#literally he's asking 'how old are you' but it comes across more as the former

[amphibifish]

it's kind of hard to parse but i think heimdallr basically being like "WHAT ARE YOU A CHILD???" to frey

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 4 - Build

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Me again! We’re back. Sorry I know I keep adding new parts but I’ve broken up the final chapter into two as it just keep going and this is a huge bumper one (sorry). I promise there genuinely will only be one more looool. Thanks again for all of your reblogs/comments/love for this story, it means a lot!!

💔

Lou had welcomed you back with open arms, fixing you up with a waitress job at the diner. Of course he had. Lou was like the father you’d never had. His love was one of the few constants in your life.

Mercifully, he didn’t ask you much about Bucky, didn’t chastise you for making a bad choice and getting involved with a mob boss. That wasn’t what Lou was about. He knew that ‘I told you so’ served no purpose, he knew that you were a big girl and there was nothing he could tell you that you didn’t already know yourself. So why bother? All that mattered was that you were here, and you needed him. He would always catch you when you fell.

Going back to waitressing didn’t feel like you’d taken a step back or that you’d somehow failed, if anything it was quite nice to see this former version of your life once more. And you’d missed chatting with the regulars, helping Lou with the accounts, occasionally fighting small fires (both metaphorical and very occasionally, literal). With Bucky you didn’t need to work, which was nice in one way, but you’d missed the structure and purpose your old job had given you. You previously had no interest in daily gossipy lunches with the other mob wives, and there was only so much shopping you could do.

“How did we ever cope without you?” Lou had asked one morning after you’d successfully chased and caught a dine and dasher, and saved hundreds of dollars on the power bill after negotiating a new contract. All before 10am.

You grinned, “I feel the same way about this place”.

You had moved in with Wanda, she had insisted - despite your protests. She and her boyfriend, Vis, gave you the spare room and said you could stay until you got back on your feet. It was small and full of all the extra stuff they couldn’t fit elsewhere in their apartment, but you didn’t care. You would’ve been happy with the couch, or a sleeping bag on the floor.

Nat was equally helpful, sorting you out by buying new clothes and shoes in your size and giving you some of the toiletries and make-up she didn’t use. She even cut and restyled your hair (‘because hair holds memories’, she told you) and took on whichever role you needed. Sometimes that was nights on her couch crying as she held you, other times it was hitting up the bars and trying to forget. She did it all. She had come and got you that morning at the hotel, after you sent her a frantic message from the rickety computer explaining what had happened. She told you she’d be there in 30 minutes…but ended up doing the trip in 20.

One afternoon a week or so later, Bucky’s men radioed him to let them know that there was a redhead in a Mercedes at the front gates demanding to speak to him. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d sighed as he saw her familiar face on the security monitor and told them to let her in. He knew this day would come. He dismissed them, they didn’t need to be here for this.

Nat had parked up and casually exited the car, strolling across the patio as Bucky stood in the doorway and waited for the inevitable. She didn’t keep him waiting long, slugging him across the jaw with a sharp ‘thwack’ causing him to stagger back against the doorframe.

“Got it. Anything else to say?” he groaned.

She nodded and then kneed him hard in the groin, turning on her heel as she left him in a crumpled heap and ambled back to her car.

“I warned you this would happen if you hurt her”, she called out calmly without looking back.

“Always good to see you, Nat”, Bucky managed to eke out as she slammed the car door.

The generosity of them all was overwhelming, you knew how lucky you were. It’s often said that you don’t know who your true friends are until you fall on hard times, and your friends had proved themselves tenfold. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay their kindness.

💔

It had been about six weeks since the night at the hotel when he started coming to the diner. No goons or hangers-on, just him. Which was almost unheard of, given his position.

The first time was a Friday morning, around 9am. He sat in the corner booth, head buried in the menu.

“I can kick him out, hon’, I’m not scared of him”, Lou had snarled as he glared over at the man in the booth.

“It’s okay, Lou. I can handle him,” you told him gently, giving his arm a reassuring stroke.

You took a deep breath as you approached his table. You couldn’t see his face, just his hands, an eerie mirror of the first time you’d met.

“What can I get you?” you asked as you readied your pad and pen, your voice surprisingly even, in spite your stomach’s somersaults.

He lowered the menu slowly and you couldn’t deny it was good to see him again. His blue eyes shone, the former dusting of stubble over his chin and jawline now a fuller beard - just as tantalising as it had always been. A few strands of his hair had come away from the carefully styled gel, framing his face perfectly. Some of your former anger towards him bubbled away beneath the surface, but you couldn’t deny you had also missed him. You had loved him, after all.

The two of you shared a knowing smile.

“You know there are like…hundreds of other breakfast places in this city, right?” you teased, but half-serious.

“I do…but this is the only one that gets my eggs just right,” he grinned back.

“Mmm. I’ll pass your compliments onto the chef. You still want the usual?”

“Please”.

You scribbled down the familiar order onto the page. It felt strange to write it down again, it had been a long time since you’d done that for him.

“Are you going to behave?” you questioned, arms folded.

“Mostly”.

“You’d better. Lou will have your ass if you don’t” you scoffed.

“I don’t doubt it”.

“And Bucky, if you’re here to-” you began, your face betraying the pain that still lurked within you.

“I’m not”, he cut you off. “Just breakfast. I promise”.

You nodded, pressing your lips together with trepidation. The two of you watched the other for a few seconds.

“Well, okay, that’ll be right out”.

You turned and put his order into the kitchen. You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching.

“Here you go”.

You returned to the booth a little later, laying out the plates and re-filling his coffee, he thanked you and pulled a napkin from the dispenser.

“I like your new hair”, he said as he began to cut up his food, his eyes not leaving the table.

“Thanks. I like your new beard”.

“Thanks. Business going okay here?”

“Doing well. Yours?”

“Same old, same old…”

“And…Rumlow?” you asked, your throat catching a little as you said his name.

“Terminated” he replied coldly as he took a sip of coffee.

“Yes…I presumed so. HYDRA?”

“I finally cut off all of those heads”.

“I hope you mean metaphorically”.

“Mostly. The girls good? Vis?”

“All good. Steve? Sam?”

“Also good”.

“Good”.

“Good”.

“Well…good to catch up. Let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy”.

“Thanks”.

You waited for some big trick or reveal, but it never came. He ate his meal, drank another coffee refill, paid the bill, tipped, and left within the hour. Like any other customer. Lou was sceptical, and so were you – but there nothing to suggest it was anything else but breakfast…like he said.

And that’s how it was every Friday after that. He’d come in at 9am on the dot, sit in the same booth. Order the usual. You were always his waitress. Everything was the same, every week. The other regulars knew to avoid sitting at his table at that time. The other servers would barely bat an eyelid as he strolled in, taking for granted that you’d be along shortly to put his order in – even if he wasn’t in your section that morning. And it was…fine. He didn’t try and do anything more, didn’t ask you to meet anywhere or for a chance to talk. You initially thought it would be hard to see him again, but it was okay. Maybe a future where the two of you just pleasantly co-existed was possible.

The two of you would chat. Just small talk at first. Occasionally a joke. Even Lou would chat to him sometimes, he was still wary of Bucky but more open to him than he was previously. He certainly didn’t mind him spending money in his restaurant.

Weeks soon became months. Seasons changed. Still, he came in every week, rain or shine. Plates and plates of eggs eaten; endless coffee mugs refilled. He didn’t ever skip it, he was never sick, never seemed to take vacations. He showed up every time. Even if you weren’t there.

The small talk eventually evolved, so slowly you barely noticed it happen. You chatted more about the old times, memories started to feel fonder rather than sad reminders of what was lost. He told you anecdotes about Steve and Sam. You told him about Wanda and Vis, about Nat. You laughed uproariously one morning over the story of Sam’s disastrous vacation involving a mistaken suitcase and an overzealous TSA agent. It was nice to just sit and talk with him, just be with him. No expectations or obligations. You hadn’t forgiven him. You weren’t sure you ever could. But you had missed him. And seeing him for an hour every week, on your turf, just shooting the breeze – that was nice.

“So, you seeing anyone?” you asked one morning as you sat across from him in the booth and sipped your drink, your break coinciding with the end of his meal. You weren’t sure where it came from, but it popped out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. The curiosity was eating you alive. You seemed to talk about everything apart from his love life.

He firmly shook his head, “nope”.

You frowned. “Really? When was the last time you went on a date?”

“With you,” he replied in that no-nonsense tone of his.

You cocked your head, peering over at him in disbelief.

“But Bucky…”

“What? I’m not interested in anyone else”.

“But we’re not together. And it’s been months”.

“I know”, he replied stoically as he sipped his coffee. His eyes seemed to be studying you.

“And we’re not getting back together…”

“I know”.

“But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, but I-I don’t like this. It feels like a ploy, somehow. To push me into taking you back” you stammered, your finger dancing on the rim of your mug.

“It’s not. It’s just a fact. I didn’t even bring it up, you did”.

He was frustratingly calm and unperturbed, finishing his breakfast like this was just some casual conversation about the weather or a movie he’d seen.

“So…what, you’re never gonna date anyone again? Is that it?” you scowled.

He shrugged, “I never said that. It’s just not something I’m looking to do right now. Work is taking up most of my time. Plus, I’m in therapy, working through a few things. I’d rather be in a better place before I start dating again. Learn from my past mistakes”.

“Oh…” you responded in surprise, “well…that’s very mature of you. And is it…helpful?”

“Mmm, pretty eye opening,” he nodded as he took another sip of his coffee, “I’d recommend it to anyone,” he looked at you pointedly.

You felt the heat at your cheeks, perfectly aware that he was suggesting you do the same. And he was probably right. But you didn’t like the potential to appear vulnerable in front of him, so you merely shrugged and went back to rubbing your coffee cup. You were genuinely pleased for him…it was just unfortunate that your break-up was the catalyst. You felt a wave of grief roll through you.

You paused for just a beat, again unable to stop your word vomit.

“Are you gonna ask if I’m seeing anyone?”

“No”.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of my business. You can date whoever you want”, he shrugged, keeping his attention on his plate.

You frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. I just want you to be happy, doll”.

“Bullshit!” you scoffed, “you once picked a man up by his ankles and dipped his head in the toilet because he grabbed my ass at that party…”

“Well, that was deserved. And I didn’t flush it on him, so he got off easy…”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him across the table. “Buck…I know you. What’s your game, here?”

He sighed heavily, taking a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. His eyes finally moved up from his plate to meet yours. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just like being with you? In whatever form I can? That maybe I’m happy just getting this time with you every week, no matter what happens between us?”

“And that’s enough for you?” you asked incredulously.

He shifted in his seat, his tone suddenly very serious.

“Look, doll. I’m always going to love you. And I’m always going to be honest with you. If you turned around tomorrow and you told me you wanted to give things another shot – sure, I’d bite your hand off to accept. But I live in the real world. And I know you aren’t likely to forgive me for what I did, and that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. I’m just happy to have you in my life in some way, even if that’s just talking to you every Friday while I have my breakfast”.

You blinked back at him, unsure whether to take him at his word or if this was some manipulation tactic. The word ‘love’ echoed in your ears, and you had to shake it off that he said he still felt that way about you. Maybe this was all some trick. You knew you couldn’t trust him anymore.

But as you looked into his eyes, for a moment his sentiment felt…genuine. Real. Maybe he was telling the truth.

“Fine”, you sighed as you took a sip from your cup, “I get paid to be here either way…”

💔

A few more months passed, it had been nearly a year since the break-up. Bucky remained a weekly customer but nothing else. You’d finally moved out of Wanda’s into your own place – a shitty, cramped studio apartment was the best you could do on a waitress wage and tips – but it was yours. It had been such a long time since you’d had your own space, you loved every meagre inch.

You'd also started therapy, to help get your head around your childhood and abandonment issues - to help understand why you were always ready to run and expect everything to collapse. Bucky was right, it was valuable - if not hard going. But you knew it was helping, even though nothing could be 'fixed' overnight.

