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freesia-writes · 1 year

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OMFG!!! Congrats on the 500 sweetface!!! That's gotta feel amazing <3

For the prompt, could I possibly have #10 with Fives?

hehehe thanks so much friend! Heeeere you go! Also... these are getting LONGER... I'm concerned that by the time I get to #13 they're gonna be like 10k words, LOL. That being said, hopefully this is a delight! I never realized how nerve-wracking it could be to try to write for someone; you want it to be everything they ever dreamed of but you're a totally separate brain, with only one line to go off of! LOL. And it's so hard to end these! I want to write a whole novel off of each one. ;)

“You shouldn't be with him. You should be… with me." - Fives Word Count: 3.7k Content Warnings: None really Fives x GN!Reader with a boyfriend ;)

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It was arrival day, and you were already dreading the agenda that lay ahead of you. Two separate squads and their Venator-class cruisers were scheduled for a quick turnover, requiring immediate service, detailed repairs, and thorough inspection before being ready to go as quickly as possible. Somehow it felt as though it had been happening more often lately, and you were starting to wonder how many of these damn cruisers there were. Your team was starting to chafe against the longer hours and constant pressure, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel -- a few days off, provided there were no unscheduled arrivals that would throw the whole thing out the window.

The first cruiser docked with a whoosh, and the debarkation routine began. The previously-empty platform was suddenly swarming with mechanics, droids, shuttles, officers, and troopers, each headed in their own direction. Your boyfriend jostled your shoulder playfully as your crew headed for the ion engines, walking ahead of you to catch up with some other friends. You offered a feeble smile but weren’t quite sure what he was aiming for. Sometimes he treated you more like a “bro” than his girlfriend, except when he wanted… well… you know. But he had been kind and fun, taking you out to dinner and buying you things often, and while you could suggest quite a few ways you’d like to see things change, you didn’t want to be nit-picky.

You cleared the thoughts from your head as you saw a herd of troopers exiting the ship, a blur of white and blue indicating that it was none other than the 501st. Your face curled into an inexplicable mix of a grimace and a grin, scanning the familiar helmets out of habit. There it was… the tiniest flash of red, in a downward triangle right in the middle… And just like that, it took you back to that night, memories flashing across your mind to the rhythm of your footsteps as you continued distractedly toward the work that lay ahead.

Flashing lights, neon signs. Raucous voices, cheers, laughs. Good conversation, suggestive whispers, the effervescent warmth of liquor in your veins that fueled the anticipation of potential adventure and meaningless fun. The dark hair clenched between your fingers, the heavy breathing, the throes of passion and the gentle, intimate caresses afterward. That simple tattoo, a small 5, that you’d touched and kissed and fallen asleep against…

“Watch it!” A sharp voice broke you out of the replay, and you stumbled sideways as a couple of grumpy pilots made their way past. You could hear laughter up ahead, as your boyfriend and two others watched your distracted mishap. Flipping an obscene gesture their way, you pulled your bag higher up on your shoulder and hurried to catch up. Today was not the day to be daydreaming and dawdling.

What you didn’t see was the lone straggler behind the group of clones, now free of their helmets, exchanging quips and laughs as they headed toward their day of freedom. He shifted on his feet, holding his helmet at his hip, watching you scuttle toward the ship. His brow furrowed, a litany of expressions decorating his face, and he slowly turned to join his brothers, tearing his eyes from you and leaving them on the ground as he made his way to rest and refreshment.

The engines were a hot mess, requiring more than a few trips back to the supply station for some of the most abstract parts you’d ever heard of. What they were doing on this starship, you didn’t know, but they were definitely putting you through your paces when it came to maintaining it. You brushed the hair from your face, christening your forehead with grease, and smacked the maintenance panel shut with a huff. You were already late for lunch, and had skipped breakfast, and therefore were in an absolutely horrible mood.

The mess hall was fairly empty, most having finished their meals and cleared out by now. Your boyfriend had waited for you, surprisingly, chatting with some crewmates and beckoning you over when he caught sight of you with your tray. You slid onto the bench next to him, accepting his sloppy kiss and side hug as he finished the story he was telling, and promptly began stuffing your face with the most unexciting ration bar you’d ever touched. Most of the exciting stuff in the food line had been gone already by the time you went through, including the apples, which were one of your favorite things, even though they seemed plain.

