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jaskwritesthings · 12 days ago

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Established QuinObi Bingo: nightmares/dreaming

@quinobievents

rating: teen

tags & warnings: nightmares, sleepovers, found/made family

ao3

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The latest mission was exhausting and they return to the temple well past the midnight hour, Quinlan doesn’t bother looking at a chrono, he knows its a ridiculous hour by the feel of it alone. Aayla stumbles along at his side barely awake, she’s too big to carry around now and at an age where she’d pout if he tried. It makes him unreasonably sad, he misses being used as a climbing frame by his tiny Padawan, misses being able to gather her close for an affectionate hug whenever he pleased. Now she’s on her way to becoming a proper knight of the order and for all he’s proud of her, it does mean she, like the rest of her age group, no longer believe it’s ‘proper’ behaviour to seek out their Masters for comfort as they once did.

Which makes moments like this, where she’s too tired to argue, all the more precious as he tucks her close under one arm and directs her to their quarters.

Quinlan’s so focussed on memorising how adorable Aayla is and mourning his youth and how quickly time flies that he misses the approach of his partner. He’s so tired he’s just assumed the strengthening of their bond had to do with his return to the temple, not the fact that Obi-Wan appears to be actively seeking them out.

He’s surprised to stillness when Obi-Wan turns the corner and heads straight for them carrying Anakin in his arms.

Enviably, Anakin is still small enough- though no less fiercely independent- to be carried around and his face is buried in Obes neck, hands clutched tight in his tabards. At first Quinlan thinks the boy tuckered himself out in the training salles again or maybe fallen asleep among the hanger driods mid-upgrade but then he recalls the late hour and the fact that in an effort to emulate Aayla’s maturity Anakin too had taken to denying physical comfort for his master, much to Obi-Wan’s own dismay. He’s a little slow to notice, given his own exhaustion, but he does eventually take note of how miserable and desperate Obi-Wan looks and the frazzled anxious air buzzing around their bond.

Its not difficult to see why once they’re close enough, Anakin is clearly sniffling into Obi-Wan’s shoulder and his partner looks to be at his wits end as he rubs at the young Padawan’s back. Clearly given the late hour, they’d been circling the halls of the temple for a while in the vein hope of easing whatever is troubling the young boy. Nightmares, again, if Quinlan has to guess.

“Hey Obes, rough night?” Quinlan asks quietly, Obi-Wan winces, seeming to second guess seeking them out as he takes in their tired appearances.

“Quite, I’m sorry I know you’ve-”

Quinlan shakes his head before Obi-Wan even finishes his self recrimination, “Don’t worry about it. What can we do?”

Obi-Wan bites at his lip, holding back even as Quinlan projects as much care and acceptance through their bond. He raises his brow at Obi-Wan, encouraging him to ask for help. There’s a moment where he thinks Obi-Wan is going to apologise again and try and turn and flee rather than ask for help and frankly Quinlan’s not looking forward to hunting his lover down in the dead of night and bullying him to accepting assistance as is their usual back and forth, when Anakin hiccups on a quiet sob and Obi-Wan crumbles almost immediately. Quinlan sends a quiet thanks to the Force and Anakin for making it easier on them all and wonders if Anakin’s at the right age and capability to help gang up on Obi-Wan to get the ridiculously independent man to accept more help, especially if Obes gives in so easily where little Ani is involved. A thought for another night when the boy isn’t leaking a large amount of misery into the surrounding Force.

“Would you both like some company tonight?” Obi-Wan asks, unsubtly keeping Anakin’s state out of the request to spare the boy the embarrassment that only growing children can feel.

Quinlan smiles warmly, “A sleepover would be perfect, right Aayla?”

His Padawan hums weakly in response, eyes still shut as she sways into his side without any of her usual grace. Obi-Wan smiles at her softly and offers a truly grateful look to Quinlan.

“Come on let’s put the kids to bed,” Quinlan urges wrapping an arm around his partner’s shoulder, it let’s him ruffle Anakin’s hair a little before leaving his hand gently on the boys head, feeling the faint echoes of grief-scared-sad through his skin that cracks his heart a little.

They meander back to Quinlan’s apartments, a strange little parade of exhaustion. It doesn’t take them long thankfully and he’s grateful that the apartment’s relatively clean as they arrive, not wanting to deal with any mess as they get settled for the night, or at least what’s left of the night.

Without need for discussion, Quinlan waves the furniture out of the living space while Obi-Wan hovers his mattress and Aayla’s out of the adjoining rooms and into the newly freed up area, along with all the blankets and pillows as well. It forms a familiar and cosy nest for them all that will hopefully soothe Anakin’s lingering night terrors.

Aayla wastes no time once things are settled and falls flat on her face half on the mattress causing Quinlan to snort on a quiet laugh at her antics.

It draws Anakin out of the curve of Obi-Wan’s neck in curiosity and once he spots his Twi’lek Padawan sibling he starts giggling, drawing a soft and heartwarming smile from Obi-Wan. Quinlan blames his tiredness for the way he stares at Obes a little lovestruck. He’s usually a little less obvious about things but he’s exhausted so he stares until Obi-Wan catches him and blushes all the way to his roots as he finally notices the soppy feelings projected through their bond.

With an undignified worm like shuffle Aayla scoots her way onto the mattress properly, eventually deeming herself comfortable enough to roll over and hold her arms out to receive Anakin who goes easily and with a few sleepy quiet laughs. The kids fall into a slumber quickly enough, surrounded by the safety and warmth of one another’s presence, utterly content and happy, and Obi-Wan breathes a sigh of relief as Anakin’s leaking suffering finally fades into the Force.

