#the war at home fanfiction

[viking-raider]

Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

[amiti-art]

Did you guys know that Admetus' son Eumelus was fighting in the Trojan war?

Alcestis: I worry about Eumelus, it's been 10 years. I fear we will never see him again.

Admetus: Don't worry dear, I'm sure Apollo is watching over him, like he always watched over our family.

Meanwhile in Troy

Apollo: *kills dozens of Greeks with the plague. Constantly protects Hector and makes sure he can kill as many Greeks as humanly possible. Helps Trojan princes kill Greeks' best warriors*

Eumelus after seeing all of this: mom come pick me up I'm scared

But all jokes aside

Can you imagine Eumelus coming back home and seeing Apollo visiting his parents?

He sees Apollo being loving and kind to Admetus, he sees Apollo being gentle and friendly with Alcestis. He saw that his entire childhood, he saw the god of music, knowledge, light and poetry.

But now, after the war, Eumelus can't help but only see the god of plagues, the destroyer of men. He can't forget the horrible smell of disease and rotting human flesh, he can't forget what happend in Troy.

Obviously, it's not only one sided. Eumelus was fighting in this war, he helped destroy the city, he does have blood on his hands. And that could make him even more terrified of Apollo. Because he helped destroy the city that was under Apollo's protection.

What if one of the man he killed had Apollo's favour like Hector did? What if the only thing standing between him and Apollo's rage are his parents? What if Apollo is waiting for them to pass away to punish Eumelus? He can be patient, he's a god after all, he have all the time in the world. What if Pherae (their polis) will lose Apollo's favour with Admetus' death? What if Apollo will send a plague upon them as soon as Eumelus takes his father's throne? He can't stop thinking about all of this every time he sees Apollo.

I also like to think that Apollo did protect Eumelus despite being on the other side of the war. After all, Eumelus didn't die during the plage. He didn't die in the last battle despite being on the front line, inside of the Trojan horse. He made it home while most of the Greeks didn't.

He had and still have Apollo's favour, he just can't see it through his fear.

[coline7373]

On fanfics and all fanworks.

[ascendancyzine]

Finding Home: Ascendancy Zine Contributors Announcement!

We are pleased and excited to announce the list of contributors to the Finding Home: Chiss Ascendancy Fanzine!

Between now and April 1st, all of the contributors below will be working hard to create their portion of this labor of love for our fandom. So please take a moment and like, reblog, and comment to say hello. 🥰 We will be holding Contributor Spotlights over the next few months, so stay tuned to learn more about each and every talented person listed below and on our website here.

Writers:

@greatbasinrattlesnake (Tiktaalik77) @thedistantstorm (DistantStorm) @jewelliffer (MotherRameses) @marroniere (marroniere_m) @jedihlaalu (CountessLamont) @mittheresabosen @shards-of-silver (PierceTheVeils) @mayhaps-a-blog (v838monoceros / AlphaCentauri) @littleladymab (Lady_Mab) @treescape (dreaminglilacs) @furiosophie

Artists: 

@aceinspaceart (Ace) @gosouthkrabb  (Salty Krabby) @emp-roar @littlekhada @Flamryn  @anuspastor @klazje @csillin-in-the-chaos (Tinuviel) @qt-kt (kait_is_gold) @archfey (Edda) @grand-admiral-lawn @amandamadeathing @hydr0phius-art @ungimbaledlaser  @skywalkerthrawn @jazaesis  @furiosophie @heumilch @jemichiart @blue-egg-adventures drbrynn (instagram link)

Merch Artists: 

@calboyvanto  paynterly (instagram link) @owliix ruzovy_art (instagram link)

[renlyslittlerose]

Heartbeat Drives You Mad - Chapter 24

Tags: Alternate Universe - 1980s / Getting Together / Explicit Sexual Content / Depression / Grief/Mourning / Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism / Older Man/Younger Man / Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms / Loneliness / Anakin Skywalker in Booty Shorts and Tube Socks / Codependency/ This Fic is a Horny Depressing Mess / Just Like Obi-Wan Summary: Anakin was wearing his customary shorts - blue with yellow banding today - and a cut-off shirt. He was dark all over, skin an even deeper shade of brown that made him look like liquid honey and bronze, supple yet sturdy. The sun had bleached his hair, bringing out the blond tucked away in the brown strands, curls on top of curls shimmering like spun gold. He leaned back next to Obi-Wan, hot against his side and smelling of cigarettes, clean sweat, and the sun. — After a devastating loss that Obi-Wan can’t seem to recover from, he decides to pack up his life and move to a small lazy town on the outskirts of a desert. Depressed and alcoholic, Obi-Wan figures fucking his pain away with the pretty nineteen year old neighbour boy is a good idea. Turns out, it is anything but a good idea.

Thank you to @tideswept for the moodboard 💖

[justaz]

“what if magic isn’t something you choose. what if…it chooses you?”

au where magic chooses arthur instead of morgana and the prince is freaking out about this new ability, something thats been drilled into his head is pure evil. the magic lashing out and he is unable to contain it. uther finding out and having him burned.

merlin who is unable to do anything to stop it, maybe he’s away on some secret magic mission idk, and he has to face the fact that arthur is dead. bc of uther. merlin waging war against camelot as one lone man, he never cared for the kingdom as much as he did arthur - everything he did was for the prince and the kingdom he would build, but that will never come to be now.

morgana quickly joining his side along w a few loyal to arthur rather than uther - gwen, leon, a few other background characters lmfao. merlin doesn’t hide his magic, he lets them know how he is going to fight and they still stand by him. uther doesn’t take the declaration of war seriously until they have a fucking dragon.

idk where this goes but it ends with (sorta) dark!merlin and uther’s charred head on a stick

[the-bi-space-ace]

A final goodbye.

—

I’m crying, friends. I don’t have words to explain how much this series has meant to me. Calling Me Home is coming to a well deserved end but I’ll remember these last few years with it forever. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

One last time 🧡

[korraofthereef]

WE LIVE BECAUSE OF HIM

synopsis : what if on the final recording Tony left for his family, he largely mentions that the entire reason he did everything he did was for his kids. Plural. As in Morgan and Peter Parker.

