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jetii · 22 days

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Event Horizon

Chapter Seven: Forward (Part 2)

Chapter WC: 5,095

Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: no thoughts just Rex 💙

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“I almost forgot.” Anakin says your name and gestures to the clone. “This is Captain—“

The name is out of your mouth before you even register saying it, slipping past your lips with a certainty, an assurance, that comes from somewhere deep inside you.

“Rex.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. You stare at him, wide-eyed, and Rex stares back, his expression mirroring yours. There's a pause, and the entire world seems to stop. No one moves, no one breathes.

Rex's lips part, his eyebrows rising. He shakes his head, blinking as if to clear the surprise. His hand tightens around the edge of his helmet, and you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

Anakin's brow furrows. "Yeah, Rex."

Ahsoka's gaze darts between the two of you, her head tilting, and you can see the gears turning behind her eyes. Obi-Wan looks equally perplexed, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You know what they're thinking, and you know you owe them an explanation, but you're too stunned yourself to speak. Instead, you stand, frozen, your eyes locked with Rex, your mouth open in shock.

"Do you two know each other?" Ahsoka asks, her voice cautious.

"Uh," you begin, trying to find the words.

"We've met," Rex answers, his tone steady. He's recovered faster than you, his surprise fading as he schools his features into a mask of calm professionalism, though there's a hint of a smile, a softening around the eyes, that tells you he's not unaffected. He nods at you. "Good to see you again, General.”

You close your mouth, and you can't help the smile that spreads across your own face, the emotion welling up inside you. The words are simple, polite, and yet, they fill you with warmth, a happiness that radiates through your entire body.

At your side, Obi-Wan starts, his eyebrows shooting up, and his eyes dart to your face. You can't bring yourself to look away from Rex, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive, but you can feel the weight of his surprise. You know he can feel the intensity of your emotions, and you also know that he has no idea what's going on.

But you're not sure you do either.

All you know, all you can focus on, is that somehow, impossibly, the man in front of you is the one, the very same clone who saved your life.

"Good to see you, too," you say, the words soft. Your eyes rove over him, taking in his face, his body, his armor. You never saw his face that day, but you remember the strength of his presence, the surety, the resolve. It's all there, staring back at you.

His hair is blond. It's different, but it suits him.

Rex nods, and the moment seems to stretch on forever. There's a warmth in his gaze, an openness, that's unexpected, and his expression is filled with something like awe. The look makes your heart beat a little faster, and you can't stop the blush that spreads across your cheeks.

Anakin clears his throat, and the two of you snap your heads in his direction.

"So, uh, how do you two know each other?" Anakin asks, his tone wary.

You take a breath and manage to regain your composure, though the grin remains. "He, um, he saved my life. On Geonosis. He dragged me back to the ship when I was injured."

The memory of Geonosis hasn't been far from your mind, the pain and the blood and the heat all burned into your consciousness, but the recollection is tempered by the knowledge that, had it not been for Rex, you wouldn't be here, standing in front of him.

You'd been so close to losing everything, to losing yourself, and he'd managed to pull you back from the brink without even knowing you. The thought is sobering, and a rush of emotion falls over you, a feeling of profound gratitude and respect.

Rex rubs the back of his neck, his expression sheepish, and his eyes flit down to the ground. "It was nothing, sir. Any trooper would've done the same."

"That may be, but they didn't. You did," you insist. He looks up, and you hold his gaze, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes.

You don't think he could get any redder, but you're wrong. He blushes, the color spreading across his cheeks and ears, and he gives a short, awkward laugh.

You can't help the small smile that forms on your lips, and you glance at Obi-Wan, the corners of your mouth turning up even more. He's looking between the two of you, his eyebrows raised, and you know he can feel your affection for the clone, the fondness and admiration.

His eyes land on you, and his brow furrows, the question clear.

You shrug and give a small shake of your head, not quite able to answer. You can tell that he's remembering, replaying the events of that day in his mind, weighing the possibilities, and considering the implications. The two of you avoided talking about that day, and the most you’d ever told Obi-Wan is that a clone had fought by your side and helped you evacuate the surface when you were injured.