“Nightmares?” Quinlan asks quietly, somewhat unnecessarily, they’ve been here enough times that he really doesn’t need to ask.

“His mind has begun replacing Qui-Gon with me on the end of the Sith’s blade,” Obi-Wan says and Quinlan rapidly releases that lingering anxiety into the Force. Last thing they need is the Padawan’s sensing Quinlan’s distress because that was too close to being his partner’s fate. Far too close. Quinlan’s had a few of his own similarly themed nightmares surrounding that so he’s completely unsurprised by Anakin’s. He reaches out, physically and mentally, to touch Obi-Wan and assure himself he’s here, safe and unharmed. Obi-Wan reaches back, carefully cataloguing all of Quinlan’s new bruises and stiffness in return as if to remind Quin that neither of them are exempt from the trails and dangers of the Galaxy and nothing is guaranteed. A fact he knows well enough, he just wishes sometimes things were different.

“You’re important to him,” You’re important to me, he doesn’t say but the softness in Obi-Wan’s eyes assures him he knows. “Its understandable, the Sith were the monster under the bed for the temple for the longest time…the kid’s got first hand experience on how real a threat they are again.”

“I wish the Senator- the Chancellor I mean, hadn’t told him how Qui-Gon died. It should have been me or the council that explained that too him,” Obi-Wan mutters and Quinlan can’t help but agree. The new chancellor seems to have hit the ground running in the Senate, it just remains to be seen exactly which direction he’s running and why he seems so interested in spending time with Anakin. The kid did aid in saving his home planet but really the repeated requests for luncheons seems a touch overreaching for a career politician. If he’d been asking for Obi-Wan that would have been more understandable, his partner did kill the first Sith in generations, that comes with a little prestige that does wonders for the political circuit. The fact that he seems to be focused on the young boy leaves a bad taste in Quinlan’s mouth, Obi-Wan’s too given his continuing, polite but firm, rejections. He hopes the interest dies out soon enough, for both their sakes.

“We’ll work on it,” Quinlan promises, jaw cracking with a yawn as he finishes speaking.

Obi-Wan tuts, easily making himself at home in Quinlan’s space and helping him out of his heavy robes, “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, you need rest.”

“So do you,” Quinlan reminds him as he lets Obi-Wan fuss. As his partner hangs his robe, Quinlan removes his and Aayla’s boots before getting settled on the makeshift bed alongside the children. He waves his fingers at Obi-Wan until the man takes them with an amused huff, allowing himself to be tugged down onto the mattress so that they bookend their Padawans.

“Rest Quin,” Obi-Wan says softly, fingers loosely tangling with with Quinlan’s over the kids, projecting safe-love-sleep through their skin and bond both.

“Night love,” Quinlan responds as he dips below the waves of sleep surrounded by warmth, light and love.

#star wars #obiquin #quinobi #Established QuinObi Bingo

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jaskwritesthings · 13 days ago

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Established QuinObi Bingo: late night

@quinobievents

rating: teen

tags & warnings: domestic boyfriends, date night, pre-canon

ao3

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Obi-Wan startles awake the moment a hand lands on his mouth. It’s a split second of fear that snaps through him before Quinlan’s presence is practically smothering him in the force, an apology as well as an assurance that he’s safe.

“Quin what-?” Obi-Wan snaps as Quinlan let’s him, looking a little chastised by Obi-Wan’s initial reaction.

“Shush, come on,” Quinlan hushes him rather than apologising though Obi-Wan can feel it. Instead he throws some clothes at Obi-Wan’s head rather than leaving him be to sleep.

“Quin, its the middle of the night,” Obi-Wan groans, he’s a few days back from a gruelling mission where Qui-Gon had decided the Force wanted them to assist the rebels planetside, turning a simple diplomatic oversight mission into yet another planetary revolution. Obi-Wan has lost count of how many that is now, they’re on track for a record he really doesn’t want to beat. The mission should have been three days of boring mediation, instead it took three months of gorilla style warfare that was far too familiar to Obi-Wan before things settled enough for Qui-Gon to deem their mission a success. Neither he nor the council agreed on that but his master didn’t seem to care or notice.

It all added up to Obi-Wan needing all the rest he could get while they stayed at the temple, a chance to heal the reopened wounds. Not take part in whatever harebrained scheme Quinlan had cooked up this time.

“Its barely one am Obes, come on,” Quinlan huffs as he waves his hands at Obi-Wan to dress quickly.

Obi-Wan sighs and accepts his fate, there are few things that can match the dogged persistence of Quinlan Vos and he is too tired to try. He’ll never admit out loud anyway but he’s curious about what Quinlan has planned. Plus he missed his partner and perhaps some time with the carefree Kiffar will ease the lingering grief he carries better than attempting to get a full night of sleep.

The outfit he’s thrown at Obi-Wan and the one Quinlan’s currently sporting are absolutely not the normal Jedi attire. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Quinlan to avoid letting the other boy realise how much he wants to look at him and just gets his cocksure smug grin in response, as though he could hide from Quinlan.

With another drawn out sigh, Obi-Wan shrugs out of his night clothes to slip into the tight leather trousers that match Quinlan’s own and a wrap around shimmering pale blue shirt. Quinlan, as is becoming his norm, wears a dark shiny sleeveless vest with an indecent amount of chest on display that suitably distracts Obi-Wan. Not that Quin isn’t enjoying his own view, he watches Obi-Wan unsubtly with hooded eyes, leaning lazily against the door frame. He’s not bothering to hide the low buzz of desire dancing through their bond like static electricity and Obi-Wan can’t help the answering arousal that it wakens in him, doesn’t bother to try really. He enjoys the way Quinlan watches him and how he whistles quietly in appreciation once Obi-Wan is done dressing, pride is a failing but a little never hurt anybody and it’s nice to be desired by someone so desirable themselves.

