anythingobi

[anythingobi]

You asked for Obi-Wan related prompts, how about modern!AU QuiObi? University!AU or AU where they are diplomats or coffeshop!AU really, whatever suits for you most.

Hey my guy! Sorry it took me so long to fill this. I started my first full time job and it’s exhausting af. I’m finally starting to get used to it though.

The thing about NATO was that the pay was shit. Qui-Gon had joined for the same reasons many others had—opportunity to travel, engaging work, variety. He was quickly pipelined into the job of facilitating dialogue, which was really just a more boring way to say being overly polite to people to ensure that nobody could blame a war on him. His unshakable calm and nonexistent temper allowed him to excel, but despite it all he had to make endless sacrifices to ensure he would be able to retire comfortably. In the end, it was as tiring and as much work as any other job.

Of course if he’d had another job he wouldn’t have Obi-Wan, which might have actually been a good thing. He’d thought his days of tripping over his own words were long gone. He’d built an entire career out of it. Why he suddenly became a stuttering mess around the man was, well it was obvious. The boy was young, idealistic, smart, and extremely eye catching. He also would have tripped over himself to do anything Qui-Gon asked had he been capable of tripping, but no, he had to follow instructions with grace and ease. The man couldn’t even make a cup of tea without drawing eyes, and Qui-Gon was stuck with that frustration now since they were practically attached at the hip when on the clock.

This was new territory for Qui-Gon. He’d never worked with a dedicated translator before, but there was absolutely no way to argue against it. No argument could change the fact that Obi-Wan spoke Arabic and he didn’t, and no argument could change the fact that he was currently on a trip that required communication with many native Darija speakers. Obi-Wan, of course, seemed right at home.

They were also staying together. They’d been told that the place they were staying had accommodations for two, but in reality they were in the same room and there wasn’t really a bed at all. Instead, both of them were on pieces of strange couch-like furniture that were too hard to truly be comfortable, leaving Qui-Gon both sore and frustrated as he had to wake to stiff muscles and the inevitability of averting his eyes while Obi-Wan dressed for the day. Of course, they were lucky to have these accommodations at all. The area they were staying didn’t have any hotels or equivalents, and they were being hosted by a local who insisted nothing more than that they join him for morning tea before they all went to work. Obi-Wan said he found it charming. Qui-Gon envied his youth and enthusiasm. He had hoped to sleep in, since their host was gone this morning, but Obi-Wan had woken up to make the tea himself.

“I’ll never know how you manage to drink so much of this stuff.” Qui-Gon raised his glass to his lips. He preferred his tea to be dark and slightly bitter, but here it seemed to be something akin to sugar water.

“I like the mint.” Obi-Wan’s hands were slender. He made the tea glass look elegant as he brought it to his lips. Qui-Gon just looked like he was going to crush his. “Besides, I’ve always enjoyed sweet things.”

“I prefer bitter.”

“Well, that explains your attitude.” Obi-Wan took another sip, a sly smile just visible on the other side of the glass. “You know we’ve hardly spoken? Practically alone in a foreign country and you prefer not to speak with the man who shares your language. Astounding. Am I truly that abrasive?”

“Abrasive?” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. That was one word he would never use to describe the man sitting before him. “Absolutely not.”

“Then what is it about me that makes you resent this assignment?” Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side curiously. There was no accusation in his tone, despite the harshness of the words. “Is it because I’m young? Inexperienced? You know this could be an opportunity for you to teach me.”

“I talk to you all day, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon shook his head. “Do you really want to listen to me more?”

“No, you talk through me all day.” Obi-Wan shook his head, replacing his glass on the table. “I don’t mind, considering that’s my job, but don’t act as if it’s the same thing.” Qui-Gon took a sip of his tea, cringing as he remembered just how sweet it was. He tried not to watch the way that Obi-Wan was tapping his fingers on the glass as he considered the truth of the young man’s words.

“I’m rather used to working alone, Obi-Wan. I hope I haven’t offended you.” He glanced at Obi-Wan’s face and saw an amused smile there. “I do enjoy your company, and I promise I don’t find you abrasive. Quite the opposite, actually. You were unlucky to have been assigned to me.” He looked back down, watching fingers skim glass. Obi-Wan was toying with the lip of the cup now, unable to keep himself still. “Do you speak sign language, Obi-Wan?”

“Several different kinds.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at the change in subject. “Why, is there someone who requires it? I’d like to brush up on a bit of it before we leave if that’s the case. It’s been quite a while since I’ve studied anything in the Arab sign family.”

“No, no, I was just thinking you’d be good at it.” Qui-Gon brushed his hand through the air dismissively. Obi-Wan was looking at him questioningly.

“It’s not any more difficult than any other language.” Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, bringing his hands with him and signing along as he spoke. Qui-Gon was transfixed. “Easier actually, since you don’t need to learn any new grammar or syntax. It’s just vocab.” There was a drawn out pause before Obi-Wan moved his hands again, pushing one down in a chopping motion and then using to fingers to point between their eyes. He had that grin on his face again.

“It means stop staring, but I’m only teasing. I much prefer an ego boost to thinking you resent my presence.” Obi-Wan’s smile was growing bigger—his eyes crinkling a bit. It faltered for a moment when he didn’t receive a response, but he must have found the truth in Qui-Gon’s expression because it returned in full force. “I’d thought, maybe, but I wasn’t sure. You can be quite contradictory, Qui-Gon. It seemed like there was a fifty percent chance you wanted to kill me, and fifty percent chance that you wanted to bone me. I figured if it was the former, I’d probably want to die after this conversation ended anyway.” That elicited a genuine chuckle from Qui-Gon.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He shook his head, out of depth. He’d thought he’d been better at hiding his interest, but clearly enough had bled through to push Obi-Wan to risk bringing it up. “I apologize if I’ve acted inappropriately.” That caused Obi-Wan’s eyebrows to shoot up again.

“Acted inappropriately? Not at all.” He stood and stretched his arms above his head, turning slightly. “Although I do need to shower still, if you’re interested in changing that.”

