His large hands began exploring your body, grabbing onto any dip and curve he can find while placing sloppy kisses on your neck. He used both hands to get a firm grip of your ass, lifting you onto the cold marble countertop, you let a small moan escape you at the feeling and he placed a wet kiss on your lips. Tugging on the fabric of his long sleeve you brought it up and off revealing his defined upper body, you could drool if you didn't have some self control. “Satoru not too much okay? It’ll drive me crazy when all I want is to feel you.” The whimper that fell from your pretty mouth was almost enough to make Gojo cum in his pants, you swore you saw hearts glowing in his bright blue eyes. “Don't worry princess only a little bit. Besides you know my sweet girl always gets what she wants.”

If there was anything that came close to what you picture heaven was like, it would definitely be the equivalent to Gojo’s strong, slender fingers expertly rubbing your folds. He always found every sweet spot and applied the perfect amount of pressure without you having to say a word.

“Baby, did I make you this wet?” He used his thumb to spread your slick around, creating a delightful rhythm on your clit. Hips trembling when he grazed that one spot that practically had you gushing for him.

“Yes! It was yo- oh fuck that feels so good!” you leaned forward, resting your head on his chest, admiring the way his fingers looked so mesmerizing covered in the pretty shine of your juices. “You know you're the sweetest thing ever right? So damn delicious. I can spend hours between these sexy thighs of yours.” His breath is hot on the tip of your ear and that smooth voice sends shockwaves throughout your entire body. His free hand wrapped around your thigh and gripped below your knee, shifting the angle at which his fingers were exploring your overly sensitive hole.

“Are you gonna let me make you cum with my mouth? Let me taste how sweet you are?” his lips started to trail the sides of your neck down to your chest. He left a series of kisses on each breast, sucking lightly on your stiff and sensitive nipples. “Ah Satoru please! I want- Ooh want your tongue.” He licked a stripe across your tummy then placed a soft kiss on your belly button, he moved your thighs once more and found a position comfortable for the two of you. Your legs resting nicely on his shoulders while he rubbed circles on your hips and waist. “Look at this gorgeous pussy,” a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “So pretty.” another kiss on your swollen clit, you couldn't help but arch your back off the counter, grabbing a handful of his soft hair. He nibbled on your thigh and a sharp whine fell from you. “Remember to behave sweetheart, I'm supposed to be going easy on you.” His chuckle vibrated against your hot mound and you let out a sigh, releasing some tension from your hands on his head, allowing him to do what he wanted with your body.

Gojo’s tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, curling and sucking at the special spot that only he knew about with perfect accuracy. The buzzing sensation that you normally felt when he's down there was reduced to an incomplete static, like your nerves weren’t fully receiving the information of his movements. Now that? That was different. It really was infinity… a barrier he controlled entirely, the rolling of his tongue feeling more like a whisper of pleasure that was everything and nothing at the same time. You were right to think it would drive you crazy but in the most euphoric way possible. “Oh my god it feels s-so good! P-please don’t stop baby I’m so fucking close.”

The large kitchen was filled with desperate sounds of pleasure and the soft squelching of Gojo’s fingers inside your quivering cunt. This feeling was new but you were instantly hooked. It didn't take long for you to fall over that glorious edge with a broken moan of his name and a string of curses, making little to no sense at all. A deep groan erupts from his chest as he takes in every drop of your release in satisfaction. His gaze found your blissed out expression and he decided to ease up on that invisible veil between you, fingers slipping from your tight whole. You clenched around nothing and the loss of his fingers filling you was enough to nearly make you cry.

“That‘s my favorite flavor right there sweetheart.” he spent some time admiring the way you looked coming down from your high. The rise and fall of your breasts with every breath paired alongside the slight shaking in your limbs from how intense the orgasm was. You're a work of art to him, truly, especially like this. Opening your eyes you find his stupid gorgeous face resting on your thigh, licking his lips simply enjoying your taste. You ran your fingers through his hair one more time before softly squishing his face with your legs, letting out a breathless giggle while regaining some grasp on reality. “I w-want more, but let me feel all of you for fucks sake!”

