#Was she frozen stiff in grief or because she knew she couldn’t move with emotion unless Floch figured it out

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 15

A/N ...and a conclusion.

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

I didn’t move for a moment, frozen in stiff shock. That couldn’t be true. Jonah had been helping me this whole time…coming over when I called and helping me leave the state…

I slowly tucked the papers into a neat stack with realization and turned casually out the passenger side window, trying to wrap my head around what I just pieced together. I hoped it wasn’t true. I prayed to whatever God above that it wasn’t true. I felt like I was going to be sick. My wife was dead in the trunk of my car and the hand who did it to her was driving me two states over on the run. There was nothing around us for miles so it’s not like I could run for help if I wanted to and even still…would I want to call the cops on my best friend? He didn’t when we thought it was me. But yet, everything he ever said to be the prior twenty-fours hours had been complete lies to set me up into believing this trap.

He had been all too calm.

Jonah sang softly from beside me, the music playing quietly through the car as we drove down the desert highway. He had his sunglasses on and his hat, shading his face from the sun and from me. I couldn’t look at him without wanting to be sick with dread.

“Jonah.” I finally spoke shakily.

“Yeah?” he answered innocently.

I kept my eyes out the side window, curling the corner of the letter under my finger nervously as I fought with myself to confront him. My leg was shaking and I pressed my hand down on my thigh to try and calm the habit. He turned down the music and I could feel him glancing over at me a few times before focusing back on the road. I took a small inhale before whispering to the window, “You did it, didn’t you? You killed her.”

There was a silence. A suffocating tense silence that pressed down on my chest until I swear I was going to choke. The music turned off and the only sounds for miles was the desert winds whooshing past the car. I closed my eyes tightly and resting my fist against my mouth in anticipation for his reply. His hesitation only made it worse.

“Tell me the truth, Jonah.” I ordered as strongly as I could but even I could hear my voice shaking. “What was this letter about?”

Jonah’s hands gripped tighter to the wheel and I heard him let out a strong sigh, “She just blocked my number.”

“Why did she block you?”

A pause.

“Jonah.”

“Because I was in love with her, bro.”

That certainly got my attention. I whipped my head around to look at him, eyes furrowed in his direction, “The fuck do you mean you were in love with her?”

“I loved her. And you were a shitty fucking husband, dude.” Jonah tisked. He adjusted the blue cap on his head, “I could have treated her so much better than you and I told her that but she didn’t like that.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I processed the information my best friend was telling me. I turned back out the window and watched the desert speed past us along the empty highway.

“But did you kill her?” I repeated my initial question.

There was a pause.

His silence was my answer.

“You did.” I breathed.

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Don’t freak out? Jonah, what the- what the fuck-”

Jonah huffed as if I was being a complete vexation. God, dear reader, I didn’t know what to think. I tried to form some sort of response, some sort of sentence to figure out why to did it but my lungs had abandoned me and I could only muster a few random panicked words.

“Why- I just- You- She- I- Why- Why did you- Oh my God- Jonah-”

The car slowed down as Jonah pulled onto the dusty dirt shoulder of the freeway. I glanced back at him as he put my car in park and got out, his jaw clenched stiffly and his face stone. I watched him step to the back door and he tugged his bag towards him before shuffling through it and right to the bottom. My chest was heaving with emotion and I swear I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Neither of us spoke.

And I especially didn’t when I saw the pistol he pulled from his bag.

He slammed the backdoor and walked around the car to my side, angling the gun right towards me through the window, “Get the fuck out.”

I froze.

“Get the fuck out of the car, Daniel.” Jonah repeated darkly.

My trembling hand found the handle and I stumbled out of the car and into the hot desert heat, the papers dropping to the floor of the car and the two cell phones and the denim jacket tumbling out onto the hot sand. The buzz of insects could be heard faintly in the distance between the dry patches of grass that dotted the landscape behind Jonah and beyond the paved highway. I raised my hands up slowly, not taking my eyes off my best friend and the gun in his hand.

“Jonah…” I spoke slowly, cautiously.

This had to be a fucking dream.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.” Jonah said darkly, his voice shaking with emotion.

“We can work something out.” I assured him quietly, now just trying to save my own life.

“Shut up.”

I swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to my cell phone that had fallen beside the feet in my haste to get out of the car.

“Don’t.” Jonah lunged forward and I gasped as he grabbed my arm and yanked me around so he was standing between the car and myself, giving me a shove away. His aggression made me stumble over my feet and the slight decline off the side of the highway shoulder and I fell backwards on the desert ground.

Have you ever joked around with your best friend about loving them so much you’d take a bullet for them? Cruelest twist of fate of my fucking life.

I stared up at Jonah from where I was splayed out on the ground, staring into the end of the pistol and the reflection of my own face in his sunglasses.

“I loved her.” Jonah said sharply. “I loved her more than you did.”

“Jonah…”

He cut me off, “I-I told her not to marry you! I told her you’re too in love with music to give a shit about her but she didn’t listen. I had to prove it to her so I sent you all that work to look over on your honeymoon. I’m not a fucking idiot, Daniel, I could have done it myself; but she had to see that you would put her second to your work if it came to it. Dumb woman didn’t even care. Not even when I met you at home after your flight and spoke to her in the studio that night and gave her all the proof that I loved her more than you.”

Jonah tisked distastefully and shook his head.

“You fought so loudly in there I could have sworn it was over…that you two were over…but she told me that she…that she loved you more than anyone in the whole goddamn world no matter what and I could never come close.”

I felt my chest tighten at that, tears choking me up in the back of my throat as he spoke of her last words and her last moments.

“We could have been happy together, she and I. I could have given her a nice fucking life. I fucking hated seeing her with you…especially seeing how fucking miserable you treated her. So I told her…if she didn’t want me, she couldn’t have anyone.” Jonah said through his teeth. “And she tried to run. And she set off the security alarm but I am the only other person outside of your family who knows the code to turn the alarm off and delete the tapes. It’s her birthday. Of course, I was going to remember her fucking birthday.”

I tensed at his confession, feeling the rough sand and heat of the desert burning through my skin and my clothes as I laid under his control.

“I knew where the knives were. I had this plan for weeks…ever since she first blocked my number before the wedding. She had one last chance to change her mind…to be happy with me and she blew it. And she begged for her life. And she cried for you. And I watched her sweet face fall into the hands of death like an angel.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that fell from my lips.

“Then you came out. You heard her scream so you came to check on her but I couldn’t let you see me so in the shadows I knocked you out on the side of the piano and left you there, setting up the perfect scene to make it look like you did it with no traces of my own. No security camera tapes, no unfamiliar fingerprints, nothing. And I could have gotten away with it if you…if you weren’t so…so fucking persistent.”

The pistol was trembling in his fist, still directed right at my face.

“Jonah.” I breathed shakily.

“My name is still clear though. You’re the only one who they’re looking for right now, especially after you just told Corbyn she was dead…Jack knows too. The cops are probably tracing your phone right now. They’re probably on their way to lock you the fuck up right now.” Jonah licked his lips and took a breath, “But you’re gonna talk.”

“N-No I won’t.” I rushed out. “I swear I won’t. W-We can set up someone else…we can figure it out, Jonah, I promise.”

Jonah cocked the gun and I scrambled a bit farther back over the coarse sand, scraping my skin over the gravel in my futile attempt to get away.

“Jonah, please, bro, I swear I’ll help you. I-I forgive you-”

“I don’t need your forgiveness.” Jonah walked down the slight embankment to where I was dropped back over the ground and he stood right over me until the sun was blocked by his body and cast a shadow over me.

He was my best friend in the world, my business partner, and we had gone through most of our lives together but looking at him in that moment, I didn’t even recognise him.

“Jonah.” I spoke slowly, cautiously, licking my dry lips under the scorching heat of the desert sun. “Please, bro. Please…we can work something out, I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up, Seavey.” Jonah snapped loudly, his voice nearly echoing across the vast expanse of bare land around us. He dropped his volume as if he was convincing himself, “Fuck it. At least this way I’ll get your shares of the label and a clean slate.”

He was breathing hard as he moved closer and stepped on my hands to keep me from moving, the toe of his designer shoes pressing light indents into the back of my hands as he pushed them against the rough ground. I leaned away from him and the stare of the pistol habitually, praying for any sort of miracle. The freeway was perfectly empty and there wasn’t a car in sight but my own. There was no way out of this.

I let my gaze linger on the closed trunk, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fall at the image of her tucked up like a science experiment in the equipment case. The dust was burning my eyes but I didn’t doubt that the drop that finally trickled down my cheek was an honest heartbroken tear.

If she cried for me, I was going to cry for her too.

“What a Romeo and Juliet love story.” Jonah spoke, his voice dripping in taunting darkness, as he bent down slowly over top of me.

The cold metal of the mouth of the pistol touching my forehead instinctively made my eyes close tightly. The pumping of my heart echoed in my ears and the scorching desert sun dripped sweat down my brow to mix in with the salty perspiration of fear.

“Daniel Seavey killed his wife…” Jonah pressed it harder there, enough to make a whimper fall from my throat, “and then killed himself.”

What do you think of in your last moments? People often say you see your life flashing before your eyes or you see a bright light but, for me, all I saw was Avalon.

Nearly twenty-four hours since I found her. Nearly forty since she died on my studio floor alone and in fear. My world died that night and the only positive that I could possibly reach for was that at least I wouldn’t live in a universe without her for too long.

And yet, thrown there on the side of the freeway with my best friend holding a loaded gun to my head, all I could think about was her. I could hear her laugh and feel the warm of her skin and I couldn’t wait to see her again; to be able to stroke her soft hair and smell her sweet perfume and to be able to tell her how much I really did lov

-(The End)-

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

#🔪 #im scared to post this #im second guessing everything #maybe this is stupid #daniel seavey #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Ch.1

Star Wars x Marvel crossover

A/N- Ayye so first chapter! I’m excited and nervous, but overall glad of how this turned out. I hope you guys like the chapter and let me know what you thought!!

Warning- talks of death, angst, fluff, light swearing. :(

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged)

———

It had been two years since The Resistance beat the evil First Order and Emperor Palpatine. Six months since the galaxy had finally come to a peace agreement, turning into a new great republic. Three months since Rey began building her new Jedi academy with your help and the help of your friends and...General Poe Dameron.

You weren’t a Jedi like Rey, or had a famous family name like her and Dameron, neither were you special in a sense that you bravely left the once First Order like your best friend Finn, but you were special in your own way, you made yourself known throughout the years of hard work. A once moisture farmer turned General, it took years to get to where you were and you were proud...and yet you felt like something was missing, like their was something else you needed to do in life. Perhaps that’s why you were helping Rey out, to finally complete that missing piece.

“Just a couple more months and the academy is going to be ready. All our hard work finally paid off.” Finn beamed as he overlooked the unfinished building from a green hill in Ahch-To.

You playfully shoved his shoulder with yours, “Okay well, Jedi Master if you don’t get back to work it’s never going to be finished.” Instead of moving along he sits on the grass.

Finn shakes his head, “I’m not a Jedi Master. Yet.”

“Oh so you’ve decided to live your life in celibacy, Jedi Master?” Dameron jokes as he joins Finn on the grass.

Finn fakes a laugh and uses the force to push Dameron to the ground, which said man only laughs off as he sits up once again. You roll your eyes and attempt to leave but Poe comments as he watches you leave, “Leaving so soon, sweetheart.”

“The sight of you just makes me want to punch you in the face.” You retort with a feigned smile. Poe chuckles and just flashes a grin. A grin that makes you scoff, and want to....well punch him in the face.

Poe Dameron and you had always been competitive against each other..maybe you more than him, but it’s all the same. He’s always gotten everything he’s wanted, his title of Captain, his title of Commander and then his title of General. All without barely even trying, just him and his stupid perfect smile. All while you had to bust your ass hour after hour. It wasn’t fair. You only tolerated him now because of Finn, Rey and Chewbacca.

And as if you had summoned them with your thoughts Rey and Chewbacca joined too, leaving the work that was supposed to be done, completely abandoned. You would have left if it weren’t for Chewbacca picking you up and sitting you down next to Finn.

“It’s not going to be like that anymore. Rey is making a new order. Different from the ones before.” Finn informed his friend. “But let’s not talk about that now, overall I think we’re working fine, all things considered.” Finn eyes shift from Dameron and you before sharing a look with Rey.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You quirk your eyebrow, making Finn instantly regret what he had said.

“Just, well...” Finn shrugs, his eyes flickering to Rey and Chewbacca for help, but receiving none, “Poe and you are always arguing about stupid things, you know.”

“I don’t start it.” Dameron argues, “it’s always princess here that likes to start—”

Your lips part and quickly you snap back, “Oh please! You’re the one that likes things too perfect, nothing is ever good—”

“No, that’s not true—”

Chewbacca roars loudly, cutting off whatever it was the General was going to say. As a response you let out an irritated huff before crossing your arms over your chest.

“See what you started, Finn.” Rey says cheekily. Finn only shakes his head and wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you to his side. You’re stubborn at first to ease into his hold, but ultimately do it, resting your head on his shoulder and making him smile.

“Better?” Finn whispers.

You roll your eyes in a lighthearted way and answer in the same whisper, “No.” But that’s also where you’re unaware of Dameron’s lingering gaze on you, one he forces away so you wouldn’t catch him.

“Pushing all that aside,” Rey begins, “I’m grateful for all of you helping me out with this. I know that without you guys none of this would happen, so thank you.”

You smile and nod, “what is a family for? We’re here every step of the way.”

Chewbacca roars in agreement, while BB8 chirps happily at her side. Rey’s grin widens and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Y/N’s right, we’re family, we’re here every step of the way.” Dameron agreed.

“They’re agreeing with each-other,” Finn pointed out happily, “that’s when you know it’s true.”

You scoff and push Finn to side playfully, and just as he was going to return the action he went stiff, his smile dropping completely and his eyes desperately looking around as he held onto his chest.

“Finn, are you okay?” You questioned him as your own smile began to slowly disappear.

Rey noticed Finn’s strange behavior and also called to him, her eyebrows knotted in confusion, “Finn? What’s—” then she too went rigid, cutting herself off as her eyes expressed a mix of panicked emotions. She tried to stand up, but she quickly began to lose balance and would’ve fallen if Chewbacca hadn’t caught her in time. “Some-something’s wrong.” She muttered.

Finn tried to play it off like it was nothing and pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet.

Dameron stood up too and extended his hand to help Finn, but said man only waved off his help, “I’m okay..it’s just—I got dizzy.”

Quickly you stood up to your full height and looked desperately between Finn and Rey who looked anything but fine. Carefully you approached Finn in perfect time to catch him as his legs gave out. “Finn what’s wrong?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I-I don’t know, I feel...” His breathing began to get heavy and panicked, “it’s—”

Finns words were cut off as Chewbacca called out in a low panicked growl. Dameron, Finn and you looked to him and saw as his arms were beginning to vanish, turning into dust and dropping Rey to the ground.

“Chewie?!” You screeched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked to his vanishing bottom half, whilst he roared out in confusion and fear. Dameron ran to him in attempts to help whatever it was that was happening, but as he reached the Wookiee his hands reached thin air as he vanished into nothing but dust in front of your eyes.

“Chewie?!” Rey sobbed.

“What-what the hell?!” Dameron questioned.

You stood frozen in place, unable to react to what had happened and only letting tears roll down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

Quickly you turned your head to Finn as he called out to you in a low voice. He looked to you and then down to his hands as he too started turning to dust.

“Finn! Buddy, what—No!” Dameron called as he ran to his friends side.

“No, no, no, no.” You kept repeating as you held onto him with a firm hold, like if doing that would help him from vanishing. Finn then fell to the ground, taking you down with him, his arms no longer around you as they vanished. He began to hyperventilate, looking between you and his other friends for help, tears rolling down his cheeks as he was utterly confused on what was happening. He said no words and just looked to you as he too vanished into nothing but dust, causing you to completely drop on the grass as the hold you had on him was gone.

In that moment of desperation you looked up to Dameron, but before either of you could comment, BB8 began to chirp frantically making you both turn to see Rey vanishing too. Instantly you rushed to her side, letting her take your hand as she cried quietly, her attempts to remain brave failing as her bottom half was vanishing.

“Stay strong, okay?” She whispered, as she held onto your hand tighter, her eyes turning to Dameron and smiling slightly like she had done with you, “the both of you.” Rey then looked up to the sky as the rest of her turned to dust.

Slowly you looked away from where she had been, letting out a shaky breath as your mind still couldn’t process what had happened. You had no answers, just questions, confusion and grief.

“Poe?” You quietly called out. He slowly pulled his gaze to you, both of you sharing the same lost and sad expression. “Wh-what happened?”

Poe shook his head, “I don’t know.”

—

The number of people missing throughout the galaxy was still unidentified, in fact their wasn’t anything The New Council knew for what had happened. People only have been running in and out of the briefing room since, Dameron and you came back to the capital. All of them like you still baffled, grief stricken and in-denial to the sudden vanishing.

The only thing you did know was that droids didn’t vanish, just all living forms, so at least you still had your astro-mech droid R2-D2. Besides that everyone you were really close with was gone, just turned to dust in front of you...well all except for Poe Dameron. He was here and you hated to think of such a thought but...you wished he had vanished instead of Finn. Were you horrible to think of such a thing? Yes. Yes you were, but he, well he just had a way to get on your nerves.

“Any new data on the vanished?” Commander Zuko asked you, making all eyes land on you as they waited for an answer, an answer you still didn’t have. One by the lack of reports and two, well your attention was not in this room, but on the image of your best friends vanishing in front of you. “General L/N. Reports.”

You snap your attention to the commander across from you, your eyes still red from the crying; “I-I don’t know.” You stammer.

“How do you not know? You’re a general and in charge of—”

“Commander Zuko, y/n..General L/N is obviously not in the right head space for any of this, take it easy.” Dameron quickly interrupted the commander, “neither of us are. What happened, was-was an unexpected tragedy.”

Commander Zuko shook his head, “A tragedy we need to figure out. Was it the First Order? Are they back again?”

Their had been more members on the council, like Finn for example, other people you liked and tolerated, but after this you were left with Commander Zuko, an officer two years older than you, and one of the the only remaining members that lived after the republic was killed years ago. He was a tall good looking man, with the darkest hair and dark eyes to match, but also with no patience at all. Which is why you didn’t tolerate him. You were left with the two people you didn’t. Yay...

“It’s not the first order.” You comment, “they’ve destroyed planets yes, but they wanted to take over the galaxy and the people. Not this.”

“Then could it be? Palpatine? The dark side?” Dameron questioned.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” You shrug. Commander Zuko stood from his chair and walked to the transipersteel, quietly standing there as he watched the sunset. Beautiful and vibrant. Orange, red and yellow hues, that basked your face and showed the long expression your face expressed, the planet showing a beauty that gave off a calming and happy energy that no one felt. The sight made you want to cry again, and you would have if Lieutenant Connix hadn’t walked in.

“We’ve found something!” She exclaimed as she set down a datapad on the table. “Crazy energy readings found that happened at the same time everyone vanished.” Commander Zuko slowly made his way beside her, stroking his chin as a map popped up.

“Where is that? It’s not any star charts or a system we know.” Dameron wondered as he slowly pushed himself off his chair.

You focused your gaze on the map and the planets orbiting surrounding the one sun, finding it unrecognizable.

“Yeah that’s what we figured out, but all the energy came from that single planet.” Lieutenant Connix pointed to the small planet and enhanced the view. “Whatever happened here is because of that single planet.”

“one planet.” Commander Zuko mused, “it’s so small.”

“And it seems to be the only inhabitable planet according to the readings.” Dameron pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter.” You start, feeling a new sense of confidence as you pulled your eyes off the holomap and focused on the people around the table, “however small the planet is, we’re going. We need answers for what they did.”

“And if the confrontation leads to war?” Dameron queried.

“Then so be it.” You respond sharply, “they killed my friends. My family. And everyone in our galaxy, so if it leads to war then they will have a war.”

Commander Zuko smirked and turned to you, “yes, General L/N is right, our galaxy has suffered long enough. We will get justice.”

“Their is still Final Order fleets that are intact.” Lieutenant Connix added with a hint of a smile, “we can use those.”

Dameron turned to meet your gaze and nodded in agreement, “we’re doing this for them. For the galaxy.”

You smiled softly, finally agreeing to something he said.

“For the galaxy.” You all repeated.

—

The silence of hyperspace was deafening, filled with tension that basked every fleet not just yours. No one talked and if someone did it was to pass instructions or information, everyone was too badly affected by what happened to do anything. You were surprised people even volunteered to a potential war, those who didn’t were tired of fighting, or just not in the headspace after watching people vanish before them.

Why were you doing it? For the family you lost...Finn, Rey and Chewbacca, to get justice for them and well it beat being in a galaxy without them, and it beat being alone with your trauma.

The sound of rolling droids pulled your attention off the blue and white view of the passing stars of hyperspace, to see artoo and BB8. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Hi boys, having fun?” You question with a forced smile. Artoo answers with complaining beeping, also making BB8 do the same. “We’re almost there. So that means no more long flying, promise.”

Artoo does a sound that mimics a long sigh before moving by your side, while BB8 pulls out something he was hiding...a black metal object.

Rey’s lightsaber.

You take it from the little droid and examine the weapon, sadness once again presenting itself within you. You continue by pulling your gaze back down to the droid and patting its head. “You’re right, it’s good you brought. It wouldn’t be safe if you left it behind, people get desperate in times like these. Who knows who could’ve taken it.”

BB8 responds by chirping sadly at the thought of his lost friend.

“Yeah, I miss her too.” You sigh, placing the lightsaber hilt on the table next to you as you hear approaching footsteps that belonged to Poe Dameron. You meet his gaze for a second before focusing it back on the view of hyperspace.

“We’re almost there. It’s time to prepare your squadron.” He informed you as he took a seat next you.

You responded with a shake of your head before sighing, “my squadron is all gone, I’m the only one left. I can’t be red leader without any pilots.”

Dameron hesitated, not knowing how to answer your upsetting response. “Uh well...ever since snap died I’ve been needing a black two. You can fill the spot if you want.”