It wasn't a lie, per se, but it was far from the whole truth.

You'd wanted, needed, to keep some parts of that day for yourself, and the details of the rescue, how you'd very nearly lost control, had seemed too personal, too embarrassing, to share.

Now, though, those details seemed trivial. Your heart is beating faster, the joy coursing through you, and you're unable to contain the grin that spreads across your face, the corners of your lips lifting.

"I can't believe it," Obi-Wan murmurs, and his voice is filled with disbelief. "The odds..."

"Me either," you reply just as softly, your eyes on Rex.

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange a look, their brows furrowed. There's an unspoken question in their eyes, a confusion that's mirrored by Ahsoka, but she doesn't say anything, her gaze moving from Rex, to you, and then back again.

Rex, for his part, is trying his best to affect stoicism, but his eyes keep straying back to you, and there's a tension in his body, a restlessness. You watch his eyes widen slightly when he realizes what he's doing, and his gaze snaps back to Anakin. You bite your cheek, suppressing the strange urge to laugh.

The situation was bizarre, to say the least, but there was something amusing about the way Rex was acting, a combination of nervousness and bashfulness that was completely at odds with the confidence he displayed in combat. The coolness and efficiency with which he'd fought by your side seemed a distant memory, replaced by a boyish shyness that was, quite frankly, adorable.

"Then it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Captain," Obi-Wan begins, and his words are measured, careful. "For doing what I could not. You have my thanks."

"There's no need for that, General," Rex responds, his voice gruff. He glances down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and his lips form a tight line, as if he's holding something back. "Anyone else would've done the same."

Ah, he was modest, too.

Your smile widens, and Rex's eyes flit away, his cheeks reddening further.

Anakin snorts, and Ahsoka rolls her eyes, the expression fond. She leans in and whispers something to Anakin, and he coughs to hide a laugh. Rex glares at them with all the fury a captain can muster, and they respond with matching, sly grins, which only seems to make him more irritated.

"If you say so, Rex," Anakin says, a teasing note in his voice. He looks over at Obi-Wan, and the two of them share a conspiratorial glance. "Seems like the Force has a sense of humor."

"It appears so," Obi-Wan responds, his eyes shining. "Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

You can't help but roll your eyes, and Rex lets out a short, exasperated sigh. You know what they're doing, the gentle prodding, the leading questions, the implications, and you have half a mind to scold them.

"It certainly is," you reply dryly. Your nonplussed expression is betrayed, however, by the twinkle in your eye, and the smirk playing across your lips. “I guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you, Rex."

Rex's eyebrows raise, and he clears his throat. "Yes, it appears that way, sir."

Your smile widens. "Well, I look forward to working with you."

"Same here," he replies, his voice growing firmer. The hint of a smile creeps back onto his face, and the warmth returns, filling his gaze.

There's a strange feeling, an unexpected excitement, that spreads through your chest at his words, and you find yourself returning the smile with enthusiasm. There's a moment, a brief second, where the two of you simply look at each other, your eyes locking, and the sensation is both familiar and new, an odd mixture of comfort and uncertainty.

Then, Anakin steps between you, and the moment is broken.

"As touching as this is, we really should be going. Felucia won't liberate itself," he says. He places a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder and gently pushes her toward the shuttle. "C'mon, Snips."

"Right," Obi-Wan says as he turns, and he motions for you to follow. "We shall see you on the ground."

Rex nods, and you take a few steps before glancing over your shoulder. You find him looking back at you, his expression thoughtful, his brows slightly furrowed, and you pause.

"I'll be right there," you say to Obi-Wan, waving a hand in front of you and giving him a small, apologetic smile. "I'd like a minute, if that's alright."

He raises an eyebrow, and his gaze moves from Rex, to you, and then back again. A slow, knowing grin forms on his face, and he inclines his head towards you. "Of course, my dear. Don't be too long."

