Private Smoke and Steel

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

The doors to the cantina hissed open with a sigh of old hydraulics and warm air — spiced with blaster oil, fried meat, and a dozen different conversations — spilled out into the dusty Mandalorian street.

And then she stepped inside.

Wearing matte-black duraplast molded to muscle and motion, her combat jumpsuit clinging to every line like it was sewn in shadow. She moved like she wasn’t just used to danger — she invited it. A slow, confident gait that drew attention without asking for it. One hip cocked subtly as she paused at the threshold, amber eyes scanning the room to gauge it patrons.

Her gloved hand slipped back through tousled brown hair, brushing it away from her face with a flick that was casual and calculated.

She wasn’t hiding who she was - she knew she stood out as a Jedi.

But she wasn’t here to posture, either.

The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order was on Mandalore. Alone. Ahead of the Alliance delegation — and very much off the palace grounds. Tonight, it wasn’t about meetings or speeches or banners hung in peace. Tonight was about something simpler.

She wanted a drink. A hot meal. And a closer look at the people she might one day call allies again.

Bootsteps slow and deliberate, Valery made her way toward the bar, her gaze drifting across the patrons — warriors and smiths, hunters and veterans, all Mandalorian. She didn’t flinch. She smiled. Something slow, something curious, something just dangerous enough to suggest this wasn’t her first time being the outsider.

She reached the bar, leaned an elbow against the edge, and tilted her head just enough to let the overhead light catch her eyes.

"What would you recommend for someone like me?" Valery asked the bartender with a smirk.

Adonis Angelis IV ​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Shore leave — army-style.

That was the plan. Booze, armor-grease, and some real food. He'd had enough of powdered rations from the Taris campaign. Enough of the dead. Enough of their wars. The fires of Taris still burned behind his eyes, the first real combat he'd seen. And what a welcome to war it had been. He'd cut down waves of undead alongside his Mandalorian brothers and sisters, fighting not just to survive, but to save the people trapped beneath their broken city. Adonis had earned this time. And more importantly- this beer.

He sat at the bar beside another soldier, someone from a different clan but still one of the Great Heathen Army. Not a Knight, but kin all the same. Aliit. He'd learned that word fast. He had started as an outsider when he fled the Alliance. Fled his family on Vaal. But over the past month, the gaps had begun to close. The pain began to dull. It was hard to mourn when you were knee-deep in rotting husks, swinging steel, sweating under the weight of a war that didn't care where you came from.

Adonis wore civilian clothes, a tight maroon shirt that clung to sore muscles like a second skin. His camo fatigues hung loose around his legs, hiding the wraps around his aching knees. Dramatic landings looked cool, but they left a mark. One of his large hands nursed a cold bottle of beer, condensation slipping down the glass like a slow leak in time. He took a long pull. For once, things were quiet. This was going perfectly.

Until she walked in.

The cantina didn't go silent- this was still Mandalore- but the air thickened. Like a storm had stepped through the door. The Force surged up Adonis's spine like thunder, coiling in his chest before he even looked. And then he did. Slowly.

There she was.

Valery Noble.

He recognized her instantly. The holos back on Vaal always showed her swathed in Jedi robes, impassive, serene. The face of order. The sword of the Jedi. If his father hadn't been so wary of the Force, Adonis might've ended up in that same temple on Coruscant, repeating mantras instead of carving his way through death and dirt. Yeah. He knew Valery Noble. Knew of her. But nothing prepared him for the reality.

She didn't move like a politician. She didn't posture like a peacekeeper. She moved like someone who knew what she was capable of, and didn't need to prove it. Every step was deliberate, coiled, precise. Her body language didn't ask for space, it took it. And she was stunning. Not in the holonet way, but in the kind that commanded attention. Battle-forged. All sharp eyes, confident stride, and a body shaped by survival and purpose. She wore strength like a second skin. Her beauty wasn't delicate. It was disciplined. Refined through fire. Adonis tilted his head, stealing a glance. Not gawking. Studying. Respectful. Curious. Drawn in despite himself. There was something about her that shifted the gravity in the room. Like everyone else just remembered they weren't the most dangerous person in it.