He instantly obliged, diving right back in, using only his tongue, setting a languid pace. His animalistic groans against your over sensitive pussy were a telling sign that he was enjoying himself, probably ridiculously hard in the confines of his jeans. The thought of his cock deep inside of you was enough to get you shamelessly turned on all over again. If it weren't for his hands on your hips, rubbing easing circles into your soft skin, you would be a convulsing mess on the hard marble beneath you. A dull ache was beginning to form in your lower back, but you could care less. Gojo's tongue was working wonders on that delectable bundle of nerves of yours. His hands started trailing upwards and fondling your breasts, your spine arching under his touch as he pinched your nipples. You both made eye contact and he could tell that you were close to another release, your entire body was starting to shake. “Ye-yeah baby I’m gonna f-fucking cum.” his tongue never relenting on you. You were on the verge of screaming, your thighs were probably strangling him at this point.

“Mhm my little honeypot. Are you gonna make a mess?” he growled delicately against you.

That was also new but holy shit it had your brain short circuiting. Honeypot?! Damn you really could make a mess and that was exactly what you did. His relentless attack on your clit was blinding but so fucking delicious you didn't want it to end. You squirted all over his face, covering his neck and chest with a stream of your juices. The added stimulation of his abilities, and the shock of this new pet name clearly having an impact on your intense orgasm. it could possibly be the best you've experienced. He was aware of that fact as well. “I love when you do that.” honestly you did too. The aftershock of it all had you both mesmerized, your body just a quaking mess, panting and moaning. You struggled a bit to get air back into your lungs but Gojo's hands squeezed on your waist reassuringly. Your hips were beginning to relax and he once again found a place to momentarily rest his head on your thighs.

He huffed a small howl of amusement. You could instantly tell what he was so giddy about. “So? Honeypot?” you questioned him, not in a judging manner but out of curiosity and excitement. “It kind of just came out of me in the moment.” You couldn't help but laugh at his answer, a fitting response. You took a second to relish in the sight of your cum and his sweat tracing his brow. It will forever remain a mystery on how you managed to get so addicted to the world’s biggest pain in the ass, but here you were.

That evil little smirk made another appearance on his face while he brought himself up to kiss you, the taste of yourself was very much present on his tongue and soft lips, you screeched in excitement. He swiftly lifted you off the counter and began his trek towards his bedroom.

“Are you maybe just a bit more curious on what else I can do to that pretty body of yours?”

yeah this is trash uh if you read this sorry for the lack of seasoning in your food

tags: @bobabybo @ibukiirisha

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tryingmyves · 4 years ago

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Girl All the Bad Guys Want

okay i won’t lie, i remembered this song exists and i could not get the idea of a badboy!iida out of my head

this is a bit self indulgent because i was definitely that girl in hs lmaoooo

anyhow hopefully y’all like it too

PAIRING: Iida x Y/N

cw: badboy!iida

✨ tagging the iida army: @coleluuviida + @saturnity + @peachiileaf ✨

You have a reputation at UA, mostly with the male students. It isn’t something you put effort into maintaining or even something you cultivated on purpose, but you’ve gained some notoriety amongst your peers. At first glance, you don’t seem too different from your female classmates. You certainly don’t feel superior or disparate from them, but you’ve also never quite felt like you belonged with them. You don’t excel at being soft and demure, and you refuse to shrink yourself down in order to make others more comfortable in your presence. You spit in the face of all the things typically expected of a lady. And frankly, you’re more than a bit awkward when you hangout with the girls from your class. They always invite you to their sleepovers and shopping trips, and try to engage you in their conversations, but you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally offending them. You’re never really able to add anything of value when they talk about the boys in your class - a recurring subject. Mina knows everything about everyone in class; she loves to gossip. It’s like her horns serve as antennae and pick up on all the juiciest secrets. She is always interrogating the other girls about their crushes but you just never really felt that way about anyone. Honestly, you find the conversations about who likes who to be a bit boring. You typically end up hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima, and the rest of that squad. Boys are just easier to be around. They don’t get offended at your crass comments and your sometimes gruff disposition looks outright friendly next to Bakugo.

