#i've had these thoughts stewing in my head for days and it all came out tonight

[difeisheng]

duel meta

i think a good aspect of the conflict present in the donghai fight is the fact that li xiangyi and di feisheng are each seeing the other as representing incompatible things, and this isn't something that began with the duel but it was part of what doomed them by the end of it.

it has to do with how both of them view their places in the jianghu, in general. li xiangyi by this point has become the symbol of sigumen. he embodies everything it stands for, and by extension of sigumen's prestige, he embodies what those in the jianghu striving for righteousness should look like. he's the legend of both this generation and the next, and when he snaps at shan gudao, li xiangyi literally considers himself the beating heart of sigumen. without him, it can't exist. he has become one with every person he represents while still apart from them, embedded in this fame across the jianghu and all its eyes on him. it's a burden, but while he's placed on the pedestal, li xiangyi still attempts to do good by all who put him on it. so here he stands, trying to shoulder it all.

di feisheng, on the other hand, has always seen his position on an individual level. he's associated with jinyuanmeng and he built it, yes, but that power is not something he's thrown himself into as its leader. he wouldn't say that jinyuanmeng wouldn't exist if he was gone; once di feisheng is reinstated as mengzhu in the present day, the first thing he does is to hand it over to jiao liqiao. his actions throughout the story after that are largely separate from those of jinyuanmeng, and he makes little effort to involve his subordinates except for a few specific people. to di feisheng, his achievements and strength ultimately rest on himself as a swordsman, and his skill compared to other distinguished people at the top of the jianghu. we see that on the night he frees jiao liqiao. he's not here to take over forces or resources, he's just here for one man and the rank he holds.

(i would argue that the power di feisheng did accumulate through jinyuanmeng is for two reasons. one, so that he had enough people behind him to apparently rival li xiangyi, and two, to keep him safe from the di mansion. but that's a different topic.)

so when the war between sigumen and jinyuanmeng breaks out, its final act on the donghai ship is a standoff between two people: one who views himself as representing a collective, and another who considers himself in that moment a swordsman on his own. and this greatly influences how both of them treat that fight.

to li xiangyi, this is a duel contextualized by leadership. because he will take the responsibility for sigumen and his side of the fight, he's focusing all that grief over shan gudao, all that anger and blame on di feisheng alone, as the opposing head of the forces he's been clashing with. since the name of li xiangyi cannot be separated from sigumen (and by now i don't think li xiangyi could define himself as person from image even if he tried), now he attaches di feisheng to jinyuanmeng in his attempt to force him to take accountability. in li xiangyi's eyes, they're really not people in this duel. they're the faces of hundreds more warriors, and every move they make has the lives of those people hanging onto them.

to di feisheng, the fact that they stand alone on that ship means they are alone, cut loose from everyone and everything else in an isolated space. this is a fight in its purest form now. just two men and their blades, relying on their own physical/spiritual strength and nothing else. it's what di feisheng has been waiting for, this chance to challenge li xiangyi where both of them stand on truly equal ground. there is no sigumen or jinyuanmeng dragging them down. they've cut through all the noise of the jianghu that he doesn't care for, and they're just di feisheng and li xiangyi, two highly skilled people who get to see who's stronger in an environment no one else can influence.

(it's worth noting, i think, that di feisheng chose the location of the duel by situating himself and therefore li xiangyi who would find him out at sea, even though the majority of their forces were fighting on land. his men on the ship complained about how horrid a decision it was to be at sea in that weather (it's the first dialogue of the show), but this ensured that any outside/not predetermined interference during their head-to-head would be much more difficult.)

these views or motivations are so terribly at odds with each other. li xiangyi is fighting out of desperate rage and the need for retribution, weighed down more than ever by all the people who look up to him and depend on him to seek justice. di feisheng is fighting for fairly-won status and glory, and in his eyes, for the first time they have been granted the freedom to go against one another where nothing else needs to matter.

it shows in the moves both of them choose to make. namely, that di feisheng fights with more restraint, while li xiangyi fights quite viciously. i'm going to focus a bit more on di feisheng's role here, because i think this contrast on his part is interesting and works to subvert his initial reputation/image, something significant to his character throughout the show (or at least more than it is for li xiangyi).