Force help me, he thought, she's even hotter in person.

He looked away before it lingered too long. Back to his beer. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't reckless, she was married after all. And he damn sure wasn't looking to pick a fight- not with someone who could kill him with a look. Then her boots stopped beside him. Right beside him.

Well, shab.

"Samir," he called to the bartender without looking at her. "Get us two whiskies. Hot." He turned his head slightly, gaze sliding to meet hers, amber against dark, warrior to warrior. "Put it on my tab." The human bartender mumbled and walked over to do as requested. He hadn't the slightest clue who Valery was.

Another pull from his beer. Then, dryly: "You're a long way from your castle, Grandmaster."

His tone wasn't mocking. Just... Mandalorian. Direct. Unafraid. A thread of amusement curled in his voice, tempered by something sharper. His smile came slow, tugging at the corners of his mouth like it had to earn its way there.

"You want to hang where we hang," he added, voice low, "you drink what we drink."

The bartender slid two shots across the bar. Adonis raised his glass, letting it catch the light between them.

"To the living. For now."

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery didn't sit right away. She just stood there for a beat, boots planted firm, eyes leveled on him with that slow, almost predatory smirk — the kind that said yes, she noticed the stare. Yes, she knew exactly what it meant. And no, she wasn't bothered in the slightest.

If anything, she looked a little amused.

"Hot whiskey," she echoed, gaze flicking to the glass and back to him, "Interesting choice. You always try to impress Jedi with fire, or am I just special?" She finally eased onto the stool beside him, the matte black of her suit catching the low light like polished stone. One leg crossed over the other. Elbow resting on the bar. Fingers curled around the offered drink without hesitation. She lifted it slowly, meeting his eyes.

A sign of gratitude.

She drank, eyes never quite leaving his. The heat of it hit hard and clean — Mandalorian style — and her smirk returned, pleased, "Not bad," she admitted, setting the glass down with a satisfying click.

She leaned in, just slightly, enough for her voice to cut beneath the hum of conversation without needing to rise, "So?" she asked, resting her chin lightly on the heel of her hand. "Now you've got me curious."

A flicker of amusement lit her gaze.

"What do I call the man bold enough to buy a Jedi a drink?"

Adonis Angelis IV ​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

He watched her drink, the way her fingers curled around the glass like she meant it, the way her gaze never wavered. Confident. Clean. Dangerous. No hesitation. No flinch. Just like him.

The whiskey burned hot, but that wasn't what had his blood stirring. It was her. That presence. That deliberate calm wrapped around something wild. The cantina faded at the edges, the sound turned to static. For a moment, it felt like the only thing that mattered was the heat sparking between her amber eyes and his.

And then it hit him.

She noticed him.

Not just a glance. Not just some polite nod across the bar. She noticed him- locked eyes, smiled like she knew exactly what kind of thoughts had just run through his head, and smirked like she wasn't mad about it.

Adonis kept his expression calm, but his brain was in full-blown combat mode. This wasn't a drill. He wasn't just across from a beautiful woman, he was across from the Valery Noble. Jedi Grandmaster. Hero of the Alliance. Galactic symbol of composure and power and things he was absolutely not qualified to flirt with. He'd never hit on anyone before. Not seriously. Not like this. What the hell was he even doing?

Abort. Retreat. Fake a war injury. Dive out the window—

No.

He took a breath, grounding himself the way he had learned from the Mandalorians. Pressure wasn't the enemy. It was the forge. Plus, if anyone in here noticed what was going on and he fumbled it they would never let him hear the end of it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

His smirk came slow, curling at the edge of his mouth like heat bleeding through frost. No bravado. Just that steady, unapologetic Mandalorian weight: earned, not performed. He raised his beer in a casual salute and took another sip before letting the silence break.

"Most call me Adonis," he said, voice low and calm, roughened at the edges like stone scraped over durasteel. "The bold is optional."

He leaned in slightly, not to challenge her, but to match her rhythm, a soldier's read on battlefield spacing. Enough to charge the air between them without crowding it. Then he tapped a knuckle to her glass, not loud, just sharp, like a spark snapping off a live wire.