[anythingobi]

I’ve started a full time job where I’m on my feet all day, and BOY do I end each day exhausted. Let me tell you guys though, I am so PUMPED to work on the prompts y’all sent me now that I have a weekend off.

[anythingobi]

prompt(s): tired General Obi-Wan has fallen asleep somewhere odd. // knight kenobi with his longer hair having All the Fans // young Obi-Wan with his friends in the creche making art

I actually did all three of these but I couldn’t put them all in this answer because formatting is weird, and I’d like to do art for one of them anyway. I’ll be sure to tag you when I post the others, but for now here is Knight Kenobi with long hair and a dedicated fanclub:

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Master Windu.” Obi-Wan turned to give the man a bashful smile. “I’ve always found that group quite attentive, and perfectly willing to listen to instruction.”

“That’s because they’re all in love with you, Kenobi.” Mace rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as well. He was certain that Mace simply used too heavy of a hand with the older students. They needed to be treated as their own people while still being gently corrected and put on course. “They’re hardworking padawans, and they’re dedicated to learning to properly handle their sabers.” Mace snorted.

“They’d like to handle someone’s saber. That’s for sure.”

“No need to be crude.” Obi-Wan went crimson. He may be a fully realized Knight, but he didn’t think he’d ever be accustomed to such blatant talk in the temple.

“I’m not the only one thinking it, Kenobi. I’m just the only one who’s blunt enough to tell you and dumb enough to believe you don’t already know.” Mace put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as they walked. “You’ve even got fans on the Council. I overheard Eeth Koth and Adi Gallia discussing how your hair would be a convenient handhold during—I’ll spare you the details considering you already look scandalized enough.” Mace gave Obi-Wan a pointed look, and all he could do was blink absently as if it would help him clear his head.

“I grew my hair out because I wanted to get as far away from that damned padawan cut as possible.” Obi-Wan reached back instinctively, tying his hair out of the way for convenience during his upcoming saber class. “It’s not my fault if other people want to grab it.”

“True.” Mace glanced at him. “But I’d just like you to admit that it’s the reason those kids listen to you better than they do me.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t call them kids, Master Windu. They’re all well into adulthood by now. On their way to becoming knights.”

“Just admit it, Obi-Wan. They’re hot for teacher.  They want you to take your sparring lessons horizontal.”

“My students do not want to shag me.” Obi-Wan turned and glared. “And neither do any Council members. You’re lying because you’re embarrassed that a knight teaches the class better than the infamous Master Windu.” Windu sighed.

“I think we need to take another look at our trials, if they allow someone this purposefully oblivious through.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t take them, remember? Killed a Sith?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Maybe you should try growing your hair out, Master.” He couldn’t help smiling at the image. Mace Windu with hair. “If you think it has such a profound effect on teaching ability.”

“Just do me a favor, Kenobi,” Mace said as they approached the area where his class would take place. “Do a nice quick meditation before you start this class, and focus on the living force for once. Get out of that cosmic unifying force mumbo and really feel the spirits of these kids.”

“Not kids, Mace.”

“Kenobi.” Mace gave him a pointed look and Obi-Wan sighed and nodded, if nothing else just to get the man off his back. Satisfied, the Master squeezed his shoulder and walked away, allowing Obi-Wan to walk into his class. He was ten minutes early but all the students were already warming up. Standing by the doorway he focused solely on the feelings of the class of padawans before him as they became aware of his presence.

Shit.

[anythingobi]

If you’ve sent me a prompt, I want you to know I’m not ignoring you. I got insanely sick this week and had no brainpower to write or motivation to draw. All I did was sleep and be miserable. Anyway, it’s nice to be coming back to my senses and have all these ideas to catch up with. Love y’all, and thanks for sending me prompts!

[anythingobi]

Hello! Could I get some quiobi back rubs/massage, please? Thank you😘💕💕💕

Of course you can get that! Your prompts are always so wonderful. I hope you enjoy!

 “Language, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon turned to give a chastising glare, drawing a blush out of the younger man.

“Well, maybe if you’d actually let some of this tension go,” Obi-Wan punctuated his words by digging the heel of his palm into his master’s back, “I wouldn’t feel the need to curse. Honestly, you even make massage difficult. This is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun?” Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow. “I believe you talked me into this by insisting it was a completely serious and necessary medical action, meant to relieve stress and tension and ensure my physical readiness.” Obi-Wan colored a bit.

“Yes, a fun serious and necessary medical action. How could relieving stress not be fun?” He was practically punching at Qui-Gon’s shoulder blades now, but they were still riddled with knots. Even the tendrils of force healing he was using to bolster his attempts weren’t fully successful.

“I daresay you’re having enough fun for the both of us, padawan.”

“Ah yes, clearly I’m having the time of my life.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and he could feel Qui-Gon chuckling beneath his hands. Annoyance struck him before the idea did, but it was the idea that caught him. He thought that perhaps it was a bad one, but he found himself longing to follow it anyway.

Suddenly, he found himself lessening the pressure in his hands, gently gliding them across the spine and feeling the skin tingling beneath him. He dipped his head down to press a kiss against the left shoulder blade, mind humming tensely at his own boldness.

“Obi-Wan, what are you doing?” The muscle beneath him twitched minutely and he could feel his master holding his breath. He skimmed his hands down to the waist, pressing them lightly up into hard muscle.

“You’re tense, Master. I’m helping.” He smiled coyly against Qui-Gon’s back. He could practically feel the man overthinking everything. No wonder his muscles were so strained. “Don’t fret so much. What is it you’re always saying to me? Don’t center on your anxieties?” He let a soft breath play over skin, moving his hands across Qui-Gon’s sides as he leaned over him. His braid was skimming flesh as he waited for a response.

“This is inappropriate.” Qui-Gon braced his arms, making to sit up.

“This is nothing I haven’t dreamed about.” Obi-Wan pressed his forehead against the rising form. “At length.” He pressed his hand softly into the small of his back, easing the man to lie back down. “We will do nothing untoward. I am respectful of our situation, but I require your confidence. It is not improper to enjoy my touch, Master, so long as it remains innocent. You have my word that it will.” He could feel the muscle tense again, before finally yielding.

