#sevfika

[ahsokahearteyes]

every sev/fi exchange in triple zero

[imrowanartist]

Post Order 66 smooch with Sev and Fi for @itsstrangelypermanent <3

[countessofbiscuit]

Sev jerked. He wanted to bomb-burst out of his body to make the thoughts stop. 

Fi had been blown up. Paralyzed, lights-out. Sure, Omega was only standing by for shit to get stupid on Gaftikar, and it may have been a friendly splash, but Fi had still been a casevaced casualty. No time wasted, every flight profile and reluctant med-droid pushed to get Fi priority care. Some civvies even stuck their necks out for him. 

Sev had just been overwhelmed by a bunch of bugs and left for dead. 

And now he couldn’t even get out of his own head.

. . . . .

A drabble from All Holed Up, an older post-Kashyyyk character study

[kungfuslipper]

Fic prompt: Fi’s frown

At long last! Thank you for this precious prompt. :3

Undisciplined

Sev/Fi, 650 words, Teen+, Post-O66, Mandalore, established relationship

Sev set his partially disassembled DC-17m on the counter-top with a clunk.

A moment ago there’d been a sigh resonant enough to wake his youngest batch of brothers 60,000 light years away on Kamino. It had come from between the couch cushions (Someone had placed an antiquated, aromatic, manka-hide couch in the armory — Sev knew it was Vau’s, the same way he knew something thoroughly normal had just occurred.)

A few paces away, Fi had sunk as far as was possible for a well-muscled, domesticated, former commando — into the couch, and his brows had sunk further over his eyes than Sev thought possible. For Fi.

Omega’s sniper appeared to be sulking. 

Fi lived a lavish a life, Sev thought privately, never lacking for food or laughter or company. Or a hard day’s work at his own pace. Or civvie anything and everything. And yet, here was this demonstration of acute forlornness. Sev sighed his own small sigh, a barely discernible exhale through his nostrils, and thumbed his blaster regretfully. 

Whateveritwas tugged him over to the couch where he stopped, shin to shin with Fi, work boots crowding designer sneakers, coveralls crackling as he spread his legs in a standing straddle over Fi’s knees. Sev crossed his arms, and Fi promptly dropped his head against them, as if the surly shelf were a specially proffered pillow. 

“What?” said Sev.

A funny, moany noise came out of Fi, partially muffled by Sev’s arms, which he then uncrossed and folded around Fi’s head and neck. 

“What?” Sev repeated, to Fi's black curls.

“Ingrid Irunen’s performing at the Kallarak.”

Oh.

Sev sighed, resigned. Fi’d been talking of nothing but his favorite Glimmick vocalist recently. She had a three-octave range, and based on the sized of her voice, you’d never guess how petite she actually was.

Obviously Fi had never had the chance to see her in person. There would be a sold out concert on Coruscant in five days — now — 

“Quit griping then and go watch the live feed.”

“Mmmph.”

Unconvinced, Fi remained inert against Sev’s chest. Seconds ticked by, and the longer they held, the warmer Sev grew with Fi’s cheek resting on his sternum, ear against his thrumming ventricles. His thighs squeezed Fi’s tight, blood pooling cheerfully between his hips despite the joyless mood. His line of sight curved over Fi’s back, down to the visible waistband of Fi’s skivvies: a tease just out of reach.

But Fi’s face wasn’t, and this would definitely work to lighten him up. 

Sev slid both his hands rather un-gently through Fi’s hair, pulled his head back, locked eyes long enough to read something like gods yes please you dickwad, and kissed him longer than was really appropriate given their location — Vau’s old couch in the armory at Kyrimorut, on Mandalore in the middle of a violent regime change. 

Sev knew, judging by the way Fi melted every time, that he was a good kisser. It was a consolation. Sev felt quite lucky, actually, for a deserter clone. Abandoned by the system which had produced him. Collected by what — who — made his heart beat. 

Presently, though he didn’t want to, he released Fi’s face, now aglow with renewed vigor twinkling in his eyes and the corners of his mouth. 

“Alright, I’m off," Fi declared. "You’re right. Mereel’s probably got the feed up and running.”

Sev had succeeded in kissing the melancholy right out of him, apparently; enthusiasm had welled up from some mysterious store. Sev's crotch twitched painfully. He’d watch the show too, if only to herd Fi somewhere intensely private afterwards.

Fi seemed to pick up on this — he swatted playfully between Sev’s legs, just hard enough to jolt out a soft groan. 

“Love you,” Fi murmured, withdrawing his hand. 

shab. 

Sev followed Fi dutifully out of the armory, cringing about his blaster. It lay abandoned on the counter until tomorrow morning. What a shabby excuse for disciplined he had become.

[imrowanartist]

"What is taking them so long?" Fi groans for the umpteenth time as he shifts positions again and 'accidentally' bumps his shoulder into Sev sitting next to him.

"I'm sure they'll be done soon." Sev grunts, and Fi pretends not to notice that he doesn't actually move away. That he hasn't done that in a while actually.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about that time we went to Kessel?" Fi says instead, and tries to hide his glee at Sev's dramatic sigh, "There were like, pirates and explosions and-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Sev interrupts him, his voice almost a growl.

"I'm chatty, it's part of my charm."

"It's annoying. That's what it is."

"Then why don't you kiss me, you di'kut, and make me shut up." Fi blurts out and feels his ears turn red at his unexpected confession. Next to him he feels Sev stiffen.

There's a heavy silence that seems to drag on forever and Fi fears that maybe this time he has screwed things up beyond repair. Its not mutual after all, these feelings he's been having-

When suddenly Sev turns towards him and grabs his chin, pulling him close and smashing their lips together with a surprisingly gentle motion. Fi freezes for a moment, then lets himself melt into it, savouring the soft feel of Sev's lips.

Guess he wasn't wrong then.

Far too quickly Sev pulls away, his ears now burning too. Then he gets up and stomps out the door, his shoulders hunched up high.

Fi watches him go, though he can’t help the silly little grin that spreads on his face.

Sev and Fi hold my heart thank you very much

Also thank you @anstarwar for letting me use your designs for them

[countessofbiscuit]

"Well, you're gonna have to put up with me anyway," Fi grinned, slinging his arms around Sev. "I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever."

from Insulation by KungFu_Slippers ❤️‍🔥💦🫶🏼

an art inspired by the latest from the masterful @kungfuslipper — i cannot better convey my thanks and appreciation!

[countessofbiscuit]

how Sev and Fi went down in the Delt-O group chat

(x)

[countessofbiscuit]

“Hey, Sev...”

Fi, apparently bored of the simcas exercise he volunteered them for, had sniper-crawled from the demarcated critical blast radius to slump on the mats next to Sev.

“You’re supposed to be dying,” Sev reminded him. “Over there.”

But Fi had a theme between his teeth. “Did you ever hear what happened to Zeta squad?”

Sev looked at Fi. Zeta. The name took a few moments to scan. Zeta was Fi’s first batch. They’d snuffed it on Geonosis, leaving Fi the last of his litter.

No, no, no, Sev thought, panic rising. Don’t come bleeding out all over me...

. . . . 

in which i continue dripping out Render Safe in a series of drabbles