you've been wounded, your face is all bruised up, your enemy puts a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes to theirs, asking: ''who did this to you?'' when you don't answer, they ask again ''who did this to you?''
- can i get this prompt with our favorite tin can man, din djarin?
STARDUST CHORDS | LIES THAT BIND US
a/n: this has been in my inbox for quite some time, but tonight inspiration struck and finally i was able to figure out what i wanted to do with it. left it with an open kind of ending so there may be a continuation if you want! it's been awhile since i did anything canon din and actually posted it so i hope it sounds like him! thank you for sending in such a good request and for helping with the title as well! enjoy!
summary: hatred is quite a thing to speculate from a man who doesn't know how to yet determine his feelings.
word count: 2.2k+
pairing: din djarin x reader (i don't specify gender)
warnings: not explicit, angst, blood, a knife wound, sprinkling of violence and cussing.
Going to him for this shouldn’t be an option. Not after what you went through to actually get the information when it would have taken him five minutes of walking into a room. People feared him far more than they feared you. That was a clear fact. So, you went alone and made the stupidest choices a person could make when handling situations such as this one.
Find the bounty who had taken off in the streets of Coruscant. Not hard when you think about it, but then came the chase. About halfway in, Mando flew off, claiming he could track them easier if the two of you split up and so you were left wandering the streets. Attempting to search for this person on your own. It’s in one of the bars that you figured out the bounty you were hunting was a part of a line of Empire generals.
The son of someone particularly famous. Which only meant one thing...he had connections. Possibly all over the galaxy. Finding information on him was one small task; finding him was another one entirely and somehow that had been left up to you. So, you continued to search, using every tactic available to you until you managed to find a particular club that still held the Empirical symbol in high regard. It wasn’t the best plan, but it got you somewhere. Not exactly right where you needed to be, only it was a close second, because you were sharing drinks with a former general for the Empire within minutes.
One simple talent you learned while staying alive in the galaxy as a former bounty hunter was that lying got you everywhere as long as you didn’t get caught. Well...tonight happened to be the very night you got caught. On three different accounts. Before you could take your last sip of whatever smooth drink they had bought you, they were leading you outside. A blaster pressed to your waist and a fake smile on their face and eyes teeming with mirth.
“You’d make for a good bounty hunter.”
Their words rang in your mind as you stumbled down the street. It probably wasn’t a good idea to laugh afterwards, but how could they know you had found what probably was the most ridiculous statement hilarious? How could they know that you had been a hunter before? You left the life behind for a reason and yet there you were, shoved back into it without so much as a warning from Mando himself.
Two others had noticed you in the club and decided a blaster to your waist wasn’t enough. No, of course not. You needed to be properly punished for lying to the Empire - which no longer existed - and so you found yourself with a vibroblade sticking out of your side. It wasn’t too bad. One bacta shot and you’d be brand new, but the task of getting to the ship is what nearly killed you.
Oh how you wished you could see Mando’s reaction to finding you bleeding out on the streets of Coruscant. He’d most likely say he was right all along. The person who he reluctantly takes around the galaxy with him all because he owed them, wasn’t strong enough to even make it back. He’d suffered far worse and survived. So why...why couldn’t you?
Gasping for breath you shoved past people, your blood warm and sticky on your palm as you clutched the sizable wound they left you with. Still you had no bounty, barely any information, and knew that if you didn’t make it back in time you wouldn’t have any life left in your body. Why you were so adamant on proving him wrong, you didn’t know. Perhaps it’s because he’s done nothing but chastise you this whole trip.
Or was it more?
You refused to think of the other feelings that were shoved so far down they would need to call to you like a kyber crystal in order to be found again. You couldn’t. Not when this was the last planet you would be on with him. The next was Nevarro - your destination - and from there he’d leave to go find yet another bounty. This agreement only lasted for a short amount of time and you dying hadn’t been in the contract.
That is...if you had one.
The sight of the silver colored rust bucket sent your heart into overdrive as your feet moved faster. You would make it and from there you’d have to start all over again in order to find the bounty. That was a matter for a different time though. Grunting in pain you nearly fell to the ground a few feet away from the ship’s hull, but to your relief the door opened right as he started to step out.
“Mando,” you called in a raspy voice. The breath, completely gone from your lungs as you struggled to even stand upright. You felt your vision begin to blur and knew that you’d be on the ground in seconds, but his gloved hands clutching your arms kept you stable.
He must have seen the red stain soaking into your jacket, because you were being led into the ship and set on a box. The rest was a blur. You couldn’t make out anything more than shapes and a few sounds here and there. He said something to you, that you were sure of, but you didn’t catch in time to hear exactly what it was. Something about being reckless? Yeah...that sounds about right.
“‘M not reckless,” you mumbled, sliding off the box and to the ground where you could lay down fully. “I was finding your fuckin’ bounty.”
Shutting your eyes, you didn’t catch the way he froze at the sight of your now sliced open shirt. The wound was far larger than you actually realized and yet somehow you had made it back. Somehow in the back of your pain induced mind, you knew that there was only one person who could help you. The warmth of someone’s palms against your skin kept you stable as the fire from your wound threatened to pull you under completely.
You could sleep like this. With him tending to your wound, the sounds of the city outside dulled by the metal of his ship. It made for a nice white noise. That is until he decided sleep would not be an option, and spoke.
“I found him already.”
Within seconds your eyes were open and you were shoving him away from you. “What do you mean you found him?”
Fuck the pain. You had spent an entire night on Coruscant, risking your life to help him and all of a sudden the bounty was found. Just like that? Rage was the emotion that took over, dulling the pain drastically, until you were able to sit up and fix him with a glare you hoped he felt through the beskar. It seemed to have worked, because he was plopping himself onto the ground across from you. The slight clang of metal hitting metal sounded far funnier than it should have, but that didn’t do much to lighten the mood.
Even if it was odd to see a large Mandalorian shrink before your very eyes as he realized what exactly you’d been through.
“He was asking for help outside of a club teeming with former Empire soldiers and leaders.”
Everything in your brain clicked within a few milliseconds. Just like that… He’d found the bounty so easily, because you had done his job for him.
“Were you tailing me?” you asked, grabbing the bandage he’d dropped on the floor between the two of you. The modulated sigh told you all that you needed to know. “I thought you said-”
“I watched you go into the club and tried to follow, but then he arrived. Minutes after you.”
Scoffing you dragged yourself upright, still pressing the bandage into your wound, as you tried to get away from him. So, you’d been on the right path the whole night and hours of work had been wasted, because you arrived somewhere too early. Fantastic. You heard him get up to follow you, but stayed quiet due to the steam that was practically coming out of your ears.
How had you gone from being a competent and good bounty hunter, to this? Someone who made so many mistakes in the span of a few hours.
“I can’t believe-” No actually you could believe that he left you there. He didn’t like you after all so what was there to do but collect his credits from a bounty he hadn’t found and leave you on a planet alone? If you were still the heartless person from years ago, you would do the same thing too.
“I wouldn’t have left you here.” The words were mumbled - well as mumbled through a modulator as words could get - and you barely heard them. Yet there they were, hanging in midair as both of you tried to grasp onto a response. He wouldn’t have…
“Why?” you asked, blurting the question out as a twinge of pain began to spread from your side to your leg.
You didn’t receive an answer, but at this point you were used to his silent responses. The way he shifted was enough to tell you that this hadn’t been planned; that maybe he didn’t know you were still inside when he had found the bounty. Except how could that be possible? When he was there...when he saw you enter the building. He wouldn’t have left you there on purpose, because...perhaps the man who refused to show any semblance of emotion actually had grown fond of you.
That made you want to laugh even harder.
There was no possibility in the entire galaxy that he cared even remotely for you. Only then he stepped closer, hand now recovered by his leather glove, coming to rest on yours. Helping to press the bandage down on the wound as he reached behind you to grab something off the crate. You knew it was a bacta kit, and recognized the familiar shot. That’s not what shocked you so much that you could barely move.
It was this. His act of kindness towards you - the tenderness behind his touch.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice teeming with something you couldn’t identify at a time like this. Not when your brain was going haywire from the sheer pain alone, let alone with him and his surprising actions.
“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, glancing down as he pressed the needle into your skin and relieved some of the pain.