You still visited Wanda and Vis regularly. In fact, you were over there laughing with Wanda and making an early dinner when you got the call that Friday evening. She knew something terrible had happened from the way your face fell, your eyes widening with shock as you listened to the voice on the other end telling you whatever horror story it was. Seconds later you were rushing out of the front door and trying to wrangle on your coat and grab your bag, as she called out to you in a panic just steps behind.

“It was a massive heart attack,” the doctor had said as she eyed the clipboard in front of her. “He was lucky that a passerby on the street called an ambulance, if he’d been alone…he may not have been able to call himself, and if it had been too late…”

You had not been at the hospital long, sweating and panting in your rush to get down there. Your head fuzzy, unable to fully take in what you’d been told. The doctor was still talking, her voice an unidentifiable drone in your ears as you concentrated all your efforts on staying upright. You tugged off your coat, suddenly far too hot. The hospital felt like a furnace, suffocating and stifling. You were dizzy, everything felt blurred.

A couple of chairs sat a few feet away along the sterile-looking hallway, you plopped down into one and put your head in your hands.

“Can she see him?” Wanda asked the doctor, her hands patting your shoulders supportively.

“He’s stable, but the team are just doing some observations on him. Plus, he needs to rest, and might be feeling groggy after the meds. He’ll be out for a good while. It might take some time to be conscious and lucid again, so-”

“I’ll wait,” you said defiantly, the first time you’d spoken since you got there. “However long it takes”.

“Yes, I understand. And you’re his…friend?”

“Daughter,” you corrected. “I’m Lou’s daughter. Well…good as. He doesn’t have any other family. Neither of us do…”

The doctor nodded kindly, pointing out the coffee machine across the hall and leaving you to it.

💔

Wanda waited with you for a while, but she had a work event that night. She insisted she’d stay but you waved her off, telling her you’d check in with her later. She’d been planning that event for months. Lou would be mad at her for missing it, let alone over him. And you meant it, you didn’t want her missing it because of you.

So, she left. Leaving you by yourself in the hard chair with the plastic cup of lukewarm motor oil masquerading as coffee. Nat was out in the Bahamas with some hottie for the week, and you didn’t really want to bother Vis, so you sat quietly alone. You kept sane by reminding yourself that Lou was stable, and his prognosis looked good. He would be okay. He would. He’s made of strong stuff.

Another hour went by, and you couldn’t help your tears from falling as you began to work yourself up worrying, exacerbated by the fact you hadn’t eaten and had nobody around to stop you from spiralling. Wanda had sent a few texts, but you knew she was busy and didn’t need you distracting her. You just wished you had someone to talk to. Or not even talk to, just be with. You squeezed your phone in your hands as if willing the idea that someone would suddenly call you out of the blue. A friend you’d forgotten, a long-lost family member. But there was nobody.

Well, almost nobody.

You pulled your purse onto your lap and dug through, retrieving your wallet at the bottom. You opened it up and checked each card holder until you found what you were searching for, slightly worn and torn tucked behind the library card you barely used, but the details still clear as day.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

Director of 107 Inc.

You had scooped up the card after he left it in the hotel room. It was a bit of a split decision, you’d nearly tossed it in the trash but changed your mind at the last second and jammed it into your wallet, not really thinking about why. You hadn’t looked at it since, you’d never transferred his number into your phone, or even spoken to him outside of Fridays at the diner. But he had become something of a friend over the last few months, and you were surprised to find yourself looking forward to seeing him every week. It was as if you’d gotten to know each other again from scratch, a slow-burn friendship grown over time – the complete opposite of your initial whirlwind relationship, where heat had won out over foundations. But now, you felt you knew him differently. It was funny how you get to know somebody without the chemistry and physical attraction fogging up your brain.

Was this stupid? Were you asking for trouble? But…it would be nice to talk to someone. Just a phone call, nothing more. You took a deep breath and punched the numbers into the keypad before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Hello?” came his gruff voice in your year after two rings.

You sat upright, surprised he had even answered at all – let alone so fast. You hadn’t really thought about what you were going to say.

“Hey, Buck, I…” you squeaked, unable to mask the emotion in your voice.

“Doll?” his voice immediately softened, “what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…well, no, actually. I’m at Mount Sinai…uh…Lou-uh, Lou had a big heart attack and I’m at the hospital and hesreallysickandI-I…”

You sobbed, your words melting into one as the pain of saying them out loud hit home, “I’m sorry I…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Take a moment for me, alright? Take a deep breath doll…”

You closed your eyes, inhaling and exhaling, blowing the air out of your lips like he said. You did it a few times, feeling slightly better afterwards,

“Good, that’s good,” Bucky told you. “Are you by yourself? Are Wanda and Nat there with you?”

“No…Wanda is working, Nat’s away. It’s fine…I just…”

“I’m so sorry about Lou, doll”, he said tenderly. “Do you want me to come down there?”

“No…no…it’s okay…I just. I just wanna talk,” you replied, wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“Yeah…yeah, we can do that. What shall we talk about?”

You sighed, “I don’t know. Anything. Anything that isn’t hospitals or heart attacks…or food. Because I haven’t eaten and I’m starving.”

“Alright. Hmm. Well…I had to break up a fight between Thor and Scott today, if that helps distract you…”

“What? But Thor is twice Scott’s size. That was mean of him…”

“No…Scott started it. Said Thor was mouthing off about something or other and it all blew up. Scott swung for him”.

��What?? Is he insane?” you practically shrieked, the beginnings of a giggle forming in your throat as you tried to imagine Scott trying to land a punch as Thor towered above him.

“I guess so. But they worked it out. Last time I saw them they were laughing, and Thor was swinging him from his shoulders”.

You laughed. A proper, deep belly laugh. It felt good. Cathartic. You could practically see some of the tension leave your body.

“Well, I’m glad they figured it out. What else did you do today, Buck?”

“Hm. Not a lot. Mostly work. I went to the park. Just to get some air. Went to that duck pond you like and sat on the bench for a while”.

You smiled, “I love that pond”.

“I know. Remember that time you nearly fell in trying to help that duckling trapped in the weeds?”

“I do. I remember that you had to catch me and I accidentally splashed pondwater on your suit as I stumbled…” you laughed fondly.

“Not the worst thing I’ve had my dry cleaner remove for me. And we got the duckling back to its mom, even if she was furious at us”.

“She tried to bite you…”

“She succeeded”.

You both chuckled for a moment as you reminisced, then it suddenly went quiet between you both. You held the phone tightly to your ear, unsure and a little lost for words. It felt odd to feel tongue-tied around Bucky, it had always been so easy to know what to say to him. Despite how easy it was to slip back into nostalgia just now, and your newfound friendship, there was still something of a gulf between the two of you. You had been apart for so long now.

“…thanks, Buck,” you whispered.

“Anytime, doll”.

💔

After you hung up with Bucky, a nurse came over and you shot up out of your chair with anticipation. She told you that Lou was doing well but was slowly coming around after a heavy sedative. He should be ready for visitors in another hour or so. You sighed heavily but nodded grimly, as long as Lou was alright – that was all that mattered.

You sank back into your faithful chair, pulling out your rapidly dying phone again and wishing you had the foresight to bring a charger when you left Wanda’s. Or some food, at least.

You continued your vigil in the unfeeling hospital hallway, a place that seemed to exist outside of time. But you had to admit, speaking to Bucky had raised your spirits a little. It reminded you of the old days, when he was an anchor in a storm, a calming presence when things were tough. Part of you had missed that.

You’d just closed your eyes a little while later when you heard someone call your name.

“Still hungry?”

Your eyes filled with tears as your head snapped to see who it was.

There stood Bucky dressed in his off-duty grey sweats, his unstyled hair flopping across his forehead. In his hand was a brown bag, you instantly recognised the brand of your favourite take-out place printed across the front. It smelled heavenly.

“Buck…?” you mumbled in shock, not quite believing he was there, “what…what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “you said you were alone and hadn’t eaten. I know how you get when you’re anxious. Figured you could use this”.

It wasn’t clear if he meant the food or the company, but in that moment, you were grateful for both.

He sat in the chair next to yours and began to methodically remove the food tubs, placing them on your lap and opening the lids as he pulled out a fork and napkins.

“Hope you still like this one,” he said as he revealed your usual order.

“I do”, you replied, your voice small.

“Good. Dig in.”

You began to eat slowly, feeling strangely self-conscious about your audience. Fortunately, he pulled out a tub of his own which took the focus off you. The two of you sat side by side and ate in silence.

“Thanks for this, Bucky,” you mumbled between mouthfuls.

“Anytime. Any news on Lou?”

“Should be ready for visitors soon”.

“Well, that’s good. He’s a tough old bastard.”

You both finished your meals and Bucky got to work tidying up the empty containers and old napkins and depositing them in the trash. You thanked him as he sat back down.

“Hey…thanks again, that was really thoughtful - but really, you don’t have to stay,” you shrugged, “you probably have a busy night”.

He shook his head, “nope. I’m wide open”.

He stared straight ahead and leaned back, his bulk squeezing up against the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you mean when you said, ‘I know how you get when you’re anxious?’” you asked him tentatively.

“Just…I know how you can spiral when you’re stressed. Figured you could use some company is all,” he casually as he moved his hair away from his face.

“T-thanks,” you responded, your throat dry, “I’m not really up to chatting much right now, though”.

He was nonchalant, “that’s fine”.

The two of you sat side by side, nothing said.

It was awkward at first, sharing this cold and sterile space with your ex, worries about Lou weighing you down. But then after some time…it was sort of…okay? He didn’t try to initiate any conversation; he didn’t show any signs of boredom – even though he must’ve been feeling it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t check his watch. He just sat and waited with you, his arms propped up casually on the armrests and his eyes trained on the wall in front of him. You were grateful that he’d heeded your request not to speak as you didn’t have the brain power to labour a conversation. You didn’t fully understand why, but him just physically being there was strangely comforting - as odd as that was to admit to yourself.

Eventually the nurse returned, her smile warm as she greeted you.

“Oh, you have a friend. Right on time, Lou is ready to see you now”.

You quickly got to your feet and dashed after her as she led you to Lou’s room. Bucky followed close behind.

Your heart sank when you finally saw him, covered in wires and tubes, his face suddenly much older than his years. You gasped, rushing over to his bedside.

“Hey, kiddo” he wheezed, a smile creeping over his face despite the obvious effort it required, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh God, Lou, I was so scared…I thought you’d…” you took his hand in yours, unable to say the words out loud as the tears started again.

You felt like you’d cave in on yourself from the anguish, but a steadying hand found its way to your shoulder from behind you. Bucky squeezed once, a small reminder of his presence, then pulled his hand away. It was grounding, helpful.

“Hey there hon, I’m doin’ okay”, Lou rasped as he weakly tried to grip your hand in return. “But I guess this is a good reminder to lay off the bacon, huh?” he chuckled before the effort caused him to wheeze.

You smiled faintly and patted his hand, careful to mind the IV by his fingers, “you gotta start taking better care of yourself, okay? No more greasy breakfasts at work…”

He nodded slowly, his eyes flickering over to Bucky behind you, “you brought company…”

“Oh, yeah”, you turned to gesture to Bucky, “he sat with me and brought me dinner while I waited”.

Lou nodded, a flash of something in his eyes you couldn’t place. “You takin’ care of her?”

Bucky nodded in return, “of course”.

Lou inhaled deeply, “well…alright, I’m glad she’s not been by herself”, he begrudgingly offered. “I wouldn’t want her out in the cold…so to speak” he said pointedly, a clear reference to that awful night one year before.

“Rest assured…that would never happen,” Bucky responded coolly. “But I understand your concern”.

You watched as the two men stared at each other, something resembling an understanding seemed to lay between them.

💔

You sat with Lou for as long as you could before the doctor shooed you and Bucky out, explaining Lou needed to rest. You promised you’d be back tomorrow.

“Oh hon…no. Don’t waste your time on an old man like me,” he teased playfully.

“Oh, stop that. You know I’m going to be here with balloons and grapes, the whole shebang…” you grinned, putting your coat on.

“Good to see you, Lou” Bucky chimed in as he shook Lou’s hand, “you’ll be fighting fit in no time”.

