Curiouser and curiouser...

Instead of calculating trajectories and plotting courses, the scientists at NASA now had a slightly more chilled job of combing through the hundreds of video logs made by the pair of astronauts during their time of exile. As soon as they arrived at the Ares IV MAV, the high-bandwidth connection on board was used to upload the diaries to Earth, to chronical their time on the red planet, but also provide the memory of their final living days in case the worst occurred during their rescue mission.

Thankfully, the worst did not happen.  

Vincent Kapoor and Mindy Park now crowded around an office computer scanning the videos for any important information they missed to be filed away for NASA’s future space missions. Annie Montrose kept an eye on them and the screen over their shoulders for anything she might be able to release to the public who continued to clamour for anything about life on Mars.

“Our own employees shit-talking the scientists of NASA and their advice to help save their lives maybe shouldn’t be broadcast to the world,” Annie lamented as Mindy shut off another video where Mark whined about an army of botanists trying to micro-manage his potatoes with a new growing technique and Y/N complained about the demanding engineers who critiqued her repairs on the rover and quote “wouldn’t know a wrench if they sat on one”.

“Self-awareness can be a refreshing approach for a government agency,” suggested Vincent, sarcastically, rubbing his eyes from the glare of the screen. Mindy laughed as Annie launched a pen at Vincent’s head in annoyance as she clicked on the next video. It began with Mark alone on the screen.

xxx

“So, nothing has caught fire in 15 sols, I think that’s a new record for us,” Mark always managed to sound cheerful on his video diaries no matter the situation. He could be smoking from an explosion, arm falling off and in the middle of a claustrophobia-induced argument with you, but still have a boyish smile on his face.

You couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck on Mars with. His constant witty narration and array of new bold ideas to keep you both alive braved your unfathomable storms, even when you were close to giving up on ever returning home.

No wonder you fell for him.

And he fell for you too.

Some would say being stuck on a deserted planet with your crush would be a dream. Maybe not a dream, but the constant close quarters did force you both to admit your burgeoning feelings for each other and begin your relationship. Sure, the adrenaline-fuelled trauma bonding and distinct lack of personal space at all times sometimes felt like a wall, your patience with each other and resolve to overcome triumphed.

“Y/N should be back soon,” Mark continued, “it’s been pretty goddamn quiet without them here. I hope they get back soon, I’ve started talking to my potato plants again… Y/N, please come back soon.” You had been on a multi-Sol test-drive of the rover, trying to gently push its limits before the long pilgrimage that was to come. Mark loved your commitment to the rover, how you cared for it like your child - both your child - but all he wanted now was for you to return, safe and back in his arms.

Mark continued his daily report diligently - so diligently, in fact, that he was completely unaware of your early return back to the Hab.

All that could be seen on the screen was his eyes suddenly snapping to the side and widen with a gasp.

“Oh my God.”

In an instant, he was up and completely gone from the camera, but soon he returned, locked in a heated embrace with you.

You both crashed and clattered into the wall of the Hab; you straddling his thighs with your dusty suit rolled down, exposing your torso, and him laid almost completely flat on his desk chair, pulling you into him with all the force of a lonely lover finally reunited. Your lips moved with a frantic speed, making up for lost time, as your weathered and slightly dirty hands threaded through his hair. He clutched and squeezed all over your curves as he whispered affirmations of “God, baby, I missed you”, “fuck, I was so worried”, “I love you so much” between kisses.

Mark eventually broke away, only for a second, remembering in a panic that the computer was still recording. It took all his might to pull away from you, but you launched back in immediately, planting sloppy kisses down his neck. His eyes started to roll back with a sigh on his lips and his hand fumbled around for the computer’s off switch.

xxx

In all their years, the NASA employees had never been more shocked.

A simple briefing log quickly descended into softcore porn. But it was so hard to look away.

Mindy had her hands covering her eyes, but still secretly peeked between her fingers; this was by far the most interesting briefing she had ever been a part of.

“Is it over? Is it really over?” she asked worriedly from behind her hands. She got no response from Vincent who simply looked ahead, stunned and silent, no words to wipe their memories of what they just saw. An exasperated sigh sounded from Annie, her brow pinched within an inch of its life.

You were no exception; your own evening wear clung delightfully to your body as you strolled around the room. You clutched two glasses of champagne as you peered through the sea of faces: Chase was lounged against a table as he attempted to chat up his newest conquest, Foreman was hiding his laugh behind his hand at Chase’s romantic desperation, and Cameron had already walked back into the crowd with exasperation at her colleagues.

But none of them was who you were looking for.

Somewhere among the crowd of happy poker players was your boyfriend, James Wilson. Any opportunity to play poker with House (and raise money for charity, of course) Wilson would take and so you scanned over the green tables until, eventually, you found him.

James’s brow was furrowed more intensely than during one of his consults as he glared down at his cards. And his brow furrowed further has House leaned over with his trademarked childish grin with some devious attempt to put his friend off. A shout from Lisa Cuddy broke the two apart, her impressive stack of chips more than signifying her eagerness to play. They all looked so charming in their bow ties and dress respectively, James the most so: he was alluring in his fitted tuxedo, entirely at home in suave and sophisticated finery. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks and you couldn’t wait to spend it with him.

You started walking over to the trio as Dr House looked up at you and nudged Wilson in the side. James’s eyes flitted up to you and he was immediately transfixed. His gaze followed you like a moth to the flame as you walked towards him, as smooth as the swaying jazz in the background. James’s eyes ran up and down your body unabashedly with a small boyish smile to himself. If he could linger in every single inch of your body he would, worshiping the sight like a holy man to his only vice. Slowly, he dragged his eyes back to your beaming smile as your rounded the poker table to his side. You reached down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and as you pulled away, he followed into your warmth. James’s eyes remained closed for a moment, breathing deeply into your scent. As you greeted him, he replied with a high-pitched, almost pained sigh and a whisper.

“I really hate you.”

You were taken aback for a second. You looked down at your boyfriend with an incredulous smile.

“Oh, love you too, babe,” you replied, sarcastically. James’s brain suddenly kicked out of its daze as he reached up to stroke your hip.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just- you look- you’re absolutely stunning… But I still hate you.” He could be such an enigma sometimes.

“Why? What have I done?”

“You’re being very… distracting,” James’s eyes flicked to your lips for a second. Your head fell back as your let out a laugh.

“You’re usually fine with me being distracting,” you said, faux-innocently, using your height advantage to lean over James as your body pressed into his. Even an untrained eye could see his held breath at the touch of your body against his.

“Yes, I’ve seen you be very distracting through the windows of Wilson’s office,” House teased around the cigar between his lips. Your head whipped around like a flash to meet a wink from House as Wilson coughed and spluttered at his friend.

“What?! I thought the curtains were closed!”

“You did what in Wilson’s office?” Cuddy interrogated with disbelief from across the table as you and your equally-guilty boyfriend blushed a deep crimson.

“Anyway…” you rushed to change the subject from your less-than-professional sex life. But that didn’t have to be the end of your fun. “I got you a drink, James.” You bent forwards to place your second glass of champagne down on the table and unashamedly pressed your chest into James’s face as you leaned in. His eyes closed in a dizzy state of bliss.

“If you don’t stop now-“ James warned, lowly.

“Stop what, baby?” you replied coyly, brushing your fingers through your boyfriend’s coiffed hair just how he liked it.

“Please,” James let out in a whine. Just then, you spotted Cameron waving to you from across the room. Suddenly, you stood up straight, righted your dress and pressed a deep kiss to James’s lips. You ripped a low moan from his chest as you pulled away all too soon.

Goddamn it, why was Jim Kirk so attractive? Why did he always have this effect on you? He could melt you with a look, chance your plans with a word and alter your entire world with a kiss. But in good way, of course.

However, you weren’t yet sure if sneaking off to explore the forests of this random planet you were on constituted as good…

You were meant to be here for peace talks, to get the civilisation here onto the side of the Federation. But while the people discussed their opinions amongst themselves, James Tiberius Kirk – Captain of the USS Enterprise, grand Federation ship of exploration – decided to have some fun and do a little exploring for himself. And you, as the Captain’s loving partner were forced to come along too. (By forced, I mean you were subjected to Jim begging you to come with him, giving you the cutest puppy dog eyes imaginable until you agreed.)

So, after being picked up, spun around and littered with kisses by an elated Jim, you both snuck off out into the wilderness to explore.

At first, you were glad of being dragged out here. It was beautiful. It was like nothing you had ever seen; foliage leaned and bent into intricate designs nothing like what you had back on Earth, strange colours you never rarely ever seen in nature were now on display proud and vibrant, a pink sky shone down upon you, basking you both in an ethereal rose glow. You couldn’t help but fawn at the look of wonder Jim had in his eyes as he explored.