He finished, tossing it back into the crate before he was grabbing your chin just as lightly and turning your face to look up at him. To hopefully catch his gaze through the helmet he wore. You must have started hallucinating from the wound, because never did you think you’d get this close to him. Never did you believe that he cared for you this much, and somehow…you still didn’t.
Why would he care about who was the source of your pain? Why would he need to know?
That is until you realized. You almost died in the streets without him knowing about it, and it was then you saw the rage come off of him in waves. The understanding that those people would not be living to see another day, because they had nearly killed someone. Not just someone. They had nearly put an end to the life of someone a Mandalorian cared for.
“Who did this to you?” The question wasn’t a suggestion. You would be spilling your secrets to him by the end of the night and so without any further prompting you opened your mouth and told him everything.
How they had laughed when they watched the blade slice open your skin. How you spent so long fighting to get back to this ship - back to him. His grip on your chin tightened slightly before he was bringing your head closer, pressing his forehead to yours for a quick minute. The cold of the beskar contrasted the warmth that seeped from his glove and you found that you couldn’t get enough of it.
Of the simple gesture he offered you. This was him proving to you that he actually did care.
Ten minutes later you had a silent agreement that you’d remain on the ship to heal while he dealt with business. The people who harmed you - they would not live to see the sun rise, let alone get to harm another innocent person. But you...you would survive. You would live and remain there with him.
Nevarro wouldn’t be your last stop, that much you knew. It was merely the beginning.
I decided to do something a little bit insane. I sat down and typed every word spoken in revenge of the Sith so I could then hand write every word to create this scene redraw. I am very pleased with the final result I’m not gonna lie.
Warnings/Tags: (more to come) explicit content, smut, drug use, dubcon
Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.
Chapter 2
"Commander..."
A gentle, familiar voice wakes you and you blink into the darkness, the softly crackling fire beside you slowly bringing back the memory of where you are.
You sit up, pushing your hair from your face. "What time is it?"
"Time for your watch to begin, I'm afraid," Obi Wan informs you, uncrossing his legs from his meditation position on top of his bed roll and lying down to pull his robe over himself.
You yawn, trying not to fall back to sleep as your eyes drift closed even while sitting. You force yourself to stand and take a few paces. It's only a moment before you hear soft, steady breathing and realize Obi Wan has already gone to sleep, trusting as always that you'll do as instructed.
☆☆☆
You take a drink of water, shaking the bottle and realizing you can only afford a sip if it's going to last you another day or two. Then you take a seat on a fallen tree, positioning yourself to have a good view of the encampment.
As the night continues and you allow your mind to wander, you find your eyes drifting back to Obi Wan's face. His expression is tranquil, yet his jaw is still firm, as if it doesn't quite suit him to relax, even in sleep. You try not to linger there, pulling your gaze over to the fire instead.
Honestly, you can't quite figure out what it was that happened earlier. Seeing your former master disrobe might be a little uncomfortable for anyone, but you can't lie to yourself and pretend it was discomfort you felt.
You'd had certain feelings toward him when he'd first become your master. Of course, it was nothing more than a girlhood crush, although at the point you were made his padawan, you were hardly a young girl anymore. Still, it had been somewhat easy to put aside those feelings as he taught you to do with so many of your emotions, and eventually, you grew out of them, focusing on your relationship as a student to a mentor.
Or at least, until last night, you thought you had. You give a tiny shake of your head and fold your legs, deciding perhaps some meditation would be a better use of your time than reflecting on these thoughts. It isn't unreasonable to have a reaction when seeing someone undress. It's human. The more important thing is not to allow yourself to dwell on such thoughts. Let them pass, as so many others do.
You settle into the stone beneath you, finding your burdens lightening as you allow your thoughts to drift into the ether. Your face relaxes into a peaceful expression, until a single thought disrupts your path and sends electricity through your veins.
His eyes caught you staring, and the way the firelight cast shadows against his perfect skin... all this time, yet another secret he'd been keeping from you. The mark of his past life, his misadventures and impulsive decisions permanently engraved on his shoulder...
Your eyelashes flutter, breath catching slightly. No. No, this is childish. You are both jedi, and you are both adults. You place the walls up in your mind and seat yourself firmly in the presence of the force. You should be keeping watch, and your senses are dulled if you're distracted. You concentrate on your breathing, and soon you're able to let yourself drift into a proper meditative state.
A few hours pass like this, until you feel a droplet of water land on your arm. You squint up into the trees. The leaves above are starting to ripple with tiny impacts. It's raining. You stand up to put on your robes. It's gotten significantly colder throughout the night and the fabric is actually comforting now, rather than oppressive. You pull the hood over your head as the light rain turns into a downpour.
You look over to Obi Wan, still attempting to sleep. His nose scrunches and his eyes squeeze tightly as he reaches up to pull his robe over his face and block the rain. Watching him, you feel a little guilty for getting so much uninterrupted sleep.
Soon, the rain goes from tolerable to torrential, and you sit helplessly as the fire dwindles into a charred, smoking pile of logs. Finally, Obi Wan rises from his bedding, pushing the soaking hair from his eyes. He looks at you and sighs. "I suppose if sleep is out of the question, we may as well get on with it."
He drags the wet robe to the side to allow the pooled water to drain onto the ground, then stands up and shrugs it over his shoulders. The confused scowl he wore when he first awakened is swiftly replaced with his normal, nonplussed visage.
You stretch the soreness from your legs as he packs up his things, then give him a lopsided grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Cheer up, Master. It's only mountain climbing in a typhoon. How hard can it be?"
"Right," he says dryly. "I'm looking forward to seeing your words put into action."
You keep your smile in place as the two of you set off through the jungle again, glad he seemed to gloss over your slip into the old habit of calling him Master. He didn't seem to notice - perhaps a testament to his lack of sleep. Or maybe he did notice, but didn't feel the need to correct you. You're glad either way. It was hard getting used to calling him General like all his other soldiers did.
In the coming hours as morning turns slowly into full daylight, you make good time winding up the steep mountainside. The rain slows you down quite a bit, but in most areas your senses can tell you where to place your next footstep better than sight could, anyway.
You've positioned your water canteens at the tops of your packs, wedging them in with the lid open to catch the rain. When you stop to rest, it's nice to be able to drink your fill without worrying about rationing. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
"How's your shoulder today?" you ask, passing the time until you can catch your breath.
"Nothing a little exercise won't help," he answers, taking a swig from his own bottle.
You know there's no point in asking. His pack has probably been biting into it all day, his movements keeping the wound from healing properly, and he's probably in a decent amount of pain as he sits there, stoic as ever.
"And your head?"
"Much better today, thanks."
like master, like student you think, as you give the automatic response deflecting your own pain.
He points up head on your path, to a small overhang. "If we can make it there by mid day, I believe we could make it to the top by nightfall. Or perhaps close enough to try a signal."
You nod, packing your canteen away. "I'm up for it if you are."
The rain continues to make your path more and more difficult as you gain altitude. The steeper the incline becomes, the more you find your feet slipping out from underneath you. Rocks tumble behind you as the steep hike turns into an all-out climb. You're using both your hands and feet to clamber up the cliff face and toward the overhang when suddenly your hand slips and you slide painfully down the rock face a few feet, sending chunks of debris flying downward.
Obi Wan shouts after you, once you stop sliding. "Are you alright?"
You nod, fingers grasping to keep their grip. "Fine. Just... be careful. Rain is making it slippery."
"I had noticed that, yes."
You ignore him, placing one limb after the other in careful concentration until the two of you finally reach the top. Obi Wan pulls himself up, then offers you a hand, and you gratefully take it. You duck underneath the overhang, out of the rain for the first time in too many hours.
Panting, you collapse into a seated position on the ground and lean your back against the cold rock wall. Beside you, Obi Wan pulls down the hood of his robe and lets his head fall backward, closing his eyes. You're both soaked to the bone, and every muscle in your body aches. You stay like that for a long while, not speaking, just listening to the rain and waiting for your heart rate to slow down.
Just as you're about to break the silence, you glance to the side and see a flash of soaking, matted fur racing toward you. The sound of skittering rocks announces the creature as it lunges toward you out of nowhere, jaws snapping.