Except. . . No one knows who Peter Parker is…

it’s been a while, but Pepper misses hearing her late husband’s voice so she pulls out that one specific recording. The one that mentions a boy no one knows exists.

Should I work on this fic? Yes… no…?

[bamfahsoka]

OK, fellow clone simps, I once again need your help finding a fic! Again, it's one that I read a long time ago. I thought I read it on AO3, but I checked my history,bookmarks, and searched for keywords. It's a Wolffex reader, and I thought it was called 'Home'. It's about how clones' relationship with the general public has improved, and there is one particular house( owned by reader) that any clone can go to when they need to feel ' at home' or a sense of peace. Wolffe is, of course, hesitant and thinks everyone is crazy for going, but after his brothers come back raving about it, he caves and visits the house. The reader doesn't make herself known as she doesn't want to scare Wolffe off, but after several visits, their relationship evolves. If this sounds familiar, please let me know where I can read it. Thanks!

[adhd-coyote]

Update day for This House Don't Feel Like Home!

Chapter 35: Melidaan Summary: Obi-Wan is greeted the like old friend and comrade he is, and the Young (former) look out for each other. Content Warnings: The Chips, Sci-Fi Medical Jargon, Anxiety & PTDS, Unreliable Character Narration, References to Past Abuse, References to Past Dehumanization, References to Child Soldiers

::Kote:: He tapped in dadita on Kote's side, out of eyesight. ::Was Kenobi a child soldier?:: ::Yes.:: Kote tapped back. ::Sent here on a mission. Abandoned. Can tell you more later.::

[nikki-is-a-nerd]

In Another Life

Synopsis:

When Ezra left and sacrificed himself, He didn't just leave behind his family and friends but the person who he promised to love. When Sabine finds him, he learned not to ask certain things

Genre: Angst.

Note: This is from Ezra's point of view. And AFAB reader and yes Katy Perry reference because ugh it hurts so bad.

_________________________________

How long has it been? How long has he been stuck here, wherever here really was. How long has it been since he lost it all for the sake of saving his home planet? He really didn't know, perhaps he also doesn't want to know. Sure he knows that somewhere deep inside that his friends-no his family is looking for him. Sabine would use that stubborn head if hers just to find him, he bets that Hera and Zeb would do the same although a bit subtle, and you, his lovely girl, he just knows that you're out there somewhere using all your connections. He smiles at that.

He closes his eyes remembering the night before his sacrifice. The sky was beautiful in Lothal, the Loth cats surround you both in the field he found. The sky was beautiful but they couldn't compare to you.

"Ezra, do you think when the Empire is destroyed, we can grow up like normal teenagers and adults?" You asked him so meekly.

He had to take a breath before he answered since he remembered the little message he recorded for you and Sabine.

"I sure hope so. I would like to not always be in a life and death situation and it would ease my mind to know that you aren't in one as well." Ezra said as he looked at you.

"Maybe we can live in your tower, have a pet Loth cat and maybe we can visit Sabine in Mandalore too." You said hopeful.

Ezra feels guilty for what he knows he's going to do and honestly he doesn't know what to say or how to tell you that with what he's planning to do, he might not even get that future with you. So he lies with a smile instead, adding onto your fantasy, one that he's had in a while as well.

"How many Loth cats do you want? We can have as much as you want. I can even move some of my prized helmets to make more space for us." Ezra said as he closed his eyes.

"The helmets, we should put them in a nice glass case so we can admire all the helmets you've collected. And we can put your lightsaber on display." You said happily.

That was the last happy memory he had with you. The day he chose to exile himself, you were knocked unconscious during a fight, this didn't get to hear Ezra's farewell. He asked Sabine to watch over you and tell you that he loves you and that he was sorry.

After that all he's known were these creatures native to this planet. He was in exile but Thrawn found this time to rebuild and make connections with the dark mothers and the other scavengers on this planet. While he lived on the run, once again protecting these creatures that he slowly began to care for.

When Sabine arrived on the planet that she told him was called Peridea, she mentioned how he's been gone for a decade. The resistance won, the empire, the emperor and Darth Vader were all gone. Luke Skywalker brought back the Jedi Order, Leia Organa is now a senator, Hera is now a general and a mother, Kallus and Zeb are married and that she was living in his tower. It was night time already and the rest of the alien friends that Ezra had made were fast asleep. Happy as he might be hearing those life stories he asked Sabine the most important one to him.

"Where's (Y/N) now? What's she up to nowadays? Is she with someone? I mean I wouldn't mind if she was, I mean I've been gone for a decade she can do that. I mean I also just left without a goodbye an-" Sabine cut off Ezra's ramblings.

Sabine looked sullen and wracked with guilt as she looked at Ezra. He knew, he had a feeling that whatever he would hear, this wasn't going to be any good.

"Ezra, after you left, (Y/N) decided that she was going to try and find you. She searched everywhere, until Cassian Andor and her met. He recruited her into a mission to steal the blueprints of the death star." Sabine said solemnly.

"And? You said we won. I guess they succeeded then." Ezra said.

"They did. They succeeded which in turn allowed us to win, but at the cost of everyone part of that mission's lives." Sabine concluded.

Ezra felt his heart shatter. You were dead? The one who kept him sane on this planet, one of his reasons to return. You were well and truly gone? He never got to apologize to you for abandoning you. He hasn't told you how being apart from you was like losing half of himself in the process, how the sun doesn't shine as brightly. How he loves you and longs for you. Now all these words will be left unsaid.

"I'm sorry Ezra. I failed to protect her and I couldn't keep my promise." Sabine apologized, teary eyed.

And Ezra snapped out of his downward spiral. He may have lost the love of his life but for Sabine, she lost her sister, she lost the person who she considered her best friend and he hugged her.

"I'm sorry I made you relive all that." Ezra apologized.

"Don't apologize Ezra. I knew you'd ask about her. When (Y/N) died, I felt it in the force, Ahsoka did too. We felt frozen when that happened. I felt so useless. I talked to her before they executed the mission. I told her that I thought I had a lead on you and I got mad when she said that it didn't matter if I told her or not." Sabine said softly.

She wiped her tears as she looked up at the sky.