“Hey, honey! Come look at this!” Jim called over to you excitedly, around an hour into your trip. You poked your head up from behind the bush you were investigating to find him crouched, staring down into the greenery. You padded over to him and gasped at the utterly adorable sight in front of you: a full nest of baby creatures. Both animalistic and avian in nature, the fledglings huddled asleep in their nest, the second most fluffy things you had ever seen, after tribbles of course. The urge to reach out a cuddle one was immeasurable as you lowered yourself next to Jim and silently stared at these unknown life forms.

“Bet you’re glad you came out here with me now,” Jim teased, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You always do take me to the best places in the galaxy,” you begrudgingly agreed as you rested your head against Jim’s shoulder, the soft fabric of his uniform shift stroking your cheek. He laid a gentle kiss to the top of your head and secured his arm around your waist.

You both stayed like that for a couple more minutes, doing nothing but stare intently at every single little move the clutch of babies made in their sleep.

That was until Jim decided it was a good idea to get a closer look. He crept closer, reaching out his hand towards the nest, until it was nearly taken clean off by a long row of jagged teeth.

The mother now stood before you. And for what she lacked in size, she more than made up for with growling protective intensity. She was majestic; covered in plumes of multicoloured feathers yet held upon the ground with muscled, fur-covered legs. Like lightning, she was in front of the nest, teeth bared and poised for a fight. You and Jim immediately jumped back in shock, arms up in the air to mean the young family no harm. Alas, that was not enough as the mother suddenly pounced at you. You both took off running, full tilt, using all available energy to get away from the creature now giving chase. Adrenaline flooded your veins as you pushed on further, trying to keep ahead. Civilisation could be seen on the horizon as hope filled your body at the prospect of making it back from this trip alive. Why did you go with Jim? Why did you always end up in life or death situations on your holidays?

“I hate you,” you grunted out as you ran, lungs burning in your chest.

“Aww, I love you too, babe!” Jim called back, cheekily. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next trip!” You huffed at his idiocy.

But he was right. You’d be out with him tomorrow.

Weeks ago, you had quite literally bumped into each other; Matt had just stepped out of court, another case won, waiting for Foggy to come back from a coffee run, when you came colliding right into him, nearly sending you both arse over tit down onto the floor. His quick reactions saved you as arms went flying as you both grabbed onto each other, trying to right yourselves. You apologised profusely – you were in a rush, you weren’t looking where you were going – until you looked up at the man in front of you. All other words died in your mouth. You just stared at this beautiful Adonis, hardly believing your luck, still pressed against his hard body. Matt’s own senses went into overdrive, every single little sound and movement you made meeting his ears. He read you like a book and was captivated. As you righted yourself on you own two feet, he couldn’t help but lean forward and breathe in your sweet scent, mind fogging over with desire momentarily. Matt eventually snapped you both out of it, only to immediately send you reeling again:

“Careful, we can’t risk damaging someone as beautiful as you,” Matt said, with a suave smile. You blushed deeply, but couldn’t help but counter him with your own line.

“I really should be more careful, I’d hate for anyone as handsome as you to get caught in the crossfire.”

It took you both a long minute of gazing into each other’s eyes to notice that Matt’s arm was still held firmly around your waist. He suddenly drew back his hand with a mix of something between an embarrassed chuckle and a sigh at the loss of contact – his arm felt like it belonged on your waist.

You both stood there for the next five minutes, gentle smiles on your face, your next appointments completely forgotten. You much preferred to bask in each other’s presence and chat about everything and nothing for as long as the whims of the world would allow you.

The whims of the world soon came in the form of Foggy interrupting your intimate moment, coffee in hand and confusion (and a little pride) written on his face. Snapping out of the little world you had crafted for yourselves, Matt made your day before you could run off, asking you out on a date with a nervous hand rubbing his neck, inadvertently (or more likely intentionally) stretching out his already too tight dress shirt.

Of course you said yes, and thus you were drawn into a world of wining and dining with the plucky young lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen. He pulled out all the stops, treating you like royalty and pushing all your buttons like no one had ever done before. You were in heaven.

Now here you were, walking back from your third date, arms linked as you giggled at Matt recounting his and Foggy’s tales from Law School.

“Avocados At Law? Really?” you said with a cackle, trying to not double over with laughter and bring Matt down with you. “Honestly, it’s a brilliant name for your legal practice. Everyone would come for legal advice from the two young Avocados!”

Matt let out a shout of laughter, grinning like an idiot at your musical laughs filling the air. “Would they now?”

“Yes, absolutely! I mean, I would. You can come and defend me when I go to prison for something or other. Don’t know what though…”

“For stealing my heart,” Matt whispered into your ear with a sigh. You stopped immediately, standing in silence as you gazed over at the man who had just confessed at the altar like the good Catholic boy he was. An unknown force willed you to move in closer, but before you could take a step, you felt a drop of rain hit your cheek.

Dark storm clouds blanketed the whole sky as the heavens opened and rain fell with a vengeance. You came to your senses quickly and grabbed a hold of Matt’s arm, dragging him down the street with a laugh, childhood memories of playing in the rain flooding back to you. Soon you found a covered alley along the street and ducked into it, Matt pulled along with you as you tried to wait out the storm in some much needed shelter. The two of you broke out into laughter as you attempted to ring out your clothes while Matt made a futile attempt to dry his glasses on his already soaked through shirt. That shirt that was now sticking to Matt’s rock hard abs...

Matt soon noticed your staring, the hitch in your breathing a dead giveaway. He took a chance and stepped forward into your body, your warm scent yet again reaching his nose, barely dampened by the fresh rain pouring around you in biblical proportions now. Your breathing quickened as you stepped back and soon found the cold stone of the alley wall behind you pressed against your spine. And Matt didn’t stop coming. He was right up against you now, body pressed against your own and palms against the wall to enclose you in. The rain blocked out all other noise around you as your eyes drifted down to his lips. You hadn’t kissed yet. It was something you had daydreamed about nearly every day since your first meeting, but it still hadn’t happened. But Matt seemed more than happy to change this as his face moved in even closer, his breath fanning across your cheeks as your heartbeats rose. You raised a trembling hand to brush against his cheek, him leaning in without a moment’s hesitation. Your thumb stroked across his porcelain skin and light stubble until it met the edge of his lips. You gently caressed his bottom lip and his soft tongue came to meet it, eliciting a gasp from you. He knew he had you now. A flirty smirk stayed on his lips as he moved ever closer, noses brushing in the tight space. Your eyes fluttered shut as you both moved forward simultaneously, finally pressing your lips together.

You moved with such passion, but also tenderness, Matt’s arms holding you in, but cradling you like glass, you running a hand through his hair to draw a soft moan from his chest, but also to just feel and care for ever inch of his soul. You were intertwined; mind, body and soul together as one for a brief moment. The rain dampened all the trouble of Hell’s Kitchen down to peaceful silence; all was now focused entirely on this handsome man who owned your heart.

The need for oxygen eventually took over as you both pulled away but shared a light laugh as your foreheads remained connected. Matt – ever the beautiful Casanova, flirty remarks ready in an instance as sharp as the lines of the suits he looked so damn good in – now wore the most dopey grin you had ever seen.

“God, I wish I had done that ages ago,” Matt whispered with a sigh, so quiet that only you could hear – but something so sweet was only ever meant for your ears.

“Well, don’t stop now,” you replied, high on the adrenaline of the kiss. You grasped Matt’s tie firmly and pulled him in again. He chuckled at your burst of dominance against your lips, but still brought his calloused hands to stroke your hips all the same.

After the success of his and Nick Cage’s first film, a second was greenlit almost immediately with studios scrambling over each to get a piece of their next project. The boys set to work, spending countless days and nights gallivanting around Majorca, brainstorming the craziest ideas for their next adventure into Hollywood. And you got the joy of watching it all. Living with Javi was everything you could have dreamed of and seeing those two pitching crazier and crazier ideas to each other over the breakfast table was the cherry on top. Of course, some days were hard; finding the two of them passed out in a ditch from their LSD-fuelled escapades filled you with worry and anger, and not seeing Javi for weeks or maybe months on end when he was required in America and couldn’t bring you with him was more than your heart could bare. But seeing that little puppy dog of a man’s face light up when he eventually got home and back into your arms made it all worthwhile. And the phone sex wasn’t bad either…

Now everything was filmed, edited and prepared and tonight was the night when the first people ever would see the product of all their hard work. And you had the honour of being there too. You and Javi were pampered and dressed to the nines, currently sat in your fancy limousine which had just parked up at the premiere. Camera flashes bounced off the windows in dazzling displays and the roar of anticipation from the paparazzi slowly rose as they fought to see who had just arrived.