He gives your shoulder a pat, and then he moves away, waving down Commander Cody. You wait until he's a safe distance away, and then you turn back to Rex, taking a few steps towards him.

He hesitates for a moment, his hand resting on his holstered blaster, as if debating whether or not to speak. Finally, he seems to come to a decision, and he steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid.

"Sir, it's...good to see you again," he says, his voice formal, almost stilted, his eyes locked on a point over your shoulder. "And, uh, it's nice to put a name to a face."

"Agreed. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” you joke, trying, and failing, to break the tension. The words sound awkward, and you internally wince at the delivery. You weren't exactly the best at these types of conversations, and, as evidenced by the way he was holding himself like a statue, neither was Rex.

After a beat, a smile quirks his lips, and he gives a short laugh. Some of the tension seems to ease from his shoulders, and his expression softens, a more natural, easy smile forming on his lips. "It’s not exactly a unique face, sir, but I appreciate the sentiment."

You let out a surprised, but genuine laugh. You hadn't expected him to be so candid, or witty, and it was a welcome change. His eyes move to yours, and the grin widens, the warmth returning, and your laughter grows.

"No, I suppose it's not," you concede playfully, and you shrug a shoulder. “Still, I like it. It suits you."

"I, uh, thank you, sir," he manages, and his cheeks flush a little, his eyes dipping to the ground. You can't help but smile at the sight, at his sudden shyness. A familiar instinct rises in you, the one to push, to prod, to tease, and you struggle to ignore it, biting your cheek to stop yourself.

It would be all too easy, but it was also wrong, especially since you barely knew him. You didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, or obligated to entertain your antics. He'd risked his life for yours, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him regret it.

You clear your throat, and your eyes drift over his shoulder. Obi-Wan and Cody stand a respectable distance away, but the two men are clearly watching, their gazes focused on you, and you feel your own cheeks start to heat.

You'd hoped for some privacy, but it would appear that it wasn't meant to be.

"I didn’t realize you were a Captain now,” you say, shifting the subject to a safer topic.

"I am, sir," Rex replies, and his shoulders square, a bit of pride creeping into his voice. "I started my training after Geonosis, and I was promoted to Captain shortly after the start of the war."

"Impressive, Captain. That's quite the accomplishment," you say. You can’t help but feel proud, the achievement not lost on you. To have risen so quickly through the ranks, to have earned the respect and admiration of his fellow soldiers, was no easy feat, and you couldn’t deny that you were impressed.

"I always wondered what happened to you,” you continue after he nods his thanks. You meet his gaze, and there's an uncertainty, a hesitation, in your voice. You take a breath, steeling yourself, and push the words past your lips. "I thought... well, I wasn't sure if you made it out alive."

The admission is raw, honest, and the words come out before you can stop them. You regret them almost instantly, but you don’t have time to take them back, to apologize.

His expression changes, and his brows furrow, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. “I didn’t think you would remember me, sir, if I'm being honest. But, if it's any consolation, I wondered the same thing."

His gaze is soft, his eyes searching, and you feel a small stab of guilt. You had, of course, remembered him, had thought about him and his bravery and his sacrifice for the last six months, but he hadn’t known that.

“How could I forget?” You give him a small, apologetic smile, and you hope he can read the sincerity in it. "I would have died on that planet if it wasn't for you."

Rex opens his mouth, and you suspect he’s about to disagree, or protest, or something, so you wave him off. "And don't say anyone would have done the same."

He snaps his mouth shut, and a frown pulls at the corners of his lips. Then he shakes his head and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Alright, I won't."

"Good," you chuckle. "Because you'd be wrong."

"So, you've said," he replies, and his grin widens, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “What I was going to say was that you gave me a hell of a fight over it. You were very insistent, as I recall."

"I suppose I was,” you admit with a sheepish laugh. "I was reckless."

Rex shakes his head, and his eyes never leave yours. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sir. You did what you had to do, and it was brave. It's an honor to serve with someone like you."