“You have my trust, Obi-Wan.”

That was all he needed to hear. He returned pressure to his hands, sliding them over muscles that were now flexible where they had once been hard. This time he allowed himself to take pleasure in the action as well. He traced his lips across the spine, letting cool breath bring sensation. He traced his hands reverently along the curve of muscle, alternating between gentle and bitingly hard and reveling in the gasps he received when his hands dug into flesh. He could feel the body beneath him softening. Unravelling. Knots being unwound and unknown tension being released. Eventually he stopped, mouth resting on the back of his Master’s head and his body holding close as the other man sat up gracefully. He was moved, gently, so that his forehead touched another. It was close. Intimate. But ultimately proper. There could be no furthering of contact from this point without consequences for them both.

“Someday, Obi-Wan. Someday.”

[anythingobi]

My inbox is dried up. Hit me with those sweet prompts.

Any ship or no ship so long as Obi-Wan is somehow involved. If you don’t specify if it’s a prompt for art or fic I’ll choose for you. You may end up getting both anyway if I feel like it.

[anythingobi]

Hi! If you're still taking prompts, and since you wrote the first I asked so beautifully, what about a modern QuiObi, changing the ages a bit to have Obi being Anakin's single dad (or Ashoka's) and meeting Qui-Gon and whatever you fancy from there. Thanks :)

Howdy hey! I’m not great at modern AUs. They’ve never been my strong suit. Not sure why, but it’s just how it is. Anyway, I figured Qui-Gon would probably have a serious business sort of job, but also wanted him to have some sort of moral edge so I made him work for a nonprofit. I thought Obi-Wan would do something a little more hands on. This is what I ended up coming up with. Hope you like!

“Anakin, for the love of—“ Obi-Wan caught himself, took a deep breath, and turned back to his son. “Leave the poor man alone, Anakin!”

“How come he gets to drink the orange stuff? You said it’s poison.” Anakin crossed his arms and huffed up, and Obi-Wan found himself regretting what technically wasn’t a lie. Alcohol was a poison. It was just a very fun poison. Fun poison he hadn’t had since he had gained custody of his son, and which he was currently glancing longingly at.

“Because he’s an adult. If he wants to drink poison then that’s his business.” Obi-Wan looked up at the man before him apologetically. He was a tall with a slightly scruffy beard, casually sipping on an amber liquid with an amused smile. He didn’t seem bothered in the least by Anakin’s outburst. “I’m sorry. My sitter bailed at the last minute but I was told it was okay to bring him as long as he didn’t make a scene.” Obi-Wan squeezed the boy’s shoulder meaningfully.

“Ah. Don’t worry then. I won’t tell.” He smiled amiably at Obi-Wan, who smiled back gratefully.

“I’d come to take your plate.” Obi-Wan gestured to the empty plate sitting next to the man, flushing in embarrassment. “I’d told Anakin to stay in the back, but I’m afraid he got very curious as to what was going on out here.”

“Ah. You’re waitstaff then?”

“Catering.” Obi-Wan moved his hair out of his eyes and scooped a stubborn Anakin up from the floor, leaning forward to grab the dish and feeling the man’s eyes follow him as he did so. “But everyone’s picking up the slack where we can today. We’re short staffed. The flu. That’s why they let me bring my son along.”

“Well, Anakin.” The man had to bend over to make eye contact despite the boy being held up in Obi-Wan’s arms. “I’m afraid there’s nothing interesting going on out here. These fundraising events are some of the most dull affairs in existence, and I’d much rather be in the back. That’s where all the fun is.”

“The back is boring,” Anakin whined. Obi-Wan ran his cheek along the boy’s hair. He’d have ruffled it with his hand had he not still been holding the plate.

“Out here it’s just adults talking. You’re not allowed to run around or talk about anything fun.” The man winced in mock pain. “It’s horrible and we’re all trapped.” Obi-Wan smiled as Anakin adopted a shocked face, taking the bait.

“Then why did you come here?” He whispered. The tall man leaned in close to whisper his answer.

“Because they’re paying me.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh, and it earned him an appreciative smile and a giggle from his son. He was about to thank the man for his understanding and disappear back to the kitchen when the man’s attention was suddenly fixed on him.

“I’m Qui-Gon.” He stood back up to his full height. His quite impressive full height.

“That’s quite the name.”

“So is Anakin. One of a kind. Please tell me at least one of us has a normal name.” Qui-Gon took a sip of his drink and Obi-Wan felt himself flush in embarrassment. His family had a history of oddity when it came to names.

“I’m afraid not.” Obi-Wan grimaced. “Obi-Wan. Although my parents were between that and Ben.” The man before him snorted.

“Please tell me your wife’s name is Obi-Two.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Obi-Two is my sister.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t have a wife.” He watched as Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

“Husband?” There was a teasing note to his voice, but Obi-Wan knew fishing when he saw it.

“Not yet. Firmly on the market.” Anakin was getting antsy in his arms, and he knew that staying much longer would be tempting fate. He couldn’t risk another outburst. “Although I really can’t afford to lose this job, and we are quite short staffed today. I’m afraid I must return to the kitchen, and stay there.” Obi-Wan shifted to make stern eye contact with Anakin, only looking back up once he’d received a pouty but resigned sigh. “It was nice to meet you, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan started to turn when a hand appeared on his arm, halting him. He flushed as a business card was slipped slowly into his chest pocket.

“I’d ask for yours, but your hands are a little full at the moment.” Qui-Gon was grinning at him, clearly pleased by the flustered look on his face. “Unless you’d like me to reach into your back pocket for you. Grab your wallet.” The grin was playful and for a moment Obi-Wan thought he might drop everything he was holding.

“Yes, NO. I mean no. I need to get back to work.” He was met only with an amused smirk, and turned to walk back to the kitchen, face on fire.

“He was nice,” Anakin said, beaming up at him.