It's all you can do to get an arm up in time to save your face from being crushed in its slobbering jowls. Your pulse skyrockets and adrenaline floods your system as you roll your body away from the beast's attack. You recognize a cropped ear, lined with burnt fur.
"It's the same one!" you shout to no one in particular.
Next to you, Obi Wan's lightsaber bursts to life. "Apparently it wasn't finished with us."
He swings it hard, but the creature manages to dodge his blow. When he does connect, it's with a ridge on the animal's back. He cuts deeply and is met with a piercing shriek. The creature turns on him, no longer concerned with you.
You leap to your feet, pulling your own lightsaber and taking a defensive stance, waiting for Obi Wan to draw the creature's attention further. It certainly needs no encouragement. It rears up on its powerful back legs and swipes razor sharp claws toward his face. Another bellow rings out, echoing down the mountainside. He's cut off one of its arms.
You come in for the kill, sweeping around the monster's flailing tail and trying to find an opening when suddenly it whirls on you, spitting a viscous fluid in your direction. You step to the side and the liquid hits the ground, burning a fair size hole.
"Acid!" you yelp, pulling your gaze from the steaming hole to meet Obi Wan's eyes.
He takes your warning and attempts to put some distance between himself and the animal, raising his saber in a blocking stance.
The animal stumbles on its three remaining legs to face him again and makes a low, rumbling noise. You rush forward, slicing at its throat, but it turns swiftly again, knocking you to the ground with its good forearm. You skid across the narrow, slippery rock face and over the side of the cliff, dangling precariously.
Obi Wan can't see you from his vantage point on the other side of the creature, but when the creature's head turns to follow you, he catches sight of what's happened. You try to pull yourself up, but the rocks are crumbling beneath your hands. Obi Wan slides beneath the creature's huge head to grab your hand before you fall.
As you reach up to take it, a pool of acidic bile lands next to you and burns through the rock. You close one eye, leaning your face away from the putrid smell. Obi Wan's hand grasps yours and starts to pull you up, when the creature snarls and leaps toward you both on the edge of the cliff. All at once, the world crumbles around you.
The weight of the beast turns the solid cliff face into shifting rubble, and you, along with Obi Wan, are now falling, ripping, tearing down the side of the mountain, toward the valley below.
Your field of vision is filled with chunks of rock and flying debris. You try to stay mostly upright and use the force to protect yourself, but you're being pummeled from every side. You think you might be yelling, but the noise of the rock slide is so loud you can't hear yourself.
When you finally stop falling and all you can hear are the sounds of pebbles rolling, you manage to pull yourself up and out of the debris, battered, but alive.
Obi Wan, thankfully, emerges few feet away. "Are you alright?"
You look down. You really aren't sure for a moment. Shakily, you stand up and surprisingly, all of your limbs respond to you. "Yeah, I think so."
He helps you steady yourself, and you walk over to a boulder to sit down. You look around for the creature but it's nowhere to be found. Hopefully it was crushed in the landslide.
You sit for a moment, then jump up with a sudden realization. You slide your pack from your shoulders and dig inside. About half of the contents have fallen out, so there isn't too much digging to do before you've found it. The long range communicator. You turn it on, holding your breath, and finally heave a relieved sigh when it lights up.
"Thank the stars," you murmur breathlessly.
Obi Wan nods, also seeming relieved. Then he turns to look out over the new path that lays before you. "We've come down on the other side of the mountain. We'll need to cross the valley to get back up there."
You look up at the sheer cliff face. He's right. There's no way of climbing up without equipment. You'll have to spend at least an extra day crossing this valley to get back to where you were originally. Only this time, you'll be out of food. You look up to Obi Wan's empty shoulders.
"Where's your pack?"
He heaves a sigh. "I took it off to fight."
Both of your gazes travel back up to the overhang where his pack is surely sitting. Perfect. You have one ration bar left and a half canteen of water. The rain is letting up, so you may quickly run out of that, too. You don't say anything in reply, knowing you're both aware of your predicament.
Instead, you force yourself to your feet. "We might as well get moving, then. Things won't get easier after dark, I imagine."
You set off, once again, tired and injured, and nearly hopeless. And as you enter the valley and the deep, dark forest within, you're aware there could be another problem. You don't seem to be alone.
After a few silent paces, Obi Wan glances at you. You knew you felt something, but you were hoping to be wrong. The way he's looking at you, though, confirms your fears.
"What do you think it is? More of the local fauna?" you ask, keeping your voice low.
He shakes his head. "I don't think so, no."
As you continue on, you see faint lights in the distance, between the trees. You slow your pace, looking over both shoulders as you walk closer to whatever it is that lives here.
When you enter a clearing, several creatures emerge from the trees and surround you. Your hand twitches at your side, going instinctually for your lightsaber, but you manage to catch yourself. You don't want to appear threatening.
The beings stand around you on all sides. They're bipedal, about human height or slightly larger, with skin that has a slug-like texture and round, gaping mouths that protrude from their faces. Their eyes are large and dark.
Obi Wan spreads his arms diplomatically to greet them. His voice is calm, yet authoritative. "I am Master Obi Wan Kenobi. We are jedi. We mean you no harm."
The aliens chatter amongst themselves in another language, then switch to basic. "We are the Torthix. You have come to our home. What do you seek?"
Obi Wan answers, keeping his face neutral. "We are here by chance, an accident. We seek only safe passage to the other side of the valley."
"You will not be able to pass through the valley without crossing the bridge of Conscia, and we are its keepers. You may not pass through our city. Go back the way you came."
"We can not go that way," you interject. "Our path was destroyed. We mean you no disrespect, but we must pass through."
"We can not allow this. You will stay here."
Obi Wan gives you a look, silently inquiring whether you can use the force to influence them into letting you go. You give him a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not with this large a crowd, not when their full focus is on you, and not when they're this hostile.
He takes your answer, then lowers his head in a slight bow of respect. "My friends, surely there is another way. We are in desperate need of aid. We have no provisions and nowhere else to turn. The Jedi pride themselves in helping others. We would only ask that you do the same."
The largest Torthix, apparently their leader, steps forward. "We live here in secret. We can not allow you to cross our boarders and risk you telling our enemies of our location. You will dine with us tonight, and partake in our ceremony. We will see if you are a friend of the Torthix."
Obi Wan bows deeper and you mirror him. "Thank you. I give you my word, we will not betray your trust."
The Torthix leader gives you both what seems to be an apprehensive look. "We shall see."
You follow the group deeper into the forest until you reach a small city. The architecture is earthy and quaint, and you're surrounded in every direction with beautiful glowing orbs.
You lean in to whisper to Obi Wan. "At least we might get a meal out of this arrangement."
"I certainly hope so. I'm not sure what's in store for us here, but I have a... strange feeling. Be cautious."
You're not certain what he means by this, but you trust his instincts and remain vigilant as you descend deeper into the city and enter what appears to be a banquet hall.
You're escorted into a separate part of the building at first, to bathe yourselves and change your clothing. You both clean up, although you're able to change into the one semi-clean set of clothing you have, and Obi Wan is left in his tunic. The Torthix dry it for him, at least, in a heater. Feeling refreshed, you enter the main dining hall again.
There are dozens of chairs arranged down the length of a huge table. You take your seats across from the Torthix leader and food and drinks are set in front of you.
"We will honor our guests this evening. Please, eat and drink your fill."
You look down at the food and suppress a grimace. Even as hungry as you are, it's difficult to stomach. Your jedi training allows you to keep a gracious smile plastered on your face as you take a mouthful.
"Tell me, outsiders, what has brought you here? Why do you visit our moon?"
"An accident," you answer. "We crashed here and we're trying to get back to our people. You wouldn't happen to have a means of communicating with the planet surface, would you?"
"We have no need to communicate outside our own people," the leader responds, almost appearing insulted by the implication that they might.
"Of course," Obi Wan interjects, nodding slightly. "We understand. But we need to get to higher ground to send a signal to our people. The sooner we can do that, the sooner we can leave."
"We will see," the leader retorts dismissively. "You will stay with us for the night, so that we may learn your true intentions. We will let you on your way only when you have proven that you mean us no harm."
"And how can we do that?"
The leader ignores Obi Wan's question and addresses the crowd. He shouts again for everyone to eat and drink, and enjoy themselves before the ceremony begins.