"I guess she just didn't want to tell me that it was a suicide mission. That no matter what happens, she would end up. Dead. She didn't leave a message like you did. But apparently she left letters. So once you get back, ask chopper about it." Sabine said a sad smile on her face.

"You know, it's funny how life works. I sacrificed myself so that she can find a way to live peacefully and she does the same thing. Funny how I'm still alive and she isn't." Ezra said looking up at the night sky.

Sabine let Ezra rest his head on her shoulder as he let out a deep exhale. He was saddened by the news, that wasn't really surprising. Sabine used to tell you that you and Ezra were made to be together. It's why she was so utterly devastated by your loss. She knew that if she ever found Ezra telling him about your untimely death and sacrifice would break his heart.

"You know we both moved into your tower. She arranged your helmet collection when she got enough credit to buy a nice case. She said it was her way of fulfilling both of your dreams." Sabine said trying to lighten up the mood.

"She did? I thought she'd be mad at me and throw them out or sell them." Ezra said.

"Nah, (Y/N) cared for those helmets and told me that if anyone tried to take those away from her to put on display since they made a mural of us in Lothal, she said she would steal them." Sabine said chuckling to herself.

"Oh knowing (Y/N) she would even care if people saw her stealing it. She'd say something along the lines of 'its private property and you took it' or 'is it really theft if I own it?'. She's too snarky to get caught." Ezra said with a smile.

"Word of advice, when you return to your tower in Lothal, there's a box labelled with her name on it. Inside is this really thick journal she has. It's addressed to you." Sabine said as she moved to her designated resting spot, beside her howler.

"I thought you lived in the tower?" Ezra asked.

"I did but it was more like ensuring that you'd have a familiar place to return too. Plus there's a loth cat there, use your weird animal speech thing." Sabine joked.

"Thanks Sabine." Ezra said.

When the time came for their escape from Peridea, sure he was alone in Thrawn's ship once more, as Sabine decided to stay behind with Ahsoka. A decision he accepted as he watched as his friend and someone he sees as a sister fight side by side just to get him home.

Once back to the galaxy he once left behind, he had a feeling of both excitement and happiness but also longing. He was excited to see his family. He hasn't seen Hera, Zeb, Kallus and chopper in so long and now he has a new face to see, the last link he has of his late master, Jacen. Yet he can never fully feel at home, not when a piece of him was lost forever once he learned of your demise from Sabine.

When he arrived at the resistance base, it was bittersweet. Hugging Hera felt like he was grounded back in reality. He was home, but not really. Home would've been in your arms, in his tower in Lothal, living out your days in domestic bliss. So once he's caught up with everyone, he asks Hera if he can go back to Lothal, to his tower. Hera didn't object, just led him to the ghost with Jacen chattering away. He felt happy seeing Jacen, so young and full of life. He would make for a great Jedi one day.

"We're here Ezra." Hera spoke as she opened the ship's door and lowered its ramp on Ezra's tower.

"We'll visit you often uncle Ezra!" Jacen said happily.

"If you need anything, just message us on our commlink." Hera added.

"Yeah, thanks again Hera. Take care of yourself now, okay Jacen? Don't be reckless." Ezra said trying faux seriousness.

"Of course!" Jacen said happily.

As soon as the ghost was out of sight, he entered the doors, the lock was still the same. Once inside he noticed the subtle changes. Bunk beds, a chest under the lower bunk with Sabine's things, a small bed for a loth cat, and in the far corner, next to a glass case filled with his collection of helmets was a chest with your name on it. He immediately walks towards it, opening it delicately. There he sees four journals, all labelled, for Ezra.

He opens the very first one and a soft smile graces his lips.

Sabine and I moved into your tower. We wanted to stay close to Lothal, keep it safe and also to form some roots. We have been very busy though.

Dear Ezra,

We moved into your tower, we wanted to stay close to Lothal. Watch over your home planet as much as we can. Although we have been quite busy. Since we are now formally part of the resistance, we have been taking a lot of missions. Sometime together, sometimes apart. I miss you. I wish I wasn't knocked unconscious when you left. I would have loved to hear your voice one last time. I'm not giving up though. In between missions I ask around if people have any known locations of a star whale's path. I may come up empty handed but it won't stop me from trying. I know you're out there. We'll find you. I promise.

Yours always, (Y/N).

But Ezra wanted to look for one specific letter, the one Sabine said was written before your mission with Cassian Andor. Once he picked up the last journal, he realized it only had one entry in it.

Dear Ezra,

I'm so sorry my search has been quite fruitless. Sabine and I never gave up though. I write this last entry now a few days away from our intended mission. We still need to find a certain person but by then we'll be too busy fixing our plan and I won't be able to write anymore. Something about this mission tells me that it might be our last. The blueprints of the death star are highly guarded and the planet is crawling with empire scum. Cassian told me that, he believes we can all go home. I don't really believe that. I hope you won't be too mad or upset with me. I am doing this so that we can no longer live in fear for the next day. For what the empire might do to us. I know that wherever you may be, I know that my love will reach you. I hope Sabine can continue what we started and find a way to get you back. Perhaps in another life, we could have the life that we talked about in that field. Maybe more. I would have loved to see what our future would have been like. To grow old with you, build a life together and a home. In another life, I know we would have had a happy life but I would never ask you to change. My Starboy. My Ezra. My love. My heart is yours forever and always. May the force be with you.

Forever yours, (Y/N).

Ezra clutched that journal to his chest, letting his tears fall freely down his face. He has time to read the other journals next time but for now he wishes to close his eyes and dream of a life where he never left and you lived past twenty. But he knows that you'll always be with him. In the force and in his heart. In your words, He's forever yours.

[lunaopus]

sometimes i wonder what happens to authors who deactivate

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Prompt 10 with either Fives or a clone of your choice from @the-bad-batch-baroness list of prompts? 👉👈

The Long Way Home [Fives x Reader]

Prompt ten: "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "It's starting to rain."

List of all prompts found here [X]. Prompt will be highlighted in blue.

Warnings and Information: Wanting a taste of domesticity the moment he gets shore leave, Fives wants to spend the day with you doing general couple-ly things. A little shopping at the early winter markets of Coruscant, and utilizing every excuse to shower you in all the compliments he can to make up for lost time. When the weather has other ideas regarding your shared plans for the day, Fives is determined to make the best of a less than ideal situation. 

