#you do know you can write them not going to war every five seconds? let them process their trauma at least.

[kosmicpowers]

Me to Masami Kurumada.

Sir. you forgot your characters are 13 again

girl i don’t know how to say this. that’s not a found family that’s a platoon of child soldiers.

[curseofaphrodite]

Midnight Chase

REGULUS BLACK X READER

one more marauders fic before I move onto Avengers :) Also, I keep writing Reggie as moody and silent so I wanted to explore the headcanon of him being more like his brother. Have some flirty and sarcastic Regulus for a change!

"Let's try to see this in a positive light," James said, in the middle of the pitch-dark forest which was possibly infested with dementors or worse. "We could think of this as camping!"

Your groan was in sync with Lily's.

"Right, Sirius? Didn't we always want to go camping—?"

"Oh I don't know, I'm not sure I find the death-eaters-made-us-dissapparate-to-an-unknown-forest-while-a-literal-war-is-going-on part all too pleasant!" Sirius replied, which was the closest to a disagreement he had with James. The latter feigned hurt.

"We're all tired," you sighed. "Let's just find a place to rest and we can go back to the headquarters in the morning."

"What if it's too late then?" Sirius said, almost nervous. His mood being depressive was very unlike his usual self, but you weren't too surprised either. The Order was the closest thing to a family Sirius had, and it seemed as if everyone's lives were hanging on by a thread.

"We'll be fine," James, ever the mother of the group, tried his cheerfulness again. "I'll pull up Hogly's tent charm and—"

"No!" Lily said quickly. "Are you stupid? Don't answer that. If we use magic, there's a good chance they'll trace us to where we are."

"But we're of age," Sirius said, outraged. "The Ministry wouldn't trace us — unless, yeah they're infiltrated. That makes sense."

"No magic?" James's mouth fell open. "At least we could use lumos?"

"No," you shook your head. "It's better not to take any chances."

"But then how would we see?"

Even in the darkness, you could feel Lily's gaze on the back of your head. Being two muggle-born witches of the group, you realized there was a lot you needed to do to survive the night.

"Bring me a couple of sticks. And dried leaves. Lots of them."

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THREE HOURS LATER

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Light snores came around you, but you were far from asleep. If your guess was right, it was over two in the morning, so the sun would be coming up soon anyway. It took everything in you to focus on the stars and not on the events that led you to apparate here.

Y/N! Get out of the way! Moody had yelled as the death eaters appeared. It was your first time seeing them in cloaks and lifeless masks. You felt exposed, but with the headquarters three feet away, you couldn't run in and let the death eaters follow you.

Moody's sound from the inside had already tipped them off, but they couldn't find the location of the safehouse as long as the charms held up.

Feet rooted to the spot, you felt ashamed to feel your hands shaking.

Can't even hold my wand right, you thought to yourself. And as if on point, your friends had gotten out of the house and placed themselves by your side. If you couldn't get in, they weren't going to let you get outnumbered on your own.

Sirius, Lily, and James were three of the bravest people you knew, but you couldn't let them get hurt on your behalf.

So you did what you should have done at the start. You held on to Lily's hand who grabbed James by instinct. Sirius was to your left, so you placed your other hand on his shoulder, and with every inch of your determination left, you disapparated on the spot.

Now with the same guilt washing over you, was it even a surprise that you couldn't sleep? You won't rest your eyes for five seconds before you let your friends get in the headquarters safely without any nasty surprises.

A soft rustle interrupted your dark thoughts. Being hyper-alert as you were, you snapped your neck towards the source. Another rustle rang out — this one sharper than the last. You stood up, cautiously walking to the root of the sound.

Bunny. Please let it be a soft, cute bunny.

You held your wand high, and someone — a human — let out a startled sound. More rustles followed, and before you could figure out what was happening, a person dashed off right in front of you.

"Hey, STOP!" Was it stupid to follow a stranger in the middle of nowhere simply because they appeared scared? Yes. Did you do it anyway? Also yes.

Both of you sprinted through the forest, the trees being a bare blur. They refused to slow down, so you kept up the chase. The adrenaline helped through most of it though the unknown silhouette was almost non-human in its speed. You pushed harder with your muscles burning, and finally, with a hopeless leap, you collided with the stranger.

They hit the ground hard, rolling over the damp earth. The impact knocked the wind from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the rough fabric and the stranger's hood fell back.

You gasped.

"Regulus?!"

He looked shocked to the core, either from your strength or from the fact you knew his name.

"How do you even know me?" he asked, his voice a whisper from all the gasping for air.

You pointed your wand at his throat.

"Well, you're a little unrecognizable without your mask."

His face drained what's remaining of the blood.

"I just wanted to — can you stop poking that thing inside my nose?"

"I'll poke it wherever I want, you traitorous little scrumbag!"

"I thought you were above that sort of thing."

"Why would you think I'm above name calling?"

"No, the poke it wherever you want part."

Your face reddened. "Shut up while I decide what to do with you."

He laughed. "I'm sorry, it's like you're not hearing yourself!"

Why the fuck is the usual depressed emo Regulus Black as happy as can be? Then again, it was the midnight in a deadly forest so he might have felt right at home.

"That's it, I'm charming your mouth shut." You pointed the wand even further, and he let out an ouch!

"I'm telling you again, get that thing out of my face before I sneeze all over it."

"Ewww," you stood up on instinct, and he used that moment to get his own wand and point at you.

A moment passed.

"You're so... crude," you said in distaste. "I thought you weren't supposed to be like your brother?"

"Something to do with genetics, I assume." He smiled warmly. "Now, I'm only going to say this once."

"Expelliarmus!" you shrieked.

Nothing happened.

He sighed. "I'm skilled in occulumency. I used a shielf charm the moment you said expel. Spells always have too many syllables, don't they?"

You lowered your wand in exasperation. He did the same.

"What do you want?"

"Didn't realize this land belonged to you."

"You could have disapparated the second you saw me. Why didn't you? Why are you here in the first place?"

"The Dark Lord sent me."

You tilted your head and thought for a second. "I highly doubt he'd send only one of his death eaters if he knew where we were, let alone the youngest and most inexperienced."

He gasped, just as dramatic as Sirius. "Are you saying I came here just to be pinned down by you?"

Yup, exactly like Sirius.

"Barty has pull in the Ministry," he went on under your shrewd glance. "I tracked down my brother."

"But we never did any magic here..."

"I've been tracking him since he left home."

You blinked in surprise. "You what?"

"Just to make sure he's alright. . . though I doubt you'd believe it."

A man in moonlight trying to explain his sins. You'd be a fool to believe his words. And even more stupid to ignore them altogether.

"What do you want?" you asked again.

"I was just checking in on my brother, as usual. And I saw someone stargazing. I recognized it was you."

"And?"

His gaze softened, then he immediately cleared his throat. "And I was wondering if you'd speak aloud like some damsels in distress do. I thought I could reply from the trees and surprise you like the skies have replied. But you didn't move, nor did you speak."

"Do you usually go to Elizabethan english when you lie, or is that a quirk?"

He laughed, though it appeared forced. "Trust me, I was just caught leaving."

"Why didn't you disapparate then?"

"Do you honestly think they'd only track the Order? I wasn't going to take any chances."

Regulus Black was... nice?

"Well, I'm not sure how much I trust your words," you said, face high. "Come back with me to see Sirius, and let him make something out of all of this."

"No." It's the first time he sounded serious through the entire conversation. "My brother hates me. He does. I don't want to talk to him."

"But—"

"Y/N." His voice was stern. "I have to go. Take care of my brother — just until I'm back, okay?"

"You'll be back?"

"I've to take care of something," he said, his hands unconsciously touching his locket. "But after that, I'd be back. The freest man in the continent, you'd say."

"I don't trust you."

"So you've said." He walked towards you, giving you a quick hug. It felt awkwardly sweet, as if he's giving a hug for the very first time. You froze, but before you could do anything, he already let go.

"Time's running short," he grinned. "Now, the real chase begins. Do start running."

"Wait, wha—"

But he had already gone, disappeared in the blink of an eye. How can he disapparate if he said he wasn't going to take any chances?

Oh shit.

You remembered how you broke the protection first when you tried to disarm him. How the expeliarmus might have made death eaters alert. Regulus Black had cleverly evaded the scene and you probably had seconds to warn others.

You disapparated on the spot to your makeshift tent, but not before looking at the spot Regulus Black had previously stood.

I'd be back.

You found yourself hoping that was a promise and not a possibility.

THE END

_________

commissions | kofi

[kookinglikeachef]

Can you write SVT members you think would jump in a fight with/for you? Who’s getting their ass beat and who’s not helping?!

Thx.

kookinglikeachef: With all of the bickering and unserious fighting they do, I expect them to turn into MMA fighters for you. This is all jokes!!

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Definitely jumping in:

Seungcheol

Is always ready to square up when it comes to you. Will not let anyone lay a single fingernail on you. In fact, you can’t even help. He’d shut your ass up and tell you to go somewhere while he handled the mf trying to put hands on his baby.

Joshua

Looks pretty and soft but he’s stomping bitches into the dust for you. K.O.’s left and right. Will not hesitate to fuck someone up. He’s a little unhinged.

Woozi

TRUST. HE IS DOGGING ANY AND EVERYBODY TRYING TO STEP TO YOU. Height is nothing cause at any time of the muthafkng day he’s never letting these heaux forget. PLAYTIME BEEN TF OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Getting your shit rocked together:

Jeonghan

Girl.. he brought his emotional support sword to the fight. Endearing but just take your L.

Jun

If he sees you losing, he’s going in like he Bruce Lee. Gives you a little advantage to get your two piece combo in. Both still walking away a little banged up but the aftercare and nursing each other’s wounds would be so good!

Hoshi

Makes sure you don’t get snuck. Ready to go to war to defend you when your hair is getting pulled and in return he’s getting flamed up as well. Tries to save your hair extensions and you’re both laughing about the situation afterwards.

Seungkwan

He’s probably the reason you’re in a fight because he looked at someone the wrong way. His strength is verbal (talking shit). I’m sorry but both of you got busted up.

Crying, shaking, and throwing up:

Dokyeom

Running around trying to stop people recording. Tries to calm you down but can’t even calm himself. So flustered and afraid you might hit him as well.

Mingyu

Pathetically on his knees begging you to stop. He doesn’t like when you’re angry and is trying to control his anger at the same time. Eventually grabs you and throws you over his shoulder as you continue to cuss the other person out.

Dino

Whether you’re beating ass or getting folded like an omelette, the fight has ruined him. He’s got nothing left. He’s drained. Mentally, emotionally, and dehydrated from crying. There aren't any words. His hands are fucking shaking. He needs to lie down.

Not helping at all:

Wonwoo

Does not know what to do. Wondering if he should break up the fight but you’re handling your own. Would be too worried about you to ask why you were fighting in the first place. Takes care of any wounds you may have gotten.

Minghao

Please. Why are you embarrassing him?! Yes, he can wreck bitches but you’re being scowled at right now. He might just beat your ass when you finishing whooping the other person. Takes you home to meditate all that negativity away.

Vernon

Genuinely has no idea what’s going on. He’s just watching and recording in amusement. Every five seconds he’s yelling: “oh shit” when you get smacked up. Doesn’t realize it’s you who’s fighting until he tries calling you to tell you all about it and the ringing is coming from the person in a headlock. Immediately jumps in to pull you away and hides your face from anyone else who might be recording to save you from further embarrassment. You’re also very pissed at him, btw.

[tiredfox64]

Hellooo! First of all, I love your fics, especially Tomas's. They are very entertaining and the way you write is just great ^^

This is more of a question than a request, although you can develop it further if you want.

How would the linkuei trio react to a s/o who says "I hate men... except you"

It came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was funny 🙃

There Are Exceptions

Prior notes: Hehehe I throughly enjoyed writing this. Also I forgot to say this with other people’s requests who gave me compliments but thank you so much for liking my writing! (*´∀｀*)

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Men

Bi-Han

These dim witted, nitwit goobers who serve your husband are too much to handle. All they know how to do is punch and kick. They have no other survival instincts that can save their asses.

It’s so tiring being the one to try to help them with whatever. A woman can only do so much.

You tried teaching them how to sew only for them to say something stupid like it’s a woman’s hobby. Forget about cooking. You have never seen someone screw up scramble eggs so much that it doesn’t even form. How the fuck does it stay watery? And why are you the only one who knows how to fold clothes? Screw steaming out their wrinkles.

Your last straw today came in the nighttime when one of the clansmen came up to you and ask the most stupidest question you have ever heard.

“Uhm, some of the men were telling me that a woman’s period was when she peels her skin every month. Is that true? Cause if it is you hide it well.” This clueless assassin…oh goodness.

You just stared blankly at the young man. It had to be a joke, right? They can’t be that stupid. Actually, you don’t want to know if they are that stupid. You walked away briskly with one thing on your mind and you had to shout it out. The moment you walk into your bedroom you slammed the door shut and screamed,

“I hate men!”

Bi-Han was already in bed, waiting for you to come around. He stared at you with that grumpy expression he always has before folding his arms in front of his chest. A low grumble was being emitted by him.

How can you say you hate men when you are married to one? One that treats you like the queen you are considered you are the grandmaster’s wife. He is also one who pleasures you till you are fully satisfied. Course, it’s more like you have to go on until he is satisfied.

“…except you.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I should be the exception here. I am the grandmaster, I deserve your full respect.” Bi-Han reminded you of his role as if he doesn’t do so every day.

“And you are also my husband,” you walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Now would you mind spooning me for tonight.”

“After that outburst, I am unsure if you deserve it.” Now he’s just being petty.

You pouted as you changed into your sleepwear. If Bi-Han looked for at least five seconds he would have caved. But he looked away immediately to prevent himself from changing his decision. You huffed as you slipped into bed. You went on your side and pretended like you didn’t care. You did because you always lost the idgaf war.

“Please, I love you.” You said over your shoulder.

Bi-Han let out a groan before turning over and wrapping his arms around your waist. Haha you win.

You may not like men but you love this man. You like this man because he’s your man.

Kuai Liang

Why does no one think of the logical answer to something?

You go out to the market all the time so you could help feed the Shirai Ryu. It helps lessen responsibilities for your husband. But even this simple task is made difficult and stupid because of some of the venders. More specifically the men.

You asked for watermelon and they hand you plastic containers with the funkiest bits of watermelon. They are discolored and are definitely past their ripeness. Yet they all tell you it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s not good quality! Why even cut the watermelon in the first place you can do it yourself!

You want some mangos? Well you can’t fucking have any because they don’t got it. Oh what’s that? A BUNCH OF FUCKING MANGOS RIGHT BEHIND THEM! And they tell you that those are honey mangoes you didn’t specifically ask for those. They told you no because they thought you wanted Haden mangoes. Just give the woman a fucking mango!

You’re so over those male venders. They never even help you pack the carts up.

You’re too tired went you get back to the temple. You let everyone else pack the food away without helping out this time. You can’t be bothered. You take your shoes off, step into the temple, and sigh heavily.

“I hate men.” You groaned.

You didn’t realize Kuai Liang was coming up to you to greet you. You looked up and saw his face. He stared blankly with a bit of concern.

“…except you.”

You wanted to make it right so you ran up to him, giving him many kisses and hugging him.

“What has made you so hateful, my love? Did someone at the market bother you?” He asked with concern.

Kuai Liang was not at all mad at what you said. He found it odd which meant there was something wrong. His hands went up to check if maybe it was something physical. He would hate to find out you were hurt while out. What kind of husband would he be if he can’t protect his wife?

“Many people bothered me at the market today. Some people are unfortunate stupid.” You replied.

“Perhaps you can tell me all about it in bed. I’ll make you some tea to help with the stress.” He took your hands as you both walked to the bedroom.

Kuai Liang is the kind of man you need in your life. If only the men at the market had his intelligence. Though you do like being cared for when there is any sign of distress from you. It makes you feel like a princess.

Tomas

To help train the Earthrealm champions is like trying to train a seal, a kangaroo, a bison, and a Komodo dragon to leap at least a meter out of the water. One will succeed, another will jump but not reach it, another one won’t try to jump, and the other will be too busy trying to mate with you.

They are all nice in their own way but Johnny is the worst of them all. You tell him you are happily married and it’s in one ear and out the other. Just because his marriage failed doesn’t mean yours has to.

Kenshi is alright he just has stubborn. He believes it’s nerves that wins fights. If that were true why does he keep failing to you. And when he is not going against you he’s going after Johnny’s throat. You get it, Johnny won’t give back Sento. But now is not the time to bust his ass.

Kung Lao just gets on everyone’s nerves. You have never seen a bunch of monks ready to implode and strangle someone. Don’t forget that you almost lost your head because he flung his hat in the wrong direction. All you got back was a small ‘sorry’ before he took his hat and ran off.

And Raiden…he’s fine. He’s done no wrong.

Yet no matter what you always have to return and help the fools. You give and give and what do you receive? Hell!

You are exhausted when you return home. You don’t talk to anyone you just go straight to your bedroom. You let out a groan the whole time and when the door closes you let that groan become words.

“I hate men.”

Tomas was already waiting for you in the bedroom. He was walking up to you to hug you until he heard those words. He looked concerned and even a little sad.

Well he’s a man, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He hopes he didn’t, he doesn’t want an unhappy wife.

Your attitude immediately went away at the sight of Tomas.

“…except you.”

You ran into his arms and hugged him tight. You could never hate a man like Tomas. He is your husband after all. You picked a good one compared to all the other men that you have seen.

“I’m guessing they upset you again.” He asked.

You nodded. The day is already over you don’t feel like talking about every single stupid thing that they did. Tomas understood and hugged you tight.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” He whispered jokingly in your ear.

For once today you laughed. He always manages to bring a smile to your face. You wish you could let him but that would be a bad decision. Though it’s funny to think about. He was just happy to hear that wonderful laugh of yours. It just shows that he’s a good man to you. He can turn a frown upside down and make you see the good in men. Or at least the good in him.

After notes: Can you tell I got pissed off with Kuai Liang’s part? That shits a little too true. Those instacart tik toks be crazy. Here’s a little experience of when I hated men: one didn’t take no for an answer for YEARS. He still can’t take no even from other girls. But most of the men I know are good. Alright enough yip yap I must march on. Adiós!

[harrystylesfan2686]

Battle

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You and Rhys talk things out after he refuses to let you go into hybern war.

A/N: hehe First Rhysand fic. I love this. Also I'm so bad at writing titles you guys I swear. Please tell me a better title so I can change this one.

Masterlist

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"Are you kidding me?!" You yell the second you enter Rhysands tent, knowing full well the anybody outside can easily here but you don't care.

"You ordered Azriel not to send me out?" You were in the middle of a battle and apparently you High Lord had told his shadowsinger not to give his second in command any assignment.

It only fuled your anger when he answered without looking at you,"Yes I did."

"Do you realize how embarrassing that was for me?"

"Embarrassing?"

"Yes!"

"That's what you're thinking about? How embarrassing it was for you?" His displeasure clear in his voice.

"Yes! Everyone had positions, everyone had tasks and I was just standing there with nothing as my Spymaster told me to stay back because the High Lord ordered him so." The mock in you voice makes him look at you, finally leaving the papers.

"I didn't sent you because I don't want to endanger you. I don't want be on that battle field and worry about you every second. I don't want to be wondering if you are safe or laying there in the pile of bodies where I probably wouldn't be able to find you. So I apologise, if it embarrasses you to stay where you are safe but I wont-," His voice cracks. "I can't see you in danger."

Oh.

The realisation flared your eyes and you look down in an attempt of hiding you surprise.

The two of you had been kind of a pair before he got stuck under the mountain. You loved him, still do but never told him because how can a High Lord love a mere spy like yourself. The two of you were clearing interested in each other before you got the news that he is stuck with Amarantha.

You wanted to go after him, to save him but Azriel had strictly denied you to do so. And when he finally came back, after fifty years, you thought maybe he had moved on. There was no way he could still be interested in the same person after five decades, only you were stupid enough to do so.

So you didn't do anything about it, only keeping things strictly profession after he came back. Until now.

The two of you were silent for a few minutes before he sighed and said in a tone a lot calmer than before,"I'm sorry I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

He puts in hands one his face, resting his elbows on the desk table in front of him, refusing to look at you anymore. You don't know what to say, so you just say the first thing that comes into your mind.

"I thought you and Ferye were..." You trail off, wincing as he looks at you, his expression making you regret your words.

"No, no. We are just allies, that's all. Friends maybe but not anything more." He looks physically ill at the thought of them together and your lips curl upward a little. He then again looks down, can't seem to look at you for more than a minute.

You slowly walk upto him, standing beside him and turning him around by his shoulders to look at you. "Rhysand, I understand that you fear for me but I'm Azriel's second, I can look after myself. I mean being the Spymaster's second has to mean that I'm good at surviving, right?"

His violet eyes look for your reaction as he gently tugs you to him, when you dont push him away, he hugs you. You now stand between his legs, him sitting gives you a small advantage of hieght and he rests his forehead to your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, he sighs. "I just don't want to lose you."

His voice melts you, sounding so small and vulnerable, turning every thought in your head about him. Your hands lift to wrap around him too, one resting on his shoulders and the other gently running fingers through his silky hair.

"I'm going to be alright, Rhysand. You are too, we are going to need every help we can get in this war. And I can't just sit hear worrying about you all, while you go fight for your life out there. I'm a big girl, Rhys, I can handle myself."

He sighs and you know you've won this argument. He lifts his head to look at you with the most serious expression he can master and says,"Fine. But if something happens to you out there, I'm bringing you back, screaming and kicking, even on my shoulder if you don't listen. I'll even tie you to the bed if I have to."

"Promise?" You smirk.

His eyes narrow,"Yes and I'll fuck you senseless after as a punishment for not listening to me."

You laugh, silently agreeing because you're looking forward to doing that either way.

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[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Write a Clean(ish) Fast Draft

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Jesse Q. Sutanto is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

Dear Nano-ers,

My first book took me three years to cobble together. During that time, I joined Absolute Write—a free writers forum which I completely love and recommend to all aspiring writers—and I made a friend who convinced me to try doing NaNoWriMo. I was completely unconvinced, but I am a people-pleaser and I can never say no, so I agreed to try it for my second novel.

My second novel took me less than a month to write. It was a complete mess, but it was also a revelation. Often, I felt myself falling into that writing Holy Grail—the hole which consumes you, makes you forget the rest of the world, and absorbs you completely in the world you are creating on paper. I loved the process deeply, and never looked back since. All of my subsequent books have since been written in a matter of months. 

And you know what? They were all a horrific mess. I did not learn how to do a clean and fast draft until my NINTH book, and I don’t think I would’ve ever learnt without the help of NaNoWriMo. So here are my tips on how to best tackle a sprint-a-thon like NaNo. 