Javi’s anxiety was also rising, the stress and excitement etched clearly upon the contours of his face. You unbuckled your seatbelt with one hand, keeping the other firmly linked with his as you shifted into the centre seat of the car next to your husband. You hand came to hold his face, Javi leaning into your touch with a gentle smile.

“You’ve got this, baby. You’ve worked so hard, I’m sure it will be amazing. Tonight is your night. You deserve this.” You spoke to him so softly, all your care and attention focused upon him. You both stared into each other’s eyes, blocking out all the noise from outside; you were the only two people in the world right now. The most important to one another. Above all else. You could see the worry start to melt out of Javi’s face as he listened to your kind words. He brought your foreheads together, eyes closed in calm for a just a second. Only focused on you.

“I know. I know. Gracias, mi amor,” Javi whispered to you, holding you closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Javi,” you replied with a smile as your lips were brought together in a short, but tender kiss. You both pulled away, Javi collecting himself together and adjusting his tie.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Javi pushed open the door of the car and you were both immediately blinded by a fury of flashes as the reporters gazed upon your husband. As you waited back as he got out of the car, you saw Javi gain an almost ethereal glow in the flashes of light; your own personal angel bathed in holy light.

Javi turned to you, a grin on his face, all the previous worry now replaced with exhilaration and glee. He offered a hand to you and helped you climb out of the limousine to stand next to him.

If your retinas weren’t already scorched, they certainly were now as you and Javi walked up the red carpet, posing for photos and greeting some fans who had lined up outside the cinema for a glimpse of your husband. Javi’s arm stayed firmly hugged around you as your made your way up through the hordes of screaming photographers. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow when you would find one photo in particular from the event: Javi’s arm around your waist and lips pressed against your cheek in a kiss and you blushing at his public display of love and affection for you. The golden couple. Whispers of jokes about your situation or about people you could see around you passed between the two of you as you posed, both of you having to bite your lips to not be seen belly laughing in the middle of a Hollywood red carpet.

“God, mi ángel, you look so beautiful,” Javi purred into your ear, lust licking his words like a flame. Red flushed across your cheeks at his complement. You pushed your lips together with forceful desire and the crowd went wild. Javi quietly moaned against your lips, rapid shutter clicks from the press around you masking the sound from unwanted ears. It took all your willpower to pull away before the two of you ended up making out like teenagers in front of the whole world. You and Javi returned to modelling for photos, now with light blushes and knowing smirks on your faces.

The second man of the hour eventually presented himself to the crowd as Nick Cage made his way up the red carpet after you. He greeted you both – Javi with a bear hug and you with a hug and an elegant kiss in your hand. You moved off to the side as the writing duo posed together for the cameras and you smiled with so much adoration at the sight of the love of your life living his best life. Damn, he looks good in a suit. That tousled hair. That million dollar smile. That just-too-tight tuxedo. Good lord…

Your thoughts had to be quickly pushed aside as Javi joined you again as you and the rest of the cast and crew made your way into the cinema for the premiere. Attendants guided you to your front row seats and Javi’s hand immediately found yours again as soon as you sat down.

“I can’t wait for you to see this, amor,” Javi said with excitement. You were his rock, his judgement and his guiding light; your opinion was the most important of all he would hear tonight.

“I can’t wait to see it either,” you said with a smile. “Do you think you can cast me in your next movie? I could get used to this life. This is the fanciest movie night we’ve ever had!” Javi laughed as you settled into your plush seat, moments away from wanting to curl up with your husband under a warm blanket with popcorn like how you would usually do at home during a movie marathon.

“Absolutely, mi vida,” Javi chuckled. “I’ll write the part especially for you – the star of the show. Ooo, you could play Nick’s crime fighting partner and take down all the bad guys all by yourself!” It was now your time to chuckle back at his adorable little mind running away with him. So fucking cute. You could listen to Javi ramble on about his interests forever – the way his eyes lit up when he spoke, the way his whole body moved animatedly as he explained why he loved such a little hyper-specific part of the film he had just watched, the way his curls bounced about as he tried to singlehandedly act out a fight scene for you with more spark than an Energizer bunny. It was… gorgeous. But you were hardly alone in your wonder: Javi could listen to you talk about your own loves for hours, just gazing up at you with so much love in his eyes. He was absolutely obsessed with you.

Javi continued to babble on until the lights in the cinema eventually went down and you settled into the movie. Swirling colours covered the screen as all the hard work and effort of Javi and Nick was seen on screen for the first time. And what a result it was. Staring up at the screen, you could see so much of your husband in the movie: his sense of humour in the dialogue, his insecurities in the characters, his love of cinema in ever inch of the screen. The pure honesty on show astounded you as you found yourself stealing looks and smiles with Javi as you saw his fingerprints all over the story.

Eventually, the final fanfare sounded and the credits rolled. Rapturous applause filled the room as the audience raved and roared for the film. Everyone took to their feet in a standing ovation as Javi and Nick took a bow, a sheepish smile of pride on your husband’s face. The men shared a celebratory hug until Javi returned to your side.

“So…” Javi asked shyly. “What did you think?” Those nerves were back as he waited with baited breath for what you had to say.

“It was amazing, Javi!” You basically shouted at him as you attacked him in a massive hug.

“Really?” Javi replied, almost in disbelief.

“Yes! Really. You’ve done so well, honey. I’m so proud of you.” Cupping his face, you brought your lips together in a celebratory kiss. Javi grasped onto your hips with so much force, hugging onto you with everything he had. He dipped you slightly as your soft lips caressed each other’s with a sigh. Pulling away, tears of relief rolled down Javi’s cheeks as pure emotion filled his heart.

“Thank you. I love you so much.” You reached up to brush away his tears as Javi spoke so with so much desperate passion.

“I love you too, Javi.”

All these impulse actions were based off impulse thoughts and impulse emotions; emotions that he feels so fucking strongly. I mean, just look at the destructive power his anger and rage can bring upon his foes in a fight (you do look, you look very hard…). Their feelings swirl like the kaleidoscope shining from their head, and you found it simply hypnotising to watch those feelings spread across his body. You could watch the cogs turn in Ashton’s brain for hours, seeing each new emotion spread across his body like lava.

One of your favourites was the slow realisation that you had stolen permanently borrowed something of theirs: a certain red and black jacket, perhaps. They would be rummaging around their room, thinking they’ve gone mad because they could swear they left it right here. Evidently they were too dead asleep that morning to notice you slipping out of the bedroom, the jacket claimed for yourself. Eventually, he would come bounding into the main room of the Crook House, finding Milo tinkering away at their latest project, and you lounging in a chair wearing his most prized item of clothing. It would take a minute for him to even notice what you were wearing. “Y/N, where in the fuck is my j-“. There we go. You got to sit back and enjoy as the realisation of your thievery spread through his body like a wave on the shore, every one of his stance and posture and facial expressions each slowly changing down throughout him. It was captivating. Although not for too long as soon a smirk rose to Ashton’s face before they were barrelling at you, you both tumbling onto the floor in a mock fight to win the grand prize of the jacket, as Milo looked on with a smile and a shake of their head at these idiots in love.

Oh yeah, in love. So in love. Which thankfully was reciprocated on both ends. It had, in fact, been your staring that had helped get you together. Subtly wasn’t your strong suit - sure you could sneak into Ashton’s room silent and assassin-like without him noticing, but you weren’t as skilled at hiding how much you just stared at him, getting lost in every single part of the earth genasi. And… they noticed. Luckily, Ashton had also been pretty enraptured by you over the past couple of weeks, meeting pretty frequently on jobs as both colleagues and rivals. So, Ashton’s impulses being Ashton’s impulses, they walked right up to you after one of said jobs and asked you out right on the spot.

“Angel, I could feel your eyes on me for the last three hours, wanna go get a drink so I can return the favour?”

Of course, you said yes, and from then on you have been pretty much inseparable. You now lived at the Crook House and could now stare all you liked. And so could he. He really did. God he’d do anything for you. You were the best thing to have come into his life and he was not about to let you go any time soon.

Definitely not today.

Today, you two, for once, weren’t together; you had some things to buy in the market and Ashton had to go for one of their many strange meetings with Jiana Hexum. So, you walked through Elder’s Post, pushing through the hordes of tradespeople and customers alike, keeping your coin purse close to your side away from any thieves lurking. You had already picked up some food for the household plus some bits and pieces of metal Milo wanted for Fresh Cut Grass’s repairs, and then you moved onto the trickier task: healing potions. They were pretty essential, especially given how much you two got hurt on jobs, particularly Ashton - gods, he got beaten up a lot - and, sure, you could ask FCG for help, but you didn’t want to overwork them. Sadly, your group weren’t exactly rolling in cash so, shall we say, less reputable vendors of potions had to be your main source.