You send a nervous glance toward Obi Wan, who gives you a reserved look in return. As reserved as it is, you're able to read the same uncertainty in his eyes that you're feeling.
You finish your meals and are instructed to follow the crowd as they enter another, deeper chamber, this one lit dimly with twinkling lights. There are seating pods all across the floor, facing what appears to be a main throne where the leader is seating himself. The Torthix are filing off into pairs, each pair filling a pod. You follow the leader up to his throne to await your next instructions.
The leader's voice booms throughout the chamber as he shifts back into the Torthix's native tongue, evidently giving a speech.
You lean toward Obi Wan while the leader is distracted. "This feels...ominous. What if this is all a trap of some sort? What if it's a feeding ceremony and they try to eat us?"
He lifts his eyebrows. "I'm open to any suggestions you might have. At the moment, we need them. If it is a trap, it appears we must walk into it."
The leader switches languages, calling you forward. You present yourselves in front of him, and he gestures into the crowd. While you had been talking, the Torthix ceremony had apparently started. They've attached their sucker-like mouths to one another and all of them have closed their eyes, seeming to be in a trance-like state. The vibrations of their mouths are filling the chamber with a strange humming noise. You feel a bit sick.
"All must partake in the ceremony. If you are friends of the Torthix, you will take a mate."
Your eyes shoot open as you look to the side, realizing there are several Torthix on standby, near the throne, clearly awaiting their turn. You shake your head. "Uh..."
Obi Wan speaks over your stammering, attempting to keep you from offending your host. "We thank you for your kind offer, but we do not mate in this way. Our mating requires a different act."
The leader laughs. "So does ours. This is only the beginning of the ceremony. We exchange amino acids before the final act."
"Ah," is all Obi Wan manages in return.
The leader waves for a few of the Torthix to step closer to you. "You will choose a mate and complete the ceremony. We offer you a fine selection. Take your pick."
A male (you guess) Torthix takes another step closer and widens his gaping mouth at you, and when you don't react out of politeness, he seems to take it as an invitation. He attempts to connect his mouth to your face, at which point Obi Wan's hand rests against his chest and pushes him gently backward.
"Great Torthix leader, we can not partake in these events. I am truly sorry. But our religion prevents it."
"We do not recognize your religion here."
You bite your lip, options running thin. You try not to look to your left, the Torthix male still leaking... something... from his mouth. "There must be some other way for us to prove our friendship to you."
"Why do you refuse to respect our traditions?"
You try not to let a comment slip about his disrespect of your beliefs. "Because... because..."
"We are promised to one another," Obi Wan informs him calmly.
Understanding seems to dawn on the Torthix leader at last. "You are a bonded pair?"
"Yes," you say quickly, Obi Wan nodding behind you. "You would not ask us to break our vows?"
The leader's round mouth turns upward in what might pass for a smile. "Of course we would not. Please, proceed. You may partake with one another."
"We are forbidden to display our bond in front of others," Obi Wan insists. "We ask that you-"
"Enough," the leader cuts him off. "Enough of your excuses, enough of your lies. You will take part in the ceremony if you have nothing to hide. Or, we can imprison you."
Obi Wan's hand touches your shoulder. "Come along, we don't want to keep our hosts waiting."
You follow him to one of the pods, your whole body numb. What does this mean? What could possibly be done at this point? Does he actually mean to go through with this?
You take your seat next to him in the pod. It's a low bench, surrounded on three sides by round walls. There's quite a bit of privacy, at least, but the leader can still see you from his vantage point.
"What is the plan?" you whisper, the sound coming out slightly more frantic than you would have preferred.
"The plan... is to avoid imprisonment for as long as possible."
You meet his eyes, shocked that he would go along with this. "Even if it means..."
"Of course not," he interrupts you quickly. "We need not do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But we've bought some time."
You glance uneasily at the leader, who is clearly watching you. "Not much time."
Obi Wan's mouth turns downward. "Is there any possibility you can use a mind trick to distract him?"
You shake your head. "I can make a suggestion, but I can't outright force someone to ignore the truth if it's right in front of them. He's angry, and he's given us direct instructions."
"Then we have little choice," Obi Wan looks down, accepting the situation. "We can... do this... or we can fight. Which would you prefer?"
You stare at him. "Why is it my decision?"
"I would rather not take innocent lives if it can be helped. A kiss wouldn't bother me. But I will not force myself on you."
You blink, taking in his words. "It wouldn't... bother you?"
A small smile tugs at his lips. "It wouldn't be the first time. I've completed my share of diplomatic missions. A handshake, a kiss, a touch, sometimes can be a part of it."
"...a touch?"
"Of tentacles, yes. A hand to tentacle touch can be quite intimate in some cultures."
You don't quite know if he's joking. You shake your head, then catch sight of the leader standing up from his throne, his face displeased. It appears you don't have much time left to make your decision.
"I... I can kiss you. I don't mind."
It wouldn't be the first time you'd bent the rules of intimacy for a mission. At times, it was necessary. This was one of those times.
At least, that's what you tell yourself as you look at your former master's handsome face. Necessary. It's necessary.
You've moved closer on the bench without realizing it, and you lean in. "Just tell me if you change your mind."
Obi Wan's eyes lock with yours and all at once the room is only the two of you. His lips part, his gaze falling to your mouth. He pulls his eyes back up. "I am willing, as long as you are."
Your eyes close as you press your lips gently at the curve of his mouth, tentatively, not sure how much contact is appropriate. But the instant the connection is made, all semblance of professionalism is torn from your mind and replaced with only the sensation of his mouth against yours, and how to get more of it.
His taste, his scent surround you. You feel like you're floating, all your focus pinpointed on the softness of his mouth, the quiet breath that he pulls through his nose, the way his jaw tilts downward, opening up for you.
It takes every ounce of effort you possess to stop yourself from dragging your tongue across his bottom lip. This is a show. This is all an act.
But it doesn't feel that way when his hand comes up to cradle your face in his palm. The way he moves his mouth, your body melts for him, sinking into his touch, craving anything he'll give you.
Time seems to fade away as you allow yourself this moment of bliss, but suddenly, and all too soon, it's over.
The leader makes another loud announcement which is indecipherable to you, but the rest of the Torthix stand and start to trail out of the chamber, two-by-two.
You break apart, and you desperately try to stop yourself from shuddering at the loss of contact. You sit upright, swallowing and feigning indifference. "Well, that was quick, at least."
"Yes," Obi Wan says, his blue eyes fixated on you. He doesn't seem concerned with pretending to be unaffected. He seems slightly disoriented, but at least he seems himself.
You, on the other hand, feel like an entirely different person. And you're not sure you like it.
When you try to stand, you have to grip the bench for a moment. You pretend it's because it's hard to see in the dark, and not because your legs are suddenly unsteady beneath you. You follow the Torthix down the aisle and out of the building, down a narrow path lit with more of the glowing orbs. The ethereal light seems to fill the entire valley.
As the path darkens, Torthix start to pair off. You can't see exactly where they're going. Finally, you reach a large tree with a pod cut into it horizontally. It's similar in size to a regulation bunk bed on a republic cruiser. Not exactly spacious. The Torthix leader stops you there.
"You will complete the ceremony here."
Your whole body freezes. Now would have been the time to enact a plan which you might have formulated rather than concentrating on playing kissing games.
Warnings/Tags: (None in the first chapter, but more to come) explicit content, drug use, dubcon, character deaths, slow burn
Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.
--
A second explosion rocks the port side of the ship, and you can barely hear your own muffled voice over the ringing in your ears.
"They've disabled our hyperdrive."
General Kenobi's face is grim. "Not good."
Your legs are struggling to keep you upright as you stumble against the bucking of the dying ship.
"Any suggestions, Commander?" he asks, a note of detachment in his voice that you wish you could mirror while plummeting to certain death.
☆☆☆
"Now would be the time to share any skills you've acquired on your solo missions."
You bite back a sarcastic comment about espionage missions rarely ending in dogfights. "Sir, if you're able to clear the atmosphere, we might still lose them in the asteroid field. If you can keep us from getting shot down for the next few minutes, I think I can manage the changes needed in the power converters to get the hyperdrive back online."