Unbeknownst to you as you were busy with your bag and coat, Lou used a finger to beckon Bucky to move closer. Bucky obliged, leaning forward so that Lou could speak to him. His words were hushed but clear.

“Hurt her again and I’ll beat the living shit out of you. Bad ticker or not. And I don’t care how many of your goons you set on me…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but his expression betrayed no emotion, “understood”.

You turned, smiling obliviously at Lou just as Bucky stood back up to full height and cleared his throat. They both smiled back.

“See you tomorrow, Lou”.

“See you, kiddo”.

You left the room with Bucky trailing behind. As a small sob escaped your throat, his hand pressed firmly against your back. A small reminder that he’d shown up for you. He was there.

💔

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 14

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Engineer / Reader Summary: Date an Engie who loves and appreciates you. Warnings: N/A

The Mann Co. Wars were over and gone, with most of the general public still greatly unaware that such a war had gone on for so long. The remaining mercs had been paid their severance packages and bonuses based on their years of servitude and slipped back into their subjectively normal lives as if nothing had changed. A great deal of the former mercenaries on both teams kept in contact with one another, even forming a few support groups that regularly met around the globe. Some returned to husbands, wives, and families, while others were thrilled to experience the dating scene without the need to conceal their identity. Your darling husband was one such former mercenary.

Neither of you had been looking for a relationship, and you’d quite literally stumbled into one another at the local fair the year after the liquidation of Mann Co. Joseph had been in the livestock barn admiring the animals set to be shown, and you’d been repairing the sprinkler system that kept the critters cool in the festering summer heat. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking, and you were just trying to get down from your ladder. Thankfully the two of you only tumbled into a nearby hay wheelbarrow full of feed and not something worse, and you’d both gotten a laugh out of the fumble, but he still insisted on making it up to you somehow.

You started spending your time together at the fair that day, staying to watch the animals be shown and discussing which Joe should purchase for his ranch. He’d come expecting to leave with just a heifer or two, maybe a young bull, but ended up purchasing a few more fine animals he couldn’t resist. You certainly came in handy when you offered to help him haul the animals back, given that you’d brought your trailer to the fair, too. Now he was left needing to doubly repay you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed until he officially asked you out, much less when he kissed you for the first time, but the flow of time continued until you eventually found yourself with matching rings on your hands and sharing the comfort of a home.

It was quite the crisp fall day for the Midwest, and Joseph had been out most of the day, working away on repairing his tractor before winter came. You had been dutifully tending to the animals and your kitchen garden, gently checking in on your husband once in a while but knowing better than to interrupt when he got deep into his machines. Especially when it looked like he was about to take this one apart piece by piece.

You wouldn’t have guessed it, but Joseph was actually less intensely invested in his work than you thought, and that was greatly in part thanks to you. Were he still at Mann Co. he’d be throwing and kicking things by now, but something about your sheer nature had seeped some kind of gentleness into the very fibers of his being, and while he was very annoyed, he was still level-headed about his tractor project. You checked on him one last time, dropping off a thermos of warm coffee before returning to the house. He couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the front door, noting the pause of the screen door swinging shut that signaled you letting in the old tomcat.

Both of you lost track of time as the day continued, you lost in the preparation of dinner and some little chores around the house while Joe remained outside. Finally, you stepped back out onto the porch, standing at the top step as you wiped your hands on your apron and called for your husband across the field.

“Josie! Supper’s just about done!”

Joseph let out a heavy sigh as he wiped his own hands on a grease-stained rag, placing his tools away back in his toolbox before hefting himself up from the dirt. He took a moment to stand there, wiping his hands some more as he stared at you with a little crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could see the signs of dinner on your apron, see how the toes of your houseshoes wiggled in soft impatience, see the old denim of your favorite overalls you had sewn flower embroidery into on a whim. His heart was warm, and his belly grumbled as he finally moseyed back to the house.

“Make any progress on her?” You questioned in that gentle tone of yours, making his smile break even bigger.

“A little. Gettin’ closer to solvin’ the big problem. One little problem at a time.”

You walked inside, Joseph stopping to hang up his hat and coat by the door before following you into your little dining room. He sat down in his chair after shooing away the tomcat, sighing in relief as the wooden chair was more comfortable than the cold dirt ground he’d been on all day.

“I guess you’d figured something out. Saw how you were eyeing up that part you pulled out a couple hours ago so I went ahead and called up to Tom’s and told him you might be up later this week for something.”

Tom’s was the main part store in town, a small but well-stocked and family-operated business that knew you and your husband well by name. Joseph felt his heart flutter as he watched you serve him up a plate of dinner, acknowledging that you’d gone ahead and made a call he likely would have made on his own.

“Thank you, darlin’, you’re wonderful.”

He let you place down his plate and utensils before grabbing your wrist and placing a series of small, lingering kisses on the back of your hand.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You chuckled and leaned down to place a return kiss on his temple.

“You’re still making up for knocking us into that wheelbarrow.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

[lumassen]

I'm hungry for densu content. Would you, please? >< please please please

Hello! I literally saw this ask earlier today and decided to sit just with a word document for an hour and see what we ended up with.

Here we have part one of a little 1930’s inspired drabble. The pacing isn’t my best, but I hope you like it!

——————

The drizzle outside was unpleasant, causing the cobbles to become slippery underfoot. Stefan quickened his pace, keeping his head low and his gaze beneath the brim of his hat as to not bump into anyone that he was familiar with. The letter he’d received in the morning post was tucked safely in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, his heartbeat beneath it steadily growing more unsteady as he approached his destination. It was 1931, Stockholm, and the lamplighter was already out - he was late.

Stefan had known from an early age that he wasn’t how he was supposed to be. He wasn’t interested in petticoats and garter belts and red painted lips, though beautiful as they were. Instead, Stefan was drawn to his own sex, destined to either live in sin or live a lie. For now, he chose the former, frequenting secret clubs and booking hotel rooms under false names, but it couldn’t last forever. Stefan didn’t work in service, nor did many anymore, especially after the war, and so he couldn’t blame the absence of a wife and family on his chosen career for much longer. Soon people would begin to wonder why he was without children and eventually put two and two together.

But Stefan was just 27, and still had some time left yet before he needed to think about settling down; time to spend with the one whom he truly loved.

The rain was beginning to come down heavier now, and Stefan narrowly avoided a puddle as he stepped out to cross the road as he reached the venue. He fussed with his trouser leg, pulling at the fabric to lift it above his ankle until another pair of feet came into his field of vision. He recognised the brogues, polished yet scuffed, and his head snapped up so that his eyes could land on their wearer.

There, leaning against the wall beside the entrance to the establishment, an old cotton traders, was Jens.

“Evenin’ Lundberg,” he said around the cigarette that hung from his lips, and Stefan tipped the brim of his hat in greeting, barely concealing the smile that spread across his usually stoic features.

He watched as Jens eyes darted over his shoulder and waited whilst he made sure that they weren’t being watched. When the coast was clear, Jens pushed himself up from were he was leaning and turned to rap on the door - two short and loud knocks followed by three taps of the forefinger. There was movement on the other side, and Stefan checked once more over his shoulder before following Jens inside.

‘Cottons’, as it was known amongst men of Stefans sort, was always comfortably busy, and Stefan returned nods and glances that were directed at him from other frequents. His hand had barely let go of his coat and hat from where he’d hung them up before Jens took hold of it in his, bringing it to his lips and leaving the gentlest of kisses on the back of it.

In these sorts of establishments, especially in the new era of 1930, displays of affection were commonplace. When Stefan first met Jens however, he wasn’t used to it, and would chide and berate him for acts such as this in front of others. But now, after spending 6 months apart, Stefan found that it wasn’t enough to satisfy the butterflies that swarmed within him.

Stepping forward, Stefan brought a calloused hand up to the side of Jens face, his fingers curling just beneath Jens’ jaw, and pulled him in for a kiss. The butterflies took flight, the murmur of voices in the room disappeared, and all that Stefan could think about was Jens.

”God, how I’ve missed you.” Jens mumbled against Stefans lips as he slipped his hand into his back pocket.

For a few moments they just stood within the others embrace, foreheads pressed against the others, their gazes’ steady, until the bartender called over.

“Hey Jens, come and boost the Swedish economy, we’ve missed having a Dane and his drinks tab in here.”

Taking a step back from Stefan, a wide grin broke out across Jens’ face as he turned toward the bar,

“Two of the usual then please, Magnus!” He called back, giving Stefan a wink before entwining their hands and pulling them in the direction of their pints.

By now, Stefan was used to Jens’ extravagance, though at times it still left him with a voice in the back of his head that told him that one day Jens would lose interest in him.

As a Royal correspondent for a major Danish newspaper, Jens was more than just a handsome face. He was educated, intelligent, and knew how to work a room. He would turn heads wherever he went, had wit and charm and an infectious laugh, low and hearty and full of soul. Jens could have whomever he wanted, and yet he still chose Stefan.

As if sensing Stefans insecurity, Jens brushed his hand lightly through Stefans hair,

“Hey, I didn’t sail across the Øresund strait for this y’know,” Jens said as he took a seat on a stool and motioned with a flicker of his eye toward the pint of beer in his hand,

”Well, not just this,” he smirked as he took a sip, and Stefan rolled his eyes.

Placing his other hand on Stefans knee as he slid onto the stool beside him, Jens lowered his voice,

”I really have missed you. I still keep your photograph on the nightstand.”

Somehow to Stefan, that felt more intimate than any kiss could, and when he turned to look at Jens he saw nothing but genuine affection within his eyes.

It had been nearly three years since Stefan and Jens had met. Jens, whom was on a business trip at the time, visited Åhléns department store to purchase new driving gloves. At first he was just another customer to Stefans counter, but when he noticed that Jens had returned for three days in a row, each time buying a different pair of gloves, Stefan began to realise that Jens lingered a little longer than patrons usually did.

After each encounter, Stefan would stare at the ceiling at night and wonder if he was reading too much into the way that Jens would touch his forearm ever so gently before asking to see something from within the cabinet, or how he would steal glances at him whilst he was taking the measurements of his hands. But on the fourth day, when Jens appeared at his counter with a single green carnation pinned to his lapel, Stefan could never forget how he felt within that moment.

”Jens, d’ya think,” Stefan began, then paused to draw in a breath.

Jens still held his hand on his leg, a comfortable grasp just beneath the beginning of his thigh.

”How much longer can this really go on?” He said through an exhale, and watched as Jens’ face fell.

“Come on Stef, let’s not ruin our first night together after so long.” He pleaded, his hand now gripping a little tighter.

But as much as Stefan wanted to remain blissfully unaware to the fact that at some point what he and Jens shared would inevitably come to an end, it was now getting to the point where he just couldn’t imagine his life carrying on without him - and he hadn’t realised just how much until he set eyes on him again this evening after their longest time apart.

Jens set his beer down, the glass still half full.

“Look, let's go to the hotel. Your booking is under Larsson. I’ll meet you there.” Jens said, a firm tone to his voice as he slid off the stool. He hesitated for a moment, and Stefan thought that he might say something else. But he instead just stooped to press a fleeting kiss on Stefans cheek before he took his leave, and Stefan was left with a tight coil within his chest; perhaps this was the beginning of the end.

——————

*Green carnations were a MLM symbol and queer coded, originating in France in around 1925

* I really tried my best to be as historically accurate as I could with this, but I wrote it in about an hour so my research was only brief. I apologise if anything is off.

* I will do a part two at some point, I just ran out of steam lol

[the-starry-seas]

So this whole BOBF AU started because I saw a meme on reddit and proceeded to take it seriously

So Boba of course has all those problems about being a clone, and of course all those problems about his dad being dead. Being a Fett just means having issues in general, right? I mean we've all seen Jango.

Boba is doing his perfectly normal daimyo thing when the Hutt twins show up with their tribute. Instead of a rancor - in this AU, the rancor was left behind by the former daimyo that Boba shot - the Hutt twins have a clone. Specifically, they have a clone made from Boba's DNA, rather than Jango's. They specify this when they drop him off.

Boba understands this as the implied threat it is. Someone who has his DNA without him realising it... nope, he has to dig into that and kill whoever is responsible.