This included one particularly awful man, Rackoth. He was a leering, lecherous man, spindly and towering over most people. He was also a swindler with prices way too high for substandard potions at best. Both you and Ashton had had run-ins with him in the past and nearly none of them ended well. Unfortunately, all your other sellers were out and you were in a bind - FCG was undergoing some internal repairs with Milo at the moment, and so was largely out of action. Hence, you had to grit your teeth and bare Rackoth and his usual ways. His sunken, hollow eyes bore into your soul as he offered up some wildly off-colour “healing potions” at some astronomical price. Usually, you would try to keep your cool and try in earnest to haggle him down, but after one too many not at all innocent placements of his bony hands on your waist, you had had enough. You smacked his hand out the way hard and snapped back at him, calling him out on his extortionate business (and maybe also insulting his mother in Deep Speech - honestly, you can’t quite remember, it was all a blur). Suddenly, you felt a burn across your cheek as Rackoth punched you with a force you never expected from the scrawny man. You stumbled back in shock, but he launched forward to meet you, gripping you by the neck. You could feel his jagged nails biting at your skin as he roared at you to never return to his shop again, throwing you down onto the ground after he was done. The customers around you all gave strange looks as you picked yourself and your belongings up, no healing potions in hand, and carried your hurt pride home with you to the Crook House.

Mercifully, you found the house to be still and silent when you arrived. You were safe in your own home at last. The adrenaline of the altercation wore off and a few tears fell from your eyes. As you wiped them away, you noticed blood smeared across your fingers, from your injuries presumably, so you trudged your way with a sigh into your and Ashton’s room to clean yourself up. You passed a mirror as you walked down the hall, finally seeing the extent of your injuries with a groan: thick red blood dripped down the side of your face, matting your hair, and purple was starting to bloom around your eye from the punch. You winced as you lifted your chin seeing more purple marks at the top of your neck along with five punctures to your skin from Rackoth’s nails leaking a small trail of blood. With a turn, you saw the muddied and scuffed back of your jacket from your fall and emitted a groan in pain as you turned slightly too far. Your back would be black and blue in the morning thanks to your impact onto the cold stone ground. Honestly, you’ve looked better.

Gritting your teeth, you collected your strength and pushed on into your bedroom, but almost screamed as you were met by the sight of your partner sprawled on the bed counting coins from a leather pouch. He wasn’t meant to be back yet.

“Hey, Angel, you’ll never guess the fucking bonus we got from Jiana for that extra information. She was fucking thrilled-“. Ashton stopped as his eyes fell on you.

In any other circumstances, this would’ve been a beautiful show.

The swirling colours in the glass in Ashton’s head seemed to almost speed up and spark out as their mind processed your injured form before them. He blinked slowly as his piercing eyes scanned over you, searching for the answer… there. His beaming smile dropped into one of concern as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He breathed out a quiet “what the fuck?” in disbelief, before he suddenly took off, scrambling off the bed with zero coordination, but zero care for anything except you. Ashton stood on (and probably broke) most of their belongings as they ran over to you, immediately bringing his firm, calloused hands to your body as he checked you over. His eyes burnt a hole through your clothes with their intensity as he examined every single part of your body for more injuries - worry was the only emotion in him now. Ashton’s searing gaze on your body was usually a very good feeling, but you could see the bubbling anger low in him.

“Hey, Ash, I’m not dying!” You said with a pitiful attempt at a chuckle, trying to laugh off your injuries and put your boyfriend at ease. “I’m okay, really.” He clearly didn’t believe you as his roaming stare continued, logging in his mind everything he saw. His finger and thumb gripped your chin as he brought it up, inspecting the bruising to your neck, breathing out in disbelief. Rising their gaze to your face, Ashton gently prodded the bloody wound on your head with shaking hands. You pulled back slightly with a hiss of pain and that anger in him rose. Someone had hurt you. Red leaked into his eyes like a poison as they narrowed and focused on your own, still brimming with unshed tears. Already impossibly close, he took a step forward, towering over you, noses almost touching and hands coming back to your face. The delicate way he cradled your face in his large hands almost shocked you, the softness of his movements contrasting his hard, rocky palms. One thumb gently brushed away a stray tear on your cheek, both hands trembling as they grasped onto you.

“Who did this to you?” Ashton spoke so softly so that no one but you could here, but with so much menace for whoever the fuck thought they could touch you. Any attempt at him concealing his anger failed as it seeped through every pore in his body, every cell almost vibrating independently, ready for a fight.

“Ashton, really, it’s ok,” you counter again, trying to calm that fury in them that made you love them so much.

“No, it’s fucking not, who was it?”

“Ashton, it’s really not important-“

“Y/N.” He was firm. Final. You sighed before looking down slightly in defeat.

“Rackoth,” you breathed out.

“What. The Fuck. Did he do?” Ashton enunciated every single word, so slowly, so precise.

You stumbled over your words for a minute as you felt his gaze on you. He did deserve to know. That and the tiredness in your soul made all the words come tumbling out.

“I was getting healing potions because you’ve got that big job for Hexum coming up, and Milo is working on FCG and - shit! Letters needs a break sometimes! – but all our usual guys were out so I had to go to Rackoth. But that bastard stuck his prices up again. And they barely looked like healing potions - fuck me, Ashton, our bath water has more healing properties than that shit! And I was just so pissed off and. And... h-h-he had his hand on my waist and I just wanted to rip my skin off so I pushed him off and shouted at him and his potions and maybe his mother in Deep Speech? So he punched me. And grabbed my neck. And through me down. So yeah…” You stood in silence for a few seconds, taking a breath after your outburst, before you raised your head again to watch Ashton…

Now, here came the rage.

Ashton’s back straightened to an even higher height than before; every bone in their body tensed into a sharp point with their fists, now by their side, clenching, nearly popping joints. Their teeth clacked together in a bite, bared and ready to rip the throat out of the culprit of this heinous crime. The mesmerising colours beneath the glass in his skull seemed to swirl faster, getting brighter and brighter, threatening to violently burst free into chaos. The anger was white hot now, bleeding from his eyes and dripping down every tort muscle to a pool at his feet. A deep snarl sounded at the back of their throat, animalistic and ready to hunt.

“That piece of shit,” Ashton yelled out incredulously. “Fuck! That lanky piece of shit! That fucker’s going down!“ They had never sounded so serious in all their life. And so you needed to take action.

“Ashton. Babe! It’s okay, just leave him he’s not worth it.” Yet, it was not okay, and he was not paying attention. Like a flash, Ashton was at the bedroom door and screaming out.

“Oi, Grass! Grass! Where the shit are you?”

“They’re powered down. Ashton, don’t worry-“

“Argh, fuck!” they shouted, now moving at pace throughout your shared room. Trinkets and knickknacks alike were tossed around - no, thrown around - as Ashton scrambled from place to place at lightning speed, searching for something unknown. He grunted as he rummaged even further; you simply stood in the centre of the room, slightly startled by your partner’s sudden burst of movement. Eventually, with a cheer of triumph, from under a pile of multicoloured fabric he pulled out a slightly dusty red vial. Despite the slight discolouration, it was clearly a healing potion long forgotten and Ashton was soon back in front of you, pulling the cork out.

“Wait, no, I don’t need that,” you protested, “Ashton, you need these a lot more than I-“. You were cut off by Ashton shoving the neck of the bottle right into your mouth mid-sentence. The glass clinked against your teeth at the force as Ashton tipped the bottom of the bottle up, pouring the entire potion down your neck. You gagged as the bitter liquid hit the back of your throat. For all the difficulty of drinking the healing potion, it did thankfully begin to help you, like water refreshing you after wandering the dessert for a month. A dull ache passed through each of your injuries as the skin started to knit back together, eventually leaving no trace of ever tarnishing you but the now drying blood. You spent maybe five seconds checking over your body and by the time you looked up again, Ashton already had his trusty glass hammer clutched tightly in his hand. You had one last chance to stop him.

“Ashton, please, just stay here with me. You kill him and you’ll get caught and then gods know what will happen to you!” You pleaded to them, grabbing their arm, not wanting any more trouble for the day.

“Angel, I regret to inform you that I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Ashton growled lowly. “If that bitch thinks he can touch you and get away with it, he’s got another fucking thing coming.” He grasped the side of your head softly again, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered and rose to place an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on your forehead, before sprinting out of the room, one mission on his mind.

And there you were left, alone, staring off at the space your sparking barbarian once stood.