"But if you're drinking with me…" He met her eyes again, steady, even if his pulse was jackhammering in his ears. "You can call me whatever you want."

The moment lingered. A drawn bowstring between two apex predators sizing up the quiet between heartbeats. Then he eased back in his seat, the edge of his smirk curling into something more dangerous- the kind of look that could mean a fight, a flirtation, or both, and that he wasn't afraid of either. Though his emotions were quite the contrary, but somehow he was making it work.

"I figured hot whiskey was fitting," he added, glancing at her drink. "Strong. Dangerous. Hits harder than you expect."

A pause. His grin sharpened, but just at the corners. Subtle. Grounded.

"Same could be said for you."

Holy shit am I actually doing this?

He wasexpecting either a follow up or a slap too the face. He was in way out of his league, but the fact this was his third beer helped quite a bit.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's smirk deepened the second she caught the flicker in his eyes — that split-second flicker of oh hell, did I just say that? hidden under all that carefully measured Mandalorian bravado. He was good. Composed. But he wasn't unreadable.

And Force, was that refreshing.

She let the silence stretch just a heartbeat longer than necessary — just long enough to lean in a touch more, elbow still on the bar, fingers now lazily toying with the rim of her glass.

"Adonis," she repeated, like she was testing the weight of it on her tongue. "Bold and poetic. That's dangerous." Her voice dipped slightly on the last word, playful, but threaded with something smoother "Though I'm still deciding if it suits you." She raised the glass again, mirroring the earlier tap with her own knuckle this time — soft, just between them. A spark for a spark.

"'Call you whatever I want,' huh?" One brow arched, teasing, daring. "That's an open invitation you may come to regret." The smirk was back, but it had shifted. Less mischief, more intent. She wasn't just playing along — she was leaning into it now, curious to see what he'd do if she pushed just a little harder.

"And as for the whiskey…" She sipped again — slower this time, letting the burn curl down her throat — then set the glass down with a soft click. "You're damn right." She let her gaze lift back to his, unwavering. Warm, but sharp. A hunter's patience wrapped in a Jedi's calm.

"Guess that makes two of us."

A pause.

Then — just soft enough to challenge him without scaring him off, "Tell me, Adonis… is charming Jedi in bars a hobby of yours, or am I just your latest brush with danger?"

Adonis Angelis IV ​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

He was spiraling. Not visibly, not in his posture, not in his voice, but deep in the chest, where panic meets thrill and your body can't tell the difference. Her voice had dropped low and smooth, each word riding the rim of that glass like it could cut him open if he wasn't careful. And the way she said his name? Like she was deciding whether to keep it.

Adonis held his ground, kept his smirk tucked where it belonged, played the part of the composed Mandalorian Knight with all the swagger he could muster. But his brain was already twenty steps ahead, screaming about how wildly out of his depth he was. Jedi Grandmaster. War hero. Alliance royalty. And she was flirting with him. And not just flirting- testing him.

She matched his tap. Echoed his words. Hit him with that one raised brow that said prove it. And stars, he wanted to. Not just because she was beautiful, though Maker knew she was, but because she saw through all of it. The armor, the edge, the half-polished confidence. She saw the twitch behind his eyes and didn't flinch.

He could have lied. Could have played the part of the hardened soldier who did this kind of thing every cycle. But she deserved better than that. So he gave her the truth.

"I've never done this before," he said, quieter now, not rattled, just real. He let it hang a moment before the grin crept back in, something warmer this time. "I mean, yeah- I've fought monsters, led charges, survived a horde of the undead on Taris…" He tilted his head slightly, not bragging, just stating fact. "But this?"

His gaze lingered. Not a leer, not a scan. Just honest. Grounded. That rare kind of look saved for people who made the world tilt.

"This is probably the most dangerous thing I've ever done."

He leaned in again, precise and deliberate, closing the distance between them just enough to clink his glass against hers — and in the process, bumped his elbow against the edge of the bar. Not hard, but just loud enough to draw a glance from one of the other patrons. His glass wobbled. He caught it with reflexes that came from muscle memory, rolled the gesture straight into the movement like it had been intentional.

Smooth. Real smooth.