“Come on then love,” Quinlan says, holding out his hand for Obi-Wan to take.

With a roll of his eyes Obi-Wan puts his hand and trust in Quinlan easily, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Quinlan winks, quickly ducking out of the Jinn-Kenobi apartment and racing down the hall. His amusement is contagious and though they both know there’s no way the Guardians are unaware of their movement and they’re old enough to freely come and go, they still act like younglings sneaking out for the first time, giggling and shushing one another as they dart from shadow to shadow to the hanger bay.

It’s empty for the time of night, a handful of ships and speeder’s dotted around, some clearly in the middle of maintenance. Quinlan drags him to the far end of the hanger, where a new speeder bike waits.

Quinlan jumps onto the bike and Obi-Wan follows as he usually does.

He’s barely on when his partner hits the accelerator shooting out of the hanger like they’re being chased and they firing off into the Coruscanti night.

“Can I know our destination now?” Obi-Wan asks, fighting the wind whipping around them to be heard.

Quinlan laughs, “Relax, have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“Should I ask Madame Nu to alphabetise or organise the examples by date?” Obi-Wan teases though he knows that Quinlan never has truly lead him into trouble or danger and never will. The fact that they seem to attract trouble is an entirely different thing.

Quinlan pinches his hand in retaliation before steering them further from the temple and deeper into the planet wide city. Obi-Wan huffs and snuggles up against Quinlan’s back, letting the wind and sway of the bike through traffic lull him into a soft doze as he relaxes, content if they do nothing else but travel the traffic lanes for the rest of the night together. It’s peaceful and warm enough to just enjoy the open air and the ever present press of Quinlan against him both in body and mind.

Soon enough though Quin’s pulling back on the speed, directing them towards a somewhat empty pad in the lower levels, one Obi-Wan recognises almost instantly.

“Treating me to Dex’s?” he asks unnecessarily, a bit excited, as he hops off the bike. Dex’s is a rare enough treat and he’s missed the Besalisk.

Quinlan grins as he gets off the bike and crowds into Obi-Wan’s space, a possessive hand indecently curled near the base of Obi-Wan’s spine, reigniting the spark from earlier that had dulled to a warm ember during their ‘escape’ from the temple.

“Just ensuring your stomach is lined for the rest of the nights festivities,” he whispers against Obi-Wan’s lips, pulling away before Obi-Wan can close the gap. Obi-Wan frowns after being denied making Quinlan chuckle before he takes pity on Obi-Wan ducking in for a quick kiss. “Besides, you need a decent meal.”

He pinches Obi-Wan’s arse getting a smack on the arm for his actions.

Dex, as always, is delighted to see them. He pulls Obi-wan and Quinlan into a many armed tight hug before shooing them into a nearby booth with the promise of bringing them food soon enough.

Dinner is a quiet affair, not surprising. Dex’s food is delicious and requires their full and complete attention to enjoy throughly, what little they do talk about is nothing of serious depth, they cover the recent temple gossip Obi-Wan has missed out on and Quinlan catches him up on his clan mates coming and goings as well. The only real thing of note being Bant being utterly convinced that councillor and Master, Mace Windu, somehow has being carrying on a secret love affair with a Mandalorian.

“Why? How?” Obi-Wan asks incredulously as he finishes his food.

“No idea, she jumped on the idea after Knight Depa brought him some of those trashy HoloNovels while he was holed up in the halls recently,” Quinlan answers, mouth still full, Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to scold him for his manners, its a battle he’s conceded long ago, that one Obi-Wan leaves to Tholme to deal with.

“Firstly is Master Windu alright?” Obi-Wan asks.

Quinlan nods and thankfully swallows before answering the unasked questions, “Bad Shatterpoint, knocked him out in the council chambers apparently. Took a few days to recover, probably needed less but you know what the healers are like.”

“I wonder what happened…but that still doesn’t answer why a bunch of HoloNovels would-”

“They were those Mando ones, you know with the fainting Twi’Lek on the cover, the damsel in the arms of an armoured Mando, there’s like a hundred of them with the some variation of the same cover but it’s all the same,” Quinlan snorts and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes because he is quite familiar with them thanks to his clan-mates. Ever since he’d come back from that mission to Mandolore he’d received one of those Force awful books as a present from one of his clan-mates whenever they found one on a mission.

He’d read two of them. One, to give it a chance, the second was to confirm whether he was right of despise the whole genre. He was right and he had opinions about it.

“Not a single one of those is an accurate representation of Mandolorian culture. They paint them as little more than barbarians rather than engaging in the rich- what?” Obi-Wan stalls in his usual rant when he catches sight of Quinlan watching him with a soft expression. He feels out the bond to see why he’s earned such a look and just receives Quinlan’s adoration and amusement in response.

“Nothing, just love when you get fired up,” Quinlan smiles and ordinarily it would be a weak attempt at flirting but he sounds and feels genuine and that makes Obi-Wan flush to his roots, his face and hair matching for the moment.

“Yes well,” Obi-Wan clears his throat awkwardly, “they’re terrible books. I’m appalled at Master Windu’s taste in literature but that doesn’t actually confirm he has a secret lover on Mandolore.”