Even in times like this, he was beautiful to watch.

A singular tear rose in your eyes and fell as your exhaustion battled with new anxiety for Ashton’s safety. Of course you enjoyed your mountain of a boyfriend sweeping in to beat down those who had wronged you – I mean, who wouldn’t? – but your dear Ashton also had a tendency of not being the subtlest creature in the world. Sure his mystic colourful powers could occasionally let him pass through like a ghost, but not always. Frequently, they could be found in a fight, on the run from a fight, or on their arse thrown out for being in a fight. But they were just silly bar fights; this was personal. You just didn’t want him in trouble and it would bite away at you until he was back in your arms, safe.

However, predictably, exhaustion won out and you soon fought yourself flat out on the bed, still caked in your own blood, but no energy in your waking spirit to clean yourself up.

The next – how long had it been? – was spent in a daze, maybe sleeping, maybe just staring off, disassociating from the stresses of the day. Until Ashton emerged back through your door with a slam, sprayed slightly with blood that did not look like his own. You didn’t raise your head from the pillow, still waking from your haze, but you watched through glassy eyes as Ashton quietly placed down his trusty hammer in the corner of the room, slipped off his boots and padded over to you. He gently perched on the side of the bed and reached a calloused hand down to stroke your hair. His fingers were so tender and threaded through, caressing your scalp, almost sending you back to sleep. Gazing up at them, you saw the same intensity as before flooding their eyes, but this time the rage was gone, now replaced with so much love. Everything Ashton did carried that fire, that passion, but it always moulded itself into new shapes and forms, sometimes surprising even you. That’s probably what drew you too him, that fire, always burning bright out of every pore on his tough skin; no matter what he did or felt, it was always with such ferocious and intensity that you couldn’t look away, only stare further into the flames. But they never burnt you. They caressed you, held you, protected you at all costs. Not always in the safest of ways, but the intention was good and pure.

Ashton softly smiled at you and, without looking, reached back to find a (vaguely) clean cloth and started to dab at the dried blood along the side of your face. You stayed perfectly still, letting him work, enjoying this rarely seen quiet Ashton. They cleaned you up surprisingly well despite this not being their forte, moving from your face down to the marks on your neck, doing their slightly clumsy best, trying to remember the kinds of actions FCG would perform when in cleric-mode.

When all the dark red streaks had gone from upon your skin, Ashton placed down the cloth, but kept their hand cupped around your face. You threaded your own fingers with his and looked up.

“You get him?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I got him,” Ashton replied, just as softly.

A rush of emotions took over you all of a sudden: the relief that that fucking man who touched you so horribly had been dealt with, the pain of your whole bloody ordeal, the adoration you felt for your soft punk rock who cared for you so well, even in the ways he was not as accustomed to. You choked, more hot tears running down your cheeks. Ashton immediately bundled you up into their strong arms and held you in a tight hug against his chest.

“Aww fuck, Angel. Okay, okay, come here,” they cooed into your ear as your cries muffled into the leather of their jacket. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” And you believed every word of it. You grasped onto them like a lifeline with heavy and shaking breaths as you slowly pulled yourself back from the brink with his help.

“You okay now?” Ashton asked after a while and you nodded looking up through your eyelashes from your place on his lap.

“Shit, I’m sorry did that, Y/N. Fuck, I was just so fucking angry! I don’t care about a lot of things, but, goddamn, I care a lot about you. And I never wanna to see you like that again. I’ll do anything to make sure you don’t.” Ashton poured his heart out to you, his brutal honestly always hitting you right in the heart. You sat up and pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed as you gripped onto each other like you were the last things left in Exandria. The kiss deepened as your tongues slid across each other, tracing the other’s lips and swallowing their sighs. You pulled away for breath, but remained trapped in Ashton’s warm grasp, as he continued his assault of kisses over your cheeks. They came to rest soon, forehead pressed together with yours, soft eyes staring into yours in peace.

“Fuck, I love you, Angel,” Ashton murmured, his love and devotion towards you on display for all the world to see.

“I love you too, Ash,” you whispered back with a beaming smile. Ashton gave you one more quick peck before he shifted his position, lying down on the bed with you remaining on top of him, still encased in his arms. You both laid there in silence, listening to the other’s heartbeat, until Ashton spoke, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“What was that you said before about Deep Speech?” they asked and you giggled at his curiosity.

“I may or may not have insulted Rackoth’s mother… in Deep Speech,” you admitted shyly as Ashton’s eyes widened.

“That’s so cool. Wait, how do you know Deep Speech? Who are you?” they marvelled at your admission as you sniggered. “What did you say? Like in Deep Speech.” You repeated the deep grinding growls you had shouted at Rackoth and your partner’s jaw dropped.

“Okay, that’s hot, please talk to me more in Deep Speech,” you laughed out loud at Ashton’s antics (and remembered that information for later…). “I wish I’d brought you with me now. It was fucking great seeing him scared. Shit, I robbed you of your revenge quest, didn’t I?” Ashton carried on rambling, clearly having enjoyed being your knight in shining armour. Note to self: ask them later what they actually did to Rackoth…

“I swear to the gods if you said ‘Smiley fuckin’ day!’ just before knocking him out, I’m breaking up with you,” you joked. Ashton held a hand to his heart in mock hurt and tickled you away from your non-injured body parts as you cackled.

Your old friend exhaustion soon popped back up again as you let out a yawn, burrowing yourself further into Ashton’s body, nuzzling into his neck. His arms hugged you closer.

“Get some rest, love, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You took their advice, letting your dreams overtake you, staring at the one you loved most until your eyes eventually closed.

Obi-Wan paced around the briefing room, the artificial lights invading his senses. They were suffocating him; the whole journey from the hangar to here was suffocating. The creaking metal of the walls and the too-white lights pushed into his mind with every step, reminding him painfully that he was so far from the ground. He was in the vastness of space alone. Without you.

You were a guiding light in his life – always steadfast, always the same. Always that same wonderful person he fell in love with all those years ago.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on when he started loving you. Maybe he always has. You had been best friends since you were padawans. Two young Jedi hungry to learn, desperate to succeed. You were inseparable; you would sneak off every night for some secret meeting of just the two of you. Every shiny, naïve, joyous idea that came into your young heads you said and did and enjoyed. You explored the world around you, eyes wide and gleaming, and no warning lecture from any Jedi Master who caught you could deter this duo. A common thread linked you, a red tie around your hearts. You felt every pull and every tug, every single movement the other took like some kind of precognition. Thoughts and feelings flowed between the two of you without words, a single look into the other’s eyes saying more than the most eloquent bard with pen and paper.

So when the red cord around Obi-Wan’s heart started to get a little tighter every time he saw your beautiful smile, he was naturally fucking terrified.

Attachment was forbidden, feeling something more towards you was forbidden. But the jolt of that string around his heart felt more natural, more real, more true than any of the empty words the Jedi taught him.

He was so confused, so unsure. He tried pulling away from you, but that goddamn cord around your hearts dragged you with him no matter where he hid. You set alight the kinds of emotions he never thought he would feel, but it went against his entire way of life. And yours too. Why would he jeopardise your future in the Jedi Order for his silly little crush? It was your home too and he wasn’t about to cast you out onto the streets. Loving you from afar was far preferable to you risking your jobs for an attempt at a relationship, or even worse, you rejecting him altogether. You were his best friend and he didn’t want to lose you.

But now he was about to.

Why didn’t he take the mission? Why did he let you go? You were adamant to go, this was your operation and you were the commanding officer, so it was your mission to face alone. It was dangerous, sure, but nothing to challenge your expertise. Just a simple grab and go mission. Fly down onto the Separatist ship, grab the stolen holocron, fly back. Easy. What wasn’t easy was getting past the prying eyes of the enemy. But again, nothing to challenge you – you had done it a million times, slipping past battle droids like a ghost. However, this time, there were too many. Fleets of droids were parked in front of your destination – they knew you were coming. Theories of betrayers and weak links in the Republic whizzed through your mind, but you didn’t focus on them. You pushed on – through the ships, through the droids, through the pained shouts of Obi-Wan telling you to just come back. “It’s not that important,” he would shout, but you knew he was wrong. The holocron held vital information pertaining to the Jedi Order and you were not about to leave it in dangerous hands. You swore to protect the Order, and you were sure as hell going to protect it now.