“Yes, Anakin, he was nice.” He didn’t want to have to explain flirting to his son right now while overworked at a catering gig. “Very nice.”

[anythingobi]

Hey there! I was hoping I could prompt for quiobi, clothes sharing? Thanks!

Padawan Obi-Wan likes oversized clothes, so naturally he just steals from Qui-Gon

I’m not used to drawing pre-clone wars Obi so please cut me some slack on this one. His face looks so young I didn’t know what to do

[anythingobi]

Quiobiani and relaxation? I know this is my second prompt but good luck.

Ah, I see you made sure to give me a prompt that would be difficult to turn into angst this time. You’re in luck, it’s 100% fluff this go around. I was going to draw, but I’m stuck on campus because of finals and I forgot to bring my notebook, so all I have on me is lined paper. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Anakin was glaring again, but Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to make himself care. Anakin was always glaring.

“Quit being pissy and come join us.” Qui-Gon brought his arm out in invitation and Obi-Wan quirked his eyebrow.

“You’re taking up the entire couch, as alway.” Anakin rolled his eyes as Obi-Wan smiled at him. He really didn’t seem to be understanding the invitation.

“Yes but there’s plenty of food. I cooked for three.” Anakin gave one final chastising look before walking over and sitting on the floor to lean against the couch. He picked up one of the bierocks that had been left for him—his favorite, and began eating it moodily. Obi-Wan replaced his head in Qui-Gon’s lap, continuing to recline as he brought his hand down to play with the young man’s hair. He wondered if he’d be growing it out after his imminent knighting.

“You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know.” Obi-Wan smiled tranquilly as Anakin turned to raise his eyebrows at him. Qui-Gon had begun rubbing circles into his shoulder and he stretched languidly in appreciation. “The couch is much more comfortable. I might even take a nap.”

“You’re taking up the entire couch, Obi-Wan.” He sounded annoyed, but he was tilting his head quite obviously, allowing Obi-Wan’s hands to card effortlessly through his hair. Qui-Gon chuckled at the sight. “There’s no room.”

“Nonsense, Anakin. There’s plenty of room.” Qui-Gon gestured to the horizontal space next to Obi-Wan, and Anakin gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, but he shifted back a bit and moved his arm from in front of him to rest on his side in invitation.

“I’m not a child.” Anakin turned back around, huffing at the notion. He wasn’t some scared kid scrambling into his masters’ bed after a nightmare. He didn’t need to be babied. A hand returned to his hair, twisting playfully.

“Wouldn’t be inviting you if you were,” Obi-Wan muttered drowsily, and Anakin found himself flushing a bit at the implication of the words. He looked up at Master Qui-Gon and saw a sly smile. His hand was rubbing along Obi-Wan’s arm and the man was relaxing into it like a particularly friendly cat. He had to admit that the entire scene looked decidedly comfortable, and he’d had a long day preparing for his trials. Master Windu didn’t seem to think he was ready, and he was facing resistance at every turn. The idea of a warm and friendly nap didn’t seem too terrible. He took the last bite of his food and hesitantly moved onto the couch, feeling arms wrap around him immediately.

He quickly found himself being spooned as Obi-Wan guided him to lie in front of him facing out, and he found the situation a bit humorous considering he had outgrown the man years ago. Regardless, he relaxed quickly as a hand wriggled it’s way around his waist. Qui-Gon had leaned back comfortably, placing his legs on the coffee table to make more room in his lap as he closed his eyes serenely. Obi-Wan was practically purring into his neck, and he allowed himself to close his eyes. Qui-Gon’s lap was remarkably comfortable, and it suddenly made sense to him why Obi-Wan always seemed to choose this position to lie down in. He shuffled himself backwards, maximizing his contact with the warm body behind him and turning his head into a more convenient position before letting out a pleased breath.

“I’m going to have to join you two more often,” he sighed, already feeling himself beginning to drift off. There was a pleased chuckle from behind him and warm breath on his neck before a soft kiss was placed there, and he felt himself smiling serenely and wishing he could return it from his current position.

“I quite like that idea,” Obi-Wan nuzzled against his neck. “Now go to sleep, Anakin. You have a long day tomorrow and I’m not going to be responsible for keeping you up all night.” Anakin smiled and allowed himself to drift off, granting himself one more wry comment before succumbing to sleep.

“We can save that for tomorrow night.”

[anythingobi]

Hey, so first thing. I think the ship name is CodyWan (or something similar?) Not too sure myself. Second, I've read several fics in which Obi-Wan goes to the Agricorps and all that, but I'd love one in which he chooses to stay as a crechemaster or healer. And not because he is not chosen as a padawan, but because he chooses that career. And any pairing you want, or gen if tou wish, though I'm a sucker for QuiObi. Sorry if it's too specific, thanks, and no problem if you don't want to do it.

First of all, thank you so much for answering the question about the ship name. Now I can finally tag it properly! Second of all, the moment I read this I realized that I had to write Obi-Wan as a healer immediately. He’d be so good with Jedi patients and then I imagined Qui-Gon getting injured all the time and basically just thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy what I wrote!

“I should have known who my patient would be the moment padawan Silvan said the word ‘explosion.’” Obi-Wan started grabbing bacta patches as he spoke. Master Jinn was what he liked to refer to as a problem patient and would likely balk at the idea of spending time in a tank. As it was though, the man looked to be in bad shape, not that that was anything new. “I’m starting to think you’re getting injured just as an excuse to see me.”

“Nonsense, Healer Kenobi.” Master Jinn turned his head and smiled at him. “I’m a Jedi Master. I don’t need an excuse to see you.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and gestured for padawan Silvan to retrieve an antiseptic spray. It would hurt to spray on the burns, and strictly speaking there were less painful ways to go about the process, but in his experience Master Jinn preferred quick and easy solutions, and didn’t like him to tell him in advance if something was going to hurt. Obi-Wan simply made a clucking noise to show his disbelief at the man’s words, and gestured for him to open up for a thermometer before retrieving the antiseptic spray from his padawan helper and beginning to apply it methodically to the various burns and scratches that covered Qui-Gon’s torso. He used the force to gently loosen and remove any dead skin or debris as he went, and the unexpected pain earned him a small jerk and a glare from the Jedi Master. He plastered his face with the most innocent look he could manage and continued his work.