Quinlan shrugs, scooting out of the booth, “You know Bant, it’s been a slow few months in the halls so she’s latched onto the first interesting thing available. Frankly I think the libido is surgically removed when they take a seat on the council so I doubt Windu’s getting any action anyway.”

“Master Mundi has multiple spouses and offspring so I think there’s a flaw in your theory,” Obi-Wan reminds him as he scoots his way out of the booth as well.

“The exception, do you really think Yoda fucks?” Quinlan asks knowing the language and the mental image alone will unsettle Obi-Wan as he so often enjoys doing, it seems to be his partner’s favourite pastime to embarrass and tease Obi-Wan until he’s a new shade of red. He hands over the credits and they wave their goodbyes to a busy Dex before ducking back out into the night and meandering towards the pad and their waiting bike.

Obi-Wan wrinkles his nose, the idea of his Great-Grandmaster in such a position is distinctly off-putting no matter how natural an act it is, he won’t let Quinlan win this round though, smoothing his face into something innocent he replies, “Well Master Yaddle is on the council to and they are a compatible species-”

“Urgh!” Quinlan shivers dramatically dancing away from Obi-Wan like he can physically escape the idea making Obi-Wan laugh out loud. “You are terrible love! Terrible! I don’t know if I should take you to your next treat.”

Obi-Wan hums, looking at the bike, as much as he wants to enjoy the rest of the evening, he’s very tired now, a good warm meal making it significantly harder to muster up the energy for anything more than a nap. Sleep beckons him more than the potential dance floor Quinlan is no doubt planning.

“As much as I believe it will be enjoyable…” Obi-Wan trails off, reluctant to truly put end to their evening together. Quinlan softens and steps easily into Obi-Wan’s orbit, pressing their foreheads together.

“Jinn’s antics really wore you out huh?”

Obi-Wan sighs and lets his old grief and exhaustion filter through the bond they share. He allows some of the overlapping memories to echo through their touching skin, tucking the worst of them behind his shields. Quinlan frowns.

“You should have said-”

“I enjoyed this, I enjoy spending time with you,” Obi-Wan defends cupping Quinlan’s face and drawing him into a chaste kiss, making sure that Quinlan can feel his gratitude and contentment wrapped in his love. They part with a soft sigh.

“Let’s get you home, I can tuck you in,” Quinlan offers sounding salacious to probably anybody else but Obi-Wan knows that he won’t push for anything more than a cuddle.

“Tomorrow night we can finish this?” Obi-Wan asks hopefully as Quinlan tangles their fingers together tugging him back to the speeder bike.

Quinlan winks, “I promise, you’re not getting out of it that easily.”

#star wars #quinobi #obiquin #Established QuinObi Bingo

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jaskwritesthings · 14 days ago

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Established QuinObi Bingo: nostalgia

@quinobievents

rating: teen

tags & warnings: canon compliant, grief/mourning, post kenobi series, reconciliation,

ao3

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Luke is playing some kind of keep-away tag game with a little droid, Obi-Wan’s not entirely sure of the goal or even the rules. But children rarely follow logic or even have ends to their little games, the goal is simply to have fun and it appears Luke is managing just fine on that point. His laughter echos across the desert, bright and happy and it loosens something in Obi-Wan’s chest.

He hears more than feels Quinlan’s approach behind him. Their bond is somewhat tenuous these days, buried under grief and loss and nowhere near the strength and openness it once was. They’re…trying, he guesses though he’s not entirely sure just what they are anymore. Obi-Wan hadn’t expected to see Quinlan again in this life and had been rather startled when his old partner had quite literally stumbled into him in Mos Eisley just three months ago on the trail of a rumour about a Force sensitive child. The rumour had turned out to be false and Quinlan had decided to stay for the time being, equal parts distant and clingy. Obi-Wan understood it to a degree, he felt the same. So desperate for what once was but all too aware of the oppressive weight of their new present. He wonders if he’ll lose Quinlan too, not to death here but by the sheer obstacles between them now. It leaves Obi-Wan feeling out of sorts as he waits for Quinlan’s ultimate decision, unsure if his pleas or even his feelings are welcome anymore and if they’ve simply fallen into bed out of sheer habit rather than anything more on Quinlan’s side of things.

“He’s his spitting image,” Quinlan says, groaning as he folds himself down behind Obi-Wan, bracketing him with his old knees. The words are devoid of anything kind but also lack the anger that might have been found in its stead, though that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Quinlan was a Shadow, he knows how to hide his true thoughts and feelings and Obi-Wan no longer feels like he has a right to listen into that truth through their bond.

“His sister looks like Padme,” Obi-Wan states, just to say something in the wake of the void that Anakin’s memory now creates.

“That might be trouble down the line…she’s not exactly out of the limelight, Vader may well take notice,” Quinlan mutters and the anxiety rises in Obi-Wan’s chest again.

“He could…but Anakin was often oblivious to the most obvious things,” Obi-Wan defends, weakly because they are playing with fire by waving a look-a-like of Padme under the Empire’s nose like that. Vader is Anakin but also…not. Obi-Wan can only predict his moves so far, the boy he raised is lost now. What remains is the echo of the worst of him. Everything Obi-Wan was blind too.

Quinlan snorts, loud enough for Obi-Wan to know its intentional, a way to draw him out of his darker thoughts, “Never seemed to notice we were an item.”

“Perhaps I should have sat him down,” Obi-Wan mutters in lieu of recuperating the teasing Quinlan’s attempting. He often wonders, in the dark and cold of Tatooine’s nights, if he could have prevented Anakin’s fall by being…more. More open, more affectionate, just…more. He never has an answer by the time the suns break the horizon, he may never have one really.