1. Try to come up with a loose outline.

When I first started writing, I was a pure pantser. I had no idea what was going to happen before I sat down to write. This is a completely legit way of writing, but I have since learned that it is massively helpful to have an idea, even a vague one, of what you are trying to say with your book. What was really helpful for me was to sit down for just five minutes before writing each scene and try to envision what I wanted the scene to achieve. Once I had that in mind, the scene became much easier to write. 

2. Break down your writing time.

Ever heard of the Pomodoro technique? In order to hit 50,000 words a month, you need to write around 1,600 words a day. That is a heck of a lot of words to write! Break it down. Set 10 or 15-minute timers and use that to your advantage. Trust me, if you told me to sit down and write 1,600 words, I would be like, “Omg that’s too much!” But if you told me to just write for 15 minutes, that feels a lot more doable. 

3. Give yourself permission to write trash.

Before each writing session, I actually say out loud: “I am going to write trash.” And this gives me permission to write whatever comes to my mind without judgment. You can always edit later, but for now, focus on letting the words out on paper. 

4. Lean on others for support.

I made the mistake of thinking that writing is a lonely vocation. In fact, it is one of the most social things I could do. Social media, while a double-edged sword, has done so much for the writing community. I have found all of my close writer friends through social media, and I chat with them every day and consider them my close, lifelong friends. Don’t be afraid to reach out and make connections within the community. You are not alone. 

Jesse Q. Sutanto is the award-winning, bestselling author of Dial A for Aunties, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Well, That Was Unexpected, The Obsession, and Theo Tan and the Fox Spirit. The film rights to her women’s fiction, Dial A for Aunties, was bought by Netflix in a competitive bidding war, and the TV rights to Vera Wong was bought by Warner Bros, with Oprah and Mindy Kaling attached to produce. She has a master’s degree in creative writing from Oxford University, though she hasn’t found a way of saying that without sounding obnoxious.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hey, I love your stories so much, Thank you for your beatiful work❤️ “Did you even miss me?” With Tommy as much angst you can write maybe ?

Hi there, anon! Thanks so much for sending this in! I hope you like what I’ve done here! I tried to do as much angst as I could. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Three Years

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of war

Word Count: 636

Summary: Tommy’s attempts to reconnect with (Y/N) don’t go as he hoped they would.

“(Y/N), wait!” Tommy called for (Y/N) as he hastily followed her out of the Marquis. She was still several steps ahead of him, the pouring rain not slowing her down one bit. “Stop fucking walking, please!”

“Why?!” she yelled back to him, slowing her pace down to see if he’d notice. Within seconds, she felt his hand on her shoulder before he spun her around to face him. “Why should I have to stop for you, huh?!” she asked, venom laced into her words as her angry eyes found his.

“I wanted to speak to you,” he answered her, keeping his voice level. He had no right to be angry.

“Speak to me? You finally want to do that?” her response was spoken in an incredulous manner. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but she continued before he was able to. “Why the fuck did you even come to this pub? It’s one of the few that I can go to; where I know I won’t see you. But now you’re here, and you’re in my fucking face, and you’ve ruined my night!” she went on with her rant, her voice raising with each word she spoke. She didn’t care that she was screaming in the middle of the street though. This was what he deserved.

“(Y/N), listen…”

“No,” she shook her head, cutting him off again, “no, I’m not going to listen to you, Tommy. You lost your chance to speak when you didn’t come to visit me for three-fucking-years. I wrote to you, I worried about you every single day when you were in France, and then the war ended and I got nothing.” She paused a moment, taking a deep breath in hopes to stop her lungs from burning. Her angry eyes found his again, and she stared into them for a moment before asking the question that was burning in her mind: “did you even miss me?”

Every planned answer that Tommy was stacking up in his mind vanished after hearing her final five words. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and instead he stood there like a fool, his brows scrunched together and jaw slack as he let everything she just said sink in.

“You know what, I don’t even want to hear your answer,” (Y/N) broke the silence, dismissing him before he even had the chance to think of a response. She turned and began walking away from him then, leaving the lighted vicinity of the pub so that she could return to her home.

Tommy stood there and watched her walk away. He was itching to rush to her side; to escort her home so that he could ensure nothing happened to her. But he knew that she didn’t need him to do that. He also knew that him doing so would probably make things worse than they already were.

To put it simply: she was right. Three years was too long of a time for someone to be gone for. Tommy had his reasons, sure, but those put aside, he still hurt her. He hurt the woman who’d been there for him right up to the day he boarded the train for France. He hurt the woman that his mind would drift to while he was stuck in the tunnels and trenches. He hurt the woman he thought he’d have by his side for the rest of his life.

And now he had to come to terms with the fact that she was gone forever. He shouldn’t have came to this pub; shouldn’t have asked around about her and then intentionally sought her out. If only he’d known better…then he wouldn’t have been caught out in the rain. If only he didn’t let three years pass by.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[thelovetheystole]

I wrote a little something, because I can't stand the current situation with Aaron. I don't usually share what I write, but here it goes.

Aaron's been pushing it aside, rather successfully, for months now. It's nothing in the grand scheme of things really, some shared dna markers and a last name. It doesn't affect him in their daily life together, at least it hasn't so far.

The first time it does affect him though, it hits him like a smack across the face. Actually, he would have much preferred a literal smack.

John's taken him out, wants to treat him, and Aaron's reluctantly agreed. It turns out it's that bloody Italian restaurant near the hospital in Hotten and suddenly he's having vivid war flashbacks of Dr. Alex. Aaron regrets the analogy off the bat, John is the one who's been to war and has both emotional and actual scars to prove it. Still, Aaron can't shake the images of the doctor with the perfect hair and how close he had come to cheating on him... with Robert.

The thing is, Robert can't be on his mind now, he just can't. Not that he ever can, but especially not now, when he's about to be wined and dined by John. Pull yourself together, he tells himself and attempts a faint smile when his boyfriend looks at him.

That's when the smack across the face blindsides him. He hears John say they have a reservation under 'Sugden' and it's like Aaron realises, for the first time, what it means. What he's actually been doing. He feels a bit sick, suddenly the collar of his shirt is too tight, and he can feel the colour is draining from his face. He doesn't hear John anymore, all he hears is a medley of "Mr. Sugden" and "Mr. Dingle" and "I love you, Mr. Sugden-Dingle first" and it's fucking heartbreaking.

'I have to go', he hears himself say in a voice he doesn't even recognise as his own. John just looks at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Aaron takes off but not before John tries to grab his arm to stop him. Aaron shakes himself free, and mutters 'sorry' under his breath. He's tearing up and he knows he's making a scene, but he runs for the door anyway. The cold December air that hits him makes it even harder to breathe for a second or two, but being outside still helps. Being on his own helps too.

Aaron starts walking, hands in his pockets, eyes already red from crying. He hasn't cried about Robert in a long time, he doesn't even know how to anymore. He's locked Robert away, ironically, in a place that's almost unreachable. He's done it with Jackson, Ben and Liv too, but not quite in the same way. It's okay to grieve them, people understand when he needs to do that. They're all gone - Robert is too but in another, more dangerous, way. The others can't come back, but Robert can.

Given what Aaron knows about Robert, he will come back, because where else would he go? To find Seb, sure, but then? He'll come home. It might not even be that long, Aaron realises. Five years have already passed. It feels like twenty.

He feels the guilt creep up when he dares to actually think about it. Robert coming back to the village where he was born, became a dad himself, got married. Only to find his ex-husband living with his new half brother. It doesn't matter how angry Aaron still is, or how hurt he was about being blanked and divorced. What he's been doing with John suddenly feels wrong in every way. How could he have let it go so far? Why hasn't the people around him questioned it more?

His brisk pace has taken him halfway home. He feels sick again when he sees the lay-by coming up in front of him. Where he was with John wasn't exactly here, but it was close enough. Aaron stops in his tracks and wipes his eyes. He sees it now, what he should have seen all along; the lay-by, the barn, the woods... He's been living in deja-vu mode without even noticing. Has he been projecting his feelings onto John? Or is something more sinister brewing beneath the surface?

Well, whatever it is, it stops now, Aaron decides. He takes a deep breath and as he starts walking again, his mind feels clearer than it's been in a long time.

[evolutionsvoid]

As all should know by now, I am pretty passionate when it comes to flora and fauna. As a researcher, I've devoted my life to learning everything I can and seeing every creature I can. I find it all so fascinating, and I can't help but fall in love with the natural world over and over again. I don't know how to put it into words, or properly explain why I care so much about it. Well, actually, I can put it into words, but someone won't let me properly explain it! "Too long," she says! "An intro shouldn't be longer than a novella," she says! But wasn't she the one who told me to write about my passion?! It's lunacy, I tell you! To tell me to pour my heart out and put into words the love and energy that keeps me going, keeps me living, but then limit it to a measly few pages! I won't have it! I won't tolerate it! I will give her a piece of my mind when I see her again! Apparently the last five times didn't get through her thick cap!....Now what was I writing again?

YES, nature! Wonderful animals and plants! What I was getting at was my love for such things, and all the weird shapes, sizes and types they come in! It is perfection! Wonder! Beauty! Every creature adapted in such specific ways! Given such incredible traits! They are living pieces of art! SO WHY DOES SOME NOXIOUS WEED OF A KNOTHEAD THINK THEY CAN DO BETTER?! Magic and its wretched alterations! Bah! Don't get me wrong, magic is a wonderful thing in itself, and it has certainly made everyone's lives easier! Well, at least if you aren't on the receiving end of a magic bolt. Or belong to a poor village that is going to be demolished to have a fancy academy put in instead... But nothing drives me crazier than people using magic to alter and mutate perfectly good species into something else! Okay, well maybe stupid naming conventions are worse. And, perhaps idiots who introduce invasive species on purpose. Okay, so, actually one of the things that drives me absolutely mad is magic alterations of plants and animals.

Now, of course, changing flora and fauna used in agriculture is perfectly reasonable. We were doing it well before magic got so big. The knot in my side is when people mutate species purely for spectacle or to make them living weapons! And with no thought or care for the creature itself! A tool to be used and thrown out! Disgusting! We dryads may use our affinity to these things to cause changes, but we do so respectfully and ensure that the species is not seen as a disposable trinket. The Eyahs are a good example of magic mutations that were done in the worst way possible. A simple primate warped into a crazed, bloodthirsty killer, but then abandoned the second the war was over! Vile! Hateful! A putrid violation of life! But of course I didn't bring this stuff up purely to get my sap pumping, as it is relevant to the species I wanted to write about. The bolt spider is an arachnid that faced a similar fate, used as an experiment in magic.

Originally, the bolt spider was a relatively simple species. About the size of a dinner plate, found in places that had plenty of trees or high up vantage points. Like many of their relatives, they spun webs in order to trap passing prey. The difference here, though, was that the bolt spider was capable of producing a glowing webbing that had some shocking properties! By that I mean it could be electrified by a pulse from the spider's special organs. This was how it quickly dispatched large prey that flew into their web! And the glow of their silk attracted food and drew them closer to their doom! Wonderful stuff! What a neat little species! However, some folk saw these spiders and thought they could do better...

According to the tales, the original intent was to make these spiders larger and produce more silk. This was because their beautiful glowing silk was a prized material, and used in a variety of fancy clothing, potions and other such things. The wild spider populations were taking a hit from over harvesting, as their silk fetched a fair sum. So the idea was to make a captive breed that could fulfill the market's wants more easily. However, at some point, things went foul. It would seem that the bolstering of this species size and abilities through magic caught the attention of some nasty folk. And when they began to meddle with things, a new direction was taken in this program. What resulted was the bolt spiders we know today, a species that is the disgust of many. This is because they are now associated with a magic group that is very unpopular with the public: necromancers.

It would seem that an interesting thing was found with the bolt spider's electrical capabilities. When bolstered to a greater size, there was more power to their jolts, more danger. A full burst unleashed upon a person could fry them outright, but that wasn't the interesting part. What really caught folk's attention was how the electricity affected the dead. When dead flesh was exposed to this energy, it would seemingly come to life! The electricity would make the muscles and limbs go crazy! And that was when the experiments took their turn. They would cease to be silk spinners for fancy tapestries, and instead become undead monstrosities.

The resulting bolt spider was much larger, more potent and very deadly. Its electrical capabilities have been greatly enhanced, and its aggression has been increased as well. These arachnids now rarely hunt by waiting in shocking webs, and instead attack prey straight on. Their legs end in sharp points, which can easily pierce skin. Through this, they can pump a lethal amount of volts into victims. And when one of these large spiders jumps on to you and fully snares you in its steel trap grip, it is all over. For you at least, because with this new corpse, the bolt spider has a new task to complete. Time to take its new toy home...

When presented with a dead body, the bolt spider will position itself on the deceased's back. It aims to align its own body with the spine, where it will clamp down. Its legs will then pierce specific points of the corpse, going for limbs, shoulders and thighs. Its fangs will unsheathe and pierce into the neck, while its odd pedipalps will embed themselves into the neck. Now fully latched on, it will release its energy and the corpse will come to life! Well, not really. What actually happens is that the spider uses its electricity to control the deceased, turning them into an undead puppet. This is how they bring their food back to their nest, or use this new bulky body to fend off foes and capture new prey. But it doesn't end there! Trained by necromancers and enhanced by their foul magic, the bolt spider wants more than a simple human body. As they gather more carcasses, they will use their serrated chelicerae to gnaw through limbs and break them down into pieces. Then, their silk will be utilized to sew the desirable chunks back together, into a horrible amalgamation of flesh and death. Copious webbing will be used to patch it together and hold it all into one piece. And when the bolt spider latches on and uses its energy, the whole thing will come to life, powered by its piercing limbs and electrified webbing. This is where the horror stories begin, with monstrous brutes of undead flesh and glowing "veins," striking foes down with electric web whips and unnatural strength.

Thankfully, the original species can still be found in some remote forests, but they are incredibly rare. These monstrous versions are all people know now, and it is so unfair! A brilliant creature now turned into some undead nightmare! The gall of it all! It causes fear and hate towards the species, even the unaltered ones! Now anytime anyone even thinks of an electric spider, they think of these horrible electric terrors that kill and consume, stitching victims onto their growing mass. Vile! Disgusting! Oh how I would love to tear apart the necromancers responsible for this with may bare hands! Of course, Eucella is very adamant that I don't do this, and that I swear I won't go picking fight with necromancers. Hmph! Tell me what to do! She's still worried about that troll poaching incident. I was fine, I had everything under control! Yeah, so what if they were armed? So was I, with the power of justice and righteousness! Those who kill innocent beasts for no reason will hear from me! I WILL STRIKE THEM DOWN, even if it is only with my fists! Just ask those two poachers I beat to a pulp before Eucella dragged me off them! I could have done worse! (And they could have too, Chlora! There were FIVE poachers there! With spears! I stopped you from getting skewered like a vegetarian kebab, you ignorant weed! And also if you come to my office to rant about the intro again I swear I am locking you in the closet and going home for a long weekend. - E.R.)

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

----------------------------

"Bolt Spider"

Uh, it is actually called Frankenstein's Spider, thank you very much! Gosh, people!

[writersnook11]

I'd Wait Forever

Life Day Exchange 2024

@lonewolflupe @cloneficgiftexchange

Word Count: 5.5k+

Warnings: 18+ but no smut, no use of Y/N, SFW, grief, mentions of death and lack of closure, denial, angst, mentions of corruption, mentions of Order 66, emotional reunion, fluff, kisses, holiday activities, mentions of a tiny square box with a very specific purpose

Summary: After Fives’ death, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. Your last conversation with Fives left you confused, scared, and reeling with its implications. You learn to live with your grief, and when the Republic is replaced by the Empire, you decide to leave Coruscant. You move to the place you and Fives had intended to live after the war, choosing to face head on what could have been. Months later, an unexpected visitor arrives.

Disclaimer: I should note I’m not 100% sure of the amount of time that passed between Fives’ death (canonically) and Order 66. In writing this I took a creative liberty in saying it was several months, please forgive me if that’s wrong. But also, this is fanfiction, so *shrug*, anything goes sometimes. I think a timeline issue in this case is a minor thing, but I at least wanted to be upfront about my doubt. I also don't know if the GAR troops were paid, but in this case they were, albeit extremely minimally.

Gift Note: Happy Holidays! Lupe, I hope you like it! I went a bit crazy with the angst but I hope the fluff makes it worth it. I read your About Me and stuck a nugget or two in there for you specifically. It's not perfect by any means, I'd edit this for months if I could. Also, I'm not sure if you use Spotify, but during the writing process I made a mood playlist/soundtrack and I'd be glad to share it with you if you're interested! Anyway happy reading, let me know what you think! <3

AI Notice: My consent to any and all use of my work in training AI is expressly withdrawn. Do not use my work in training artificial intelligence.

It had taken a matter of weeks for your world to turn upside down.

You longed for those hushed whispers of comfort, his rumbled assurance that he’d be back before you knew it. You desperately craved his arms around your waist again, holding you close and hanging on like you’d never let go, both of you warm and safe. 

Part of you didn’t believe it. How could you? He called you only hours beforehand, a rushed warning of something you couldn’t quite understand. 

Be ready to leave the second I get home, all those plans we made to move? We’re doing it now—

Fives wait—

Listen to me, okay? There’s something big happening, I can’t explain it all yet, I don’t have much time—

Fives you’re scaring me, what are you talking about? What’s happening?

Don’t be afraid, sweetheart, I’ll be home soon and we’ll get far away from here, just like we said we would.

Yeah, but that was after the war— is it over? Will it be over soon? Is that what you’re saying? 

No— I— I can’t tell you or I’d be putting you in danger.

What? You better tell me what the hell is going on, right now.

I can’t—

Fives!

A beat of silence. 

Dammit… Listen, you can’t repeat this to anyone, and I mean anyone, okay? Not Rex, not Fox, not Commander Tano, no one. Not until I give you the all clear. Got it? 

Okay, I hear you… 

The Kaminoans put something in every clone. Every clone. And it can control us. It’s an implant in our brains. Tup’s malfunctioned, that’s why—

Control you? What? Fives I’m confused—

This goes deeper than I ever thought possible. I don’t know what to— Kriff. I have to go—

Fives be safe! I can’t—

I love you baby, see you soon.

You were beyond confused and scared, but Fives was one of the best troopers in the GAR and you knew better than to doubt him. You trusted him more than anyone in the galaxy. You did as he told, if not to comfort yourself then him. 

You were waiting in the living room of your tiny Coruscant apartment, bags packed by the couch, when the Guard knocked on your door.

How could you believe them? 

This wasn’t in the plan. 

His funeral wasn’t like any you’d ever attended. It was lumped in with hundreds of his brothers fallen in combat, more like a memorial than anything. You went through the motions numbly, half-heartedly acting the part of a grief-stricken loved one because you still couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. Something in the way Fives had told you about behavioral implants, the war being fabricated; you didn’t trust many people anymore, even clones. It didn’t help that no one could meet your eye; not Rex, not Kix or any of the 501st. Maybe they felt responsible somehow. Survivor’s guilt, perhaps. You simply couldn’t believe Fives was dead. 

Weeks went by. Everyone looked at you with such sympathy. Rex even called to check in or visited when he was able, however rare that turned out to be. 

When months went by and there was still no word from Fives, you started to believe them. Maybe he was truly gone. He wouldn’t leave you this long without at least a word of comfort, even an acknowledgment or letter.

You returned to work, pouring yourself into it, saving money and filling your days as best you could while you hoped and waited to be wrong. Sometimes you’d pass by clones on shore leave, laughing and making merry. You’d see glimpses of him in his brothers, hear him in their voices. Those days you couldn’t help but wonder if any of them had known him, if they’d had a chance to hear him out. You often thought about his last days, especially the few hours after he comm’d you. Was he afraid? Angry? How deep did this go? You wanted to ask Rex, General Skywalker, anyone and everyone who was near him in his final days. Before you had the chance to speak to them again, everything Fives said to you in that call coalesced. 

The fall of the Jedi Temple, eliminated by Republic clones, and the emergence the Empire. Headlines that shook you to the core. 

You knew good and well the Jedi would never turn against the Republic, Fives had told you too much about them. You also knew just as well that the clones would never turn their backs on the Jedi without a second thought. No creature in the galaxy could meet a more loyal band of brothers. Behavioral implants suddenly made a frightening amount of sense. 

You didn’t like what this implied about the Republic, what it had been under the surface all along. When the Chancellor seemingly declared himself Emperor, you knew where the galaxy would head. You’d read too much about such governments. All too soon, free thoughts even as simple as questioning a new policy would be deemed threats to democracy, threats to the Empire. Any and all of which would be punished, if not eliminated entirely. 

You thought back to your final call with Fives, how he’d said telling you those things would put you in danger. If his last words to you ended up a warning without him ever knowing truly what would transpire, you wanted to make sure it wasn’t in vain. It had to be worth something, even if that only meant your escape from a corrupt regime. 

The night of Emperor Palpatine’s inaugural address would be your last spent on Coruscant. 

The instinct to run away was a powerful one, one you had never felt so tangibly. You spent the larger part of the night packing and repacking your bags, trying to dwindle your life down to the bare necessities for starting over. When you finally slept, you tossed and turned, waking in the morning feeling like you’d have been better off not sleeping at all. 

With one bag over your shoulders and one in hand, you turned to give that dingy, budget apartment a last once over. At first, you looked to make sure you didn’t miss anything you wanted to take. You’d never be coming back, after all. But then you were watching Fives sneak up on you while you were making dinner, food flinging to the ceiling as you shrieked. Then you were falling all over him, giggles and exclamations of surprise filling the room. You watched how his hands fit perfectly on your hips, sliding up your waist to your back to envelope you in a tight hug, your kisses peppering his face. Your lips fell on his, humming contentedly and standing there together in bliss. Then dinner started burning and you had to practically tear his arms off to get to the stove, a wide grin never leaving his face. 

A tear slid down your cheek, one you brushed away with the palm of your free hand. You couldn’t bear the thought of a whole life without him. 

You pushed that memory to the back of your mind, turning on your heel and locking the door behind you. At the front office you turned in your key, bidding farewell to the only office manager you actually didn’t mind. She asked if there was anything she could do, but you shook your head and assured her there were just too many memories in that apartment now. She gave you a knowing nod and you told her about the rest of your belongings, that she could sell or donate or throw away the rest. She asked if she should leave it as is for a while, in case you changed your mind. You shook your head again. 

You’d never be coming back, after all. 

Clouds of dust billowed as you dropped your bags in the doorway, making you cough. Carefully, you made your way through the foyer into the living room, then into the kitchen, stepping over rotted floorboards and soft spots. You assessed needed repairs as you went, cringing as the list grew. 

It was worse than when you and Fives bought it. Granted, there were already numerous issues when you put down an offer. That was the main reason you were able to get it so ridiculously cheap. It wasn’t like they paid clones well. Now you’d just spend an arm and a leg repairing everything, and hopefully get it finished before winter. 