This is a general fluff + relationship fic at its core; friendly for all ages this go-round. Reader written with fem!reader in mind, not described save for minor notes about clothing and briefly implied (but not specified) height difference. Fives being a sweetheart. Sprinkling of Mando’a as a treat. As an additional treat, Order 66? Don't know her; Palpatine died and the Republic won the war. 🩷 2nd person POV. 

Word-count: 5,912

There's a knock at the front door of your residence, one you've been eagerly expecting most of the morning. You're quick to reach the door, keying him in so he can step inside where it's warm. He's late; which he had warned you about well in advance. And the first thing he offers before his usual hellos is an apology. 

A well-practiced one at that, from the warm cadence of his voice, brimming with just the right amount of shame.

“I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, mesh'la, I-”

You tug him close with the collar of his civilian wear (a thick, handmade sweater given to him by Hardcase who had recently taken up knitting since breaking one of his legs - so you're certain to handle it delicately) in a very practiced motion. As expected, it shuts him up just long enough to get a word in while he puts himself nose to nose with you. Practically close enough to taste the words on the others’ lips. “Hey. It's okay Fives. I understand the captain probably needed your help with something, or, you volunteered yourself to help. Again.” Your partner with his well-groomed goatee has a penchant for stepping up and lending a hand to a brother in need, brave and dependable to the end. 

Full lips dart apart, the tender flesh brushing over your own lips being this close is nigh impossible to avoid. “Are you teasing or expecting an answer?” Fives asks, hinting to his building confusion below a toothy grin. “Makin’ it hard to tell what you want when I can’t see all of your pretty face.”

That's fair of him to say, you should suppose. “Mostly teasing,” you promise him, at last permitting yourselves to kiss one another as part of the process - brief, chaste, sweet. “You know I wouldn't press you for details if it was classified ARC business.” You never have. Never will until you know the mission has been completed at least; because while you often burn with questions (as is only natural and expected in what was once a friendship, now a partnership) pertaining to his duties and practiced protocols within the GAR, you take the mantra “loose lips sink starships” very close to heart. 

Should you ever say something that could jeopardize the safety of the one you love, you’d never forgive yourself.

“No, not ARC business,” Fives offers at last, “I, uh… I told you I was gonna be running late because some of my brothers asked for my help with something kinda last minute.” The palm of his left hand strokes the back of his neck in a self-soothing fashion, a tell of either embarrassment or shame. “I couldn’t bring myself to say no…” 

“Young brothers?”

Fives only answers with a nod and an appeasing smile, knowing where this is going. 

“Star-struck little brothers wanting to ask what’s it like being an ARC trooper, and how they can train to be just like you?” you muse, exaggerating your train of thought with a couple of taps against your chin with the finger of your non-dominant hand, the other arm wrapped across your body.

It does not slip your notice how his tanned face begins to look a little flushed when you playfully bat your eyes at him for good measure, knowing what that kind of praise does to him combined with the light teasing. 

“More or less…” 

You giggle, not at him or at his expense, but more the mental image than anything. You can picture Fives, being as eager as he was to come see you now that he had shore leave, getting roped into regaling doe-eyed Clones with lengthy recountings of his service since becoming an ARC. All he wanted to do was peruse the early winter markets with you, the entire idea his from the start; and there he was, at least an hour of his precious free time used up already. All because he was too much of a selfless and wholeheartedly good person for his own good, on occasion. 

“I’m sure they appreciated you and Echo doing that.” Fives doesn’t have to mention his surviving squadmate, Echo, to know that the other half of the nicknamed Domino Twins had sacrificed his own time to answer a few (or a hundred, more rather) burning questions. “I’m sure the captain did, too.”

The humble grin is confirmation enough for you. You can continue to tease him later, however - you’re both wasting daylight the longer the two of you choose to linger in your comfortable Coruscanti apartment rather than getting the rest of your things ready. Light coats or other appropriate outerwear still needs to be gathered, the credits you’ve been setting aside for this occasion needs to come out of hiding, and he still needs to collect the rest of his civilian-wear he planned on wearing. There’s only so much space within trooper accommodations for everything he’s accumulated since the start of your relationship. Thick-knit hats, fleece-lined gloves, a scarf in 501st blue, things of that nature. 

And boots. It’d probably be wise to grab a pair of all-weather boots rather than tromp the markets in your slipper-socks, no matter how tempting the smooth streets would prove. 

Fives is ready far sooner than you, owing to how little he needed to add or change into to be more weather-ready, but he waits patiently. No teasing remarks for how long it takes you to disentangle a simple scarf from all the others, or the childlike nature of repeating the phrase that helped you remember how to tie your shoes even to this day, or any of the other silly little habits you comfortably show in front of him. There’s only a warm, endeared smile to be seen. He’s just happy to be here, to be in your presence after so long, and see all these little puzzle pieces into why he loves you as though for the first time, every time. 

“What are you staring at?” you ask with a bemused laugh bubbling up from your throat. Time to time, you struggle to figure your partner out, wondering what can be chalked up to his training and what can be passed off as quirks unique to him. You’ve gotten better with time and practice, being able to discern these instances. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, Fives?”

“Nothing more than perhaps the most beautiful person in all the galaxy, cyare.” Fives replies in earnest, dazzling you with one of those smiles that had charmed you since the very beginning. “And how I get to spend most of my first day of shore leave with that person, all to myself.”

Torn between scoffing and brushing him off with oh surely you can’t mean the most beautiful person thing and trying to shield your flushing face from view, so certain your cheeks must be scarlet red with all the flattery, you busy yourself with ensuring your door is locked and secure against unwelcome visitors. There’s been a minor rash of break-ins lately, and you know that a simple door lock won’t do anything to deter the truly determined - only the honest - it always seems to get a bit worse just before large deployments get shore leave… funny how that goes. 

At least you get a little help when it can be spared by those serving with the Corrie Guard, given your proximity to the senate buildings here. There was no small amount of surprise the day Commander Fox himself turned up at your doorstep to follow-up with a reported break-in for the unit above your own. He could claim he was there just to ask if you happened to notice anything, and nothing more than that, but you knew better. Working in loose relation to the complex goings-on with the Galactic Senate and the red-clad commander turning up only two hours after mentioning the incident to Fives was too big a coincidence to ignore. (You can only wonder what strings in the line of communication your smarty-pants of a boyfriend had to pull in order to get in touch with Commander Fox, directly.)