"But I've always been good under fire," he said, recovering easily, voice steady despite the way the tips of his ears had warmed just a little.

A breath passed.

"And I don't scare easy."

He held her gaze as the tension wrapped tight again, just in time for Samir to return. The bartender cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes now wide with realization as they flicked to Valery. "Er… Grandmaster. Anything else I can get you?"

Adonis didn't look away. But inside?

Holy hells, I'm actually pulling this off.

She was still smiling. Still here. Still playing. Either he was getting it right… or she was letting him think he was.

Either way, he wasn't about to blink first.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery didn't look at the bartender.

She didn't need to.

Her gaze stayed locked on Adonis — steady, molten, laced with amusement and something just a little more dangerous now. The kind of look that wrapped around you slow and warm, and dared you to come closer. Her smile curled, lazy and sharp, as if his little elbow mishap had sealed something rather than cracked it.

"I'm good," she said softly to the bartender, still not looking away. "Thanks."

Her hand lifted — slow, effortless — and dragged through her tousled hair, pushing it back from her face in one smooth motion. A few strands clung stubbornly to her temple, and she let them. Let the moment breathe.

"You say this is the most dangerous thing you've ever done," she murmured, voice just above a whisper now, meant for no one but him. "And yet here you are. Still breathing. Still smiling." A pause. Her head tilted slightly, studying him now like a puzzle she fully intended to take apart — piece by piece, and not with her lightsaber.

"I like that," she added, fingers trailing down to her glass again. "Most people flinch when the heat turns up." Her eyes dipped to his hand briefly — just enough to suggest she'd noticed the tension there, the catch, the recovery. Then back to his face. Still smiling. Still here.

"Tell you what, Adonis…" She leaned in, a fraction closer now. No contact. Just proximity. Just the hum in the air between them. "If you're really as good under fire as you claim… maybe I'll let you prove it." Then she sat back, slow and smooth, crossing one leg over the other and raising her glass once more in a silent toast — not just to danger, but to him.

To the fact that she was still here.

And that the game had only just begun.

Adonis Angelis IV ​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

He didn't move at first. Didn't breathe, either. Not until her voice threaded through the space between them again, smooth, soft, dangerous in the way smoke is beautiful right before it chokes you. Her gaze hadn't wavered. Not once. And that smile? It curved slow and sharp like she already knew how this would end, like his little stumble hadn't broken the moment. It had sealed it.

Her hand swept through her hair in one effortless motion, and for a second he just watched. The kind of motion meant to be natural, casual, but wrapped so tight in intention that it made his mouth feel a little too dry. A few strands clung to her temple and she let them, like imperfection was part of the seduction.

Still breathing. Still smiling.

He was. Barely.

Adonis laughed, short and quiet, almost soundless, and looked down at his glass. Half-full. Not good enough. He raised a hand before the bartender left, trying to act smooth but moving just a little too quickly. Samir jumped to it.

"Two more," Adonis said without looking at him. "Hot."

Then, half to himself, half to her, he added, "You're on Mandalore, remember? We do things a little different here."

It came out cool. Offhand. But his throat was still tight, and deep down, he knew exactly what he was doing. Buying time. Buying courage. He didn't need another drink. He wanted it. Because this wasn't some pretty girl at a bar. This was the Jedi Grandmaster. And she wasn't just holding her own-she was flirting like a professional, dragging him deeper with every breath and not letting him look away.

Still smiling. Still here. Force, she made it hard.

His hand twitched against the counter. Just a little. Enough to feel the nerves pushing in from the edges. But when he looked back at her, really looked, the fear didn't win. It curled in on itself. Tightened. Hardened.

She leaned in, closer this time, her voice all quiet challenge and implied intent.

Maybe I'll let you prove it.

That did it.

Adonis turned fully toward her, elbow on the bar now, drink forgotten for the moment. The smirk he wore wasn't for show anymore. It was real, laced with adrenaline, spiked with something sharp and raw.

"I don't bluff, Valery."

Her name tasted good on his tongue. Solid and reverent, like it meant something to say it that way. His voice dipped a little lower, steady now. Grounded in everything he hadn't said yet.

"You want proof?"