You ran a hand across the window over the kitchen sink, barely brushing enough dirt away to see the barn clearly. You stepped back and made your way to the mudroom, walking out back to take a look at the yard. Fenced in (if you could call what remained a fence), the barn stood several hundred units behind the house. It was weathered and worn by time and lack of tending, standing nearly twice the size of the main house. Its hayloft was in desperate need of new supports and the whole thing in need of new siding. 

You sighed, turning on your heel to head back inside. Crossing through the mudroom again, you looked to the stairs leading to the second floor. Sheets of wallpaper, fallen from upstairs, laid across the steps. As you climbed the stairs, you leaned over and crumpled up what was in your way, having to tear some the rest of the way from the wall. 

The second level was not in much better shape than the first. Of the two small bedrooms and one large, only about ten units of wallspace still held wallpaper. The refresher needed serious TLC to the plumbing, the sink running brown for the first ten minutes of waterflow. When it finally ran clear, it only ran cold. 

You pinched your lips together and let out an exasperated sigh. After retrieving your bags from the front door, you marched upstairs and began getting settled as best you could. At least you brought one of Fives’ old bedrolls.

You spent your first few weeks getting the most pressing repairs in the house finished. Plumbing, replacement floorboards on the ground floor, and leaks in the roof patched up just in time for the rainy season. You got your hands on some budget furniture to fill the emptiness, met with neighbors though they were a mile away, and familiarized yourself with the village even further down the road. As much as you could, you kept your days busy. 

Nights, however, were always lonely. That’s when the longing settled back in. Missing him, his company and warmth, the life in his smile that filled your soul with purpose. Laying alone in the bed meant for you two was more draining than you expected. You thought getting away from Coruscant would be more of a fresh start than this. You’d hoped your grief wouldn’t follow you this closely. 

You often found yourself just… angry. 

Who was responsible for taking away millions of clones’ free will? Who was responsible for taking away the future you and Fives had dreamt up? What political scumbag took away your goodbye? 

You established a routine. Breakfast, wash up, chores. Stop into town if needed. Lunch. Work on the house and the land. Wash up again, start on dinner. Sit on the porch with your meal, watch the sun go down, and go to bed. 

It wasn’t elaborate or set in stone. You’d alter any of it when needed, but you knew you needed consistency. You wanted it, even. Anything to take your mind off Fives and the Empire. 

Month by month, your old house tucked in the woods became more of a home. It wasn’t so empty, dusty, or broken anymore. No more leaks, peeling walls, or rough spots in the floors. Good, kind neighbors pitched in to help where they could, mainly with the heaviest lifting. The Apande’s down the road helped put in—forget just supports—an entire new hayloft. With things shaping up, you were able to find peace in many things you hadn’t been able to living on Coruscant. 

Each morning you could listen to the world around you waking up. Birds would start singing just as sunlight struck the treetops. Light filtered in through thin, floating curtains, shadows of branches and leaves dancing across your wall. In the summer you’d sit on the porch steps, counting fireflies and listening to crickets. When autumn came you reaped your first harvest in the garden, albeit small, and felt immense pride in what your hard work produced. When the first snow of the season fell you couldn’t help but stare at it in awe. You must have sat on the porch for an hour, watching flakes twirl around each other, hot mug in hand. 

Each of those peaceful moments were supposed to be spent with Fives. You often imagined him sitting next to you, wondering what he’d say or do, if he’d try to catch fireflies and how many he’d beat you by. You wondered if he’d experienced snow before, if he’d have the same light in his eyes that you did when he first saw it fall. Over time it became less of a bitter ache for what could have been, and more of a sweet gratitude for his memory, for having the ability to imagine him there at all. In turning that broken down house into a home, you could grieve and start to come to terms with the future you’d never have. But as time approached your first Life Day without Fives, it was like the whole grieving process restarted. 

You never had the chance to celebrate together. He was always deployed. You never complained, he was where he was needed, but you were always a little downcast. You’d rather him be home with you than at risk of being shot by some Separatist droid.

You delayed decorating longer than you ever had. By the time you went to town to get a tree, nearly the entire lot had been sold. You thought about trekking into the woods surrounding your home to find one, but they were almost guaranteed to be too tall or wide to fit through either door. So, you brought home the best one you were able to scrounge up out of the last pickings. It was a bit scrawny, with thin spots here and there, but it was soft and sturdy and could—without a doubt—fit through your door. 

You cried when you finally got it settled in the living room. He would’ve loved the smell. He would’ve gotten sap all over himself, cursing how it stuck to everything and was so hard to wash off, but loved it all the same. He would’ve loved the crackling of wood in the fireplace, how different it was from the hustle and bustle of traffic on Coruscant or blaster-fire in the field. You could see him thundering into the mudroom, arms full of logs for the fire, stomping as much snow off his boots as he could. He’d look up at you, nose red from the cold, and smile that smile that made your face flush, heart flutter, and stomach do backflips. 

You’d gotten good at building fires. The house didn’t have an electric heating system. Pipes of water ran through the floors, warmed by the furnace in the kitchen. You’d often come back from trips to the village and find it completely cold. You considered yourself lucky; one of your neighbors taught you to split wood. Most of the time he provided it himself, on account of his darling wife (who swore up and down she’d teach you to bake the spiced apple pie her grandchildren loved). All you had to do was carry it to the house from the barn. Granted, it was a trek through almost knee-high snow to get it, but you’d rather that than freezing. 

You still hadn’t decorated your tree by Life Day’s Eve. You didn’t have the heart to, so the boxes sat in a corner. You avoided walking through the living room altogether. The very thought of the tree got shoved to the back of your mind, having almost intentionally forgotten the whole reason you bought it in the first place. You could heal your Life Day heart another year. 

Instead, you filled your time helping your sweetheart neighbors in preparing for their guests. She asked for your help the week before, assuring you it’d be then that she’d teach you to make that blessed pie. You stood in the kitchen with her from dawn to dusk, measuring and mixing and getting covered in flour. By sunset, a full day’s meals and feast awaited the next morning’s oven. 

She thanked you profusely for your time and help, insisting you join them for Life Day festivities. You assured her that you were grateful for the invitation, but didn’t want to intrude on her family gathering. She persisted again, citing her fear that you two made too much food, and you relented to join them for dinner. She smiled gleefully, ushering you out the door. 

The walk home wasn’t quite as lonely as you expected. Sure, your shoulders were weighed down a good bit that Fives wouldn’t be there, but you felt a little lighter. 

Snow crunched beneath your feet. You shivered in a particularly cold gust of wind, hugging your coat tighter on yourself to shield against it. The house is going to be freezing. 

As you made the turn onto your drive, you immediately headed for the barn to get more wood for the furnace. Approaching the pile, you huffed a few breaths on your hands to warm them and heaved several logs into your arms. You followed the path back to the house and into the mudroom, dropping your haul to the floor before shaking snow from your coat and boots. 

You leaned over to untie your boot laces when it struck you.

The house was warm. 

You wrinkled your brow in confusion. Had you put that much wood in the furnace before you left? Surely not, you were gone all day, it’d still be burnt out. It should’ve been cold. 

Footsteps sounded from the living room, shooting a cold lightning bolt of fear down your spine. You fought the urge to freeze, flattening yourself against the wall adjacent to the living room door. Heart pounding, you peeked around the frame. The light was on. When you saw no one, you darted into the kitchen, careful to keep your footfall light. 

You went straight for the furnace, grabbing the firewood poker from its rack. Your knuckles whitened, poker gripped tightly against you. 

You rounded the corner of the dining room, holding your makeshift weapon in front of you. Still you saw no one. You frowned, wondering if you’d been mistaken. 

You stepped through the foyer, hands shaking with adrenaline. No footsteps and no shadows. 

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to the living room. Still you saw no source of the footsteps you could’ve sworn you heard. 

A floorboard creaked behind you, sending your heart into your throat as you gasped and whipped around. 

Fives, wrapped in grungy blacks and holey socks, raised his hands in defense. 

The room spun and you faltered backward, your grip on the fire poker loosening as it clattered to the floor. You raised both hands to your head, gripping your own hair and trying to make sense of what you were seeing. 

He took a step toward you. “Hey,” he rasped. 

You held a hand out in a gesture to stop, falling to your knees. 

He stopped and stood his ground, fighting an overwhelming instinct to run to you and swaddle you in his arms. 

Countless tears slid down your cheeks, hands shaking for an entirely different reason this time. You pressed your palms into your eyes and rubbed them. Blinking hard, you looked back to him. “How? How are you here? Alive?” 

Fives took a tentative half-step toward you, kneeling down closer to your level. “It’s a long story,” he said softly. “I had to protect you from—” 

You launched yourself at him, knocking him to the floor as your arms swung around his middle. His arms were quick to wrap around you, hugging you close like he would soon wake up and you’d be long gone. 

Your body shook with sobs, forehead pressed into his chest and fists balling up in the back of his shirt. He held you, rubbing your back and planting gentle kisses atop your head, until your shaking stilled and breathing grew more even. 

Even after you calmed down, you stayed where you were, both of you relishing the familiarity of each other after so long. You tilted your head to look at him, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he was even alive. 

“I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so long. There’s so much to tell you,” Fives broke the silence quietly, meeting your gaze. 

You sighed, reaching up to hold his cheek in the palm of your hand. He leaned into your touch, cupping your hand in his. “You can start with how you’re alive,” you spoke, voice trembling. “I mourned you, Fives. I– I really thought I’d never see you again.” 

Fives brought his hand to your face, wiping away a fresh tear with his thumb. “I know, Rex kept me updated as best he could.” He averted his gaze, shifting into a thousand yard stare. 

A thousand more questions ran through your mind, but you said nothing, letting him find the words. 

After several beats passed, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I was trying to find anyone who would listen and believe me, but… well, that’s an even longer story. I was sure the Chancellor would listen, but I was wrong. He was part of it.” Fives paused again, a pained look passing across his face. “I got shot. And I was dead, for a bit, but Kix got me back. Rex thought it was best to keep it quiet, after everything.” 

Your breath hitched, fresh tears welling up. “Even from me?” 

Fives turned his head back to you, hand returning to your cheek. “I hated to, but it was the best option to protect you from the same people who wanted me dead. Anyone who knew what I knew was in danger.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Once I healed, I spent every waking moment making sure they wouldn’t come after you.”

Your lips trembled and you pressed your face back into his chest, another embrace swallowing you both. You flattened both hands to his back, breathing in his memory-laden smell. 

“After the Empire took over and things started settling down, I went back to the apartment,” Fives mumbled. “Shira never rented it back out, everything was how you left it.” 

You pulled away and sniffled. “Really?”

He nodded. “I guess she hoped you’d come back.” He shifted and reached behind him, fishing a folded slip of paper from his back pocket. “I wish I could thank her, I was able to grab this.” 

Fives held the paper out to you. You took it between two fingers and unfolded it, revealing a real, printed photo of you and the entire Domino squad, back when you and Fives had first gotten together. You had the holo-copy, but left the printed one behind for the sake of space and anonymity in your travels. 

You were rendered speechless, absently thumbing the edge of the photo. “I can’t… I can’t believe it.” 

Fives grinned. “Of all the things that happened today, the picture is what you can’t believe?” 

You chuckled and smacked his arm, a smile breaking across your face. 

Fives’ grin broadened.  

“Why come here now?” You asked, looking back up at him from the photo. “You said you went back when things started settling down. It’s been over 6 months, has it really been that chaotic?” 

Fives shook his head. “Things settled in pretty quickly, at least on Coruscant. Rex survived. I was able to meet with him, and we started helping our brothers that didn’t want to serve the Empire.” 

You hummed in response, turning back to the photo in your hands. He watched your eyes go from each member of the squad to the next, remembering them solemnly.

He whispered your name, drawing your attention back to him. Tears shone in his eyes. “I thought you left, really left.” His voice cracked, a drop sliding down his cheek. “I thought maybe you’d gone off to start a new life.” 

Your jaw fell slightly agape as you sat rooted to the spot, a bit astonished. You set the photo to the side and sat up, shuffling yourself to look him in the eyes.  “Fives, you are my life. If I had to spend the rest of my days alone, hoping and waiting for you to come back to me, I would.” It was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Your heart ached at the longsuffering now evident in his eyes. “It was always in the plan to live in this house together. I came here to escape the Empire and to try to heal, not move on from you altogether. I don’t think I could ever manage that.” 

Fives’ breath quivered. He cupped the nape of your neck in both hands, pulling you closer to rest his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you rested a palm on one of his hands. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, breath mingling with yours. Your noses brushed against each other, lips tingling at the closeness. Slowly, tenderly, as if he was afraid of hurting you, he inched his lips closer until they met with yours. 

You had kissed him hundreds of times, but none of them came close to the warmth and relief and comfort that settled in your bones with that kiss. You were quick to lose your breath, pulling away gasping for air yet longing for another. 

Fives hovered inches away, catching his breath as you did. His eyes drifted open, gaze soft and dazed. 

You brought a hand to his chin, running a finger over his lower lip. “I’ve missed kissing you,” you sighed. 

He chuckled and grasped your hand, massaging your palm with his thumb. “You have no idea.” 

You both froze as an unmistakable rumble erupted from Fives. You burst into a fit of laughter, a sheepish grin tugging at Fives’ mouth. 

“Hungry?” You laughed, standing to your feet and offering out your hands for him. 

“As a rancor,” He confirmed, taking your hands and standing without tugging them. 

You spent the following couple hours cooking a quick meal together, including the pie your neighbor taught you, which filled the house with the warm scent of cinnamon. You paused occasionally for a kiss or a brief cry. The amount of joy and relief surging through your mind, body, and soul sometimes became overwhelming. Fives was dead, yet, there he stood. In your house that could now truly become a home. Your bed would no longer be half empty. Your table would be one plate fuller. All this, and you could hardly believe it was true. 

“Why is it naked?” 

Fives’ question jarred you from your thoughts. You looked to him, standing in the living room staring at the Life Day Tree. 

“Oh.” You stood from the table and moved to stand next to him. “Well, it didn’t feel right decorating it without you here.” You answered plainly. 

He turned his gaze to meet yours. “But we’d never decorated one together before, why not this one?”

You looked at your feet, slightly embarrassed at the scrawny condition of the tree, though Fives didn't question that. “Because we were supposed to do everything here together. I fought through everything else, but this… I don’t know— it just didn’t feel right.”

Fives grabbed ahold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well I’m here now.” 

You smiled softly, giving his hand a return squeeze. “Yeah, you’re here now.” 

Fives turned in place, looking around the room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He released your hand and took a few paces. “Did you do all of it by yourself?”

You shook your head. “No, some neighbors helped, and a couple things were too far out of my scope so I hired help from in town.” You shuffled to the door frame, leaning against it. “It was a lot, but it was all I could do to keep from losing my mind.” 

Fives stopped and stood in place, looking at you with eyes so full of regret you wondered if he held an entire galaxy’s worth of guilt. 

You pushed yourself off the frame and crossed the room in large strides, wrapping your arms around him. “Don’t think like that,” you whispered, “You’re here now.” 

He sighed and draped his arms around you, accepting your reassurance. “How do you always know,” he relented. 

Fives jolted suddenly, interrupting the embrace to point at a box in the corner, something shiny glimmering between the edges of cardboard. “What’s that?”

You turned to look at what he was referring to and opened your mouth to answer, but Fives beat you to it, crossing the room and opening the lid. He looked back to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Can we?” 

You sighed and tried to bite back a smile, ultimately failing. “Fives, it’s late, can we do it in the morning?” 

“Come on,” he droned playfully, “What’s the use of having it dressed up for one day?” 

Crossing your arms in mock indecision, you brought a hand to tap a finger on your chin. “But if we leave it up for a month, it’s the same, isn’t it?” 

Fives picked up a bundle of lights, unspooling it. “No,” he deadpanned. 

You scoffed out a laugh, marching over to join him. 

The remainder of the evening was spent dolling up your dinky little Life Day tree. You taught Fives how to put lights on without leaving dark spots, how to attach hooks to ornaments and space them out, and how to top it. By the time it was finished, you were so exhausted from the day you were starting to see double. 

You and Fives plopped yourselves down on the sofa, cheap as it was, and leaned back to admire your handiwork. 

“Not bad, for a Life Day Tree shiny,” you smirked lazily. 

Fives gasped, looking at you as if offended. “You take that back!” 

You raised your hands weakly in defense. “I said not bad!” 

He grinned and threw an arm around the back of the sofa. You scooted over to lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

You both sat in silence for a while, a delicate kind of reverence settling over you. You both knew the magnitude of this Life Day in particular. You had each given each other a new meaning for the day. You, giving him a reason to fight on and live. And him, giving you a reason to celebrate life; the fact that he was still alive and with you, namely. 

Eventually, Fives opened his mouth to break the silence with a question, but froze when he glanced at you. You were passed clean out, mouth slightly ajar. Fives chuckled softly, enamored by the way the light of the tree danced across your skin. 

Carefully, he slid his arm behind your shoulders and the other below your knees. As he stood and scooped you in his arms, you stirred, mumbling that you could walk before promptly falling back asleep. 

Fives carried you through the living room, the mudroom, and upstairs to the bedroom, leaning to gently settle you on the bed. One by one, he unlaced and tugged your boots off, followed by your socks, then tucked you under the blankets. After placing a featherlight kiss to your head, he turned and headed back downstairs. 

Fives made sure the doors and windows were closed and locked, refilled the furnace, and made his way back to the foyer. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieved what he needed, and stepped back into the living room. 

He approached the Life Day Tree, pausing to absorb the beauty you added to his life, the joy you brought him in a single evening. After every separation you both endured during the war, then the worst separation of all, and you still loved him more than he felt worthy of. You were steadfast, funny, generous and kind, the most enchanting and incredible woman he’d ever met. And you chose him to love. Of all people in the galaxy, a soldier back from the dead.

More confident in his decision than ever, he crouched down and placed a small, square box under the tree. He leaned over to unplug the lights for the night and stepped back. 

Once back upstairs, he removed his hole-infested socks and climbed in bed next to you. He turned on his side, a quiet yet overwhelming contentment filling him as he refreshed his memory of every detail in your face. He itched to kiss you, to hold you close every hour of the night, but he dared not disturb your peace. 

Minutes ticked by and his eyes grew increasingly heavy. Fives fought sleep, afraid he might wake up and find the whole evening with you was a dream. Eventually he could fight it no longer, his eyes fluttering shut, falling into a more restful sleep than he’d had all year.

End Notes: Phew! That was a bit longer than I meant it to be! To be completely honest there was still a bit more I wanted to add, namely a few tidbits of Life Day itself, but I kinda love this ending and don't want to push it. I also ran out of steam lol. Not too shabby for my first Star Wars fic, I think. First fic since I was in high school, actually.

I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Life Day!

Dividers by @enchanthings and @strangergraphics

[officiallyossy-haywooddent]

August 29th.

This is a fanfic / open rp starter so it’s kinda long. The writing might not be great, sorry.

TW for child death, loss of a sibling, minor mentions of bad parenting, minor drug use, minor toxic relationship

Every year without fail the week of August 25 was maybe the worst week of Ossy’s life. Every year they’d go through the same calls, same arrangements, same people. It never changed, even if their life circumstances did. Every year they would end up with a crown of flowers and a box of Halloween candy, completely and utterly alone.

It had been the same when they were eight and had been flown home from camp to give their testimony to the police. It had been the same when they were twelve, reeling from the loss of their brother and best friend and so, so many others; lost and alone in the middle of New York.

It had gotten worse when Ossy was thirteen, their palm sliced open over a marble altar, clasped in the hand of their best friend somewhere in the wilderness of the Yukon. Being fifteen in Gotham would be no different.

—

August 25.

It began, the preparations; the prayers. They called Frank first. Ossy hadn’t talked to him in years when it had first happened, he’d left the island with his mother to live with his grandmother in Vancouver, and they’d drifted apart.

A three hours on the ferry was a long time to travel to see someone, it wasn’t like they’d been good friends. They’d been five and eight, quietly talking in the forest behind their school every couple of days. That was all, Ossy didn’t think they’d ever speak to him again.

Then came the second war. He was there; they weren’t. He stopped by the med bay, asked where they’d been. They answered. He’d talked with them for hours, but he would always have to leave.

Nevertheless Ossy picked up their phone, dialled his number. They let it ring, once, twice. They hung up. It wasn’t right to bother Frank nowadays, and he hadn’t really known her anyway. Most people hadn’t.

They ordered a bulk box of Halloween candy. It would arrive in two days. They wished it would never come.

—

August 26.

Ossy’d found a place that did rush flower arrangements. They ordered three flower crowns, one for them, two for her. The place they’d gotten it, Belle Flore, was this tiny shop in North Gotham that imported seeds from everywhere in the world and grew all the flowers in a grow room above the store. The clerk, a red-headed guy probably less than a year older than them named Rhys, had been nice about the whole thing, suggesting an arrangement of Pheasants Eye, Prince’s Feather, Baby’s Breath, and Buttercup.

The combination was odd but sweet, symbolic. Buttercup had been her favourite after all. The crowns would be done in three days, the 29th.

Ossy would pick it up in the morning, flowers were always better fresh.

They spend the rest of the day asleep. The tranqs they’d gotten from Peter were nice, though they’d had to ration them out. They’d told him 2 wasn’t gonna be enough.

-

August 27.

Ossy sleeps through the day. They don’t move, but it’s fine. They don’t need to. Sleep is quiet, calming. Hypnos must have taken pity of them, each dream is an altered memory of their life before everything, a kinder one.

-

August 28.

The phone rings five times before going to voicemail, their mums soft voice letting them know to leave a message and that she’d get to it in the morning. She wouldn’t, not when she saw the caller ID.

“Hey, mum. It’s me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’m..I’m doing something for the 29th. You can always join me, I’ll pay for your flight and everything.”

Ossy pauses, taking a shuddering breath. It’s been a while since they’ve cried properly.

“…I miss you. And Grandpa. I’m sorry..about everything.”

They hang up quickly, regretting every second of it. She’d just delete it when she saw it, she always did. They leave the message anyway.

The package with the candy arrives at the manor, nobody asks what’s in it. Ossy doesn’t know if anyone even noticed it arrive. They request the day off tomorrow from the Deli, Mr. Maroni approves it. He’s been nice since he found out about the mugging, probably thinks they’re still scared of doing the night shift. They are, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

The night roles around and they pop the second half of a tranq. They don’t know if they want to wake up in the morning, sleeping away the 29th doesn’t sound half bad. It would be mean though, she would never have done it. She didn’t sleep, it was genetic. The gene had skipped Ossy.

-

August 29.

At 5:30 AM they show up at Belle Flores, it’s the same clerk, Rhys. He quietly hands over a pastel blue box with a subdued smile. He knows what the crowns are for, they’d told him. It’s easier to talk to strangers about these things.