“And be your second?” You grumble, “no thanks.”

Dameron rolled his eyes but decided not to shoot back with a snarky remark, and instead chose to be gentle with his words, “look I just don’t want you staying here in the ship when you can be down there facing some action. And well I don’t think I know a good negotiator as good as you, you’re good with people. We need that if we want to know what’s wrong.”

“You can do it, General Organa always preferred you for that stuff. She said I had a temper.” You responded dryly, with no emotion or usual amount of spunk that Poe Dameron was used to hearing.

All he heard was a broken person, that was also something rare to hear from you, even after being tortured by the first order you didn’t sound like this. But it was expected, after all you did see the people you cared about vanish in front of you. Rey, Chewie and...Finn...whatever he meant to you, Poe didn’t know, all he did know was that you two could mean more than friends to each-other or...meant. But Poe saw that all happen too and he didn’t—well if he was being honest he wasn’t okay either, but he didn’t show it in front of everyone like you did, no, you just didn’t care anymore, not like before.

Again that was expected, but all he wanted to hear was your usual need for action, the encouragement and determination, the usual and not needed competitive attitude you had towards him. But sadly none of that was showing...but he was going to try and make you feel that again.

Dameron sighed and quickly stood to his feet, walking to face you with determination, “you can still keep your title, no black two or any of that. I just need you to fly with me. I’ve known you for years now and I don’t trust anyone else but you. So be in command with me, let’s get these answers and justice for our friends, okay?”

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, showing a watery gaze, no smile but nodding in agreement nonetheless; “fine.”

—

“No shields, space stations, fleets or protective objects of any kind. Just...” you narrow your gaze on the floating satellites and scrunch your nose, “just satellites.”

“Yeah are you sure this is the planet?” Jessika Pava questioned curiously through the comms.

“This is it.” Dameron confirmed.

“I’ve got to give it to this planet though, it’s pretty,” Kare kun added as you all saw the mostly water covered planet.

“I guess,” you shrug, “I don’t trust it..” you trail off, “artoo, turn on all cannon blasters. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“We’ve got communication.” Commander Zuko reported in, “sending coordinates to the landing point, god speed pilots and if anything happens report it, we’ll be ready.”

Dameron proceeded to check in, “All pilots ready?”

—

As you landed your x-wing on the ground, you looked up to the sky, remembering once again after two years how intimidating the fleets looked like from the ground. You once fought against them, and now you were using them for a potential war, sounds almost poetic how that turned out to be.

Nonetheless you open the canopy and hop off your fighter, just like everyone else you came here with. Artoo sticks closely to your side and discreetly hands you the weapon from before, Rey’s lightsaber. You don’t even know how to use it, but you still take it l and meet up with the rest of your crew.

Carefully keeping an eye out for the species you’re supposed to be meeting. Theirs no armies of any kind surrounding you or warriors of any kind, just buildings made out of transipersteel, ships on hangers, and green pasture with one sun in the sky. Besides that, no looming threat, in fact they seem to be somewhat civilized, whoever they were.

The sound of artoo’s warning pulls your attention back, and to the location of where the noise of approaching footsteps is heard. Dameron and you meet each other’s gaze, sharing a knowing look that caused you to pull your blasters out and have it ready. For just in case. But once you see the appearance of who the footsteps belonged to, you’re not all threatened or scared, in fact you’re curious.

Theirs only five single people, one who seemed to be a droid and the rest just with weapons on them, but besides that nothing about them was threatening. They were like you, human. Well all except the little animal sentient next to them. Besides that they seemed reasonable. In fact the man leading the group looked the least dangerous of them all. He was tall, blond and handsome—now you hated to think of such a thing in an occasion such as this, but you couldn’t lie to yourself and think he wasn’t.

“Who are you?” The women with short blond hair asked, her just like you seeming to have the same surprised expression you and the rest of your crew had.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Dameron snapped back.

The man in the middle looked to his comrades and back to all of you, before confidently announcing, “we’re...The Avengers.”

.

.

.

A/N- was commanders Zuko’s name inspired from prince Zuko himself? Yes. Yes it was.

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch​​

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​​

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #starwars #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe imagines #poe dameron imagines #starwarsimagines #rey #finn #chewbacca #bb8droid #r2d2 #jessika pava #kare kun #lieutenant connix #avengers #star wars x marvel #marvel #avengers fanfiction #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #avengers imagines #steve rogers #captian america #Crossed stars

[vcg73]

FREE KURT: Mercedes Style

For the “Free Kurt” story collection organized by @elledelajoie  Work also posted to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655086

She stood at the top of the ornate winding staircase at Dalton Academy, flanked by Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez, grinning like a little girl at a parade as she watched Kurt wind through the enormous crowd of friends that Blaine had gathered together to witness the culmination of their love story. A perfect circle moment back to the day they had first met on this very staircase. 

Mercedes sighed wistfully. She couldn’t imagine Sam or Shane ever doing something this big and romantic to woo her.  Kurt was so lucky.

Music swelled around them from the huge choir of voices filling the lobby. Students from McKinley, Dalton, Haverbrook, and even a few from Carmel, blending into a heavenly host of perfect harmony as they serenaded the happy couple. Dancing and smiling, many singers reaching out to touch Kurt in passing, as if the contact would confer a percentage of his good fortune on them.

As Kurt slowly climbed the steps, Blaine approached, unmissable by anyone in the eye-popping, bright yellow suit he had chosen. He was finishing the final verse of his chosen song as he opened a small box and held it out expectantly. Mercedes caught her breath as he began the proposal that he had prepared. Wouldn’t any girl, real or honorary, swoon at such a show, overcome by the opulence and romance of it all?

Moving to the landing where she could have a better view of her best friend’s face, Mercedes smile faltered. For Kurt did not exactly appear to be overwhelmed with joy. He seemed overwhelmed all right, but not in the good way. He looked like he had walked into a party, opened a door, and found himself trapped inside a horror movie.  His face was frozen in a stiff lipped smile that looked more panicked than proud.

She watched his eyes quickly dart around the room, glancing from face to face as if searching for something, before settling back on Blaine. And now that she really looked at them both, didn’t Blaine’s smile seem a little too smug? As if he had no doubt at all that he had come up with something too impressive to turn down. 

But Kurt didn’t look at all like she would have expected on such an occasion. He wasn’t clasping his hands and bouncing on his toes in a giddy display of excitement. His eyes were not squinching up in that cute crinkly way they did when he was delighted. He wasn’t tearing up with emotion the way he did at beautiful romantic scenes in movies. And he was not looking at Blaine the way one would expect a person to look at their Prince Charming when he popped the big question. As if no one in world existed except for the two of them, crowd be damned. 

On the contrary. Mercedes had last seen this look on his face the night her brother - an aspiring gourmet - had proudly presented Kurt with a plate of creamed beef and Brussels sprouts seasoned with candied bacon. Like he was trying his best to look impressed and appreciative so as not to hurt the other person’s feelings, when actually he was trying not to vomit.

Glancing through the crowd, Mercedes looked for support. Did anyone else see what she was seeing? 

Rachel was starry-eyed with delight, practically cooing at every word Blaine spoke. Santana was smiling almost proudly. Kurt’s dad was beaming happily enough. Carole and Finn were . . .  strangely absent from the party. Kurt’s friends were . . . well, all of his closest friends were up here, out of his line of sight. Most of the rest seemed to be Blaine’s friends, or mutual friends from their shared high school life. The crowd below did not include a single friend from New York. Hadn’t Kurt said he’d joined a show choir out there? And what about that Vogue lady he was always gushing about? She had certainly sounded like the kind of person who would love to be part of an event like this. Surely if Blaine had invited everyone they knew in Ohio, he would have thought to ask people from Kurt’s new life too. He would want this to be special and memorable for both of them.

Wouldn’t he?

Mercedes frowned as she suddenly remembered the guy in New York. A new boyfriend that Kurt had posted about on his Facebook page. Someone he had seemed to be really into just a week or two ago, and who had evidently been just as much into him. Why did she not know when or how the two of them had broken up? Had Kurt been cheated on again, and come back to Blaine as a rebound? It would be like him not to advertise if that were the case. Especially with how few people had supported him the last time. When Blaine had cheated.

A cold feeling passed through Mercedes, dispelling the last of her previous romantic haze.

Had Kurt and his new beau simply drifted apart and Kurt had turned back to the familiarity of his old life, to someone familiar? Whatever the reason, it couldn’t have happened more than ten days ago.  

Guilt suffused her as she realized that she had been paying so little attention to her supposed ‘best friend’ over the months since he had moved away that she wasn’t even sure of the NYADA guy’s name. Alex? Andrew? Definitely something with an ‘A’.  Well, whatever his name was, wasn’t it a bit soon to be back with his ex after breaking up with the guy? Never mind getting engaged.

She looked at Rachel Berry again, recalling the disastrous near marriage of Rachel and Finn. Too much, too soon, too young, too impulsive. They had taken a few steps down the runway of life and fallen on their faces.

Was Kurt any more ready for such a big step?  He was a lot more mature than Finn, sure - Where the hell was Finn? The boy should be here for his brother’s big day! - but he was still barely 19 years old, and still in his first year of college. And Blaine was younger even than that. 

Kurt was the one who had always had glittering dreams of moving to the big city, going to college and earning a B.A. and possibly an eventual Master’s Degree in Performing Arts, followed by a brilliant career on stage and screen. He was the boy who had outlined his steps for achieving those dreams in painstaking (one might say obsessive) detail, using graphs, charts, white boards, sketches, spreadsheets, and anything else he could think of. She had always teased him about being as OCD as Miss Pillsbury, but secretly she had admired his drive and determination, his surety that he was good enough and worthy enough to one day achieve all of his dreams. 

Somehow all of that had started to fade when he became Blaine’s boyfriend and Rachel’s bestie.  

Mercedes had learned to like Rachel well enough over the years, but the girl did have a way of taking over other people’s plans and replacing them with her own, hammering away at them until they started to believe that they had wanted whatever she wanted all along. Had Kurt been so affected by living with Rachel that he had lost sight of his self esteem and personal plans for the future? Had Blaine only reinforced that? Sometimes those two were so much alike that Mercedes was tempted to sneak a DNA sample and find out if they were twins who had been separated at birth!

One of the things that had first drawn her to Kurt  was his flat-out refusal to let the people who were out to push him down and squash his ambition win. His native courage and endless passion, daring to dream of a bright future no matter what anyone said, had lit a fire under her own. He had been there for her every time she needed a friend. And when he had mis-stepped or taken the wrong road in their journey together, he had always been quick to apologize and genuine in making amends for any hurt he had caused her.

And how had she repaid that giving spirit? By repeatedly trying to push him down the path that she wanted to follow, dismissing his own concerns as trivial because she knew what was best. 

She had insisted that Kurt take his grieving heart to her church when his father was sick, that he follow her path to comfort, never once thinking that he might not be receiving any comfort himself. It was her own mother who, afterward, had pointed out that Kurt might have been too afraid of losing his best friend to say no. Mama had scolded her thoroughly for being so concerned with Kurt’s soul that she had never considered his mental and physical needs, never asked if Kurt wanted to stay over, or offered to have the Jones’s look after him while his only family was unavailable, or even just sat him down and let him talk, cry, or share the solace of an unbending embrace to keep him together when his world was falling apart. 

Instead she had forced him to walk her path and then patted herself on the back for a job well done and walked away. 

The following year, she had all but stopped talking to Kurt when he went away for those six months at Dalton. A coffee date or meal out with other friends once every couple of months did not begin to compare with their former joined-at-the-hip habits. She had actually resented him on some level for making his escape and leaving her behind. And it still made her burn with shame that she had never even noticed he was being bullied that badly in the first place. 

When Kurt came back to McKinley, things had been good for a while. More like the old days. But she had not liked his new friendship with Rachel, or having his boyfriend around all the time once Blaine transferred, feeling as if she had been replaced. When she had decided to form the Trouble Tones, Kurt had not given her grief or displayed any resentment over not being invited to go with her. He was the only guy in New Directions to get even less solo attention than she did, but she had lumped him in with all the others and turned her back. Where had her best friend loyalty, honorary girl solidarity to Kurt been then?

All of these thoughts flashed through Mercedes’ brain while Blaine spoke the last few words of his proposal. 

It hit her like lightning as Kurt drew in a deep breath to reply. Kurt had told her, Santana, and Rachel that he believed this moment was going to happen before he went home. Not ‘back to school’ or ‘back to New York’. Home. Ohio was not home to him any longer, and Blaine - the same Blaine who had wasted almost no time in casually cheating on Kurt once he left town and then somehow got the entire glee club to sympathize with him over doing so, blaming Kurt for his own betrayal  - was trying to drag Kurt back into the past by disguising it as a bright and shiny future full of love and devotion. Blaine would not stand by his promises, he would not remain faithful and loving, he would never sacrifice anything he wanted, and he would never stop expecting to be taken care of by a partner as he had been by his parents.

Blaine, like Rachel, was an immature child who would always want and expect to get their own way. Mercedes liked the guy, he was very easy to get along with, but she knew in her heart that he could not be the mature, devoted, loving, and equal partner that Kurt deserved. 

And deep down, Kurt knew it too.

That was why he looked so miserable. He did not want this. He had told them as much during their sleepover, but they had dismissed his concern as being dramatic. Kurt had been looking for a way out, for permission to do what his heart was telling him was right. He needed to be told that it was not an unforgivable sin to let people down for the sake his own happiness. He wanted to know it was okay to let his old relationship die and be buried in the past where it belonged. 

That was Kurt’s greatest flaw, and Mercedes recognized it because she shared it. Kurt was instinctively afraid to offend, afraid that those he cared about would not support or stand with him if he bucked their expectations, and in spite of a brave face, not secure enough in his own self worth to risk driving away loved ones. He was afraid to say ‘No’.

And no one else had even noticed. God, maybe he was right to be afraid!  Not being good enough was a fear that Mercedes had struggled with all her life, but unlike Kurt she had both of her parents, two siblings, and a lot of friends from different areas of life to fall back on when self doubt got the better of her. Who did Kurt have?

“You’ve got me, baby.”

She had not intended to speak the words, but they rang out loud and clear in the sudden silence between Blaine’s proposal and Kurt’s pending reply.

Everyone looked up at her, confused. Blaine was shocked and annoyed, probably justifiable given her interruption of his big moment. Kurt was startled but . . . hopeful.

It was the hope in those big baby blues that solidified Mercedes’ courage. Kurt Hummel was her best friend and it was time she showed him that she still had his back.

Walking down the steps, her heart pounded at the sheer audacity of what she was doing. “If this was a wedding, someone would be asking if there was any objection,” she said, smiling winsomely then dropping it when nobody else joined in the joke. Okay then. Serious it was. She took a deep breath. “Well, this isn’t a wedding, but I know that I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t speak my mind and tell you, Kurt, that I hope you do the right thing and say no.”

Gasps of mingled horror and salacious interest came from all over the room. 

“I should have said that when you asked me yesterday what I thought about your suspicion that Blaine intended to propose before you went back to New York. I let myself get caught up in the romance of it all, but that wasn’t right. Because this isn’t some fairy tale of soul-mates and happy-ever-after. This is your life and your happiness, and those things matter. You matter.”

Mercedes was not sure what she had said to cause such a reaction, but Kurt suddenly jerked like he’d just awakened from a dream. He looked down at his dad, who had taken a couple of steps forward. She had spoken quickly, afraid that she would be interrupted but now, instead of looking annoyed, Burt Hummel looked ashamed of himself. His round cheeks had flushed red and he was looking at his son with apologetic eyes.

Following up this curious advantage, Mercedes continued. “Back in high school, you two were everybody’s romantic dream. Getting with Blaine was kind of your big win after all the bad things you’d been through. I thought getting married to him would be a reward for holding out and staying strong, even after he broke your heart. But that’s really stupid.”

She held out her hand, smiling when Kurt accepted it without thought. 

“This ain’t high school anymore. You’ve moved forward and started a new life with a great job, a lot of nice sounding friends, and living in the city of your dreams. You’re only on Book One, Appendix Seven of the ‘Hummel Guidebook to a Happy and Successful Life’ and I know how you feel about people who skip to the end before reading the whole thing.”

Everyone else looked even more baffled by the latter comment, but Kurt actually laughed, dashing away a sheen of tears that had sprung to his eyes with his free hand.

“You’re not even in your twenties yet, baby,” she said softly, pleading with her eyes for him to listen and understand. “This was your first relationship, and it hasn’t even been a very smooth one. Do you really want to marry someone you’ve barely even started dating again? When none of your old problems ever got worked out? How do you know he won’t lie to you again, or cheat on you again? Kurt, you deserve better than that. You once told me after a guy broke my heart that I had to be strong for myself, to respect and love myself enough to make the hard choices, because you wanted me to be happy.”

With an audible sniffle, Kurt dashed away more tears and nodded. “You deserve that.”

“And so do you. I want that for you. I want you to have a great life and get moving on the future of your dreams. I want you and I to meet up for tea and pastries in some fancy New York patisserie when we’re 80, to look back on our free and fabulous twenties, and laugh at what brave foolish kids we were. I want you to find a real, true, grown up kind of love when the time is right. Some great guy who will enjoy all the good times with you, but never let you down during the hard ones. Can you honestly say that you’re gonna find that with Blaine?”

At the sound of his name, Blaine seemed to snap out of the trance of shock he had fallen into and he moved up a step, turning his flushed face and angry eyes toward Kurt. “You aren’t going to listen to this, are you? This isn’t any of her business, and we ...”

“It is her business,” Kurt interrupted, shoulders straightening as his formerly wilted posture firmed. His voice sounded stronger and more certain than Mercedes had heard it in months. “Because she’s right. I jumped back into this relationship because I was afraid of not being good enough for anyone. Not worth taking a real chance on with somebody new. I’m sorry, Blaine, that my own issues caused me to lead you on and make you think I wanted this. I don’t. On the way over here my dad said I looked like I was going to my own funeral. That isn’t how anyone is supposed to feel when they know they have a proposal coming.”

He took the ring box from Blaine’s hand and snapped it shut, putting it back in his palm and pushing both away from him. He leaned down and hugged the flummoxed teenager with sincere warmth.

“Thank you for such a beautiful proposal, Blaine, but my answer is no. I won’t marry you. I hope we can go back to being friends one day, but I’ll understand if that’s not possible.”

Blaine was gaping like a landed fish, unable to argue with the unusual degree of certainty in Kurt’s eyes and voice. “You’re really dumping me?” he said in a small voice. “Right here in front of everyone?”

Seeing Kurt’s face flush, Mercedes cut in again. “It’s the risk you take when you invite everyone you know to see you propose.” Her eyes narrowed. “Everyone except most of your would-be groom’s family. Did you even ask Finn and his mom?”

That question sparked a reaction in Burt Hummel, who looked startled, as if he had not even realized until she asked the question that he was the only family member present. He looked at Kurt again, and this time he spoke up. 

“She’s right, about everything she said. I feel like finding my favorite socket wrench and whacking myself upside the head to see if it’ll jump start my stupid brain. You asked me what I said when Blaine asked for my permission to do this and I refused to tell you. I shouldn’t have done that, Kurt, and I’m sorry. I said no. That I thought the two of you were too young and had too much ahead of you to make a life changing decision like that. I said that if you were really right for each other, then your relationship would only get stronger with time.” He glared at Blaine. “Though it sounds to me now like it was pretty much built on sand to begin with.”

Mercedes advanced on the startled Blaine. “And what about Kurt’s friends in New York? Did you try to contact any of them? Or did you only want people who would be on your side, to pressure him into saying yes?” 

Poking a finger into the lapel of that garish mustard yellow suit she sailed on. 

“You do that a lot from what I’ve heard. Go behind Kurt’s back to try and get other people to guilt him into doing whatever you want, without a thought as to whether or not it would hurt him. Well, honey, that ends right now. You got your answer, so now it’s time for you to move on. And you can just take me off your Facebook friends list when you leave here too. I’ve chosen my side.” Smiling at Kurt, she held out her elbow. “Come on, baby. Let me hop a ride out to the airport with you and your dad, and he can drop me off home on the way back. I didn’t bring my car.”

Looping his elbow through hers, Kurt held his head high as he was escorted down the wide staircase. He smiled and held out his free arm to his proudly watching father, who straightened his weather baseball cap and accepted the gesture. 

“I feel like we oughtta be singing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard,” Burt quipped as the three marched past the throng of shocked, and surprisingly admiring in many cases, guests and toward the huge double entry doors of Dalton Academy.

Kurt laughed a little, “I guess that makes me the Tin Man, because I’ve been afraid to trust my heart for a long time.”

"And I’m the Scarecrow,” Burt snorted. “Definitely no brains here.”

“Does that mean I’m Dorothy?” Mercedes asked, grinning at the light banter as they made it outside and over to Burt’s truck.

Kurt let go of their arms, then turned to give his friend a long heartfelt hug. “No,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “You’re the Wizard. You showed me that I’ve had what I needed all along. Thank you, Mercedes. For keeping me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”

She hugged him back tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. You and I both have a problem with going along to get along and we really need to work on that. I’ve just been thinking that it’s time to let go of the past and fully embrace the unknown future, even when it’s a little scary.” She stepped out of the embrace but continued to hold his hand, squeezing it for emphasis as she added, “But at the same time, maybe we need to get back to the fierce divas we both were at 16. I liked those two, and I miss ‘em.”

He nodded. “Me too. That me never would have thought so little of himself that he’d almost agree to marry someone that didn’t respect him.”

“No,” she said, “And he would have flat-out died at the thought of spending his life with someone who dressed like a walking condiment bar.”

Finally, Kurt laughed outright and his father joined in, nodding ruefully. 

“I love you, Mercedes.”

“I love you too, Kurt. Now, let’s get going and you can tell me what happened with that other guy you were so excited about. Aaron?”

“Adam,” he said. He looked rather guilty. “He said he didn’t want to be my rebound but that he wanted us to be a couple. I told him I needed more time before I started anything serious with a new guy. He said he understood. He backed off and I think I panicked. I thought that meant he was okay with cooling things off and maybe I didn’t really mean anything to him after all.”