Obi-Wan could only watch from the starflighter as you sped off into the fray, swerving and dodging between the blaster fire, praying to whatever gods were looking down upon you that you would be returned safe to him. And it seemed like they were actually listening to him as you shot down more and more droids, aided by the Republic gunship’s cover fire. As your ship disappeared inside the target cruiser, your comm link stayed open and the painful tie around Obi-Wan’s heart loosened slightly. You were winning and you were going to come home safe to him. You narrated your surroundings to Obi-Wan, the commanders and clones at work between deep breaths as you snuck behind the backs of your foes, swiftly cutting down any droids in your way. Rustles of your hurried searching echoed through the loudspeaker of the control room, until you let out a single breath of relief.

“It’s here.”

Then it all went wrong.

Your comm link fizzled out with a sharp ring and every person in the room waited in silence for you to reconnect. All eyes focused on the loudspeaker before a deafening explosion sounded out. Obi-Wan felt his soul leave his body and the red string around his heart knot shut. He ran to the massive windows at the front of the starship only to see blinding fire. An orange glow bathed the entire control room as the Separatist cruiser you boarded exploded into flames. Gasping for air, Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to every corner of space in front of him, desperately searching for anything to signal your escape. Yet he found nothing.

No, no, no, no, no. Please gods no. Not you. Not now.

His feet moved before his brain could register it. Obi-Wan was sprinting out of the control room to board any available ship in the hangar. He even ordered a squad of clones out of their ship with an uncharacteristic shout and took off in it to search for you. He’d apologise to them later. You were more important to him.

Shouts of objection by the other commanders flooded through his comms to the point where Obi-Wan turned it off with a slam of his fist. He flew around the wreckages of droid ships with a speed bordering on hyperspace, but found nothing. No sight of you. No sight of your ship.

Gods, no. Fuck, where are you?

He flew faster still, his steering getting faster and jerky, checking every nook and cranny of the charred shell of the target cruiser from which the explosion emanated. At this point he was barely using his eyes, only the tug of the cord connecting you both, trying to pull and follow it to its end where he would find you. The cord wasn’t cut, he could still feel the faintest connection between you both… he just couldn’t find you.

Please, no. Y/N don’t leave me.

Suddenly, blaster fire skimmed off the roof of Obi-Wan’s ship. The Separatists had found him. It took every single bit of strength in his mind and body to drag himself away from his search and retreat back to the Republic ship. The red cord got longer, you felt far away, almost out of sight.

So now here he stood, on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of a briefing room with nearly all hope lost. Various commanders and clones tried to discuss their next moves in the mission, but he paid attention to none of it. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain and worry radiating throughout his entire body. Tears brimmed in his eyes, threatening to fall as his heart got heavier and heavier in his chest. The only words that got through was an admiral’s strong suggestion to retreat. Anger flared in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he spun around ready to fight anyone who would even consider leaving you lost in the coldness of space. He argued back and forth with a cutting intensity, but deep down he knew the admiral was right. The first mission of the Jedi was to protect and Obi-Wan had to protect his soldiers. But he couldn’t abandon you. That fucking red string was getting thinner, only a couple of fraying threads remained. The slightest tug could break it and you would be lost forever.

“General Kenobi, we must flee now. The Separatists are still out there.”

“I am aware of that Admiral, but we need to stay and fight.”

“Sir, we can’t. We are low on fuel and our shields are failing. I know General L/N is important to you, but we must leave now.” Of course they all knew, it was impossible to miss the fact the two of you were attached at the hip, the way you would talk about each other. They knew there was probably something going on between the two of you, but respected you both enough to leave you to it. Thus, they also knew that Obi-Wan was only acting out of pain. He was an excellent Jedi and a compassion commander to all his clones; he was not usually like this. It was clear the route of his anger the potential loss of you. But that didn’t make the anger go away. The fire in his eyes got darker as he stepped forward to the admiral.

“Now listen here. That is no concern of yours.”

“I mean no offense, General, but you must be realistic.”

“I am. I am being realistic and we need to stay.”

“L/N is gone, or else they will find a way themself-“

“No! They are not gone, they are still here.”

“Sir, please-“

“I won’t leave them!”

Suddenly, the blast doors opened and Obi-Wan swore he was dreaming. There you stood right in front of him. Singed and battered, your robes covered in soot and a small amount of blood dripping down the side of your face. You can’t be real, Obi-Wan thought, they are gone, they are dead. This had to be an apparition, some trick his grief playing on him. But you walked through the doors just like you, and looked just like you, and smiled at him just like you. Your eyes bored into his and made his heart clutch in his chest. It was you. You were okay.

Wordlessly, you dragged your eyes away from Obi-Wan, glanced around at the room full of officers. Your gaze fell upon the Admiral you had heard through the walls in deep debate with your fellow Jedi. Your hand burrowed on your pocket for a second until you withdrew a glowing blue palm-sized cube; the holocron. A gasp rang through the room at your victorious mission and you tossed the holocron to the Admiral who only just to caught it in his own hands. You gave him a light knowing smile and nodded your head towards the door. Understanding flashed across his face instantly as he began to quietly usher out the rest of the officers with a smile of his own.

Soon, only you and Obi-Wan remained. The tension in the air was palpable. You just stood gazing at each other, barely believing they were stood here with each other again. Neither of you know who moved first, but soon you were both running full tilt at the other and colliding. Hard. Arms went flying everywhere as you pulled each other into a bruising hug, pushing all their shared pain, anger and relief into it. Nothing else mattered now. Only the two of you. Both your pairs of legs buckled underneath you as you lowered down onto your knees, continuing the hug. After what felt like hours, Obi-Wan pulled away, staring down into your tired eyes. A tear ran down his face as he cupped your face with his large calloused hands. His thumbs brush along your cheeks, wiping away your own tears. He was so fucking relieved. The flurry of emotions inside of him blurred his mind of all common sense, only following what felt good. And you felt so damn good. Without another thought, his moved his head down and captured your lips with his. You were caught off guard, lost in the feeling of finally being back in his arms. Back home. Your eyes fluttered shut and your lips moved in tandem with his. You melted into each other grabbing at anything at all, losing yourselves in the feeling. All of a sudden, Obi-Wan pulled away, leaving you breathless and seeing stars.

“I love you, Y/N” he admitted, staring deep into your gorgeous eyes. “Darling, I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same, but I wanted - needed - you to know.” A beaming smile rose on your face, stretching all the way to your ears. You reached up and pushed back a loose strand of hair, threading your hand into his hair as his eyes closed with a sigh.

“I love you too, Obi-Wan,” you replied as his eyes instantly shot open at your words. His smile matched yours as he hugged you again, this time fully encased in joy. You laughed lightly at his antics as you gripped onto him like a lifeline, your exhaustion from the mission starting to get the better of you. Eventually, Obi-Wan pulled away again, but looking more sorrowful this time, more tears falling.

“I was so scared, darling,” he rambled breathlessly. “Fuck, I was terrified I’d lost you. I went out, I couldn’t find you, I looked everywhere, I thought you were dead, you should be dead, fuck, what happened, how are you here-“

Immediately, you brought your hands to cup his face, noticing his panic and trying to calm him down. You stroked along his cheekbones lightly, bringing him back down to you. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” you whispered to him lightly. “The holocron was booby trapped, they knew we would try and retrieve it. Some kind of self-destruct thing I think. Try and blow us up with it. But it’s okay, I got out, I got to my ship just in time and hid until it was safe. I’m here. I’m okay. I’m safe.”

Your words soothed Obi-Wan as you brought him down from his panic attack. He encircled you with his arms, pulling you onto his lap so your bodies were as close as physically possible.

“Please, never leave me again,” he whispered, barely audible over the thrum of the ship around you.

“I will never leave you,” you replied, more truthful in your words than ever before. “I’m yours.”

Your lips melded together again, saying everything that had been unspoken for years. Gods, the years have been long, skirting around your feelings for each other. But now you could be freely in love.

Then you, Anakin, Ahsoka, or on one unfortunate occasion, Mace Windu, would need to swoop in and shove him out of danger.

God, he’s so whipped.

And Anakin never fails to bring it up.

“What was that lesson we had the other day, Master? Something about staying focussed and not getting distracted?”

Cue some adorable Obi-wan blushes.

Also, contrary to popular belief, Anakin is not dumb. So he definitely knows something is going on. But he respects your privacy enough to stay quiet. Even though you two constantly make it painfully hard for him to stay silent when you keep showing up to training in Obi-Wan’s robe. (It’s not your fault it’s so warm and comforting and still smells like him). You both will be the death of him.

Oh, ALSO also, if you two were together when you were younger, then Qui-Gon DEFINITELY knew. It’s Qui-Gon fucking Jinn – of course he knew.

Obi-Wan can always sense when you are around; your Force aura is so distinctive to him that just sensing it and you in the next room can calm his nerves.