Ossy stops back at the manor, grabbing the cats before hopping on one of the busses. They need to get out of the city again. Sometimes Gotham, with its constant noise and soaring buildings, felt like a maze. This then made them the rat, trying to find its way out before getting zapped.

The concrete held an energy they could never quite get used too. Ossy missed the blue pine of the salmon and rain forests; trees so large and thick they muffled everything within their shade, where oceans crashed against the conifered cliffs of their piece of home. They’d stolen that line from John Vailant.

The bus pulled to a stop outside a rocky beach. The cats had been quiet for the ride, good travellers. Ossy realized she’d never gotten to meet them.

They set up camp on a fallen log near the tree line, setting up a fence so the cats could be let loose to roam. Two of the flower crowns were laid side by side, the third resting on their head. It was good work, better than either of them had ever been capable of.

Ossy sat there for a while, listening to old songs they had long forgotten the words to, taking two bowls and pouring them full of the candy. It was stale, but that didn’t really matter. Stel had always saved her Halloween candy until Easter. They ate quietly, watching the cats play fight.

Ossy wasn’t sure how long it took for them to break down but they’d like to think it was close to an hour, a respectable amount of time to hold vigil before they imploded.

It was stupid for them to think they’d escaped it, moved past it. Not her death, no, they could never get over that, but being alone each year.

Not even having a picture of the family together. It was starting to get to them. Ossy would never admit it but they were starting to forget her face. People had always said they’d looked similar. They could never believe it. Stel had been good, so much better than any of the rest of them. Ossy would never be sure how she came from a family like theirs. Truth be told, they weren’t even sure what they looked like anymore, but that had little to do with the comparisons.

Ossy pulled out their phone, dialling half the numbers in their phone before deleting each one. They didn’t want to feel the need to explain it all to anyone. Deanna had told them to stop over analyzing their emotions, it wasn’t actually a form of processing apparently.

Finally, they landed on someone they wouldn’t mind calling. The gnawing sensation in their gut growing ever stronger as the phone rang, the soft click of the receiver letting them know there wasn’t really a way back.

“Hey.”

[cassiefromhell]

Bats and Fire 04

"The Calendar Situation"

Last time on bats and fire... 01 02 03

a/n: it turns out that i have bad writing motivation and love bouncing between projects, lol (also you can blame late updates on my current bg3 phase and jjk hyperfixation). so expect BAF 1-2x monthly. once again, i am very open to suggestions/themes for future chapters/episodes, so leave them in comments or my inbox!! and my requests are always open <3 enjoy!

warnings: smut, mdni/18+. p in v, oral (f receiving) morning sex, character watches while y/n is eaten out, interruptions, slight overstimulation, etc...

wc: 3.4k

Things were thoroughly out of hand.

Your mates were incapable of not fighting over every single second of your free time. And that turned into tug of war games where you get the lovely privilege of being the rope, and you know what you also weren’t getting? 

Sex.

You had not had sex in two weeks.

But you have five mates? How’s that possible?

Because you are almost never left alone with any of them long enough to get someone’s shirt off, nevermind a hand in your pants.

And a girl will get fed up after a while.

But luckily, on your first expedition after your cycle ended, you found the perfect solution…

You stumble into the old shop, wiping your dirtied hands off on your pants. The scent of magic immediately hits your nose, and you bite your tongue to distract yourself from it.

“You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” the female behind the counter says, her sunken gray eyes tracing over your tattered clothing.

You clear your throat, approaching the counter. “Do you carry any blade polish, or leather cleaner?”

She pauses, then opens and closes her mouth. “Say… are you the hunter that our mayor is paying to clear our woods of those damned Puca?”

“How could you tell?”

“I had a feeling.”

The female hobbles her way around the counter, and leads you to the left. She opens a cabinet door, and pulls out two glass containers, one with a clear liquid and the other a slight brown. She hands them both to you. “Your polish and cleanser.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to head back to the counter. But something shimmers in the corner of your eye, and you pause, turning to face it.

It’s a pile of calendars, the edges glimmering with the sparkle of spells. But who would need a magical calendar? 

“Eyeing the Mrythat Calendar?” the shopkeeper asks, coming up beside you. “No one ever buys ‘em.”

“What do they do?” you ask, reaching out to take one and examine it.

“You buy a few, sign ‘em with blood, and then they’re connected to you. Write something on one, it appears on all the others. Useless, if you ask me, but a merchant came through ‘ere with an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she explains, then starts back towards the counter.

You take six of the magical calendars, tucking them under your arm.

“You’re sure ‘bout that, hon?” the female raises a brow at you. “Don’t know what you’d use ‘em for.”

“You don’t even know,” you grin, dropping the calendars on the counter. “You don’t even know.”

The next time you were at each of your mates’ residences, you spread the calendars. Of course, you happened to be with Azriel and Cassian in the House of Wind next, so you got to work...

The sound of the hammer nailing the calendar into the wall echoes down the hall. You step back, satisfied, admiring the shimmering calendar mounted over the soft blue paint.

Cassian rounds the corner, slacks hanging low on his waist, rubbing his eyes. “Love… what’cha doing at four a.m…?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you beam up him, gesturing to the glorious calendar — the solution to all of your problems. “Too excited. Look at it!”

“That’s… that's nice, love,” Cassian mutters, walking up behind you and putting his hands on your waist. “But let’s go back to bed, hmm?”

“No, no,” you gesture to the calendar once more. “I’ve gotta explain to you both how this works— hey— Azriel! Azriel, are you up?”

In response, a shadow comes to your side, winding around your leg.

You frown. “Did your master send you?”

The shadow tightens its grip.

“Is he just avoiding getting up?”

Even tighter.

You huff, poking Cassian’s shoulder. “Go get Azzie. This is important. And now I know he’s awake.”

The Illyrian nods and trudges off, cursing under his breath and running a hand over his face.

You almost feel a little bad, but then you’re distracted by your calendar again.

You did research on how these work. They were invented specifically for managing one person’s schedule, like a boss giving them to his employees to find time for meetings with them. Whoever’s schedule was being managed, just had to mark the calendar with a bloody fingerprint, and then all the calendars they marked would sync up. 

You grin, sticking your thumb into your mouth and piercing the skin, then you press it to the back of one of the pages. Instantly, the calendar glows, and then stops, but when you flip it to the current month, you find that it’s been filled in with all of your missions and plans — the magic has even sorted out what days you’re in which court, with which mates.

You grin maniacally.

Shadows slide around the corner, and out come your two Illyrian mates, bleary-eyed and wings damn near dragging.

You grin and clap your hands, pointing at the calendar. “Lookit! Look at what I did!”

“What did you do?” Azriel asks, coming to stand at your side and placing a hand on your lower back. It’s obvious that he’s trying his hardest to sound interested.

“Cass, c’mere,” you grin, tugging him to your other side. “Okay, okay, so, how this works. I have six of these calendars. They’re all enchanted, and they’ll soon all be connected to me by blood. When someone marks one, the others get the same marking, and I simply have to think it in order to add something. Each of my mates will get one, and so my schedule can be fairly organized.”

Cassian nods slowly. “Okay… but I thought normal scheduling was working fine.”

You bark a laugh. “No, no, no. You all are rather fond of interrupting each other’s dates and alone time, claiming to have ‘forgotten’ that I was already scheduled. This fixes that.”

“I do not,” Azriel grumbles, wings twitching.

“Well, see, the main inspiration here was my sex life,” you explain, perfectly calm as both your mates’ eyebrows shoot up. “I haven’t had actual sex in a week and a half, did you both know that?”

Cassian narrows his eyes. “No, no— how is that possible?”

You point to last Friday on the calendar, when you were marked to be on a date with Rhys. “Look, here; at this time, I was on the riverbank of the Sidra, about to be fucked against a tree, until Cassian came in and stayed for the rest of the date— and was completely oblivious to the mood and the arousal drenching the air.” You point to two days ago, when you were supposed to be sleeping at Eris’s palace. “At eleven p.m. that night, I was fully prepared to be ravished and yet Lucien needed me for something. And that’s not an issue, right, because two is better than one! But no, Eris and Lucien refuse to be naked in the same room at the same time.”

“…I see why you want the calendar,” Azriel murmurs, walking away and coming back with a pen and approaching the calendar. 

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We’re the first ones to have this, right?” Azriel looks at you, and you nod in confirmation. “We have all the empty slots. I’m filling them all in with me.”

Cassian blanches, and then steps forward, promptly shoving Azriel to the side and stealing the pen. “Give me that! You can’t take all the slots!”

“You were just too slow,” Azriel grumbles, gesturing to the calendar, which is now half-filled with dates… all with Azriel.

You snort, and then turn on your heel, heading back down the hall. “I’m going back to bed. Whose bed am I getting in?”

“Mine,” they both say at the same time, and you can feel the glare they give each other. 

You grin, and turn the corner, knowing one — or both — of them is bound to come running after you.

All goes well with your visit to Rhysand, and he was very happy with his new calendar. However, things get a little bumpy when you’re at the Autumn Court…

“Fuck—” you whimper, gripping Lucien’s hair as his tongue works at your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you steadily. You’ve already come twice, and he’s damn close to working you up to a third.

The bliss is nearly lighting you on fire, legs shaking as you finally approach that cliff again, climbing higher and higher and—

“Cum for me,” Lucien murmurs against your clit, the vibrations nearly tipping you over the edge. He looks up at you with those eyes from between your legs, and you whimper as you reach that—

A knock comes on the door.

Lucien pauses, and you whimper, desperately bucking your hips into his hand and lips.

“Shit, what time is it?” he asks, sitting up and looking at the clock, mouth glistening with your slick. 

“Lucien,” you grit out, “please.”

“Times up,” a familiar voice calls from behind the door. “Your slot is only from seven to eight, I have her for the full night from eight p.m. to sunrise.”

You hiss in frustration, gently tugging at Lucien’s hair. “Ignore him.”

Eris slips into the bond immediately. Ignore me?

Eris, give me five minutes. Please.

That’s not what the calendar says.

Does it sound like I give a shit about what the calendar says? You growl down the bond, frustration only building.

Lucien has obediently gone back to working your cunt, sliding two fingers back in. His mouth latches around your clit immediately, and the wondrous sensations start to build up again.

Two minutes later, Eris is speaking down the bond again.

I’d have already gotten you off by now.

Your only reply is an audible whine, surely loud enough for Eris to hear on the other side of the door.

And clearly he does hear it, because he’s winnowed to your side within seconds.

“Add a finger, it’ll make her come faster,” Eris idly comments, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “And harder. That’s important.”

You’re now completely naked and vulnerable in a room with two fully clothed males. Because apparently you’re the only one getting their clothes taken off today.

“What are you—”

“Shush,” Eris hushes you with a gentle kiss, stroking a hand down the center of your torso, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of your belly. “Let us take care of you.”

Before you can reply, his head dips down to your left nipple, licking a circle around it. His thumb runs circles around your other breast, all while Lucien increases his pace.

With very little warning, your climax creeps up on you, pleasure suddenly spiking. You cry out, gripping Eris’s shoulder for support as you tip over the edge, stars and flames filling your vision as the waves of your orgasm crash over you again and again and again and—

“What does that make?” Eris asks, stroking your hair.

“Three,” replies Lucien, who is gently rubbing circles over your clit, coaxing you through the last waves of pleasure with gentle kisses along your thighs.

The High Lord clicks his tongue. “That won’t do. She needs at least five, else apparently she’ll get needy at an ungodly hour.”

You try to protest. “Will not—”

He stops you with a quirked brow. “Two weeks ago. You woke me up before sunrise by humping me. Like a puppy in heat.”

You open your mouth, and then close it. He’s right. You did do that. But he looked so damn sexy like that, features relaxed and mouth parted and—

Lucien licks a stripe up your folds, and all your thoughts screech to a halt.

“Love,” Rhysand whispers in your ear, pressing kisses over your cheek and hair. “Love, time to get up.”

You blink awake, squinting in the early morning light. “Mm... what time is it?”

“Seven,” he murmurs, slipping his hands up and under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — and rubbing your skin.

You groan. “Cass isn’t picking me up ‘till seven-thirty. Why’d you wake me?”

“Because I was thinking we could squeeze a little something in,” Rhys kisses your neck, pressing his hips to yours, letting you feel his bulge beneath his pants. “If you so please.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you bite your lip. You run your hand down his chest, finding his bulge and palming him through his pants. “Needy, are we?”

“Please,” he groans, rutting against your hand once, twice, then pressing more kisses across your collarbones.

You smirk and nod, spreading your legs for him. His reaction is instant, making quick work of your panties and discarding his pants. 

He presses a finger into your entrance slowly, hissing as it comes back soaked. “Fuck. So wet for me, love.”

You tilt your hips up for him, and he strokes himself twice, then slowly slides in, stretching you wide. You whimper, gripping his shoulders and chewing your lip to stay quiet. “Fuck…”

Rhys picks up a slow pace, gentle and loving as the kisses he’s pressing along your collar and neck. He rubs your hips in time with his thrusts, each time hitting just a little deeper, each push a little more pleasurable than the last.

“Please,” you moan, desperate for more, deeper, harder, faster… and he doesn’t give it to you.

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, shaking his head. “Impatient little thing. It’s bright and early, and you want to have the shit fucked out of you?”

You nod, and he merely chuckles. The sound is low and deep and effectively makes you even wetter around him. 

He pulls out, and you open your mouth to whine, but he sweeps you up into his arms, picking you up out of the bed. Before you know it, your bare back is against a wall, and he’s entered you once more, this angle deeper than before.

He picks up a bruising pace immediately, and you moan, capturing his lips in yours to swallow both of your noises. You can’t help but tilt your hips with each thrust, desperately matching his pace as that coil in your abdomen begins to grow tauter.

“Fuck— fuckfuckfuckk—” you hiss against his mouth, clutching at his biceps, his neck, his shoulders — anything to ground you as you’re pulled higher and higher.

“I’ve got you, love,” he groans, slamming into you harder, brushing that spot so deep inside of you—

You come immediately, clenching around him and squeezing your eyes shut, moaning loudly as the pleasure drags you down, down, nearly into unconsciousness as your thighs cramp. Rhys has to hold you up to keep you from falling out of his arms, and he follows you with three sharp thrusts and a low growl, spilling into you.

He kisses you, gently, and you run your hands through his hair, rolling your hips against his once. 

“God, I love you,” you murmur, between gasps for air.

“I love you too, darling. I love waking up to you next to me,” he murmurs back, nosing your neck. “I love fucking you first thing in the morning.”

“Round two?” You run a hand down his abdomen, licking your lips. You can’t help it; you want to taste him.

He grins deviously, opening his mouth to reply — but then footsteps sound down the hall, accompanied with what is obviously Cassian whistling. He’s definitely giving you a warning that he’s coming — he could be quieter than that.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “Just a sec.”

Cassian, you speak down the bond. Not done here. Give me half an hour. 

What? No. He whines, but his footsteps halt. I’m scheduled to pick you up at seven thirty. It’s my time.

I’m aware. The schedule isn’t supposed to be exact. You guys seem to have an issue with that.

…Isn’t exact reserved time the point of the schedule?

You sigh, shaking your head. “Change of plans. I’m calling a mates’ meeting.”

Half an hour later, all of your mates are gathered at Rhys’s dining table, their calendars sitting in front of them. You sit at the head of the table, decidedly unhappy…

“Alright,” Azriel starts, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ll break the ice. What’s got you upset, love?”

“What do you think has me upset?” you grit out, glaring over at him.

Azriel suppresses a flinch, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m assuming it has to do with the calendar?” Eris says, gesturing to the calendars in front of them all. 

“Uh huh. And why, exactly, did I enact the calendar rule?”

There’s a short pause, and then Lucien responds. “To organize your schedule?”

“Because you wanted more sex,” Cassian corrects him, rubbing his chin. Lucien, Eris, and Rhys whip their heads to look at him, having not been there for that conversation. “But hasn’t that succeeded?”

“More sex, yes. But short sex. Painfully short. You know why? Because I start having sex with one of you. We do the deed. I want more. You want more. Then what happens? Knock knock, someone else comes along and refuses to give up precious time from their slot.”

Cassian looks down and away, making a face. Eris doesn’t look pleased either.

“You guys,” you sigh. “The calendar is flexible. You can deal with having half an hour taken off of your slots. It’s supposed to be a guide, not a strict schedule.”

The males before you begrudgingly grumble in agreement, and you gesture to the calendars. 

“Okay, thank you. Now that that’s understood, it’s time to schedule next month’s times. Please open your calendars,” you instruct, opening your own. Everybody follows your lead, so you continue. “I’ve marked in all the slots available, and when I’ll be gone. I have two missions next month; a dragon study and a job for the Winter court clearing out a pair of Banshees. The dragon study I have to do alone, but one of you can tag along on the clearing.”

Azriel immediately reaches for a pen, but not before Eris has already winnowed one into his hand, already writing his name.

“Ah!” you hiss, grabbing Eris’s wrist. “We’re drawing sticks.” 

Eris snarls at you on pure instinct, then his face goes slack. “Sorry, sorry— I didn’t mean to—”

Immediately, your four other mates are up out of their seats, teeth bared and ready to attack Eris.

“Dear mother,” you groan. “It was instinct. Everybody down.”

Everyone sits. 

“That’s the other thing,” you sigh, waving your hand to winnow in a cup with five sticks in it, all marked with a name. “You all need to work on the hostility. I know it’s difficult. But mistakes will be made, fights will be had, and instinct is instinct.”

Lucien mumbles a ‘sorry’ to Eris, and the rest follow, some less apologetic than others.

You carry on with the meeting, and you draw sticks, deciding the order of who gets to pick first. Cassian, much to his joy, gets first, then Azriel, then Lucien, followed by Rhysand, and in dead last — which you’d bet money was influenced by someone’s magic — is a very salty Eris.

Nevertheless, the dates are set, and you dismiss everyone—

“Hold on,” Azriel cuts in, holding up a finger. “There was a prearranged date with Rhys on here. Why only him?”

“Because he’s set to meet my parents,” the words fly out of your mouth before you realize what you’re saying, and you immediately clamp your jaw shut.

Damn your mouth.

All five heads turn to look at you, shocked faces adorning all but one — Rhys, who knew about this and didn’t question it.

“Why only him?” Eris asks, raising a brow. 

“I want to meet your parents!” Cassian pouts, leaning forward against the table.

“I do as well,” Lucien adds, scratching the back of his neck.

“Agreed,” Azriel finishes. “I’m free that time. We could just all meet them at once.”

Agreement runs through the circle, leaving you opening and closing your mouth.

Because there’s one issue.

One little, tiny issue…

“Cauldron boil me,” Eris murmurs, slowly leaning back in his seat. “They don’t know you have more than one mate, do they?”

Ah, yes.

That.

To be continued…

tags: @awoa1 @llovelydove @bookishbroadwaybish @maddietheshoe @eerievixen @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @cleverzonkwombatsludge @hyemishii @caro-lightwood-blog @the-sweet-psycho @myheartfollower @bubybubsters @luvmoo @foreverrandomwritings @ummmmmchillanywaysso @spongehappy @fell-in-luvs

comment to be added to the tag list!

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[loving-the-cambridges]

The Snow globe

This is my story for the Life Day exchange 2024 for @alegendoftomorrow.

Prompts:  “The lights are beautiful.”-  “Yeah they are.” Neither of them are looking at the lights. || “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?” -  “Positive…. maybe….. probably.”

A/N: Thanks again to @cloneficgiftexchange for making this possible. They were some fun prompts to work with. I apologise for the day's delay, I had been going at it, it's pretty long as you'll see and work had been crazy, I wanted it to be perfect. I just hope that you'll love every second it as much as I had fun writing it. It's a bit different, but that's fine in these sorts of things. I'd love to know your thoughts on it.

there are no warnings needed for this story, maybe just for it's length.

On A03

word length: 14 323

The hum of the ship’s engines filled the cabin, steady and rhythmic, as the stars of hyperspace streaked across the viewport. The ship was alive with the sound of voices, playful banter bouncing off the metal walls. It had been a long time since they’d all been together like this—no battles, no orders, no looming war. Just brothers, traveling through space toward a promise of peace and something new.

Jesse stretched out on a crate in the corner, helmet balanced on his knee. “I’m just saying, if this thing falls apart mid-flight, I’m blaming Tech. He’s the one who’s supposed to know every single bolt and wire in this tin can.”

Tech didn’t even glance back from the co-pilot’s chair. “The Havoc Marauder is structurally sound and fully functional. Any mechanical failure would be statistically improbable.”

“Right, and ‘statistically improbable’ means nothing when you’re spiraling toward a planet,” Jesse shot back with a smirk, leaning his head against the wall. “Fives, back me up.”

“Depends,” Fives replied from across the cabin, leaning lazily against the bulkhead. “Do I get to be the one piloting when it happens? Because I bet I could land this thing better than Cody.”

Cody turned his head from the pilot’s chair, arching a brow. “You’d be lucky to hit the planet at all, Fives. Remember the time you drove a speeder into a tree? Or should I say, through a tree?”

That earned a round of laughs. Even Echo, who usually kept his comments to himself during these exchanges, let a smile slip. Fives raised his hands in mock surrender. “That tree came out of nowhere! Besides, we’ve all made mistakes.”

“Not mistakes like that,” Echo said under his breath, his grin widening when Fives pointed an accusing finger at him.

“It’s not my fault that tree had something against me,” Fives huffed, crossing his arms. “Anyway, what’s this planet called again? Idelmor?”

“It’s supposed to be some kind of winter paradise,” Jesse said, tipping his helmet off his knee and spinning it idly. “Snow-covered hills, cozy villages, all that storybook stuff.”

“Storybook?” Crosshair’s voice came from the shadows where he lounged, his toothpick twitching lazily between his fingers. “Sounds boring. Unless there’s a good fight waiting.”

“No fights,” Cody said firmly, turning back to the controls. “That’s the point. We’re supposed to relax for once.”

“Relax?” Wrecker’s booming voice came from the back of the ship as he stood, cracking his neck with an audible pop. “I’ll show you relaxing. You just point me in the direction of this ‘Christmas roast’ they’re supposed to have, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Crosshair muttered, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “Food.”

“Damn right,” Wrecker said with a grin. “If this ‘Christmas’ thing involves feasting, count me in.”

“Christmas,” Tech interjected from the front, pushing up his goggles, “is an ancient tradition originating from Core Earth. It involves gift-giving, communal meals, and decorative customs designed to foster goodwill.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodwill,” Jesse cut in, rolling his eyes. “What about snowball fights? I heard they’re big on that here.”

“Snowball fights?” Kix, who had been quietly cleaning his medkit, raised an eyebrow. “You mean pelting each other with frozen water?”

“Exactly,” Jesse said, sitting up straighter, his grin widening. “It’s like a battle simulation, but fun.”