Your undeniably attractive appearance, unquestionable skill with your quirk, and nonchalant attitude have landed you in the sights of several of your fellow UA students. You are the embodiment of do no harm, but take no shit and something about you is intoxicating. Mina frequently jokes with you about how the entirety of the Bakusquad is duking it out to see who gets to ask you out first. You roll your eyes at her, convinced she’s imagining things. But in reality you’re just clueless. As cliché as it is, you really are the girl all the bad guys want. Too bad you didn’t want them back.

What you didn’t expect with your tough exterior, competitive nature, and tendency to slack off on class work is that class rep, Tenya Iida, would want you too. God, not even he expected it but he had fallen hard. You frustrate him. You’re just as smart as Yaomomo or Todoroki, but you skate by in class. You don’t outwardly disrespect authority, but you won’t blindly accept orders just because someone says so. He thinks the rap metal music you listen to while training is abrasive and doesn’t understand why all your favorite artists sound like they’re mad at their fathers. He finally gave up on lecturing you on the fact that the fishnets you wear with your uniform are not regulation and he was still wrestling with how he felt about learning you were one of the students caught at a dorm party with alcohol a few weeks ago. More than anything he hates that you’ve so effortlessly got him pining for you and you haven’t even noticed. Iida loves the rules! Order, structure, regulation - these are the things that Iida covets, so why was he craving the taste of your lips on his?

He is tired of silently lusting after you, and decides he’s going to try actively pursuing you instead. Tenya thinks that you like “bad boys” so as foreign as the concept is to him, he concludes he’s going to have to take on that persona. He starts off simply, making a playlist of songs he’s heard you blaring from your dorm. He eases himself into your music, starting with Linkin Park and Korn, before adding Incubus, Machine Head, and even some ICP to the mix. He’s hesitant at first… the music just sounds so hostile and aggressive to him. But soon he finds himself relishing the fierce energy the songs give him. Tenya gets why you train to this sort of music, his workouts becoming more intense than ever. They end in his chest heaving and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His muscular calves throb vigorously after every run and he feels powerful. It gives him a new found confidence that he strategically channels into his interactions with you. For class today, Aizawa simply instructs you all to pair off and spar. You’re about to ask Sero to partner with you when he approaches.

“Y/N. You’re with me.” Tenya doesn’t ask, he’s telling you you’re his partner.

A small sound of surprise leaves your throat at his unexpected forcefulness, but you don’t question it. You just nod, giving a small shrug to Sero before following the class rep to a vacant spot of the training gym.

You look over your challenger, rolling your head on your shoulders a few times to loosen up. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this,” you smirk, bringing your fists up in a defensive stance.

Before you can even blink, Tenya has closed the 10 foot gap between you, sweeping a long leg beneath yours in a circular motion, knocking you off your feet. You land with a thud on your back and the air in your lungs is forced out with a nmph.

“Just try to keep up, Y/N.”

Oh, it’s on. Previously you found Iida’s flustered demeanor around you endearing. But this new, assertive, almost cocky disposition is irresistible. His momentum propels him in a circle while he stays anchored in place on his massive left thigh. As he finishes turning through the motion he reaches forward hoping to pin your arms to the ground, but you’re just getting started. You plant the palms of your hands on either side of your face and kick up from the ground with a boost from your quirk. The added flow of air thrusts your legs up and over your head so you are now standing once more. You are sure that the soles of your shoes connect with Iida’s face during your arch through the air.