At this admission, Burt groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “And that’s why you let your heart melt when Blaine came panting back up and started humping your leg.”

“Dad!”

Burt raised an eyebrow. “I call it like I see it, kid. And the last ten minutes have opened my eyes to a lot of things. Like, you’ve been put down and pushed out so many times that you don’t even know what a good relationship is supposed to look like anymore. When you get back to New York, I want you to go online and find a good therapist. A real one this time, not some hack school counselor who tries to push their own romantic failures off on you.”

“You know about that?”

“You told Finn. He’s got a big heart and a bigger mouth. And he doesn’t approve of the way Blaine treats you. That should have occurred to me when I didn’t see him in there. I’m real sorry for that, son. You weren’t the only person trying to recapture their past, it seems.” Burt sighed. “Anyway, about that therapist. Find someone you can be comfortable talking about all the crap you’ve been through and let them get your head on straight. I wouldn’t start dating anyone else seriously until you’ve had a few sessions of that. And don’t worry about the money. I put your mom’s life insurance payout in a Trust for you and it’ll mature when you hit your next birthday. I’ll pay for it until then. Just send me the details and I’ll set up a direct deposit for you.”

Kurt looked stunned. “Dad, that’s . . . are you sure?”

The fact that he did not argue that he didn’t need such a thing told his father all he needed to know. “I’m sure. Consider it my apology for being such a myopic ass these last couple of years.”

“You weren’t...”

“I was,” Burt said bluntly. “Take the offer.”

Mercedes gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. “It’s a good idea, but I also want you to know that you can talk to me anytime you want, about anything. This time I promise I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

“Ditto,” he replied, clearly a little overwhelmed by the sudden turnaround his life had just taken. Checking his watch, Kurt said, “We’d better get going. That detour took up most of my pre-flight check in time and I don’t want to miss the plane.”

Burt just nodded, pulling out his keys and heading for the driver’s seat. He had said what he needed to and looked a little relieved to get back to business.

Mercedes climbed into the back seat and was a little surprised, though pleased, when Kurt joined her instead of taking the seat next to his father. “We can catch up a little more,” he said, buckling himself in. “I want to hear more about what’s going on in Los Angeles.”

As she began filling the silence with a dramatic play by play of life as an aspiring recording artist, Mercedes could see the tension leeching out of Kurt. He looked relaxed for the first time since he’d come back to Ohio, his mind at ease, and she felt proud that she had been instrumental in bringing about that expression of peace. She hadn’t been a very good friend of late, but it filled her own heart with healing joy to know that it was not too late.

They were right where they needed to be.

THE END

#Free Kurt #Kurt and Mercedes #Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly #Proposal AU where Mercedes saves the day

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

"Why I fear Harry’s had too much therapy"

Dr. Max Pemberton explains characteristics of those who’ve had too much therapy

NHS psychiatrist says Harry should turn difficulties into something positive  

By DR MAX PEMBERTON FOR THE DAILY MAIL

PUBLISHED: 22:06, 16 May 2021 | UPDATED: 22:06, 16 May 2021

At the launch of his Apple TV+ mental health series last week, Prince Harry spoke about how the ‘majority of us carry some form of unresolved trauma, loss or grief’. Well, yes, we do. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. In fact, it can actually be a force for good. The failures, struggles and difficulties we experience are what make us learn to stand on our own two feet and be stable, secure adults. It is part of learning how to deal with frustration, anxiety and uncertainty. This seems to have passed him by.

Far from being the poster-child for the benefits of therapy, I’m afraid Harry is actually becoming quite the opposite. He is starting to embody the characteristics of those who’ve had too much therapy — self-centred, self-obsessed, aggrieved and resentful. He says he’s talking about his troubles ‘to help other people’. This rings rather hollow.

It would be far more helpful if Harry showed through his actions how he has turned his difficulties into something positive, rather than simply sounding spoilt and angry. He has also failed to understand that the modern obsession with getting everything off your chest, airing every grievance, isn’t helpful at all.

Sometimes a stiff upper lip is precisely what’s needed. Sometimes talking about something endlessly isn’t the answer. Talking can only make so much difference. There are times when you need to accept the past and move on. No amount of chat is going to change what has happened.

The best advice doesn’t always come from Freud or Jung. I often think a good mantra to live your life by is the song from Disney’s Frozen: Let It Go. After all, isn’t that all that psychotherapy is, really? It’s simply helping us to let go of something in the past and move on. And there does come a point where people do have to let stuff go.

At what point, for example, do you stop looking back and start looking forward? At what point do you stop blaming your parents for all the mistakes you’ve made in your life?

Now that’s not to say I’m not a great fan of psychotherapy. I’ve had psychotherapy myself and I’ve trained in it. But I also think there can be too much navel-gazing.

I’m not saying bottling things up is the answer. That can cause a multitude of problems as things fester. But, equally, there comes a point when you have to leave wounds alone. Constantly reopening and examining them only makes them take longer to heal and more likely to scar. If anything, I think people have become more self-obsessed and narcissistic. I think about my nan and the awful hardships and traumas she had to endure.

Not only did you never hear her complain, I didn’t know half the stuff she had gone through. She didn’t speak about it because she knew she couldn’t change what had happened. Instead, she got on with living. Isn’t that a good way to live your life?

If Harry really wants to help people, rather than following the trend for oversharing — which has done little to help the mental wellness of large swathes of the La La Land elite — he would do far better to look closer to home and ask himself who are the modern royals we most admire?

Who, over the past few decades, come across as the most psychologically robust? It’s certainly not his much- loved mother Princess Diana, who, despite hours upon hours of psychotherapy, was still dogged by problems.

No, the royals people look up to are the Queen and Princess Anne, both of whom are paragons of emotional restraint. I’ve no doubt both have their own issues, as everyone does, but they just get on with things, don’t they? They don’t wallow in self-pity or spend all day self-analysing. They let it go.

MODERATED Daily Mail Comments:

"Sometimes a stiff upper lip is precisely what’s needed." In other words Meghan:

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Extinction (Sebastian Stan x You)

Character: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: The world was suffering from a zombie apocalypse. You fell off the train, everybody thought you were dead but turns out you survived from the fall and came back to try and heal your angered, broken heart but with vengeance.

Warning: This probably sucks? Other than that, none. XD

Words: 2,940

A/N: Inspired by the movie Resident Evil. (Love that movie so bad!) But the whole story isn't based on it. I made my own plot. I just took some characters from the game. 😊 I didn't even know how I ended up typing this? Feedbacks are very much appreciated! Aaaaaaaaaah! I’ve made a zombie apocalypse one for Chris Evans as well. Entitled ‘Barely Alive’ and it currently has two parts. Link is right under this author’s note. 

BARELY ALIVE (CHRIS EVANS X YOU) (1ST PART)

Disclaimer: GIF and pictures used are not mine, only the edits are and the whole book of course.  

Everybody was huffing once they've stepped foot on the train, each one completely exhausted from the zombie-human chase that has happened with your group of people who was safe from the infection. The faces of the other group who had been in the train looked relieved that there was still survivors, people who were the same as them, and deep down in your hearts all of you know there were more. Faith was all you were holding on to, the faith to live and stay alive.

There's nothing wrong in having faith, it makes each person stronger. You know everybody who was stepping on the same train as you were strong individuals, people who are striving to stay alive with the world crumbling apart because of the apocalypse.

"This is our train," A shaggy, greasy, long haired man spat, those dark hues filled with fear, overthinking that your group plans on taking the train away from them. You stepped back apprehensively, avoiding the man's rude attitude as Chris (Evans) decided to handle the whole situation since you weren't good at talking to ill-mannered people.

"We won't take your train, we just needed a lift to Arcadia,"  He calmly spoke to the man, hoping he would cooperate and understand the situation at hand. The man still looked agitated by your entrance, his spot was suddenly taken when the leader of their group named Jill stepped in front of him, standing tall and intimidating. Her face slightly tainted by the mixture of dirt, sweat and blood, eyes holding no emotions. "We're headed there, you guys got lucky this time," She slightly smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. You were quick to read the sadness behind those eyes of hers, it was the hint of grief that some of their people have been taken by the infected.

Your eyes scanned your small group of people, Robert's there..Jeremy, Anthony, Paul, Elizabeth, Aaron, Scarlett, basically the whole Marvel cast with their families and the DC cast included. You were the only person whose family was taken away from the Umbrella Corporation. A stranger in a group of famous people, and the only normal human who had survived. You didn't know why your family were the only one who was taken when the others were given as a bait for the dead and only were the only one who had survived from their harsh abduction.

Those dazzling blue eyes you've grown to love landed on yours, a look that says he was relieved you were still standing before him, alive and kicking with no wounds nor scratches. You were all lucky enough to have outrun them this time. Sebastian was quick to engulf you in his arms, hugging you off your feet as you knotted your arms around his neck, hiding your face in between his shoulder, feeling tears forming in your eyes. You were scared for your life and what future does it hold for you both and for everyone. "Shhh," Your lover sweetly hushed, giving your back gentle caresses. You heard him sniff and instantly you knew he was feeling the same way as you.

"We'll survive this apocalypse, we just gotta stick together, Y/N." Everybody was now hugging their loved ones. frightened for what was about to come. Sebastian unwrapped his arms around you, taking your face in his pretty, large hands. It felt soft and slight calloused all together, his eyes looked down on you lovingly, pupils blown in affection, "I love you, we'll stick together until the end..and I'll love you till my last breath, please don't think about giving up,"

Everybody was hugging each other, except from one person who despised you the most when you came into Sebastian's life..Her name was Valentine/Meredith. She was Sebastian's ex-girlfriend, he loves you more than anything in the world, he did everything he didn't do for her, he became the best lover that Y/N dreamed of. A dream that was once wished by Valentine/Meredith. The expected jealousy was bubbled up inside of her, resulting it to turn bigger, rotting  till she couldn't handle anymore.

She did rot. Even though she wasn't a Zombie, the jealousy inside of her began to rot till she did the most malintent thing she ever done in her life.

"N-No! S-Stop!" You groaned and choked around the hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Your hands wrapped on the edges of the opened train door, grasping for dear life. You could hear the high-pitched whistle of the air, tempting to try and suck you out of the train.

Your face was beginning to turn paler as each second passes by, lungs starting to desperately heave for some air. Yet, the stranger who had your neck around his large hand appeared to plan on choking till you could see the other side of the world. Death.

"It was you! You and your psychopathic family started this apocalypse!" He shouted, brown eyes glowing with ire.

"T-Those are lies!!!" Your voice croaked, desperately trying to unlatch the stranger's hand--lets name him Will since you've heard Jill talk to the bulky, bald man a while ago-- He didn't stop though, he was triggered to tighten his hold. Sucking the air out of your lungs, "I-I have nothing to do with my father's scientific profession! I know nothing!!"

"LIES! Valentine/Meredith told me every secret you held! Your family was taken by the Umbrella Corporation! You're fucking connected to those son of a bitches!" He spat aloud. You desperately scanned your surroundings. Nobody was around, it was just you, him and an empty train.

Y/N just had to take a piss when suddenly she was pulled by the huge guy who gripped her by the hair so hard, locking them up in the other side of a train where people weren't around. Sebastian was in a group meeting with the others, talking about some plans when your bladder decided to burst in the wrong time.

You couldn't help stop nature.

"You're the fucking antidote that they needed! Your blood is the medicine and answer to this nightmare!" His fingers began to tighten more, leaving no air to enter your throat, making your face turn paler and bluer as each damned second passed by. Your vision was beginning to turn hazy and everything was spinning around.

"The Umbrella corporation will come back and get you! We can't afford another death in our group and even with yours! You're the one who deserves to die! You deserve to get found and get experimented!"

Half of your feet were dangling on the edge of the train. Your heart accelerating as fast as how the train was going. The heavy, harsh wind slapping your face, telling you that you were about to die any moment. Will was forcefully pushing you back, his eyes glowing with feral anger. Only one train of thought running in his mind. He needed the kill.

"S-Somebody! Help! Sebastian!" You desperately breathed, clawing at his hands harsher, but it seemed too feeble to unlatch as you were slowly getting vincible, your strength slowly faltering.

Your bulging eyes hastily searched for any person who could help you. Will was a pretty large person and you..you were small, frail and stiff. Fighting him off would just be a waste of energy because you know you were no match with him.

However, that tiny faith in you screamed to fight him. Use those techniques you see in the movies. There was no harm in trying, and so you did.

Will was a big guy, but he's surely an idiot for bringing you close and breathing in your face because the world just turned upside down and  you've immediately gotten the upper hand when you reached up and roughly pressed his eyes, emitting a guttural scream from the large man. He released your throat, clutching onto his stingy eyes as he moved aside and you've gotten the chance to run, sprinting on the way to the door in haste.

All the pieces of your heart fell apart when a very unbelievable scene unfolded behind the clear train door. An imaginary hand crawling up to your chest, giving it a tight squeeze, making the ache unbearable to handle.

Why? Because Sebastian was fucking kissing Valentine/Meredith.

The pain in your throat came back, but it wasn't because you were being choked again. You could feel your heart sting so bad as Sebastian stood in front of her, his back on you and Valentine's/Meredith's face that you wanted to stab a million times. She was a bitch indeed.

You tightened your palms in either side of you, forgetting the fact that you were in the middle of getting choked to death and thrown outside the train. Your heart was palpitating with different kinds of reason. Anger, pain, jealousy and fear.

Your hand was about to grab the lock, yet you were left banging a hand on the clear door once you felt Will's hand painfully pulling at your roots, yelling a scream that caught everyone's attention at the other side of the door.

Sebastian was utterly frozen in spot when the woman who he held no feelings stood on her tiptoes and pressed a disgusting kiss on his lips, having no shame that everybody was around but were busy talking except from one of his friend named Mackie who clearly bulged his eyes out when she maliciously kissed him in front of them.

She was a damn, hard headed vixen who didn't care about her dignity and had no shame.

Unfortunately, you didn't see Sebastian push her off, reacting with such hostility that made her regret what she did. "What the fuck, Valentine/Meredith?! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

Then he heard a heart stopping scream.

A scream that came from you.

He was fast to turn around, scared of what happened to the love of his life. Yet, he was too late.

Y/N had already fell off the train.

It was that exact moment he knew that his heart would never forgive himself because you were gone.

Just like that, and he won't ever forget to cry every night, mourning for his dying heart.

                                        ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

6 months after:

"You sure there's still survivors in here?" Claire Redfield asked in a hushed whisper, an American special police officer who was the leader of your group. The sweet-smelling, woody scent of pine trees breezed around all four of you as you stood below a huge, beige Meditteranean house that looked untouched and placid. The house looking clear from the infected.

The four of you decided to check the house, Leon claiming that he saw somebody run from behind the back garden. You didn't know what got into you, but you automatically stood up from your seat of the bus and volunteered to come. Claire didn't hesitate for you to join with them since she knew how trained you are. She knew how tough you got from all the training and sparring you did with her. You weren't the softy that everyone knew before, you were trained to fight and be strong for the better of your future, putting aside those tears and feelings on the ground.

You've changed, you're trying to change and it was for the better. You hoped in the back of your mind.

There were still a lot of survivors inside the bus, currently waiting for what was about to come and anticipating who or what was inside the mansion. All of you stood still as you nervously stand on the porch. Leon was picking on the lock of the door knob, a tiny, faded click signalling everyone that he finally had it open.

"Positive, Claire." You whispered, keeping the gun back in your holster, hiding behind Leon. He wrenched the door knob opened, Eerie silence welcomed you, alerting everyone's senses. You took light steps while parading in, your boots sounding so quiet and theirs as well.

"How sure are you, Y/N?"

You kept your mouth shut, you didn't know how you were sure. It was what your heart could feel, and in the vague point of your mind, a tiny voice was yelling that there was someone in there and despite of your fragmented heart, you hoped it was someone you knew. Someone you loved, and a certain person who broke your heart. Leaving nothing but anger inside your shattered soul.

You fixed your crouching postures once your team stopped inside a circle of a marbled, black floor. The ceiling was too high to reach, a very lavish chandelier dangling on top of your heads. Your hearts skipped a beat when you heard faded foot steps echoing around.

"I am strangling you alive when we're compromised, Y/N!" Leon whisper-yelled. Leaving Claire's question unanswered. You felt a ball stuck in your throat as your eyes skimmed around the mansion, your heart skipping a beat from nervousness, anticipating for what or who was living inside the place.

Everybody heard an ear-wrecking creak, your eyes roamed from left to right, the sound continuously perceptible. "Something's going to fall," Leon uttered, senses on full alert. The creaking sound stopping just as all your breaths did and with a quick clang, everybody knew it was the chandelier falling.

Everybody ducked, rolled and maneuvered away from the circle, leaving you alone and distracted by the hushed whispers echoing inside a certain room from the second floor, seeing a silhouette disappearing in the shadows. Your hands were trembling, breath stopping and eyes focused on the falling chandelier above you. Is that how it all ends for you? To get killed by a huge chandelier falling on your head?

"Y/N!" Your team screamed for your name, your feet were rooted on the ground, trying to accept the fate of your death. Your foot trembled once you took a step back, was it all too late?

Then, you felt a body harshly pushing you away. Your body landing on the floor with a loud and painful thud, your head hitting the floor, the world spun around you like a whirlpool. Darkness hugging you for a moment or so until you realized a warm body was hovering above you, coughing out the dust that was flying all around.

With a blink of an eye, you were met with the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen, the eyes of the man you had ever loved with all your heart, and the only man who have crushed your heart into pieces from the moment your life changed when you fell on that train all the way to Arcadia.

"Y/N??"

His Steele blue eyes turned duller, losing it's glimmer. Earning dark eye bags underneath his feature that you loved the most. The color of his face lost a ton, making him look less happy with his life.

The man above you was like a different man and you were in shock. Completely flabbergasted with your mouth ajar, you've longed for him, for his touch and the warmth radiating off him whenever you both were together.

Yet, everything felt different with the pain inside of your soul. You hardly closed your mouth, spitting out a name that seemed difficult to verbally say for you as he was finally up close and personal for the first time after the accident happened.

You were choking in your own words, mouth keeping a straight line, blinking in the tight feeling forming inside your chest. It was too painful to look at him because all you could recall was the memories with him, coming at you one by one.

"Sebastian?"

It's that exact moment you knew you were dying inside. As much as how he did when he thought he would never get to see you again.

STEVE? LMAO 😥😘 FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! LIKE AND REBLOG OR COMMENT IF YA WANT MOREEEEE, TATER TOTS! WHO MISSED ME?!

#Sebastian Stan #Sebby #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #Bucky Barnes #chris evans #sebastian x reader #tatasmasterlist #seb-owns-these-tatas #tatasworks #seb owns these tatas #Sebastian Stan Oneshots #sebastian stan one shot #winter's children #zombie apocalypse

[firstlady-mercedesevans]

Stone Cold

INVOLVED: Mercedes Evans and William Samuel Evans LOCATION: Loudon Park Cemetery; Baltimore, Maryland TIME FRAME: - NOTES: Mercedes goes back to the family home.  AUTHOR’S NOTE: trigger warning; mentions teen death.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. President.” The frozen Baltimore wind whooshed into the car. William clutched his knees, inhaling the stiff, bitter cold. “Of course.” He whispered; stomach clenched. Where else could they be? He exhaled and inhaled, wrestling the emotion to leave this Godless place. “Sir…” William’s head snapped to the face of the secret service agent. Nothing changed about the guard’s demeanor. Not his face; or his hand holding the door of the presidential limousine. But the trained killer conceded. He took a half step away from the open door.

She’d been seen in better light than this, even as snow fell, she couldn’t bring herself to get up. The stairs had her bound to them, despite how horribly uncomfortable laying against them was her body hadn’t quite caught up with her mind. She blinked slowly as she gazed at nothing in particular, exhaustion had met its match with heartbreak and now they both tangoed with her soul. The tears against her face left like ice cubes yet, she still didn’t move. How could she? She’d be leaving him here again, as she did before, as she’d done the day of his funeral, like she had every day for several months on end after that. She was bound, rather it was her body or her soul that she didn’t know but she was okay, okay with the thought of dying here. Because she didn’t see herself moving, getting up wasn’t a choice, she’d lay here, lying near him here brought more peace than the pillows she’d lie on elsewhere.

William nodded, an affirming action for himself, then climbed from the car. His feet crunch on the snow-covered gravel of the drive. He rose from the car, working his glove over his hand, determined to tower over the bone filled ground. A reminder to the sea of graves they had no claim on him. Pulling in another deep breath, the cold burned his chest. So, he repeated the process over and over again. Claiming another victory over reaper. Six secret service men surrounded the president, leading him through the labyrinth of graves. Everything is covered in white. Everything except the ring of guards surrounding Mercedes. They stood out like some dark omen arriving too late. That’s when he spots her. “Jesus…” He utters and breaks into a run. The men quickened their pace, keeping pace with the older man. William tore at the buttons of his overcoat. Hissing, he uses his teeth to pull off his glove and spits it to the ground. He tugs at the last 3 buttons of his coat, removing it. Going to one knee, he threw the jacket over the first lady, tucking it in around her frame. His finger brushed over her bangs, her already frozen skin alarming him further. “Mercedes … it’s time to go.”

Mercedes breathed a heavy sigh; her fingers were freezing at any moment she felt they’d fall off. But it still wasn’t enough for her. Her eyes closed for a moment before she opened them longingly. Again, staring off at nothing at all until she heard his voice, her eyes moved slowly to climb up her husband. One arm tucked under her head she said, “what are you doing here?” confused and dazed to an extent. His words were so predictable, it’s time to go, of course it was. His jacket did feel a little warmer though “I was in labor with him for 26 hours” she spoke her eyes fixed on a headstone nearby “and I didn’t even get to spend 26 years with him” she said, a sniffle leaving her as she closed her eyes.

Williams squeezed his lips together to keep his teeth from chattering. “I tried to call.” He told her softly, “You didn’t answer. So… I came.” He told her rubbing his thumb across her cheek. His eyes clung to her face as if she was the last life vest on a sinking ship. “I know. It’s not fair.” He looked up at the sky and exhaled, at a loss for words. “Hey, hey.” he said after a moment, “Here.” he slipped his hand under his wife’s arm, lifting it. Then rested her head in his lap. Silently, he ran his hand down the length of her body. It was not a gentle, loving gesture. He wanted to rub warmth back into limbs.