When he is having a bad day, particularly in the midst of the Clone Wars, the way you gently pull him into your strong arms and run a tender hand through his hair has him purring. All his troubles melt away. Your breaths sync and he feels genuinely at peace for the first time in a long while. And he can feel your Force presence giving the same warm hug to his own, melding with it and softening all the hard edges.

Obi-Wan is the most supportive boyfriend you could ever dream of. He is your biggest cheerleader, especially when one rather dickish Jedi Master doubted your abilities in the Force, even going so far as to publicly ridiculing you when you volunteered for a difficult and dangerous mission.

Obi-Wan was seething.

Never before had you seen such a fire burning in his eyes, threatening to leap out and scorch the man where he stood. But he rose from his chair with grace, stayed serene, maybe even aloof to the untrained eye… then he tore the master down with words as sharp as an assassins blade. He was cold and clinical with his arguments, but also elegant and convincing to every other master on the council, with no one noticing the threat bathing his tone. But the obnoxious master noticed. And fear filled his soul. He quickly apologised to you and sat down again, remaining silent for the entire rest of the meeting.

Afterwards, when you and Obi-Wan reached the safe confines of your room away from prying eyes, he silently took you into his arms, encasing you in his love. Wiping the stray tears that escaped from your eyes, he held your trembling hands to his heart and reminded you again and again and again how much he loved you and how strong you were and how he would always, always, protect you.

Hugging is very important in your relationship. It brings you both the amount of comfort you have been starved of as Jedi forbidden to form attachments. So, hugs are very frequent. In celebration at the end of a long mission. In support after going to hell and back in service of the Republic. In total serenity at night as you lay in bed together, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

One of Obi-Wan’s favourite types of hug is when you are both getting ready for whatever mission or posh event the Jedi Order have decided to send you to this time, or even just getting ready for the day ahead.

Obi-Wan has just finished getting dressed and grooming his ✨glorious hair✨ while you are stood at your floor length mirror putting the last of your robes on. He is instantly drawn to you. There’s nothing special about what you are doing - I mean you are beautiful, so of course you are already special (no self-deprecating in this house, I know y'all are beautiful ❤️) - but just seeing you so calm, in such a domestic light - you are so beautiful.

Without a word, Obi-Wan slowly walks over to you and slides his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. You smile lightly at his reflection in the mirror, but continue to dress yourself, Obi-Wan not minding, not disturbing you, simply enjoying the contact of his body against yours.

Once you are finished fiddling with your robe, you lean back and close your eyes in bliss, relishing in this rare quiet moment. The inevitable knock of the outside world on your door will come soon and drag you away. But for now, neither of you think about that. You just stand, eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other, and never letting go.

Your lives were incredibly busy, barely having a minute to yourselves, but when you could, you would both jump at the chance to train with each other. All your emotions about your jobs and the world, and sometimes, your partner, could be unleashed here as you swirled around each other, searching for cracks in the armour of the opponent you both knew so well. And Obi-Wan could never be one to pass up the opportunity to have you sprawled out and panting beneath his body in defeat, completely at his mercy. Or him beneath you…

As you are both accomplished and skilled Jedi, you frequently are sent on the same missions, having proved to the Council on many an occasion how well you both work together and how well you complement each other.

So, inevitably, you have sadly both seen each other injured too many times. Obi-Wan would do anything for you, anything to protect you, so he has, still does and will continue to take bullets for you. It pisses you off no end that he would sacrifice himself for you, lecturing him harshly about his recklessness in your tent as you patch him up after the battle. But he doesn’t care. He’s keeping you safe and that is more important to him than any mission objective.

Therefore, when you are injured, his entire world stops.

He was enjoying himself before, getting cocky and joking around with you as you shredded the battle droids together. Evidently too cocky.

A rogue grenade thrown by that one fucking battle droid you both missed comes soaring through the sky towards you. He is too far away, too late to warn you. Terror fills your whole body as the grenade falls at your feet. Autopilot and adrenaline takes over as your grasp it and throw it as hard as you possibly could away from your squad of clones.

It gets far enough away to protect your men, but you get caught. The exploding fireball throws you back, your body smacking into a stone wall and landing with a groan.

Obi-Wan is fucking terrified.

And suddenly he’s running. Every possible awful thing that may have happened to you is running through his head like a bullet train of pain. He reaches your unmoving form and felt his heart drop as he saw your eyes closed and unresponsive.

“Please, gods no. Fuck. Darling? Can you hear me? Fuck, please say something, my love. Please don’t leave me.”

All he could think as he scooped you up in his arms was fuck the mission. Sure, it was important. But nothing was more important to him than you. He got you to safety, cutting down the remaining battle droids with a dazzling fury, helped by your clones who were equally pissed at your injury. Well, maybe not equally. Nothing could beat Obi-Wan’s whirlwind of emotions right now.

He is by your side constantly when you are injured; while you sleep, waiting for you to wake up, holding you when you finally do and getting you anything you could possibly need, no challenge, no absurd request too big. Anything to put a smile back on his favourite person’s face.

The recklessness of the both of you is also the cause of a number of arguments. Your love is so strong so your arguments, while rare, are strong too. You both want each other to be safe, so you both hate it when the other puts themself in danger for the other.

Cue the blazing screaming matches fuelled by so much love it hurts. You are both fiercely protective of each other so you certainly don’t blame each other. But seeing the love of your life hurt in any way stirs up an inferno of emotions.

After this kind of argument, you both need your space and will actively leave rooms whilst still angry in order to stay away. When you absolutely have to talk, Obi-Wan will only talk in uncharacteristic short sharp sentences, no emotion behind his words, only cold. And so you reply the same.

But this doesn’t last for long. Eventually, if he is at fault, Obi-Wan will return to you, tail between his legs. And if you are at fault, I'm sure you would do the same. You stay up most of the night having such a deep, earnest conversation about it all, tears and pure love spilling from the both of you throughout.

Your love is a furnace that can never be put out.

If only you could both show affection in public, but alas the goddamn Jedi Order with their goddamn rules about attachment mean you both have to get a goddamn lot more sneaky.

Both of you are terrified of being expelled from the Order, so publicly the most of your PDA is the odd lingering touch of a shoulder, or Obi-Wan occasionally walking next to you with his hand on the small of your back, claiming he was giving you directions if anyone asked (despite the fact this was a temple you had lived in basically your entire life and really would never need directions in).

Obi-Wan is also a little shit, so expect the most sultry teasing whilst he keeps a perfectly straight face.

Whilst in the library as you searched for your necessary book, you would feel a familiar presence behind you as a hand wandered from the top of your shoulder, gently stroking the length of your spine and landing with a firm grasp of your ass. And you couldn’t make a sound. Not with half a dozen Jedi Masters just around the other side of the bookcase. Obi-Wan would press his whole hard body into your back firmly as he continues his assault, warm breath tickling the side of your neck as he brings his lips to your ear.

“What’s wrong dear? Cat got your tongue? I certainly don’t remember you being this quiet last night. Bet you’d enjoy it though, me fucking you right against this bookcase as you struggle to stay silent on my cock. Would you like that, darling?”

That little shit.

As cocky and smooth talking that bastard is, it is also very easy to fluster him. Simply push him into a dark corridor, corner him against the wall and slam your lips against his with an undeniable might. You would have him whimpering into your lips, growing quickly hard pinned under your body. Then… just walk away. In that moment, he would give you the universe if you asked. He would follow you around like a puppy for the rest of the day, begging for more attention, more touch, anything.

You prided yourself on being a member of the mighty Jedi Order. Your home planet did not take kindly to Force-users, a threat of execution hanging over your head. But the kind Masters of the Order found you and saved you and gave you a home. Part of you felt indebted to them for their generosity. But once you tapped into your Force powers, you saw the wonder of your new world. The beauty of the swirling Force around you, ever-present and always by your side, like an old man and his dog. The power to help and protect people at your fingertips. Who were you to think you could mess with this beauty? It was something to be protected.

Not mess around with as though it were his own personal playground like a certain blue-eyed Jedi…

Skilled in the Force he was, and good and purehearted he may be, but breaking the rules was not something you could stand for. The rules were there for a reason. To stop you from getting hurt. Or others from getting hurt too. The Masters knew what they were doing and you trusted them all with your life. So why did Obi-Wan think it was okay to go galivanting around the temple after curfew, breaking into every locked room just for fun.

So after months of searching for someone, anyone, any single Master willing to take on the boy and train him to behave, all eyes eventually fell on Qui-Gon Jinn. The unorthodox Jedi. The peacekeeper. The man who followed like everyone else, but took a different path to get there. Maybe, just maybe, he could help him find a place in the Order.

And how you got thrown in there with them you will never know. Something to do with bringing you out of your shell to experiment with the great power your possessed.