He also has an extremely traumatised eight-year-old. The new kid's designation is 'Clone Experiment Prime'. Which is a little long for a name so they (Boba, Fennec, Din) call him Prime. They also start trying to figure out where Prime came from.

Eventually they figure everything out, destroy the facility, destroy the remaining DNA sample, and then go and kill the Hutt twins. It's a win for everyone involved! Well, everyone in the Fett clan.

And then Boba has to go back to Tatooine and deal with Prime. He does not want to be a father. He does not want to deal with a kid. He does ask if maybe Din wants to adopt Prime. Din essentially says "What's wrong with you? Get your shit together and step up for your new kid."

Meanwhile Prime is well aware that Boba does not want him around. Sure, Boba hasn't said anything where Prime can hear, but Boba's default way of dealing with new things is to be closed off and aloof, and that's not exactly reassuring. Prime's general takeaway from all this is I wasn't good enough for the scientists, so it's no wonder I'm not good enough for my father.

Besides, Boba has Fennec and Din, and Din has Grogu, so it doesn't seem like any of them have any need for Prime. Fennec and Din pay attention to him, sure, but they don't exactly seem to care. They don't ever tell him that he's wanted.

So the tiny, scared, angry clone who's never known love a day in his life... runs. He was abandoned in the science facility, so he thinks he knows how to survive on his own. Turns out that things are much more dangerous on Tatooine than one might expect.

It's not long before Boba realises that Prime is missing, and he then assumes that Prime was kidnapped. He promptly starts asking around in the criminal underworld. By which I mean he shoots a bunch of people and makes a bunch of threats, because he's Boba Fucking Fett and he's pissed off.

When a crew of lowlifes run across Prime, they recognise him as the daimyo's missing kid, and figure there's a great reward in it for them if they bring him back to the palace. Prime does not want to go back to the palace. This is completely irrelevant to the lowlifes, who drag him off, quite literally kicking and screaming.

Boba is not impressed with the way they're treating Prime, and promptly commits more violence.

This does not endear him any to Prime, who's well aware that Boba doesn't like him, and figures he's going to be next because of all the trouble he's caused. His attempt at running for his life is thwarted by Boba catching him.

Boba is not prepared for Prime to break down crying, or for Prime to swear he'll leave and never come back, if only Boba won't hurt him.

Boba reluctantly decides that if he's going to be anything like his father before him... he's gonna have to adopt the kid.

This starts an extremely tense father-son relationship, which Boba proceeds to mess up multiple times, because he has no idea what he's doing. And because he doesn't really want to be a dad in the first place, but he knows that if Prime does run off on his own, he's just going to become another target as soon as anyone figures out his connection to Boba. (Also Boba has daddy issues and abandonment issues, and something something healing your inner child, but in this case it's a child clone of you.)

Upon being treated with kindness for the first time in his life, Prime becomes the sort of clingy that is generally reserved for baby koalas. Boba is hardly the best dad, or even a good dad, really. But he cares about what happens to Prime, and ensures that nobody has a chance to hurt him, and gets him a good education and a pet massiff and a coat that protects him from the sand and a bed that's soft. Prime thinks that Boba's pretty great.

He also starts panicking extremely when he starts thinking that he's a girl, because Boba always calls him 'son' and 'boy' and 'him', and there will surely be some problems in the family if Prime is suddenly none of those things.

Once again, having been forced to be self-sufficient at a young age due to neglect, Prime's solution to all this is to run away, because if nobody knows where she is, they won't be able to hurt her.

Once again, Boba thinks that someone's kidnapped Prime and kills people about it, because if anybody's laid a hand on his kid, they're going to regret it.

Fortunately nobody else finds Prime this time around. Possibly because they're all aware that Boba's on the warpath, and they don't want to get in the middle of that. Or maybe it's just because she's gotten better at hiding, and also has a massiff with her who looks ready to rip the face off of anyone who looks at her wrong.

Boba finds her a few days later and is not pleased with any part of this situation. (He's also been scared shitless by the idea that slavers got their hands on his kid, but god forbid he feel a normal human emotion, so he's covering all that up with rage.)

Anyway, Boba and Prime end up in a screaming match in the street, because Boba thinks Prime is absolutely bonkers for running away from home again, and because of the aforementioned rage cover.

He's also stunned speechless when Prime finally shrieks at him that she ran away from home because she's a girl and he wants a son.

In the most exasperated and baffled tone known to man, he tells her that he doesn't care if he has a daughter or a son, he just wants her to be safe. (And in that moment, maybe, he's the most like his father that he ever will be.)

Prime is also stunned speechless by this, because she genuinely thought that Boba would discard her the second she no longer lived up to his expectations. That's what the scientists did, and it's the only frame of reference she has, for failure.

Upon realising that he's not like the scientists, she immediately starts crying. Boba immediately starts panicking, because he thinks she's been hurt. He somehow panics even more when she flings herself at him and hugs him, because he has no idea what to do about any of this. Eventually he picks her up and carries her home.

Boba has exactly zero idea how to support his daughter in her social transition. She can do whatever she wants, obviously. But it seemed to be a pretty big problem, so he feels like he has to say something. So he tells her that he'll do whatever she wants, if it will help, and asks if maybe she can talk to him if there's any problems, instead of running away again. (He's over thirty so like. His knees. Please have mercy on his knees. He can't keep running around like that.)

Prime decides that she wants a new name, because being called Prime always went hand in hand with being called a boy. Also it reminds her of the lab she was raised and then abandoned in, and she doesn't really like that. She asks if Boba will help her look for a new one, and Boba is internally actually kinda excited by this because it seems like a gesture of trust from her.

She decides to change her name to Prim, short for Primrose. Boba has some questions about that, because wasn't the point of changing her name... well, to be different than before? But he doesn't ask, because he doesn't want another runaway episode, and also she seems really happy with it. Anything to make his daughter happy.

(Being eight years old, Prim does not have the vocabulary to explain why she changed her name so slightly. It's about claiming what once signified her lack of autonomy, and making it part of her identity once she's allowed to have one. Prim is a similar word to Prime. That's the point. She's so similar to what she once was - when she was a scared, abandoned boy in an old lab, certain of nothing but a father's uncaringness - and there's barely any differences right now. But they are there. And they mean everything to her.)

Boba asks her about the flower she named herself after. She shows him pictures and gushes about how pretty they are, and asks if maybe, some day, when she's older, they can go on a trip to see some in person?

He says he'll think about it. He surprises her a week later with a huge flowerpot full of pink and yellow primroses in full bloom.

She tells him that he's the best dad a girl could ever have. And in that one simple sentence, is contained everything she ever wanted.

[dr9com9ge-ix]

I'd adore to know more about Wili, if you've had any more thoughts...

Hello Anon! I’ve had many thoughts since this was sent and have accumulated them! Accompanied by some Wili Art by yours truly! (Long post warning, Yapping time! Thank you so much for sending this ask!!!!!)

So this is Wili- Former employee of K-corp (Specifically the food resource development team, Mostly focused on horticulture) and now current employee of the Limbus company! He has a strong desire (nearing obsession) to innovate on how food is obtained and spreading it across the city when he finds it by any means necessary! He left his old job because he felt like it was stagnating and didn’t let him expriment as much as he’d like to (He was in a very middle position I imagine, Not quite at the bottom but not a big enough shot to be on level with Dongrang or something)

And so this spurs him to look elsewhere to satisfy this hunger for knowledge, for a world where one could just pick an apple off a tree and never starve again and well like… His literal hunger!

So he was offered a chance to satisfy that by the Limbus company and he happily accepted! Ever curious about the abnormalities the company faces- If whether or not they’d taste good or provide anything for people. Both in the name of science and the future but also because he is hungry. A wee bit of mad scientist and a gourmand in one.

His EGO is called Stomachache!— It sort of delves into the carrot on a stick/ Forbidden fruit sort of vibe of the future he wants being akin to a ravenous hunger, the kind that turns people into feral animals. He literally bites people in his EGO attack! (Thats where the healing comes from-) He also is quite food agressive and it factors into his passive making him go faster, Probably the sanity hit from EGO use making him act alot less polite than he usually is.

He definitely wants the whole “Food is now easily accessible for everyone!” utopia so he could eat as much as he wants and not think of the possibility of it being taken from him- Also because he thinks the worst thing you could do to someone is just starving them!

Butcher Vanity is probably the main song I listen to when doodling him- Its a very him song to me. Also still thinking about other characters relating to his past/ would be in his Canto and I think it’d be cute to make em fruit themed (There… Isn’t alot of characters to work off of in his source material…Its literally just The Hungry Caterpillar)

Also for other EGOs aside from his own he definitely would have Mountain of smiling bodies/ Smile - Its relating to the hunger! And well he may or may not be willing to kill to have consistent and hearty meals. (also say Hi to Erik my boy he’s in this doodle page too). Maybe also a Fairy Festival/ Fairy Gentleman Ego too. As for IDs- Mayhaps an Eighth Chef/Greta one, a Liu assocation. All that jazz!

Other wee facts about Wili

- Wili has pretty bad hunger pangs, enough to make him want to eat before he thinks he’ll get them. Has a tendency to overeat though.

- He loves talking at length about agriculture — Though mostly from a scientific lens, as he’s never been a farm boy. Mostly working on plants in a lab setting rather than a field. He’ll also yap about food preparation too.

- Kind of dude that will try to grow stuff from groceries.

- His favorite food is a fresh fruit salad but a nice rare steak is a close second!

- He may or may not have considered who to eat first in case of an emergency and may have been too enthusiastic to try human flesh. (much to his coworkers’ horror and then eventual “Okay Wili we know…” /exasperated)

- His little caterpillar hairclip was a gift from a former coworker at K-corp. He thinks its very cute and just has it on him all the time.

-He’s… Maybe also inspired by the Genetically Modified Caterpillar video- In the sense of “Little hungry dude becomes horrifying due to this insatiable hunger and devours things due to science!”

- His name comes from the unused title/ Draft title of The Hungry caterpillar which was “A week with Wili the worm” Because I really didn’t want to name him after the author (I’d have Eric with a C and Erik with a K in that case) and couldn’t find a caterpillar-ish name that would work.

[kaqura]

I apologise for asking this if it isn't something you want to talk about but do you know why there is so much hatred for Kagura from so many S*ssr*n shippers/HnY fans? I haven't seen HnY because I don't like sequels that take away the happy ending of the original so I only know a few spoilers through the grapevine, but the Kagura hate I've seen lately from some HnY fans reminds me of anti-Kikyou Inukag shippers from twenty years ago. But Inukag shippers are more supportive of Kikyou nowadays and fandom in general is less misogynistic than it used to be, so I don't understand why another woman being important to Sesshoumaru in the original Inuyasha series is so unacceptable that Kagura gets hate now. Even if people ship S*ssr*n, love isn't a finite resource? Sesshoumaru loving and wanting to avenge Kagura doesn't mean he can't love anyone else, it doesn't diminish his other relationships—especially because Rin was a literal eight-year-old child when Kagura was alive. It's not like Kagura was a yandere type who harmed Sesshoumaru or anyone else he cared about, either, after a while Rin knew she had nothing to fear from Kagura and was squee'ing about Kagura being in love with Sesshoumaru.

