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fan_flashworks2020-10-10 08:15 pm
schoolsasaint) wrote in fan_flashworks2020-10-10 08:15 pm
Entry tags:
Star Wars: Fanfic: lips to helm
Title: lips to helm
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: Teen & Up
Pairing: Obi-wan Kenobi/Jango Fett
Length: 302
Summary: Only the strongest can bend beskar.
"Not often I see a knight in cloth."
Obi-wan lifts his glass to hide his twitching lips, head unmoved in the talkative stranger's direction. There's no need to appear skittish. Not in this watering-hole. Quite the opposite in fact, if his assigned mission is to succeed.
"I assure you, I will come to no harm from it."
A pneumatic hiss, and a helmet comes to rest on surface of the bar. Distinctly mandalorian in appearance, and quite strikingly coloured, its sheen in the lantern light reminds him of nothing more than the act of keeping his saber oiled. Obi-wan smiles into his drink. Just what he had been hoping to see.
"Who said anything about harm?" The voice is a drawl, amused and - if Obi-wan has any ear at all - flirtatious. Feeling the moment shifting - the present is as sand, padawan, and you are not the sand nor the hand but the light reflecting from each tumbling grain - he turns and trails a glance across features. The mando'ad has a strong jawline, and warm, tanned skin despite the typical armor. It's a face characteristic of the isles so recently invaded by the kamoniise.
Obi-wan allows himself a slow smirk. One small conversational shift, and he is far more in his element now than if he'd had to negotiate a bar brawl into an amicable introduction. "Oh, I could show a fine warrior like you a thing or two."
Glass of whiskey to hand, he relaxes back into the wood. Beverage is a surprisingly good find for such an environs. He would so hate to have it spilled.
He sees the flash of competitiveness that the taunt, even such an understated one, ignites in dark eyes, and hums appreciatively into the smooth burn of his next sip. This is going to be fun.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: Teen & Up
Pairing: Obi-wan Kenobi/Jango Fett
Length: 302
Summary: Only the strongest can bend beskar.
"Not often I see a knight in cloth."
Obi-wan lifts his glass to hide his twitching lips, head unmoved in the talkative stranger's direction. There's no need to appear skittish. Not in this watering-hole. Quite the opposite in fact, if his assigned mission is to succeed.
"I assure you, I will come to no harm from it."
A pneumatic hiss, and a helmet comes to rest on surface of the bar. Distinctly mandalorian in appearance, and quite strikingly coloured, its sheen in the lantern light reminds him of nothing more than the act of keeping his saber oiled. Obi-wan smiles into his drink. Just what he had been hoping to see.
"Who said anything about harm?" The voice is a drawl, amused and - if Obi-wan has any ear at all - flirtatious. Feeling the moment shifting - the present is as sand, padawan, and you are not the sand nor the hand but the light reflecting from each tumbling grain - he turns and trails a glance across features. The mando'ad has a strong jawline, and warm, tanned skin despite the typical armor. It's a face characteristic of the isles so recently invaded by the kamoniise.
Obi-wan allows himself a slow smirk. One small conversational shift, and he is far more in his element now than if he'd had to negotiate a bar brawl into an amicable introduction. "Oh, I could show a fine warrior like you a thing or two."
Glass of whiskey to hand, he relaxes back into the wood. Beverage is a surprisingly good find for such an environs. He would so hate to have it spilled.
He sees the flash of competitiveness that the taunt, even such an understated one, ignites in dark eyes, and hums appreciatively into the smooth burn of his next sip. This is going to be fun.