i would argue that di feisheng is on the defensive for the majority of this fight, as his side has been this entire war. in the duel choreography he's blocking, dodging, or backing up a significant amount more than li xiangyi, who keeps pressing, launching new offenses wherever possible to search for an answer and revenge. there's a clear give and take between them as the fight progresses. and thanks to how this dynamic plays out, and with the background of these characters' motivations, there are three key pauses in the duel that stand out to me. they're all points where di feisheng could have moved on or killed li xiangyi, even as he was the one being attacked, but chose not to.

the first is when li xiangyi is pressed up against the ship wall, di feisheng's sword against li xiangyi's cheek, enough to cut but not enough to lethally wound. they're locked in this position for a good few seconds before either of them react. di feisheng could press forward and cleave his skull, since li xiangyi can't parry him. i couldn't get a good screenshot, but shaoshi is buried in di feisheng's shoulder here. for that di feisheng could also back up and away, given his injury. but he does neither. instead he freezes in place, doing nothing until li xiangyi draws his blade out of di feisheng, and makes the next move.

the second is when there's a lull in the action on the roof of the ship cabin. we get di feisheng's line “一个剑客不该有弱点” ("a swordsman shouldn't have weaknesses") and li xiangyi pausing as the bicha poison begins to take effect. this is another very long break where di feisheng could've taken advantage of li xiangyi being distracted, but he stands still. we learn later that he didn't even know li xiangyi had been poisoned then, so this isn't him dramatically pausing to revel in li xiangyi's pain. his opponent wasn't immersed in the fight, so di feisheng waited until he was. he only moves forward to meet him when li xiangyi chooses to.

these breaks turn the duel into a dance, almost, where di feisheng is letting li xiangyi lead and only moving with him (when they're both in the physical state to). he's fighting with too much respect and leniency to be out for blood the way li xiangyi is, with everyone else on that ship already dead. they're fighting the duel through vastly different lenses and neither of them have realized it yet.

that point of realization is this last pause, di feisheng's blade stabbed into li xiangyi while he stands over him in the rain. the fact that di feisheng isn't actively trying to kill is apparent in two different details here. the first is that di feisheng's blade missed li xiangyi's heart, even though his accuracy as a swordsman is incredible. the second is that, once again, he waits until li xiangyi can move again before attempting to do anything further— except this time he yells that he's won.

this is the moment it genuinely struck for me that their perspectives on this duel are so different. di feisheng dealt li xiangyi a wound that is serious in the moment, but for someone of li xiangyi's strength, he'll be fine in the end. it only takes him out in the short term, and within that time, what di feisheng is waiting for after calling his victory is for li xiangyi to concede the duel. to say it's over, and give over his name as the top swordsman. that's what di feisheng was after.

to him, when it came to li xiangyi, defeating the man and killing him were two different things.

but this isn't where it all stops, because li xiangyi didn't know this (how could he?) and he's fighting for more than ensuring his name remains above anyone else's. di feisheng is fighting cold, but li xiangyi still has so much anger, so much left to do. so much at stake and on his shoulders and 'defeat' and 'giving up' are luxuries he doesn't have.

when the blade in him and the poison taking greater hold pushes li xiangyi into needing a last stand, he refuses to hold anything back. he's an opportunist now, and di feisheng has given him an opening. so out comes wenjing in a surprise attack, there goes di feisheng impaled against the mast, and it all goes to hell. di feisheng can't fight honourably because li xiangyi is coming for his life, and for the first time after a pause like this, he's the one who attacks first.

their last skirmish is because now there's nowhere else for either of them to go. all other motivations have been shattered. either one of them must break, or they must fall together. and the latter is exactly what they do.

perhaps, in a thousand other worlds, the duel went differently. but in this one, li xiangyi fought because he thought they both represented everyone, and di feisheng fought because he believed they represented nothing more than themselves, and neither man could understand that the other didn't share their perspective. signalled though it was throughout the fight, and evenly matched though they were, they were fighting two separate battles on that ship. it wasn't anything they could help, only the result of contrasting lives in the jianghu and what it had shaped them both into. and so there was nothing that could come of that duel except for both of them to lose.

[barleyo]

If ur in twd fandom I would loveee a Daryl dixon age gap fic!! Just him being disgusting over taking her first time? Just a major power imbalance between them. Dont do this if ur uncomfy ofc!! Stay safe bookie <33

Men Who Are Older.