“He walked in on us naked in bed, asked what we were doing and took the answer ‘sparring’ as truth, nothing short of a parade would have got through to that boy,” Quinlan chuckles and its a little forced, he’s trying to lighten the mood, trying so hard, but the ease they used to carry has been eroded by grief and time like a sandstorm slowly rubbing a rock smooth. All the ways they used to click together have changed and finding the new shape of themselves, both together and apart, is taking more effort then Obi-Wan expected.

He pulls himself away from darker thoughts and focuses on the here and now, releasing some of that never ending bitter grief into the trickle the Lightside of the Force has become, “Pray Leia and Luke get their mother’s intelligence.”

It startles a bark of clear joyful laughter from Quinlan, shaking them both as they settle a little easier against one another. Obi-Wan basks in it, the closeness and intimacy of Quinlan’s presence, so often he retreats when he reaches out so moments like these that would have been granted without a second thoughts years ago are rarer than water on Tatooine now.

The silence settles on them as they watch Luke jump and dodge around a little droid until his Aunt calls him inside for midday meal and rest.

“I worry…” Obi-Wan starts and then stops, he used to be able to share his insecurities with Quinlan without judgement. But that was before his inadequacies as a Master, as a father figure, cost the Jedi dearly, cost Quinlan dearly. Now he’s not sure if his words are welcome. Quinlan sighs as Obi-Wan lets the words fade back into the swirling storm in his chest.

“We all failed love, you can’t keep carrying the weight of it all solely on your own shoulders,” Quinlan offers gently, rubbing a hand up and down Obi-Wan’s arm.

“I failed him,” Obi-Wan whispers, quick and sharp, he wishes he could take the words back immediately but they’re already out, they’ve already been heard and Obi-Wan feels a terrible guilt thump heavily into his stomach as he burdens Quinlan with them.

“No love…he failed you,” Quinlan says gently, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan slowly, as if expecting Obi-Wan to push him away.

He should. He should push those arms he’s never stopped dreaming about away, deny the words, deny the comfort. It was his responsibility to raise Anakin. He failed Anakin in a hundred different ways.

But he can’t help but feel slightly vindicated by Quinlan’s words, born of his own anger and hatred and incorrect as they might be, a part of Obi-Wan wants to believe them. Wants to hate Anakin just a little for not living up to his expectations. It’s not even the prophecy that bothers him the most, its just the simple act of being good and decent and not…what he became. How did he fall so far, how did Obi-Wan fail so badly? Obi-Wan put his faith and love into Anakin and he was betrayed. Anakin failed him there, even if Obi-Wan will never admit it out loud.

He lets Quinlan rest his head against his as they watch the young boy duck into the homestead and out of sight for now.

“What if I fail them?” Obi-Wan whispers, giving voice to his fear that haunts his every step on this dusty hot planet.

“Then we fail…but we will do our best and that’s all we can do,” Quinlan swears, holding Obi-Wan tightly, almost painfully even.

Obi-Wan can’t accept that, still feels the need to rig the board in their favour, to push himself to the extremes to make it work because the alternative is too horrific to contemplate. Instead he latches on to the one thing he can, a fluttering hope he’s carried, hidden away deep inside the longer Quinlan’s stayed with him, “We?”

Quinlan stills. And Obi-Wan recognises it almost instantly, surprising himself enough to seek out further confirmation by subtly peeking at their bond. He finds he’s right, he didn’t think he could still read Quinlan so well but apparently he can, it warms his heart a little to realise that not everything is lost between. The knot of tension and anxiety he’s carried these past few months untangles as he realises, Quinlan like Obi-Wan is afraid of being rejected, of being denied a place in one another’s lives after it was so easily granted and assumed for so long. He’s afraid to loose Obi-Wan as much Obi-Wan fears loosing him.

Obi-Wan breathes a sigh of relief and unclenches his strangle hold on his end of their bond, letting his own tentative emotions filter through, slowly at first, a gentle question of whether or not they’ll be accepted. Quinlan freezes and then just as quickly relaxes, wrapping himself physically and mentally around Obi-Wan in an instant, holding him tightly as the bond flares open and everything they’ve held back collides like waves against a shoreline. It’s a joint mix of need, concern, fear, grief and most importantly, love. The same love that Obi-Wan has been able to rely on since his youngling days, unchanged and as solid a foundation as it ever was. He’s aware that he’s weeping but can’t find it in him to stop as he dives head first into Quinlan and basks.

It’s a long time before they untangle enough to become two separate people once more, still clinging to one another but pulled back enough to exist again, much as that existence hurts.

“So we?” Obi-Wan asks, feeling lighter.

“Of course ‘we’ you fool, have the two suns cooked your brain?” Quinlan sniffs thickly into the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and Obi-Wan reaches behind him to cup Quinlan’s cheek. He’s unsurprised by how quickly Quinlan turns to press a desperate kiss into his dry palm.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Obi-Wan chuckles just as thickly.

Quinlan laughs lightly for a moment before pausing, his presence in the force full of mirth, “Remember when I thought Anakin was out of his mind because he apparently went hunting with Yoda?”

Obi-wan frowns for a second before the memory hits and he laughs, “To be fair no one believed it until we all saw him and Yoda chasing frogs around the fountains.”

It had been baffling to observe the Grandmaster of the Jedi on all fours like a tooka stalking a few frogs bouncing around the edges of the pools and fountains inside the temple. Anakin had been chasing his own frogs and it had been a beautiful moment full of childlike joy until his desert born and raised Padawan had slipped into one of the deeper pools and panicked loudly in both sound and Force.