“The antiseptic spray might hurt a bit,” he warned belatedly, a sly smile on his face as he worked his way around to the man’s back. Qui-Gon gave what was probably meant to be a witty response, but it was smothered by the thermometer in his mouth. “What was that? You’re sorry for getting carelessly injured again?” Obi-Wan gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I suppose I forgive you. Now give me my thermometer back.” He reached over the man’s shoulder to grab the instrument and gave a tsk when he saw the reading. “You have a fever, Qui-Gon. Any problems I should know about other than the burns, or should I go ahead and start treating you for infection?”

“I believe it’s just the burns, but I’m not a healer, as you keep reminding me.” Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and Obi-Wan nodded, turning to the side. “Padawan Silvan, remind me what we do for early stage infected burns?” The padawan looked up at him, surprised.

“Well, you already applied the antiseptic, and it has, uh, sulfur in it.” The young woman brought a hand up to her head thoughtfully.

“Silver sulfadiazine,” Obi-Wan corrected, smiling. “And I’ve also been removing dead skin and debris. What do we need to do next?”

“Not leave your burn victim sitting alone and in pain?” Qui-Gon interrupted, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.

“He makes a good point, padawan Silvan. Pain may be a secondary concern when a patient might face permanent injury or death if we aren’t fast enough, but if I know Master Jinn here, he isn’t in danger of going anywhere anytime soon.” Obi-Wan watched as the padawan before him regarded Master Jinn’s injuries thoughtfully before turning back to him.

“His burns are fairly extensive,” she ventured. “We could put him in a bacta tank?” Obi-Wan smiled at her.

“Correct. Master Jinn here is the perfect candidate for a short dip in a bacta tank.” He threw his hand up to silence his patient as he saw him open his mouth to object. “Qui-Gon here however, hates bacta tanks. It would be kinder of us to treat him some other way. What is the preferable alternative to a tank?” He looked down kindly as he spoke, smiling encouragingly.

“Bacta patches?” The young woman looked pointedly at the pile of bacta patches that Obi-Wan had brought into the room with him and he found himself letting out a chuckle.

“That’s correct, padawan Silvan. I’d like you to help me apply them.” The padawan looked fearfully at Master Jinn and then back to Obi-Wan, and he couldn’t keep the smile from reaching his eyes at her wariness. “Don’t worry, Master Jinn may be a slave driver in your lightsaber classes, but he won’t bite. And remember,” he gave a pointed look to Qui-Gon, who rolled his eyes, “healers have rank in the healing halls. So long as he’s my patient, Master Jinn has to listen to me. Besides, bacta patches are quite soothing. This is an easy task, and you will be serving to relieve his pain. He might actually like you more after this.”

“Don’t listen to him, padawan. I’m going to kick your ass in our next class if you don’t immediately stop doing everything he says.” Obi-Wan laughed jovially and flicked Qui-Gon chastisingly before beginning to apply the bacta. Master Jinn closed his eyes and sighed as he progressed along the man’s torso, and padawan Silvan soon began to help as she realized the positive effect it was having on the patient.

“There will be one step left after this, padawan.” Obi-Wan continued applying the patches as he looked for the girl’s reaction. He could see the gears turning in her head.

“Order him to give me a passing grade in Advanced Lightsaber Forms?” She looked up at Obi-Wan, a self deprecating smile on her face as he chuckled at her answer. “I’m sorry, Healer Kenobi. I can’t remember another step for treating burns.” She picked up a bacta patch and continued helping, waiting patiently for her lesson.

“That’s because you’re training to be a knight, Silvan.” He gave her a sad smile. “Here in the Healing Halls, we prescribe rest, and schedule follow up appointments. Would you grab me my appointment book?” The padawan nodded eagerly, applying the last bacta patch and shuffling off towards his office. He shook his head fondly and turned back to his patient.

“I expect you to actually rest this time.” He walked in front of his patient and crossed his arms. “I know I’m a quite charming human being, but if you come in with another completely avoidable injury just because you refused to follow my instructions, I’m going to have to reconsider that dinner with you.”

“What dinner?” Qui-Gon looked up at him, confused.

“The one I’m asking you to right now.” Obi-Wan smirked, reaching his hand out to grab his appointment book from the returning padawan. “I’d like to see you for a follow-up about these burns in about a ten-day. What does your Primeday schedule look like?”

“Busy in the mornings, but I wrap up my classes at around the sixteenth hour.” He began picking at a bacta patch on his shoulder and Obi-Wan reached out to swat his hand away.

“Very well, I’m putting you down for the nineteenth hour. You should be my final appointment that day unless there’s some sort of catastrophe or I’m called out of the temple. A late dinner afterwards?” Obi-Wan looked up, some of his bravado slipping as he waited for Qui-Gon’s answer.

“I think I can make that work, so long as you don’t expect me to still be resting.” Qui-Gon smirked suggestively and Obi-Wan felt his face going crimson. He saw padawan Silvan’s eyes going wide as she looked up at him, and he knew he was going to be a subject of temple gossip once again the moment she returned to her friends.

“Well,” Obi-Wan avoided eye contact under the guise of notating the appointment and following date before looking back up. “I think we can make an exception.”

[anythingobi]

Quiobi and morning grogginess

Did you probably intend for this to be fluffy? Yes. Did I make this fluffy? Absolutely not. I am sorry.

There was a time when Obi-Wan was nigh impossible to rouse from bed in the morning, while his master woke early for tea and meditation. That time was before he had been named a general of the Grand Army of the Republic. As it stood now, Obi-Wan was rubbing his eyes sadly, wishing he had the luxury of curling up next to his partner and drifting off again.