Again, I apologise for how long this question was and sending it on Anon, I just didn't want to get hate from S*ssr*n shippers or HnY fans. Kagura's my favourite Inuyasha character, so it made me sad to browse the Inuyasha reddit/tumblr and see people calling her a 'manipulative bitch' and such when I went looking for fanart and fic about her. It's especially strange coming from people who praise other former villain characters like Sesshoumaru, who did worse things than Kagura when he was evil.

hello buddy sorry this is late i literally did not see it??

but since i'm obviously on the opposite end of the spectrum in this situation & have only really been involved in the tumblr iy fandom for so many years, the only thing i know about any of that drama is that she's perceived as a threat to their yucky ship bc she was really the canon love interest for sesshomaru in the og series. and kagura is obviously the polar opposite of rin in literally every aspect. like, we have a demoness that was born from the body of the main villain who comes out the gate swinging on koga's entire family & is forced to beef with the whole inugang constantly and calls sesshomaru a bitch to his face the second time they meet. versus a cute lil baby who's a complete blank slate. so for people that don't care for her bc of their ship bias it's pretty easy to misinterpret her character & motivations and draw silly conclusions lmao. i'm not gonna say kagura isn't problematic in some ways but LITERALLY WHO CARES it's not that serious?? pretty much everyone in IY has done morally questionable shit. it's a fairy tale set in feudal japan, like. and it sucks that you're coming across negative bs when you're just trying to enjoy yourself in this fandom!! that happened to me too when i first got back into iy in 2020 bc i didn't know that kagura was like severely hated until i joined an iy group on fb (owned by you-know-who, unbeknownst to me) and saw all that weird shit lmao. but there's a lot of really great creators on tumblr, at least, that are anti-sr & pro-kagura, so i hope that you could at least enjoy yourself on this blog!! <3

[ineverwrite]

All Good Things 4

Previous Chapters

Fred Weasley x Reader

The summer before their 5th year, Y/N felt the air shift. It seemed sudden, the way that the light that used to frame everything about the wizarding world and magic had darkened.

Upon crossing the magic barrier of 9 ¾ Y/N hardly had said good-bye to her family as she bee-lined her way to her best friends Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinet, and Katie Bell. The three erupted with glee at seeing their friend, eloping her with hugs and demands to know where the bloody hell she’d been all summer.  

           “You have no idea.” Y/N grumbled darkly.

           Y/N had spent the break couped up with Neville. Not that she didn’t like Neville, she loved her cousin, but the similar interests between a 13-year-old boy and 15-year-old girl were limited. After the murderer and former Death Eater Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban their grandmother and her parents seemed to become wardens overnight, strictly enforcing curfews and going far as checking her mail. That caused an incredible row, ending with Y/N being grounded for the better half of the summer.

Before she had the chance to think, Y/N’s world went sideways-literally.

“And where the bloody hell have you been!?” Fred Weasley demanded in his usual laughing tone, almost toppling over the now blushing and giggling girl. It was at some point last school year that Fred realized with fondness that Y/N’s laugh is the one he reveled in the most, and scarcely let an opportunity pass to hear it. Too dazzled and overwhelmed at his sudden thereness- Y/N couldn’t even respond before the final call whistles of the Hogwarts Express blared next to them.

           “Saved by the bell aye? Let’s find our seats…” Fred let go of his all too willing victim and followed his twin into the trolly. Turning slightly, still dazed, Y/N looked into the faces of her equally surprised, awed, and grinning faces of her friends.

           “Well, well, well- “ Katie smirked,

           “That’s new!” Alicia declared,

           “Where did that come from!?” Angelina questioned,

           “I have no idea.” Y/N replied dreamily.

Settling into their cabins the friends flowed into their usual routine, having this be the 5th trip they’ve taken to Hogwarts together. Y/N settled into her spot next to the window and across from the Weasley twin that made her heart skip a beat. How was it possible for him to be any fitter? Y/N thought hopelessly. All of the Weasleys had pretty hair, vividly red with mixes of auburn, cinnamon, and gold. The twins both had the build of a Beater- with broad shoulders and strong arms, definitely on the stockier side than their tall and gangly brothers. In the corner of the cabin Fred had his whole body angled toward his brother- who was animatedly discussing the newest broomstick with Angelina.

           A vicious jolt of the train knocked the Gryffindors around their cabin, the air turned frozen and still, the lights went out and Y/N knew then what pure fear felt like. Screams echoed through the Hogwarts Express, introducing the nightmare that drifted through the halls. Dementors, more horrible than ever previously imagined. In those horrible moments Y/N knew that the sun would never feel as warm, that laughing would never come as easy, or that she’d ever sleep as soundly again after knowing that these creatures existed. She was shaking from her position on the floor, in the chaos she hadn’t noticed that her and Fred both were knocked to the ground. He had his arm slung protectively over her chest, though his pale and horrified face surely reflected her own. Then, as soon as it happened, it was over. The Dementors were gone, the lights turned on, the warmth returned and reality sunk in. They regarded each other all for a moment in silence to process what they all had just experienced together. Fred moved his arm away from Y/N and shared a blank look with her, for once shocked into silence.

           “Why?” Angelica asked nobody in particular, breaking the tension,

           “Sirius Black.” Y/N answered simply, wincing as she rose.

           “Where are you going?” Fred demanded as he helped her stand. Y/N noted that in moments of extreme distress that Fred Weasley didn’t have the power to make her blush, oddly a relief.

           “I- I have to find Neville.” How could she explain this to them? Neville had experienced truly horrible things in his life, and if they had made her feel that wretched, she needed to find her cousin immediately.

           “Ginny?” George immediately asked. His twin only nodded. They did that often, where an entire conversation can be communicated with a single word and a gesture. The three set out for their respective younger family members and were relieved to find them whole, and together. The expression on Nevilles face made Y/N want to cry, Ginny was pale and watching Harry with deep concern. Y/N felt the sigh of relief from the twins as they saw that both of their younger siblings were relatively unscathed, and turned their attention to Harry Potter, who was getting handed chocolate squares by an older man with premature grey hair and a shabby suit.

           “Ah, family I suppose? Rather crowded in here..” The man politely assumed, and the older Gryffindor’s could just nod.

           “I am Professor R. J. Lupin, and if I were you, I’d return to my carriage- they will not be coming back.” Professor Lupin advised kindly. With a nod from Neville, Ginny, and Ron, the three departed back to their cabin. As they walked a thought struck Y/N that made her snort in humorless laugh. The twins looked at her questioningly.

           “It has to be a record, right? Term hasn’t even begun and something horrible has already happened.” With grim smiles they showed that they had to agree.

[snarkylinda]

I’m very glad you’re talking about spencer being parentified because it feels like people sometimes gloss over it a bit? or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong places. if this isn’t something you do in you’re blog feel free to just. not respond but do you have any more thoughts or. idk headcanons on how that might have affected him as an adult?

Hi anon! To be honest I have no idea what is essentially discussed alot on the fandom other that a tiny fraction of it I expose myself to because 1#I am too tired and old to deal with fandom discourse about my blorbo, and based on my previous experience with fandoms I KNOW that the most popular the character, the bigger the discourse so haha no- 2# I joined in late lmao literally a couple of months ago, so I am super out of the loop just screaming to the void in desperate needs for someone to scream back 🤲🏼 do this kind of asks actually made me so happy agahagaha 🥰🥰 Buckle up bois this is LONG-

Ok now to those that might come across this and ask themselves what the hell does being parentified means, it's a broad term used for the phenomenon of (at best) a child sharing parental responsibilities due to x circumstance, or (at worst) downright having the parent/child dynamic completely swapped, with the child being the caretaker for the parent and household. You don't have to know deep CM lore knowledge to realize the latter is Spencer Reid to a T. Hell, they aren't even subtle about it lmao:

Btw parentification is often mixed in with abandonment and while they share the "child being forced to grown up" too quickly, the former is often distinguished by the fact that, more often that not as is this case, the parent still cares for them but are unable to do so how it should be (tho there are several cases where parentefication is an part of willing neglect, sadly) and added to the fact that they have to look after themselves- they have to look after another.

This is a really complicated, broad topic and I just mentioned this to go full disclaimer and that I don't blame Diana at all for how messed her son ended up since she can't help it- and to make a joke about how Spencer was abandoned and parentified. Also harassed. Guys he wasn't even 18-

Anyways but back to your question, how do I think that affected Spencer growing up....well in everything basically lmao

But I will take on two instances that had stood up to me the most: emotional management and hiding secrets.

The second one is easier: you would catch this man dead before he vents to you over something other than his shitty dad (that I find very funny tbh) and when he does is because he is at his limit and about to fucking cry.

Now don't get me wrong: we all are entiltde to our privacy. These are grown ass adults and they have lives outside of their working circle....

Right?

Haha we have an problem-

So yeah, Spencer kind of actually needs to rely on his co-workers because he has literally nobody else to rely on-

And yet

Oh here is the thing- Spencer is one polite boi but he is also blunt, if he doesn't want someone on his business he says so (look back when Alex discovered him and Maeve) this is literally "I wanted to tell you but I feel like I shouldn't"- this is not season 1 mind you, this is season 11, and yet here he was one of his oldest friends literally grabbing him by the arm and having to tell him it's never a bother- I am the only one fucking crying at this?

Excuses seems to come to Spencer like it's second nature- "sorry a tube on my apparment broke" "Oh I....I tripped!" "There was a lot of traffic so..." "I was watching an movie" and I am not am expert on USA's history or some shit, but Child Protection Services had been a thing since at least the 60s, so I don't think that a 10yo living alone with his mentally ill mother would have flown well- you get the idea.

I think this scene summarizes the whole thing perfectly

Get it? it's irony. (I love how Spencer is about to say something like dismissive "thank you" but because this shit hit too close to home to comfort he just gave a polite smile and walked away. That silence was LOUD) Because Spencer had always had done the former but the latter er.... :D

And it's not only when it concern Diane btw, any problem whatsoever Spencer would rather lock himself up (literally lmao) that sit down and talk about it- it's only when his bs is exposed and he can't refutage (like that little scene after Gideon's death when Rossi asks him if he had been there all night- he points out the fact he is wearing the same cardigan as the day before) that he opens up....or he runs away, which leads me to the second big point that I think shows how much Parentification fucked him up:

Spencer has the emotional maturity of a teenager.

I talk about this literally all the time so I'll be shorter lmao basically Spencer... has an issue- ok he has lot of issues- and that is the way he dislikes direct confrontation, so whenever he is hurt or angry he would rather be dismissive and passive-agressive that talk it out with the person- even going as far as turning away and storming out of the room.

(Here is the part where I put the screencaps but him storming off would be out of focus so lmao er.... Elephant Memory, Memoriam, Proof, a little part in 15x2 and The Gathering)

Now... I do think that a grown-ass man doing this shit is hilarious, like I love Spencer's bratty side so much lmao but it's an clear sign of someone that never learned how to deal with his emotions on a healthy way, someone that 6 out of 7 days of the week had to interiorize everything in and because of that holds on so much....resement, so much repressed anger but also without an stable force on his life to help him manage that- so we are left with an teenager trapped in an adult's body, loss at how to handle shit like he always did.

....And want to know the worst part about an Parentified boy onto adulthood?

That they don't know better.

[rosedarkness24]

Cult Shenanigans

Ghost stories

POV Ash

If you had told Ash 80 years ago that she would have her life turned upside down by a green wort worm, be put up for sacrifice to a God she didn't even know, and then saved by a adorable little lamb. She would've socked you in the face and told you to get back to work. Her old village wasn't big by any means. Smaller than the campsite they are at now. Resources were slim, and food was scarce. Being the only girl out of a litter of 7 kits, she had to learn how to fight to survive. But they were happy, and the future was looking up as they had gotten a big shipment of resources and seeds. Though they weren't expecting that the shipment was a trap.

Now, 80 years later, the last surviving member of the village. She has died, been resurrected, died again, and been resurrected yet again. For what, she honestly didn't care to know. She knew she was going to be resurrected. The Lamb always let them know, though sometimes even the Lamb couldn't keep up with who wasn't here and who was. She'd been watching her fearless leader running around doing tasks about the camp. More than what they should be doing in her honest opinion.

The heat of the day was over and giving way to the cool night breeze. The sun would be setting soon, and soon, their work day would come to an end. Shifting on her stiff legs, she let's her butt plop down onto the ground before just falling backward and groaning in tiredness. A stifled chuckle comes from her side, Keith finally making noise after three hours.

"What's wrong, Ash? Getting tired of worshipping the Lamb finally?" A feminine voice echoing across the statue. Of course, Valefar would jump on the chance to poke some fun at her.

"Not as tired as you are after a night with Thorn~" her retort was quick, gaining a dramatic gasp from the fluffy pink cat at her side.

"We have not done the naughty! We just chat a lot that's all."

"And the giggling with sounds of what is clearly you two making out?" She bumps her tail to the cat's arm.