He leaned in again, just enough to feel her presence, to match the line she'd drawn in the air between them. No contact. Just pressure. Just heat.

"Say the word."

Then he pulled back, letting the tension stretch between them like a taut cord. The drinks arrived with a clink and a small nod from Samir. Adonis didn't look away. He raised his new glass, slow and certain, and matched her earlier toast with one of his own. Wordless, but full of meaning.

Still breathing. Still smiling.

And now?

He wasn't just enduring the fire. He was learning to like the burn.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's eyes didn't flicker away. Not when he turned toward her, not when her name rolled off his tongue like a vow, and definitely not when he leaned in with that low, smoldering confidence. She felt the heat of it — the gravity — settle between them like a live wire, and Maker, he was holding his own now. The nerves were still there, she could see them, but they weren't running the show anymore. He was.

And that was hot.

Her smirk curved into something slower now — less teasing, more dangerous. The look of a predator who'd just watched her prey stop running.

"No bluffing," she echoed, almost thoughtfully. She let the words hang in the air as she took the new glass between her fingers, letting the warmth seep into her skin again. Her gaze dropped just briefly to the drink, then lifted back up, sharp and daring.

"Alright, Adonis." Her voice was smoother now, heat curling at the edges of each syllable. "I bite."

Then, without breaking eye contact, she tipped the glass back and downed it in one smooth, practiced motion. The burn lit her throat, but she didn't so much as flinch. Just let the glass click back onto the counter with a sharp, clean sound.

She leaned in again — that same close, deliberate distance — the glint in her eyes playful and electric.

Adonis Angelis IV ​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

He should've backed down. Maker knew, he should have. She was married. He'd seen the records, heard the stories- hell, everyone had. Valery Noble. The Jedi Grandmaster. The Sword of the Jedi. She was off-limits, no questions asked. There were lines a man didn't cross, no matter how hot the room got.

But then she leaned in. Said I bite, and meant it. Called his bluff with a look that could bend durasteel and threw the match straight onto the powder keg between them. And suddenly that line? It blurred. Warped in the heat. Because she wasn't stopping. She wasn't flinching. She wasn't pulling rank or pulling back. She was still here. Still looking at him like he was something worth tasting. And she was so fucking hot it made his conscience feel like it was trying to scream through a locked blast door.

He should have backed down.

He didn't.

He watched her drink, that slow, clean motion, the practiced tilt of her throat, the lack of even the slightest wince. She drank like a soldier. Like a queen. Like someone who didn't ask for permission and never said please. And when she leaned in again, close enough for him to feel her breath and the heat that came with it, she didn't tease.

Prove it.

His heart slammed so hard against his chest it might as well have been a boarding charge. His fingers curled around his glass just to keep them from trembling. His knee bounced once under the bar. And yeah- his body responded, because of course it did. He could barely think. His pulse was riotous, his breath tight, and-

Great. Now I've gotta stand up eventually.

For a second, a sliver of reason surfaced- the faint awareness that someone in the bar might be watching. That if he moved too slow, too obvious, someone would see. But even if they did, no one would believe it. No one in their right mind would believe Adonis was kissing the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

Which made it easier.

He set the glass down carefully, turned to face her completely, and locked eyes with something deeper than a smirk. The heat hadn't gone anywhere, but it was focused now. Steady. Controlled.

"If I step into this," he said, voice low and even, "I'm not doing it halfway."

Then he kissed her.

Not soft. Not rough. Just real. A soldier's kiss: warm, sure, deliberate. His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing along her jaw, his mouth moving against hers with heat that had waited far too long to be asked twice. The bar didn't matter. The title didn't matter. Only the spark between them, finally allowed to catch fire.

When he pulled back, it wasn't with hesitation. It was with intent. His forehead lingered near hers for just a breath, and his voice followed close, low and quiet, thick with adrenaline.

"I've got a room. Rented it for shore leave. No pressure, no assumptions."

He pulled back just enough to see her again, expression grounded, but open. His fingers ghosted across hers one more time, not grabbing, just offering.

"But if you want…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes said everything.

He wasn't going to waste the moment.

And if she came with him? He'd burn for it. Gladly.

Valery Noble