If it weren’t for the number of casualties, Obi-Wan would have thought it a miracle that his battalion had been called to Falleen. Rescuing the locals had been a bloody task, but among them they found more than one gifted child ready to be taken back to Coruscant. Those children had been in the care of a temple acquisitions team who the Republic had lost contact with months ago on New Cov.

Of course, among that acquisitions team was the man lying peacefully next to Obi-Wan. He had already shirked his duty for one night, pushing tasks onto the competent Commander Cody in order to spend the night catching up with his old master. He had actually used the phrase “catching up,” and had been met with a sarcastic wink, but also an assurance that they wouldn’t be bothered under any circumstance other than the most dire. It appeared even his clones weren’t immune to the jedi rumor mill, but he couldn’t seem to make himself care. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were wrong.

Regardless of how wonderful it had been to find Qui-Gon alive, and how peaceful it had been to once again talk with him, touch him, share a bed with him—he still had responsibilities on this ship. A trip to Coruscant would mean following the Correlian run all the way to the other side of the galaxy, a trip they could not afford to take if they were still to meet up to assist General Tur-Mukan with his most recent campaign into Bothan space. More likely, a ship would be spared and Master Jinn and the other Jedi they had rescued from Falleen would be entrusted with returning the children to the temple. If Obi-Wan was going to arrange the necessary actions, he was going to need to get up and join his officers now, but his body had decided that today was the day to reminisce over his old habit of waking up as late as he possibly could.

It didn’t help that Qui-Gon was next to him, sleeping silently and invitingly. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the man’s waist, press his body flush against his back and his forehead into his shoulder, and sleep until they could wake together. Instead, he rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. He mentally cursed everything he could find it within him to curse before rolling languidly onto his side and planting a soft kiss onto Qui-Gon’s cheek, careful not to wake him.

He forced himself to roll out of the bed, still as tired as he had been for the entire war but wishing for a respite for the first time since the throes of the war’s first standard year. Routine had allowed him to adjust, but now he wanted nothing more than for this war to be over. He wanted to be a peacekeeper again, wandering the galaxy and leaving a legacy of unity and reconciliation in his wake. Instead, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and donned his armor, feeling the last vestiges of sleep leave him as he did so, but feeling warmth and contentment flee him as well. With the last piece in place, he sent one last longing look to his peacefully sleeping master and exited the room, mentally deciding which ship he could spare for Qui-Gon to leave him on.

[anythingobi]

Me again! I loved the first one v much (thank you💕💕💕). Hope it's okay I'm requesting another prompt: quiobi with Obi-Wan playing with Qui-Gon's hair (which is obviously greying and Qui-Gon is self-conscious about it maybe?) Thank you very much😘💕💕💕

I was really happy to get another prompt from you, and I wanted to draw it but I ended up getting real fed up with Qui-Gon’s hair so I guess you’re just getting fic today. Thanks so much for the awesome prompt! (Oh, and thanks for commenting about the ship name!)

I went for a bit of a younger Obi in this than last time. He’s 18 and still a padawan.

“Quiet Bant,” Obi-Wan regarded the nearby passenger without looking away from his task, “I’m busy.”

“You should be busy flying this ship,” Bant quipped back. “You’re the pilot of the group.” Obi-Wan let a huff escape his lips and undid the pleated hair in front of him, unsatisfied.

“You’re sixteen, Bant. You should know how to fly a ship.” He let his eyebrows knit together. “You really should wear your hair pulled back more, Master Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan added off-handedly. It really brings out your greys.” Bant huffed, and Qui-Gon let out an indignant noise and brought his hands back to feel at his own hair. Obi-Wan felt himself blushing as his master’s hands joined his own, and pushed down the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Bant when she shot him a taunting smirk.

“My what?” Qui-Gon interrupted, perturbed.

“Your grey hairs.” Obi-Wan stroked his hand through his master’s hair, gently easing the frizz from where the older man had mussed it. “They make you look distinguished.” He gathered up a small section at the bottom of Qui-Gon’s head, ignoring Bant’s knowing chuckle as they made a jump into hyperspace. He handed the majority of the hair before him to his master with the unspoken command to hold it out of the way, and began slowly and deliberately creating a dutch braid. The style would be difficult to recreate alone, since trying to work your own hair from the bottom up meant holding your arms at an awkward angle with no break, and also placed the majority of the hair not being used directly in the way.

“They make me look old, Obi-Wan.” His master sighed and leaned back against his legs. Obi-Wan ran his hands deliberately along the man’s scalp as he selected the next section of hair to add and was rewarded with a comfortable sigh.

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan smirked. “You already looked old.” Qui-Gon reached back and smacked at Obi-Wan’s calf chidingly.

“You should be more respectful of your elders then, padawan.”

“You’re right, Master,” Obi-Wan nodded, his tone mockingly reverent as he added more hair to the dutch braid, working his way up the scalp as slowly as he thought he could get away with. “What would you have me do? Kneel at your feet? Cater to your every whim? Carry your frail old bones off the spacecraft?”

“Alright, I’m out of here. I’m sure Master Tahl has more work for me in the engine room than you two.” Bant stood from her seat, rolling her eyes very pointedly in Obi-Wan’s direction. “We should be set until it’s time to drop out of hyperspace. Try not to get into too much trouble.” She walked out of the room with a disapproving huff.

“She doesn’t want to hang around an old-timer like me,” Qui-Gon sighed, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at his mock dejection.

“I suppose I’ll just have to be enough company for the both of us,” Obi-Wan responded, finally reaching the crown of Qui-Gon’s head and stealing the top half of the hair to twist into an elegant but loose bun. The dutch braid stuck out prominently along the back of Qui-Gon’s head, but the harshness was offset by the looseness of the rest of the style. Obi-Wan quite liked the effect. “All done, by the way.” Obi-Wan leaned back himself, stretching languidly. “And you look quite dashing, if I do say so myself.” He watched intently as Master Qui-Gon reached up to feel his styled hair, fingers tracing the braid deftly. Obi-Wan could imagine several other uses for those fingers.

“Allow me to return the favor.” Qui-Gon turned abruptly, now on his knees in front of Obi-Wan—who was trying very hard not to blush.