The forcefulness, the sincerity of his tone catches you off guard, and your eyes widen. You weren't expecting such a frank, direct answer, and it takes you a moment to find the words to respond.

"I don’t know about that," you finally manage, and you smile, your heart warmed by his praise. “But, thank you.”

He nods, and a small smile plays on his lips, his eyes soft. There's an odd feeling, a flutter in your chest, that accompanies the look. The way he's watching you, with a mixture of admiration and respect, is flattering, but it also makes you feel uncomfortable. You were used to being looked at, and judged, and measured, but this was different. This was... something else.

It's not an unpleasant feeling, not by any means, but it is unsettling.

You clear your throat and try to think of a response, something clever or funny to ease the tension, but before you can, Rex speaks.

"Well, I'd better be going," he says slowly. His eyes flicker over your shoulder, and his smile falters. You follow his gaze, and you see Obi-Wan waiting, his posture impatient, the frown on his face evident even from this distance. "Looks like General Kenobi is waiting for you."

You roll your eyes, the annoyance clear. "Yes, I can see that."

You’d been ignoring the subtle, increasingly impatient nudges over the bond, but Obi-Wan was persistent, and you knew that if you didn’t end the conversation soon, he'd come over and drag you away.

Rex's eyebrows lift, and the small, amused grin returns. "Good luck, sir.”

"You, too, Captain," you reply, the words accompanied by an exaggerated sigh.

The two of you share a smile, and then he turns and strides back towards the transport. You watch him go, and there's a strange feeling, a tightness, that constricts your chest. It's not until he disappears from sight, the doors sliding closed behind him, that you realize you'd been holding, hoping, that he would look back.

You shake your head, the movement sharp, and you start walking towards the shuttle, trying to shake off the odd sensation.

You have bigger problems, after all, and you needed to focus.

Obi-Wan is still speaking to Commander Cody as you approach, their heads bowed together, their voices low. They stop when they notice you, and the two of them share a conspiratorial glance.

"All set?" Obi-Wan asks, his tone light.

"Yes," you reply, the word clipped, and your eyes narrow. “I was just thanking Captain Rex.”

He gives you a smile, his expression innocent, but you can tell by the way his lips twitch, and his eyes crinkle, that he's struggling not to laugh.

“Yes, you did sound rather grateful,” he muses, and his eyes dart over your shoulder, as if searching for something. You turn and look, but Rex is nowhere to be found. You hadn't expected him to stick around, and yet, part of you is disappointed.

When you turn back and see the sly, knowing look Obi-Wan is giving you, however, your annoyance returns in full force.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you demand, your eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," he says innocently.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you had better not be insinuating what I think you're insinuating."

He holds up his hands in surrender. "I would never."

"Uh-huh," you mutter. "Right."

You give him one last glare, and your shoulder brushes harder than necessary against his as you stride up the ramp of the shuttle, making him stumble.

"Now, now, don't be like that," he calls out behind you, the words teasing, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

When you turn, he's smiling, his eyes dancing with mirth, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitch upwards. You step aside to let him pass, and he pauses, giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

"I’m just impressed, is all,” he says as he walks by, his voice soft. "I believe this is a new record for you."

Your smile fades, the confusion setting in, and your brow furrows. You hurry to catch up to him, weaving your way through the troopers packed into the shuttle, their white armor reflecting the harsh light of the overhead lamps, and you come to a halt beside him.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, your tone wary.

Obi-Wan glances over at you, the look knowing, his smile smug. "It's been mere minutes since you've stepped foot outside the Temple, and already, you have a new admirer."

You can't help but snort, loud and derisive. "What? Don't be ridiculous. He's not my admirer."

"Of course not," Obi-Wan agrees, but the amusement is clear in his voice, and you can hear the silent laughter, the teasing. “Just like that Prince on Hynestia Prime wasn’t your admirer, or that Mikkian priestess wasn’t your admirer. Or the Queen of—well, you get the point."