Daryl Dixon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: cried happy tears at this request, i LOVE daryl, he's so yummy. dirty old men foreverrrrr!!! i haven't seen all of twd and it's been a while since i've watched it, so this could be super ooc for all i know!! sorry it's short, i wanted to get all my ideas down quickly :3

Tags: LARGE age gap (18-19 and late 40-ish), power imbalance, coercion, p in v, loss of virginity, allusion to anal, creepy old man behavior (ugh i luv it)

Wordcount: 1.2k

You found yourself often visiting Daryl in his tent later in the night when you couldn't sleep. He tried to act like it annoyed him, like your presence was a nuisance to him, but it wasn't. You weren't the most irritating person he had to deal with day-to-day. You were polite enough for your age, you didn't mess around and snoop through his shit. You didn't judge him.

Most importantly, though, you were attractive. There wasn't much hot, young tail to chase around the camp. He liked to think you were his reward for living through hell every day. Nothing like eye candy at the end of the night to ease a hardened man's stress.

It was like most nights when you entered his tent, not bothering to announce yourself. Daryl looked up from the pocket knife he had been mindlessly flicking to eye you down. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" 

"Yeah, right," you said, taking a casual seat on his bedroll. "What're you doing?"

He clicked his tongue at you on his bed, but sighed and ignored it. "Nothing. Too damn late to do anythin' important."

"Want to chit-chat, then?" You rested your hands on your knees, hoping he would soothe your boredom.

"Do I wanna 'chit-chat'?" Daryl flicked his knife closed and tucked it in his back pocket. "If you wanna chat, why don't you go do it with someone else? You don't have friends your age?" 

"I used to." He didn't say anything, just flattened his mouth at your rebuttal. "We're friends though, aren't we?"

Crossing his arms, he let out a hum. "Whatever you want, kid. Sure. We're real pals."

You spoke about whatever came to your mind for the next however-many minutes with him. Mostly just you babbling on, but it didn't bother him. You could run off at your mouth all you wanted, gave him all the excuse to stare you down and look a little too closely at places he knew he shouldn't.

Eventually, you got on the topic of things you missed about life before. Things you wished you got to experience, things you were slowly starting to forget about.

"I didn't even get to properly lose my virginity before this shit took over," you complained, now laying on Daryl's bed like it was your own. "It really bites, man." 

His eyes widened a bit, arms falling to his legs from their crossed position. 

"Wait, what'd y'say?" 

"Huh? Oh, I didn't get to have sex with anyone before the outbreak," you repeated, not caring to turn to face him while you spoke. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'll die before I get any." 

So many things rushed through Daryl's head at that moment. A virgin? You? It wasn't exactly surprising, you weren't old enough for it to be a shocking thing to hear, but the thought really intrigued him. Made him wonder.

It gave him an idea, and lord knows dirty, old men have even dirtier ideas stewing in their minds.

"That bother you?" 

You finally turned your head over to look at him, eyes looking conflicted.

"I guess, a little. There are bigger things to worry about, but I feel like I'm missing out," you said while trying your best to sound nonchalant. "It's not much of a priority, under the circumstances, you know."

Oh, how wrong you were. It very much was a priority, an urgent one at that. 

"Never know. Could happen, if y'really wanted. Don't rule it out completely," he advised, wiping his face with the back of his palm. "Maybe some younger man might find his way here. Could be an opportunity." 

"Nah, I couldn't go for that. I don't wanna be inexperienced and have to deal with an equally inexperienced guy too. That'd be like hell," you joked.

"Sounds like you want an older man, then."

He called on every guardian angel he had in that moment, praying for you to take the bait. Just one chance, damn it, he wasn't asking for much.

"Yeah, guess so." You made eye contact with him for a brief second, before flitting your eyes around in embarrassment. "Listen, it's getting late, I should go." You pushed yourself up, ready to head back to your family.

Daryl stood from his seat and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

"I don't mind," he said, dancing around the answer to the question you didn't yet ask. "I know my fair share."

"Those don't sound like sounds a virgin'd make," he teased. He loved how you sounded. Straight from a porno, just shameless cries and squeals. "You sure you ain't did this before?"