A smarty-pants that you had all kinds of preconceived plans to spend the rest of the day with, all to yourself. 

The ambling walk to the marketplace offers the pair of you plenty of time to catch up since you last spoke on the comms just over two weeks ago; it was a Zhellday if you're not mistaken. 

You don't really bring up your work if you can help it; the problems seem so trivial when you compare them to the frustrations of stamping out those stubborn pockets of Separatist resistance Fives and all his brothers have been dealing with since winning the war just a year ago. A malfunctioning caf-machine spraying your last clean work uniform seems like nothing compared to a desperate firefight against the horrifying, mechanical amalgamations the standard CIS battle droids have become as less and less functional droids become available. 

You have to ask Fives to be sure you heard him right after he says it. “Hold on: it had eight arms?” 

“Some Separatist-sympathizer - one who's, admittedly, crafty but incredibly elusive - has been a real pain in our shebs for a while now. ‘Case was so badly spooked by the crazy-looking clanker that he fell over backwards on a crate full of smuggled produce.” Fives explains, struggling not to laugh when explaining of all possible ways Hardcase recently broke his leg, it was falling over backwards on a box of illegal fruit and veg. 

“He’s okay, right?” you prod, “What'd Kix have to say about the break?” 

It's touching to Fives when you show your concern for his brothers, knowing you have genuine interest in their well-being. You always have. When you heard that the production of the cloning facilities were coming to an end on Kamino thanks to Chancellor Organa’s new bill, your immediate thought had been for the young cadets who had not yet finished training. 

What's going to happen to those little brothers, Fives? All the Clones still developing in the tubes and the nurseries and-

Mesh'la, with any luck, they'll become the envy of the entire GAR. They'll never have to taste war like we have if we squash out the remaining Separatists sooner than later. 

Fives gives the cuff to one of the sweater sleeves an experimental tug with a beaming smile. “Kix said the worst of it will be the bed rest for Hardcase. At least he's found a way to keep his hands busy between the physical therapy he has to do, thanks to Dogma.”

“Aww. That was kind of him.” you croon. He mirrors the relieved smile, sharing in your relief that his brother's injury was not as bad as you feared. He begins fishing through one of his pockets for something, saying he has a picture to show you. 

“Hardcase made Dogma the ugliest possible blanket using yarn we had scrounged up for him as a way of saying thanks. Thing's got all sorts of colors from baby pink, to brick red, even a smidge of neon yellow somewhere in there.” 

Without question, the immaculate bunk within the frame can be none other than Dogma's. Laid out in a uniform manner is a tidily-knit but disorganized rainbow of yarn in every shade of blue and a handful of other colors. (Sure enough, you can pick out the baby pink, the brick red, and the neon yellow Fives previously mentioned.) Honestly, you think it looks ugly only because there's no reason or order to any of the colors. A crisp, sky blue next to the imagined dryness of such a dusty shade of red is a bit jarring, visually. 

‘Case was likely working with the colors of yarn as he received them, if his brothers were coming up with loose odds and ends as Fives claims they did. 

You voice the question that crosses your mind the more you look at the image in your boyfriend's hand, “Does Dogma actually use the blanket, or is it just for show until it's time to sleep?” 

“Wondered that myself.” Fives admits to you with a cheeky wink between thumbing over to the next picture, a still of Dogma tucked under both the GAR-issued blanket and Hardcase’s, “It was so worth pretending to be asleep for forty-five minutes just to get Dogma to go to bed.” Dogma's always been the last to fall asleep within shared accommodations, so for the ARC trooper you're arm-in-arm with to have pulled the oldest trick in the book in order to get to the bottom of a low-stakes mystery, you can only imagine how disciplined you'd have to be to lay so still and silent for that long. 

“Why not just ask him in the morning?” you laugh, realizing how simple it would be to do just that rather than go through such efforts to trick someone into going to bed. Fives shrugs noncommittally in response before tucking his personal device away again, now that you're both within earshot of the outdoor winter market. 

It's bustling with activity, even for Coruscant. The pressing crowds and all-encompassing noise will make it difficult to carry on catching up in a meaningful manner for much longer. 

“Dogma's not much of a talker in the mornings, sweetheart.” Fives says with a chuckle. “Though to be fair, not a lot of us are either.” 

Strange… they've always seemed so… talkative and alert whenever you've had early morning communications with Fives. Those bleary-eyed video calls spent simply staring at the other, not too sure what to talk about in particular. The stolen minutes between breakfast in the mess hall and the barracks. (The lunch breaks where you've snuck off somewhere secret and pretended you're sharing the same ration, they've been talkative for certain!) Have you just done a poor job of noticing until now? Or are they better at masking how awake they truly are than you expect? But okay, fair enough. 

Now that you were here at the market, you’d be more than a little preoccupied to be thinking about it much longer, with Fives tucking his fingers between yours to prevent both of you from getting separated from the other. It’s rather busy; it must be the morning rush before everyone has to reluctantly shuffle off to work. And you should probably expect to have more than a few elbows - or entirely unaware people - knock into you and Fives while you’re here. 

What catches Fives’ eye first is a female Besalisk vendor with armfuls of rain repellers for sale (one for five credits, or two for ten) with a business partner checking news sources for reports on the weather nearby.

“Ah… knew there was something I forgot to check before getting to your apartment.” He says, quickly casting his eyes skyward. Certainly enough, there are rain clouds gradually building overhead. Strange. While it is technically early winter, this time of year typically has a weird, transitional period regarding the weather. Not quite past the sometimes cold and drizzly days of autumn, but still too early to dust off your proper snow coats from where they've been hiding in the back of your closet. 

“Let’s get one to be safe.” you suggest with a reassuring squeeze of your hand in his. If you buy one of the repellers and end up never using the thing, then you were over-prepared with little consequence. Having one more thing to carry wouldn’t be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, surely. “Hi,” you address the vendor cheerfully, “a repeller for five credits, right?”