"I'm not talking to you anymore," you hiss, and you turn to seek out an open seat, intent on ignoring him for the rest of the ride.

"Oh, don't be like that, darling," Obi-Wan continues, the words full of mirth. He follows behind you, his strides long and purposeful. "I'm simply stating the facts."

You reach the nearest empty bench and take a seat, folding your arms over your chest, and fixing Obi-Wan with the best scowl you can manage. Ever immune to your glare, Obi-Wan plops down beside you, his body bouncing lightly on the bench, and his eyes twinkle.

"If it makes you feel any better, he's not the only one," Obi-Wan continues, unfazed by your outburst, and his knee knocks against yours.

"Really," you deadpan, your voice flat.

"I'm afraid so," he replies gravely. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed. "You've quite a fan club amongst the men. Isn’t that right, Cody?”

Cody, who’s taken up a spot across from you, looks between the two of you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His face is a mask of professionalism, but the hint of amusement is evident in his eyes, the brown depths sparkling. Still, he manages to remain neutral, his voice steady, when he speaks.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'd rather not get involved in...whatever this is," he says, gesturing between the two of you.

"See?" you say, looking at Obi-Wan triumphantly.

“Although, if I were to get involved," Cody begins, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, "I wouldn't necessarily call it a fan club, sir. More of an admiration for your skill as a Jedi and a General."

You blink, a bit taken aback by the unexpected compliment, and your expression falls. The ship falls silent, and you can see the other men around you trying to make themselves look busy, their gazes focused intently on the floor or their datapads.

You feel the flush rise to your cheeks, the embarrassment creeping up your neck, and you turn away, the instinctive desire to hide your emotions rising to the surface.

"Is that so?" you mumble, your tone subdued.

"Of course, sir," Cody confirms, his voice gentle, as if sensing your unease. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and he inclines his head toward you. "And I think I speak for all of us when I say, it's good to have you back."

You swallow hard, and a lump forms in your throat. You don't know how to respond, or what to say, and so you just nod, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"Well, that's very kind," you reply, your voice strained.

Obi-Wan gives you a small, encouraging nudge over the bond, and when you look at him, the expression on his face is affectionate, sympathetic.

You give him a half-smile, and you take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and letting it out slowly. The embarrassment, the guilt, is still there, a lingering ache in your chest, but Cody's words help ease it somewhat, and you're able to push the feeling back, to bury it in the recesses of your mind.

You glance around the shuttle and notice that many of the troopers are watching, their faces curious, expectant. A few offer you a nod, or a wave, or a thumbs up, and, one by one, you return their smiles, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

As the ship takes off, Cody excuses himself and heads toward the cockpit, leaving the two of you alone. You stare down at the floor, your fingers twisting in your lap, and you feel Obi-Wan's eyes on you. You look up, and he gives you a wink.

"Stop," you hiss, and he laughs, the sound low and rich.

"I'm not doing anything.”

"Yes, you are," you insist, and you poke his arm. "You're being annoying."

"I'm being encouraging," he corrects. His hand squeezes your knee gently before it retreats back into his own lap. “I am only trying to prove to you that, despite what you might think, there are plenty of people who admire and respect you, not just for your skill in combat, but for who you are as a person."

You scoff, but the words have their desired effect, and some of the tightness in your chest loosens, the tension in your shoulders lessening. "Sure, okay."

Obi-Wan lets out a breath, his frustration evident. "Don't do that."

Your brow furrows, and you frown. "Do what?"

"You know what," he says, and he raises an eyebrow. When you don't respond, he shakes his head. "You have a tendency to dismiss such feelings, but I would urge you to pay them closer attention."

Your expression darkens, and the irritation creeps back in, a dull ache forming behind your eyes. You hate it when Obi-Wan got like this, when his tone turned patronizing, his words full of some deeper, unspoken meaning, some lesson he was trying to impart on you. You hate the fact that he can see right through you, and you hate that he always seems to be able to get under your skin, and you hate how, even when you don't want to, you find yourself listening.