She almost felt the love in his statement and his touch when he caressed her cheek, a simple action that brought back so many memories of what used to be. He shifted her slightly and she winced at the sudden change, she knew she needed to get up. Mercedes shifted her sleeping feet a bit, trying to wiggle some life in them in her suede heel. “I did it to spite you at first, but I have so many people counting on me to make a change in this world. And I don’t know if I can, Madison was right I can’t handle all of this. What’s left of my heart is just breaking all over again…” she said as she began to break down.

William’s hand slowed to a stop. He’d ranted and even accused her of using this to hurt him. Somehow her confirming his accusations. That hurt. His jaw cliched and he swallowed thickly but went back to rubbing the woman’s side. “You are changing the world. Right now.” He said matter of fact. “You are brave enough to know your limits. To show the world, it’s okay to grieve.” He exhaled a white cone spreading out in front of him. A pain expression came to his face as he thought of his little girls. “Our daughter is insightful. You need more time to heal. That’s all. Then you can do anything you want. You always have.” He felt her sobs coming, instinctively. He leaned in to cover her with his body, kissing her hair as he repeated over and over again. “It’s fine… It’s fine.”  

He spoke to her like a grief counselor, where was his emotion? She sniffled hard when she thought about it to herself, he accused of moving on, yet they never saw him do anything. Just like now. A pat, a rub, a kiss to the hair. His son had died, his only son. And the only thing he could offer her was “it’s fine” it fell from her lips, a pivotal moment of realization. It jolted her to realize that he had given her her own rope. She was quizzical even now, blinking a few times before she said “I need to get up” sluggishly to him. So, she attempted, sniffling again Mercedes patted her face a little dry with her bare fingers and pulled herself into an upright position.

William eased back giving Mercedes the space to right herself. His hand slipped low on her waist, but he didn’t move from his seated position. This was what he needed her to do. He nor the secret service could move his wife. She had to want it for herself. It was her nature. One of his favorite parts.  

As she sat upright the damage, she’d cause to her aging body finally showed its ugly head, but she inhaled and exhaled to herself. Closing her eyes for a moment she shifted only a little before she opened them. “Okay” she said to herself as she swallowed down the grief for now “okay” Mercedes said, stretching out her hands for the two men she had grown to love dearly. It was their job to protect her yes, so by right she had to love them for that. But honestly, they were comforting, though others might not have seen it that way at all. With the men’s help she got onto her feet with slight discomfort here and there “thank you” she said to them politely.

William stayed silent as Mercedes reset herself. He watched her come back from the brink overseeing it all, patience. He exhaled, relaxing physically when she reached for assistance. Then eased himself to a standing, shaking, a bit at the loss of warmth his wife’s body provided. He reached for her hand now, taking it lightly. “Ready?”

Mercedes wiped her face dry with her hands, her makeup was probably ruined right now after all of that crying. She inhaled and exhaled deeply again looking at her husband. “Yeah” she said before she looked towards the boys resting place. “One second” she said as she moved back towards the structure again, holding the man’s coat against herself “okay kid, I have to go now. I’ll be back” she said “I wish I could take you with me” she said it was irrational, but it didn’t stop her from thinking that. “Again, I am so sorry” she told him “I could have done more, could’ve helped with what was paining you. But I guess my karma is living the rest of my life with my own….” she said before she leaned in and kissed the door of the building leaving her stained lip print. “I love you” she told him as she pulled away finally. “I’m ready now” she said as she grabbed his hand finally.

William turned solemnly as Mercedes returned to the mausoleum. His eyes lowered, her words of goodbye pulling at him, his mouth twitching but he clapped his lips shut holding tight to his thoughts and sentiments. She would return year after year. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. Did he really expect her to do anything different? He wrestled with that thought, until her hand returned to his. Her words pulled him from his thoughts. It was time to depart, he met her eyes and gently reclaimed her hand.

As Mercedes held his hand, she finally realized for the first time the detriment of what she’d done. She saw the News vans and the paparazzi; she hid a bit. She couldn’t imagine what was being reported and she knew once again that she may have caused a bit of trouble when it came to him. He was the President now to some degree; she really didn’t have simple human rights because everything she did or could do would be used against them. Or paint her in a bad light. Sighing to herself, she tucked some hair behind her ear as she looked down while she walked.

The press of reporters were held back by a line of men in black. Never had William ever been so grateful to the Secret Service. He followed close on the heels of the Service men as they wounded their way back to the awaiting warmth of the limo. The service man in front of him touched his ear. “Mr. President, they are asking for a statement. The press wants to know if the first lady is okay.” William continued to move mouth drawn. “Mr. President” “We need to get back to the cars” he said, stiffly. “I’ll issue a statement when we get home.”

With her eyes low Mercedes walked alongside William, she only looked up when she heard the man. It was just another thorn being added to William’s side and she knew she’d probably hear a complaint about that later. However, she’d have enough time to think of a good enough statement to write for him to make up for it, hopefully.

William’s hand tightened on his Mercedes, steps quickening when the car came into view. He’d done his best to ignore the cold, but the snow accumulating in his hair and on shoulders was causing his entire body to shake. The men had the door open when they approached. William stepped aside ushering Mercedes forward.

Mercedes felt him squeeze her hand and she looked up at him, moving her hand for her nose. It was freezing out here and what she wore was not built for it. Hopefully she didn’t get sick for being so stupid, her tights were damp from the snow. Moving into the vehicle she let his hand go and slid to the other side as she sighed in the warmth, closing her eyes. She rested her elbow against the window and rubbed her temples a bit.

William waited for Mercedes to clear the car door, then climbed in behind her. He wrapped his arms around his frame and rubbed frantically at his shoulders, forcing warm blood back into his arms. There in front of him were two large blankets. He grabbed one and opened it laying over Mercedes before taking the other for himself.

Mercedes only leaned up when she felt William she shifted against the seat, feeling for her purse but it wasn’t with her. “Damn” she said as they began to move, she could have used a pen and paper. “I’ll write something” she told him as she toed her heels off. She gently rubbed her feet as she looked out the window for a moment, snapping back to reality. She had two other children and it hit her “where is Madison and Mackenzie?” she asked him.

William wrapped the blanket over himself, sighing. He turned his head slowly towards Mercedes the ever-deepening lines on his forehead becoming cavernous. “Don’t worry. Either Phillip will have something prepared, or we’ll see to it on the plane.” At her next question he turned away from Mercedes and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. “They’re at home. I asked them to stay off social media and the TV until I-- We could get back to speak with them” he said, biting off his words.

“Okay” she said back to him noting his short tone and she looked away from him. “I didn’t think that would be a spectacle too” she argued though he hadn’t really started one. Mercedes looked out the window, watching as they passed by homes and trees alike. “But of course, I’ll be blamed for that, why even bother….” she said under her breath.

William closed his eyes. “No… No…” He exhaled, “You need to rest first. After we have rested, we will see what needs to be done.” He said head, falling to the side. “Nobody’s blaming you. You’re a grieving mother going to see her child. No one is going to blame you for that. Just rest.”  He repeated, rubbing his hand over his face.

“I wasn’t referring to the media” Mercedes said back to him as she rolled her eyes gently. She leaned back against the seat, her eyes still on the road as she peered out the window. She couldn’t be worried about him, Phillip, or however had taken her writing spot from her. She had to now devise the proper way to handle her children especially Madison.

William’s eyes opened gradually, and he turned his head to look over at Mercedes. “Then what are you referring to?” He asked, doing little now to mask his growing irritation. He might have just spun the perfect narrative but the reality of what had just transpired was beginning to set in.

Mercedes didn’t say anything to the man instead she just sat there with her head resting back against the seat. She rolled her eyes shut deciding within herself that right now was not the time even if she didn’t say it.

William sat up, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. He rubbed his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I...” William shook his head and dropped back against the seat, turning his face towards the window.

#thread: stone cold #thread. #samcedes rp

[inkedsoldier]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA - Chapter Two

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter two of the Sam Drake x reader series. I’m planning on writing two chapters a week, but I will keep you guys updated when I will upload. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Y/N = Your name.

Y/F/N = Your first name.

Y/L/N = Your last name.

Characters: Sam Drake, Nathan Drake, Rafe Adler, Y/N.

Warnings: angst.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Two

All That’s Left

 Scotland, November 2000

Thin frozen puddles crack under your winter boots. The bitter cold creeps through layers of clothing, numbing your fingers until they feel stiff, unable to handle the task at hand. It has been almost ten weeks since Sam’s death. You never experienced grief this bad before. Every memory played like a song in your head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. You were mostly lost because you had lost your other half. You could never get that part back and you wanted it so bad as life depended on it, but it was gone, vanished. Grief is the price we have to pay for loving someone. It is an emptiness of heart, a shear of nothingness that takes over and holds your soul and threatens to kill you. You never got to tell him you loved him one last time. He had been your anchor when you started to drift. There was nothing left of him, except for his clothes and some other belongings.

After you left Panama with Nate and Rafe you travelled to Scotland. There was a part of you that didn’t want to have anything to do with this bloody treasure anymore, but you couldn’t stop here - you had to finish what you had started in the first place. The cross had led you to the Saint Dismas Cathedral. Soon after arriving in the northern third of the island of Great Britain, Rafe managed to buy the land around the historical site. The last few weeks you’ve been running through the list of places the treasure could have been hidden, checking off the ones you had already searched. Your brain was working non-stop on a low battery. There is a sort of tired that needs a good night’s sleep, but this was another kind; you needed so much more. This tiredness was both physical and mental, but you knew that if you would rest the darkness would lurk around the corner. That pain was too much to cope with, too hard to deal with. You had to stay busy.

The fever came fast, robbing you of your strength. Your hands were shaking gently as you reached for the map of the cathedral and the area around it. Nate saw how vulnerable you were and how much of a toll the last weeks had taken. “You need to go home,” he said while taking your hand in his so you would turn around. “You can’t keep going like this.” The weather was rough and cold, but your face was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. Nathan’s eyes showed the kind of gentle concern a big brother has. He touched your forehead and spoke with a soft voice. “Let me bring you home, you are burning up.”

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll take the day off and relax a bit at the apartment. I’m just tired, that’s all,” you told him, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you walked back to your motorcycle, talking about the amount of ground you still had to cover in search of the treasure. Nate was broken too, but just as you he was not one to talk about emotions easily. You grabbed your helmet and told Nate to be careful before you drove off.

Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, was one of the prettiest cities in your opinion. It attracts lots of international tourist and students every year and has plenty of history to learn. You rented a small apartment with Nate in the old parts of town - not a luxurious accommodation like the one Rafe was staying at in the centre of the city. The third floor flat was a traditional stone built located in a quiet residential area. The old home consists of a small hallway, a bright sitting room with fireplace, a small kitchen area, two separate bedrooms – one for you, one for Nate – and a bathroom with shower and toilet. As soon as you step inside tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling on your dirty face. The muscles of your chin tremble and you can hear nothing but your own sounds, like a distressed child. It took the last energy from you as you collapsed to the ground – the nausea crept up from your abdomen to your head as the world went black.

It was only five hours later as Nate entered the small flat. As he opens the door to the living room his eyes turn wide; he spots you on the old wooden floor, not moving and drenched in sweat. In two large strides he reached you, kneeling down checking for a pulse. Knowing that you are still alive, he picks you up and brings you to the couch. The cold feeling of a cloth against your face brought you back to reality – it was soothing the feverish sensation. Nate observed every detail; he didn’t recognize the person looking back at him anymore.  Dark circles around your eyes, cheeks shrunk to half displaying sharp cheekbones and a pale skin. He carded his fingers through your hair, moving it to the side of your face. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen sighing softly, “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.” You didn’t know what to say – you didn’t even know what the hell was wrong with you. You had been feeling under the weather for a few days already, but this scared you. Finally, being able to sit up straight, you had to catch your breath waiting for the sick feeling in your stomach to disappear. Nathan’s eyes were set on you, making you feel a bit uncomfortable while the knot in your stomach only became tighter. You had to get up as fast as possible to not vomit all over the furniture. Nate followed you to the bathroom and decided to call the doctor’s office for advice.

Two hours and a lot of questions later, they finally performed some standard exams and took your blood. You lay down in the hospital bed with Nate sitting by your side, waiting for the results to come back. He had called Rafe to tell him what was going on, but finding the treasure was way more important to him. A few moments later the door opened and a small woman wearing a white coat walked in greeting you, “Hello, you must be Y/F/N Y/L/N. My name is Doctor Brendan.” She rolled a chair towards the end of your bed and started examining the chart in her hands. “So, are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yes. The ache in my body is almost gone and I don’t think I have the urge to vomit anymore,” you told her with a small smile on your face.

“Okay, that is great news. Uhm, I’m not sure if… I mean… when is the last time you had any intercourse with someone?” she saw how you looked at Nate and asked you if you wanted to talk in private.

“No, there is no need to. You can ask me anything in front of Nate. He is my best friend… my only best friend,” you said, whispering the last part of your sentence. “The last time I slept with someone was in August, so if I had to guess… almost ten weeks ago,” you told her with the pain visibly on your face. The memories came flooding back and your eyes start to water.

Flashback Your bodies fit together as if you were made for each other. His arms wrap around your back and in one gentle pull your skin touches. With a laugh he lifts you right off your feet, carrying you towards the bed, letting you fall with a soft bounce on the mattress. “So, you bought this just for me,” Sam chuckles while kissing you softly and you lock eyes for a moment. He got lost in yours and touches your face like it were a holy grail, because that is what you were; a treasure he didn’t want to lose. Never did he dare to think that he would find someone like you; you were the most astonishing girl he ever met – easy to talk to and fun to be around. Sam let his eyes slide over your body, taking in everything; he loved the emerald green bra and panties you bought, just for him. Before you know it, you were both completely naked, and you make love like never before.

The doctor tried to calm you down a bit, offering you a glass of water. It took you a couple of minutes to relax and resume the conversation. You had no idea where the questions were leading to, maybe you picked up a virus of some sorts during all the travel from the last months. Doctor Brendan smiled at you and took your hand. “There is no need to be worried, Y/N. There is nothing wrong with you – but you need to start to take care of yourself better…,” you nodded at the doctor. You knew she was right; you couldn’t go on like this. “…because there is a little human being growing inside you.”

This was not supposed to happen. How could this be happening right now? How were you going to work this out? You didn’t want this. “What? How? No! I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this,” you mumbled while the panic took over your body. Nate didn’t let go of you and tried to calm you down. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N! I got your back,” he told you. The doctor clearly didn’t expect this reaction and left you two alone for a bit. “Please, take all the time you need. I will be in the office across this room if you have any questions.” You definitely needed time to think, to let it all sink in. There was something growing inside you - it was all there was left of you and Sam. Half you, half him.

Tag list: @kiara-arts​

#sam drake #sam drake x reader #Nathan drake #Nathan drake x reader #uncharted 4 #uncharted #series #imagine #rafe adler #uncharted series #fanfiction #reader insert

[doritopaw101]

Arc1, book 2: Chapter 13

As he plunged into the stream Icefire managed to keep one clawhold on the branch. He felt as if he were fighting a spiky wooden enemy, twigs that lashed at him and raked through his fur while his breath bubbled into the dark water. His head broke the surface briefly, but before he could gasp in air the branch twisted and rolled him under again.

Terror made him strangely calm, as if time had slowed down. Part of Icefire's mind told him to let go of the branch and fight his way to the surface, but he knew that if he did that he would risk his life; the current was far too strong for him to swim. The force of the water meant there was nothing he could do but dig claws in and endure. 'Starclan help me!' he thought frantically.

His senses were just beginning to ebb into the tempting darkness when the branch rolled over again and brought him back to the surface. Choking and spitting he clung to it, with water churning along on either side of him. He could not see the bank. He tried to haul himself further out of the water, but his sodden fur was too heavy and his limbs were growing stiff with cold. He did not know how long he could hold on.

Just as he felt that he was about to let go, something brought the branch to a jarring stop. It shuddered along its whole length, almost throwing Icefire off. As he clung on desperately, he heard a cat screech his name. Twisting his head, he saw that the other end of the branch was jammed against a rock that jutted out into the stream.

Fogtail was crouched on the rock, leaning down toward him. "Move, kittypet!" he growled.

With the last drop of his energy, Icefire scrambled along the length of the branch. Twigs whipped across his face. He felt the branch lurch again and flung himself at the rock, his front paws scraping at it while hind legs thrust through the water. His paws had barely touched stone when the branch was swept away from underneath him.

For a heartbeat Icefire thought he would follow it. The rock was smooth; there was no purchase for his paws. Then Fogtail reached down and Icefire felt his teeth meet in the scruff of his neck. With the other cat's help he managed to claw his way upward until he was crouching on the top of the rock. Shivering, he coughed up several mouthfuls of stream water before he looked up. "Thanks, Fogtail'' he gasped

Fogtail seemed in a trance for a moment then looked away "It was nothing"

Tiger-roar padded up behind from the rock. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, "Can you walk?"

"I..I'll live" he groaned. He felt a paw hit his side. He saw the tortie molly from before but there was a tortie tom at her side. They must be related.

"Danger" the molly said

"Rapids help" the tortie tom added

Icefire felt confused but the memory of saving Pikekit and Perchkit ran through his mind. "Apprentices" Goosefeather's voice yowled.

"Icefire?" he felt Fogtail nudge him

"Others are in danger" he replied standing up with a jolt

"What?" Fogtail said in confusion

"How would you know kittypet?" Chestnutclaw sneered

Icefire narrowed his eyes "I just know listen"

The sound of distressed yowls became audible then went down a little but then became higher. "Help!" That was Ebonypaw

"Someone please!" Lightpaw yowled

"Move" Icefire hissed

Chestnutclaw growled "I'm not-"

"My kits are in danger" Tiger-roar stormed past heading to the sound of the voices. Icefire followed the mighty tabby as did Fogtail, he didn't care to see if Chestnutclaw was following. He wouldn't be surprised if Chestnutclaw had tried to have him killed, which would make it easier to be there for the kits.

He nearly crashed into Tiger-roar when the deputy had stopped dead. He looked over to the side, he saw flashes of fur. He didn't think, he acted. He jumped in with reckless abandon, he saw Ebonypaw thrashing in the water. He fought against the rapids as best as he could. He saw the apprentice's head go under and dived down. He remembered his training from Riverclan and kept his eyes open.

He bit into the black apprentice's scruff. He didn't cough as he came to the surface, that would mean letting go. He did his best to swim back but the tide was trying to swallow him. He felt something hit his head and realized it was a stick being held by Fogtail.

"Ebonypaw bite into me and don't let go" Ebonypaw didn't argue. Icefire didn't flinch as he felt the sharp sting of teeth fastening into his flesh, he felt numb to the pain. He wrapped one arm around the black apprentice and fastened his jaw onto the stick and gripped it with his free paw.

Fogtail snapped his head to the side, moving the stick faster until it neared dry land. Icefire pulled himself a few inches onto the ground before falling. Ebonypaw fell into her side, coughing up water then panting. Icefire quickly got up, he nudged the apprentice "Who else?"

"O..wl...Li..ght..P..Pounce..H...Hawk..Ch..ive '' Ebonypaw stammered. Tiger-roar pulled Ebonypaw close to him, licking her ferociously. The dual colored tabby's fur was dripping wet which told Icebelly that he had been in the waves as well but didn't have any luck.

Icefire knew in his gut that cats would die, he wondered if Ebonypaw realized he couldn't save them all. Even if most of the clan was here, they had to think smart and know that the rapids were dangerous.

Icefire dashed back in, fighting with his might looking for the other apprentices. "Icefire over there!" Fogtail yowled

He turned his head and saw Lightpaw clinging to a rock. He pushed against the waves, he felt a wave swallow him for a moment, he quickly went back to the surface. He nearly smashed into the rock Lightpaw was clinging on.

"Come!" He scowled to the apprentice

Lightpaw was frozen, the waves lapping at her white fur. Her eyes closed and her breathing was ragged. Icefire had no time for Lightpaw's trance. He grabbed the apprentice's scruff and made his way back to the ledge. He was almost there when he felt his limp leg caught in something, it was sharp as a thorn. He wanted to yowl in anger but he wasn't going to let Lightpaw die, seeing Redtail looking off only fueled that.

He ignored the sharp pain as it dug deeper into his flesh. He tossed Lightpaw to the side. He fell with a thump, his energy draining, he smelled blood.

"Where are the others! I told Chestnutclaw to get help!" Fogtail mewed as he licked Icefire's injured leg. He saw Tiger-roar toss Chivepaw to the side.

Icefire panted, he wanted to let sleep take him but the tortie molly's stare made him shut it away. The molly said nothing but pointed her head to the right.

Icefire turned his head to see Hawkpaw, Pouncepaw, and Stagpaw climbing a tree but he froze in horror when he saw two figures on the branch, it took him a moment to realize it was Nutwhisker and Mudfoot, he saw another figure but couldn't see clearly who it was, the figure however grabbed Pouncepaw by his scruff and toss him but the apprentice didn't hit the waves but the rocks close by, the crack of bone rang through almost over taking the sound of rushing water.

"NO!" Icefire screeched

"Fox-heart!" Sandstorm's yowl cracked through as a patrol came over, Ebonypaw leading.

The last thing Icefire heard before blacking out was Hawkpaw and Stagpaw's yowl of help.

/

Raveneye sat close to Icefire but was close enough to hear Sandstorm hiss as Thymeroot placed more cobwebs on her wounds. "You did well sis"

"Should've killed them," Sandstorm muttered. Raveneye glanced at Lightpaw, she was awake but her face said all her emotions, grief.

"You almost fell into the water, '' Raveneye said, as he laid a tail on her shoulder. He could practically feel his clanamte's anger and grief. He felt worry for Icefire but hot anger for those rouges. If it hadn't been for Ebonypaw's quick action Hawkpaw wouldn't have survived. Stagpaw had fallen in and drowned. He was so proud of his apprentice and he made her aware of that despite what happened.