“It’s not going to be that easy, specs,” you taunt. Now it’s your turn.

You launch yourself at Tenya, closing the small gap between the pair of you in an instant. He extends a locked arm to block your approach but you simply dip your head, gliding underneath and down the length of his limb until you are just one step behind him. You pivot on your right foot as you swing your left arm across your body. Your open palm lands just between Tenya’s shoulder blades, your natural momentum accompanied by a gale force wind. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him toppling forward. Tenya’s speed is unmatched and his large frame is covered in tone muscle, but with the addition of the very air around you, your strikes are ferocious. Your air quirk aids in your mobility, but you’ve used it to master hand to hand combat. You dominate in tight quarters, so you just need to keep Tenya close. He’s already returned to his feet, calculating his next move. The moment ‘s hesitation creating an opening for your right shin to collide with his side. Tenya growls through gritted teeth in response to the blow and the feral vibrations send shivers down your spine. Instead of recoiling from your attack Tenya’s hands clamp onto your shoulders like vices. His brows are furrowed in smug determination, and he practically sneers “Recipro Burst!”

You are propelled backwards rapidly, the gym surrounding you flashing by in a blur, the only thing you're able to see clearly is the dark glint in Tenya’s eyes and the zealous grin on his lips. You try to activate your quirk to counter his momentum, but it’s futile, he is pushing you backwards so quickly you can’t manipulate any of the air whizzing past you. Your back is suddenly pinned to the back wall of the gym, Tenya’s large hands holding your slender wrists to the concrete wall. He places a muscular thigh between your legs so his left knee is pressed to the wall as well - he has you completely immobilized. Both of your chests are heaving, your faces no more than three inches from one another. You don’t know what possesses you but you smash your lips to his, desperate to close the miniscule gap between you.

Tenya’s body stiffens in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth, snaking his tongue past your lips. You wrench your hands from his grip, placing one on the back of his neck and tangling the other in the mess of his navy hair. You didn’t expect the class rep to be such an amazing kisser, but when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth you can’t contain the soft moan that escapes you. Tenya swallows your noises and begins to pull away. Your lips hungrily follow after him, but you’re stopped when one of his calloused hands rests on your neck with just enough force to hold you in place.

“Such public displays of desire are unbecoming of future heroes, Y/N. Come to my room this evening and we can finish this privately.” And with that, Tenya separates himself from you completely, already settling into a stance that signals he is ready to continue sparring.

#tenya iida #tenya x reader #tenya x y/n #iida x reader #iida x y/n #iida simps come and get y'all juice #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #badboy!au #badboy!iida #by ves #mha imagines #bnha imagines #fan fic writing #fan fic blog

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darthmaulification · 4 years ago

Text

savage opress NSFW alphabet

A/N: finally! i got this finished!!

*pounds chest* me love big zabrak man!!! and i am in 100% support for soft!savage so y’all are gonna see a ton of that here. 💀

also, i had to do so much mental math with this one because savage is so darn tootin’ tall (7ft 1in, from what i’ve read) that relating his you-know-what’s size relative to him was ✨challenging✨ but also 😳🥴🥵💦 if ya know what i mean.

and i mention the maul nsfw alphabet i wrote a couple of times in here, so go check that one out for more clarification on a few points if you feel so inclined. 😊💕

nfsw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Savage is always a bit unsure of himself in how he cares for others, but his aftercare is immaculate. Every time, there’s this brief window of Post Coital Cuddles where he just holds you in his arms and purrs like there’s no tomorrow, and I mean like near full body vibrations, he’s purring so damn hard and loud. More often than not, this is usually the part where Savage passes out, usually he’s too darn sleepy to finish the rest of the aftercare. However, if he does manage to keep his eyes moment for a few minutes longer, Savage kisses you all over, asks you what you need, and will get the job done in the most tender and sweet way possible.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Savage is a sap and would say that all of you is his favorite, and honestly mean it. He thinks that you and your body are nothing but perfect, all of it. He’ll compliment you with the utmost sincerity, telling you just how beautiful you are whenever and wherever. Savage loves to look at you, to feel you, to worship you. He enjoys all of the squishier parts of you especially, whether that be your thighs, tummy, ass, breasts, etc etc. He loves that you’re so soft compared to him.