“Whoa, easy girl, they’re not gonna run out of food!” came his playful taunt, and you elbowed him in the ribs in response. You’d initially loved the witty banter between the two of you, but sometimes the jabs had an edge, or didn’t quite land, and you were beginning to tire of it. Your complaints had been brushed off as being “overly-sensitive” or “not being able to take a joke”, so you let it slide, but you didn’t appreciate it quite so much anymore.

As the group of you headed back to the ship for hours of maintenance and inspection, a figure caught your eye on the side of the platform. A clone trooper, still in armor, was heading back toward the ship, scanning the herds of people bustling about their duties. You squinted, drawing closer, wondering why any of them would choose to be here when they had such little time off. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But as you both approached the maintenance hatch, you saw the helmet clearly.

“Fives?” you asked, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. After your [pretty darn awesome] little fling together, you had both enjoyed some conversations here and there, but it had been clear that there wasn’t really any future there… He was constantly being toted around the galaxy, and you… well, you were stuck here. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about it since, though… What it would be like if your lots in life were different. It had been a one-night stand, yes, but there had been substance in your discussion, intriguing glimmers of personality, and a depth, kindness, and intelligence that had really left an impression on you. “What are you doing here?” you continued, watching him turn toward you quickly at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hi. I… I thought I left something on the ship,” he began, pulling his helmet off to reveal those rich brown eyes and sharp features. You began to form a question as to why it would be in the maintenance sector, but he continued quickly, “But while you’re here…” The couple of crew members with you, including your boyfriend, were lingering in the doorway as well, watching the interaction. “They’re doing a crew appreciation thing at 79s tonight, and I just didn’t know if you… all… knew about it. Free snacks and cheap drinks for mechanics and whatnot…”

“That’s awesome,” you said warmly, catching his eye with your soft smile. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Yeah! You… all… deserve it, with all your hard work. Anyway… Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said, eyes roving across the group before he retreated into the expressionless safety of his helmet. He gave you one last nod before turning to head out. You snuck a glance over your shoulder as your team climbed onto the ship, noticing his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as he walked.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” your boyfriend muttered as you exited the taxi in front of 79s.

“Hey. I never get to choose what we do. You said you’d be a good sport. Plus -- free food!” you said enticingly, feeling disproportionately enthused as the neon lights and bumping bass met your senses.

“I know, but a clone bar? I don’t know… isn’t that kind of weird?” he whined, taking your hand begrudgingly as the two of you made your way in the door.

“Why would it be weird?” you said, voice getting louder so he could hear you over the music. But you never heard his reply as the raucous noise of the bar took over.

* * *

“Okay, ‘free snacks’ may have been a bit of an overstatement,” you chuckled, a few drinks and three bags of salty crackers later. The two of you had come to an uneasy truce, settling to play cards and watch the various interactions going on around you. There had been a few arguments, some decent arm wrestling matches, and a general spirit of joviality that was infectious. Well, to you, at least. The music shifted to something right up your alley, and you rose to your feet, holding a hand out. Your boyfriend took it, with the tiniest of eye rolls, and followed you downstairs to the dance floor, making a quick swerve last minute to order two shots at the bar. You laughed, reaching a hand out, but he gulped one down, and then the other, to your shock and slight disappointment.

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you back toward the dancers. It was an improvement to his mood, at least, though you’d be talking about the rudeness of the act later, for sure. The dance floor was particularly full tonight; a number of ships had reported back to Coruscant at once, making for a diverse and colorful crowd. That familiar warm, tingly feeling was flowing through your veins and you smiled, letting the music fill your mind and flow through your body.

* * *

“Yoo hoo!” came the taunting call as Jesse waved his hand in front of Fives’ face. “Did you seriously just drift off mid-sentence? Man, that clanker must have hit your head harder than we thought, eh Kix?”

“That brain was damaged long before that,” Kix answered, running a hand over his closely-shaved hair and intricate skull tattoos. Jesse’s laughter was joined by Hardcase and Echo, who were reclining in the large booth with the rest of their brothers.

“Sorry -- got distracted,” Fives muttered, shaking his head and looking back to his squad. The conversation continued, with quips and jabs, as well as heroic tales that expanded each time they were told, but he couldn’t stop glancing off to the side. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor, appearing between the bodies all around you and then disappearing again into the crowd. There was a funny clenching feeling in his chest, as he remembered the scent of your hair, the darkness of your eyes, and the little gasp that had accompanied the way you moaned his name… Suddenly there was a funny feeling under his codpiece as well, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on whatever joke Hardcase was completely botching at the moment.