It wasn't when Voletail played with prey before he killed it, innocent cats died but then again, it wasn't the first time he watched a cat die and could do nothing to stop it. It felt like Redtail's eyes were on him still.

"Would've been worth it" Sandstorm growled "I lost Redtail and now I lost Pouncepaw"

Thymeroot met Sandstorm's eyes "Redtail wouldn't have wanted you to have died too"

Sandstorm tried standing "I was supposed to protect him, they only reason we know it was those rouges was because of Icefire"

"You did all you could, you didn't predict this Sandstorm" Raveneye mewed, easing her back down.

Sandstorm didn't reply but she didn't need to. Thymeroot finished her treatment and let Sandstorm stand.

Good timing because Bluestar called a meeting. Sandstorm and Raveneye padded out of the den with Thymeroot and Lightpaw following. Sandstorm sat close to the center with Dustpelt and Chestnutclaw.

The clan was gathered, Pouncepaw and Stagpaw's bodies laid close near the high rock with Nutwhisker in the center, bleeding from the back of the head and shoulders from Sandstorm.

"Thunderclan we have the loss of two cats taken way too soon" Bluestar said grimly, she narrowed her eyes at Nutwhisker "Their murder aided by this cat you see before you"

"Little roaches it was easy" Nutwhisker purred

"You killed apprentices" Dustpelt hissed "My apprentice did nothing to deserve death"

"He was little stick easy to toss"

Dustpelt and Sandstorm had to be held back by Chestnutclaw and Leopardstorm. Lightpaw cried once more with Amberpaw and Marigoldpaw pulling her close.

"Bluestar, should we alert Marshstar?" Miststrike asked "He was a Shadowclan cat"

"Nutwhisker is nothing but a rogue" Tiger-roar stated

"He should be treated like one" Nightshade added

'Takes one to know one' Raveneye thought, he felt Icefire rub against him "Let the blood flow" they murmured

Sandstorm launched herself at Nutwhisker "Let's give Marshstar a corpse"

/

Icefire chuckled weakly as Cloudpaw pinned him. It had been a few days when his kits made their choice:

-Flashback-

It had been a day after they gave Nutwhisker's body to Shadowclan to deal with, well what was left from the body when Sandstorm had been done with him. Marshstar said they dealt with it in accordance to Shadowclan law.

It was the day where his kits decided if they wanted to stay in Thunderclan or move to Shadowclan permanently.

Honestly this brought him joy rather than the anger he'd been feeling when he'd been constantly fighting with Chestnutclaw over the custody of the kits, Icefire wasn't deemed a danger he could be around his kits more. Chestnutclaw disagreed and Icefire really wanted to fuck up his face, not that he really could since his leg was still fucked, if it wasn't before it is now. Thymeroot said he'd been lucky to keep the feeling in the leg if he didn't slow down.

Icefire gasped in shock when he first saw Cloudkit "What happened to him?"

"We're not to sure ourselves, at first we thought he got into some dye but his fur started to turn black in some places" Badgerfang admitted

"I like it" Cloudkit purred

"Enough of that" Marshstar said, jumping onto a tree stump "Time to chose kits, go to Icefire if you want Thunderclan and go to Fernshade if you want Shadowclan"

Cloudkit was the first to choose, he padded over to him and nuzzled his foreleg "How's Ash, Fern, Tulip and Brindle?"

"They're fine, they miss you" Icefire mewed softly "I missed you so much my little cloud"

Cloudkit nuzzled in his belly fur deeper.

"I wanna stay in Shadow" Violetkit called from Fernshade's tail "I'm sorry"

"It's alright Violetkit, it's your choice"

"I'm staying too Papa" Flamekit added "Tell Shrike, Rosey, and Sunny I love them"

"Me too" Violetkit cut in

Icefire nodded, he turned to Bearkit "Bearkit?"

Bearkit rushed to Icefire "I wanna stay with you"

Icefire liked his daughter softly "Of course my little cub"

-Flashback ends-

The day afterward, the clan grew.

Maplekit and Aspenkit were apprenticed, Snowkit wasn't ready just yet and Mistlekit was staying to keep him company. Aspenpaw was apprenticed to Chestnutclaw and Maplepaw was apprenticed to Icefire himself. Wasn't too shocked, Bluestar did say she wanted him to train one of her kits.

A duel was had and Ebonypaw earned her warrior name in Ebonyshade after her aunt, Nightshade. Raveneye took his place in the medicine den, receiving more raven feathers and a white rose appeared for him at his ceremony according to him, for silence.

Cloudkit, Bearkit, Rosekit, Shrikekit, and Sunnykit were apprenticed along with Ashkit, Fernkit, and Tulipkit since they stalled if his kits came back. Fernpaw was apprentice to Darkstripe, Tulip-paw was apprenticed to Brackenfur, Rosepaw was apprenticed Dustpelt, Shrikepaw was apprentice to Leopardfoot, Sunnypaw was apprenticed to Frostbite, Bearpaw was apprenticed to Voletail, and Cloudpaw was apprenticed to Bluestar, no Icefire was not surprised.

What he was surprised about was Ashpaw's choice to become a medicine cat and Cloudpaw's path to be a Silverblood. He thought that being a Silverblood was being a warrior then becoming a medicine cat. Yellowfang said that was part of it, an apprentice can choose to be one.

Though he wasn't pleased with Voletail as his daughter's mentor, he trusted Bluestar's judgement.

He did have a time spitting at Seedspots when he saw her insulting Nettlemist just for asking how her day was by saying he was useless. Voletail wasn't any better bringing Embereyes to the point of tears. He chased both of them off with Amberpaw's help.

The clan didn't need this right now. Rosepaw, Owlpaw, Lynxpaw, Swiftpaw, and Petalpaw had also been taken by the flood. They found Owlpaw's corpse under a log and found Swiftpaw injured and soaked to the bone but alive. Goldenflower and Tiger-roar refused to let him out alone, Fogtail wasn't much better.

But they were still looking for Rosepaw, Lynxpaw, and Petalpaw's bodies.

Sandstorm had gone after Mudfoot and tried to find the other rogues without a second thought as soon as Bluestar allowed it. She had come back bloody but she did admit she came close but didn't kill him.

He heard Bluestar's mighty yowl and padded over. "With the flooding still present, only warriors may go to this gathering: Darkstripe, Leopardstorm, Seedspots, Mousefur, Brackenfur, Lichenstrike, Cinderfreeze, Sandstorm, Ebonyshade, Smokefur, Graystripe'' Bluestar dropped her gaze to rest on Icefire.

"Thymeroot Yellowfang, is Icefire fit?"

"Aside from his normal issues, he's fine" Thymeroot replied, her gaze more focused on Swiftpaw

Bluestar nodded "Then you may go"

Icefire was glad, he wanted to see how the flooding was affecting the rest of the clans.

"I don't see why a mentally ill cat should go represent Thunderclan" Seedspots whispered to Darkstripe

"Bluestar pities the kittypets and the broken cats" Voletail sneered "It's sad that we have to share prey with them"

Icefire tried to ignore the jabs as he followed after Raveneye, Ebonyshade, and Graystripe.

The sun had gone down, and twilight blurred the shapes of the forest. Bluestar took them straight through the trees to the place where the stream emerged from a hard stone tunnel underneath the Thunder-path, and Icefire wondered what his leader was planning to do. When they reached the tunnel, he saw that floodwater spread out on either side, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. Water covered the Thunderpath as well, and as the cats watched they saw a monster pass by, moving slowly, throwing up a filthy wave from its round black paws.

Once the monster had disappeared into the distance, Bluestar led her cats to the water's edge on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She sniffed the water, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and cautiously put one paw into the flood. "It's shallow enough here" she mewed "We can walk up the Thunderpath until we're on the other side of the stream, and get to Fourtrees along the border with Shadowclan"

Walk up the Thunderpath! Icefire felt his coat begin to prickle with fear at the thought of deliberately following the tracks of the monsters. Unlike in the city, the cars here were more reckless and he didn't forget Cinderfreeze's accident.

"What if a monster comes?" Graystripe asked, voicing Icefire's fear.

"We will keep to the side" Bluestar replied calmly "You saw how slowly that monster was moving. Maybe they don't like getting their paws wet"

Icefire saw that Graystripe still looked doubtful. He shared his lover's worries, but there was no point in protesting any more. Tiger-roar would just berate them for being cowards but with what happened to Rosepaw, Petalpaw, and Owlpaw maybe they should try their luck.

"Bluestar, wait" Leopardstorm called as his aunt waded into the water. "Remember how low our territory is on the other side of this stream? I can't help thinking it will be flooded there, too. I don't think we'll get to Fourtrees without going onto Shadowclan territory, which is higher"

The last thing Thunderclan needed was to get in a fight with Shadowclan, more than what happened a little while ago. Chestnutclaw had lead a patrol near the Shadowclan border and a fight broke out but no one had been hurt badly or killed.

Bluestar paused with water lapping over her paws, and looked back at Leopardstorm. "Maybe" she acknowledged, "but we'll have to risk it, if it's the only way"

She set off again without giving her cats any time to protest. There was nothing to do but follow. Icefire splashed along the edge of the Thunderpath just behind Leopardstorm, Tiger-roar brought up the rear to keep a lookout for monsters coming up from behind.

At first everything was quiet, except for a single monster traveling in the other direction on the opposite side of the Thunderpath. Then Icefire heard the familiar growling and the splash of an approaching car.

"Look out!" Tiger-roar yowled from the end of the line.

Icefire froze, pressing himself against the low wall that edged the Thunderpath as it crossed the stream. Darkstripe scrambled on top of it and crouched there, baring his teeth at the monster as it passed. Smokefur had pulled Cinderfrost to the side when the pointed gray cat had frozen up. For a moment it's strange, glittering colors were reflected in the stinking water, and a wave washed out from it, soaking Icefire as far as his belly fur.

Then it was gone, and Icefire could breathe again.

"Thanks Smoke" Cinderfreeze mewed

"No problem"

As they reached the other side of the stream Icefire could see that Leopardstorm was right. The low-lying land on the to-do but continued along the edge of the Thunderpath until the land rose and was dry enough to walk on.

Stepping thankfully off the paw-achingly hard Thunderpath, Icefire raised his head and opened his jaws. A strong, rank yet familiar stench filled his scent glands-the scent of Shadowclan! They followed the Thunderpath out of Thunderclan territory, and now a swath of Shadowclan land lay between them and Gathering at Fourtrees.

"We shouldn't be here" Brackenfur muttered uneasily. If Bluestar heard the comment, she ignored it, quickening the pace until they raced across the sodden turf. There were few trees hers, and the close-cropped grass offered no cover for trespassing cats. Icefire's heart was beating fast, and not only from the speed of their journey. If Shadowclan cats caught them, they would be in trouble, but Fourtrees was not far away, and their luck might hold.

Then he caught sight of a dark shadow streaking over the ground ahead of them, on a course to intercept Bluestar at the head of her patrol. More shadows followed, and a furious yowling split the quiet of the night.

For a heartbeat Bluestar quickened her pace, as if she thought she could outrun the challengers. Then she slowed to a stop. Her warriors did the same. Icefire stood panting: the shadows drew closer, and he saw that they were Shadowclan cats, headed by their leader, Marshstar.

"Bluestar!" she spat as she halted in front of the Thunderclan leader. "Why have you brought your cats into Shadowclan land?" Marshstar was tall enough to reach Bluestar's neck so it was somewhat easy for her to try to size Bluestar up. Marshstar had inherited Yellowfang's uncommon height as had Brokentail which had made him more frighting when he was still leader, and above him.

"In these times of floods, it was the only way to reach Fourtrees" Bluestar replied, her voice low and steady. "We mean no harm, Marshstar. You know there's a truce for the Gathering"

Marshstar hissed, her ears flattened against her head and her fur bristling. "The truce holds at Fourtrees" she snarled "There is no truce here"

Instinctively, Icefire dropped into a defensive crouch. The Shadowclan cats slipped silently into a semicircle around the smaller band from Thunderclan. Like Marshstar, their coats were bristling and their tails lashed in anger. Their hostile eyes reflected the cold light of the moon. Icefire knew that if it came to a fight, Thunderclan was hopelessly outnumbered.

#warriors #warrior cats #warriors au #trail of flames au #warrior cats rewrite #warrior cats au #warriors rewrite #albino firestar #fireheart #fogtail #longtail #tiger-roar #tigerclaw #chestnutclaw #chestnutkit #raveneye #arc1 #book 2 #ravenpaw #sandstorm #chapter 13 #tw: ableism #tw: murder #tw: gore #tw: death #icefire

[kshitij1997]

Welcome back!

In the last chapter, I just included a bunch of original characters without commenting anything whatsoever. Talk about being modest :P

Oh well, great ready, because the sisters will arrive in this chapter and the next! And one of them is an OC!

As for the historic events, most are true, but some of them have been invented or moved around in in the European historic timeline to keep the dramatic states high, and to show how vast, small and dangerous this universe is all at the same time. I swear all the ‘world-building’ will make sense as we move forward :D.

All frozen characters belong to Disney, all I own is this head-cannon and the original characters.

On with the story :D

Chapter 4: The birth of someone magical, and the disappearance of another

In the first few months of their marriages, the lives of the royal couple of Arendelle and Corona were good and full of hope, despite whatever happened in the rest of Europe and the world. The British had had enough of their mentally ill monarch, who was on his way out. The loss of the thirteen colonies still cut deep to the British, and when the Confederacy had decided to further challenge the them in Canada, the British proceeded to burn Washington to the ground, even going so far as to provoke the Native Americans to fight on the side of the British. The Confederacy turned to Arendelle for help, which resulted in Arendelle with its considerable naval forces confronting the formidable navy of the British. The duke of Weselton had a vested interest in the transatlantic trade, and so joined on the side of Arendelle. The three naval superpowers fought and ground the war to a stalemate by taking the war to the sea away from the shores of North America. With peace ensured by the Confederacy agreeing to leave Canada be, the British bought influence in Africa filling up the duke’s coffers. And with peace made on good terms with the confederacy thanks to Arendellian diplomacy, Arendelle now found a powerful new ally in Great Britain, moving away from the French. Furthermore, the confederacy was grateful, and called for further imports from Arendelle.

All this happened while the Corsican madlad was subdued in Elba, which was a good thing as when he showed up again to be finally defeated in Waterloo, the Arendelle crown was well backed by Great Britain into a powerful negotiating position regarding the fate of the fallen dictator. As a result, king Agnarr and queen Iduna found ample time to bring long-lost prosperity back to Arendelle. The days of Agnarr being a ditherer desperate to please everyone were long gone; here he was, with the love of his life beside him, ready to take on the world.

However, there was a bout of tragedy in his friend’s life, as King Reginald and Queen Sophia’s first child due in the spring of 1815 turned out to be a stillborn, despite the painstaking efforts of some of the best doctors in Europe. The whole ordeal of a painful birth and the dead infant took a heavy toll on the Queen, who was emotionally broken from the experience. The palace servants found it increasingly common to hear the queen screaming into the night in self-pity and self-loathing, turning to alcohol to ease the pain, and having shouting matches with the king. It was one of those times, when things came to a head.

“It was unfortunate what happened, but we are young and healthy, we can try again.” The king reasoned, holding on to his own stoicism lest he crumble too.

“You don’t get it do you?! It came out of me, lifeless and stiff! HOW COULD I EVER EXPECT TO TRY AGAIN! Who’s to say it won’t happen again?!” Shrieked the queen, weeping tears full of rage.

“So, he’s already an ‘it’, isn’t he?” the king asked with a woebegone face.

“Listen to yourself Reggie, it’s been buried in the ground for almost a month, and you are the one who wants to move on from ‘him’?” the queen sobbed.

“I have been seeing you for that entire time, you think I haven’t tried to move on? I have tried to weave myself through all false sympathies, hoping that maybe I could have my wife for comfort by my side. But now, I can’t even talk to her anymore. All I can sense are the alcohol talking, and a woman who’s admitting defeat. I can’t recognize my wife at all in you right now, Sophie” The king said quietly, with the tears starting to flow from his eyes as well.

The queen fell silent at this. She observed her husband for a good long moment; the loss was acute for him as well. Reginald was always sensitive about those he loved and cared for, and overtly emotional. She may have lost an infant, but both their futures were in jeopardy in the moment, and ultimately, for now she had to think like a queen first, motherhood could come later.

“You’re right. We must think about our futures too, we can’t stay in this quagmire forever. I have been selfish in my sorrow and have left you alone out in the cold to fend for yourself, for that I’m truly sorry. You know what Reggie, let’s regain our strength, and try again after some time. I’m sure we’ll make it. And if I must give up drinking, so be it.” Sophia declared as things became clear to her.

“Yes, we will make it. Hang in there Sophie.” “You too Reggie.” The royal pair told each other as they held on to each other, their hearts placated.

Throughout this time, king Agnarr had provided all the help that he could to his dear friend, and the morbid incident was the talk of the Arendellian royal household.

“I hope they recover from this soon, they deserve a lot better.” Iduna mused during one such conversation.

“I hope so as well, I can’t bear watching Reginald like this, and poor Sophia too” Agnarr said.

“I think there’s a lesson here” “What?” “I think they were not ready for a child yet, they were not serious enough about it. I knew back then that was a mistake. I tried warning the both of them, but they were too excited to listen.” Iduna observed as her husband agreed.

“Who’s to say we are ready ourselves?” Agnarr inquired expectantly.

“Only time will tell; I think we should wait to be better prepared.” Iduna answered.

And so, the royal couple decided to wait. Just as well, as the British and the Russians were twisting Agnarr’s arm to intervene in the Balkans. That was the thing with the British, while the rest of Europe was looking at Africa and Asia, they had their eyes set on the whole world. Anyway, at Sophia’s request, Iduna convinced Agnarr to send a team of diplomats to the region, getting the local leaders to pledge fealty to central Europe, while the British proceeded to wrest control of Egypt from the Ottomans, rendering it a vassal state to the Ottomans to keep them from corpsing and leaving the region unpredictable. The Russians on their part, help instigate a popular uprising against the Sultan and his Janissaries in the fall of 1817. Nasty business, the Arendelle Monarch thought, but at least it would keep his staunchest allies secure. The king of Corona was saddled with enough worries as it was at the time, being nervous about his wife’s second pregnancy, and tried his hardest to keep all stress away from her. But even he couldn’t have guessed what could happen.

The Habsburgs of Austria-Hungary, the Russians and the Ottomans had always seen the Balkans as the buffer that kept everything in check. The day that powder keg blew up, all three would go down. While the Habsburgs had family in the Balkans, particularly in Serbia, which was unsurprising at this point, both the Ottomans and the Russians claimed to be the protector of all Christians in the region. In a surprising and morbid turn of events, the Ottoman Sultan, seething at such an open blow to his power, moved first, and sent in his special troops/assassins to storm the imperial palace of the king and queen of Serbia, shot them multiple times at point blank range, and destroyed their bodies by chopping them to pieces and throwing them into the palace moat. The sheer audacity of the event, not to mention the horrific assassination and the barefaced flexing of the Sultan’s powers, sent Europe by storm, but none more than the queen of Corona, who was the second cousin of the king of Serbia.

The shock made Sophia faint when she heard the news, which unfortunately led to a miscarriage.

The king was beside himself with grief, and the queen was inconsolable. The event affected them so much that they cancelled the thanksgiving service that year, and the queen sunk into depression as rumours started circulating about queen Sophia being victim to the Habsburg curse of madness and melancholy. But the queen asserted herself to the public by putting those rumours to rest. In an unprecedented move for the time, she made a speech to the public, addressing that while the loss of a potential heir and family was tragic, it was not doomsday for the country or Europe yet as they were still led by a courageous and wise monarchy and a common belief of maintaining peace after the fall of Napoleon, and they would weather these storms, as they had done before.

While the public’s beliefs may have been restored, only Iduna learnt the true sorrow that hounded Sophia about the whole affair when she visited:

“I swear I’m fucking cursed” cried Sophia. “That’s silly, Sophia” Said Iduna, as she tried to calm her down.

“Is it really? I lost a second cousin and a child in the span of 48 hours. I honestly believe the forces of nature are out to make me miserable. Various forces at play to ruin my life.” Sophia continued sadly.

“Look, those animals who caused this anguish to you will pay; that does not mean you stop living and give up-” Iduna began but was cut off by Sophia.

“First of all, I know I can handle it, nevertheless by accepting that bleak truth, I would stop being caught fucking unawares whenever such a thing happens.” Sophia claimed.

“That’s a bizarre argument, woman. By that rationale, I’m also cursed, as I lost my entire family in a battle my late father-in law waged. Agnarr should also be cursed, as he also lost his father in said battle. It’s a bone-headed way of thinking, and it leads us nowhere.” Iduna proceeded to coach the aggrieved queen, “What happened was life itself, and it is seldom under our control. Everyone’s surroundings affect them. No one could imagine those killers could stoop to this action, and no one could have known what would happen afterwards. All we can do is to do the next right thing when facing such darkness.” Iduna finished.

“The next right thing? What do you think that should be?” Sophia asked.

“For you, it should be to stand beside your husband in this time, he shouldn’t suffer separately and alone.” Iduna advised. “As married people, we find our strength in our better halves, you know.”

“You’re right. To take a step and step again indeed.” Sophia rose up to embrace the queen of Arendelle.

“Stay strong, Sophie.” “You too, Iduna.”

The British saw this event as an excuse to be the moral voice of the situation, in comparison to king Reginald and the aging monarch of Austria-Hungary, who also happened to be the maternal grandfather of Queen Sophia, who threatened invasion and war. The British struck first by trapping the Ottomans in an embargo that blocked them from the west Mediterranean Sea. The Russians, on the other hand forced them into a crippling treaty that made Greece independent; further reducing the European holdings of the Sultan.

Agnarr on his part, wanted nothing to do with the Balkans or the Ottomans, focusing instead on efforts to pacify king Reginald and observing The Southern Isles. King Christian’s latest wife, his fifth, a princess of Greek origin, had been blessed with triplets, so if there was anyone truly fertile in the continent, it was the king of The Southern Isles. Now a proud father of twelve, the king was well and truly ensured his succession and the crisis that would precede it. Not that it bothered the aging king; he was raised to get what he wanted, by god if he wanted a private army of his own kids, he would get it.