“Only you would think throwing snow at people is a battle simulation,” Kix replied, shaking his head. “You’d probably twist your ankle trying to dodge a snowball.”

“Twist my ankle? I’d be unstoppable!” Jesse said, puffing out his chest. “Mark my words, I’m going to bury you all in snow.”

“You’ll be too busy running from Wrecker,” Echo muttered, earning a chuckle from the others.

“You’ve got that right!” Wrecker bellowed, punching the air. “I’m gonna flatten you all.”

“Not if you trip over your own feet,” Crosshair said, smirking. “Again.”

The cabin filled with laughter, the kind of unguarded sound that only came from moments like these. Rex, leaning against the bulkhead near the cockpit, watched it all with a faint smile. His arms were crossed, his stance relaxed, but there was a quiet weight to his expression. It felt good, being here with them like this. It reminded him of the barracks, back when the galaxy wasn’t such a heavy place to carry.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, glancing over his shoulder at Rex. “You alright?”

Rex shrugged, his smile lingering as he looked out at the glowing blue of hyperspace. “Yeah. Just… good to see them like this. Feels normal.”

Cody nodded, a rare softness in his tone. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Rex didn’t reply, but his eyes lingered on the group—the way Fives leaned into every word, the way Kix shook his head at their antics, the way Wrecker’s laugh echoed like thunder. They were all still here. That was enough, for now.

The ship shuddered slightly as it began its descent, Tech adjusting the controls with practiced ease. “Approaching Idelmor,” he announced. “Optimal landing conditions. Minimal atmospheric interference.”

“Minimal interference?” Wrecker grinned. “Sounds like a smooth landing for once.”

“Try not to break anything before we even touch down,” Crosshair said.

“Try not to break the planet with your bad attitude,” Wrecker shot back, folding his arms.

As the ship pierced through the atmosphere, the viewport filled with a dazzling view of Idelmor: rolling hills blanketed in snow, evergreen trees that glistened like crystals, and a cluster of warm lights marking the small village below. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint glow of lanterns illuminated the streets, casting a golden hue against the soft blue of twilight.

For a moment, the cabin fell silent as the sight sunk in.

“Well,” Fives said, breaking the quiet, “if that doesn’t look like the perfect vacation, I don’t know what does.”

“Let’s hope their food’s as good as their scenery,” Wrecker added, his excitement evident as he grabbed his gear.

Rex remained still, his eyes fixed on the village below. The glow of the lights reflected in his gaze, stirring something faint but steady in his chest—something that felt, just for a moment, like hope.

*** 

The ramp of the Havoc Marauder hissed open, spilling cold air into the ship’s warm cabin. Rex was the first to step out, his boots crunching against the packed snow at the base of the ramp. His breath misted in the frigid air as he glanced around, his senses keenly aware of the sudden stillness that came with setting foot on a new planet.

The village of Elycara lay a short walk ahead, nestled into the base of a hill that rolled up toward a dense forest of evergreen trees. Lights flickered warmly from the windows of stone and timber cottages, their rooftops heavy with snow. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the faint scent of pine and something sweeter—spiced, comforting. Lanterns hung along the main path leading into the village, casting a soft glow over the white ground.

The galaxy, for all its vastness, had rarely offered Rex a sight like this: untouched, quiet, alive without chaos.

Behind him, the others stepped out into the cold. Jesse whistled low, his breath visible in the sharp air. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, eyes scanning the scene before them. “I didn’t think places like this actually existed.”

“They do,” Cody said, descending the ramp with practiced precision, his boots crunching into the snow. His gaze swept over the village, assessing as he always did, but there was no tension in his expression. “Rare, but they do.”

“It’s picturesque,” Tech said from behind, his tone clinically observant. He adjusted his goggles, the lenses catching the lantern light. “Precisely the sort of settlement one would expect to find associated with a holiday tradition. Communal, centered around warmth and shared experiences—quite fascinating, really.”

“Fascinating is one word for it,” Fives muttered, brushing his gloves together as he stepped off the ramp. “Another is freezing.”

“You’ve survived harsher than this,” Echo replied, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. His voice was soft, but his tone held the familiar, dry humor that always came out when he felt at ease. “Don’t act like a cadet.”

Fives grinned, nudging him with an elbow. “A cadet would’ve taken one look at this snow and gone back inside. I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

The sound of snow crunching behind them was punctuated by Wrecker’s booming laugh. “Standing for now, maybe. You’re gonna fall on your face as soon as you hit that icy patch over there.” He pointed toward the trail leading into the village, where the snow gleamed slick in the lantern light.

“Careful, or I’ll push you into it first,” Fives shot back, though the smile on his face softened the threat.

Crosshair, lagging at the back of the group, clicked his tongue as he adjusted his coat. “You’ll both fall if you keep flapping your mouths instead of watching where you’re walking.”

Rex couldn’t help but smile at the exchange, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. The banter felt… normal. Like the old days. Before everything had been taken from them.

His attention turned toward the village again, and as they began walking down the trail, his thoughts quieted. The snow underfoot was firm but not slippery, and the cold was sharp enough to sting his nose. He glanced around, catching the expressions of his brothers as they took in their surroundings.

Kix was walking with his head slightly tilted, his sharp eyes scanning the buildings for any sign of their local medical center—always assessing, always ready. Jesse walked beside him, hands stuffed into his gloves, his gaze drawn to the glowing windows of the cottages, where faint shadows of movement hinted at the lives inside.

Wrecker, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stay still as they walked. His grin was broad, and every few paces, he pointed something out—a particularly tall evergreen, a child’s sled abandoned near the edge of the road, a flickering lantern swaying slightly in the breeze. “Look at that!” he said, nudging Crosshair, who merely rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding.

Rex’s gaze settled on Cody, walking slightly ahead. His old commander’s posture was straight as ever, but there was something different in his expression. His eyes, usually so calculating, lingered on the village’s distant square, where a towering tree glittered with golden lights. Cody didn’t speak, but there was a faint crease in his brow that Rex recognized—thoughtful, maybe even wistful.

“You ever think we’d end up somewhere like this?” Rex asked, his voice low enough for only Cody to hear.

Cody glanced at him, his breath puffing in the cold. “No,” he admitted after a pause. “Not once.”

Rex nodded, his attention shifting back to the village. They were close enough now to hear the sounds of laughter and faint music drifting through the air. A group of villagers passed them on the road, carrying baskets filled with brightly wrapped parcels. One of the villagers—a boy no older than seven—stared at them wide-eyed, his gaze sweeping over their gear and their faces with unabashed curiosity.

“Evening,” Cody said, offering a nod. The boy’s mother smiled at them before gently steering her son onward.

“They’re not afraid of us,” Echo observed, his tone quiet but tinged with something hard to name—relief, maybe. “Not even wary.”

Rex knew what he meant. For years, their presence on a planet had been accompanied by war. They were symbols of conflict, instruments of strategy. But here, walking into a village lit with lanterns and filled with laughter, they weren’t soldiers. They were just… visitors.

The thought stuck with Rex as they entered the square. The towering tree at its center was breathtaking, its branches weighed down with ornaments of every size and shape. Garlands of greenery looped between the buildings, and wooden stalls lined the edges of the square, their shelves stacked with trinkets, steaming mugs, and warm pastries.

“It smells amazing,” Wrecker said, sniffing the air like a man starved. “What is that?”

“Likely cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves… possibly mulled wine,” Tech answered, his tone as clinical as ever. “All traditional holiday spices.”

“Traditional or not, I’m finding out where it’s coming from,” Wrecker declared, already scanning the stalls for the source.

Rex let him go, his attention drawn to a nearby shop at the edge of the square. Its windows were fogged from the warmth inside, and the faint glow of golden light spilled through the cracks of the wooden door. Something about it pulled at him, though he couldn’t say why.

Cody noticed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Rex said, though his voice was distant. “I’ll catch up with you.”

Cody gave him a long look before nodding. The others moved on, drawn by the liveliness of the market, but Rex stayed behind. He stood there for a moment longer, watching the shop as if waiting for it to reveal something to him. Then, shaking his head, he stepped forward, pushing the door open with a creak, followed by the soft chime of a bell overhead. 

Warmth wrapped around him instantly, a stark contrast to the biting chill outside. The air smelled of aged wood, faintly sweet spices, and something softer—vanilla, maybe. It was the kind of scent that invited you to linger, to breathe it in like a memory you didn’t want to let go of.

The door eased shut behind him, cutting off the distant laughter and chatter of the village square. In its place was the quiet murmur of a crackling fireplace tucked somewhere in the back. Rex took a step forward, his boots sinking into a worn but colorful rug, and he paused to take in his surroundings.

The shop was small but overflowing with character, every inch of it thoughtfully curated. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books whose spines ranged from leather-bound tomes to tattered paperbacks. Trinkets and antiques rested on tables and in glass cases, everything from ornate clocks to delicate porcelain figurines. A cozy nook in the corner drew his eye, where a plush couch sat beneath a window frosted with snow, a small stack of books and a steaming mug resting on a low table beside it.

It was the kind of place you could lose yourself in. Not by accident, but because you wanted to. Rex found himself lingering near the threshold, his hand still resting on the door as though afraid to step any further, like his presence might break the spell of the room.

“Welcome,” came a voice from behind the counter, soft but clear.

Rex turned, and for a moment, he forgot to speak. The woman standing there—(Y/n), as he’d learn later—was leaning over a small box of ornaments, brushing her hands free of some glittering powder. She had a warm but easy expression, her lips curled into a natural smile that somehow felt like an invitation rather than politeness. Loose strands of chestnut-brown hair fell from her braid, framing a face lit with curiosity. Her eyes, a bright, striking blue, flicked up to meet his, and she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“Not many visitors come in and stop right there,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “You’re either deeply unimpressed or deeply overwhelmed. Which one is it?”

Rex blinked, his hand dropping from the door as he realized he’d been standing there too long. “Neither,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, glancing around the shop. “It’s just… not what I expected.”

Her smile softened, and she gestured loosely to the shelves around them. “Most people say that. My father always liked to say this place doesn’t really feel like a shop. He wanted it to feel like… I don’t know, an escape.”

Rex nodded, stepping further inside. “It works.”

(Y/n)’s smile lingered as she watched him. He moved with a quiet presence, his posture straight but not rigid, his gloved hands brushing lightly over the edges of a nearby shelf. He wasn’t just looking at the items on display—he was absorbing the space, taking in every detail as though it might vanish if he didn’t. She recognized something in that—a carefulness that spoke of someone who wasn’t used to letting his guard down.

“Take your time,” she said, her voice gentle, before turning her attention back to the box on the counter. She lifted an ornament from it—a delicate glass star—and began tying a silver ribbon through the loop.

Rex’s eyes followed her hands briefly before he turned his attention back to the shelves. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—or if he was even looking for anything at all. But the atmosphere here, warm and alive in its quiet way, seemed to settle something in his chest he hadn’t realized was restless.

As he moved toward the center of the shop, his gaze caught on a table near the window. At its center was a snow globe, simple but beautifully crafted. Inside, a miniature version of the village square shimmered beneath a swirl of fine, silvery flakes. He hesitated before reaching for it, his fingers brushing the cool glass as he turned it gently in his hands.

“You’re drawn to that one, huh?” (Y/n)’s voice came from just behind him, light and curious. He hadn’t heard her move, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her standing a few steps away, the same easy smile on her face. “It’s a favorite around here.”

Rex looked back at the snow globe, watching the flakes settle. “It’s… detailed,” he said, unsure of what else to say. His voice softened. “It looks just like the square.”

“It should,” (Y/n) said, stepping closer. Her tone was quieter now, almost reverent. “My father made it. He was a woodworker and a craftsman. The base is carved from the trees up near the north ridge. He used to say every snow globe needed to feel like it carried a whole world inside it.”

Rex’s thumb brushed the edge of the wooden base, smooth but etched with subtle patterns. “It does feel like that.”

(Y/n) studied him for a moment, her gaze flicking to the way he held the snow globe—not casually, but carefully, like it was something precious. “There’s a story about that one,” she said. “They say if you hold it and think of someone, it’ll show you their heart’s greatest wish.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a skeptical smile. “Magic?”

“Maybe,” (Y/n) said with a shrug, her expression unreadable. “Or maybe it’s just a good excuse for people to imagine something they want to see.”

He held the snow globe a moment longer, the words hanging in the air between them. Then, setting it gently back on the table, he met her gaze again. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Her smile tilted, playful but soft. “I think there’s a little truth in every story. Don’t you?”

Rex didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced around the shop again, letting his gaze sweep over the books, the trinkets, the little pieces of other lives that filled the room. Finally, he said, “Maybe. Depends on the story.”

(Y/n) chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound the faint crackle of the fireplace in the back. But something about the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a pause in the middle of a song—natural, even necessary.

Rex cleared his throat and stepped back toward the shelves. “Your father—he must’ve been proud of this place.”

(Y/n)’s smile faltered slightly, though she recovered quickly. “He was,” she said softly. “He built it to be a place where people could find… something they didn’t know they were looking for.”

Rex glanced at her, her words settling over him like the warmth of the shop itself. “Maybe he was onto something.”

Lingering by the shelves as (Y/n) moved back to the counter, where she resumed sorting through the ornaments with slow, deliberate movements. The silence between them wasn’t heavy, but it carried the quiet weight of curiosity. Rex’s eyes drifted again to the snow globe resting on the small table near the window. Something about it stayed with him—maybe it was the delicate craftsmanship or the way (Y/n) had described it, as though it held a world in its fragile casing. Too whimsical for someone like him, he thought, but it tugged at him all the same.

(Y/n) caught herself glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she worked, drawn to the quiet intensity he carried. His movements were measured, his posture always alert, like someone who never fully let down his guard. Yet beneath that, she sensed a weariness that went beyond the physical—a heaviness that had settled into his bones and stayed. She’d seen it before in others, but not quite like this.

“You’re not from here,” she said finally, her voice breaking the stillness with the lightness of an observation.

“No,” Rex replied, turning to face her slightly. “Just passing through.”

“With your friends?” (Y/n) asked, motioning vaguely toward the door with the ornament still in her hand.

Rex nodded. “Yeah. We travel together when we can.”

“Close group, then.”

“You could say that,” Rex said. His voice grew quieter as he hesitated, as though weighing whether to say more. Finally, he added, “We’ve been through a lot together.”

(Y/n) looked up, her gaze locking onto him. She noticed the way his jaw tightened just slightly, the way his hands flexed at his sides, as though memories were threatening to push past the barriers he kept so tightly in place. She recognized that look—it was the same one she’d seen in the eyes of the few villagers who had returned from the galaxy’s war. The ones who had left to help but had come back quieter, changed, heavier.

“We heard about the war,” she said softly, setting the ornament down. She kept her tone gentle, careful. “Even out here.”

Rex’s expression sharpened slightly, but not with hostility. It was reflexive—the instinct to assess and protect kicking in the moment someone mentioned the war. He studied her face, looking for the subtle cues people gave away when they talked about soldiers like him. Judgment, pity, fear… but he didn’t see any of those. Just quiet understanding.

“You didn’t see much of it,” he said after a pause.

(Y/n) shook her head, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms loosely. “No. Idelmor’s quiet. Tucked far enough away that it felt like we were watching the war from the other side of a viewport. We heard the stories, though. And a few of our people felt the call to help.”

Rex tilted his head slightly. “The call?”

“To fight,” (Y/n) explained, her voice dropping just slightly. “Or to heal, to build. To do whatever they could. Most of them didn’t come back.”

The words sat heavily in the space between them, though (Y/n) didn’t avert her gaze. She saw the flicker of emotion in Rex’s eyes—sorrow, perhaps, or something heavier. Guilt. It was brief but unmistakable, and it told her everything she needed to know. 

“That happened in a lot of places,” Rex said finally, his voice quieter now.

(Y/n) nodded, her expression softening. She wanted to ask more, to learn the pieces of his story he wasn’t saying, but she knew that prying wouldn’t work. Some stories were only told when someone was ready. So instead, she stepped away from the counter, leaning her hip against the edge and letting the silence settle for a moment.

“I knew you were clones when you walked in,” she said gently, her voice measured, like she was testing the weight of her words.

Rex stiffened, though not entirely with surprise. He had wondered if the people here would recognize them, even in the absence of their armor.

“I see it in the way you move,” (Y/n) continued, watching his reaction carefully. “Not just you—all of you. There’s a purpose to it. A weight. But… that’s not all I see.”

Rex met her eyes, unsure what to say. He’d been stared at before, studied like an oddity or a relic of a war no one wanted to remember. He braced himself for the usual follow-up: the questions, the curiosity, the polite pity.

But (Y/n) smiled faintly and shrugged. “I see people,” she said simply. “That’s what matters to me.”

For a moment, Rex said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t believe her or because he didn’t know how to process the quiet sincerity in her tone. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing back at the snow globe. “Most people don’t see it that way.”

“Maybe most people aren’t looking close enough,” (Y/n) said, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t strike me as just a soldier. Not anymore.”

Her words landed in the quiet, not harsh or heavy, but matter-of-fact. Rex felt them settle in his chest, not entirely comfortable but not unwelcome either.

“You and your friends—are you staying in the village?” she asked after a moment, her tone lightening.

“Not yet,” Rex admitted. “We only just arrived.”

“Well,” (Y/n) said, a small smile curling at her lips, “I might have something for you. There’s a holiday cottage near the market square. It’s small, but it’s warm, and it has enough room for a group. A family used to run it, but they moved away a few years ago. I keep it up for travelers who come through.”

Rex raised a brow. “You keep a whole cottage just in case someone passes by?”

(Y/n) shrugged, her smile growing. “It’s a small village. We don’t get many strangers, but the ones we do usually leave something behind—stories, mostly. The kind worth keeping.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like you’ve made this place more than just a shop.”

“It’s what my father wanted,” (Y/n) replied, her voice softening. “I just try to keep it alive.”

He nodded, glancing toward the door as if he could still hear the voices of his brothers outside. “I’ll talk to them. It might be nice to stay somewhere that isn’t a starship for once.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” (Y/n) said, her tone as warm as the firelight flickering in the corner. “I can show you where it is if you’d like.”

Rex hesitated before nodding. “Thanks.”

As they stepped outside, the cold stung at his face again, but it didn’t feel as biting as before. (Y/n) gestured toward a narrow path leading off the square, explaining the location as they walked. Rex caught glimpses of his brothers in the distance—Fives and Jesse laughing near a food stall, Wrecker towering over a group of villagers, Kix examining a trinket in a shop window.

For the first time in what felt like years, they weren’t soldiers. They were just… people. Rex let the thought settle in his mind as (Y/n)’s voice carried softly beside him. Maybe that was the real gift this place had to offer.

*** 

The crackling of the fire filled the cozy sitting room of the holiday cottage, the warm glow casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. The boys had settled in quickly, their laughter and voices filling the space like it had always belonged to them. Jesse was sprawled on one of the couches, gesturing animatedly as he shared some tale from their earlier exploration of the village. Wrecker had already claimed the chair nearest the fire, his massive frame dwarfed by the oversized blanket he’d pulled over his shoulders, grinning as he polished off yet another helping of the pastries they’d brought back.

“Tell me that wasn’t the best pie you’ve ever had,” Wrecker declared, pointing at Echo, who sat at the table, carefully flipping through an old book he’d found on one of the shelves.

Echo didn’t look up. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Wrecker’s voice boomed. “That wasn’t just pie, Echo. That was a masterpiece.”

Fives, lounging in a chair near the window, smirked. “You call anything with sugar a masterpiece.”

“Because it is!” Wrecker shot back, though his grin was broad. “And if you don’t agree, I’ll eat yours too.”

Cody leaned against the doorframe leading into the kitchen, his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with the faintest tilt of amusement on his lips. “At least we’re not eating rations,” he said dryly, and a chorus of groans filled the room.

“You had to remind us,” Jesse muttered. “Don’t ruin a good thing, Cody.”

Rex sat apart from the others, perched on a chair near the window with his arms resting on his knees, his eyes distant. Outside, the village square was illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns and the towering tree in the center, its golden lights shimmering like a dream against the snow. The sounds of faint laughter and holiday cheer drifted in through the glass, mingling with the warmth of the fire inside.

It was… peaceful. And yet, that peace felt foreign, like a new pair of boots that hadn’t quite been broken in yet.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, his voice low but not unkind as he stepped closer to Rex. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, studying his brother with careful eyes. “That’s not like you.”

Rex shook his head faintly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “It’s nothing. Just… taking it all in.”

Cody hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. He straightened, nodding toward the table. “You’re the only one who hasn’t picked something out of the basket. Go grab a pastry before Wrecker eats them all.”

Rex huffed a laugh, though his heart wasn’t entirely in it. “I’m good. I think I’ll step out for a bit.”

Cody raised a brow but said nothing, only watching as Rex rose to his feet and grabbed his coat. The cold air greeted him as he stepped outside, biting at his face and ears, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It cleared his head, sharpened his focus. He pulled his gloves tighter and started toward the shop at the edge of the square, the light spilling through its windows as inviting as it had been the first time.

*** 

The bell chimed softly as Rex stepped inside, and the warmth of the shop wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. (Y/n) looked up from where she stood behind the counter, her hands busy with another box of ornaments. Her face brightened when she saw him.

“Rex,” she greeted, her smile easy and genuine. “Back so soon?”

He stepped forward, glancing around the shop. It was quieter now, the evening hours leaving it almost empty, but the fire in the corner still crackled, and the cozy atmosphere hadn’t waned. “I wanted to thank you again,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “The cottage—it’s perfect. The others are… well, they’re making themselves at home.”

(Y/n) laughed softly, setting down the ornament she’d been tying a ribbon through. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since anyone stayed there. It’s nice to know it’s being used.”

Rex nodded, his gaze drifting again to the snow globe on the table near the window. The swirling flakes inside caught the light just so, almost hypnotic in their simplicity. He hesitated, his hands slipping into his pockets, and (Y/n) noticed.

“Still curious about it?” she asked, her tone light.

Rex looked at her, then back at the globe. “It’s… interesting. The way you talked about it before, like it holds some kind of magic.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, stepping out from behind the counter. “It doesn’t have to be magic to mean something,” she said softly. “Sometimes it’s enough that it makes us think.”

She stopped beside the table, resting her hand lightly on the edge of the globe. “If you want to try it, you should. No pressure,” she added quickly, her blue eyes meeting his. “But if there’s someone you’re thinking about…”

Rex hesitated again, the weight of her gaze steady but not prying. He stepped forward, his movements deliberate, and reached out for the globe. It was cool in his hands, smooth and solid, and as he tilted it slightly, the flakes inside swirled to life, spinning in slow, mesmerizing patterns.

He thought of Cody.