The dance floor cleared a little bit, giving him an unobstructed view of you, though he wasn’t sure if it were an improvement or not. Your boyfriend had decided that now was as good a time as any to try to grind on your backside like an adolescent horn dog, and you kept trying to shift to a more natural and fun way of dancing together but he was persistent. And getting a bit gropey. Finally, you gave up, and Fives watched as you left the dance floor, stalking to the refresher in a huff. The boyfriend slumped over to the other end of the bar, toppling onto a stool and waving to the bartender.

“Be right back,” Fives said, scooting out the side of the booth. “Refresher,” he muttered in response to the questioning glances, and was quickly forgotten as he edged down the packed hallway. He lurked awkwardly outside the doors for a few minutes, wishing he’d come up with a better plan, when you finally reappeared, sending a little jolt of energy down his spine.

“You made it!” he said with a clearly forced brightness, startling you out of your rumination.

“Yeah,” you answered, any joy at seeing him dulled by the disappointment of how it was all going.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head with apparent concern on his face. The way the hair on his chin accentuated the expression was adorable, and his interest lifted your spirits a little.

“Sorry, yeah,” you answered, getting jostled to the side of the hallway as a group went past. “Long day at work, regular life troubles, you know. Nothing crazy like the stuff you have to face.”

“Hm. From what I hear, getting shot at might be preferable to that sometimes,” Fives muttered, arching an eyebrow with a little sparkle in his eye. That got a genuine laugh out of you, which changed the whole mood of the interaction immediately.

“What is TAKING you so long?” came a belligerent voice, as “boyfriend” came staggering up behind Fives. “This guy bothering you?” he asked, jabbing a thumb at Fives, who wrinkled his nose in disdain at the pathetic creature next to him.

“No, we were just chatting,” you said quickly, noting the edge of the voice and the clumsy movements. He clearly didn’t recognize Fives, despite him having been the one to invite you here, a detail that was not lost on the clone, who gave you a look that couldn’t have been more plain -- really?

“Alright, well let’s go,” said the boyfriend, who wasn’t worth even giving a name, and he reached for your hand, giving it a sharp tug, which pulled you right across Fives, who found a sudden urge to grab you right back and tell this little womp rat to scurry off into a hole somewhere. You paused for a moment, turning back to face Fives, whose intense gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks for thinking of us,” you said, giving one last smile before being whisked toward the door.

* * *

The next day was not going well. You hadn’t slept much at all, tossing and turning with all kinds of thoughts and considerations that kept you from any sort of real rest. The boyfriend seemed to be in a crappy state as well, rubbing his head and squinting at the bright light as he worked next to you. There was a distinct tension building between the two of you, and you knew it was going to come to a head. It would be good, because there were things that needed to be said and addressed and changed and dealt with, but you weren’t one to look forward to conflict. Neither was he, so the two of you puttered about your mechanical duties until it was about lunchtime, when you set your wrench down with the intention of getting to the mess hall on time for once.

Alas, fate was not on your side. The walk between the shipyard and the cafeteria was just enough time to get into a huge fight with your boyfriend about last night, which ballooned to include topics like drinking, respect, joking, autonomy, and all sorts of other things. It was a hot mess, and while you tried to keep it civil, you were both tired, frustrated, and clearly triggered. By the time you got to the mess hall, it had reached the breaking point, and you turned to flee for solitude, tears streaming down your face, as he yelled criticisms after you, much to the surprise of quite a few onlookers.

You found a supply closet, smashing your hand on the keypad so the door would whoosh closed behind you, silently cursing the fact that you couldn’t slam it. You threw an arm up against the wall, resting your forehead against it and burying your face in the cool grey metal, surrounded by shelves and the whirring fans of the ventilation ducts above your head. You wanted to cry, but now you couldn’t, which somehow made you feel even worse. There were so many emotions, it was impossible to sort them out. You were frustrated with the situation, angry at yourself for tolerating so much, confused why there couldn’t be a middle ground, and despair at the aching pain of yet another failed relationship. Or had it failed? You felt sick to your stomach at the thought that, knowing you, it might just get patched up and continued, with hopes that this time it would be different. Were you really so stupid?