He’d plucked Anakin from the pool quickly and it had been one of the few times that Anakin had clung to him, seeking him out for comfort and safety. Obi-Wan hadn’t realised at the time how rare that would become. He remembers it fondly, wishes he’d clung harder to the boy, instead of trying to maintain a detached distance.

“Still not sure I believe it happened and it wasn’t just a fever dream born of being under these damn suns too long,” Quinlan whined, glaring up at the stars baking the world.

“Simpler times,” Obi-Wan says softly, his mood darkening a little again.

“They will be again,” Quinlan sighs, holding Obi-Wan tightly, a promise neither of them is sure they can keep but at least they have one another to try.

#star wars #quinobi #obiquin #Established QuinObi Bingo

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jaskwritesthings · 15 days ago

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Established QuinObi Bingo: gloves

@quinobievents

rating: mature

tags & warnings: canon complient, masturbation, force bond, intersex obi-wan, memory sex, voyerism

ao3

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Quinlan returns to his apartments with slumped shoulders. The rooms are clean but empty. Which is what he’d been looking forward to avoiding, unfortunately outside forces and just bad luck have once again conspired to leave his rooms devoid of the warmth of any other sentient, specially his Padawan, his partner or even the loose canon that is the chosen one and his little Padawan too. He pauses in the doorway, too soul tired for this and seriously considering just wandering down the halls, keying in the code for Obes rooms and rather pathetically wrapping himself in the fading memory of his lover by sleeping in his bed.

Quinlan decides there’s no one around to really judge him for his pining and is about to do just that, when he catches sight of a box on the caf table. Not something he left behind and Aayla can’t keep a surprise or secret from him so she would have commed minutes after leaving a gift, too excited for him to know about it. He wanders into the room, curiosity pausing his plans momentarily, to pine like one of the heroines of Bant’s ridiculous romance holo’s that he will refuse to admit even under interrogation and torture that he quite enjoys.

When Quinlan picks up the small thin box with his bare hands he gets weak impressions of Obi-Wan that make him smile for the first time in what feels like weeks.

It’s just a fading echo, he must have left the box some time ago, but there’s enough to pick up a bit of that classic, well hidden, teasing mischief of Obi-Wan’s and just a touch of embarrassment, that feel of cheeks burning and a heart rate that kicks up a notch that gets Quinlan’s own heart racing just a little.

It’s not Quinlan’s life day and it’s not an anniversary. He has a brief moment of fear as he wonders if it is an anniversary and he’s forgotten but as he runs through the list of important moments in their relationship he comes up blank.

So it’s a gift ‘just because��. Which is just like Obes and makes his throat feel a little tight.

Quinlan had hoped that he and Obi-Wan would be on leave in the temple at the same time, have a rare moment to be them and not generals or masters, just them, together, at peace. But the universe and the war have conspired against them once more and all he has is their shared disappointment in a handful of comms and the empty promise of something as soon as they’re both in the same sector of space again.

Quinlan doesn’t let his hopes rise. They haven’t been very lucky thus far. He misses Obi-Wan fiercely, sees him in the HoloNet and the propaganda enough but it’s not remotely the same as being in the same room as his partner, being able to touch him and feel him.

Its not enough, not nearly enough but they can’t do anything about it but hope.

For now, as he planned, he’ll just have to content himself with the echo of his lover. A fading memory held by the brief touch of his things but a little of Obi-Wan regardless, better than nothing.

Quinlan opens the gift and finds a plain set of soft leather gloves. His usual, handmade by an artisan in the lower levels who still treats the craft with respect and care.

He plucks up one of the gloves, slightly disappointed in the lacklustre ordinary gift, he’d hoped for something a bit more and then the memory hits him full on between the eyes with the heat of a blaster bolt, so solid and real it physically shakes him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have nearly enough time to dedicate to this as I’d hoped, Padawans and Grandpadawans can and will interrupt at any moment so my apologies darling this will have to be quick,” Obi-Wan whispers into the glove, lips practically kissing the leather before he does kiss the palm and that’s when Quinlan realises his lover is wearing the gloves. He takes a steadying breath, filtering through the slight embarrassment and longing mixed with the deep affection and a surprising amount of arousal.

He has a moment to wonder exactly what Obi-Wan has planned when the red head slips his gloved hands into his trousers and-

Oh.

Well that answers that question and Quinlan settles in for the show quite happily. The memory is made stronger, more intense by Obi-Wan’s command of the Force, making the impression practically permanently infused into the weave of the gloves, something he can come back to time and time again without the details fading much to Quinlan’s absolute delight.

And what details there are, Quinlan licks his lips as he enjoys the rush of the memory, lets it settle over him and around him. He feels the cold slip of lubricant that Obi-Wan must have lathered onto the gloves before he began, can feel the way Obi-wan, a little gingerly, still a bit embarrassed by what he’s doing, but determined none the less, wrap his fingers around his small hardening cock. He starts to stroke the sensitive flesh, even fondling the singular testicle a little absentmindedly, while the other hand squeezes between his still clothed legs seeking out and finding the folds hidden there. Obes has never been one for vaginal penetration, its always been uncomfortable for him but the folds are sensitive enough to the touch when Obi-Wan is in the right mood and it seems he doesn’t have the time to dedicate to fingering his anus instead as they would usually do. A pity, its so rare that Obi-Wan puts on a show, mostly because neither of them have the patience to see it through when they’re in the same room together, too desperate for one another after too long apart.