He considers this, then nods. "Fine. Do it. Divert as much power as you can without shorting the main systems."
He takes his place back at the helm and you slide a few feet to the back of the ship, dropping to the floor and immediately getting to work on the wiring. Another glancing blow hits the ship, and the tool you've grabbed skitters across the floor.
"I would love to recommend that you stay low until you reach the city limits, in case they have any qualms about shooting their own people and decide to use less firepower... but you're in command of this mission and I don't give the orders," you say, as if talking to yourself.
You snatch the tool back up and send a quick look to the captain's chair where Obi Wan is giving you a mildly unimpressed look. But he adjusts his controls, lowering the trajectory.
Too late. Another blast, and the ship is now shaking violently.
"All main engines are down on the port side." You flip through diagnostic screens, reading them aloud as Obi Wan struggles to keep the controls steady. "Remaining engines operating at only sixty percent. No, fourty... we're not going to make it."
All hope drains from your face while Obi Wan pulls up a map on the main console, adjusting coordinates. "Even if we manage to survive, our location has been compromised and our cover blown. I see only one option at the moment."
He zooms in, highlighting a nearby moon, Keoth. "We can try for a landing, and hope they believe we've died in the crash."
You take yet another hit, and this time you're knocked to the floor. You give a desperate smile. "They certainly aren't giving us many other options."
You stand back up and manage to strap yourself into the copilot's seat just in time for the power to begin failing. The ship begins its death spiral toward the moon below, its surface filling the viewport much too quickly for your stomach to handle. You give yourself over to the force, your master's piloting, and whatever luck has brought you this far.
Wordlessly, you plummet to the ground, reminding yourself not to give in to fear as the belly of the ship scrapes first against the trees, then against the rocky terrain. When the skidding finally stops and you haven't burst into a fireball, you silently thank the force as both of you remain in your seats for a moment, catching your breath.
"Let's hope the Black Sun didn't see where we went down," you say, finally unstrapping your belt once your legs are steady enough to stand up.
Obi wan stands as well. "I suppose we'll know soon enough."
His comment is enough to silence both of you again, and you listen in anticipation of more blasting. When nothing immediately happens, Obi Wan makes his way to the back of the ship and opens the cargo bay door. It creaks, straining against broken hinges, and slowly reveals the dense jungle outside. You step out, inspecting the damage to the ship. It's catastrophic.
"Black Sun or not, we aren't going anywhere anytime soon. It appears we'll need to send a status report to Coruscant and wait for rescue," he says, heading back into the ship to access the comm panel.
You step forward to follow him and wince, touching your head. Your hand comes away with blood, which must have been trickling down your forehead. He stops on the cargo ramp, placing a hand to the back of your head, steadying you for inspection.
"Hold still."
He turns your head this way and that, and steps back, walking into the ship to get a medpac. He takes one out of storage and makes his way back to you. "I am no medic, but that needs attention."
You wave a hand dismissively. "I'm fine. I must have hit it when I was working on the power converters. I'm more concerned about the ship's condition than a bump on the head."
He ignores your protest and starts to unpack a gauze pad, leaning toward you. Instead of letting him finish, you take the pad from his hand and press it in place, holding it there. You give him an appreciative look, which is enough to end the conversation. He turns his attention back to the comm panel. After a moment, he sighs.
"The normal communications systems are too damaged and the long-range communicator can't get a signal. We're cut off."
You close your eyes, trying to accept this new turn of events and find a way to move forward. You open them again and stare out of the cargo bay for a long time, thinking. Finally, you speak.
"If we can boost the signal of the long range communicator, we might be able to get a message back to one of my contacts on Oba Diah," you point, and his gaze follows your hand to the top of a mountain. "We just need to find higher ground."
"It's a possibility." Obi Wan considers it further, then gives a small shake of his head. "Probably our only possibility at present. We'll need supplies."
The both of you get started packing, eating and drinking as much as possible before leaving the rest of your supplies behind on the ship. With the pressing heat of the jungle, you consider leaving your robes behind, but ultimately pack them for extra bedding.
You shed the rest of your layers and leave on your tunic, arms bare. It doesn't do much to alleviate the pressing heat, but at least the fabric is light. Meanwhile, Obi Wan somehow decides to leave his outfit unchanged, removing only the most outer layer. It seems unbearable, but then, he's always been one of those jedi who choose to wear the most uncomfortable clothing. He told you once it was a constant exercise in learning to ignore the distraction of discomfort. You simply thought of it as unnecessary suffering.
"If I remember correctly, this moon has a 9-hour rotation. Looks like we have about 3 hours of daylight left," you say, pulling your bag over your shoulders.
Obi Wan follows you as you enter the jungle, stepping over vines. "We should make the most of it, then. Be wary. We don't know what kind of wildlife we may find."
"Actually, I've read the wildlife on Keoth is non-aggressive. So long as we don't provoke anything, I imagine we'll be fine."
"You keep your studies sharp, as always."
There's an unfinished lilt to his voice at the end of his sentence, where years ago, the words 'my padawan' may have fit.
When the jedi council had been deciding where to place you as a youngling, you hadn't made the choice easy for them. You didn't have any decipherable talents. At least, not at first. You weren't skilled with a blade, nor with hand-to-hand combat, and you weren't a particularly quick study at meditation. You weren't *bad* at any of those things, just not as adept as your peers. Nothing about you stood out, so finding a master with whom to place you became an ongoing task.
At first, you were sent to spend time at the healing houses. Often if a youngling wasn't predisposed to combat, their healing abilities soon revealed themselves. After months of training, not even the faintest sign of a healing ability made itself known. After that followed new master after new master. You learned from all of them, picked up skills from each of them, but none had been able to bring out your true strength. Your only consistent abilities seemed to lie in making rash decisions and engaging in reckless behavior. And as you neared the age for knighthood, it was becoming more of a liability to the order with each passing day
Thankfully, the council decided to counteract your behavior with a jedi who was the embodiment of forethought and decorum: Master Kenobi. You thought of your new assignment as a punishment at first, being placed with one of the strictest masters in the order, but with time and patience, he had shown you how to connect with the force like no one ever had.
It was through his guidance that you had discovered your unique talent for mind tricks. Most jedi could control one person with a weak will. You, on the other hand... you could control whole rooms of people with nothing but a suggestion. You could influence the minds of those with stronger wills and higher intelligence. You could disappear into a crowd by hopping from one consciousness to another almost effortlessly. It was a very rare gift, and it made you the perfect Republic spy.
It also meant that your tutelage under Master Kenobi was short-lived. Once your exceptional talent was revealed and honed, you were soon urged by the council to take the trials. A part of you always wondered if the need for your specific skillset in the war effort had driven you to take the trials before you were ready. Nevertheless, you passed. You struggled terribly, but you passed. And you were soon inundated with intelligence missions. Many jedi worked in partnership with one another, but on your assignments, a partner was often a liability. Instead, over the years, you formed a network of contacts in some of the seediest places throughout the galaxy. It was crucial work leading to vital information, but it was also isolating.
So, when you were given an assignment on Oba Diah with your former master, it was welcome news. Your mission had been to spread a rumor within the Pyke Syndicate that someone was selling a rare jedi holocron on the black market, in order to draw the attention of Lord Tyranus. When Tyranus arrived on Oba Diah to investigate, an attack would be launched in an effort to capture him. But the jedi council hadn't been aware of how deeply in league with the Black Sun Clan the Pyke had become, and weren't aware of their full numbers, or their access to information. Your deception had been revealed, and as a result, you're now staring up at the peak of a mountain that's miles away, while trudging through hot, sticky jungle air.
You've been walking for hours at this point, hardly able to see in the dimming light, and you ignite your lightsaber for the dual purpose of lighting your way and cutting a few branches out of your path. "It's nearly dark. Maybe we should make camp soon."
Obi Wan nods, although he keeps walking, and you keep following. "You're right. We'll make better time when we can see where we're going."
He finally stops in a small clearing, pulling out his water ration and taking a drink. You pause as well, using your lightsaber to slowly walk around the area and inspect. The trees aren't so dense in this area. Once you clear the brush off ground, it should make a reasonable-
You cut your inspection short, hearing a loud cracking sound in the darkness. You lock eyes with Obi Wan.