The door slid open, and you flattened against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would find their supplies and leave without even noticing you were there. But when it closed, and no footsteps were heard, you shifted slightly to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone had come in at all. To your surprise, a fully-armored clone stood just inside the door, ducking his head to peer through the many shelves that lined the walls, making the rather large closet feel incredibly small and claustrophobic.

“Fives?” you said in disbelief, leaning out from the shelves you’d crammed yourself between.

He let a single curse word fly as he jumped to the side, knocking over a stand full of brooms and mops, sending them all clattering to the ground as he frantically tried to regain his footing. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling as though you’d already emptied yourself of all the crying and anger and pain. He stood tall, righting his crooked helmet, and cleared his throat, staring at you from within the helmet.

“You scared the kriff out of me,” he said, modulated voice still sounding a bit shaky.

“Sorry?” you answered, having no idea how to go about this conversation with all that had transpired. “Why are you coming in a supply closet?”

“I heard you…” he said quietly, pulling his helmet off now and setting it on a shelf nearby. “I wanted to see if… if everything was alright.” His face was earnest, but there was a nervousness to his gaze and stance.

“Ugh,” came your ashamed response at the spectacle you’d provided in the halls. “It’s fine. Or it will be. I don’t know. This isn’t really how I usually am…” Why were you explaining yourself to him? Perhaps it was because he was the first person to seem to truly listen to you and care about you in a while. Perhaps you felt a need to justify yourself. Or perhaps you were still just reeling from it all.

“And how are you, usually?” he asked, taking a step closer and leaning against the shelf next to you. “You seemed quite a bit more lighthearted when we…” he drifted off, grasping his hands together.

“It’s just been a long week,” you offered, shrugging it off.

“Are you happy?” he said suddenly, with a confidence that came out of nowhere. His chin lifted slightly as he regarded you. “I know we didn’t know each other very long, but in what time we did have together, it was clear that you are incredibly intelligent, witty, and fun. In more ways than one,” he added, hoping the insinuation would bring some levity. It did bring a tiny smirk to your face, as you wiped some leftover tears from one eye, thinking about the slightly adventurous escapade you’d enjoyed. But it was quickly overwhelmed by confusion at his words.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I… I didn’t just forget about you, you know,” he said, swallowing and pausing for a moment. “I figured you weren’t interested in anything else, and I was shipped off…”

“And now you’re back to judge my choices?” you snapped, shocked at your own vehemence. Clearly, you’d been on your last straw… about six straws ago… He straightened in surprise, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No! I just…” he stopped again, lowering his hands slowly and taking a deep breath before speaking in a quiet, solid voice.

“You shouldn’t be with him. You should be… with me.”

His amber eyes were locked on yours, simultaneously intense and kind, confident and vulnerable. You were reeling at his words, mouth slightly open. You were sorry for your sharpness, sorry for your assumptions… And sorry for your choices as well. The way he put himself out there had a wildly disarming effect on you, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he say something like that when you were clearly a mess?

He closed the space between you, slowly approaching with tentative caution, and lifted a hand to your face. His hands were rough yet gentle as he cupped your cheek, eyes growing larger as he took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’ll respect your choices, always. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and seeing you here… seeing the way he treats you… I just… I had to say something.”

You searched for the right words to say, but could find none, instead closing your eyes and nestling into his warm hand. A single tear squeezed out and rolled down your cheek, falling to your shoulder in silence. He continued, voice softer now, “I know I don’t have anything to offer you… no stability, no future, nothing. But you deserve better than… that… at least… And I’d like to do my best… while I can.”

You lifted your hand to his, pressing into it as though you could communicate your overwhelming emotions through a single touch. A small smile curved the corner of your lips, and you felt a sudden freedom at the prospect stretching out before you. Opening your eyes, you felt as though your chest would explode as you saw his face, so close to yours, so earnest in his affection and admittance, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, grateful, hopeful kiss. His sharp inhale was quickly followed by the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against the shelf behind. When you finally came up for air, you leaned your forehead against his, a thousand questions held back by the simple savoring of the moment.

“Fives,” you whispered, and his heart leapt at the way you said his name, “I’m a mess.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in again, lips brushing yours as he answered, “Well I’d love it if you’d be my mess.”

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