“You’re welcome to, Master Jinn, after you Knight me and wait a few years for me to grow it out.” The comment earned him a chuckle before Qui-Gon was reaching up and undoing his padawan braid.

“You’re braid is a mess, Obi-Wan. It needs to be redone.” His Master smiled up at him as he deliberately undid the tight braiding, and Obi-Wan focused very intently on self control as he fought the urge to lean forward and kiss the man. This was a bonding moment, and it wouldn’t do good to sully it with impure thoughts. Soon though, Qui-Gon was leaning up closer in order to see the formation of the braid behind his ear as he worked, and Obi-Wan was briefly struck by their height difference. Even with Obi-Wan seated in a chair and Qui-Gon kneeling on the floor, the man was able to draw himself up face to face. It almost made Obi-Wan glad he’d never made it past 5’10.

“I always used to hate washing this patch of hair when I was a padawan.” Qui-Gon looked at him mischievously as his hand brushed along his ear and neck. “I was always worried it was going to fall out.”

“I hate undoing the braid,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I want it to be in all the time, as a symbol that I belong to you.”

“You don’t need a braid to know that you’re my padawan, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon chuckled and continued his braiding, stopping periodically to smooth out the hair in order to prevent frizz or flyaways.

“It feels nice, though.” Obi-Wan wanted to turn his head to look at his master, but knew better than to do so while the other was working. “Having a physical reminder, I mean. I know that just knowing I’m your padawan should be enough, but sometimes when I’m in doubt I can feel it and remember that you chose me.” Qui-Gon was almost to the end of the braid now. Once he had moved out of the area behind the ear it became quick work.

“I’m sorry that I don’t always express my appreciation for you, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon tied off the end of the braid with a small piece of leather. “You are all I could ask for and more.” He ran his hand thoughtfully over Obi-Wan’s braid before standing, and Obi-Wan found himself standing as well, fully aware that he was about to do something exceedingly stupid. He reached his hand up around Qui-Gon’s neck, thumb brushing slowly along the braid he had been permitted to put there. With a small tug, he angled his master’s face down so that he could push himself upwards to kiss him.

Much to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he wasn’t immediately pushed back and told off. Instead, he felt a hand slip around his waist and another reach reverently for his padawan braid as the kiss was returned. He let out a gasp that was equal parts surprise and pleasure at the development, and quickly found the gasp turning into a moan as Qui-Gon took it as an invitation to slip his tongue into his mouth. The arm around his waist tightened and pulled up, and he found himself being pressed flush against his master with his head tilted at a decidedly submissive angle as the kiss was deepened. He writhed slightly, smiling a bit to show his pleasure at the development and doing his best to egg the other man on as he moved invitingly against him. Perhaps if he just—

“And here I was, thinking you two were the picture of a perfect master-padawan team.” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon split apart, startled as Master Tahl’s amused voice rang through the room. Obi-Wan searched his mind for any explanation at all for the elicit and decidedly immoral scene that Tahl had just walked in on, but she continued before he could settle on one. “Relax, I’m not going to turn you in to the Council or anything,” she waved her hand as she walked over to the controls. “I do however, need to double check the coordinates Bant input. Apparently the two perfectly capable pilots already in the cockpit were being unhelpful as well as obtuse. Now, which one of you is going to help the blind woman read these dials?”

“I will.” Obi-Wan shot forward immediately, giving his master a meaningful look as he moved to help check the navigation settings. They all looked fine to him and he felt a small, prideful smile touch him as he regarded Bant’s competence. Tahl clasped his shoulder amiably before leaning in close to him conspiratorially.

“I don’t care what you two do,” she stage whispered, loud enough for Qui-Gon to hear her as well. “Just don’t do it in the cockpit.”

[anythingobi]

Please give me prompts

I don’t have any finals tomorrow, so of course I’m spending tonight cuddled up and drawing/writing. I know this is a new blog and all, but shoot me a prompt! Specify if you want art or fic, or I’ll choose for you. You may end up getting both anyway if I feel like it though.

Any ship is good, or gen, so long as Obi-Wan is a part of it. Also, if someone could tell me if Commander Cody/Obi-Wan has a ship name that’d be awesome, because I may be obiqui trash at heart but those two are a solid pairing imo.

[anythingobi]

Hello! May I request a prompt? Quiobi with obiwan loosing his robe on a planet with colder weather. Thank you😘

Congrats! You’re my first prompt, and I absolutely love it! Here are my humble offerings:

Obi-Wan was significantly less annoyed by the situation than he should have been. On the one hand, he hated everything about Hoth. It was cold, and it was empty, and the way the sun reflected off of the snow made it difficult to keep his eyes open without feeling as if he was staring directly into the sun. His ship had crashed, and his cloak had been torn to shreds during a fight with some sort of lizard monster.

On the other hand, Hoth had been marked as a possible CIS remote base location, and due to the possibility of confrontation he had not been sent on the mission alone. Unfortunately he and his partner had split up, both heading in opposite directions in an effort to cover more ground. Being stranded on such a hostile planet with an inoperable ship was a precarious situation at best, and they needed to find something to allow them to either fix their ship or signal for help.

Currently, just struggling his way back to the ship was becoming difficult. His cloak had been heavy in anticipation of the harsh climate, but underneath he wore the mixture of traditional robes and various armored pieces that he had taken to since the beginning of the Clone Wars. While they allowed for freedom of movement and greatly complemented his fighting style, they were doing little for him now. He found himself bringing his hands up to his mouth to warm them with his breath as he slogged through the snow in an attempt to return to the ship. Their shelter wasn’t perfect, as they were unable to turn on any heat or life support and had long since become quite freezing itself, but it was shelter from the elements nonetheless.

His return was a slow process, and he could feel himself succumbing to the beginnings of hypothermia as he walked. Water had settled into his boots due to the high snow level, and there were various parts of his body that he could no longer feel. His hands rubbed along his beard as he stumbled unexpectedly, and he shuddered when he felt the ice crystals that had formed there. Finally, blessedly, he pitched himself against the entrance of the ship—feeling the cold from the metal seeping through his sleeve—and pounded on the door as best he could.