However, for as much as he’s able to see the beauty in others, Savage has trouble seeing the beauty in himself. He feels like a monster most of the time, feels like he’s been deformed by his enhancements. It’s not easy for him to choose a favorite part of his body, because he honestly doesn’t like his body. So, you’ll have to coax him into learning to love himself, which isn’t and won’t be easy, but Savage needs to learn that he is allowed and has earned the right to treat himself with love. This will lead to whatever your favorite part of him to be his favorite, whatever that may be.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Savage cums buckets. Like... an ungodly amount of nut. It’s thick, white, and Maker, it is virile. His sperm count is off the fucking charts, and he knows it. Savage makes sure to cum inside you every time, unless you specifically ask him not to. He pushes balls deep, up to the hilt, and lets loose inside you, absolutely coating your walls in sticky, creamy white. It’s usually so much that the moment he pulls out, it literally spills out of you, and something about that sight has Savage genuinely horny all over again. If it’s okay with you, because he always asks before he does anything, Savage will push it back in with a couple fingers.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

... Okay, so be nice to him... Savage has a Mommy kink. It’s nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely there. He wants to call you to Mommy, listen to everything you say and tell him to do, be your “Good boy”. Honestly, it’s enough if you just call him the name, if you’re not comfortable with the title, and if you’re his gentle femdom (he would literally worship you).

Thing is, he might never tell you this because it embarrasses him beyond belief, like cripplingly embarrassing, and he doesn’t know how you’ll react if he told you.

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

To be honest, Savage has had no experience. Mostly, it’s because he was raised in an environment where he was taught that his purpose in life was only fighting, so he was never given/had the opportunity of sex. He never had the chance to explore that avenue with another person, because there was no one to explore it with and he was being trained half to death most of the time. Of course, he’s picked up things throughout his life from others, so he’s not clueless and has a semi-idea of how to please someone. So when you and him do the do for the first time, Savage is unsure of himself, a bit clumsy, and kinda self-deprecating. You’ll need to talk to him, tell him that he’s welcome to your body and that you want him, and walk him through some of the actions. So while your first time with Savage may be a bit... disorganized to put it gently, it is also so full of mutual love and respect and care that it is perfect.

And, fortunately for you and him, Savage is a very quick learner.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Savage is a big guy and he knows this, so most of the positions you and him have to take is honestly a lot more for your safety than anything else. Especially at the beginning, Savage will want to be as safe as possible, so it’s most likely going to involve you on top of him, but as he gets more confident in his abilities, he’ll be more open to topping you. When it gets to that point of mutual trust, his favorite positions include:

Missionary. This position is just super personal and intimate for him. It allows Savage to see your every reaction, every gasp and moan you let out. He likes being face-to-face with you, being able to kiss you all over the whole time is especially important to him. Savage also likes missionary for being able to indulge on his size kink a bit, seeing you small and beneath him with his dick bulging inside you makes him so horny.

Cowgirl. Savage loves it when you ride him! He loves being able to watch you bounce on his dick, watching your breasts and anywhere else soft jiggle, being able to feel you up. Savage also likes when you top, being under you is just as nice as being above you (though he will admit the view from below is something real special).

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Savage isn’t goofy, but he also isn’t serious. He doesn’t do a whole lot of teasing, preferring to give you exactly what you ask of him, but he isn’t so stoic as to be overly focused. He is in that warm middleground where he’s just an utter sap, just making sure he’s doing the best job he can just for you.