The vision was instant, clear as though he were standing in it himself. Cody was here, in Idelmor, not as a visitor but as a cornerstone of the community. Rex saw him in the village square, surrounded by a group of clones—brothers Rex recognized and some he didn’t. They were laughing, their expressions open and free, and the villagers mingled among them as if there had never been a war, as if there were no distinction between them.

Cody stood taller than Rex had seen him in years, his posture steady, his face calm but content. He was a leader here, but not of a battlefield—of a home. There was no armor, no orders to give, just a sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from him. It wasn’t just Cody who belonged here, Rex realized. It was all of them.

The vision faded, the flakes settling back into place, and Rex was left staring at the globe, his chest tight.

“Rex?” (Y/n)’s voice broke through gently, pulling him back. He looked up to find her watching him, her brow furrowed with concern. “What did you see?”

He swallowed, setting the globe back on the table carefully. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “A future,” he said simply. “One I didn’t think we’d ever have.”

(Y/n)’s expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “And now?”

Rex looked at her, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t know how to explain the ache in his chest—the mix of hope and uncertainty, the weight of what could be and the fear of reaching for it.

“Now,” he said finally, his voice steadier, “I think it’s worth trying to make it real.”

***** 

The fire crackled in the hearth of the cottage, casting warm light over the room as Rex leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed and his thoughts distant. The others were spread out in their usual relaxed chaos—Fives and Jesse were playing cards at the dining table, their banter loud enough to drown out most of the quiet outside. Wrecker had sprawled across the couch, snoring softly, a half-empty mug of spiced cider resting precariously on the armrest beside him. Tech and Echo sat together near the window, both pouring over something on a datapad, their low murmurs blending into the background.

Cody stood by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle as he stared into the flames. His face was as stoic as ever, but Rex knew him well enough to see the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly. It was the posture of a man who had spent too much time thinking about things he hadn’t said.

Rex cleared his throat. “Cody, can I talk to you?”

The subtle shift in Cody’s expression was immediate—curiosity, edged with caution. He nodded once, motioning toward the kitchen. The two of them moved away from the others, their boots scuffing softly against the wooden floor.

“What’s on your mind?” Cody asked, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed.

Rex hesitated, the words tangling in his mind before they could take shape. He hadn’t told anyone about what he’d seen in the snow globe—Cody, standing tall and sure in a place like this, surrounded by brothers who had once been lost. It wasn’t just an idle vision; it had felt real, like a glimpse of a future they hadn’t dared to believe was possible.

“I’ve been thinking about this place,” Rex said finally, his voice low. “About what it could mean for us.”

“For us?” Cody raised a brow, his tone calm but curious. “You mean just us, or…?”

“I mean all of us,” Rex said, gesturing faintly toward the main room. “The others. The brothers we’ve lost touch with. The ones who never found a place to land after the war. This planet… it’s quiet, Cody. Safe. It could be a home.”

Cody’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re talking about bringing more clones here.”

“Yeah,” Rex said, his voice firm but not pushy. “We’ve spent the last year scattered, trying to find ways to survive in a galaxy that doesn’t know what to do with us anymore. But here… here we could build something. Together.”

Cody let out a slow breath, his shoulders stiffening as he mulled over the words. “You’ve been here for one day, Rex. You think that’s enough to know if this place can handle more of us?”

“It’s not about the time,” Rex said, stepping closer. His voice softened, though it carried a note of urgency. “It’s about what I see here. The villagers—they’re good people. They’ve welcomed us. And this isn’t like Coruscant or some Outer Rim scrap heap. There’s room here, Cody. Room for them and for us.”

Cody met his gaze, his amber eyes sharp but conflicted. “You don’t know how they’ll feel if we bring more. A few clones, sure. But an entire community? You know how people are, Rex. We’re soldiers to them—symbols of a war they’re trying to forget.”

Rex frowned, understanding the weight of Cody’s hesitation but unwilling to let it stop him. “I’ve seen the way they look at us. They don’t see soldiers, Cody. They see people. And maybe, if we give them the chance, they’ll welcome more of us.”

Cody stared at him for a long moment, his thoughts clear in the tension of his brow. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his arms uncrossing as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not just about them,” he said quietly. “It’s about the brothers, too. What if they don’t want this? What if they’ve given up on the idea of a home?”

“Then we invite the ones who do,” Rex replied, his voice steady. “And we let them decide for themselves.”

Cody was silent, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire in the other room. Finally, he nodded, though it was reluctant. “Fine. We’ll send out a call. But if this backfires…”

“It won’t,” Rex said firmly, though he could feel the weight of Cody’s doubts. “You’ll see.”

*** 

It didn’t take long for the call to go out. Fives and Jesse worked with Tech and Echo to send encrypted messages to every channel they could find—old comms networks, secured frequencies they hadn’t touched since the war. The message was simple but powerful: There’s a place for you. Come if you’re looking for a home.

The days that followed were filled with quiet anticipation, each of them trying not to let their hopes rise too high. But then the first ship arrived.

And then another.

And another.

**** 

The first to step off the landing platform were the brothers they hadn’t seen in months—men who had drifted after the war, some tired, some wary, all of them carrying the weight of survival on their shoulders. Rex and Cody were there to greet them, their presence enough to ease the tension in those first hesitant moments.

Then, unexpectedly, a familiar figure emerged from one of the ships, her orange montrals unmistakable in the winter sun. Ahsoka smiled softly as she approached, her eyes filled with quiet relief. “Rex,” she said, her voice warm as she embraced him. “I thought I’d find you here.”

Rex blinked, surprised but pleased. “What are you doing here?”

“Word travels fast,” she said with a slight smirk, gesturing to the other figures descending from the ship. “I wasn’t the only one who heard. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon thought it might be time to visit, too.”

Rex turned, his chest tightening at the sight of Obi-Wan, his robe wrapped tightly around him as he walked toward them, his expression calm but warm. Plo Koon followed, his steady presence grounding in a way that reminded Rex of the days when the Jedi had been their allies, their commanders, their friends.

**** 

At first, the villagers were cautious, watching the growing influx of clones and Jedi with quiet curiosity. But as the days passed, that curiosity turned into something warmer. The villagers approached, offering food, supplies, even homes that had been empty for years. They asked questions—not about the war, but about the brothers themselves, their lives, their stories.

(Y/n) played no small part in this. Her shop became a hub of activity, her easy warmth drawing people in, bridging gaps that might have otherwise grown between the clones and the villagers. She met every new arrival with a calm smile and a welcoming word, and Rex found himself watching her often, struck by the quiet strength in her presence.

****

As more brothers arrived, the village began to shift, growing into something new. The clones settled in quickly, taking on roles within the community—builders, farmers, teachers. Cody, though reluctant at first, became a natural leader, his steady hand and calm demeanor earning the trust of both the brothers and the villagers.

Rex stood at the edge of the square one evening, watching the glow of lanterns and the laughter of brothers and villagers mingling together. (Y/n) appeared at his side, her arms crossed loosely as she smiled at the scene.

“You did it,” she said quietly.

“We did it,” Rex corrected, his voice soft.

(Y/n) looked up at him, her smile lingering. “So… what’s next?”

Rex didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the warm, growing light of the village. “We build,” he said finally. “And we make it last.”

**** 

The first thaw of spring came like a whisper, soft and slow. Snow that had blanketed the hills melted into quiet streams, feeding the rivers that snaked their way through Idelmor. The village square, once muffled and still under layers of white, began to buzz with life. Stalls returned, their counters piled with goods that hinted at the promise of the new season. Children darted through the streets, splashing in puddles with joyful abandon, while villagers emerged from their homes with smiles and hopeful energy.

In the midst of it all, Rex stood with Kix and Fives in the square. (Y/n) was nearby, chatting with a vendor as she purchased a bundle of fresh herbs. Rex’s attention wasn’t on the square or even on (Y/n), though he glanced her way more than he cared to admit. His focus was on Kix and Fives, both of whom had begun speaking at once, their ideas spilling out in a chaotic flurry.

“I’m telling you, Rex,” Kix said, his voice animated, his arms crossed over his chest. “The barn on the north ridge is perfect. It’s big enough for everything I need. We just need a way to get supplies and medical equipment.”

“And don’t forget the stories,” Fives interrupted, waving his hand. “We need a space where people can share them. Somewhere they feel comfortable—like a library, but better.”

“You’ve been here two months,” Rex said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re already trying to redesign the village.”

“Not redesign,” Kix corrected. “Improve.”

Rex sighed, though there was no real frustration in it. He had expected this. His brothers had always been restless, their drive to make things better undiminished even in peace. And though he sometimes envied their clarity of purpose, he couldn’t deny the flicker of pride he felt watching them dream.

Nearby, (Y/n) turned just in time to catch the end of their conversation. She stepped closer, the bundle of herbs tucked neatly under her arm. “It sounds like you’ve got big plans,” she said lightly, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.

“They always do,” Rex muttered, shaking his head.

Fives grinned, gesturing broadly as if he were presenting a grand vision. “It’s not just a plan. It’s a future. A clinic for Kix, a network for stories, and who knows what else.”

“Sounds ambitious,” (Y/n) said, smiling as she looked at Kix. “But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Kix gave her a grateful nod, his expression softening. “It’s not just about me. It’s for everyone.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, thoughtful. “If it’s supplies you’re worried about, I might know a few people who can help. Farmers in the area sometimes trade goods with traveling merchants. Medical equipment isn’t common, but I can ask around.”

Kix’s face lit up, and even Fives stopped mid-gesture to look at her. “You’d do that?” Kix asked.

“Of course,” (Y/n) said, her tone matter-of-fact. “It’s a small village. We help each other.”

Rex watched the exchange in silence, something warm flickering in his chest. (Y/n) had a way of making things seem simple—natural, even. But what struck him most wasn’t her offer of help; it was the way she looked at his brothers, not with curiosity about who they’d been or what they were, but with quiet respect for who they were now.

**** 

The barn on the north ridge was little more than a skeleton of wood and stone when Rex and (Y/n) first walked through it with Kix. Dust motes floated in the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the walls, and the air smelled faintly of hay and damp earth. Kix stood in the center of the space, his boots scuffing against the floor as he turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“This could work,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful.

(Y/n) smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “It’ll need some work, but it’s got good bones. And the view’s not bad either.”

Rex followed her gaze to the wide doorway at the far end of the barn, where the land sloped gently toward the village below. “It’s more than not bad,” he admitted. “You’re sure about the supplies?”

“I’ve already spoken to a merchant,” (Y/n) said. “He’ll be in town next week with a shipment of surplus supplies from one of the larger cities. And I think the villagers would be willing to pitch in with the repairs.”

Kix looked at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and quiet determination. “This… this is going to make a difference,” he said softly.

“It already is,” (Y/n) replied.

Rex watched the exchange, his gaze lingering on (Y/n) for a moment longer than he intended. There was something about the way she spoke, the way she believed in what Kix was trying to do, that tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite name.

*** 

If the barn was Kix’s domain, the square became Fives’. He had a way of drawing people in, his energy infectious as he darted from stall to stall, chatting with villagers and brothers alike. It wasn’t long before he began setting up what he called “story circles”—gatherings where people shared tales of the war, of peace, of loss and hope.

(Y/n) became one of his strongest supporters, offering her shop as a space for the recordings he collected. She and Rex spent hours helping Fives sort through the recordings, labeling and organizing them with the kind of care that made each story feel important.

One evening, as they worked late in the shop, (Y/n) caught Rex staring at her. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rex said quickly, though his ears burned. “Just… you’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“At making people feel seen,” he said quietly.

Her smile softened, and for a moment, the warmth between them felt like something unspoken but shared.

**** 

Rex’s visits to (Y/n)’s shop became more frequent as the months passed. He told himself it was practical—there was always something to discuss, some plan to refine. But his brothers began to notice the subtle shifts in his behavior. The way he lingered just a bit longer than necessary when (Y/n) laughed. The way he’d fix small things around the shop—a creaky hinge, a leaky faucet—without being asked.

One afternoon, as they returned from helping Fives set up a recording session, Jesse nudged Fives with a grin. “You see the way he looks at her?”

Fives smirked, leaning back against the wall of the square. “Oh, I see it. The question is, does he see it?”

“He’s Rex,” Jesse said with a shrug. “He’ll be the last to admit it.”

“But he’s happier,” Fives said, his grin fading into something softer. “That’s what matters. 

***

The warm embrace of summer blanketed Idelmor, bringing with it longer days, golden light, and the gentle hum of progress. The village square buzzed with the energy of change, laughter and voices mingling with the sounds of hammers and saws, of crates being unloaded and carried into newly restored spaces. The call that had gone out months ago had not only brought more brothers but their ideas, their ambitions, and their willingness to shape this village into something more than a haven.

And through it all, Rex found himself drawn deeper into the rhythm of this growing community. It wasn’t just the work—it was the people. His brothers, the villagers, and (Y/n).

Always (Y/n).

****

The barn on the north ridge had undergone a transformation. The broken beams had been replaced with sturdy wood, the walls sealed with care, and the wide doorway now framed a view of rolling hills and the distant outline of the village below. Inside, the space was alive with purpose. Shelves stocked with medical supplies lined the walls, and clean, white curtains separated small treatment areas. A desk, repaired by Tech and polished to a shine by Jesse, sat near the front, where Kix now worked tirelessly to treat anyone who walked through the doors.

The villagers came first, hesitant at first but warmed by Kix’s steady, reassuring presence. Then more clones arrived, those who had spent years fighting injuries they couldn’t afford to treat, limping into the clinic with quiet hope.

Rex stood just inside the door one afternoon, watching as Kix bandaged the arm of a farmer who had taken a nasty fall. Jesse was in the corner, sorting a pile of donated blankets with his usual flair for humor.

“Hey, Rex,” Jesse called, tossing a bright orange blanket into the air like a cape. “Think this color would suit Kix?”

“Depends,” Kix replied without looking up from his work. “Will it keep the patients warm, or just blind them?”

The farmer chuckled, and even Rex cracked a smile as Jesse mockingly clutched his chest, pretending to stagger from the insult.

Nearby, (Y/n) stood beside Echo and Tech, who were working on installing a small communications terminal near the back of the clinic. She watched their movements with quiet fascination, her hands clutching a crate of fresh linens she’d brought to donate.

“Do they ever stop?” she asked Rex softly, her eyes flicking to Kix, Jesse, and the others.

“Not really,” Rex replied, his voice low but fond. “It’s how they’re wired.”

“And you?” (Y/n) asked, glancing at him with a small smile. “Do you ever stop?”

Rex hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He looked down at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a pause. “I guess I don’t think about it much.”

“Well,” (Y/n) said, her voice teasing but gentle, “maybe you should.”

****

Meanwhile, Fives’ story circles had become a cornerstone of the village’s culture. What had started as small gatherings around a table in (Y/n)’s shop had grown into a full-fledged network. Fives now hosted weekly events in the square, where clones and villagers alike gathered to share tales of the past, their hopes for the future, and everything in between.

One evening, (Y/n) sat beside Rex on one of the benches near the circle, the glow of lanterns illuminating the faces of those gathered. Fives stood in the center, gesturing animatedly as he recounted a particularly daring mission from the war. The crowd laughed, some shaking their heads, others leaning forward with rapt attention.

“He’s good at this,” (Y/n) said, her voice warm as she watched Fives.

“He’s always been a talker,” Rex replied, though there was no annoyance in his tone. If anything, there was pride. “But he’s doing more than just talking. He’s building something.”

(Y/n) looked at Rex, her expression thoughtful. “You all are.”

Rex glanced at her, his chest tightening at the quiet conviction in her words. He wanted to say something, but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he looked back at the circle, where Fives was now pulling Jesse into the spotlight to share a story of his own.

***

Further down the village road, an old granary had been repurposed into something entirely new—a school. It was Wolffe’s idea, born from his growing work with the children in the village and the small group of cadets who had arrived with the last wave of brothers. He had roped in Hardcase, Obi-Wan, and Plo Koon to help bring it to life, and together, they had built something remarkable.

Rex visited the school one afternoon, finding Wolffe in the middle of teaching a self-defense lesson to a group of children. Wrecker stood nearby, demonstrating a move with exaggerated flair, drawing peals of laughter from the kids. Plo Koon watched from the doorway, his presence calm and steady, while Obi-Wan helped Hardcase carry in a stack of wooden practice dummies.

“You think they’re ready for this?” Rex asked, leaning against the wall as he watched Wolffe bark instructions.

“They’ve got more patience than you’d expect,” Obi-Wan replied with a faint smile. “Especially Wolffe. He’s good with them.”

Rex nodded, his gaze shifting to the children. Their laughter filled the space, blending with Wolffe’s gruff encouragement and Wrecker’s booming cheer. It was a sound that felt out of place in his memories of the past but perfectly at home here.

**** 

Through all of it, (Y/n) remained a constant presence. She was there at the clinic, helping Kix organize supplies. She was there at the story circles, quietly encouraging villagers to share their voices. And she was there in the quiet moments, when Rex found himself lingering in her shop longer than he meant to.

One evening, after helping Fives carry a stack of recordings into the shop, Rex noticed (Y/n) struggling with a leaky faucet behind the counter. He stepped forward without thinking. “Let me take a look.”

(Y/n) straightened, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ve got it,” Rex said firmly, crouching down to inspect the pipes.

(Y/n) watched him work, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Rex glanced up, raising a brow. “How so?”

“You lead an army, you build a community, and now you’re fixing faucets,” she teased, her tone light but warm. “What can’t you do?”

Rex shrugged, though his ears burned at the compliment. “Faucets are easier than people.”

(Y/n) laughed softly, and the sound settled something in him he hadn’t realized was restless.

****

Jesse and Fives caught the exchange from the doorway, both leaning against the frame with identical smirks.

“You see that?” Jesse whispered, elbowing Fives.

“Oh, I see it,” Fives replied, his grin widening. “He’s got it bad.”

“Think we should say something?” Jesse asked.

“Not a chance,” Fives said, crossing his arms. “This is too much fun to watch.”

As the summer stretched on, the brothers continued to notice the small moments—Rex lingering in the shop to help (Y/n) rearrange a shelf, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, the way her smile seemed to brighten when he walked through the door. And though neither of them said it, it was clear to everyone around them: they were falling for each other, piece by quiet piece.

***

As the leaves began to turn and the air grew crisp, the village prepared for the next season. The clinic was thriving, the story circles had become a beloved tradition, and the school had grown into a cornerstone of the community. Through it all, Rex found himself looking forward to one thing above all else: the moments he shared with (Y/n).

And though he didn’t quite know what to call the feeling yet, he couldn’t deny it anymore. Whatever it was, it had become as much a part of him as the brothers he called family, as the home they were building together.

***

The days grew shorter as autumn deepened, the crisp air carrying the scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke through the streets of Idelmor. The village square buzzed with quiet industry as preparations for the season’s harvest festival began. Rex found himself drawn more and more to (Y/n)’s shop—not just because of the warmth it offered or the comfort of the books and trinkets that filled its shelves, but because of (Y/n) herself.

It had become something of a routine. After long days spent helping Kix at the clinic or lending a hand at the school, Rex would find his way to the shop. Some days, it was to talk through plans for the village. Other days, it was simply to sit by the fire while (Y/n) worked, her presence grounding in a way he hadn’t expected.

**** 

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow casting a warm light over the shop as Rex sat in his usual spot near the window. (Y/n) stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled up as she carefully polished a carved wooden box. She worked slowly, her focus intent, but her movements lacked their usual ease.

Rex noticed. He always noticed.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his voice low but steady.

(Y/n) glanced up, startled out of her thoughts. She offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”

Rex leaned back in his chair, studying her. He didn’t press, but he let the silence stretch between them, waiting.

Finally, (Y/n) sighed, setting the box down and brushing her hands against her apron. “I’ve been thinking about my father,” she admitted, her voice softer now. She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “He built this place, you know. Not just the shop, but… the heart of it. He wanted it to be a gathering place, somewhere people could come and feel at home. He called it ‘a place for stories.’”

Rex tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like he had a clear vision.”

“He did,” (Y/n) said, her gaze drifting to the shelves. “But sometimes I wonder if I’ve done enough to live up to it. The shop’s still here, but is it what he dreamed it would be? I don’t know. And now with all the changes in the village…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It feels like I’m always one step behind.”

Rex let her words settle in the air before speaking. “I don’t think anyone here would say you’re behind.”

(Y/n) looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look around,” Rex said, gesturing to the room. “The people who come in here—they don’t just see shelves and trinkets. They see a place where they can talk, share, connect. Fives wouldn’t have gotten his story circles off the ground without you. Kix wouldn’t have half his supplies. And me…” He paused, his voice softening. “I don’t think I would’ve found half the things I’ve been looking for without this place.”

(Y/n)’s breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. The weight she carried, the worry that she wasn’t enough, didn’t vanish, but Rex’s words chipped away at it, leaving her feeling lighter, steadier.

*** 

(Y/n) stepped around the counter and sat in the chair opposite him, her hands folded in her lap. She studied him for a moment, her gaze steady. “What about you?” she asked gently. “What are you looking for, Rex?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For years, he had carried the burden of being a leader, of keeping his brothers together. Even now, in this quiet village where the weight of war had lifted, he found himself unable to let go of the questions that had haunted him.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low. “I guess… I’ve spent so much of my life being told who I’m supposed to be. A soldier. A leader. I didn’t think about what came next because there was never supposed to be a ‘next.’”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her expression soft. “But now there is.”

“Yeah,” Rex admitted, his hands tightening into fists on his knees. “And it scares me. I see my brothers finding their places—Kix with his clinic, Fives with his stories, Wolffe at the school. But me? I don’t know if I’m built for this. Peace, home, belonging… It feels like something meant for other people.”

(Y/n) leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “Why not you?”

Rex looked at her, his breath catching. Her question wasn’t just simple—it was powerful. It cut through the layers of doubt and fear he had buried himself in, leaving him exposed but not vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he said again, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve lost so many of them. Brothers who didn’t get a chance to figure out who they were beyond the war. I carry that with me, every day. And sometimes, it feels like… like I shouldn’t get to move forward if they can’t.”

(Y/n) reached out, resting a hand lightly on his arm. Her touch was warm, steady. “You carry their memory, Rex. That’s enough. But you deserve to live, too. Not for them, not because you’re trying to make up for what’s been lost, but because you’re here. You’re alive.”

Rex closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t pull away, either. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to sit with the possibility that maybe—just maybe—she was right.

****

The following morning, Rex found himself at the shop again, his excuse this time being a leaky pipe (Y/n) had mentioned in passing. She wasn’t expecting him, and when he walked in with his toolbox slung over one shoulder, she blinked at him in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, setting down the stack of books she’d been organizing.

“You said something about a shelf that’s wobbly,” Rex replied, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Figured I’d take a look.”

(Y/n) smiled, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Rex interrupted, meeting her eyes briefly before turning toward the back room.