He realized he was falling before he’d realized he had closed his eyes, and he had the fleeting and entertaining thought that he probably shouldn’t have decided to lean on a door that he knew was about to be opened. Something between a groan and a laugh escaped his lips as he careened helplessly into the snow, and he knew it was unlikely that he’d be able to stand back up on his own. His thoughts were sluggish and he couldn’t feel large portions of his body, and the only conclusion he cared enough to draw with was that those things were bad.

Blessedly, he felt himself being lifted of the ground and carried into the ship, and he instinctually wrapped his arms around the bulk of the warm presence holding him—Qui-Gon. He was distantly aware that he was being spoken to and knew that it was probably important, but his brain was almost as numb as the rest of his body. If he focused on the voice he could distinguish what it was saying, but it meant not paying attention to anything else.

He was deposited onto one of the beds, and with an effort he listened to the words washing over him as he was handled. He belatedly realized that Qui-Gon was detailing his actions to him—telling him what he was doing and why—but his mind slipped from the words pouring over the moment Qui-Gon began undressing him. He lay limp as his boots were removed. His tunics. His pants. He found himself idly trying to move his own limb to assist, but was ultimately unable to be a productive part of the process. The moment his clothing was removed he was covered in blankets, and he let out a small sound of protest as Qui-Gon pulled away and he lost the comfort of his warmth.

“Patience, Obi-Wan,” he heard Qui-Gon respond, and moments later he felt the bed shift beside him and did his best to roll himself into the other man’s warmth. Qui-Gin helped him shift and soon they were helplessly tangled together with Obi-Wan burrowing his face into the crook of his old master’s neck. Moments later, he was drifting to sleep.

————————————————————

He woke to pain in his limbs and a hand carding through his hair, and found himself still wrapped around Qui-Gon. Thankful that the ability to think and process information had returned to him, he opened and shut his jaw a few times and found it blessedly mobile, and then he froze when he realized that by all physical observations he had just been mouthing at Qui-Gon’s neck. He froze for a moment, trying to gauge the man’s reaction before a shooting pain travelled up his leg and he automatically flinched in response.

“The pain is a good sign, Obi-Wan. It means you’re regaining feeling.” Qui-Gon continued running his hand through his hair and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but sigh and burrow in closer. He wondered how long he’d be able to play this off as craving body heat, rather than craving Qui-Gon’s body heat in particular.

“At least I can speak again.” He said gratefully into Qui-Gon’s neck. “It was as if my tongue was no longer connected to my brain.” He shifted uncomfortably as another shock of pain hit him. “Not that my brain was doing much work anyway, as muddled as it was.”

“What happened to your cloak?” Qui-Gon asked

“Some sort of… snow reptile.” Obi-Wan replied, fighting the urge to laugh. “Came out of nowhere.” Qui-Gon tightened his arm around his back protectively, pulling their cores closer together. “You’re warm.”

“You’re cold.” Qui-Gon ran his hand along his back and Obi-Wan shivered in a way that he wished he could blame on body temperature. He closed his eyes again, basking in the touch.

“I don’t mind,” he sighed, allowing himself to brush his hand along Qui-Gon’s side before settling it between them under the guise of warming it. “Better here with you, freezing in peace than out on another battlefield.”

“I can’t help but agree,” Qui-Gon parroted. He brought the arm that wasn’t on his back up to the back of his neck and began to gently move his thumb. Obi-Wan smiled sedately before pulling his head back enough to look Qui-Gon in the eyes.

“I’d rather be here than most places, actually.” He tilted his head, trying his best to gauge Qui-Gon’s reaction. He didn’t have to try very hard though, considering how quickly Qui-Gon’s lips were on his. Generally speaking that was a clear sign of approval, and he wasn’t about to question it. Instead he angled his head up and opened his mouth, giving a clear sign of his own approval as he brought his hand to twist serenely into Qui-Gon’s long hair.

The kiss was nice, although Obi-Wan found that his own tongue was still slightly sluggish and lamented the chance to showcase his talents. Qui-Gon picked up the slack, controlling the pace and intensity and allowing Obi-Wan to simply melt into him and be pulled along for the ride. By the time the kiss was broken they had managed to entwine themselves together so effectively that they could have been one person.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for so long, now. I thought you never would.” Obi-Wan let his eyes flutter closed as he spoke, content with feeling the presence of the man beside him.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he responded, hands resting delicately on his hip and chin. Obi-Wan shook his head and lunged in for another kiss.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he breathed into the mouth before him. “I’ve been enamored with you since I was a padawan.” Qui-Gon moved his hand into his hair and gripped it just tight enough to elicit a moan of affirmation before pulling apart.

“I’ve loved you for years,” he said, holding Obi-Wan’s hair to keep him from lunging at him again, “but right now we both need to get dressed.” Obi-Wan shot him a pleading look. They’d just confessed to each other and they were already conveniently disrobed. Why would they get dressed? Qui-Gon sent him a knowing look back. “My journey was a tad more successful than yours, I’m afraid. No snow lizards, but I did find the remains of another crashed ship not far from here. I was able to contact your battalion, and I doubt they’ll be much longer.” Obi-Wan felt his eyes go wide with elation at the news of rescue, and then at embarrassment from the idea of being discovered like this. There was no way he was going to be found naked in bed with his former master by the entirety of his troops. He began to untangle himself from Qui-Gon in an inelegant flurry of movement, and looked up again briefly, still flushed, before finally pulling his wits about him.

“We need to get dressed.”

[anythingobi]

I decided to do some shading. Hope y’all enjoy!

Send me a prompt if you want to. I do art and fic, depending on my mood.

[anythingobi]

Please give me writing/art prompts

Any ship or gen so long as Obi is in it

[anythingobi]

I’m new to this fandom, here’s a gift

Also please help me there are so many ship names and I tried to ask for prompts earlier and it wasn’t showing up in any of the tags