"It's absolutely normal for couples to make out. You're the weird one without someone. Heck, even Keith has a crush on someone." Thron was not having it. Not that she could blame him, everyone has teased him for somehow managing to swing two former followers of the choas God.

"Yeah! You literally fit the lone wolf vibe like our leader. Go find someone or just ask the leader out." Yeah, that wasn't happening. From the number of times she had been witness to the Lamb's rejections, she could tell they didn't really like anyone more than as their flock.

"How about you shove it up your ass Valefar."

"Bitch! I am saying you need a life outside of devoting your existence to the Lamb and Death." She wasn't wrong. All Ash has done since she's been here was devote herself to the Lamb and The One Who Waits. But it's not like a 24.7 thing, she does hang out with her friends, just not as much as she likes showing her devotion. She wanted so desperately to be at the Lamb's side. To be the once they confide in, but so far, they have been distant.

"Well, if we're done poking fun at each other, let's head to bed. Night fall is upon us soon."

"You're dodging the topic, Ash~" The fuzzy red silk worm moves past the statue over to the group. Closing Ash in their little bubble.

"I have a life outside of devoting myself to our God and Lamb. I just know when to separate work from play." Sitting up off the ground finally, she stretched out her back a bit. She wasn't able to do an actual full stretch while sitting on the ground like Thorn. But in a way, she counts that as a blessing. She knows her limits.

"Plus, isn't this like our job? We power the Lamb to help free our God. What else could anyone wish for?" The looks she got weren't ones she liked.

Keith scratches the back of his head. Despite him being the first follower, he never really seemed to be eager about all this. More than once, has he fought with the Lamb about their decisions. And while she understood his values didn't aline well with the Lamb's. It's those same values that have kept him from his death. Those same values showed him that it was okay to be flawed.

"Ash.... I don't think we should sacrifice our health..... especially our mental health." He nervously taps his fingers together. "And That's kinda worrisome behavior...."

"Oh, okay. So we all know Keith is a skeptical bitch." Valefar claps her hands together and takes a deep breath, shooting a glare at Keith who was trying to speak again. "We aren't saying love is devotion. There's a difference, and while you do have devotion. You clearly also have a thing for the Lamb."

How can she have a thing for the Lamb? She wasn't even sure they even thought she was even a friend. Isn't this a little jumping the gun? She sighs, pitching the bridge of her snout out of frustration.

"While you're might not be wrong about me wanting to know them more, that's it. I don't know about you, but I don't think they even know that we exist outside what we do." She pushes herself up off the ground and brushes herself off. "Plus, looking at this from a more modest perspective, I want to be someone they can trust. And I will do so without pushing them out of their boundaries."

Thorn smiles softly and takes her arm into his. "I agree with this. That's a lot healthier way of getting into a relationship compared to my way."

"Oh? Was me pin-"

"Aaaaaahhh! Valefar nooooo!" Quickly, the pink cat covers his taller lover's mouth.

----

Night had fallen hours ago yet. Sleep didn't come for the four, so to combat this, they decided to sneak off to the temple to tell ghost stories. Like scarring the shit out of each other would fix their insomnia. It mostly fueled Valefar's and Ash's gremlin behavior as Keith was too easily spooked by things, and Thorn was so fluffy when they got to scare him.

Keith had been bad at telling ghost stories compared to the rest. Thorn's while can be scary. It was more a predictable scary. Valefar's genuinely scared them all. For a former follower of chaos, she definitely showed follower of death traits long before all this. Graphically telling of true horror stories about things she has done in the past to those who didn't follow the old faith.

Meanwhile, Ash seemed to be more on the supernatural side of ghost stories. Her turn, having rolled around again, She was growing tired. But the others clearly were still wide awake. It was definitely close to midnight or past midnight now. And none of them are going to want to wake up tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, letting her mind clear so she could tell her story. Her ear flicks, and she opens her eyes, an idea in mind now.

"You ever hear about the Lambs that were all sacrificed? What happened to their souls?" Her voice had drops a bit with the seriousness in it.

"A bit of an insensitive story, Ash." Keith crossed his arms, not amused by this at all. And he wouldn't be wrong if he wasn't the one pointing it out. But so far, there were no objects to her using this topic.

"Oh, shut up, Keith. Valefar has been telling fucking old faith stories this whole time." Thorn jabs back to the fawn. "Continue with your story, Ash. I know that I personally never heard anything about what happened to the lambs' souls before."

A smirk danced on the fox's lips as Thorn allowed her to continue. "In my old village, not too far from this campground actually." A lie, "We had worked throughout the night, and when night falls, the barrier between life and death is lowered by the magic in the air. So it was a great time to craft magic infused items to make a protective barrier around the village. Like how the Lamb has those just outside the campground." She gestures to where the stone wall would be outside the temple.

"That night, me and my brother, Jackson, were assigned this task. We hadn't ever done this before. So we spent the whole day learning each one who what they were supposed to do." She leans back and reaches up into the air.

"We came up with a game plan. I would take care of my half of the village while he did his half. It's quicker that way. And we could possibly get a few more hours of sleep." Grabbing onto the air, a silent gesture to how untrue their thoughts were.

"Everything started out fine. I was able to get halfway through my side in such a short time. Finding the whole process of blessing and crafting a mind-numbing experience. I guess I never really noticed the movement in the treeline till I was just mear inches from it."

The room was silent in her momentary pause. She had captured their attention now. "I would not lie. If a doll could be made creepy, it was then. Because right in front of me was a doll of a lamb. One poorly made, I guess it had been made by a lamb if I were to think about it clearly now. Though at the time, it wasn't something we'd make. So, seeing it hanging from a string on its neck really freaked the hell out of me."

Keith's face contorted to confusion, as well as Thorn's. Both had been expecting her to scare them then. Valefar was more interested now. For her, this wasn't normal behavior of a sane person. This was the behavior of someone who genuinely wanted to get a reaction out of Ash.

"I don't really know how to explain it, so this might sound shitty. But just looking at that doll gave me this more unsettling feeling, like something, or someone was just trying to get my attention. I felt like I needed to quickly finish what I was doing there before anything else were to happen." She leans forward. "After a while, though, you can't ignore the eyes, bareing into you back."

The boys both tense up unsettled by the feeling. Being so invested that they themselves felt the pinpricks of goosebumps crawling around their backs. It felt so real to what Ash was saying, as if they actually did have eyes on their backs. Thorn's fur raised making him much larger that he truly was.

"Time didn't seem to go so fast anymore. Going back to a sail pase, as their was silence in the air around me. Nothing dared to make a sound other than me. Cross, wrap, bless, cross, wrap bless." They all seemed to be sitting on the edge ready for something, anything to happen. Uneasiness filled the air as if they were being circled by a predator.

"Snap... I broke one of the sticks." She hangs on the eerie silence. "It's next to me now. I can feel its breath down the side of my neck. But I dare not to look. Don't look Don't-"

"WhErE's My HeAd~" The deeper, monotone, broken voice of a half awake grumpy Lamb comes just beside Thorn and Keith. Causing both to scream in pure terror and scrabble out of the temple. A very shocked and scared Valefar was dragged out by her hairbairned boyfriend. All this just cracked the fox up.

She heard the Lamb coming out of their hiding spot within the temple before. Where exactly that was, she didn't even care. It was just convenient for her to scare the others to bed. She'd been laughing hysterically at her peers. She looked over to the Lamb in her fit of laughter.

They were smiling rather amused as well from the whole interaction. "Having fun there, my dear?" They stepped into the light, the red glow around their mouth and eyes flipping back into their natural look. Though lately after the first bishop's death, their eyes have been slowly turning more red by the day.

"Very my Lamb. It's about time we headed to bed. Thank you for helping them to bed."

There was silence as the Lamb watched her from where she sat. She was suddenly very glad that she was a black fox, as she could feel embarrassment crawling at her.

"....Rest here for the night. It'll keep them in bed." They move over the the podium. Opening up the side and pulling out a few blankets and bags of wool as pillows. "Plus, you look like you're about to pass out right here and now. So bedrest is in order." They smile at her seemingly to be completely unaware of her embarrassment.

"Thank you, my L-"

"Max.... my name is Maximum, but call me Max."

"Thank you, Max." She smiles softly up to them, glad to see them opening up, even a little bit.

[minniethemoocherda]

Nobody’s Fool

Summery: Swindle meets up with his old teammates The Combaticons to convince them to help rescue his brother.

A/N: I love the Combaticons so I'm really hoping we get to see Swindle team up with his old teammates in season 2! Xxxxxxx

Ao3: 

It had been months since Swindle had last set eyes of the derelict warehouse his fellow Combaticons were forced to call home. It was nothing compared to the all inclusive high-rise the mercenaries used to enjoy before the war; but hey from Swindle's perspective anything was better than prison.

Swindle rehearsed his apology speech in his head as he tried to pick the lock. To be honest he was slightly annoyed that Onslaught must have changed it.

Like, sure he could have left them a note, but it wasn't his fault that Hardtop dropped by unannounced. And yeah Swindle could have invited him in but the last time the Combaticons had interacted with his brother, Brawl had ripped his arm off and Vortex had tried to frag him so really it was better for everyone that Swindle did the job with Hardtop all by himself.

Also it wasn't like he had a choice. It was either split what should have been a trailer full of energon between two people or between five. It was just simple mathematics. They can't blame him for that!

Besides he'd done worse. The time he'd sold them as spare parts to the devil (Starscream) unhelpfully springing to mind.

It wasn't long before the lock sprung open, and Swindle tiptoed inside.

Hopefully most of his former teammates would be out, leaving only one or two behind that he could convince to not kill him and help him get his brother back.

"And where have you been?"

Scrap.

Swindle's wide eyes adjusted to the dim light to see Onslaught stood in the entrance, arms folded across his broad chest.

The rest of their team were gathered around him. At his right hand side as always was Blast-Off who placed his hands on his hips, after elbowing Brawl for giving him an oblivious wave. On his other was Vortex who flashed Swindle a grin as sharp as the knife in his servos which wasn't exactly an unusual sight but it had been while since it had been directed at Swindle.

"Oh hey Onsie! Didn't see you there! Which is hard because it's hard not to notice you. Have you been using that new polish I got you?" Swindle rambled, apology disappearing from his mind as he automatically turned on the charm. Which was admittedly not one of his smarter plans as now Blast-Off was sending him death glares.

"You mean the polish you stole from Blast-Off and re-gifted to me?" Onslaught asked which from anyone else might have come across as a joke, but there was no trace of humour in their leader's voice.

"Yeah that one! I mean I didn't steal anything! And even if I did, Blast-Off doesn't mind. I know he appreciates how the polish makes your rivets shine." Swindle said, pointing to Blast-Off who's rose tinted face was now actively looking anywhere but their leader. Which come on! How was it his fault that Blast-Off's crush on their leader made him as easy to manipulate as stealing rust sticks from a sparkling.

"You believe that futile flattery makes up for six months of absence?" Onslaught demanded.

"No of course not! Which is why I'm offering you something much more valuable." Swindle said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Me."

Onslaught raised an unimpressed optical ridge which was rude to say the least.

"Look as the humans say, here's the coffee." Swindle said, putting on his best salesman voice. His teammates were near immune to it at this point but for the sake of his brother it was still worth a try. "Hardtop was captured by the Autobots, so I figured we could use Bruticus to bust him out."

"And why would we help you rescue the brother that you abandoned us for in the first place?"

"Money."

Onslaught stalled. It was a small movement, barely more than a clenching of his gears. Not something an ordinary bot would notice. But Swindle had literally been inside his leaders head. At this point he didn't need to be a master con-man to recognise his tells.

If there was one word you could use to describe Onslaught it was proud. And scrounging by in their derelict warehouse after once leading the most revealed mercenaries on Cybertronian was not something for the bot to be proud of.

Something which money could fix.

"Soundwave is offering the remainder of the Deception funds to anyone willing to assist in a mass break out." Swindle explained. "So not only do we get Hardtop, we also get to rescue an entire armies worth of customers."

By the brightening of his optics, Swindle knew Onslaught was interested.

Unfortunately Onslaught had something Swindle did not.