Sometimes though, if Savage is in a particularly playful mood, and especially if you both are, he’ll have you smiling and giggling from silly antics that he’ll do to please you. One of his go-to’s is flirtatiously flexing his muscles for you, which is a very nice sight.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Like I mentioned in my Maul NSFW alphabet, male Zabrak don’t have hair anywhere on their bodies. So Savage is completely smooth below the belt. He also doesn’t have a preference towards the hair you do or don’t have, Savage believes it isn’t his place to tell you what to do with your body.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Very. Savage has never been as close to someone as he is with you, so he wears his heart on his sleeve. Sex with Savage is overwhelming in its kindness, he indulges on the closeness that he’s never really had before with another person in this way. Savage practically melts into your arms, wanting so badly to show you how much he adores you, he opens his very soul to you. Intimacy, despite his cold upbringing, comes naturally to him, if not a bit surprising, but Savage wouldn’t have it any other way.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... not really, to be honest. He did “more” in his youth, when he could, but even then it was very secretive and few and far between. So yeah, Savage has indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he really doesn’t find the time nor motivation to yank it. Especially with you in his life, Savage is set.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Savage does indeed have quite a few kinks, but he’s also a bit sheepish about them. He’ll tell you if you ask, but he’ll get all fidgety and awkward, so please be nice to him. Here’s his main ones:

Size kink. Savage is often self-conscious about his daunting height and bulk, but if there’s one area where he’s not, it’d be when he’s balls deep inside you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his length and the bulge that appears under your tummy. Something about it drives him near feral and makes him weak in the knees. He also loves how big his hands look as the travel your body, engulfing your skin with his palms and splayed fingers.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. He’s always liked kids, he would like kids with you, so Savage has a near crippling breeding kink. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t think about fucking you full of his seed and starting a family with you. He wants it so badly, to see you pregnant with his child, but he isn’t sure how to raise it to you. So, it’ll be a lot of very specific dirty talk and passing comments until he finally gathers the courage to tell you that he really really wants kids (and seeing you swollen with his baby and milk is just a bonus).

Praise kink. Savage loves to give praise and he loves to receive it! He’ll be complimenting and encouraging you the whole time, telling you how sexy your body is, how pretty you are to look at, how soft you are, how much he loves you, etc etc. His mouth gives only the most sincere, loving praise that’ll have you holding back tears with how kind it is. And if you say nice things back??? Savage is putty in your hands. Words cannot describe how much it means to him if you tell him how good he’s making you feel, how he’s doing so well, that he’s also sexy and that you love his body... or if you call him a “Good boy”.

Predator/prey. Despite his overall kind decorum, Savage really has a predator/prey kink, like more so than Maul, which is saying something. He really likes a good chase before doing the do, gets the blood pumping to all the right places. And while he never wants you scared of him, he does toy around and give you a good spook during the hunt to catch you off guard. Savage enjoys the startled shrieks that he’s able to smother with kisses until he has you panting and giggling.

Scent kink. Honestly, this is his Monkey Brain Zabrak mind rearing it’s head. Savage really just likes sniffing you all over, taking in your scent and committing it to memory. He especially loves smelling your hair and, more vulgarly, your pussy. To him, the aroma that is you is something he gets drunk on.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Savage is most comfortable and secure in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean it’s his favorite. He finds (after a while, of course, and gaining more experience) that he really really likes to fuck in the precarious spot that is the fucking throne room. It’s scandalous and dirty and bold, especially for Savage, but Maker, if he doesn’t love dragging you there in the dead of night and rawing you behind the throne.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

There are two sure fire ways to get Savage hard in his pants that are completely opposite. One, Savage has a thing for you playing all cute with him. If you give him puppy dog eyes and act coy and helpless and needy, he’s on you as soon as he can be. Two, you act bold. Savage will get hot around the collar if you get get firm with him in public and whisper to him exactly what you want. He finds it very hard to say no to you if you give him such a compelling order.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Sadism. Savage just can’t do it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He ties pain to the bouts of frustrated rage he’s prone to, pain that he inflicts on others that really hurt, or even kill them. Savage gets nightmares about laying his hands on you like that.