You know he means well, but his words rankle, especially in light of recent events, and your jaw clenches.

"I'll keep that in mind, Master," you bite out, your voice tight.

Obi-Wan sighs, and his gaze moves to the window, watching the clouds roll by, the colors blurring together as the ship picks up speed. You stare at the back of his head, your hands curled into fists, the anger building in your chest, and you're about to open your mouth, to tell him where he can shove his lessons, when he speaks.

"I mean it," he mutters, his tone quiet, almost regretful. "You've become so cynical, so closed off, that you fail to see how much people care about you. It's...disappointing, and I can't help but think that maybe I'm to blame."

The anger dissipates, and a wave of guilt replaces it.

"Obi-Wan—"

"No," he cuts in, and he turns to face you, his eyes locking with yours. "It's true, and you know it."

The look in his eyes, the guilt, the sadness, is almost too much for you to bear, and your resolve crumbles, the fight leaving your body. You sigh, and you reach over, taking his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining.

"Obi-Wan, this isn't on you," you say, and your thumb strokes the back of his hand, the movement slow and soothing. "None of this is your fault."

His gaze drops, and he takes a deep breath, his fingers squeezing yours. He swallows hard, and his eyes flutter shut. Then, he exhales, the sound shaky, and he leans back, his eyes opening.

"Just promise me one thing," he murmurs, and he searches your face, his eyes pleading.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll try," he says, his voice earnest, and his grip on your hand tightens as if afraid you'll pull away. "You are so much more than the mistakes you've made, the things you've done, or the things that have been done to you, and you deserve to be happy."

Obi-Wan's words cut to the core, and a part of you wants to recoil, to snatch your hand back and storm off. Another part, however, the more reasonable part, the part that's been listening, wants to stay. The words are so familiar, so similar to something you'd heard from Master Yaddle a lifetime ago, and you can't help but feel moved.

You look at him, really look at him, and you can see the genuine concern, the love, in his eyes, and you can feel it through the bond. Your eyes prick, and you squeeze them shut, willing the tears not to fall.

"I'm going to be fine," you whisper, and you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We're going to be fine, I promise."

Obi-Wan leans his head against yours as his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the movement gentle and comforting, and the tension slowly seeps from his body. For a time, neither of you speak, content to sit in silence and watch the world fly by.

Then, after a few minutes, he breaks the silence.

"Although you can't deny that you do seem to attract admirers," he says, his tone playful, and his eyes sparkle. "Which is frankly rather impressive, given that your personality leaves much to be desired."

You laugh, and you sit up, rolling your eyes.

"And here I thought you were giving me a heartfelt speech," you tease, and you give his hand a final squeeze before withdrawing, your fingers slipping from his. "Turns out, it was a thinly veiled insult."

Obi-Wan chuckles, and he leans back, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, it wouldn't be very Jedi-like of me if I didn't include at least some self-righteous moralizing."

"Of course, how could I forget?" you say with a shake of your head. "You're nothing if not predictable."

He shrugs, his expression smug. "What can I say? It's part of my charm."

"Charm, is that what we're calling it now?"

"Absolutely."

You roll your eyes again, and you let out a huff of exasperation, but the amusement is clear on your face. "I can't believe I missed this."

"Yes, well, I can't believe I missed your sunny disposition," Obi-Wan responds, and he flashes you a crooked grin. "It's been so dreary around here without your interminable optimism and boundless energy."

"Don't forget my sparkling wit," you add as you elbow him.

"I could never."

The two of you continue to bicker, your banter moving easily between the two of you. It's almost like no time has passed, and the comfort and the ease is soothing, familiar. It feels right, the two of you back together again, and you can't help but feel hopeful, the excitement building. You have a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, but it's nice to have friends by your side.