"Yes, I sense it as well," he says, lowering his voice. He ignites his lightsaber and you take your automatic positions, backs to one another, as you peer into the darkness of the jungle. Something is out there. You can feel it watching you.
A ravenous snarl suddenly erupts nearby, as a creature twice your size lunges out of the vegetation at Obi Wan. He deftly moves to the side, dodging its enormous claws. The beast's eyes glitter in the green reflection of your saber. Its teeth are so large it can't even seem to entirely close its mouth, drool dripping onto the ground below.
As the beast circles you, searching for a weak point to attack, you look over the matted hair covering its body, its raked-back ears and its short, stunted nose. You don’t recall this species in your study of this planet's moon. It roars and launches itself toward you again, and you slash upward, singeing one of the tufts on its ears. The smell of burnt hair and flesh hangs in the humid air, and the creature howls in pain, scrambling back toward both of you.
Obi Wan force pushes the beast backward, but it uses its legs like a springboard, ricocheting off a tree to snap its jaws at his neck. Again, he dodges, but not quickly enough to avoid its claws, which manage to catch his shoulder. Obi wan returns the stab by driving his lightsaber through the creature's arm, which finally causes it to relent, letting out a screech of pain.
It shuffles backward, then quickly disappears back into the jungle, leaving as suddenly as it had arrived. The two of you remain on alert, panting and glancing around the trees surrounding the clearing, now completely pitch black. After a few moments, it seems the creature has no plan to return, and Obi wan sighs.
"Non-aggressive, I believe, were your exact words?"
You grimace. "Perhaps the archive could use an update on Keoth."
He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrows, turning to say something else, but grits his teeth when he moves his arm. You shine your light toward his shoulder, seeing the blood seeping through his clothing.
"We should clean that," you tell him. Though your voice holds concern, it isn't the first time you've seen him injured. And because you've seen him injured plenty of times before, you're aware he'll ignore his injuries until you start to waste time over it. So you wait, patiently, unmoving.
He pulls his pack down from his shoulders and drops it to the ground. "We only have two medpacs. I'm not certain it's necessary."
He waits for your response, but you don't give him one, so at last, he searches his bag until he finds a medpac. When you see that he appears willing to listen to you in this instance and he begins to open a medpack, you drop your own pack to the ground and busy yourself with starting a fire.
You clear a small area of the ground and cut down some branches. Then you use the heat of your blade to burn some kindling you make by cutting off the bottom fringe of your tunic. Within a few minutes, the fire is crackling and you turn your attention back to Obi Wan, who has prepared the bacta spray and is pulling off his clothing.
He's... you swallow. Your eyes are drawn to his skin as it's revealed, and all at once it occurs to you that you've never seen your master without a shirt on. Even during late nights, you've seen him in his bedclothes, but never... never like this.
He's facing away from you, already having removed his belt and tunic, and he's quickly and unceremoniously pulling his dark brown undershirt over his head, dropping it to the ground. Despite trying to focus on the claw marks, you can't help but stare at his golden skin, the muscles of his back tapering down to his narrow waist. Then, all at once, your eyes fixate on the tattoo that graces his shoulder.
You can feel the synapses in your brain as they short circuit. You don't recognize the symbol, just a black marking of some kind which you've never seen before.
It's at this moment he seems to feel your gaze and turns around, holding the bacta spray. You tear your eyes up from his bare chest to look him in the eyes. He raises his arm, turning to the side. "Is it quite deep? I can't tell."
You blink, trying to steel yourself and focus on the task at hand. The injury doesn't seem serious, just a surface level puncture. You shake your head. "It's not that bad. You've had worse."
You try to force a smile but you imagine it comes off as nervous. Your eyes keep darting up to the tattoo as he displays himself for you.
"You look concerned, Commander. I assure you, I'm fine." He lowers his arm, giving you a strange look.
You stifle a cough, caught staring. "No, I know. I was just surprised."
"Surprised?"
"Yes, your... tattoo. I, uh, didn't know you had one."
A look of understanding passes over his face. "Oh, that. Yes."
He looks a little shy, but still as unreadable as always. "I had it done when I was much younger; a padawan. At the beginning of my time with Master Qui Gon."
You finally manage to regain control of your expression. "I see. I would never have suspected."
He dabs at his wound with a medical pad, then starts to spray it down. "You would probably be disappointed to learn that many jedi choose to mark themselves as a sign of their culture or for other reasons. In that way, I'm not as unique as I would sometimes like to believe."
You shake your head. "I'm aware. I just... wouldn't have expected it from you."
He smiles a little, then winces when he places a gauze pad onto his skin. "It was... a different time in my life."
The fire pops loudly beside you, the noise pulling you out of your trance. You sweep some more underbrush off the ground, throwing it into the nearby bushes while keeping your gaze firmly on your work. When the ground is clear enough, you lay out your bed roll and try to ignore him while he pulls his undershirt back over his body.
When your breathing finally returns to normal, you're able to turn your thoughts to something safe, like food. You pull a supply bar out of your bag, break it in half, and hand the other half to Obi Wan.
"Thank you," he says. Then he stares at you for a moment. His eyes narrow and he takes a step to close the distance between you, reaching his free hand out to nearly touch the side of your face.
Your breathing becomes shallow again. "General...?"
"You might do well with some of this spray, yourself. Your head isn't looking much better after all this walking."
You realize he's staring at your injury and your shoulders relax a little. "Oh. Yeah, thanks."
You take the spray as he offers it, then change the dressing as well. When you've finished, you climb, exhausted, for many reasons, into your makeshift bed and close your eyes.
You feel Obi Wan settling into his bed roll beside you. "I will take first watch. Rest well. It seems this journey may be more difficult than we had anticipated."
You stare up at the leaves above your head. Yes, you think. Yes, it may.
Kyber are rare crystals that grow naturally in various planets. They're usually known for its properties in connection with the Force. They're used to forge lightsabers, forming a bond with Jedi or Sith, aligning their colors to wield connection.
Pairing: Obi-Wan x Reader
Genre & themes (for the series): Padawan Obi-Wan, noncanon, fluff, soft!obi-wan, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, Obi-Wan as Ben (later), angst
Warnings: mdni, 18+ for eventual smut in future parts of the story
Word count: 3.6k
Links: Preview | Masterlist
Author's note: This chapter hasn't been proofread, I only wrote and edited as I usually do. Although for this one I tried not to overthink otherwise it'd be even longer. This goes to everyone whom, like me, needs some Obi-Wan in their lives.
Summary: In the quiet spaces of the Temple, you and a disciplined young Obi-Wan Kenobi find a forbidden sanctuary in each other. What begins as a quiet friendship under the strict eyes of the Order slowly becomes an enduring, sacred bond.
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was a mountain of polished stone and cold, sterile light, designed to elevate the mind far above the chaotic, neon sprawl of the city below.
Yet, for all its grand halls and soaring spires, you always found its truest beauty in the quiet spaces. The narrow corridors leading to the secondary archives, the high balconies overlooking the southern hangars, and the glass-domed solariums where the air was always warm and smelled of damp earth.
As an apprentice of the Consular division, a ward of the archives your days were spent in the dim, blue-glowing labyrinths of historical texts. At eighteen, you had no Padawan braid, no master guiding your every footstep and you thanked the Maker for that.
You've always appreciated the quiet freedom your position allowed and detachment you're granted when the day is done. You saw the Jedi apprentices spending endless hours cross-legged on meditation mats, desperately trying to quiet their minds and purge themselves of turbulent feelings, and that was something you didn't have the time or the need for.
Your focus was grounded, practical, and busy. You had work to do, ancient texts to translate, corrupted holofiles to clean - and those usually where a pain in the ass -, and star-charts to organize which where always so much fun to go through.
Truth be told, you're quite critical of the Jedi, sure you appreciated the Order, but the more you worked near them the more you saw yourself rolling your dismissing their grand discourse as practiced afterthoughts. It was something to do with the way they'd march through the corridors with a warrior's stiff pride even before they had any right to.
And though you appreciated the names that has proven themselves worthy of such pride you've noticed they mostly held themselves more humbly than their Padawans who walked around with puffed out chests and nose scrapping the ceiling in their self-righteousness. They were your personal nightmare, you've witnessed how blind to nuances they could be... in your opinion. Of course.