Dignity.

Brawl didn't have enough modular cells to hold a grudge and Vortex was up for anything that potentially involved mass murder. The pair were already wearing matching grins of glee at the idea.

But it didn't matter what they thought as allowing a bot who had openly disobeyed him back onto his team without retribution wasn't something that Onslaught's pride would concede.

No, Onslaught and Blast-Off were the ones he really had to convince. Swindle needed to convince one of them because as much as the other would never admit it, they would follow whatever the other decided. And although he would never tell them with words, he did really want his place back on the team. For as much as Swindle often... well swindled his teammates, he did love to be apart of the Combaticons.

"Hardtop used to be a sniper for the elite guard before the war." For a week before they fired him due to him taking money to assassinate the then Prime but his point still stands. "Rescue him and I can get him to join our team permanently."

Swindle could tell Onslaught and Blast-Off were thinking the offer over. Their optics flashed as they both shared a look. Even before the group had combined, those two had always had a way to communicate with just a look. Usually over how bad to reprimand one of their team after they'd done something particularly stupid.

"If we had a sniper, we could complete assassinations that Bruticus was too big of a distraction to carry out." Blast-Off suggested and Swindle couldn't help the smile that spread across his faceplate knowing that he'd just sealed the deal.

"Fine." Onslaught relented, pointing a large digit towards Swindle. "But you're also on cleaning duty for the next millennia. And don't try to trick Brawl into doing it for you."

"Anything you say boss!"

He was definitely going to trick Brawl into doing the cleaning for him.

[florbelles]

3, 17, 23, 29, 38 for lyra and joseph in the bunker? :3

oh my god.

III. WHAT WAS THEIR FIRST IMPRESSION OF EACH OTHER?

in the bunker? what was their first impression in the bunker? "oh good she's awake" and "what the fuck why am i alive did this bitch not let me burn with the old world like i SPECIFICALLY requested disrespecting MY judgment of myself. unbelievable"

XVII. HOW WELL DO THEY COMMUNICATE? ARE THEY OPEN WITH THEIR FEELINGS/THOUGHTS OR MORE RESERVED? WHY?

(cw: self harm)

uh. the first year they do not communicate At All because lyra is comatose aside from that time he came out to find her slicing her face open to feel something and he tries to stitch her back up but she just sits there silently smiling creepily at him the whole time and he's like haha. um. maybe she can go back to staring at the wall actually that's fine. after a year the voice comes back and lyra was shuffling through the room in the ratty ass plane coat she hasn't taken off in twelve months but she just takes one look at him and Knows and when joseph comes to again with a migraine factory reset lyra is sitting across from him showered & dressed and smoking with a coffee mug waiting for him so. they understand each other well enough to communicate extremely well even when they're not technically communicating. once lyra has returned to as close to her former self as she ever will a year in they're back to normal. they've always been fairly open (lyra has always been more apt to overshare and less likely to pry if she senses he doesn't want to get into something) but now there is Literally Nothing Else to Do so. not particularly reserved. no.

XXIII. WHAT ARE THE DEFINING CHARACTERISTICS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP?

the same as it always has been. united by varying degrees of Suffering as God's Chosen. the only ones, potentially, who understood each other in that respect. the only ones left of their family.

XXIX. DESCRIBE THEIR NIGHTTIME ROUTINE.

bold of you to think they know when the fuck night is. try to write about what's happened. try to write about what's going to happen. count the hours until they can confidently make another mark on the wall. discuss any stray detail of their childhood they haven't talked to death yet.

XXXVIII. WHO’S GOT A QUICKER TEMPER?

you're asking me who has a quicker temper. between lyra wrathy mcwrathtits. and joseph. ok glossing over the obvious initial hostility she has towards him not leaving her to die like she wanted, which she can only in good conscience resent fleetingly since she ultimately concludes her desire to die instead of rebuilding with the rest of the flock was a selfish one, regardless of her reasoning, she only actually becomes angry with him once. he is trying, in fact, to be helpful. he tells her that it was not her fault john died. that it was john's sin that made him try to take ill-taken vengeance for her presumed death. she doesn't say a word. she simply looks at him. it is the only time he is ever afraid of her.

[ahsokathegray]

I Bleed the Same || Fifteen

Pairing: Rexsoka

Summary: Ahsoka and Rex try and make sense of who and what they are after Order 66 occurs. Figuring out what to do with themselves, they remain together for a period of time before parting in their own directions.

Warnings: slow burn, mentions of Order 66, ptsd, injury, death, and future nsfw situations

Word Count: 3,557

A/N: happy new year! this chapter includes prayer to the Force that I literally made up so be warned if that might cause any triggers

read on ao3! / series masterlist

Ahsoka thought that, somehow, if she refrained from acknowledging it or speaking about their deaths out loud, that it would cease to be true. But the truth was that they had died. They were gone, along with everything and most everyone she’d ever known. Rex stood in front of her, continuing to mull over what she’d just told him. He had known about Anakin and Padmé just as she had. 

How he knew exactly was yet to be revealed to her, but then again, any being with eyes could see that there was something between them. Kriff, any being without eyes could probably put two and two together. 

She placed the pain in a bottle and shoved it to the far reaches of her mind. Amongst everything that has happened, that was the most tragic, the most devastating pill to swallow. 

Shaeeah and Jek squealed nearby, drawing enthusiastic noises from her banged-up droid as he continued to wheel over the grass, flattening the green blades as he chased them in circles. She could easily drown in their laughter, put herself in some muddy Lawquane boots and assume a life that wasn’t her own, if all it meant was that she could forget. But the laughter stopped, the sun rose higher, and several voices called out to them, announcing from around the house that breakfast was being served. 

Rex waited for her to make the first step, wanting to make sure she was okay before surrounding themselves with people again. He looked down, watching as her thumb swiped across her arm in a back and forth soothing motion. There was some hesitation in her expression, but Ahsoka drew a shaky breath and did her best to do what Rex had done just earlier. She was a hollow shell, encasing the shards of her former identity within, but appearing as such was not an option. Their hosts were gracious, but she refused to be a burden, refused to weigh them down with such despair. The Lawquanes hadn’t asked them to come here, she and Rex had just happened on their doorstep. 

They made their way around the small home with reluctance, Rex staying close on her heels. He realized that, despite not being in a war zone, he was watching her six anyway. Old habits do die hard. If she broke, he vowed to be there to catch the pieces. He’d made note of several animals making noises around them during their time outside, ears perking at each different one. Most were small, a few more were larger. The Captain paid attention to the changes in tone, if it echoed, or if it stopped short. 

R7 chirped at their return and Suu beamed at them. The kind woman brushed away a spot of dirt from her son’s nose and proceeded to fix beverages. Cut was pouring something into a series of bowls, a colorful apron hanging around him loosely, small painted handprints decorating the hem. 

Suu held a drinking glass in her hand and addressed them, “What would you two like to drink?”

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder at Rex, who had yet again donned his convincing facade, and he asked what they had to offer. Cut served something wrapped to his children and responded before his wife could speak, “Suu makes a mean meiloorun juice, the kids can’t get enough of it. But we also have water, green milk, and Rex, we do have some Tihaar if you’re interested.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Rex laughed at his brother’s joke, “It’s pretty early. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer later. Water will do just fine for now, Suu.”

“The same for me as well, please,” Ahsoka responded, to which the woman smiled appreciatively, pouring both of their drinks and setting them at the table. They approached where Suu had placed their beverages, indicating to them which seats were theirs to take. Rex hesitated, wondering if it was considered polite household manners to pull Ahsoka’s chair out for her. 

She beat him to the action before he could decide if he needed to and took his seat next to her. Cut’s kids were fidgeting relentlessly in their chairs, with Jek attempting to steal a bite from, what they learned was, his nexu wrap. Cut gave the boy a glaring eye that only a parent could produce and Jek snatched his hand back into his lap. Two bowls of nine-egg stew were placed in front of them and Ahsoka’s face lit up, making a move for her utensil. Suu and Cut joined them at the table and the children reached for their hands, taking them in their own, smaller ones. Their parents followed the action, then holding their free hands out for Rex and Ahsoka to take. 

Hesitantly, Rex took his brother’s hand and Ahsoka took Suu’s. This hadn’t been a part of the last meal he’d had with the Lawquane family.

“Do either of you participate in prayer?” Suu asked softly. They lightly shook their heads no. The woman smiled despite their answer, looking to her husband and then back to the strays in front of them, “That’s alright. The Ashla considers us all as her children.”

The family then closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Rex glanced to where Ahsoka sat next to him. The corners of her lips twitched and she held her hand out between them, offering it for him to take. He should’ve closed his eyes, followed their adopted customs out of respect, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Ahsoka. Her eyes swam with precariousness, looking to him for answers. Rex didn’t have any to give her. She then closed her eyes, following the lead of their hosts, and bowed her head. Rex couldn’t help but gaze at her in awe, developing a deep appreciation for how her lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks.

Suu led the prayer, “Almighty Ashla, we thank you for our many blessings. We ask that you bless this meal as you have blessed this family. We are your selfless servants and ask that you help us to embody your peace as we walk and till the dirt. Help our friends to find balance in these uncertain times and direct them back to the calmness of their centers. Thank you for protecting them and allowing them to share this meal with us today.”

Rex couldn’t find it in him to hang onto the words of Suu’s prayer, his undivided attention set solely on the Togruta next to him, gently holding onto his hand, an orange thumb pressing into his knuckles from under the gauntlet. He stole this moment for himself, not interested in giving it to the Ashla. He noted how Ahsoka’s full lips parted slightly, moving with each passing of breath. Her irises moved under her closed lids, unfocused but participating anyway. The two lekku that rested on her chest rose and fell evenly as a calmness washed over her. He imagined that Force users had a connection to this kind of thing that he nor the Lawquanes would ever know.

He should’ve died, but she saved him. He shouldn’t have been alive to continue witnessing her grace, but she deemed him somehow worthy in sharing her breath. 

The Twi’lek continued, “Thank you for keeping this family under your watchful eye. We humbly ask for your knowledge to navigate the uncharted territory of this emerging threat calling itself the Empire. Above all else, we ask you to remind us this: I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” everyone but Rex and Ahsoka repeated in unison. 

Ahsoka gave an obligatory smile to the family when the prayer closed and eyes were reopened. The last part sounded familiar to him. Rex tore his fixed gaze from her and back to his bowl. Ahsoka picked up her utensil once more, realizing that she hadn’t had a warm meal since… She didn’t even know when. Rex’s last warm meal had been even further back, relying mostly on the flavorless ration bars of the Republic. Cut had prepared nine-egg stew for breakfast, a favorite of Ahsoka’s from the time she was just a youngling. It was an ancient Jedi dish, passing through generations and trickling into the homes of regular people just as the religion of the Force had done. 

Perhaps the Ashla was delivering her some blessings after all. Ahsoka paced herself, her hunger returning in full force after nearly a week of absence. Grief and ration bars had a funny way of making one forget the comfort that a warm meal could bring. The Captain ate slowly next to her, but she knew if it was just the two of them that they’d both have been finished by now, pouring seconds into their empty bowls. 

A tinge of hope had gathered within her during the prayer. It hadn’t been for herself, but for the Lawquane family, for other families out there just like them. For the first time in days, she’d felt the light of the Force within her veins again, surging before it dissipated altogether. Ahsoka had distanced herself from it. With Suu praying and her own hand wrapped in the heat of Rex’s, his eyes not leaving her once, she almost welcomed it back. It was freeing, but her doubt and mistrust bit it off before it could fool her again, lure her in with its tempting, but false sense of security. 

Shaeeah and Jek finished first, wanting nothing more than to hurry up and continue playing with their new friend. R7 rocked back and forth on the doorstep, beeping at them as they ran past him and back into the yard. Cut laughed as they took off and turned his attention to Rex, a scrupulous observation in his eyes, “What happened to your pauldron? Another droid take the infamously feared Captain Rex down?”

Rex swallowed and glanced down, “Yeah, infamous to the clankers. But no… Not this time. This one I got from a shiny, believe it or not. Only got me because Ahsoka and I were under such heavy fire.”