Agnarr mused, that man has clearly nothing else left in his life except an illusion of health and merry. Any romantic dreams that he had died with his second wife, every other lady he courted after became a brood mare. When it came out that his latest wife was involved in an affair, he proceeded to divorce her summarily within the next twenty-four hours, seized all her possessions, and left her destitute and ruined. Agnarr was generally put off by his careless hounding attitude towards everything but was truly disgusted to find out that he had married a sixth time, this time to a rumoured Polish noblewoman in the beginning of 1819.

A fine set of examples the royal couple of Arendelle had around them; the Tsar who was childless, and his younger brothers weren’t too keen to succeed him. Then there was Corona, where queen Sophia had gotten pregnant for a third time, against all odds. Finally, there was king Christian who had already consummated the marriage with his Polish wife, and a rumoured thirteenth kid was on the way. However, the king of The Southern Isles narrowly survived a heart attack during said consummation and decided that even by his standards, he was done.

Well, speaking of pregnancies, Iduna had broken the happy news to Agnarr in the April of 1819, and the kingdom was in celebration. 1819 was an important year in this respect; a lot of future monarchs were born in this year, not that anyone could say for sure at that time. As the summer solstice drew near, queen Sophia started experiencing complications in her pregnancy and panicked, sending king Reginald into a frenzy, calling up all the physicians, doctors and midwives available. As Sophia’s situation grew worse, king Agnarr sent his personal doctor, Dr. Klaus. If anyone had consummate knowledge in medicine and lifesaving, it was this guy.

Dr Klaus took one look at the queen and gave his verdict; if they were to save the queen and the baby, they needed an exotic herb made from a plant called the sun-mirror, a variety of lettuce whose luminous flowers had the rumoured quality of giving eternal life and healing all predicaments. However, it was extremely rare and was critically endangered as a plant, only growing naturally on the island of Cyprus, unfortunately controlled by the Ottomans. The Ottomans found the opportunity to weasel out a deal with Russia in exchange for safe passage to Cyprus for Reginald’s troops, and since king Reginald threatened to blockade the Baltic with Arendelle’s backing if Russia didn’t abide, the Tsar was forced to give up the southern ports of the Black Sea, exposing Crimea to the Ottomans.

However, no harm was done, as the plant was found, brought back to Corona, crushed into herbs and medicine and fed to the queen. The result could not have been better, as the queen had a surprisingly easy birth, becoming the mother to a lovely, adorable, healthy and lively baby girl on the eve of the Summer Solstice. King Reginald was overcome with joy and emotion as he hugged his baby girl and spread the happy news throughout Europe. The baby princess had a full head of blonde hair long enough to cover her whole body, like the golden stocks of the sun-mirror lettuce. She was officially christened as princess Eva Rapunzel, but the king and queen endearingly called her Rapunzel or Punzie. At that point Dr. Klaus took his leave, to care for queen Iduna’s pregnancy.

Arendelle waited with bated breath as Iduna faced a complication of her own by contracting hypothermia; her situation grew serious as her body fell colder and colder, and all the nutrition, medicine, hot coalbeds and blankets couldn’t keep her warm. Moreover, the queen’s eyes had begun to glow with a pale ice-blue glow, and the queen had begun to enter trances, where she would sing in kulning for hours on end. King Agnarr grew desperate; asking Dr. Klaus for any cure or treatment, maybe another sun-mirror herb. Dr Klaus declined; the flower bloomed once in 75 years, and the latest bloom had saved princess Eva Rapunzel. As the king dreaded the worst, Dr Klaus gave some hope:

“Send for Grand Pabbie.”

Said creature was a curious one; a being made of half rock, half human flesh, with leaves and wines for hair. This self-sustaining being used to meditate for six months of the year, and had a massive following of similar beings, living on the borders of the impenetrable mist separating Arendelle from the North, surviving various disasters throughout history by blending into mountainous rocks. It was a testament to Dr. Klaus’ knowhow and network that he knew of this mystical being and his tribe.

The king in his desperation personally went with Dr. Klaus and his royal guard to fetch the rock hermit from the wilderness. At first, Grand Pabbie refused; he had greater responsibilities to the nutrition and survival of the land than some as temporary as human beings, hence the meditation during winter. But when Dr. Klaus explained the whole situation, Grand Pabbie agreed to accompany them at once. Upon reaching the queen’s chambers, the hermit proceeded to put a rocky hand on the queen’s belly and declared “Your majesty, your child has been blessed by the fifth spirit.”

King Agnarr was stunned to hear that “It can’t be, the pass has been covered in mist for years, there’s no way the Northurldra, let alone the fifth spirit could have come to the south, much less affect my wife and child’s health.”

“Calm down, your majesty, for I am yet to finish. Your child and wife are in perfect health; despite the cold and other supernatural symptoms, the queen has no breathing problems or health issues. Her pulse is stable as well. This constellation of symptoms must have puzzled Dr. Klaus; thus, he may have recommended my services.” Grand Pabbie assured the tense king.

“What shall you do now?” asked the king.

“I will perform a simple gesture on the queen’s belly, that should bring her comfort and ease of birth. Now, why exactly did the fifth spirit bless your wife is a mystery, we can assume that either of you have committed a great deed that has placated the lost souls.” With that, the hermit made an eight-cornered crystal shape on the queen’s abdomen. This placated the queen and she drifted into a restful sleep. With that, the hermit turned to the king ”Worry not your majesty, the queen is perfectly safe. However, your child would have a resistance to, or maybe even mastery over a force of nature. Since your kingdom is on the coast, it would most likely be water. As the queen is due near the Winter Solstice, it may be a power over snow, and ice.”

The king was gobsmacked to hear this but was gestured by Dr. Klaus to remain calm. The king realized the prudence of not offending the hermit and thanked Grand Pabbie for his services.

On the eve of the Winter Solstice of 1819, king Agnarr couldn’t sleep; queen Iduna had gone into labour and the process went much smoother than expected. He had just become the proud father of a baby princess with hair a very light shade of blonde, taking after her grandmother, or so the people said. She was most certainly a bundle of joy, bursting into giggles as soon as seeing her parents for the first time and burying her face into her mother’s bosom, which was deemed adorable by the Monarch. The king bent in to pinch her nose and cheek, which prompted a sneeze from the baby princess, showering a whole layer of snow onto her father.

The queen was shocked “What the fuck?! Where did that come from?!”

The king wiped the snow off his face and said ”Iduna, there’s something you need to know.”

At the end of his story, the queen calmed down and kissed the baby princess on the forehead “She truly is a gift from the almighty. Let’s call her Elsa.”

“Very well, Elsa shall be her name.” Smiled the king.

“She seems to like the name” grinned the queen as the giggling baby princess had already started making snowflakes on her fingertips.

Just then, a guard rushed into their bedroom ”Your Majesty!”

“What is it? Are we under attack?” bellowed the king and queen in unison as the sudden noise made the princess cry.

“I don’t know for certain…. I’m sorry for frightening you at this hour of night. But a messenger from Corona brings worrying news.” The guard spoke after catching his breath.

The king and queen met the messenger at once, who gave them the news that made their blood run cold;

“Princess Eva Rapunzel has been abducted in the dead of night.”

Woohoo! That was an action-packed chapter, I think.

Some cute moments, some gruesome moments, some sad moments and some moments of joy.

Or as Murray, the Joker or Iduna would say, that’s life!

The OC family would definitely become bigger next chapter, and we may say goodbye to some characters already, just like life.

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome.

#frozen #frozen elsa #elsa #frozen fanfiction #frozen fandom #frozen fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #frozen agnarr #frozen iduna

[vincent-frankenstein]

To My Heart and Soul

[ 1 | you are here | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | read on AO3 ]

Warnings: major character death, villain/abusive deceit, blood, fighting, panic attacks, creepy imagery

Pairings: logince, hints of moxiety, a tiny smidge of remile and past abusive anxceit

Logan hadn’t slept in a week.

The incident in the graveyard haunted him, chased him day and night, attacked him in his dreams and drove his sleep away. He couldn’t seem to distance himself from it like he distanced himself from everything else, try as he might. There were no scars, no marks, nothing to prove it had actually happened but a few nightmares and a shard of hope that refused to dislodge from his lungs. It was maddening.

Had it actually happened? At first, he’d searched with fervor for the stranger, for the shadows, for something to prove that the incident had been real. He found nothing. Of course he found nothing — the incident made no logical sense. He was delusional, that was all. But still, the damned hope persisted. Could Roman be alive? The thought was far too good to be true, and not logical in the slightest. He had been dead for eleven months. Logan had seen the body. There was no possible way he was still alive.

And there was no way he’d been attacked by shadow creatures. There was no way his broken bones could be healed in mere seconds. There was no way any of that could have happened.

There was no way Roman was coming back.

He had been grieving. The most logical explanation was that he had fallen asleep and dreamed it all. His grief constructed a nonsensical world in which Roman had survived, and in his turmoil, he clung to it, despite how unrealistic he knew it was.

But a logical explanation didn’t keep the nightmares away. It didn’t keep him from flinching at shadows, or searching every face for purple eyes and long, dark bangs. Why couldn’t he stop dwelling? Reason said Roman was dead and gone forever. Logic said he had only been dreaming. So why did his heart continue to insist he was still there?

He couldn’t stop.

He needed to stop.

It took a week of illogical behavior for him to finally make an appointment with his therapist. The post-Roman world he’d finally begun learning how to live in was falling apart, and he needed to rebuild his walls before everything crumbled around him. Dr. Picani had been with him since Roman had died, he’d know exactly what to do. And even if he didn’t… well, Logan needed to talk about this with someone.

He paced back and forth in front of Picani’s chair while he waited for the doctor to arrive, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He’d been like this the whole week, overly tense and overly anxious, like a spring wound far too tight. He feared the moment he’d burst. The soft, warm colors of Picani’s office worked to soothe the awful thoughts cutting through his mind, but did nothing to lessen the hope fear he’d felt since the encounter.

He stiffened as the door creaked open behind him. “Logan! Do you how —” Picani hesitated, taking in Logan’s disheveled, tense figure. “Ah. Not doin’ too good, huh? Take a seat, Lo.”

“I-I am —” His voice cracked and he forcefully cleared his throat, adjusting his tie with a stiff jerk. Talking about his emotions was uncomfortable enough, he refused to break down. “I am concerned that my grief is… resurfacing.”

Picani’s eyebrows furrowed. “How so?” he asked, pulling out his notepad and clicking open his pen. He never moved his gaze from Logan, his amber eyes shining with concern. The words Logan had planned died on his tongue.

He’d pictured this moment countless times since he’d schedule the appointment, planning every possible way to explain his nightmare without sounding like a complete and utter loon. But now, faced with Picani’s searchlight eyes — too much like a friend’s, too concerned, not uncaring enough to explain his problems without expecting pity in return — he found his voice had vanished.

Picani let out a soft sigh. “I won’t force it out of you if you’re not comfy sharing. However, I will say this: you’re allowed to still be grieving. It hasn’t even been a year, Logan. You gotta give yourself time to heal.” He bit his lip, and Logan could feel the incoming cartoon reference. “You know how Pearl couldn’t move on and heal until she could talk about Rose? You can’t expect yourself to be able to heal until you’ve talked about Roman.”

Logan winced. Eleven months, and even the mention of his name sent a pang through his chest. “I am aware of that. I just — I believed myself to be past the denial stage of grief. It is… frustrating.”

“Well, there is no one linear way to grieve. You can think you’re ahead for a while, and then something happens and you’re pushed right back to where you began. It can be frustrating, but you have to remember that grief is more of a cycle than a one-and-done plan.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the end of his pen. “Did something happen, Logan?”

“I…” Logan sighed, shifting in his seat. “Yes. A-A nightmare, I think. I mean — there is nothing else it could have been. As you know, it was our… our anniversary, last week.”

“Yes,” Picani said, his voice soft.

“I visited the graveyard, to see him. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because…” And he went on, forcing the memory from his mouth. It seemed both more real and more imagined all at once, hanging in the air between them, both a memory and a dream.

“And he told me of some plot to… use me to get to Roman, implying that Roman is still alive. It is all highly nonsensical, of course, but I cannot seem to get it out of my head.”

“Ah…” Picani scribbled some quick notes, biting his lip in thought. “It gave you hope, even if it was unrealistic. It makes sense that you’ve subconsciously latched onto it, even though you know it can’t be real. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Logan snapped sharply, running a hand through his hair. He bit back a sigh, his anger fading as quickly as it had appeared. “I just… I don’t want to focus on this anymore. I want to move on.”

“I know,” Picani said gently, “but moving on is a process. One that involves letting yourself feel things, no matter how painful they may be. In order to —”

A distant crash cut him off before he could finish his thought. Sharing a look of confusion, Picani and Logan stood, looking to the door. Picani’s receptionist cried out in fright and Picani started forward, eyes wide, mouth open to call out to her — and before he could, a figure kicked down the door.

“What —” In a flash of blinding green light, Picani was thrown against the wall and held there by an unseen force, face frozen in surprise. Logan stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall as he scrambled to get away from the stranger.

“Sorry, hun. You’re not who I’m after.” The stranger shrugged at Picani, blowing a big bubble-gum bubble and popping it with a sassy flourish. He turned his gaze on Logan, and his eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, seemed to smoulder with satisfaction. “I’m after a certain ratty-ass thot named Anxiety. And a little birdy told me you’ve seen him.”

Logan stammered, spluttering incoherently. A million implications hit him all at once, with roughly the force of several freight trains, and he nearly topped beneath the weight. The stranger before him was holding Picani to the wall with nothing — which implied magic, impossible magic, but magic nonetheless, like the kind the stranger had used the week before — which meant that the stranger had existed, he hadn’t dreamt it, however illogical that was —

Which meant that somewhere, somehow, Roman could still be alive.

“‘Fess up, babe, I don’t have all day.” From the pocket of his long, flowing leather jacket, the stranger produced a curved blade, the dark wooden hilt engraved with softly glowing symbols. Logan stiffened against the wall, his breath freezing in his lungs.

But through that fear rang one clarifying thought. Roman could still be alive, his heart beat with every passing second, a mantra of hope that he didn’t dare block out. He drew himself to his full height, forcing as much confidence into his stance as one could when faced with a knife-carrying wizard.

“If I give you answers, you will have to give me some in return,” he demanded, pushing through even as his voice trembled. The stranger laughed, a high, barking noise.

“Gurl, you are a riot!” he exclaimed, grinning widely. Logan noticed with a jolt of fear that his teeth were pointed, like fangs. “Trying to bargain, how cute! Listen, hun, I’ll show you a bargain. Tell me where that bitch is, and I won’t kill you. And don’t forget who holds the knife in this relationship.”

He twirled the dagger in his hand. Logan threw any plans of negotiating from his mind. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” he insisted. “Who is Anxiety?”

The stranger sighed, rolling his dark eyes. “Tall, dark, edgy, wears a patched cloak, reeks with the scent of complete and utter betrayal? This ringing any bells, gurl?”

Oh. The stranger at the graveyard? Logan hesitated, forcing any recognition from his face before the stranger could read it. The person at the graveyard — Anxiety, apparently — had saved his life. This knife-wielding madman had done nothing but magic his therapist to a wall and threaten him at knifepoint.

“I have no idea who that is,” Logan said evenly. The stranger heaved a heavy sigh, throwing his whole body into the action, and then stuck his knife beneath Logan’s chin in one swift movement, the cold blade nearly close enough to draw blood.

“Try. Again.”

“R-Right.” Logan gulped. “Maybe I do remember him.”

The stranger grinned, eyes lighting up. “There we go! Now, where the fuck is he?” He jutted his hip out to one side, popping another bubble-gum bubble as he waited for Logan’s answer.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, as evenly as he could manage with a knife waiting at his throat. “He left in a hurry, and I haven’t seen him since. I didn’t even know his name before now. I am not involved in this situation!”

“Oh, hun, you are.” The stranger sighed, drawing his knife from beneath Logan’s chin. Logan tried not to sag with relief. Tossing it from one hand to the other, the stranger fixed him with a strange expression. “For whatever reason, good ol’ Anxiety decided to pay you a visit. That’s big, babe, he never visits people. That means he’s interested in you.”

“But why?” Logan asked. “Is it — is it because of Roman?”

That got the stranger’s attention. He froze, the knife nearly tumbling from his hands. “Excuse me? You don’t mean Roman Cygnus?”

The name sent memories flooding through his mind that he shoved away on instinct. “Yes. He’s — he was my husband. Anxiety mentioned something —”

“Holy shit.” The stranger stepped back. “You — he left us for you?”

“You knew him?” Logan’s fear vanished in an instant. He stepped forward. “What do you mean he left you? Is he alive? Where is he?”

The stranger held up his hands, eyebrows furrowed. All the sass had drained from his movements, leaving behind only languid confusion. He regarded Logan in a new light — studying him, almost. “Babe, chill, I —”

“I have not been ‘chill’ since he died! If you have any information, I implore you to give it to me. Then I can assist you in finding this Anxiety.” It was a bold-faced falsehood, he knew; he still had no idea where the cloaked stranger had gone, and even less of an idea of how to find him. Still, he’d managed to grab the reins of the confrontation, and a lead on Roman’s death. Truth no longer mattered.

Not when he could see Roman again.

The stranger spluttered, holding up his hands. “Listen, okay, I don’t —”

And the wall behind him burst into pieces.

#to my heart and soul #celeste's portfolio #sanders sides #logan sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #dr. picani #emile picani #knife tw #logince

[goddesslyfics]

O My Heart (Gilbert x Violet)

My first Violet Evergarden fic. (*＾▽＾) To me, this doesn’t feel like my most polished work. but the past few weeks have been so emotionally draining I was relieved to have completed something and not have my blog fall into another lull.

I will definitely be writing more of these two, so stay tuned!

Read on AO3 here: (x) or below!

“Violet, is something wrong?”

Gilbert watched Violet beneath a drawn brow, feeling much as if he'd swallowed a stone this afternoon and it had just hit his stomach. It had been earlier that day that the two were reunited after several months, the veil of his presumed death lifted. When they’d found themselves face to face, Violet had melted into his embrace as he'd offered it. He’d held her as she became pliant in his arms, and they sank to their knees midway through the door frame, her knees hitting the hardwood of the front porch and his sinking into the plush carpet of the foyer. Not long after, however, had she grown stiff, as if realizing it had been a stranger with his arms around her.

Gilbert had entreated her inside, and following a late supper, the pair retired to the parlor, where they sat side by side on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which crackled with a vibrant life, as though Violet's long awaited presence served as added kindling. As Gilbert had little to share from his time spent in recluse, Violet’s work as an Auto Memories Doll supplied most of the conversation. She had spoken not, as Gilbert had feared, of names and locations as though she were reciting a report. Instead, she regaled him with stories of people and places with a recognizance of fulfilled experience she had not possessed as a soldier in his army. He'd kept himself hidden from her for such purposes, and a long-held sigh was released once faced with the remarkable progress of the woman he found himself enraptured by. Although he’d had to correct her each time she’d punctuated a sentence with Major, urging her to say Gilbert instead, and she ended up dropping the use of titles altogether as a result.

Gilbert had been content-more than content, beside himself-to sit back on the sofa and listen to her continued stories of her new job, her new life. He’d slipped his hand into hers at one point, his left hand, that he’d lost in the war, absentmindedly stroking the plate of her knuckles with his metallic thumb. She hadn't yet seemed to notice.

“Violet?” He prompted once more, when she seemed not to have heard. She’d trailed off, midway through recounting her assignment to transcribe a new script for a famous playwright. “Are you feeling alright?”

She seemed to become alert, then, her shoulders lifting like a automaton doll coming to life as she turned to face him. “I do not understand what I am feeling.” There was a present quality of strain to her voice. She trailed off before picking back up again. “I understand what I do not feel.” She weakly raised her right hand, intertwined with his, off the sofa. They’d both shed their gloves- there was no need for them, when they shared that prosthetic feature.  “I cannot detect any physical sensation in my hands. Do we not have the same prosthesis model? Is yours tuned to a higher sensational degree than mine?”

“I . . . no, it is not.”

“Then, you cannot feel my hand in yours? As I cannot feel your hand in mine?”

“I . . . can’t feel anything.”

A lie.

Though there was not the physical weight or texture of her hand in his, he had been as keenly aware of the contact as he was the fire in the hearth warming his body, or the support of the sofa which kept him seated upright. He had envisioned the moment they’d be side by side again with inexhaustable yearning, and cannot deny that this absolution of the moment absorbed him wholly, as if a magnet were fixed to each of his nerve endings, drawn to her only.

If she were to run from him, and hide in any room of the manor, he would find her. He would feel her, and he would find her. Violet’s presence in the room was such as a bright light, inescapable even if he were to turn away, cover his head and shield his eyes. His heart sunk at the thought that she did not feel he reflects that same light. That she could lose him so easily. He chastised himself for becoming so occupied with this dreamlike detachment, as if he had been watching their exchange pass from outside of his own body. Instead, above, he hovered over that caress of someone’s thumb over her knuckles and wondered, achingly, how it would feel to touch bare skin. Flesh, not metal. He could find someplace safe, her shoulder, her cheek, though he withheld, unwilling to interrupt the machinations of her thoughts that she was struggling to translate to word.

“I felt for a moment, just then, that I was back in my boarding room, in Leiden. I would sit at my desk and complete a report about the day's assignment. I would type them as I’ve spoken aloud just now, and I’d imagine you reading them, just as you’re listening now. But . . . you grew quiet, and I couldn’t feel your hand, and it felt like it always did then. I’d imagine you, and I would have to make myself remember that I was alone.” Her brow narrowed, the line of her mouth tightening. There was sorrow in her eyes, chagrin in her posture, and her grip on his hand was limp, as if she couldn’t care to hold him to her.