For the first time in a long while, the weight of the galaxy feels a little lighter, the burden a little easier to bear.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #obi-wan: you're deserving of love and respect #mc: sounds fake but okay #also i love making mc a grumpy clueless chick magnet so you're just going to have to deal with that

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aj-artjunkyard · 6 months

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I think the prequels should’ve made Owen Lars Anakin’s full brother. I think we should’ve had gruff 19/20 year old completely Force-null Owen in TPM and make the audience assume for a moment that that’s young Darth Vader, but nope, it’s the tiny blond Yippee boy who’s playing with droids.

I want to play with old Ben’s line about Uncle Owen in ANH “He thought (Anakin) should’ve stayed here, not gotten involved (in the clone wars)” as Owen urging Anakin to quit the Order in AOTC because a war is brewing in the Republic, telling him their mother sent Anakin away to be safe, and would never approve of him becoming a soldier.

Then Uncle Owen in OWK with that same dismissive attitude towards Obi-Wan but this time it’s not just protectiveness of Luke but also because he blames the Jedi for corrupting his little brother

#Rex says some Big Brother thing about Fives and Anakin’s like ‘you sound like MY big brother 😊’#Owen grumbling about Anakin losing an arm and Cleigg losing a leg… he swears no one in this darn family is careful #little Ahsoka meeting Owen and being like ‘Master!! he’s grumpy like you!!! 😁😁’#forgive me I just love the Lars family #also this isn’t anti-Jedi at all but I do think Owen would be a little biased #Owen lars #anakin skywalker #star wars #kenobi series #original trilogy #prequel trilogy #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan Kenobi #luke skywalker #the phantom menace #a new hope

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tennessoui · 8 months

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hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.

oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!

(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)

(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)

35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs

(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)

Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.

Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.

Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.

Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.

And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.

It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.

It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.

But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.

It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.

Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever.

That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.

His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.

It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.

Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced.

Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.

But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.

The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.

If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.

A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.

Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.

“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”

“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.

“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”

Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”

Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”

“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.

He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.

It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.

“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”

Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.

He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.

And Saak’s right, shit.

The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.

He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.

In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.

Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen.

“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous.

One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”

The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”

“You drugged him!”

The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”

His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?

He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.

Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly.

Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety.

“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.

It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate.

And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions.

“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.

“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.

This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.

“Not a kid,” the kid says.

“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid.

And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.

Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.

He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.

And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.

The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”

The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.

Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.

“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”

“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”

“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.

“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.

It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.

“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”

It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.

Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.

Why would the rebellion be any different?

When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.

He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.

The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.

And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.

It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.

But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi!

It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.

The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.

It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate.

Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.

Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.

He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.

He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways.

But—Vader is asleep.

And no one would have to know.

If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.

He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands. Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.

It is a sickly looking red.

It is not a blade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.

And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.

The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #vaderwan #anakin is going to wake up and be like aw why is he being so distant and grouchy #and obi-wan is going to be like i cant believe im helping someone who probably helped murder my family #but then vader who has not experienced kindness from strangers before #keeps coming back for more kindness from this grumpy stranger #this is like #non consensual adoption of a grumpy bartender au #or something lmao

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giggles-and-freckles · 9 months

Note

Hey there! Can I get brand new neighbors au with Anakin and Satine?

from this prompt list

“You walk up this every day?”

Anakin passes him on the stairs and laughs. “Getting old on me, Obi-Wan?”

“No,” he cries. “These are steep.”

“Give me the box,” Anakin instructs, dropping his own load at the top of the stairs and coming back down toward Obi-Wan.

“I can handle it.”

“You’re wheezing. Give it here.”

Obi-Wan clutches the large box closer to his chest. “I am quite capable of carrying a box up some stairs, thank you.”

“Then stop complaining so much and do it, old man.” Anakin bounds down the rest of the steps to retrieve the last things from the car and manages to catch back up to Obi-Wan, skipping a few steps along the way, just to annoy Obi-Wan.

“I’d say don’t mind the mess, but I know you will,” Anakin calls over his shoulder as he unlocks the door and leads the way in.

“Good heavens, Anakin, you’ve lived here for a week.”

He flops onto the couch and grins. “And you missed me so much you’re already here to visit.”