She watched him go, her chest tightening with a mix of warmth and something deeper—something she hadn’t quite named yet. As she went back to her work, she found herself glancing toward the back room more often than necessary, her thoughts drifting.

Meanwhile, Rex look at said shelf, tightening a stubborn screw as his thoughts swirled. Fixing things was easy. Straightforward. But the way (Y/n) had looked at him last night, the way her words had stayed with him, was anything but.

***

Later that evening, Jesse and Fives caught up with Rex at the clinic, their expressions far too knowing for Rex’s liking.

“You’re spending a lot of time at that shop,” Jesse said casually, leaning against a crate.

“(Y/n)’s shop,” Fives added, smirking. “Or should we call it your shop now?”

Rex shot them a warning look. “You two need to mind your own business.”

“Business?” Jesse said innocently. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see you smiling more. (Y/n)’s good for you.”

“She’s a friend,” Rex said firmly, though the warmth in his chest betrayed him.

Fives exchanged a look with Jesse, his grin widening. “Sure, Captain. Whatever you say.”

As the evening wore on, Rex couldn’t shake their words. But as he made his way back toward the shop, his steps slower than usual, he began to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.

****

Through the growing closeness of their bond, Rex and (Y/n) continued to share pieces of themselves—small moments, quiet confessions, and unspoken feelings that deepened with each passing day. 

****

The snow began to fall softly, coating Idelmor in a shimmering layer of white, turning the village into the winter wonderland Rex and his brothers had first discovered a year ago. The sight stirred a strange mixture of nostalgia and peace in Rex. He hadn’t realized just how much had changed since their arrival—not just for his brothers, but for himself.

And yet, it wasn’t Rex thinking about the transformation this time. It was his brothers, huddled together in the cottage late one evening as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

Fives leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his grin gleamed in the firelight. “Alright, let’s face it. Captain ‘I-Don’t-Do-Personal’ is head over heels for (Y/n), and he doesn’t even know it.”

Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, he knows it. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

“More like too scared,” Kix added, his tone softer but no less pointed. “He’s spent the whole year doing things for everyone else. He doesn’t know how to think about what he wants.”

“That’s where we come in,” Fives said with a gleam in his eye. “We’ve got to give him the push he needs. And lucky for us…” He stood, moving toward the shelf near the fire where the snow globe rested, its glass catching the flickering light. “We’ve got just the thing.”

Cody raised a brow from his place near the window. “You want to use the snow globe?”

“Why not?” Fives said, holding it up. “We’ve all used it. It’s only fair we use it for Rex. He’s done more for us this year than anyone. It’s time we returned the favor.”

“And what exactly do you think it’s going to show?” Wolffe asked dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“Only one way to find out,” Fives said, setting the globe down on the table and motioning for everyone to gather around.

*** 

The brothers leaned in as Fives placed his hands firmly on the snow globe. He closed his eyes, focusing on Rex—not the soldier, not the captain, but the man they all knew and admired, the one who had been quietly building a future for everyone but himself.

The vision came quickly, blooming to life within the swirling flakes of the globe. At first, it was the village square, glowing softly under the light of lanterns and garlands. Rex stood near the fountain, his expression relaxed in a way they rarely saw. (Y/n) was beside him, her hand tucked into his, her laughter filling the space between them.

The scene shifted. The two of them were in a small house on the edge of the village. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was warm and alive, filled with soft light and the quiet joy of family. Two children darted around the room—one with (Y/n)’s bright blue eyes, the other with Rex’s steady gaze. The house itself felt like an extension of the happiness they shared, simple but full of warmth.

The vision faded, leaving the brothers in stunned silence.

“Did you see that?” Jesse finally whispered, breaking the stillness.

“Rex wants a family,” Kix murmured, his tone filled with quiet realization.

“With (Y/n),” Fives said, his grin widening. “I knew it.”

Wrecker, who had been unusually quiet, crossed his arms and nodded firmly. “We’ve got to make it happen.”

Cody let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” Fives corrected. “And you’re in, Cody. Admit it.”

Cody’s silence was answer enough.

****

The next few days were a flurry of activity as the brothers threw themselves into helping decorate the village for Christmas. Strings of lanterns and garlands were hung along the rooftops, while villagers worked together to set up a towering Christmas tree in the center of the square. Jesse and Fives took charge of setting up the lights, their banter echoing through the frosty air as they climbed ladders and secured decorations.

“Think this is bright enough?” Jesse called, holding up a strand of lights that practically sparkled.

“Not until the entire galaxy can see it,” Fives shot back, earning a laugh from the gathered crowd.

Wrecker helped carry massive bundles of evergreen branches to line the walkways, his booming laugh ringing out every time a villager tried to lift something too heavy. Even Wolffe, who usually avoided anything resembling festivities, found himself roped into overseeing the placement of the ornaments on the tree.

Through it all, Rex worked quietly alongside them, his focus split between organizing supplies and watching his brothers with quiet amusement. What he didn’t notice was how often they sent meaningful glances in his direction or how deliberately they worked with (Y/n) to draw him closer to her orbit.

*** 

The night before Christmas Eve, the brothers struck. (Y/n) had agreed to stay late at the shop to help organize some of the decorations, and Fives made sure Rex was the one tasked with delivering her dinner.

“It’s just a quick drop-off,” Fives said with a grin, handing Rex a small basket of warm food. “She’s been working all day. You should check on her.”

Rex frowned, sensing something suspicious in Fives’ tone, but he didn’t argue. “Fine.”

When Rex arrived at the shop, (Y/n) greeted him with a tired but genuine smile. “Rex. What’s this?”

“Dinner,” he said simply, holding up the basket. “Fives thought you might need it.”

(Y/n) chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. The shop was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the fire in the hearth and the glow of a few candles scattered across the counter. The warmth of the room enveloped Rex as he stepped inside, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.

“I didn’t realize it was this late,” (Y/n) admitted, setting the basket on the counter. “Thank you. I could use a break.”

Rex hesitated, glancing around. “Do you need help with anything?”

(Y/n) tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Actually, I was about to head to the square. They’ve finished decorating, and I thought I’d take a look. Want to join me?”

He paused, caught off guard by the question. “I… sure.”

*** 

The village square was aglow with light, lanterns and garlands casting a golden hue over the snow-covered ground. The Christmas tree stood tall and radiant, its ornaments sparkling in the soft light. (Y/n) and Rex walked side by side, their breaths visible in the crisp air.

(Y/n) stopped near the tree, her gaze lifting to the lights strung across the rooftops. “The lights are beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are,” Rex said softly, though his eyes weren’t on the lights. He was looking at (Y/n).

She noticed, her cheeks warming as she glanced at him. “You’re not looking at the lights.”

Rex’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Neither are you.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet between them filled with unspoken words. (Y/n) shifted, her gloved hands curling around the edge of her coat. “Rex, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice steady.

“Do you ever think about what you want?” she asked, her tone gentle but searching. “Not for your brothers, not for the village—for you.”

The question caught him off guard, his brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know. I guess I’ve spent so much time thinking about everyone else, I never really let myself consider it.”

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze dropping to the snow beneath their feet. “I think you should. Because you deserve it.”

Her words settled over him, heavy but not unwelcome. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder—not just about the future, but about the possibility of a future with her.

“Maybe,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “But sometimes, it’s hard to see it until someone shows you.”

(Y/n)’s breath hitched at the quiet vulnerability in his voice, and she found herself stepping closer, her fingers brushing his arm. “Then let me show you.”

Rex didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, he reached for her hand, his touch tentative but steady, and for the first time, the world around them seemed to fall away.

***

From the shadows of the square, Fives, Jesse, and the others watched the scene unfold, their grins wide despite the cold.

“Finally,” Jesse muttered, shaking his head. “Took him long enough.”

“I told you this would work,” Fives said smugly, crossing his arms. “You all doubted me.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Cody muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his smile. “It’s about time he got something for himself.”

As they watched Rex and (Y/n) walk away together, their figures silhouetted against the glow of the lights, the brothers shared a quiet sense of satisfaction. For once, their captain wasn’t carrying the weight of the world—and that was a gift worth giving.

****

The village square was alive with the magic of Christmas Eve. Lanterns and garlands strung between buildings glowed softly, their light reflecting off the fresh blanket of snow that covered the ground. The towering Christmas tree in the center of the square shimmered with ornaments and strings of lights, and a gentle flurry of snowflakes swirled in the air, adding to the enchantment of the scene.

Villagers and brothers alike filled the square, their laughter and chatter blending with the melodies of a small band playing near the tree. Children darted through the crowd, clutching mugs of warm cider and marveling at the decorations. It was a celebration of joy, community, and hope, and Rex found himself quietly taking it all in from the edge of the square.

(Y/n) was somewhere in the crowd—he’d caught a glimpse of her earlier, laughing with one of the children from the school. The sight had stuck with him, warming something deep inside that he hadn’t yet put a name to.

***

Unbeknownst to Rex, his brothers—and now, Obi-Wan and Plo Koon—were watching him from a discreet distance. Fives was grinning ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he pointed toward a carefully hung sprig of mistletoe near the fountain.

“I’m just saying,” Fives whispered, elbowing Jesse. “If they happen to end up there, it’d be… poetic.”

“Poetic?” Cody said dryly, crossing his arms. “This is the most obvious scheme you’ve ever come up with.”

“And yet,” Plo Koon said, his voice calm but amused, “it’s oddly endearing.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his arms folded as he watched the scene unfold. “You’re lucky Rex isn’t as perceptive about his own emotions as he is about battle tactics.”

Fives waved them off, turning to Plo Koon. “You’re sure you’re good with the timing?”

The Kel Dor nodded serenely. “The Force is subtle, my friend. But in this case… perhaps a little less so.”

****

Rex spotted (Y/n) near the fountain, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm as she admired the lights strung above. The soft glow reflected in her blue eyes, and Rex felt his feet moving before he’d even decided to approach her.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice low but warm.

(Y/n) turned, her smile lighting up her face. “I am. The boys—and the villagers—really outdid themselves.”

“They’ve been busy,” Rex agreed, though his tone carried a hint of something unspoken. His gaze lingered on her face, the way the snowflakes caught in her hair and the glow of the lights softened her features. “It’s… good to see you smiling.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “It’s good to see you here,” she said softly. “Not just physically, but… here. With them. With us.”

Rex felt a warmth rise in his chest, but before he could reply, a light tug seemed to pull him forward. He blinked, glancing down at his boots, which had suddenly come to an unexplainable stop. Beside him, (Y/n) let out a surprised laugh.

“Did you just—?”

“No,” Rex said quickly, frowning as he tried to move his feet again. They didn’t budge. (Y/n) seemed similarly rooted to the spot.

From somewhere nearby, Fives’ voice rang out, overly casual and far too loud. “Hey, Cap! You know what they say about standing under mistletoe?”

Rex’s eyes shot up, following Fives’ pointed gesture. Sure enough, there it was—a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above their heads. He turned back to (Y/n), his brow furrowing. “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?”

(Y/n)’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, though she laughed softly. “Positive… maybe… probably.”

Rex glanced toward the group of brothers—Fives, Jesse, Kix, and even Wolffe—who were grinning like fools. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but before he could question their involvement, (Y/n) cleared her throat.

“It’s a legend,” she explained, her voice quick but light. “On our planet, mistletoe is supposed to bring good luck. If you stand under it with someone, you’re supposed to…” She trailed off, her cheeks warming further. “You’re supposed to kiss.”

Fives took that as his cue. “It’s tradition, Cap! You don’t want to mess with tradition.”

Jesse chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, Rex. It’s for good luck.”

Rex sighed, his shoulders stiffening slightly as he turned back to (Y/n). “And you’re sure this is… part of the celebrations?”

(Y/n) smiled, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “It’s… part of the legend.”

For a moment, they stood there, the snow falling softly around them as the world seemed to hold its breath. (Y/n)’s heart raced, her thoughts spinning. Rex, so steady and sure in battle, seemed almost uncertain now, his gaze searching hers for permission.

And then, slowly, he leaned closer.

Their lips met softly, tentatively, and for that moment, the noise of the square faded into nothing. The warmth of the kiss spread through Rex like the glow of the village lights, chasing away the cold and leaving only the quiet certainty that this—she—was what he had been searching for.

When they pulled apart, (Y/n) let out a soft laugh, her forehead resting briefly against his. “Well,” she said, her voice breathless but teasing, “I think we’re officially free of the mistletoe.”

Rex chuckled, his own voice low and warm. “I’m not complaining.”

****

From their hiding spot, Fives punched the air triumphantly. “That’s how it’s done.”

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Jesse muttered, though his grin betrayed his pride.

“It’s about time,” Kix said, crossing his arms. “He’s been mooning over her for months.”

Obi-Wan and Plo Koon exchanged amused glances, the former raising a brow. “Well, I suppose the Force has many uses.”

Cody sighed, shaking his head but unable to hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s going to kill all of you when he figures this out.”

“Worth it,” Fives said smugly. “Totally worth it.”

***

As the snow continued to fall, Rex and (Y/n) remained under the mistletoe, the glow of the village lights surrounding them. For Rex, the moment felt like something out of a dream—one he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for. And for (Y/n), it was a moment that brought every quiet hope she’d held for the past year to life.

In the square, the lights sparkled, the music played on, and the magic of Christmas wrapped around them all.

****

The snow fell gently over Idelmor, blanketing the village in a pristine white that shimmered beneath the golden glow of lanterns and garlands. The square, once again transformed for Christmas, had never looked more radiant. Strings of lights crisscrossed the streets, evergreen wreaths adorned every door, and the towering Christmas tree at the square’s center sparkled with ornaments and ribbons that swayed gently in the winter breeze.

But tonight, the decorations weren’t the focus of attention. Tonight, it was Rex and (Y/n), standing hand in hand beneath an arch of holly and winter roses, surrounded by their brothers, villagers, and the Jedi who had also found peace on this planet. 

The crowd gathered in the square was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon stood near the front, their expressions warm and proud. Ahsoka was nearby, her cheeks flushed from the cold but her grin wide as she stood beside Jesse and Fives, who looked far too smug for anyone’s comfort.

****

Rex stood beneath the arch, his green and gold tunic catching the glow of the lights, though his attention was entirely on (Y/n). She walked toward him slowly, her gown flowing around her like a dream, her eyes meeting his with a steadiness that made the rest of the world fall away. 

When she reached him, they turned to face one another, their hands clasped tightly. The officiant—a cheerful villager with a deep voice and a ready smile—welcomed everyone before turning the floor over to the couple.

“Your vows,” the officiant prompted gently, stepping back.

Rex took a breath, steadying himself as he looked into (Y/n)’s eyes. “When I first came to this village, I didn’t think I’d ever find peace. I didn’t think it was something I deserved, or something I could even imagine. But then I met you.” His voice softened, his thumb brushing over her hand. “You reminded me that there’s beauty in the quiet moments. That it’s okay to hope, to dream. And standing here now, I know I’ve found my home—with you.”

(Y/n)’s lips trembled with the weight of her smile, tears glistening in her eyes. She paused, collecting herself before she spoke. “A year ago, we stood in this square, and I remember looking at these lights. I remember saying, ‘The lights are beautiful.’” She paused, her voice growing softer as her gaze held his. “But I wasn’t looking at the lights. I was looking at you.”

Rex’s chest tightened, emotion sweeping through him as the crowd around them fell utterly silent. The words hung between them, carrying the memory of their first steps toward each other. 

“And now,” (Y/n) continued, her voice steadying, “I get to stand here with you and promise that you’ll always have a home. Not just in this village, but with me. With us.”

The officiant stepped forward again, smiling broadly. “Then, by the power vested in me by the good people of Idelmor, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Rex didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping (Y/n)’s face gently as he kissed her, the crowd erupting into cheers and applause around them. The kiss was soft but sure, a promise made under the glow of the lights and the soft swirl of snow.

****

As the celebration began, with music and dancing filling the square, Rex and (Y/n) found themselves wandering away from the main crowd. The snow was still falling, dusting their hair and shoulders as they walked hand in hand toward the edge of the square.

“Do you think we can hide from them for a bit?” Rex asked with a faint smile, glancing back toward the crowd, where Fives was already attempting to lead Wrecker in some sort of coordinated dance.

(Y/n) laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

They stopped beneath one of the lantern poles near the edge of the square, the glow from the light casting a warm halo around them. (Y/n) tilted her head back, her gaze catching on something just above their heads.

“Mistletoe,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Rex followed her gaze, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Let me guess. Fives?”

“Probably,” (Y/n) said with a laugh, though her voice softened as she looked back at him. “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?”

“Positive,” Rex replied, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… probably.”

(Y/n)’s laughter was quiet but warm, and before she could say anything else, Rex leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was slower this time, deeper, carrying with it all the love and quiet understanding that had grown between them over the past year.

***

From their hiding spot near the tree, Fives elbowed Jesse with a grin. “What did I tell you? Best. Plan. Ever.”

“I’ll give you this one,” Jesse muttered, though he couldn’t hide his grin. “But if they figure it out, you’re taking the fall.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, though his smile was genuine. “I believe they’re past the point of caring who orchestrated this.”

Plo Koon, standing beside him, inclined his head. “Indeed. The Force may have nudged them together, but it’s their bond that carried them here.”

Cody watched the couple from a distance, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shook his head with a faint smirk. “He deserves this.”

***

As Rex and (Y/n) returned to the celebration, the music swelled, the brothers raised their glasses, and the villagers cheered. The magic of Christmas wrapped around them all, a fitting continuation of a love story that had started under the same lights, in the same snow, just a year before.

For Rex, the lights truly were beautiful. But like (Y/n), he wasn’t looking at them anymore.

He was looking at his future as he craddled his hand over his wife’s growing bump.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 54

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

all i want for christmas by tusslee

“Listen,” Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers in his hands, “I’m as bad at this as you probably are and this is going to be really cheesy, but that’s the way I was raised and I know I act like an idiot around pretty girls, but I’m an even bigger idiot around you. Go ahead and try to guess why that is. No, actually don't do that."

this one is gonna be an xmas special!! even though im writing this before halloween lol. anyways. this was so cute!! lance being all stressed about what he should get keith bc he's all in love w him any everything. so real.

2. You're Here (Where You Should Be) by @blue-wanderer

"And if you’re worried about the cameras just take care of them.” “Take care—! Take care of them? With what, Keith?” “I don’t know?” Keith asks, busily testing his foothold in the gate and generally ignoring the rising storm cloud of ire behind him. “With a gun?” “A gun? This isn’t some sort of black ops storming an enemy base thing! This is a Christmas tree thing!” “I don’t see a difference? You’re the sharpshooter. Shoot out the cameras.” “Let me just pull a gun out of my ass, Keith!” “OK, problem solved,” Keith agrees, taking another step up the gate. “Nothing is solved you dumb country space redneck!”

Or Keith and Lance may be disasters at decorating, but Christmas still manages to work its magic on them.

i bookmarked this like a year ago and let me tell you all i needed to hear was dumb country space redneck and i was hooked 😭😭 and it lived up to the name fr. hate the canon ending? want lance to not be a farmer while still acknowledging his struggles with homesickness? want some whipped keith and meddlesome kosmo? want some cheesy xmas feels? click ahead!

3. make my wish come true by angelbolt

“A world where one has to fight for custody of one’s boyfriend is a godless one,” Lance muttered, slumping so he was leaning against Hunk. Shiro exchanged some final words with Kolivan before the screen blipped out. Ah yes, the ideal Christmas Eve: long boring talks and war meetings. Wonderful. ❆❅❆ keith comes home for christmas.

fun game idea: take a shot every time you see a klance xmas fic with a mariah carey lyric. lol. ANYWAYS yall know me and established relationship + early season dynamics!! i am obsessed!! and this fic delivers!! grumpy lance pov who just wants the rest of the world to fuck off for a couple days so he can have his bf around. he's such a voice of the people

4. i'll be home for christmas by @thespacenico

A severe bout of winter weather threatens to stop Shiro from making it home for his first Christmas with Keith. Shiro is ready to do whatever it takes to keep his promise.

okay this one is from darcy's i've got you brother, which i am obsessed with and have cried over several times, and which just recently updated! this fic is so cute and a adashi with young keith always fucking gets to me, man. they're just so. shiro being so desperately determined to keep his promise to young keith who has had so many promises broken that he doesnt even expect shiro to try. but is happy that he does. sobbing.

5. the greatest gift of all by dumpsterdiva

Keith’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he stammered, “D-do you really mean that?” Lance looked a bit sheepish as he said, “I… It’s crazy, right? I mean, it’s way too soon. You know I was kidding.” Keith straightened up. “Well, I’m not. Marry me.” “What?!” “You heard me, you coward. Marry me.” “That’s the worst proposal ever!” “Worse than you threatening me with marriage so I would stop talking about how amazing you are?”

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PROPOSAL FICS. i feel ksjbskdbqjdbqwlwd about them. okay. and throw in a christmas setting??? and banter?? and a MODERN AU?? i am doing my best, people. this fic had me shoving a pillow into my face and screaming.

that’s it for today!! happy holidays! merry christmas!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[euphoniumpets]

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM | CHAPTER SEVEN

Prompt: ''As long as I can rememer, I've been protecting Alina, it's always Alina who I will protect,'' You told him, looking at Nikolai. ''But who will protect you?''

Warnings: Violence, blood and gore.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. 

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Starkov! Reader

Taglist: @lyria-skyfall@khaleesihavilliard@shine101 @waddlingwanderer @clqudias @ducks118 @xceafh@peakyispunk @wilmasvensson @parbatai-winchester @priincehoseok@riot-in-my-soulsoul @feyredarling92 @vendy021 @ssprayberrythings @goldenpoison @shine101 @lili-of-the-dream @xushisuxi @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @jennylil @themermaidscales82

Tag list are closed!

A/N: we've come to a conclusion or a thought where I decide to write smut further in the chapters but i need y'all votes because i'm hesitant if you guys want smut further in the chapters lmao. and again, this is a long chapter because i got carried away.

old masterlist | navi | new masterlist

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - epilogue

You hated it. 

Oh, so you desperately hated it. 

You could feel every person in the room giving you looks and you didn’t know if it was a good one or a bad one. ‘’Why must you always play the diplomat, Nikolai?’’ You heard Vasily's question at the table. ‘’A shu and Grisha dining beside true Ravkan soldiers is a bit much for all our stomachs,’’ Vasily remarked. 

‘’We’re all Ravkan here,’’ You sneered and tried to be calm. ‘’Doesn’t need to be us versus them,’’ Nikolai replied and looked at his brother. ‘’Kirigian should’ve thought of that,’’ Vasily replied with his drink in hand. ‘’Before he tried to murder my father and stage a coup, that said: absent they're Darkling the Grisha are rather easy to manage,’’

‘’By manage do you mean execute: Moi tsarevich?’’ You asked boldly and turned your head to face him. ‘’That fate is reserved for traitors to the Crown, Miss Starkov,’’ 

‘’If the second Army requires a leader loyal to the Crown to assure their fealty, my sister will lead them,’’ You remarked. You looked at Vasily as he let out a laugh. ‘’Why should I believe you and your sister that you have any loyalty to my family?’’ He asked. You paused before your eyes trailed to Nikolai. 