Also, Savage would not like being physically restrained in any way. That is a huge turn off for him, because it makes a lot of bad memories bubble to the surface.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Savage wants nothing more than to eat you out. From the first time he ever tasted you, he was hooked. He’s addicted to your unique taste, sweet and perfect on his tongue, your warm, velvety pussy, that cute clit. Savage would spend hours with his head between your legs, mindful of his horns, if he could. He’ll lap at you like a dog, licking and kissing like he’s savoring a fine wine. Savage will have you cumming over and over again until your sobbing for him to stop.

His love for giving head honestly impedes his love for receiving head. He likes it when you do, mostly because it amuses and arouses him to see you struggle to take as much of him as you can, but it just doesn’t compare to eating you like a dessert. But if you do wish to go down on him, feel free to. Savage loves to see your tiny mouth work on his massive cock.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

SOFTIE ALERT SOFTIE ALERT!! Savage is so fucking sweet when he fucks because he puts so much thought and energy into it, he is the definition of making love. Savage fucks you hard and intensely, but it’s so careful and generous, because he doesn’t want to hurt you and just wants to treat you right. Savage literally could be blowing out your back, but it still feels like he’s worshipping your body like he’s at a temple.

Now PDA... Savage blushes if you hold his hand. He’s fairly alright with displaying the relationship, but if you do he’s a flustered, lovesick mess. He likes having a hand on you, especially holding yours, but if he has one on your lower back, he’s so awkward and sweet about it, but deep down it makes him feel really proud. Like, no one else gets to say that your his, and that has him so happy! PDA with Savage may be small, but it’s very cute.

Though if you kiss him in public, his brain shuts down and he swoons.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Once you two have been at it for a while, Savage grows more and more fond of the appeal of quickies. He likes a good, quick release, though it doesn’t compare to having hours alone with you, but it’s fun nonetheless. Savage will most likely seek a quickie from you if there’s a lull in the day, when his and your schedules slow down enough to run back to your bedroom all giggly and flirty just to go a quick round or two.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Savage is so-so on experimenting. He’s very nervous about trying stuff that’s a bit more... drastic, so it’ll really depend on what you’re asking him to try. Though, if you coax him just enough and assure him that your with him on this, Savage will be a bit more sure of the situation and more likely to try stuff out.

As for taking risks though, like genuine risks, the only one he kinda allows himself is that rare throne room fuck that happens once in a blue moon when the climate’s right for it. Other than that, Savage doesn’t like doing too much risky stuff in the bedroom.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

A damn long time. Maybe it’s because he’s Zabrak, or maybe it’s because of his enhancements, but Savage has stamina for days. He’s easily able to last 4-5 rounds before his cock starts to protest, but even then he’ll push himself if you ask him to (though you probably will be too far gone by that point). Savage makes you cockdumb nearly every time you have sex, simply because he can just keep fucking. Like his dick stays hard even through the refractory period, and he stays just horny from when it all started. Savage, though he is embarrassed to admit this, is insatiable.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Savage has literally never even seen a toy in person. He has no idea how they work, what they’re used for, why people use them, what’s the appeal... He is painfully clueless. So if you want to bring toys into the mix, you’ll have to thoroughly run them down to Savage or he might get put off. Depending on the toy, he might get a little iffy around it and unsure.