“Aside from the two weeks I was hospitalized recovering from our last battle, I have spent each day of the past several months searching for an answer to tell me what your last words to me meant. ‘I love you.’ Due to my position as an Auto Memories Doll, I have been witness to different variations of love, be it between a brother and sister, a parent and child, or a couple to be married. Within each relationship, I learned something new, something that made this love different from the one I saw last. Yet, were I called to summarize what I learned in one sentence, I could.” Though she did not seem to realize, her voice had begun to warble, her eyes water. She looked steadfast into the fire. Her eyes must have been burning.

“Saying to someone that you love them means that you are going to stay with them. Yet, you, Major, left. You told me you loved me, and you left me. That is what I do not understand.”

Gilbert’s head dropped in shame, deflating with a sigh. He could feel Violet’s eyes trained on him, in the same manner one feels the noontime sun bearing down its heat in the summer. “I acted in what I though was aligned to your best interests, Violet. I longed to give you a normal life. Apart from the war, the constant running. I realized, and it was the most painful realization that I’ve come to yet, that I could not be a part of your life when you saw me only as your major. I am unspeakably sorry that the grief you suffered at my expense was false. But I knew all the while, you would never be truly free, with me. I am the war.” He cleared his throat, as the rise of emotion within his chest threatened to overtake him. “I was, at the very least. I am not sure, quite, who I am to be now. I'm not sure I have to right to be who I'd like, regardless."

From his side, Violet whispered, “You’re Gilbert.” And finger by finger, her hands curled around his.The tension in her body left her, aside from that hold. “And you must live, as I must live as well.” Through the clamp in her throat she continued. “I . . . was recently taught what it means to be lonely. What the heaviness in my heart meant. I realized at that moment that I would rather die than live without you. When I was told you were missing in action, I wished very deeply that the same fate would befall me. But I couldn’t die, because you had ordered me to live. I could not work around this contradiction. But I had to, because in taking your final orders, I freed myself from having to take anyone else’s. Now I am Violet, Auto Memories Doll. And I will go anywhere to meet your request.”

“Anywhere?” Gilbert lifted his head, meeting her unwavering gaze. She had presented an inexplicable draw, the ardent hope of her words spoke to a dream he’s been having of late. While her words pierced him, I wished very deeply that the same fate would befall me, they healed him also. He finds himself inching towards her, unbidden. There was a new light in her eyes, the light they both lived by. He wished to remain as close to it as possible.

“Anywhere.”

Their foreheads met. They could both feel it. Their breath mingled, like the currents that combine to make a storm; his heated, hers cool. “There are times when parting is inevitable.” Gilbert sighed, felt his throat tighten. “But in my definition of love, know this; I will always return to you.” His squeezed her hands to punctuate his point, though he knew she would only feel the faint tug to her wired tendons. “And if you need to feel me, tell me.”

Violet held his half gaze, suspending a question between them. The answer settled like a chill, dusting both their cheeks with a highset blush. She moved with pristine stillness, the kind that often got her mistaken for a doll, and closed the breadth of distance between them to lay a kiss upon his eyepatch. Her lower lip grazed his cheekbone by only a fraction, yet the ghost of sensation was enough to render his breathless, a roseate flush drawn up his neck. A kiss. “What do you know of kisses, Violet?” He dared to whisper, though feared he may shatter the air of intimacy surrounding them, which hung suspended there, frozen and fragile as glass.

Violet pulled away slowly, considering. “I know they can be warm, and cold. Their main purpose seems to be to express affection, but they also serve to comfort, and form a bridge of sorts, between two people. That is what I’ve gathered, from my experiences.”

Gilbert pitched a brow in question as a shudder ran through his heart, slicing through its chambers. He hadn’t expected her answer would come from her experience. Jealousy is an ugly creature, he knew this, but its head reared within him for a brief, turgid moment. “And whom have you kissed before now?”

“A young girl kissed my cheek as I was departing from an assignment. She had believed me to be a doll- not an Auto Memories Doll, but one like a child’s plaything, made of porcelain. She was quite surprised to find my cheek was flesh.” Her lips tipped into a smile-did she know that she was smiling?-at the memory of young Ann, who, at eight years old, would have received the first of fifty of her mother’s letters penned by Violet’s hand. Gilbert watched the rememberance play out on Violet’s face with a smile of his own, relief sinking into his chest that the kiss she had spoken of hadn’t been romantic in nature. His right hand, the one supremely capable of gathering sensation, raised to her face. His thumb curved along her cheek, sweeping over the spot where the young girl’s kiss may have been laid.

“I also kissed the forehead of a soldier as he lay dying.” Violet continued. Gilbert’s thumb froze mid-caress. “He had been stationed in Ctrigall, and commissioned a Doll to write a letter home to his parents and a woman named Maria, whom he had developed romantic feelings for. He had been mortally wounded by the rebel faction before I arrived, though I addressed his wounds and wrote the letters. I . . . watched as the life drained out of him.” Here, Violet’s eyes took on a glassy distance as she retreated into the memory, so unlike the story she told last. When her eyes closed so saw that snowed-in cabin, the stain of blood on the hardwood. Gilbert pulled her close to him, to comfort her as a kiss might, though she seemed not to notice. “He asked me to hold his hands, which I did. He was shaking, and speaking aloud to the girl, Maria, though she was not there. He told her ‘I love you.’ That is when I kissed him. However, I was not thinking of him at all. Is that selfish of me?”

She raised her head from Gilbert’s chest, her eyes becoming alert and pleading. “I do not think that is selfish at all.” Gilbert murmured. He could scarcely hear himself over the echo of his heart pounding from within his chest, beating still, despite his previous doubts. “You had managed to escape the war, only to have yourself thrown back into it. War leaves imprints on a person, whether they realize them or not. I’ve heard some refer to it as ‘shell shock.’ You likely reverted back into the mental state of when you were fighting, which prevented you from focusing on this soldier. His battles were not yours, after all.”

Violet nodded in dismissive indication that she heard him, though if she agrees remains unclear. Taking a single steadying breath, she drew herself upright and continued without break. “I delivered the letters to his family personally. When I did, they did the most peculiar thing. They thanked me. They would not accept my apologies for letting him die, instead acting as though I had brought Aidan himself to their doorstep. How could they reserve their anger like that?” A newfound urgency broke through to her tone, her gaze sweeping back to Gilbert with the expectancy that he knew precisely why this abstruse family had refused to cast stones upon her and her letters.

Gilbert merely shook his head, his brows drawn in a sort of mournful consternation. “Violet, you continue to be the most selfless person I have ever known.”

“Self-less?” Violet mulled over the new word, allowing for the taste of it, the meaning, to settle. “Yes, I think you are correct. I hardly ever thought of myself in the past. I only thought about you.”

Gilbert sucked in a breath, and all at once the inches’ distance between them felt like a chasm, a void that must be closed. He raised both hands to cup her face, smoothing the few loose strands of flaxen hair that had escaped from her braids.

“Violet?” She nodded mutely. “Have you ever exchanged a kiss on this lips?”

Her eyes widened. “From my understanding, a kiss on the lips is reserved for lovers.”

“Yes, it is.” Gilbert breathed, sweeping his thumb over the cleft of her lip with a feather like touch. Violet’s crystalline blue eyes widened further, then narrowed in understanding, though she did not draw away. She allowed her eyes to slide shut, shutting off the light from within. She lifted her face slightly, as she’d seen couples do, either as passerbys on the street or in the picture shows her colleagues liked to sometime go to after work. Her heart struck a heightened pace, like a train pulling out of its station. She wondered how fast it'd have to beat to shoot from its tracks, straight from the thin walls of her chest.

Gilbert’s hand slid to her chin, his fingertips just grazing her jaw, tilting it slightly and drawing her lips towards his by fraction, slow enough that she would have time to withdraw. Her stillness kept them align, however, and his lips descended upon hers. Their lips moved in a gentle waltz, exquisitely in tune to their partner. All impressions unreliant to this moment slid away; the crackle of the fire replaced by the hallow and intake of their breathing, the rustle of clothing as the remaining space between them was cleared.

They part once at a loss for breath, feeling rather unsteady in returning to the atmosphere they’d both felt they’d broken apart from. Time resumed in a steady fashion, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room keeping up pace as though it had never stopped.

“Gilbert,” This time she spoke without need for correction. Her hands curled into his shirtfront, holding him to her. “Could you say those words to me, one more time?”

His smile told her he will say those words however many times she’d like.

“Violet, I love you.”

#Violet Evergarden #Gilbert x Violet #Gilbert Bougainvillea #My fic

[damn-stark]

Blinded Ch.25

A/N- So this is kind of just a filler chapter before chapter 26 which I’m so excited to write!! Anyway I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was difficult writing this one. Leave your thoughts :)

A/N- also HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!

Warning- Angst, talks of death, talks of losing someone, fluff :)

Pairing- Poe Dameron x Solo!reader

Takes place during- The Rise of Skywalker

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

—

“I’m not ready to be without you.” You whisper, clutching onto your mother’s cold hand in yours, silent tears rolling down your cheeks. “....I don’t know what to do....not without you.” You rest your forehead on her hand, more hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The impact of her death didn’t really hit you until you saw her covered in the white sheet. Chewie’s roar when you told him broke your heart, he had known her the longest and he roared the loudest you’ve heard him roar, he was distraught, he fought off Poe’s and Finn console, just like you did. Some part of you didn’t want to believe that she was gone, you hoped that what you felt was wrong, you didn’t want to believe it.

You couldn’t believe it; that the one person who helped you throughout your struggle from the darkness that blinded you (beside your grandfather) was gone. She was your rock throughout your process and now she was gone.

When getting to base, people would stop and stare, whispered to one another, they parted ways when they saw you walking down the path they created to lead to her. It was like they were almost afraid of what you would do because of the news. Some of your friends tried to come talk to you, to give you their condolences but all you could do was give them a blank stare and continue moving; but when you reached her...when you finally saw the truth, you felt a mind numbing pain, you fell to your knees again, breaking down in front of everyone, not caring if others saw your emotional state. Poe tried to help you, he really tried but you couldn’t. You pushed him away...all you wanted was one person...Ben...and he wasn’t here.

“I’m all alone now mom...I’m alone....dad is gone, you’re gone and....Ben...I hold hope for him but I don’t know...I miss all of you.” You let out a low whimper, and stay frozen in place. Minutes passed with the quiet surrounding you, the loneliness being more painful than any other pain you could feel. You wiped the tears from your face and looked up at her, your hand never letting go of hers, you swallowed back the tears that still threatened to fall; you briefly closed your eyes, trying to calm your shaking body, but when you opened them again you saw her and the tears were unavoidable.

“I failed you....you wanted me to talk to Poe...you really did...but I can’t, I’m scared.” You paused, a silent whimper escaping your lips. “...I’m scared of knowing the truth...he hates me...I can’t hear that....I can’t...it was my fault I lost our baby...and I know he hates me for it....” you drop her hand and let your head drop onto your hands, letting out a heavy sigh.

“y/n.”

You whip your head back, startled by the sudden voice. Upon seeing Poe standing by the entrance, you swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze. You didn’t know if he had heard any of it or if he heard nothing at all, all you knew was that he was walking towards you. You shift in your seat, looking down at the ground, trying to avoid looking up at him.

“Please, y/n...just let me talk to you...let me hug you...please.” He crouched down and gets to your eye level, he tilts your head up with his knuckle. “Just listen, okay?” He pauses moving one hand to cup your cheek. “oh, baby...I could never hate you....I don’t...please just-just let me hug you.”

He heard it...all of it.

When you meet his gaze, you notice his eyes are red, his own tears rolling down his cheeks, you knew your mother meant a lot to him too—and you pushed him away, selfishly ignoring his own grief.

You stood up and he thought you were going to leave so he tightened his hold on your hand, he looked so desperate for you to stay, for you just to listen and talk to him, to let him console you. “...I’m so sorry...” your voice cracks and another stream of tears flow down your cheeks; instead of walking away you throw your arms around his shoulders, while he immediately wraps one arm around your waist and places the other one a the back of your head, securing your hold against him.

“I don’t hate you...I don’t, I could never, none of it was your fault, none of it.” He whispered his own voice breaking as his own tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry you lost her....but you aren’t alone...you have me....you have me. Okay?”

“Okay.” You repeat softly, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. “You don’t hate me? Even after I lost the—”

“No. It wasn’t your fault.” He pulls away only far enough to cup your cheeks and meet your eyes, “is that why you’ve been so distant?”

You look down, your action giving away the response he needed.

“Listen to me...I love you so damn much...I love you, I couldn’t imagine losing you, I can’t; I’ll love you until every star in this damned beautiful galaxy dies, remember?”

You let out a small amused huff of air, a small smile growing on your lips. “...until every star in this damned beautiful galaxy dies....I love you.” You say before he pulls you in for another hug. That hug and his words reassuring you, letting you finally know the truth, the one you had been so scared to know, the one your own mind made up..the one your self guilt made up. His reassurance removed the doubt about him leaving with Zorii....but not the jealousy completely, no that was still there.

You pulled away, only far enough to caress his cheeks, you smile again and he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. As you’re about to turn back to your mother, you freeze, everything around you zones out, letting you see nothing but darkness. Your smile slowly fading away, you don’t hear or see Poe’s worry. Suddenly you feel something within you lift off your whole being...this darkness. This darkness you had felt for years, disappeared. Slowly you turn towards this familiar feeling, familiar presence.

A soft gasp exits your lips, slowly the darkness begins to turn into light, revealing a scenery, only it wasn’t you at base, no you were somewhere else...Kef bir. Your smile instantly grows back as you lock eyes with one person....Ben.

“Ben?”

He stands their uncertain on what to do, tears leaving his eyes as he looked upon the sight of your mother. His lips parted to say something but instead he formed them into a long frown. Everything about him had changed, he no longer looked so stiff, so cold, his face give away emotions that Kylo’s didn’t. His stance completely changed, everything that made him Kylo was...finally gone.

“Y/N.” He mutters, his eyes shifting to look behind you, noticing that their was someone else with you, wondering what was wrong; but you didn’t let that affect you instead you stepped forward, offering him your hand so he could take it—like when you were younger, when you would comfort, talk, and let each other in to your plans and emotions, just through the force.

He reaches for your hand, and when your fingers finally touched, you felt everything, saw what had happened after you left, felt what he felt for your mother’s passing...saw what his final push was that turned him back...made him return home. Your father. Your eyes shift back to meet his, a smile on both of your faces. A smile you missed on him.

“You’re back...” you whispered as you gripped onto his hand before pulling him into a tight hug. Your action had surprised him but he quickly hugged you back, more firmly. “I missed you.” You say softly before pulling away.

“Y/N—”

“Tell me later, just tell me everything later...okay?” You knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to express; but what you needed to do was find Rey, and the truth is you knew the big fight was approaching, it was inevitable and you wanted to hold hope that you would see him again, that when you really talked to him it would be in person, after you all won this war. “We have to find Rey. She’s going through a darkness that she’s struggling with, we need to help her.”

“I know what we have to do.” He responds, he looks over your shoulder one last time before looking back at you. “Thank you, sister.” He outstretches his hand, opening his palm to reveal the golden dices. “They’re yours.”

You smile softly and take it from him, you look at the chain hanging from your hand and then back at him. “Their ours....he was OUR father.” You say as you break the chain, making them into two individual dices instead of how it was before.

He takes the dice from your hand, clutching it in his hand and securing his hold on it. “I’ll talk to you later.” You shake your head in agreement, watching as he disappears, letting you tune back to base. Slowly you turn back to Poe who has been watching worried, puzzled and a little scared.

“What just happened?” He asked making you smile wider.

“It’s my brother...Ben, he’s back.”

-

“Still nothing?” Finn asks as you float back to the ground, waiting impatiently for an answer on Rey’s whereabouts.

“No, she keeps blocking me out.” you let out a deep sigh and run your hands through your hair. Trying to connect with Rey; it was a good distraction for you, trying to find her kept your mind busy and away from thinking too much of your mother’s passing. You knew you couldn’t be crying by her side all day even if that’s all you wanted to do.

You were needed here, to try and find a way to destroy the sith fleet that had appeared, a fleet that all contained weapons as powerful as star destroyers. The fleet had already destroyed Kijimmi and even if Kijimmi wasn’t your favorite place, the innocent people in that planet didn’t deserve to die that way. None of them did. What was worse and added more stress to your already troubled mind was that the resistance was next and anyone who didn’t bow down to them. Anyone who didn’t bow down to the final order. That’s why you needed to find Rey now more than ever.

“Try again.”

“Finn I have she-”

“Hey don’t touch that. That’s my friends.” Finn interrupted quite loudly, directing his comment to D-0 as he searched through Rey’s tool box.

“S-s-sorry. She is gone?” The little droid asked rolling back after Finns words.

“Yeah she’s gone, we don’t know where.” He says quietly, turning back at you, so you could try and reach her again.

“I miss her.” The little droid says making you smile slightly.

“Yeah we do too buddy.” You say as as you reach your hand to rub the top of his head only for him too roll back away from your touch.

“So what’s your name?” Finn asked the droid.

The droid didn’t hesitate to answer, giving Finn his name and then rambling on, you tried to ignore him and focus on Rey but then something caught your attention. It was something he said about ochi vestum, about a certain little girl he was supposed to take from Jakku and to Exegol, alive.

D-0 had been traveling with ochi, he had the exact coordinates and other plans for Exegol. When Finn and you heard, you both immediately looked at one another knowing what you had to do next. So quickly you rushed to go find Poe.

“Poe, we’ve got to talk to you about something.”

“I’ve got to talk to you about something.” He says making his way to meet both Finn and you half way. “I can’t do this alone, I need you both in command with me.”

You tilt your head slightly to the side and smile, touched by words. You knew your mother had chosen him as acting General, you had helped her decide, their was no doubt in your mind that he would be a great general; your mother has always been preparing him, grooming him to be the General that the resistance needed...when she couldn’t be anymore.

“Look this droid has—thank you I appreciate that. Generals.”

“General”

“General”

After repeating to one another the title that Poe had given you and Finn, you continued explaining what you had found thanks to D-0. You explained the plan ochi had, up to the information on a potential airstrike; finding that finally made you all go and connect D-0 to a holocomputer only to see that it had no coarse on how to actually get to Exegol, just a lot of admiral readings like magnetic cross-fields, gravity wells, solar winds; things just made no sense on how a fleet could be there. But then again it was Palpatines fleet, it shouldn’t surprise you on how he manages to do that.

As soon as you found that though, Threepio came up to all you saying that R2 was receiving a transmission from your uncle Luke. Only that wasn’t possible.

“That’s an old craft ID, that’s Luke Skywalkers X-wing.” Poe announced, as you kept focusing on the marker finally knowing exactly who it was on the X wing. Rey. Discreetly without anyone noticing, you backed away from the huddle that was around the holocomputer and went somewhere more alone where you could talk to Ben, to let him now that you finally found her.

After finding Rey, you would have thought that it would bring more joy but it didn’t; it’s not that you didn’t want to find Rey, no, it was just the reasoning behind it. You knew why she was going; she was going to fight Palpatine. And that changed everything for you, you knew that you no longer were going to fight alongside Poe or Finn like you had had planned, you were going to fight alongside Rey and Ben.

Something inside you always knew that, but it was terrifying to think that you were going to fight Palpatine head on, he’s been the darkness that has been after your family for so long. An evil that they’ve fought hard to get rid of but couldn’t. And now you knew that it was up to Ben, Rey and you to finally finish it once and for all, get rid of the evil that was Palpatine.

Once you made sure no one was around, you closed your eyes and focused on Ben, focused on his presence, on reaching out to him through the force—Part of you was still scared that he would ignore you like Kylo would; but that wasn’t the case, Ben didn’t ignore you, he immediately reached out to you too.

A small smile appeared on your face on seeing him but it quickly faded away. “Ben, I finally found Rey she’s going to—”

“Exegol, yeah I know.”

You sit down, letting out a heavy exhale and looking down at your hands.

“You’re scared....why?” He asks with worry lacing in his voice.

“Because....I know we’re going fight Palpatine; and it scares me, anything can happen when we’re there, and that scares me.” You admit softly your voice cracking as tears pooled in your eyes.

“You’re not going alone—”

“I know—”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you....I promised to protect you—always? Remember?” You look up to him and offer him a sad smile. He looks down at your hand and wants to reach for them; to grab them and comfort you but when he saw your metal hand, the memory of what he did resurfaced. So instead, he put a hand on the side of your head, gently making you look up to him. “I’m here now, y/n. We’re going to fight him together. All three of us, together.”

Your smile widens, and you repeat his last word with more reassurance. When he disappears again, you knew he had left you with a better set of mind, less scared; but that fear wasn’t competently gone, it still lingered in your mind. Majority of the reason why you were so afraid to leave and fight Palpatine was standing a few feet behind you. Poe. He had listened to every word you had said. He didn’t need to see who it was you were talking too, because he knew immediately who it was, one of the main reasons being that you were alone, talking to nothing, like before.

He also didn’t need to hear your full conversation to know you had changed your plan; that you no longer were planning to fighting alongside him but rather somewhere more dangerous; he began to move forward to reach you and convince you otherwise but someone unexpected stopped him, someone who had been listening too. Alya.

“I know what you’re going to do, don’t.” She said making him look at her with a narrowed look. “I know you don’t like me, and you probably don’t trust me but trust me when I say this, you won’t stop her, you can’t. She’s stubborn that way. She’s going to fight Palpatine alongside her brother and Rey.” She continued, making him look at Alya (who had came alongside Lando, how unfortunate for Poe.) and to you; you had your head in your hands, letting him know you were clearly upset.

“She’s going to make it out, she always does. She’s one of the best fighters I know. She’s going to make it back—”

“You don’t know that—”

“I do, because beside being force sensitive; I know her brother, Ben. Hes always helped her, protected her. She’s safe with him, she’s going to be okay.” She finished, looking back at you; who was now making their way to them. Poe wanted to argue, to stop you but he knew....Alya was right; he knew he couldn’t stop you, all he could do was hope you would make it back, hope any of you would.

“Getting along?” You tease as you see Poe and Alya next to each other.

“No. I think he hates me.” Alya jokes making you laugh but not Poe.