You respected Master Qui-Gon, he was a kind and softly spoken Jedi, generous with his time and his teachings, always available for your questions at the most stupid hours of the night. He strayed from the Order, but was conscious enough of his surroundings to see how far was too far. Obi-Wan was too far.

As strong-willed as Qui-Gon Jinn was, not even this Master Jedi could withstand his two padawans bickering constantly in his ear. Arguing about every little disagreement. Shouting about every wrong move on a mission. You two could never see eye to eye.

Thankfully, what you agree on was how much fun it was trying to kick the shit out of each other during sparring. It was good to vent your anger at each other and made Qui-Gon’s life slightly easier, especially if he had to endure a long trip with the both of you.

So here you stood in the cavernous training room of the Jedi Temple, all alone and waiting for your fellow padawan to arrive. You impatiently tapped your finger nails along the hilt of your lightsaber, running through in your mind all the interesting books you could be reading in the library if you just left now instead of just standing here like an idiot, like waiting for the last bus that will never come. The clock on the wall ticked by slowly as your already limited patience for the man dwindled.

Suddenly, a glorious thud rang out through the training room as Obi-Wan threw the door open and strode in.

“You’re late”, you muttered in annoyance.

“Barely”, he replied with his signature smirk.

“You’re three minutes late.”

“Darling, if you think three minutes is a long time, then I think you should be grateful the Jedi Order doesn’t allow attachments.”

Your eyes snapped to his in shock, cheeks blushing slightly red, at a complete loss for words. Obi-Wan just stood there with his signature smirk, enjoying his new-found high ground above you.

That arrogant, smooth-talking little prick.

You composed yourself, trying to purge your brain of the fact he even brought up attachment to you. “Ready to lose?”, you taunted, stepping onto the training mat. Obi-Wan let out a dry laugh.

“In your dreams,” he growled, removing his outer robe and rolling up his sleeves. Your eyes lingered on his toned arms. Maybe that attachment line did get to you. It stayed stuck there at the back of your mind and you didn’t know why.

You followed your fellow padawan, removing your overcoat and pulling out your lightsaber. Centring on the Force within you, you tried to clear your mind, readying yourself for your battle, finger nails tapping against your lightsaber again to attune your mind to your weapon.

“Stop that.”

You opened your eyes in confusion to see Obi-Wan closer now, across from you on the mat, glaring at your hand.

“What?”

“That bloody tapping. Stop that. It’s annoying.”

You raised your head in defiance, locking eyes with him and tapping all your ten finger nails against the hilt of your lightsaber loudly. Obi-Wan snarled lowly under his breath, eyes darkening.

“You know you can surrender at any time, right? I won’t hold it against you if you want to. We both know I’d win anyway.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you pushed, stepping closer. “I mean the Jedi trials are coming up and I wouldn’t want to rob you of this precious training time. You’re going to need all the help you can get.” Obi-Wan was taken aback, maybe even insulted, eyes glaring down at you with a look no Jedi should have ever possessed.

“Enough talk. Let’s dance.”

You both ignited your lightsabers simultaneously, his blue and yours green, bathing your faces in colour. Slowly, you circled each other, eyes locked like a sniper on ever slight movement of the other, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

All of a sudden, Obi-Wan was moving, running towards you with piercing intensity, his blade swinging at you. You had to jump back out of shock, your own saber only just meeting his to block the strike. Sensing you were on the back foot, he tried again, swinging in the opposite direction, but you were ready this time. With swift movements, you nimbly dodged under his arm, spinning to return the strike against his trailing arm, but he sensed you without even looking and spun back around to meet you and bash your weapon away.

Damn he was good.

Your battle of the wills continued, both of you equally matched, swinging wildly at each other, a rainbow of sparks flying off your lightsabers every time they collided. You both tested each other’s limits and pushed each other’s buttons with your opposing styles of combat; his impulsive and unpredictable, yours straight-edged and strong. If you weren’t currently in a fight to the (not quite) death, you might have pondered the effectiveness of the two of you working and fighting together. Your presences in the force complementing and bolstering the other as you cut down your enemies at the speed of light. Your strength and knowledge of the Jedi ways alongside his creativity in a pinch, daring to go the places no other Jedi would think – you’d be unstoppable. The rebel and the devotee side by side.

Your ears began to ring with the deafening echoes of your lightsabers crashing into each other with all the power in your bodies. As you ran in to take another strike, Obi-Wan surprisingly lowered his weapon, and your slightly faltered in your run in confusion. Instead he raised his other hand and narrowed his eyes in concentration. What the hell was he doing? Out of nowhere, you suddenly tripped over nothing, stumbling to the side, your swing going way over your opponent’s head. That sneaky little shit. Taking advantage of his mischief, Obi-Wan barrelled towards you, throwing you back dangerously with every one of his powerful, successive swings. As you teetered on the edge of the training mat, you gained your footing again, stopping your retreat once and for all. You met his next strike with the same intensity as him, holding him there as your lightsabers sparked and stuttered at their prolonged contact. He pushed further, his might forcing you down. Your left leg buckled and you fell down onto one knee. Your opponent pushed down again, smirking at his near win. Throwing all your energy in, you tried to push him back, but your arms were shaking and begging you to give in.

Until your saw it. Yet again. His trailing arm. Both hands forcefully clutched his lightsaber as he held you down, but his non-dominant left elbow was up. It didn’t match to the stance Master Qui-Gon had taught you both all those years ago; the arm should be kept in in case of revealing a weak spot. You had worked tirelessly, late into the night, trying to perfect these moves as you had been taught. But he was deviating again. This was your chance.

Summoning all your might, you shoved him back with your lightsaber with a shout. As he wound up to swing in again, you pounced. You rolled out of the way in a flash, catching his trailing arm in the process. While he slowly turned for your body to strike again, you garnered all your remaining strength and ran into his body. Hard. Your torso collided with him with a force he had never experienced, the shock sending him tumbling to the ground with his left arm held hostage. Obi-Wan fell to the ground with a thud, your whole body landing on top of him. You struggled around for a second, both of you trying to retain your dominance, but you stayed on top, catching his wrists in one hand as your straddled his hips. Your opposite hand slammed down hard upon his right hand and, with a groan, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber went tumbling out of his hand. But you still had yours. Your blade arced round quickly, leaving a blinding green path in the air, stopping against Obi-Wan’s neck. The pulsing blade stayed a hair’s length away from his pale skin, no matter how hard he struggled against you.

Pride filled every vein in your body. You had won. Here he laid, defeated below you. And you liked it. Of course you liked seeing him lose; who wouldn’t enjoy seeing their rival on the floor beneath them. But as you peered down scanning his flushed face, his messy hair strung out in every direction, the pants escaping from his pink lips. He looked beautiful. Stunning. Sprawled out under you. Your hips accidently brushed against each other, both of your emitting the kind of quiet groan never heard within these temple walls. Both your eyes locked with a new emotion swirling in them. Admiration? Lust? Love? Obi-Wan had always been one to spill his thoughts and emotions at the drop of a hat, and now, now he stopped silent. He looked almost submissive. The unknown forces of the universe pushed your head closer, your foreheads barely a breath away. Your eyes caught the clock on the training room wall across from you. A smirk of your own raised to your lips.

“Look at that. Three minutes. Guess you really didn’t last a long time,” you taunted. Finally, you got payback as a blush spread across his cheeks. He was still silent, staring at you with an intensity you had never seen, even throughout all your years of fighting and arguing and aggression. This seemed stronger. Visceral. All encompassing. Maybe he didn’t hate you. And maybe you didn’t hate him. Especially not when his hips made another testing brush of your own, sending euphoria through every atom of your body in a way you had never experienced. It was good. Your head moved again, getting further, closer to him. Your souls seemed joined in an exciting new world of passion. Both your lips got closer, eyes fluttering closed as your lips slightly brushed with a sigh.

“Y/n and Obi-Wan.” The door slammed open as the voice of Master Qui-Gon rang out across the training room. The two padawans scrambled up from their compromising position, rushing to right your clothes and hair before he could notice. Thankfully, it didn’t look like he did as he scanned over the two of you.

“Both of you hurry,” your master announced. “There is conflict on Pantora and we must assist them. We leave in ten minutes. I’ll brief you both on the way.” Both padawans nodded quickly, pushing down their new found emotions and grabbing their belongings to prepare for their mission. As they both headed for the door, their Qui-Gon’s voice rung out behind them.

“So training went well did it?” You both turned to him in shock to see a knowing smile on his lips, quickly turning back in embarrassment of maybe being caught. Your eyes flicked to your side to see Obi-Wan’s trained on you. A slight smile came to both of your lips.

Maybe you still hated him.