It was unrelenting, hate-fueled fire, meant to kill with no remorse or guilt when the job was done. 

“Order 66?” Cut clarified, chewing. 

“Yeah… We were lucky to get away with our lives. The both of us should have died.”

“I’m sorry,” Cut amended, “I won’t ask you to talk about it. That hole there just reminds me of the one that brought you to us the first time — near about the same place too, the same piece just about — it was gonna leave you with one nasty scar if I remember.”

“Yeah, the irony there wasn’t lost on me,” Rex cracked a grin, “My patch job isn’t pretty but it works for now.”

“Let’s say we get you into the barn again when you finish up. I’ve got something in there that will have this lookin’ brand new.”

Ahsoka sat confused, “I didn’t know that, Rex.” He had gotten shot down by a droid? Leaving him with a decent enough scar to show for it? She bit her cheek, moving her spoon around in the empty bowl. He’d been injured when he’d happened upon Cut and his family. She supposed that near scrapes with death caused one to have a heightened sense of clarity. Perhaps that’s why he never turned his brother over as a deserter.

Suu cleared her throat, “Now that the kids are gone… I’m afraid I have to tell the two of you some unfortunate news. There was a body in the market this morning… The kids didn’t see. A squad of clones were escorting the gurney onto a ship.” Cut held his wife’s hand as she spoke the words, having heard the news when she’d first arrived back at the house. She kept on, “The Ashla sent you to us at the exact right time. Everything you’ve told us confirms what I saw. I believe the body was that of a Jedi.”

Rex sighed defeatedly, “There’s a storm headed for us all, and it’s not just gonna stop at Saleucami. It’s coming for the entire galaxy. This whole thing was designed — calculated — by a Sith Lord. There’s not going to be anything slow or merciful about it. You need to get off-world sooner rather than later.”

Ahsoka felt small. They weren’t safe here. Saleucami was supposed to be a haven, even if it was a temporary one. She supposed those undisturbed corners of the universe would now all have their peace interrupted. 

The Jedi that died here had either escaped the initial barrage of blaster bolts, or fell during and the body was only now being recovered. Either way, another Jedi had joined the growing list of the executed. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have no other choice,” Cut responded, pursing his lips before standing, “Let’s give that poor patch job a proper fix, brother.”

Rex stood to join him and pushed his chair in, following the man outside to the barn. 

Suu winked at Ahsoka and picked up her bowl, “Give me a hand?”

“Of course,” Ahsoka replied, gathering her and Rex’s bowls and walking to the sink, watching as the two men crossed the wide yard. The bowls were rinsed, as well as the plates the children ate off of. Ahsoka dried her bowl with a towel, looking out of the viewport at the world around her. A wake of native buzzards flew overhead, signaling that something had recently passed on nearby. Death was all around as it always was, happening everywhere, everyday. Growing up, she used to think that creatures who feasted on the dead were something of a bad omen, but Master Plo had taught her otherwise. 

The observant woman next to her placed a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, “He’s alright. My husband’s just trying to get his mind off of all that has occurred.”

The Togruta relaxed at the older woman’s touch, “It’s just… We haven’t been apart since everything happened. I was resting the only times he’s gone off and he waited for me while I paid my respects to a friend… but now it just feels…”

“Wrong?” Suu asked. 

Ahsoka nodded, eyes fixed on her Captain as he disappeared inside the barn. Her eyes caught the image on the datapad lying on the counter, with an article still pulled up. The last thing Cut had been reading showed the Jedi Temple, a large trail of thick black smoke billowing from it. 

~~~

The barn door creaked open. It had, no doubt, seen better days. Cut shooed the eopies out from inside the rickety walls, releasing them from their pens and into the open. Morning light flooded into the old barn and Rex followed his brother inside. He took it all in, finding where the boys laid him down to tend his wounds all those years ago, “It looks just how I remember it.”

“Well, what’d you expect?” Cut laughed, propping the barn door open. 

Rex pressed his lips into a thin line and unclipped his pauldron, shrugging out of the bulky piece of armor. He turned it over in gloved hands, inspecting his work once more in different lighting. Cut outstretched his hand and Rex gave the piece over to him. His brother inspected it as well, feeling around at the patch job. “You just did this,” he observed. 

“I did. Needed something to keep my hands busy,” Rex admitted. 

Cut shot his brother a smirk, humming in response and taking the damaged armor to his work bench. An overhead setla lamp was switched on to shine more light on the area. “Right,” he responded, reaching for the appropriate tools, “And your Jedi, you two go way back… Through the whole war, huh?”

“She’s not exactly a Jedi anymore, though the men didn’t see it that way either. But no, Ahsoka wasn’t there from the start. Though, she was my Commander through the majority of the war,” Rex provided, looking over Cut’s shoulder as he began making repairs. 

“Last I checked…” Cut began, scrubbing the area of blaster burns, “Troopers aren’t supposed to look at their CO’s that way.”

The rigidity in Rex’s already-perfect posture increased, his blood running hot. He stammered defensively, “Now Cut, I—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her… just as I saw the way you looked at my family on your last visit. Call it a gift. Tell me Rex, did you heed my words and start to consider your life outside of the war? A present where you were free to choose the life you wanted. Perhaps a present where she wasn’t your CO, wasn’t a Jedi, wasn’t something you couldn’t have? Now that the war’s over, you don’t really have a choice but to face the fact that all those little things that were once some intangible fantasy have now all become a very possible reality. Don’t you want something more?”

Rex’s brows pinched together, eyes frantically searching his brother’s knowing expression. He shook his head anyway, denying the accusations, “No. You’re wrong. I would never betray my Commander like that.”

Ahsoka wasn’t something to be had. 

Cut laughed and continued with his handiwork, smoothing where the blaster bolt had exited, “Am I? Looks to me like I got in your head last time around. Think about it, a life like this, you and her calling a real place home, choosing not to fight for once in your life. Come with us when we leave.”

Rex chewed on his brother’s words. In truth, he had thought of it. Both then and now, he’d imagined what his life would be like when the war finally ended — what he would’ve chosen had the opportunity been given to him. The evil he couldn’t well imagine had revealed itself, now completely and inescapably imaginable. A few years ago, he had still believed in fighting for the cause that he was bred for. He had still considered his role one of importance, part of a greater force for good, part of the most pivotal moment in the history of the Republic. After Ahsoka left… that had all ceased to be relevant. There was no longer anything simple about it, his reason for fighting was gone, slipping quietly through his fingers before he knew she was gone.

He thought back to how he had tried to deny any thoughts on assigned numbers and chosen names to Cut, how his brother hadn’t bought a word of it. I’m as close to you as any lifeform can be. Cut saw through him then, and still did now, as he attempted to deny wanting a life with the young woman who used to be his Commander. 

“I can practically hear those gears turning,” Cut teased, turning back to Rex’s pauldron. 

Rex was dumbfounded, flayed, exposed to the emotion he so desperately tried to conceal. If Cut could see it, could she? He exhaled in annoyance, setting his jaw. For a moment longer, he indulged in Cut’s painted picture. He imagined giving in to his basest need for her, confessing the words that he shouldn’t, making himself more vulnerable to her than he had aboard the Tribunal, holding her in his arms when he wanted, taking her lips in his. Rex pictured them in a homestead, making nine-egg stew, tending the crops, caring for eopies, caring for children, sleeping in the same bed… Not fighting the fight. 

He couldn’t do that, couldn’t have that, even if the war had ended. He was still a clone, a deserter now himself. He was a threat to the Empire as much as the Empire was a threat to him. Sitting idly by was never going to be an option, having what Cut had was never in his cards. Ahsoka would always be an ex-Jedi, the target on her back just as big as the one on his. 

It was a nice image, in truth, but it was never a possibility. They would never reach a nirvana of this degree. The Lawquanes, as untouched as they were, would still have to relocate again and again to maintain their safety from the tyranny of the government. He wondered if it had been like this the whole time, civilians fleeing their homes in attempts to escape the  Republic and the Confederacy alike — seeking to sleep in a bed somewhere that didn’t have the sound blasters firing outside their homes. 

The image of Ahsoka sharing his bed was shoved away, bringing him back to reality. 

“Here you go,” Cut finished, handing him back the repaired piece of armor, “Good as new.”

Rex admired his brother’s craftsmanship, “Can’t even tell the rakeweed got me. Thanks. I owe you one, Cut.” He clipped the piece back into place and rolled his arm to make sure it sat properly. 

Cut wiped his hands on the leg of his pants, stored away his tools and switched the light back off. He clapped Rex’s shoulder, “Consider us even… So long as you take my advice. If you’re gonna continue denying it, at least try to make it more convincing. Your eyes are what give you away.”

The Captain scowled and felt his eyes roll, no doubt a bad habit he’d picked up from Ahsoka. 

[talkintomytv]

Finally checked out the 2019 Dark Phoenix movie! I actually had more fun with this one than I thought I would! I really liked how everyone was using their abilities in action. The music was incredible and It is always a delight to watch Charles and Erik doing whatever.

Is it just me though or was this "Everyone be a Jerk to Charles," The movie? Sure he was super prideful of his accomplishments this round but thats all he was.

Raven, in the previous film, said to the former students "You're not kids anymore your X-Men!" Then in Dark Phoenix, she snaps at Charles saying "You put those kids in danger!" When he wasn't willing to leave one of the humans behind. She said things to him like "We're risking our people to save theirs!" Or "I can't actually remember when you were the one risking something," Which is so wild to me because Charles always said that people with power should protect the people without. He's even used Apocalypse to broadcast that sentiment to the world and The X-Men are literally a team who have chosen to train their abilities specifically so they can be the ones to stand in between the people and the danger. And Raven really can't remember the last time Charles sacrificed anything? There's a major clue sitting right in front of her.

Then everyone started treating Charles like a monster for placing psychic barriers around Jean's memories like he isn't the kind of person who would help her train with her abilities until she was proficient enough and wouldn't be a danger to lower them. Hank had the nerve to say "You messed with the mind of an 8-year-old girl and you still can't see what you did wrong!" She was an 8-year-old girl whose tantrums have the power to atomize people! His method to help her control her powers was solid! Then all that space stuff obliterated the barriers in her mind all at once which was nobody's fault! Like Hank was saying "Just say you were wrong! You can't even say it can you?" for messing with the mind of an 8-year-old but then thinks it totally okay to track down Jean with Erik so they can put her down for good. The hypocrite! She's only 20! Then Charles still apologizes to them for his behavior. Like at most the worst thing he did was lie to Jean about her past when she started asking but she was also doped up on space junk so it's not that weird that Charles would be thinking "Perhaps now is not the time to be talking about this," We don't see Hank apologizing for trying to have Jean killed.

Yeesh! Then don't even get me started on Jean using her telekinetic abilities to make Charles, A paralyzed man, walk like a puppet. And even after that humiliation, and killing of his foster sister, causing enough public displays of destruction to fan the fear of mutants even further he's still like You are loved! Come home! You are not lost there is still hope! We can still fix this!

Then he even gives up the school! The only thing he has left that he loves the most. So everyone can feel safe from him. What do they need protection from? His overwhelming empathy and heightened perception that guides them all to the people who need help the most?

Wild. He's not a perfect being and I know he's had troublesome behaviors throughout comics over the years but Fox's depiction of the character across 12 er so films has only ever been that of a kind man and I love him!

It was a Fun movie! I'll probably watch it again sometime but I am genuinely sad this is where they chose to end it for these iterations of the characters. It seems like Charles never really had any major feats of his own and they only ever beat him up and put him through the ringer just to show how powerful someone else is. I kind of want to write my own story for Charles and give him a cool and big "superhero saves-the-day" kind of moment. Sprinkle in a bit of Magneto Angst because you can't have one without the other. I'm not too well-versed in all the comic lore so I would just be making it all up from scratch. I wonder if anyone would be into it? I mean that's how all comics came to be in the first place, right? I'm assuming no one has read this post this far in so if you're here Wow! You're really amazing! Thank you for listening! I'm just rambling now. Ah well, I'd be into a story like that! And I'm having so much fun thinking about it so that's reason enough to start one!