“That’s right! Pick whichever one you’d like, dears.” she tells you with a kind wink, thrusting the set of arms bearing all of the rain repellers a little further for your inspection. 

Fives wastes little time in selecting a repeller with a sleek and subtle design, something he thinks you’d like, perhaps. He’s incredibly thoughtful in that and many other ways. It’s one of the many parts of him that you ache for in his absence, the fondness for his charisma and slight cheek only deepening when he’s away, aiding in the peacekeeping efforts now that the galaxy is largely free of the Separatists. (How strange that things fell apart so suddenly for them, following shortly after the rather untimely and unexplained death of Sheev Palpatine (that, surely, can’t be related, right?) just last year.) You know he’s not giving up the fight just because they say the Seppies have surrendered, not when there’s still work to be done to make the galaxy safer for everyone. 

Fives isn’t still fighting the good fight just for his brothers, but for you too. Every last far-flung outpost they capture, each bubble of resistance they burst, it’s always the same message that finds its way to you, no matter the time and no matter the distance. 

For the Republic. For my brothers. For my Kar’ta. Talk to you soon, sweet. 

Both of you thank the vendor, and set off on your way, imagining what curiosities and delights could be found by the two of you together on this cold Coruscanti morning here in the intergalactic market. With a cultural hotbed like this - a diverse focal point in the heart of the galaxy with a population of roughly two trillion that is Coruscant - there’s no telling what you and Fives will see, from the familiar to the fascinating. 

In a dramatic, sweeping gesture Fives invites you to lead the way into the heart of the market with a dizzying grin, promising to follow wherever you roam.

“After you, angel.” 

You’ll only be there for an hour before the increasingly-inclement weather decides to become a little more concerning. Those cotton-soft clouds, planted in the lofty airspace high over even the tallest sentient lifeforms’ head(s), are beginning to appear denser and darker than they were when you set off this morning. Weather reports you peek at while Fives discusses something with a Tatoonine-born vendor suggests you might have another hour before proper rainfall.

“You say the yarn’s a bantha-blend, right?” Fives clarifies, gingerly juggling a few twisted hanks of it in his hands to get a feel for the softness. “Would it work for projects meant for… say, kids?” The vendor’s eyes flick to you, just for a second, and you can imagine what she’s thinking. Your partner catches that too, so Fives clarifies further. “Someone I know had twins last year. Tryin’ to, uh, contribute to a special present for the little ones. Brother of mine got some good yarn from Naboo to represent the mother. I was asked to find something to represent their father while I was here, if I could.” 

As could be expected, the yarn-seller is now tittering excitedly about how sweet it is that he and this unspecified brother (who’s definitely either Jesse or Kix) are looking to put together something for this ‘someone they know’ who had twins. Sweet little twins who you’ve happened to see crawling around the floors of the senate building out of the corner of your eye, as a matter of fact. But you’ve been aware of the “open secret” nature of the Skywalker-Amidala twins for some time now, and know you’re supposed to treat it like it’s more of a classified matter than it is in reality. 

Yeah, how strange that Senator Amidala and General Skywalker spend a lot of time together. Or that little Luke and Leia show up in the Jedi Temple on occasion, just as a last minute “favor” to the Senator - of course! 

“Yes, the yarn should be appropriate for the little ones!” the vendor promises, exchanging the appropriate credits as change from what Fives hands her as payment before gingerly bagging the hanks of bantha-yarn for him. “You’ll find a card with the best care instructions with your purchase inside the bag. Thank you for your business, folks.” 

When you've stepped beyond the earshot of the yarn-seller, now again arm-in-arm with Fives as you meander the little sector that seems to be dedicated to all things Tatooine, you feel it's safe to tease. 

“You're getting better at lying, Fives.” 

“Mesh'la-” Fives warns you.

“Okay, okay… Stretching the truth, if that's what you insist on calling it, mister ARC trooper.” you add. 

Fives doubles down on the insistent, close to disapproving tone. “Mesh'la… I've told you several times now, you know why we treat it like a secret.” 

“I know, Fives, I was only teasing.” you promise, offering an apologetic expression. 

You understand the faux secrecy is largely in relation to the response of some members of the Jedi Council when the inevitable truth about Senator Amidala and not just one child, but two, came to light. There's been a great deal of speculation from the 501st Legion of Anakin Skywalker’s expulsion from the Order; speculation that has them worried. Selfless to the end, the Clones are just as concerned for the fate of their General as they are about their own.

You change the subject as you pass a stall brimming with food-based goods from the Outer Rim planet, a warm, spicy odor cutting through the ambient smell of chilled steel and duracrete surfaces. Looks to be samples of an alteration to bantha steak soup. Something being offered to the market-goers to warm them up as the temperatures fall day by day, or hour by hour.

“Remind me: ever tried any food from Tatooine?” 

“Some of it's decent.” Fives admits with a chuckle. “Or, it will at least beat having rations for every meal. But nothing beats your cooking, cyare.” 

Your cooking, among many things, is what Fives has been looking forward to most about today, about shore leave. A chance to come home, a chance to catch one another up on the things they’ve missed (things too important or lengthy to say over comms), and a chance for splitting a hearty meal practically invented for sharing with the ones who mean the most to us. Same thing with coming to the market. Fives didn’t want to do a little shopping just to see what was new on Coruscant; he wanted to spend a little time with you away from home first, maybe find something special to buy to mark the occasion.

To be home after so long is a very special thing indeed.

“Hope you’re in the mood for soup tonight.” It’s a little simple, you tell him, but no less comforting or flavorful. “Didn’t know how tired you’d be, when you came home this time.”

“You spoil me.” Fives murmurs lovingly, craning his neck for the moment to plant a sweet, gentle kiss in the crown of your hair and against your temple. His full lips are warm, and where you’ve been kissed seems to glow with that warmth compared to the surrounding chill. “What’d I do to deserve you, kar’ta?”

There’s that word again. Pronounced KARH-ta, as he’s taught you.

It's Mando’a, meaning heart.

“Well, you kept the galaxy safe,” you answer with a sweet smile, “I think that’s a pretty deserving reason, don’t you?”