Quinlan sinks fully into the memory, a rarity in itself, something he wouldn’t really allow himself outside of the temple or even with most objects really but this is Obi-Wan. He trusts him completely. So he lets himself feel everything, lets his senses glut on the echos Obi-Wan has imprinted in the leather.

Its not just the physical, as always, Obi-Wan is an overachiever and by the Force does Quinlan love that about his partner right now.

Quinlan could get off easily on the physical memory alone. That familiar little hitch of Obi-Wan’s breath as he struggles to stay quiet enough to not draw the attention of his Padawan and Grandpadawan who may be moving around just beyond the closed door, reminding Quinlan of every time he’s managed to pull Obes into a closet for something a little racy or dangerous.

There’s the racing of his heart that Quinlan can feel echo in his own heartbeat and the way Obes hands shake as he grows closer to the orgasmic edge he’s chasing with rough hard tugs and swipes of his fingers, time alone too short for anything sweeter or slower. Force damned Quinlan wants to take this man apart inch by inch if only they had more than a handful of free minutes to themselves.

He feels the heat licking under Obi-Wan’s skin like its his own and shivers in unison with his partner. The heat burns through them both chasing away the cold of the empty room and lube between Obes legs. He feels the way Obi-Wan licks his lips, the desperation in the way he rolls himself into his own hands, arching his back just so. A familiar move that never fails to drive Quinlan mad with desire. He’s almost undone when Obi-Wan cries out for him quietly, a faint plea of his name whispered into the air.

All of that alone would be enough, more than enough really, but Obi-Wan has weaved his emotions into the memory too and Quinlan is filled to bursting with all of that as well, mimicking what he’d get through their bond if he was in the same room as Obi-Wan, instead of half a galaxy away.

Nothing is unfamiliar to him. He knows each and every emotion as if they were his own because they often are. It’s the same ache of missing him, a constant hum like a pulled muscle occasionally throbbing with pain in his chest every time he’s reminded of Quinlan. The lust buzzing under his skin like a quick flash fever, the desire for Quinlan’s hands, his mouth, his cock, bringing tears to his eyes with the sheer want of it. All wrapped up in love. Love so brilliant bright and warm it’s a guiding star in the dark of the galaxy that Quinlan looks to in the darkest moments, so sure and steady that ancient wayfarers could have mapped hyperspace lanes to it confidently for decades, probably a century or two.

Obi-Wan crests over the edge far too soon for Quinlan’s liking, he wants the memory to last forever, he hears the desperate groan of Quinlan’s own name from Obi-Wan’s sweet lips, coaxing Quinlan over as well leaving them both panting and spent in the aftermath, parsecs apart but together again.

“Well, I hope this provides some comfort until we can meet again,” Obi-Wan mumbles after a minute of enjoying the haze of his orgasm, far too put together for the situation if you asked Quinlan. He nuzzles at the seam of one of the gloves, the push of affection and concern in the gentle action, “Stay safe out there Quin, may the force be with you love.”

Its clearly his intended farewell for the show but Quinlan stays in the memory, clinging to the remaining echos of Obi-Wan’s presence a little desperately. Nowhere near as strong as the previous memories but its still Obi-Wan, still a crumb of his partner. He watches as Obi-Wan cleans the gloves gently, reverently kisses the leather one final time as he tucks them into their box and then and only then does Quinlan let go of the memory.

He’s unsurprised that his breath is a little shaky once he’s back in the present moment. That was by far one of, if not the most, intense psychometric vision he’s had ever.

Quinlan flops down on the sofa, letting his weak knees succumb to gravity as he gets used to being in his own body and mind once again. He wants Obi-Wan so badly, can practically taste him in the air, he aches for him. He can’t have him though which cools some of that lingering warmth, Obes is planets away and will be for far too long. So Quinlan tugs his comm out of his pocket instead.

May the force be with you too love, he types out to Obi-Wan, it doesn’t feel nearly enough to encompass the love and gratitude he feels for his partner, how much he misses him but his mind is rather empty currently.

Rest well love, comes the cheeky response through the comm and their bond despite the distance and Quinlan chuckles, holding the gloves to his face and breathing in the lingering scent of Obi-Wan’s musk and letting his contentment and lingering arousal filter back to his partner.

#star wars #quinobi #obiquin #Established QuinObi Bingo

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jaskwritesthings · 18 days ago

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hellooo, how about sunlight for the wip guessing game? 👀

a swing and a miss my friend, sorry, surprisingly no sunlight in any of my wips right now

#jask answers #ask games

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jaskwritesthings · 18 days ago

Text

Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

#ask games

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jaskwritesthings · 19 days ago

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♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap.

Caleb/molly

apologies for the lateness of this my buddy, lots been happening, hope you enjoy it

---

“So lock me up…mmm…and sock me up…” Molly sang sleepily, the song little more than a mumble as he smacked his lips dryly, his head felt too heavy to move as he rested it over the back of the lounge they’d taken over. His whole body felt heavy, really. Molly couldn’t tell you when he’d last opened his eyes, they’d closed at some point and were refusing to open again despite his best intentions.

The library was lovely and warm, quiet and boring.

Perfect conditions to send a former circus performer turned adventurer off into a lengthy nap. The only reason he had yet to succumb to the sweet siren song of sleep was that he was determined to keep Caleb company. Though he knew that partner wouldn’t really notice, lost in his work as he was, and he would have been perfectly fine to explore the shelves upon shelves of Zadash’s library alone, but Molly hadn’t wanted him to be alone. He enjoyed spending time with Caleb and was aware that Caleb could become lost in his own head if it was allowed so, two birds, one trip to the library…or something to that effect, he was fighting sleep after all.