“Thank you for coming, Alya. It really means a lot, not only to me but the rest of the resistance.” You finally say, leaving the previous conversation alone.

“I told you I would consider it.” She said smugly.

You turn your head back noticing Poe had stayed behind as Alya and you had continued walking. “Poe we have a war to plan, come on.” You tell him. And even if you weren’t going to fight alongside them, you still needed to make sure they were ready. Needed to make sure they could win.

-

“As long as those Star destroyers are on Exegol, we can hit em.” Finn announced to all of the resistance that were gathered around listening intently to Poe and Finn who continued to lay out the battle plan.

Even if you weren’t going to fight alongside either the ground team or air team, you still helped them, helped come up with this plan. A plan you hoped, you knew would guarantee their win; because as long as they fought together you knew, they would win, you all would win.

“We’ve got friends out there, they’ll come if they know theirs hope. They will. First order wins by making us think we’re alone. Good people will fight, if we lead them.” Poe explained, giving the resistance the speech they needed, before going to fight the final fight.

“Leia never gave up, and neither will we. We’re going to show them we’re not afraid.”

“What our mother and fathers fought for, we will not let die. Not today, today we make our last stand.”

“For the galaxy, for....Leia. For everyone we’ve lost. They’ve taken enough from us, now we take the war to them, we will win this war, for them, for us, together. Once and for all.” Cheers echoed throughout the room, everybody was inspired and ready to finally fight. And they were going to do just that. After you finished the speech everyone scrambled all over base, getting ready, expressing their goodbyes to their loved ones just in case. Like you were going to do too.

-

“I know buddy. I’ll be careful.” You assure Chewie as he has you in a tight hug. “Take care of the ship, and you, okay? We’ll see each other again.” You finish, lasting a while longer in his embrace until he pulls away, rubbing your back one last time before he walked off into the Falcon alongside Lando Calrissian.

Now Finn.

When you spot him he’s talking to one of your own squad members, the ones you had taken under your wing after they left the first order behind.

“Take care out there, y/n.” Tic says before moving past Finn and you.

“You better take good care of them, General. I’m leaving them in your hands.” You say with a small smile, referring to your group of ex-stormtroopers that Finn was now going to command.

How poetic.

“I will. You take care of yourself out there. And take care of Rey.” He tells you, before wrapping you in a quick hug. You didn’t need to say much to Finn, he already knew what you wanted to say, he knew how you felt, their was no need to say anything out loud; so that’s why when you pulled away you were fine, no tears were spilled. You were fine...until you spotted Poe. That’s when every ounce of strength you tried to maintain faltered, tears soon brimming your eyes.

When you’re inches away from him he doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in a hug. “Poe, I have to—”

“I know what you’re going to do. Even if I don’t like the idea of you going to fight Palpatine, I know I can’t stop you.” He says softly, wrapping an arm around the back of your neck and his other one around your waist.

“I’m scared.” You admit quietly making him sigh deeply, trying to fight back his own tears.

“I’m scared too....but I need to believe we’re going to see each other again. I need that hope because the other alternative is to damn upsetting.” He stops and he holds you closer to him. “I’m glad that we’re okay again, I couldn’t imagine going into this fight, with us not good with each other...I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You held onto him longer, just a while longer before you had to let him go. He cupped your cheeks and gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead before he had to make himself get on his X wing. You hated saying goodbye to him, to all of them, but you needed too, just in case.

Before you could get onto your own X-Wing, you make one last stop. “You’ve got the message right buddy?” You say to BB8 as you crouch down to his level; he chirps in agreement but then his beeping gets sad, expressing his sadness. He didn’t want you to go, he wanted to go with you but they needed him more than you did. “I know buddy..just promise me you’ll show him the message if I don’t make it back.” You continue, making him once again chirp in agreement before you pet the top of his head.

As you stand up you walk into your X-wing and put on your helmet. You look at base one more time, taking in the scenery of Ajan Kloss, getting yourself mentally prepared before you could fly away; fly too the final fight.

“Just one final fight, just finish what my family hasn’t been able to.”

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Tagged- @treblebeth , @mcrvellouslystcrk , @themythicallifeofesmerelda , @thescarletknight2014 , @sfnari , @bitch-imma-head-out , @arsonistvoyager , @chloe-skywalker , @emotionalcal , @theholycakehole , @justxriot , @stvrdustalexx , @the-dream-catch3r , @theoralpha , @sleepyblossom , @basically-hayley , @iamaunicorn4704 , @sneekygeek , @carisiswaistcoat , @creativelyquestioninglife , @daniellajocelyn , @wnygirl2012 , @imjusttryingtocatchavibe , @holy-kylo-stars , @patdsinner33 , @avmps , @xxrouge-lexxx , @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @winter-scolder , @constantdisgrace , @valeecruz16 , @angelicaxhouston , @x-thunderbird-x , @discogrrl

#blinded #star wars #star wars rise of skywalker #star wars fanfiction #starwars #Poe dameron #finn #rey #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron imagines #poe #Ben solo #leia organa #general organa #chewbacca #fanfiction #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #TROS

[cupcakemolotov]

The Ache of You (Beneath my Skin) Part One

A big, big thank you to @accidental-rambler who so very kindly told me that this did not suck and did some very fast spot checking since I am writing on my phone, per usual. All remaining mistakes are mine!

This story follows this drabble but you don’t have to read it to understand, it just gives this story some context. This going to be Jyn/Cassian, so please do not read if that pairing bothers you. I am also going to hopefully be going heavy on the BroTP that is Jyn/Bodhi/Cassian. :)

Hoth was a frozen hell.

The first few days Jyn had spent in its icy corridors, shivering until she'd have sworn her teeth had cracked, she'd welcomed the discomfort. The cold seemed like penance for her audacity to live. She'd laid in her bunk, wrapped in every piece of clothing she’d been given, her thin pillow pulled over her head, knees tucked into her chin, and she’d counted her breaths until her fingers and toes thawed.

It was taking less time each night, generators and sheer determination turning the base into something livable. Each day was a slow grind, the low impact work Jyn did as mindless as the rest of her was numb. She'd gotten good at catching sleep where she could, and so she dozed in snatches, never quite drifting off, unwilling to face her nightmares. Eventually, exhaustion would catch up and she'd wake frozen in her bed, limbs locked in silent horror, her mind's betrayal harsh in her throat.

But if the nightmares weren't getting better, they were becoming familiar and no longer did she press her face into her blankets to muffle her tears. She hadn't cried since Saw had abandoned her at sixteen. She’d stood drenched and angry, with her tears locked somewhere she couldn't reach them, after Eadu. But her first nightmare after Scarif, Cassian's blood still a warm memory on her lips, and she'd cried like a child.

Her last clear memory of Cassian was of a face pale with exhaustion and blood loss, the way his fingers had slipped away from the cuff of her jacket as he collapsed. Her dizzy panic and desperate calls as she crashed to the ground next him, vision greying due to her own injuries. She’d woken alone, the only tangible memory that everything hadn't been a nightmare was the necklace around her throat and the lingering ache in her ankle she couldn't shake.

Cassian was alive, but no one would tell her more. Bodhi was a name no one knew, demands for the pilot’s status falling on deaf ears. It wasn't that they were unsympathetic, but she wasn't one of them. For someone who had spent a lifetime not belonging, she'd never resented it so thoroughly.

But Jyn was nothing but stubborn, and so she'd set her teeth and locked away the rage and impotent frustration that got her nowhere. Saw had taught her to hold, until the damn broke and she couldn't hold anymore. How to tie up her emotions, lock them away and face what she could and slowly chop away at the things she couldn't.

But Jyn hadn't realized how much of herself she was pushing down and out, until she saw Bodhi.

Perhaps it would be best to say that Bodhi had found her, hobbling on a healing leg so similar to her own, face tired and worn and hollow at the edges. But his fingers had been warm as he grasped her hand, lips compressed for a long second as he breathed. Almost as if he'd needed to see her, to know that she was real.

I'm the pilot.

“They said you were okay,” Bodhi murmured finally, eyes skating across her face as he shivered. “When we woke and you weren't there. They didn't say they'd sent you to the bowels of hell.”

Jyn grinned a little, startled, and didn't have the urge to rip her hand free, to jerk away from human contact. This was Bodhi. They weren't friends, not yet. Whatever threads connected her to him, the borrowed time they shared, it wasn't something as easy or simple as friendship. But, Jyn thought, maybe that's where she was wrong. Maybe it was friendship, she just hadn't known it could burn like this.

“Have you eaten?”

Bodhi shook his head, huddled a little tighter into his jacket, jaw locked. “I'm worried I'll crack my teeth.”

That flash of humor, the downward angle of his eyebrows, and Jyn shrugged to hide her amusement. The frayed, unraveled parts of Bodhi seemed to be reknitting. She could see the trauma lingering in the tightness of his eyes, the uncomfortable way he stood so far into the open, but she too, knew that trauma intimately.

“It's better than being cold and hungry. Come on, let's find you a jacket, and see about getting you some of the Tauntaun piss they’re calling caf around here.”

Bodhi frowned a little, falling into step next her. “What's a Tauntaun?”

Jyn patted his shoulder, only the slight jerkiness giving way to her unfamiliarity of the motion. It was less comfort than something bracing, but Bodhi straightened beneath it anyway. Just a little. She grinned, mouth curving just slightly upwards, and watched Bodhi from beneath her lashes.

“What's a frozen hell without a few creatures?”

There were ghosts on Hoth. Not terrible ones, for only stubborn things survived in this cold, and some nightmares had more sense. But the hallways were an endless loop and daylight was a blistering curse with its frozen sky. She thought having ghosts was fitting for a placed named Echo Base.

Jyn had named them - Baze, Chirrutt, and at her most uncharitable, K2. But that wasn't quite right, because it was K2 she found herself talking to most often inside her head, as she chipped away at ice. The droid who had become ingrained in her internal monologue.

Would you like to know the odds of succeeding in digging this tunnel by hand?

Jyn Erso, you could remove fifteen percent more ice if you simply used proper equipment.

Why would I haul ice? My joints would freeze.

Jyn didn't know what it meant that she found it easier to talk to the dead than the living. She never had before. She’d watched her mother die, had held her father as death rattled in his throat, and had stared silently at Saw’s death pyre of rock and ruin. They lingered at the hollow edges of her conscious sometimes, but it was Baze she expected to see in a shadow, and low murmur of a prayer that she rasped beneath her breath in between tired steps had never belonged to her.

Grief and guilt did strange things to a person’s mind, and she carried her weight in both.

She did her best to ignore the emptiness at her back, the cold line of her spine.

But Jyn realized that she was still adjusting to this strange thing of caring for the living as she watched Bodhi eye the gruel in front him with compressed lips and unsteady hands. The careful way he avoided looking directly at people, as if they'd know what he had been, left her fingers clenched on top of her thighs.  

She'd grown used to the odd stares, the watchfulness as she was given grunt task after another. She wasn't quite officially a rebel, and her family legacy was thick in the air here. Alderaan was a whisper, a jagged breath that never quite shook loose, and Jyn wondered if their ghosts could scream at her across the void too.

Not fast enough. Not soon enough. Millions and millions dead, with only a single, bitter hope that a single weakness could be exploited. That her father had not failed them.

At least here, she didn't have to look at the stars and wonder. If death came, she'd be blind to it.

But there was an edge to the mess now, and Jyn hated it. Chin set, she stared back, until people looked away. Without Bodhi, none of them would have the tiny flicker of hope they had, and this icy hell would certainly have been their tombs. If her presence reminded them of that, then so be it.

“Not everyone joins the Empire because they want too,” Bodhi said suddenly, chin jerking up, spoon clenched tightly between his fingers. “Not everyone believes.”

Jyn said nothing at first, because she wasn't certain what she could say. Her father had run and been caught, what chance did someone like Bodhi have? But here Bodhi sat, half frozen and stiff from injuries, lips tightly compressed, and so she tried.

“I know.”

He blinked, a ripple of something moving across his skin, and then he tucked himself beneath the curve of his shoulders and took a careful bite. The edges of his mouth twisted, and she might have smiled.

“You get used to it.”

Bodhi sighed. “Cassian said something like that. Medfood isn't better.”

Jyn attempted nonchalance, but her ability to breathe disappeared. Cassian. Cassian said. Emotion she couldn't name crawled into her lungs, her throat, until it nearly choked her. Struggling for her next breath, she managed it, but barely. “How is he?”

Her words were flat, the heavy strain nearly absent from her voice, but when Bodhi looked up, his eyes said she'd given enough away. Once, that might have bothered her, that she could be so easily read. But she found with Bodhi, she didn't mind as much.

“Alive,” Bodhi says carefully, swallowing. “His back..”

Jyn looked away, teeth clenched to stop her demands. Bodhi took another bite, stared intently at his gruel.

“He said to tell you not to worry.”

Her gaze darted back to his, teeth catching the tip of her tongue to stop her from letting words spill out. She tried not to think of the way his fall had echoed, each reverberating slam of Cassian’s body vibrating through her fingertips. The damage he'd wrought on himself, climbing after her, saving them both.

“The hospital was evacuated,” Bodhi said at last, catching her gaze. “Bacta tanks aren't easy to relocate…”

She sat still for several long moments, thinking through the things Bodhi didn't want to tell her. Somewhere, Cassian was struggling with injuries bad enough they'd kept him with the bacta tanks, even as the rebel base had moved fast to escape the possibility of the Death Star.

“Thank you,” Jyn says finally, pulse uneven in her ears.

Bodhi nodded and set about finishing his meal with quick urgency. “He was mad, you know.”

She blinked, arched both brows. “Who was?”

“Cassian,” he shoved his empty bowl away, grinned a little. “It's hard to tell, but when we found out you'd been sent here instead of put in the med bay, he was angry.”

It did something funny to her chest, knowing that Cassian had reacted to her absence and she licked chapped lips. “My injuries weren't as bad.”

A lopsided grin. “So we were told.”

Cassian hadn't cared. Ignoring that thought for later, she nodded towards the hallway. “You need to be somewhere?”

“They'll find me when they need me. You?”

“Back to digging,” she said with a shrug. Maybe the basic job should’ve frustrated her, but Jyn was used to manual labor. She was terrible at being still, and this gave her something to do. At least, that's what she told herself when the frustration and anger tightened her lungs and closed her throat.

She was a thief. She had no patience for orders she couldn't trust. Maybe Saw had seen that in her, all those years ago. But her life had been filled with other people’s hard choices and her own refusal to commit. What had she told Saw?

It's easy if you don't look up.

Well, she was growing more comfortable with this crick in her neck every day, her eyes watching and assessing. She blamed Cassian, her father. Both had turned this fight into something personal, no longer could she allow it to be something abstract, a political thought.

I’ve been in this fight since I was six years old.

But where did a girl who lived her life running fit into a rebellion?

Sometimes she dreamed of eerie green light. Of a terrible silence and roaring in the distance, as the horizon disappeared. What did a world sound like, when it died?

Captain Cassian Andor arrived at Echo Base on a wave of news. Hot and cold beneath her thick jacket, Jyn stared at him as he stepped carefully into the mess. In her ears was shouting, jumbled words she understood but couldn't process, fingers trembling.

Luke Skywalker.

Deathstar.

Cassian was here.

He looked thin, still too pale, spine carefully straight as he looked towards her and Bodhi unerringly. As if he'd known where to find them. As if he'd expected they'd be here, impatiently waiting for him. Her lungs seized, eyes unblinking as they watched each other, relief and need a tangle in her chest.

Jyn had seen Cassian angry and determined. She'd faced him down when he wore both lies and truth on his face, had caught that rare curve of an almost smile when she surprised him. But the look behind his eyes as a cheering crowd separated them, it was different. It reminded her of before Scarif.

Welcome home. I’m here.

It looked like a promise.

General Draven stood behind him, and impatiently motioned for them to continue down the hallway. Cassian’s mouth tightened at the corners, eyes dark and narrow as his jaw clenched for a single breath, but then he turned away. Jyn watched him move, nails digging into the table in front of her, breathing ragged.

Cassian. Alive and walking, and nothing about him spoke of rejection. Just that same, steady strength mingled with the need that lived beneath her fingertips. Whatever this was she wasn't alone, hadn't been alone since Yavin V and the strength of his fingers against hers.

He kept coming back.

Bodhi touched her hand, and her gaze darted to him. His eyes were bright, fingers trembling faintly against her own. “We did it.”

For a moment, Jyn didn't understand his words.  When she realized what he meant, she let it roll over her, the impact shockwaves of landing after a high fall. Her bones ached with it.

They'd won. They'd won. The Death Star was gone. Her father’s legacy was now tangled up with Luke Skywalker’s and the spacejunk the Death Star left behind. It's terrible legacy would be nothing but stardust one day, and it wouldn't be her.

Cassian was here.

Stepping forward, Jyn hugged Bodhi. He went stiff and uncertain, fingers jerky against her back. Then his grip tightened, body leaning towards her instead of away. They felt like jagged pieces of different puzzles, and Jyn didn't care.

“Papa would be proud of you,” she whispered into his shoulder.

Bodhi trembled, and something like liberation left her shaky. The burden of her childhood, her father's desperation were over. Whatever the future held for her, it would be one of her making, and she'd never tasted freedom so sweet.

The last person Jyn expected to meet roaming the halls was General Rieekan. She'd seen him of course, Echo Base was still too small for people to go unnoticed, but she'd never run across him alone. She remembered with a jolt that he was from Alderaan, and her throat tightened. She cursed the wild, nervous energy that had made it impossible to sleep, this unfamiliar need clawing at her guts.

She wasn’t certain what she'd hoped to find, although a tiny, vibrant thought ran along lines she couldn't allow herself to consider. Cassian would probably be busy for hours yet, and as much as she wished he'd find her, she wasn't certain he could. So she'd walked, until her ear and nose were numb, until she could almost breath past her jittery thoughts.

Now, she'd run into the General in charge of Echo Base. He stood with his head bowed, greying hair catching brightly on the artificial light, something about the quiet of his pose speaking of grief. His head lifted, before she could turn around, and sharp blue eyes studied her intently.

If the talk in the mess could be believed, this man had fought in the Clone Wars with distinction, before working to form the Alliance, his promotion to General new enough to shine.  Jyn was surprised, by how kind his face appeared. Saw had never worn his battles so lightly on his face, and neither had her father. But their was a bitter grief in his eyes, and as he watched her, Jyn wondered if he wore his scars on the inside, instead.

“Jyn Erso,” Rieekan said.

Swallowing, Jyn nodded. “Sir.”

A hint of amusement, as he turned in the direction she'd been headed, before she'd come across him. “Walk with me.”

Startled, Jyn did as she'd been bid, attempting to match his ground eating stride. He was silent for a long moments, before ushering her into a small room she had never entered. The door shut behind her, and the silence was noticeable, even for Hoth.

“My apologies, that I have not had time to speak with you before now,” Rieekan said as he sat on the edge of the desk, offering her a seat with a tilt of his chin. Jyn shook her head, and kept on her feet.

“Do you usually speak to stowaways?”

“I think we can both acknowledge that you are a special case,” he said simply. “But you will hardly be the first, after this victory you have won us.”

Her fingers curled, but she did her best to keep her face neutral. “I wasn't the only one.”

The General nodded, eyes steady. “Yes.”

Her next breath burned in her lungs, but she relished the pain, needed it to ground her. “I'd like to stay.”

“I'd hoped you would,” he replied. “You and your men made it possible to strike a powerful blow against the Empire, one we desperately needed. The loss of Alderaan could have been the end of us.”

Jyn lowered her eyes, stomach tight and knotted. Her men. She'd accepted the guilt of it, the self flagellation that her dreams brought, and it left her nearly sick to take some sort of credit for it. But perhaps one day it would sit less harshly in her gut, until she could accept the quiet thanks given. It helped, that Skywalker had capitalized on what they'd given him, and perhaps left her ghosts less restless.

Maybe one day, she'd have the chance to thank him.

Still, she'd known destroying the Death Star would be a beginning, not an end. She'd seen it in Cassian’s face. A fight that had been brewing for years had just begun.

“The Empire will strike back and it will strike back hard. We can expect a great deal of fighting in the future. Echo Base is as of now, a secret. But all secrets are eventually uncovered, and the Empire now knows to look,” Rieekan said into the silence, voice weary for the first time.

Jyn had seen some suggestions of it already. Rushing intelligence officers, cutting through celebrations with grim mouths. The Outer Rims were going to become far more dangerous than they were even now. Resistant forces like Saw’s would either be crushed or would flock to the newly empowered Alliance. With one blow, the Rebellion had become real and the Emperor would respond in kind.

“Why tell me this?” She asked finally.

“I never knew Saw Guerrero personally, Sergeant Erso, but I knew his reputation. What he was capable of pulling out of people,” Rieekan watched her, eyes steady. “Others may doubt that, but I do not. I'm sorry to say that your actions have not warranted you as many friends as they should, but it has garnered respect.”

The use of Sergeant rattled her, although Jyn did her best to hide it. As if the rank and position had merely been waiting on her to step forward, and take it. Swallowing, she pushed that aside and considered the rest of his statement.

Jyn thought of General Draven.

Cassian’s superior was not the enemy, but she doubted they were on the same side. Not after Eadu. She would not find a friend with that General, and Jyn did not want one.

“We have three years worth of work here that I need done in two, and I find you digging tunnels a waste of talent,” Rieekan continued. “We are lacking in resources, Erso, and securing them must be done in utmost secret.”

For a moment, she thought of refusing. Of asking to be sent into the fight, to walk away from what was being built in secret. Chewing on her cheek, she forced herself to consider the veiled offer. She'd spent her life, running from place to place, hiding. She'd never been given the chance to decide if building was something that she wanted to do.

She thought of Cassian, his carefully straight posture and dark eyes. Bodhi, with his cautious bravery and insistence that not everyone wished to serve the Empire. Of her father and Saw, two cogs of something she was still trying to understand.

“I don't sit still well,” Jyn said, letting all the other bits of pieces of her concern wash through her tone. “I'm not sure I know how.”

A hint of a smile on the General's face. “We’re at war, Sergeant. I think you'll be surprised at how little time you'll have.”

#otp: welcome home #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfiction #au:fix-it