The warm, heartened smile is all you have to see to know he feels the same way. He helped keep the galaxy safe, yes; of course he should deserve to live a good life with everything said and done. With every bill and law passed towards the betterment of life for Clones after the war, it tastes like the sweetest victory, over and over again. If there was anyone more deserving of thanks, it was the mighty multitude of men who came from Kamino. 

As you’re turning the corner of a larger booth within the sprawling outdoor market, Fives mentions that somewhere down the lane he can hear a live performer playing covers of popular songs on what must be a hallikset. 

“Must be another one of your little soldier tricks,” you tell him with an impressed shake of your head, “I can’t hear any of that. What’s a hell- hall-? Wait, what did you call it?” How did he pronounce that so easily? 

You’re not surprised with many a Clones’ proclivity to be little cultural sponges that Fives seems to have the answer ready for you before you can pull something out of your pocket to search up the instrument he mentioned for yourself. “Halliksets are seven-stringed instruments popular on Naboo. Here, let’s get a little closer.” Fives offers, leading the way ahead to where he hears the music coming from. He wants you to be able to hear it better, to experience it for yourself. Appreciate it fully.

You momentarily pity the player’s poor fingers once you get closer, noting how red with cold they are. Like you, the hallikset’s owner is wrapped in layers between a thick jacket, a gray hood and a long scarf wrapped around their neck. But with the beautiful way they play, plucking and strumming each perfectly tuned string, you wonder if they don't notice, or care. Perhaps the lack of gloves to keep their hands safely warded against the cold is worth it to them for the amount of credits they're pulling in. There's several fistfuls at least, all piled up in the open instrument case. 

“Wow… I don't think I've ever seen one before, but it's beautiful; it's a beautiful instrument.” you offer your observation to Fives after spending a few minutes to simply stand and listen to the performer. Buskers, you believe they're called, playing for voluntary donations in public settings. 

The busker offers an appreciative grin, playing on smoothly without pausing the performance for even a moment as they bob their head in thanks for your compliment. 

“Certainly is, mesh'la.” Fives agrees. He dips a hand into one of his pockets, and adds a couple of credits to the pile in the instrument case. As a way of thanks, the song that was currently being played is masterfully morphed into one of the more familiar military anthems of the Republic, just for a moment. 

The performer, a young-looking Twi'lek, has of course recognized that Fives is a Clone, and is hoping to acknowledge what the Republic has done for Ryloth in some small way by playing something a soldier would recognize. Fives is equal parts flattered and amused, even if he himself may never have gone to Ryloth, that he's being thanked and acknowledged like this. 

“Heh. You're welcome, kid.” 

Putting his free arm around you as you decide to listen to the hallikset a little longer, you and Fives listen to the best recognized music forms of Ryloth start up from the instrument as further homage. You lay your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, leaning into his side a little deeper with a placid smile, drinking in this moment. 

Close to an hour later, when more yarn for Hardcase, a few decorative knick knacks for your apartment, and some novelty sweets have ended up among your purchases, someone’s stomach rumbles in complaint shortly before the time you would typically consider having lunch. Luckily Echo has offered to help you locate something by sending you a file to a map of the market with all consumables stalls highlighted and labeled after checking in on how things are going for you and Fives. 

While Fives quickly speaks with his brother and squadmate, you check the weather. Steadily, it’s only gotten colder, and in efforts to keep you warmer, Fives has sweetly given up his thick-knit hat for the time being until you come across another stall that offers cold-weather wear. There, he’ll find another hat for himself, suggesting you keep his. The fluffy curls of his clone-standard crew cut have been flattened a bit by the hat, amusingly. As a sweet gesture, you try to fix up his hair for him while listening to what Echo has to say.

 Force willing, as it’s only becoming more and more likely that it'll rain, that will be after you grab a quick bite to eat. 

(Pantoran food sounds good right about now.)

“Me? Oh, all was quiet on the homefront - busy playing a strategy game against Rex. Until we got ambushed by a couple of giggling womp rats.”

Fives grins like a nexu. “Brothers’ kids or the General’s?”

“Tup’s little boys,” Echo answers jovially between peals of bubbling laughter in the background, “things are getting a bit rowdy here, so you two better go. Enjoy your lunch and the rest of the market; I’ll tell everyone you both said hi.” 

“Thanks Echo.”

“We’ll talk later, Echo.” you promise. “Also, I’m keeping your brother all to myself tonight.” Echo’s laugh promises that’s fine by him. He trusts you’ll take good care of Fives, like he takes good care of you in turn. He’ll pass along the information that everyone will see Fives again the following morning. The Clone with the Aurebesh ‘5’ permanently inked on his right temple can only offer an eager smile. 

A homemade meal and the promise of staying the night when it wasn’t previously discussed? What better way to end a day than that? Fives walks with a spirited spring in his step, just short of tugging you along after him at first before you match his pace and revel in that excitement together. 

Excitement that quickly turns to surprise with the first of the rain starting to fall over the market. There’s a particularly heavy raindrop that lands with an audible spatter on Fives’ left shoulder. He chuckles, the sound somewhere between an amused ‘of course…’ and a nervous ‘uh-oh’. He’s patting down his deep pockets for wherever he’s stashed the rain repeller purchased earlier, since it could very well start raining steadily by the time you reach one of the food stalls that peddles any Pantoran cuisine.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, eyes flicking skyward between some of the many imposing, glinting skyscrapers that make up the surface of the ecumenopolis. It’s a small relief that you’re not quite out in the open, like you would be if the market had taken place in a location like Monument Plaza, at the least. If the rain got intense, fast, Fives could easily squeeze the pair of you into a dry alcove somewhere in the absence of the repeller now in his hands.

“Hm? Feel what?” you wonder just before you feel another droplet glance off your own coat. “Oh.” 

So much for getting lunch…

“It’s starting to rain.” the two of you say at once. And while it’s not quite sleet, it certainly feels close to it every time the stray droplet finds a patch of exposed skin. The idle prattle of buyers and sellers shifts in tone; a few surprised shouts here and there while vendors urgently cover their wares, and a few shoppers brushing past panickedly exclaim that they’re faced with taking the long way home because of street-closures tied to the event-space.

Thankfully that won’t be the case for you and Fives with the direction you came from your apartment, so long as the dispersing crowds allow. 