The only toy that’s blacklisted for sure is any type of restraint. He does not like those.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Savage is... kinda bad at teasing. He’s just too darn sweet to tease!! He can’t find it in his heart to have you begging... for too long, that is. He may be a softie, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover. Savage with lightly tease throughout, toying with you a little bit before he gives in to both yours and his desires, and ravishes you.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Loud. Savage, when he isn’t very sweetly teasing you, he will be grunting and groaning and moaning your name like there’s no tomorrow. He sounds like a wild animal, all growls and snarls, rumbling deep in his throat like thunder on the horizon. It’s near constant too, and very very sexy. And, if it’s during his heat or your squeezing his cock just right, Savage won’t even be able to talk, and he’ll be reduced to a moaning, panting mess until he’s able to gather himself again.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

I follow the headcanon that Zabrak go through heat/rut cycles, but I expand more on it here in Maul’s NSFW alphabet. Basically, it’s about the same for Savage; he had an upbringing where his sexuality was suppressed, which severely jacked up his heat cycle’s circadian rhythm, that led to years of feelings of inadequacy and shame, which then eventually led to Savage having a mini sexual resurgence once he was free from his main oppressors and oppression.

That being said, Savage’s heat cycle doesn’t come often, as it and he is still healing, but when it does he gets a bit more riled up and snippy. He’s just generally more grumpy and gets hypersensitive to smells/sounds which will make him snap at people. But he’s still Savage, so he’s still a sweetheart in his soul, if not a gruff one.

But Savage still suffers a bit from the whole shame surrounding his biology, so at first he won’t want you around when he goes into heat. It is shame, he doesn’t want you to see him like that. But you’re smart enough to catch on eventually, and you’ll really have to wriggle yourself in and pull him out of his comfort zone at the same time. Savage needs to be let known that his physiology is normal and fine, and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You’ll meet a bit of push back at first, because you are trying to undo years of abuse, but eventually Savage comes around.

He still gives you the option if you want to stay with him or not, because he’s thoughtful like that. If you decide to stay with him and “help him out” so to say... expect long, fun nights.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Savage is literally just 7 feet of pure muscle. He already towers over most others, but his burly figure also has the tendency to intimidate. Savage is positively stacked, with the physique of an Olympic bodybuilder. He’s got shoulders wide enough to sit a person on either side of his head, strong arms to match, and an absolutely exquisite pair of brawny chest muscles. Savage doesn’t have washboard abs like Maul, but he isn’t exactly dad bod either, he sits in the middleground of some definition of his muscles and a light brushing of pudge. His long, beefy legs are also particularly fun to enjoy, especially those thighs of his... and his nice ass.

And of course, Savage’s inky black tattoos paint him delectably everywhere else on his body, engraving sharp patterns all over his canary yellow skin. He also has scars scattered over his body, mostly on his hands and arms, but there are a few long ones on his back from, ones that have silvered in age, that bring about very bad memories. Savage doesn’t like talking about them.

Now his schlong... Maker you are in for it. Savage has a really, really big cock between his legs that you can thank to the enhancements his body received. Savage’s penis is 11 inches (27.94 cm) when fully erect and is just under 3.5 inches (8.89 cm) in diameter, so he is positively hung. Like all Zabrak penises, it’s ridged down the shaft and he is uncut. His balls are also fairly big, due to his size, and they sit lower from their weight.

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

Before Savage met you, his sex drive was relatively low. He was focused entirely on other things, most of which he didn’t really have a say in the matter, that drew a lot of his time and energy. Often, he was so exhausted that sex, and even sexual urges, literally never crossed his mind. Now after he’s met you, and has caught feelings nearly instantly, Savage finds himself thinking about fucking you a lot. Before you officially started a relationship, he spent many nights indulging himself with the thought of you and his hand. And when you both started dating, Savage damn near gets horny every time he looks at you. He realizes that he really likes sex, specifically he really likes it with you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Savage already has the tendency to sleep like a log after strenuous activities, so after you and him have done the Devil’s dance a couple times, he passes out almost instantly. Albeit, you’ll probably pass out just as fast too, so you both tend to fall asleep all sticky and messy and stupid happy. He does try though, to remain awake to give you solid aftercare, but listen, this mans is tired and he was wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. Though, he does sometimes stay aware enough to clean you up, just in case you don’t wanna go to bed sticky.

#star wars #star wars savage opress #savage opress #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you

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