And it wasn’t so bad, it was just unfortunate that they’d been here long enough and the lounge was surprisingly comfortable and Caleb had gone from answering questions to silently contemplating the answers of the universe somewhere in between that, so now Molly was fighting the urge to nod off, by singing to himself.

Quietly, of course, he didn’t want to disturb his partner who had laid himself out, head in Molly’s lap and gaze fixed on the book he held above his face.

“And throw away -” he yawned, jaw cracking in the silence, “key…go fuck yourself you whoreson-”

His final lyric was rudely interrupted by a snore, gentle as it was, but deep and bassy. At first, Molly thought it was his own and he’d fallen into some weird awareness of his own sleeping self, but he quickly realised that the snore was coming from somewhere significantly lower than his head.

Molly, with great effort and a groan that matched, levered his head to tip forward and crack his eyes enough to look down at his partner.

Caleb’s face was obscured by the book he’d been halfway through, one hand limp on his chest and the other now dangling loosely off the lounge. His breathing was slow and steady under the thankfully thin book, peppered with the gentle rumble of an occasional snore, and Molly found himself smiling fondly down at his wizard.

Well, he didn’t feel up to moving himself and there was no point in disturbing Caleb’s nap to wander through cold drizzly Zadash for a bed that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as where they were, so Molly decided to let sleep claim him too.

He threaded his finger through Caleb’s loose hair, scratching his nails along Caleb’s scalp, getting a sleepy moan as a response and with that he tipped his own head back and relaxed into the lounge.

#jask answers #critical role #widomauk

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jaskwritesthings · 19 days ago

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Hello! Unsure what prompts you want but maybe a Lambert and Aiden prompt where one of them loves the smell of upcoming storms and the other tries to get them inside before it starts. Silliness and fluff basically :)

(ao3)

sorry this took forever my dear nessie, had a lot going on

---

“Thought Cats hated water?” Lambert said, as he watched his lover stand in the rain, head thrown back and face upturned to the sky. Aiden’s eyes were closed, and his lips were quirked in a soft smile as he seemed to enjoy the near never-ending rain of fucking Velen. If Lambert needed more proof of the instability of Cat Witcher's, it was standing in front of him, enjoying the miserable weather of what could generously be called the Continent’s arse crack.

Fucking Velen.

Aiden turned his head to Lambert, blinking his eyes open slowly as he lazily admired Lambert still hovering in the mouth of their cave, the only dry place they’d found outside the tiny hamlets scattered around the bogs.

“Cats, yes. Cats, no, in fact I’d say Wolves appear to hate water more,” Aiden teased as he took a comical sniff in Lambert’s direction, it earned him a growl.

“I bathe!”

Aiden snorted, tipping his head back once more, “Once in a blue moon or when I force you too.”

“Arsehole,” Lambert grumbled, folding his arms over his chest, he would ordinarily storm off and leave Aiden to prance after him, poking and teasing as he did to regain Lambert’s undivided attention, but there’s something strangely captivating about Aiden at this moment that keeps his feet rooted to the spot. His fellow Witcher has always been one of the pretty ones, wavy dark hair to his shoulders that he often left unbound, tanned skin only slightly blemished by the scars of their trade, a rugged but neat beard to frame a rakish grin and deep piercing green slitted eyes. Together with the swords and the armour and, Lambert had tripped over his own feet more than once because of his staring.

Aiden knew he was gorgeous as well, wasn’t afraid to use it to his advantage whether it was to lean in suavely and charm the tavern owner into a decent meal and bed for a few coins cheaper for them or turn it on Lambert, deliberately choosing to ask his lover to finish the less enjoyable chores around their campsite with that too innocent purring voice, all while, conveniently, missing his shirt. Lambert knew he was being played, didn’t stop him for dancing along to the tune Aiden played every damn time though.

The point was Aiden was beautiful. That wasn’t the surprising thing. But somehow standing under the dreary drizzle of Velen’s usual climate, he looked ethereal, radiant in a way he usually wasn’t. If it had been the damned Bard standing with him, he could have properly put it into pretty words, but all Lambert could conjure mentally was that Aiden was simply beautiful.

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” Aiden said, completely unaware of his lover’s thoughts.

“Rust, mould, there’s a whole list of diseases and shit you get when waterlogged,” Lambert grumbled quietly and half-heartedly, struggling to find something to say that wasn’t just telling Aiden’s already inflated ego how gorgeous he was.

“From one downpour?”

“It’s Velen, this whole country is waterlogged.”

Aiden smiled fondly, “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” Lambert huffed, prepared to leave Aiden to his meditation in the pouring rain and get started on cooking up some of their rations when Aiden lazily swung his head back towards Lambert, wet locks sliding across his face in a way that should have made him look ridiculous, it didn’t, of course.

“Dance with me,” Aiden asked, holding out a hand for Lambert to take, completely sure that he would. And why wouldn’t he? Lambert hadn’t stopped reaching back since they met.

“In the rain?”

“In the rain.”

“You’re insane,” Lambert snorted, a sharp amused sound.

Aiden grinned wide, “Said the Wolf who loves a Cat to that very Cat.”

“Shut up,” Lambert snapped without any real bite, “One dance then we go into the damn cave and get warm.”

“I’ll get you warm,” Aiden said cheekily.

“Kitty cat thinks he’s so funny,” Lambert mumbled under his breath, taking Aiden’s hand and letting the mad Cat yank him into the downpour like they were joining a waltz at some fancy lord’s party.

#jask answers #the witcher #lambden #laiden

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