“You asked me to drive up with your last things,” Obi-Wan reminds him, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

The truth is, Anakin wanted to call Obi-Wan the second he drove off in the first place.

Sure, he’s excited about a fresh start. Classes haven’t started yet, but he’s already met some new people and they seem great.

But it’s also terrifying and Anakin hasn’t felt this lonely in years.

“We can order take-out later. I found this place around the corner with great burgers. Nothing like Dex’s, of course, but I’ll survive off of it for the next five years.”

“A degree is typically acquired in four years.”

“But I’m not typical, Obi-Wan. I’m above average.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you understand what that means.”

“Of course I —” He’s cut off.

Obi-Wan shoots back up. “What the blazes…”

“You’re kidding.” Anakin stands and storms toward the window, throwing back the curtain to get a view of the street. Just as he expected.

Her.

“What is it?’ Obi-Wan asks, coming up behind Anakin to see out the window.

She continues to lay on her horn.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says. “Am I in her parking spot? I’ll go move—”

Anakin’s hand shoots out to grab Obi-Wan. “Don’t you dare.”

“But —”

“I’ll handle this.”

If he was flying up and down the stairs earlier, it’s nothing compared to the speed with which he descends them now, billowing toward her car.

She sees him coming and times her horn honking to his footsteps.

“Satine! It’s a Saturday morning! Half the neighbourhood is still sleeping!”

She rolls down her passenger window. “I don’t understand how it concerns me that they’ve decided to waste away their days. What does concern me is this piece of trash in my spot.”

“It’s my —” He fumbles for a word, never knowing how to refer to Obi-Wan when speaking with a stranger. Father? Mentor? Brother? “Friend. He was helping me move.”

She smiles and claps her hands together. “Oh, you’re moving already? Delightful!”

Anakin smiles sweetly in return. “If I were to move, who would stop you from running over puppies and eating children?”

“Is there a problem?”

Anakin groans and looks over his shoulder. “Go inside, Obi-Wan. I’ve got this.”

“The only thing you’ve got is an ego the size of Texas and an apparently tragic barber, if that dreadful haircut is anything to show for it,” she points out, then leans forward in her seat to see around Anakin. “You there,” she calls. “This is your…vehicle?”

Obi-Wan comes to stand beside Anakin. “It is. I was unloading some boxes earlier and parked here for convenience. I didn’t realise this was assigned parking. It’s completely my mistake. If you’ll give me a moment to fetch my keys, I’ll get out of your way.”

She purses her lips into a thin line, clearly unsure of how to respond to Obi-Wan’s kindness. She gives a curt nod. “I should appreciate that.”

Obi-Wan walks back toward the house to retrieve his keys and Satine resumes her glaring.

“Your friend is not a student,” she says.

“Great observation, genius.”

“I’m surprised you have peers who know how to speak in complete sentences.”

“He does his own taxes and everything.”

Obi-Wan returns then, jingling his keys in victory.

“Thank you for being so patient. Again, I’m sorry to have set your morning back.” He turns toward Anakin. “Is there a metered area somewhere nearby? Or —”

Satine opens her car door and steps out. “Oh, never mind that.”

Obi-Wan looks at her — too closely, Anakin thinks. “I’m sorry?”

She pulls a small, genuine smile. Anakin didn’t know she was capable of those. “You’re visiting. It isn’t right that you park blocks away. Besides, my car is small. I’m fine here.”

“Are you certain? It’s really no trouble —”

She waves him off. “Nonsense.” Her smile grows as she offers a hand. “I’m Satine.”

“Obi-Wan,” he says, flashing a smile of his own.

Anakin hates this.

“Well, now that that’s all sorted,” he says, clapping his hands, “Obi-Wan and I have some boxes to unpack.”

“There’s only a few things, Anakin. It won’t take us but a half hour.”

Obi-Wan knows this. Anakin knows this. But Satine didn’t have to know this.

“Are you here for the weekend?” Satine asks.

“Just the day, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan replies. “I have some things to get done before the work week begins.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. What do you teach?”