And those were opinions you kept to yourself... mostly. In fact, that was your exact opinion the moment you met Obi-Wan.
It was a rainy afternoon in the East Wing of the Archives. You were standing on a squeaking repulsor-lift platform, stretching to adjust a high shelf of historical texts on the Mandalorian crusades. Below the aisle was empty, save for a single figure who had been lingering near the index terminals for the past twenty minutes.
He was eighteen, much like yourself, wearing the rough-spun, cream-colored tunics of a Padawan, the single braided cord of his hair draped over his right shoulder. By all accounts, he was a model apprentice.
He kept his boots polished, his lightsaber meticulously cleaned, and his posture rigidly straight. But you had noticed the way his fingers constantly twitched toward his belt, a nervous habit he tried to mask, a quiet restlessness that cracked his otherwise perfect facade.
It's not that you were observing him, but you did notice there was a demeanor in him that deviated from the usual attitude you usually saw in Padawans and that you'd go so far at times to call it snob-ish.
Obi-Wan stood with both feet planted on the ground, yes, but not with the self-importance of his peers. And, really, you're looking at him, but you find yourself looking a moment too long.
Suddenly, the repulsor-lift gave a sharp, metallic shudder. The platform tilted dangerously. You quickly shifted your weight fluidly to keep your balance. A heavy datapad slipped from your hand, tumbling toward the floor. A sharp gasp stole the air from your lungs, your eyes hot wide in panic, but before it could hit the stone floor, the datapad froze in mid-air.
You looked down. Obi-Wan stood with his right hand raised, fingers slightly curled, holding the heavy device in a steady, invisible telekinetic grip. His blue-gray eyes met yours, intense, solemn, and startlingly clear.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the low, electric hum of the archives and the distant drum of Coruscant rain against the high windows.
Slowly, Obi-Wan lowered his hand, guiding the datapad gently onto a nearby desk. He cleared his throat, his posture stiffening back into a perfect, formal stance as if he hadn't just saved your work from shattering.
"You should have the maintenance droids recalibrate the lift's stabilizers," he said. His voice was polished, formal, carrying the precise, clipped cadence of Temple training. "It's a hazard."
You lowered the platform, stepping off onto the solid floor. Your soft-soiled boots made no sound against the stone. You picked up the datapad, checking the screen before looking back up at him. "The droids have more important things to do than listen to my lift complain, Padawan Kenobi. But thank you for the save."
He blinked, a slight, almost imperceptible flicker of surprise crossing his face at the sound of his name. "You know who I am?"
"Everyone knows the apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn," you said, a soft, teasing pull at the corner of your mouth. "He's rather hard to miss. And you're always tucked away in the philosophy alcoves, looking like you're trying to memorize the entire Jedi Code by sheer force of will."
A faint, barely visible wash of color touched his cheeks. He adjusted the leather cuff on his wrist, that nervous twitch again, looking down for a brief second before locking his gaze back onto yours. "A Jedi must hold the Code in their heart. It is the only way to quiet the mind."
"Is your mind very loud, then?" you asked quietly.
The question caught him off guard. His jaw tightened, the polite, defensive walls of his training sliding instantly back into place. "My mind is as clear as my Master requires it to be."
Ah. There it is, you thought, and a smirk pulled your lips ever so subtly on one side. You could tell you had pushed too far, hitting a raw nerve he wasn't prepared to show to a stranger. "I didn't mean any offense."
Obi-Wan stared at you, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher an ancient, forgotten text without a translation key.
"No offense taken," he murmured, his voice softer now, losing its rigid, formal edge.
Obi-Wan shifted his weight, his hand dropping from his leather cuff to rest near his belt. For a moment, he looked as if he might retreat entirely, his mouth opening to offer another polite, empty dismissal. But something about your easy, unbothered posture seemed to keep him anchored.
Obi-Wan shifted his weight, his hand dropping from his leather cuff to rest near his belt. For a moment, he looked as if he might retreat entirely, his mouth opening to offer another polite, empty dismissal.
But he didn't.
To Obi-Wan, the world was usually a cacophony of quiet anxieties, his own mind a constant, turbulent storm he fought daily to subdue under Qui-Gon’s demanding, unorthodox tutelage.
To master the quiet of his mind was a personal, unnerving struggle of his, though he never admitted. But here you are, pointing out so clearly what he'd otherwise mask so well. Touching the exposed nerve so bluntly.
Perhaps in his unquietness he rushed to protect his pride, he admitted, although soon after he felt the shame fall into place.
"Are you looking for anything... specific?" you asked, your eyes flicking to the empty terminal behind him, then back to the quiet intensity of his gaze.
Obi-Wan felt shame slide into place. He turned to look at you. There was something about the strange, quiet static that hummed in the space between you. He did not recognize it, yet intrigued him, something he barely paid attention to before, but if he thought about it, it was the very thing that got him astray in the first place.
Something about his usual tightly coiled energy, and racing thoughts, usually buzzing like a live wire, found a bizarre, soothing equilibrium against your easy, unbothered posture.
It was a subtle, delicate movement in the space between you and him. Something so faint and undiscerning he almost missed in the chaotic set of his uncertainties.
"I was looking for the translation of the Shili texts," he admitted, his voice quiet, his boots shifting on the spot as he turned to look at you. "The ones concerning the early schisms of the Order. My Master... he believes the Council's current interpretation is somewhat narrow. I wanted to see the original translations."
A soft, genuine smile touched your face. This was your territory, the quiet history the Jedi so often ignored in favor of their grand doctrines. "The Togruta translations?" He nodded. "Those aren't in the main index. The Temple archivists filed them under 'apocrypha' fifty years ago because they didn't align with the Council's lessons on emotional detachment."
He blinked, clearly surprised by your sharp knowledge, and perhaps a little surprised by your bluntness. "They filed them away? But history shouldn't be hidden."
"It's not hidden," you said. "Just misplaced. I know exactly which shelf they're on. I could find them for you, if you'd like."
He stared at you, his chest rising and falling beneath his cream-colored tunics, he tried to place this feeling, the tether he knew to be there, though he missed completely every time he traced it somewhere.
He wasn't so interested in the translations anymore, his eyes searched yours while at his center he tried and failed to trace the origin of this thin, delicate connection. His feet moved ever so softly on the floor, turning to look at you, feeling the faint tug in his core disappear whenever he tried to reach for it.
"I should not trouble you," he said, the formal cadence that lacked the usual dismissal you've grown to know from Padawan and Jedi alike. Obi Wan grasp his hands in front of him. "And I should not seek out texts that have been deemed... unnecessary."
"Suit yourself, Padawan Kenobi."
He held your gaze for a fraction of a second longer than was considered polite, his blue-gray eyes tracing trying to grasp what he could've been missing, his eyes observed yours for a second. Sharp, intelligent, observant and guarded, before he offered another small, shallow bow.
"Good luck with your lift... Apprentice."
You offered him a brief nod with a quick measured pull of your lips.
You watched as he turned and walked away while you stood there for a moment longer before going back to your duties.
The next day Obi-Wan found himself back in the Archives, not at his usual spot in the philosophy alcoves. He had been there for nearly an hour, a stack of untouched datapads piled beside him. His posture was rigidly straight, his eyes fixed on the blue glow of his screen as if he were memorizing the coordinates of a star system.
You were quietly sorting a stack of incoming data-slates and answering occasional inquiries from visiting Consulars when the room was filled with the low-level hum of seeker droids and the soft, rhythmic rustle of robes.
You looked up just to see another Apprentice point them to your direction and you stopped as they made their way to you. With the corner of your eyes you could see the Chief Librarian trace their path to you with her eyes, the lines on her face rigid.
"How may I help you?" You asked when they identified you.
"We're here to service the East Wing repulsor-lift," he said, tapping the screen. "A work order came in. Says the lift's stabilizers are severely misaligned and posing an immediate hazard to archive personnel. We need you to guide us to the platform."
Your pitched your brow for a moment. You hadn't submitted any work order. The Temple archives were vast, and minor malfunctions were usually ignored for weeks unless a senior librarian or Jocasta Nu, the Chief Librarian, herself complained. It was a rule of thumb such thing never came from an Apprentice.