He met your gaze before standing up from his chair and raising a glass to get the people’s attention. ‘’Today marks the start of a new era of cooperation between Lantsov and Grisha, I’m delighted to announce my engagement to Y/N Starkov, the sister of the Sun Summoner,’’ Nikolai presented. ‘’And with her sister being the Sun Summoner, she will be the new leader of the Second Army, together we'll build a better future for Ravka,’’ 

You locked your gaze with Mal and Alina not from far away and saw their surprised gazes. They never thought that you would agree on the marriage but yet here you were. For Ravka. 

‘’That was a bit much,’’ You responded after everybody had cheered and Nikolai had sat down. 

‘’Understatement is overrated,’’ He replied as you took a sip from your drink. 

-

Alina had left with Tamar and Nadia to go and do some training. They offered to come with but you declined and told them to do some studying of the Firebird. You hoped some of the history books had the answers since you knew that Alina had to kill you to get the third amplifier. You knew that she wasn’t going to do it, but if it was your only plan, you knew that you had to do it on your own. 

You heard fast footsteps approaching you in the library. You turned around with a frown and saw Adrik approaching you. ‘’I know, not to be disturbed, but they need you in the war room,’’ Adrik informed and you nodded. You placed the books down and followed after him. 

You stopped in your tracks when you noticed David standing with Tolya, Nikolai, Alina, Mal, Tamar, and Adrik when you recognized David. David flickered his eyes when he saw you and waved with the other hand and you noticed that his hands were tied. ‘’Oh, so you know him,’’ Nikolai replied when he noticed your gaze. ‘’He claims to have escaped from a very alive General Kirigian,’’ Nikolai revealed and approached you. You looked at Alina with a concerned gaze. ‘’He gave himself up without a struggle, we found this on him,’’ Nikolai said and handed you over the journal. ‘’He says it’s one of Morozova’s journals,’’ You grabbed the journal as Nikolai turned to face David. 

‘’I, for one, am dying to know more, but he insisted to speak with you and Alina,’’ Nikolai said. 

‘’Y/N…’’ David began to say and step forward before Tolya stopped him before he could go further. ‘’I know I wronged both of you, please I regret my role in that, I know you have a reason to distrust me, but I have no loyalty to General Kirigian,’’ David spoke. 

‘’He survived the Volcra?’’ Alina questioned him. ‘’I’m afraid so,’’ David revealed. ‘’He also knows that you both are in East Ravka,’’ David informed and you could feel your heart growing faster. You didn’t know if he found out that you were the Firebird but if he did he could find you here, you didn’t know if you were safe. ‘’Tell us where he is,’’ You demanded David. 

‘’No, no, no,’’ David replied and you narrowed your eyes. ‘’That would be a very bad idea-’’

‘’You can’t expect us to trust you unless you share information,’’ You snapped. ‘’Confronting him would be suicide,’’ David replied. ‘’Kirigian used Merzost to create something in the Fold, creatures that do his bidding the size of two men, formed of pure shadow,’’ He informed as your blood ran cold. ‘’They have no breath to take, no heart to stop, no blood to drain, yet, they live,’’ David explained. 

‘’They live and they kill,’’ 

‘’They are nichevo’ya: nothing: bullets, blades, fire, all simply pass through and they walk freely in sunlight, I fear that merzost may be the only way to kill them,’’ You looked at David and could see that he was terrified. Nikolai glanced at you and he could see the fear you formed in your eyes. ‘’So, how did you manage to get away?’’ Mal questioned. 

‘’Genya,’’ You snapped your thoughts away at the mention of Genya. ‘’We tried to escape together but the nichevo’ya,’’ David informed. ‘’She sacrificed herself to get me out,’’ A sadness washed over you for your friend. You knew how much Genya liked David back then at the Little Palace and you begged the saints that she was still alive. 

‘’I don’t know if she survived,’’

‘’A smart spy will always play the victim,’’ Tolya spoke and narrowed his eyes. ‘’No, no,’’ David protested and shook his head. ‘’You make a valid point, Tolya,’’ Nikolai responded before he turned to Alina. ‘’As a leader of the second army, this is your call,’’ Nikolai said. Alina looked at Nadia and gestured to come closer next to her. ‘’You’ve known David the longest, what do you think?’’

‘’Kirigian always kept him close,’’ Nadia spoke. Alina looked at you before her eyes placed on David. ‘’Take him to the holding cell,’’ Alina said as Tolya walked away with David. ‘’We need a moment alone, please,’’ Mal said and looked at Nikolai. 

Nikolai looked at the three of you as you nodded. ‘’Of course,’’ He replied before walking away, leaving the three of you alone. You let out a sigh. ‘’Do you trust him?’’ Mal asked the two of you. 

‘’I don’t know,’’ You answered. ‘’Not entirely,’’ Alina added. ‘’The shadow monsters…’’ Mal trailed off as you thought for a moment. ‘’But why would he lie?’’ You asked them. ‘’Kirigian’s a force to be reckoned with, but if it’s true, I need to hunt the Firebird,’’ Mal responded making you look at him. 

‘’Or I can do something right now, an alternative to boost my power,’’ Alina suggested and you looked at her. ‘’Alternative?’’ You asked. ‘’He created soldiers of shadow,’’ Alina said. ‘’Maybe, maybe I can tear down the Fold by creating soldiers of light,’’ Alina informed. ‘’With what? Merzost?’’ You inquired. ‘’The Darkling messed with it and we got the Fold for 400 years,’’

‘’And now he has monsters who walk with him,’’ Alina argued. ‘’Give me time to track down the Firebird,’’ Mal said which made you sigh. ‘’There’s always a cost to merzost, it’s not worth the risk,’’

-

‘’Hey, you’re coming with us to Ketterdam?’’ You heard Tolya ask you as you approached him, Tolya, and Mal. ‘’You know I can’t, Queen duties,’’ You replied and rolled your eyes. ‘’Not going to lie, we all were surprised that you accepted the proposal,’’ Tamar spoke. ‘’Believe me, we all were,’’ You told her. 

‘’Too bad we can’t be here to see you in the dress that Nikolai had chosen,’’ Tamar replied. 

‘’Perhaps another time,’’ You responded. 

‘’You know it won’t be another time,’’ Tolya teased. ‘’Hey, now that she’s the Queen of Ravka, she’ll have to play dress up,’’ Tamar teased. 

‘’And the Queen of Ravka can hear you,’’ You responded as you gave them a look before you looked at them with a grin. 

 ‘’Be careful,’’ You told them before embracing him.

‘’Don’t worry, we will be back,’’ Tolya assured you and let go of you before walking away. ‘’And, don’t forget the snacks you’ll bring back from Shu Han!’’ You exclaimed. ‘’I can’t promise you anything,'' Tolya responded as you chuckled.

You , Mal, and Tamar said goodbye to each other as you walked back to your chambers to prepare for the ball. ‘’I hate this dress,’’ You murmured as you heard Alina chuckle. ‘’You look pretty, he has good taste,’’ Alina commented as you rolled your eyes and looked down at your dress. Nikolai had placed a dress in your room and it was uncomfortable for your liking. 

You disliked wearing pretty dresses and it was unusual for Alina to see you in one. ‘’How’s that, moy milaya? better?’’ The maid asked as you reached your arms. However, you couldn’t reach it further. ‘’Still can’t move my arms,’’ You replied softly and looked at her with a smile. ‘’I’ll get another corset,’’ She told you as you nodded. 

‘’Ugh, saints,’’ You whined. 

‘’It’s not that bad,’’ Alina replied as you turned around and looked at her and gave her a look. ‘’I can’t even breathe,’’ You complained. ‘’Well, I think you look great in that dress, you certainly look a queen,’’ Alina replied with a chuckle. ‘’Help me?’’ You asked and gestured to your back as Alina approached you. 

You heard the door open and you turned around to see Vasily. ‘’What do you want?’’ You asked. ‘’My my, Y/N, they never taught you manners did you?’’ Vasily remarked as Alina helped you undress behind the dressing room. You and Alina exchanged a look. You grabbed your coat as you stepped outside and looked at him. 

‘’I would prefer you call me Vasily,’’ He responded. ‘’At least when we’re in private,’’ He remarked after he heard you speak in Ravkan. ‘’What can I do for you, Moi Tsarevich?’’ You questioned. ‘’You call my brother by his given name,’’

‘’We met under different circumstances,’’ You explained. ‘’Yes, I’ve heard some find his whole Corsair act rather claiming,’’ He responded with a smirk, and you narrowed your eyes. ‘’If you excuse us-’’

‘’He must realize, no matter his aims, he will always be a second son,’’ He replied, and you looked at him. You felt your anger rise. ‘’Only I can make you a queen,’’ He spoke. ‘’I can assure you I have such no ambition,’’ 

‘’Is that so?’’ He questioned with a smirk. ‘’You’ve made no secret of your opinion on Grisha, why propose an alliance with me?’’ 

‘’I stand by my previous statements, the Ravkan people are fed up with being held hostage by Grisha tyrants, odds are some Grisha are good people, you could help me sort that out,’’ 

‘’Where would you find the time? Rumor has it you find yourself quite preoccupied at Caraveya, between the horse races and the brothels,’’ You replied boldly as you watched him take a step toward you with his jaw clenching. ‘’How many true allies do you have, Miss Starkov?’’ He questioned ‘’Grisha scraps with your sister being the leader of the Second Army, I imagine the Commander of the First would be a good one to keep,’’ He responded and glanced at Alina before looking at you.

‘’You’re a smart girl, consider your options,’’ He replied smugly before grabbing your hand softly and kissing at the top of your palm. ‘’Until then,’’ He spoke before leaving the room. You and Alina exchanged a look before you wiped your hand with disgust written on your face. 

-

You stared at your reflection and looked down at the dress before letting out a scoff. ‘’I take it down that you dislike the dress,’’ You heard Nikolai speak. You glanced up and saw him standing at the door frame with a smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes toward him. ‘’It’s hideous, I prefer wearing a kefta instead,’’ You spoke and turned around to face him. Nikolai chuckled and approached you. 

‘’I figured out that you would say so,’’ Nikolai replied before gesturing to the kefta he brought him with. You looked at him before letting out a grin on your face. You accepted the kefta in his hands before walking to the dressing room. You tried to get the dress off but you couldn’t reach the laces and usually, Alina would help you but she was at the party. ‘’I could use some help to undress, usually, Alina would help me but consider that she isn’t here…’’ You trailed off nervously. 

‘’Of course,’’ Nikolai replied and walked toward you. You looked in the mirror in front of you and saw him standing behind you. Your heart was beating fast when he was close to you and you could feel his fingers through the laces and you felt your cheeks warming up. You scolded yourself in your head when he was the one who made you flustered. 

You felt the laces loosen up as Nikolai met your gaze in the mirror, giving you a small smile before walking out. ‘’Some of the Grisha were kind enough to help and put this together,’’ You heard him speak as you put on the kefta. You smiled and realized that the two of you were matching before walking out. You saw Nikolai look at you with adoration in his expression while you gave a little twirl. 

‘’Well?’’ You asked. ‘’I would prefer to see you in one of the keftas instead of the pretty dresses,’’ Nikolai replied with a chuckle. ‘’I think I have just the flourish to complete the look,’’ He told you and approached you closer. ‘’Consider this as a gift,’’

You watched him grab something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw the Lantsov ring in his hand. ‘’The Lantsov Emerald,’’ You spoke and looked down. ‘’Understatement is overrated,’’ You quoted with a small smile. ‘’I love it when you quote me,’’ You just shook your head with a smile in response. 

‘’Console yourself knowing that, should you ever punch me while wearing it, you’ll probably take my eye out, and I’d very much like you to,’’ You looked at him. ‘’Wear it, that’s it, not punch me,’’ He explained as the two of you chuckled. ‘’May I?’’ He asked and you nodded. You reached your hand out and felt him grab your hand softly before placing the ringer on. ‘’I must say, this is the longest conversation we have had instead of ripping each other head’s off,’’ You spoke as you heard him laugh softly. 

‘’Indeed,’’ He spoke as the two of you walked out of the room. ‘’Your mother will not be pleased you gave this to a commoner,’’ You remarked as you stepped down the stairs. ‘’If my mother was as put off by commoners as she claims, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?’’ Nikolai retorted, making you stop. ‘’If you lead a country, you must get better at hiding what you’re thinking,’’ Nikolai spoke. 

‘’I wasn’t sure,’’ You replied as you followed after him. ‘’I heard the whispers since I was a child,’’ He replied. ‘’I’ll deny it if you repeat it, but the truth is, I couldn’t care less if I have Lantsov blood, given all the royal inbreeding, I think the bastard is probably a point in my favor,’’

‘’It’s nice when you drop the act when you’re just yourself,’’ You remarked. ‘’Was that a compliment?’’ He asked with a smirk and you just rolled your eyes. ‘’Besides, I am a prince, Y/N,’’ He remarked. ‘’Being myself is a luxury I can’t often indulge in,’’ He answered.

‘’The throne is just a prize to Vasily, like some favorite toy,’’ You replied softly before turning to face him. ‘’You, however, care about Ravka,’’ You told him, making him smile. ‘’You’d make a good king,’’ You replied. ‘’Coming from you, it means a lot,’’ He murmured and you looked into his eyes. You could see the adoration in his eyes and it made you realize that you’d fallen for him. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him considering the circumstances and you tried hard not to, knowing that your plan would involve sacrificing yourself for Alina. Nikolai met your eyes as he saw sadness flashing through your eyes before changing them. 

You hesitantly reached for his hands and he noticed the hesitation on your face before accepting it. Your heart was beating harder when you felt his touch and it was soft-spoken. ‘’You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?’’ You remarked. Nikolai let out a laugh at the comment you made. 

The laugh, you thought for yourself. You stared at Nikolai with an unreadable expression on your face. It was the kind of laugh that you would bottle up and get drunk on the darkest nights. ‘’I’m already insufferable, love,’’ Nikolai retorted with a grin on his face. You chuckled as you felt him squeeze your hand before walking out to the room. 

You heard the classical music playing in the background while the massive crowd around you was chatting and drinking. ‘’I was not expecting this,’’ Nikolai murmured with the same surprise on his face. You looked around and tried to see Alina and Mal. ‘’Where’s Mal and Alina?’’ You asked him with concern. ‘’I know my company doesn’t account for much, but at least pretend to enjoy yourself,’’ Nikolai spoke. 

You gave him a look before scanning the room. ‘’I don’t see them,’’ You began to grow worried and Nikolai sensed it. ‘’Listen, I can assure you that the two of them are fine, maybe the two lovebirds are in a private room and doing saints know what,’’ You wrinkled your face in disgust before looking at him with a deadpanned expression. ‘’I did not want to hear that,’’ You muttered. ‘’After all, that gelatin deer gave its life for your entertainment,’’ Nikolai spoke and leaned to your ear. You turned your gaze and realized that he was so close to your lips and you yanked your head away from him. 

Nikolai smirked at your reaction. ‘’It’s not just like them, you know,’’ You murmured. ‘’They would be here with me, and well, watching us while teasing,’’ You remarked. ‘’You can’t fault them for being a little late,’’ Nikolai responded and looked at you. ‘’You can’t be worried about Alina and Mal, they can take care of themselves, you know?’’ Nikolai said and you sighed. ‘’I know, I’m just worried,’’ 

‘’Perhaps your loyal Sun Summoner and tracker don’t share your enthusiasm for your festivities,’’ You heard Vasily’s voice speak from behind you as you and Nikolai exchanged a look. ‘’If you excuse me, Moi Tsarevich,’’ You spoke as Nikolai nodded at you before you walked away. You sighed with frustration and walked around in the crowd trying to find Alina. However, you spotted Tamar speaking with Nadia. ‘’I guess I owe you the money,’’ You heard Tamar speak when she saw you approaching them. 

‘’What?’’ You questioned her. 

‘’We were all betting if you would choose the dress,’’ Nadia explained. ‘’Well, I guess you were wrong then,’’ You spoke and looked at Tamar. ‘’Have you seen Alina and Mal?’’ You asked Tamar with concern as Nadia went back for more champagne. ‘’Well-’’ 

‘’Y/N, have you seen Mal?’’ Alina interrupted you as you turned around. ‘’Saints, Alina, I was looking for you and Mal,’’ You replied before embracing her tightly. ‘’He’s probably late, you know,’’ Tamar spoke as she tried to assure you. You could feel that something was wrong but you tried to ignore the feeling. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Vasily speak. ‘’A toast!’’ You and Alina exchanged a look. ‘’I’d like to share some words about my brother, Nikolai,’’ Vasily spoke and pointed toward Nikolai. You narrowed your eyes. ‘’Yes, yes, we all know he’s pretentious,’’ He spoke and chuckled. ‘’Condescending, a man of the people…’’ 

You frowned when you felt a strange feeling. You could feel that something was wrong as you looked up at the ceiling glass with wonder. It was the same feeling that you felt when you and Aleksander had connected for the first time back at the Little Palace, but then you saw it. 

The shadows. ‘’Alina…’’ You spoke, making her turn to face you with confusion, and then, everything happened so fast that you didn’t have the time to react. ‘’Run!’’ You shouted at Alina when the Nichevo'ya appeared. People were screaming, several gunshots were heard and you hid behind a pole. 

You couldn’t think and you were terrified. Terrified of your own life, Nikolai, Mal, and Alina. You gasped when you saw the Nichevo'ya dragged Vasily in the air before tearing him apart. Alina used her magic as she tried to kill them but it was no use. ‘’Somebody, protect the Queen!’’ You heard one of them say. Nadia and Adrik used their powers against the Nichevo'ya and you tried to run toward Alina, however, the Nichevo'ya knocked them away. 

‘’Alina!’’ You shouted with fear and you froze in place when the Nichevo'ya turned to you. You widened your eyes as you felt your blood run cold. ‘’Y/N!’’ Alina shouted and you could see her eyes with terror when she saw the Nichevo'ya was coming for you. You felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, dragging away from Alina as Tamar and the others tried to protect her too. 

‘’Let me go! Alina!’’ You shouted. ‘’Y/N, we need to go, now!’’ Nikolai raised his voice as he tried to drag you away from there. ‘’Find Mal!’’ You tried to shout before you felt him drag you away from Alina.

-

please comment down below what you'd thought of this chapter and remember, reblogging always helps!

[lovelyd0gg]

Everything will be Okay.

Welcome back to Story Sunday, where I write a story about different Bob boys every Sunday if I'm not busy. So enjoy and relax<3

Summary: By the time war was coming to an end, Nixon hasn't been the same since, you, his fiancé want to help him feel better

Warnings: fluffers♡, mentions of war, blood, wounds your typical war stuff, mentions of suicide, swearing.

Going up to a person who's been in a war for six years now, isn't easy or pretty. Everything they've witnessed and all the horrible things the war has done to them affects them and their personalities change drastically. Some stay the same and some don't. Unfortunately, the war has changed your fiancé, Nixon. You were a nurse for Easy company so you worked with Eugene, Spina and a couple others, Nixon didn't mind, he trusted them enough that they wouldn't try to flirt with you. But, by 1945, the war was coming to an end, Nixon was so glad it was coming to an end, but with the amount of things he has seen and done, was it worth it?

You were trying to find Nixon but he was nowhere to be seen. You went up go a couple of the men there so you went to them to ask if they have seen him.

"Luz! You seen Nixon recently?"

"Ain't he downing another bottle of Vat 69 in his office or sumthing? Like usual?"

"Luz, that's not funny, you know he can't help it, he wants to stop but he can't!"

"Pfft... Yeah, and I wanna be a billionaire, but I can't!"

Luz was no luck...

You came to his office and noticed he had his feet up on the table and a bottle or two of Vat 69 just there and he was leaning in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't seem to notice you entered the room.

"Nix?"

There was no answer for about five seconds then he looked at you.

"Mmhh?"

"Are you alright?"

He took a swig from his bottle and sighed.

"Y/N, do you think it's worth it?"

"What is?"

"The war ending.. I took lives, I killed men, I killed some men who didn't want to be in the war. All for what? Hitler shooting himself?"

You looked down slightly, taking a seat in front of his desk.

"Well, I don't know.. It's war, you're supposed to kill the one that's against you, plus, the men that didn't want to be here, were forced anyways. You can't help them.."

"I know, I know, but it feels so shitty... All the blood and wounds.. God Y/N, the guts and organs everywhere, you come back from battling and someone's blood is sprayed all over your hands and face!"

You nodded slightly, you knew what he witnessed and it was downright messed up, he'd sometimes pay you visits with dried up blood all over his hands or face and he wouldn't have any scratches or anything! So you just figured it wasn't his blood.

"Hey, the war is almost over... Don't worry, after all of this we can all go home and live normally again--"

"But we can't, Y/N! Nobody can live the way they did before the war because we didn't have any traumatic experiences like all this shit! This alcohol is the only thing keeping me from offing myself right now!"

It hurt you that you weren't one or the only reason to keep him from killing himself.

"What about me..?"

"...You too, but the alcohol just wipes everything from my mind, so I can forget, you just take it away temporarily, y'know?"

"Hey, when the war is over, we can finally get married, right..? It isn't smart to just kill yourself now.. Or at all really, despite everything you've done or seen, it's over, and aren't you proud? That you went through all of that? And you're here? There's a lot of people who didn't make it here.."

"That's the fucking point! I feel so bad that the dead can't be here! By the time war started, I started off with so many friends...my brothers.. My band of brothers... And now look at it.. I've got so little left.."

You took his hand gently, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles.

"I know.. But you have to let it go, I know it's hard and you can't just *snap* poof, they're out of your memories, but you need to focus on the fact that you, yourself are alive and here.. After everything, and not everyone you know and care about it dead.. Yeah? I'm not dead, you're not dead, easy company isn't dead."

He looked into your eyes, your words made his heart ache.

"Y/N/N, how was I so lucky to get someone so kind and caring as you? Why did you choose an alcoholic like me? I'm pointless and you should be with someone better, someone who'll treat you right.."

"Because I have faith in you, Nixon.. I believe that you can quit drinking, and I would be there with you for the whole journey if you planned on quitting, it's not easy to quit, I know. But I will be with you for the whole way, everything is going to be okay, darling."

Before you could continue, he swiftly pulled you in a tight hug, hugging you like there was no tomorrow.

"I love you so fucking much.. You don't even know how much I care about you.."

You smiled and hugged him back, he wasn't as affectionate as he was before, but the small moments of affection nowadays, was just enough for you.

"I love you too, Nixon.. I'm so excited when we get married.."