Opening the repeller, Fivers now pulls you closer, trying to fit it over both of you best he can. “Here, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want you to get cold and wet… That wouldn’t be a very pleasant combination, now would it?”

“No,” you agree with a little wag of your head, “buuuut, heading back to my apartment and calling in an order for delivery sure does.”

Fives brings up an excellent suggestion while you busy yourself with making sure all your purchases are safely in your arms before the pair of you about-face and make for home. “With a movie to watch, too, right?” Oh Maker, there are so many films you could choose from to watch; there’s always something new that you learn your beloved hasn’t seen, being so wrapped up in the pan-galactic war and its aftermath. Even films you don’t particularly care for become tolerable when you’re snuggled on some comfortable two-seater together, your head planted against his chest as he runs his hands through your hair in idle fashion.

You’re wholeheartedly in support, already impatient to burrow into that large, fluffy blanket with him.

Cupping his face in one hand, you kiss his cheek best you can as you walk, copying his deliberate stride. “That sounds like a great idea, Fives.” It’s kind of a shame that the weather put a bit of a damper on how long you had in mind about spending at the market, you add with a soft sigh.

He smiles, encouraging you not to let it get you down. “Not gonna let a little rain ruin my first day of shore leave, so long as I get to spend it with you, ner kar’ta.” Fives promises, being his sweet, joking self by downplaying the amount of rain. It’s gotten past ‘just a little rain’ at this point in time, with puddles forming atop the duracrete surfaces, some with multi-color veneers to them where the oils previously soaked into the street float to the top. 

As the freezing rain builds in strength, it patters and trickles off the rain repeller in thick rivulets while Fives holds it over each of your heads - it’s kind of a tight fit underneath, but neither mind. Making sure both of you and your purchases remain relatively dry means it’s a slow, steady march back home. It’s probably taking you twice as long to get back home than it was to get there. You could be taking some long, convoluted path, and you wouldn’t mind a bit with the way Fives has one of his arms so lovingly, kindly wrapped around the small of your back, both to hold you close, and to make sure you hear him when he talks.

“I’ve got a few stories to tell from this last deployment, besides ‘Case breaking his leg.” he starts, a note of mirth in his tone. “But there was one thing I kept thinking about, more than anything.” Fives adds, the slow cadence suggesting this is important.

Before you permit your mind to race with the possibilities, the many guesses you have, you bob your head, encouraging him to go on. 

“I’m listening.”

He wastes no time, sure of his words, but maybe not how to say them. “I wanted to ask if maybe now’s a good time to… Y’know. We might start thinking about a couple of things, now that the war’s over, and things are getting safer…?” You could practically swoon, knowing what he’s trying to tell you. What he’s thought about while he’s been deployed with those who’ve chosen to remain in service to the GAR for just a little longer, aiming to finish the job they’d been made for. 

For the Republic. For his brothers.

For you, his heart.

How would you feel about spending the rest of our lives together, cyare?

“Sounds like a good conversation to have over dinner.” is all you’ll suggest for the time being, bringing his face close once more for another caste kiss with the door of your apartment in sight. 

If you’d known he’d had this on his mind just a little sooner, or there was no premature rainfall to dampen your plans, maybe you would have suggested taking the long way home after all, just for the fun of it.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose Taglist form can be found here if you would like to make sure you don't miss a fic in the future. Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading and requesting. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: CLOSED]

[slightly-ace]

im so horrendously on and off tumblr, but occasionally i remember that it exists and post about something

anyways i have a Cal Kestis spider-man au and i wanted to share because i think its neat :3

Like any experienced, put-together superhero, his first instinct was to just… freeze, staring at you with equally wide eyes. In his defense, this was the second time he’s encountered you as Spider-Man, and he didn’t have the urgency of a supervillain trying to crush him to spur the interaction on. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t have the whole Spider-Man persona perfected; he knew all the ways Spider-Man differed from Cal Kestis, knew exactly what to emphasize in order to keep the two sides of his coin completely separate, but something about being in this specific situation with you made his brain stutter, and he was blue screening. If you listened closely, you could probably hear the obnoxious drone of the Windows error screen plastered over the coherent thoughts in his brain. 

“Uh,” you chuckled awkwardly, so, clearly nervous, “hi?” 

You lifted one hand in a little, two-fingered wave, the other one tucked into the pocket of your jacket, and it occurred to Cal that he should probably greet you back. 

“Hey,” he said, mortified at the way his voice cracked in the middle of the word.

[snippet from an unpublished chapter. first one is up on ao3]

[renlyslittlerose]

Of Good Men and Monsters

Rating: E

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Chapter: 23/32

Summary:  Let me share in your life,” Anakin whispered. He pressed in close, their noses brushing. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pushed himself back against the wall, but Anakin followed him. “Let me sleep with your heart beneath my hand, your pulse against my lips, your cock between my thighs. Let me live through you. Let me be a part of your humanity.

–

Anakin was a boy made of magics and gilded in prophecy, his story unendingly important to the universes in all their multitude; Obi-Wan was nothing of the sort, humble in origin and in manner. Fate saw it fit to bring them together, the two sworn to fight the forces of darkness in whichever way it appears.

But prophecies are tricky things. When Anakin is turned by a vampire who follows an ancient cult known only as The Sith, Obi-Wan is forced to navigate his feelings for the demonic entity that has lay claim to his gilded boy, all the while trying to prevent an apocalypse centuries in the making.

[leucisticpuffin]

In the centre was an enormous table fashioned from a slab of oak, with long benches on either side, and this was where we were directed to sit (...) The room was lined with wooden cabinets and a huge chest of drawers like the kind you might find in a haberdashery shop. On every shelf and every surface were bottles and jars and bowls and pots, and on the walls were olive-green tiles and rows of hooks from which spatulas and measuring spoons hung. Even the windowsill was put to use: here herbs grew in small pots.

Some more art for the AU -- the manor house kitchen! Feat. Maglor helping the twins with their homework while Maedhros checks his recipe book.

(There is also supposed to be a pan rack hanging from the ceiling, but I couldn't work out how to draw that in an isometric cut-away view. Imagine it's there.)

Time taken: approximately 33h, plus far too much time researching antique kitchen utensils.