Your eyes instinctively flicked across the room toward a certain consulting terminal. Obi-Wan was still staring at his screen, completely motionless, but his fingers were twitching against his leather wrist cuff. The rapid, quiet friction of his thumb against the leather gave him away.
"Of course," you said politely. "Follow me. It's just through this aisle."
You stepped away from your task. As you guided the technician and the droids past the consulting stations, your path brought you directly behind Obi-Wan's chair.
As you closed the distance, his shoulders tensed. He focused on the terminal ahead of him with intense focus, eyes glazed and disassociated at the nonsense at his terminal.
The moment you passed by him, for a fraction of a second, his gaze drifted over his shoulder toward you, carrying a silent intent born from that faint connection he couldn't figure out just yet for being so faint and delicate. But the moment he felt you turning your head to meet his eyes, he looked away unsure if this looked as ridiculous as he felt.
You guided the droids to the lift, but your thoughts remained entirely anchored to the boy at the terminal. You observed as they worked on the repulsor-lift engine, your eyes drifting to Obi-Wan every now and then as his did to you.
"Is there anything I may help you with, Padawan Kenobi?" Jocasta's voice nearly startled him as his eyes had wandered to you and he didn't see her at his side.
He had a short pile of miscellaneous datapads on his station, the screen on a yet unrelated subject to those he had randomly selected. He didn't miss Jocasta's deep, obsidian black eyes take in the selection before him. Her tight smile was enough to let him know she was considering him a problem.
Your eyes caught on it, seeing when Jocasta's all-knowing eyes landed on you after being dismissed by him. You knew you were in trouble.
Obi-Wan saw as the maintenance robots left with the repulsor-lift. Your eyes caught his right before you were pulled aside by Jocasta and he felt something uncomfortable settle in his gut when time passed and you didn't come back.
When Obi-Wan returns the next day he spends a good amount of time looking around, he spends some time immersed in an aimless research. His eyes scanning the surroundings every now and then, he changes dataplates every few minutes as an excuse to look around the rows of shelves.
He doesn't see you in the archives for the next few days and grows worried.
"May I help you, Padawan Kenobi?"
He hears the soft-spoken tone at his back as he's walking between the farther rows of Archives. He turns seeing one of the Archivists. He smiles faintly at him to encourage him to speak.
"I'm looking for an Apprentice," he finds himself saying and the Archivist squints slightly at him.
The older archivist, a dry-faced Mirialan named Master Sulan, squinted closer, his dark eyes scanning the nervous tension radiating from the young Padawan. "There are dozens of apprentices assigned to the East Wing, Padawan Kenobi. Perhaps you could be more specific?"
Obi-Wan felt a familiar, uncomfortable warmth creep up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, adjusting the sleeve of his outer robe with a stiff, practiced motion to hide his twitching fingers. "The... the one who was managing the secondary historical archives. Specifically, the Shili texts."
"Ah. The one who has a habit of leaving her terminal logs open," Master Sulan said, his voice flat and dry as old parchment. "She's currently unavailable."
"Unavailable?" Obi-Wan repeated before he could stop himself. The word came out sharper than he intended, cracking his carefully maintained composure.
He quickly softened his tone, trying to smooth over the sudden spike in his Force presence. "I only meant... she was assisting me with a rare translation. I had hoped to complete the research today."
"I see." Sulan tapped a slim finger against his data-tablet. "Well, she has been reassigned to deep-storage cataloging in the subterranean vaults for the next ten days."
A cold weight settled heavily in Obi-Wan's stomach. It was his fault. His clumsy attempt to fix her broken platform had drawn Jocasta Nu's sharp, unforgiving eyes directly to her.
He had wanted to help, to quiet his own lingering thoughts about her by doing something tangible, but his interference had only gotten her punished.
"I... see," Obi-Wan murmured. His fingers drifted back toward his belt, his thumb finding the worn leather of his wrist cuff and rubbing it in a frantic, silent rhythm. "Thank you, Master."
"The Force favors patience, Padawan," Sulan said, his eyes lingering on Obi-Wan’s restless hands before dismissing him. "Perhaps you should consult the standard philosophy texts in the meantime."
Obi-Wan offered a tight, formal bow and retreated, his boots clicking quietly against the cold stone.
For the next five days, the Temple felt exceptionally vast and remarkably empty.
Obi-Wan sat in the high gardens during his meditation hours, his legs crossed, his hands resting on his knees. He breathed in the damp, heavy scent of the greenhouse flora, trying to submerge himself in the living Force.
There is no emotion, there is peace, he repeated in his mind, but the words felt hollow, like a dry wind whistling through a canyon. Every time he reached out into the Force, searching for a quiet equilibrium, his awareness drifted down, past the polished marble floors, past the soaring spires, toward the dark, cold underbelly of the Temple where the uncatalogued stone tablets were kept.
He tried to tell himself it was merely a curiosity. An apprentice's duty was none of his concern. Yet, his mind kept returning to the easy, completely unbothered way you carried yourself in a place that constantly demanded rigid, self-righteous perfection. You didn't look at him like he was Qui-Gon Jinn’s prized, anxious pupil. You just looked at him.
When you finally returned to the archives on the sixth day, Obi-Wan felt a sudden, sharp relief that nearly knocked the wind out of him.
You were sitting at your usual station, a massive stack of neglected data-slates piled high beside you. There's a smudge of gray carbon-dust on your left cheek, and your hair was pulled back in a loose, messy knot that would have made Jocasta Nu sigh in exasperation.
Obi-Wan stood at the entrance of the aisle for a moment, watching you work. He took a slow, grounding breath, smoothing down his tunics, before he stepped forward.
Your eyes flicked up at the sound of his approaching boots. You didn't stand, nor did you offer a formal bow. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, a familiar, teasing pull at the corner of your mouth.
"Well, if it isn't the savior of the East Wing," you said, your voice low, carrying that dry, quiet amusement he refuses to acknowledge he missed. "I hear the repulsor-lift is working beautifully now. A real triumph of modern engineering."
Obi-Wan stopped at your desk. The sheer relief of seeing you was instantly swallowed by a wave of intense guilt. He looked down at his polished boots, then back to your face, his blue-gray eyes searching yours.
"I am... deeply sorry," he said, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper. "I didn't mean to cause you trouble. The maintenance order... I only wished to ensure your safety. I didn't realize Madame Nu would..."
"Would banish me to the dark, dusty basement to count broken stone tablets?" You interrupted softly, your eyes softening just a fraction as you took in his rigid, miserable posture. You let out a quiet, huffed laugh, shaking your head. "Don't look so tragic, Padawan Kenobi. It wasn't your fault. Jocasta has been looking for an excuse to send me down there for weeks. She thinks my attitude lacks 'Jedi solemnity.'"
"Your attitude is... unconventional," Obi-Wan admitted, the corner of his own mouth twitching upward despite himself. "But it isn't a reason for punishment."
"It's fine," you said, leaning forward, resting your elbows on the desk. You looked up at him, your eyes bright, fully locking onto his. "Though, I must say, for someone who claims his mind is perfectly clear, you certainly went to a lot of trouble for a squeaking lift."
The words hung in the air, a delicate, charged weight. Obi-Wan felt that strange, quiet static hum between you again, stronger now, vibrating in the narrow space between you and him.
It wasn't the roaring tide of the Force he was trained to channel; it was something smaller, sharper, entirely theirs.
"I didn't like the thought of you having an accident," he said. The words were simple, honest, and entirely devoid of the polished, formal cadence he usually hid behind.
You stared at him, the smirk slowly fading from your lips, replaced by a quiet, searching expression. For a moment, the cynicism was gone, leaving only the raw, grounded warmth he had felt the first day.
"Well," you murmured, your voice suddenly softer, losing its defensive, teasing edge. "I didn't fall. Thanks to you."
"Yes," Obi-Wan whispered, his hand drifting to his side.
You looked at him for a second longer, the silence stretching between you, comfortable and desperately tense all at once.
"I still have those Togruta translations," you said quietly, breaking the silence but not the spell. "If you still want to see them. I hid them behind the Mandalorian texts before Jocasta sent me down."
A faint, genuine smile touched Obi-Wan's lips. "I would like that very much."
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