He watched the back of your head shake 'no' while his hand guided along the arch in your spine. Took you a while to learn to keep your head down and ass up, but damn it if you didn't put the knowledge to work quickly.

"Am I supposed to be dizzy?" you asked, voice muffled by the blankets under you.

Daryl chuckled softly, slamming your hips back on him. "Yeah, if the guy's doin' it right. Feel good?"

Your hands clenched the fabric you were laying on, digging into it roughly.

"I think? I—I dunno, 's just so much."

Being the man he was, Daryl took that as a challenge. He flipped you over on your back, cock still rocking into you. He sped up, letting his movements get sharper. 

"C'mon," he muttered gruffly, trying to urge you to place your legs on his shoulders, "you gonna be this much of a problem for the next guy?"

You gave your weak legs a kick, wrapping them around his neck so the shaking wouldn't roll them off his shoulders. 

"No, no," you whined, groping your tits to keep your hands busy, "don't want another guy. He won't be as good as you, Dar." 

How the hell could a few little words get him ramped up even more? He knew you probably didn't mean it, horny girls said whatever their pussies wanted them to say, but the way he fucked you made you believe your own words.

"Yeah? I ruined ya for other guys already?" 

The stark difference between his now softer tone and rougher thrusts confused your brain in the best ways possible. You couldn't focus on just one aspect of him: Daryl was everywhere. In your brain, in your heart, in the very blood flowing through your veins— and, of course, inside of you. 

It was too much, all of it. 

Your walls clamped tightly over him, sucking him in like a vacuum. The clenching of your walls over his dick sent him over the edge, barely leaving him enough time to pull out. He bit the back of his hand, stifling a moan while he jerked himself the rest of the way off, coating your tired pussy with his cum. 

"You didn't cum inside, did you?" You sat up quickly, scooting back a bit. 

Daryl let out a huff. "I'm not an amateur, I know how to pull out."

"Just checking," you mumbled, lying back down on his bedroll, head nuzzling into the pillow.

You felt his dick push up against your ass, prodding between your cheeks.

"I could show you a way that'll make sure no idiot douchebags get ya knocked up," he offered, head desperately tapping against your asshole, "if you want."

A soft sigh came from your chest as you pushed your ass back on him.

"You're an eager teacher, y'know."

[azrielwingspan]

'SOMEONE' (AZRIEL X READER)- PART 2

Summary: You are convinced that Azriel was the one to send the note. Anxious about facing him, you lose yourself in your head but strangely, things are turning out...weird.

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Thankyou so much for the response on the first part you guys! It was supposed to be a one shot but due to popular demand, I wrote down a second. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about this because peer pressure haha. Really hope this meets expectations. Did my best to make it fun and playful.

Read Part-1 here.

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

'It's hard not to pry when you're involved.' The words kept flitting through your mind , jumbling your thoughts and stirring up a butterfly party in your stomach.

You knew it was from Azriel. Who else could it be ? Not believing it at first, you tried to think of all other possibilities and came up with zero. No else could possibly know about it.

Except him.

After stewing upon the unexpected turn of events for a good couple of hours, you did something anyone else in your position would've done.

You tried to hide.

From a spymaster.

You were really setting standards in the department of intelligence.

It had all started when you were having lunch with Cass and Mor at the House of Wind. "How was your new book?" Mor asked stuffing herself with the mashed potato in front of her. "It was alright. It just felt a little flat." you stabbed at the piece of chicken on your plate.

"Why the gloomy face? Everything okay?" Cass looked at your face intently. You sat up a little straighter, forcing a small smile onto your face. "I'm great."

"Are you on something?" Your head shot towards Mor, a flabbergasted look on your face.

"What made you say that?"

"You've been acting weird since yesterday and just this morning you stared off into space with a stupid smile on your face. Now, you're gloomy. I've seen this before--"

"Oh for Mother's sake, I'm not on anything Mor." A choked laugh burst out of you at the incredulity of it.

"Is it because of the stable boy thing yesterday? Shit Y/N, we didn't know you still --"

You narrowed your eyes at Cass , daring him to finish that statement. He immediately backed off, putting up his hands in the air.

"Just a concerned friend." He said with a teasing smile.

"You guys are the worst." Soft laughter was shared between the three of you before disaster struck.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell making your head whip towards it. Eyes widening a fraction, your brain was thrown into a whirlpool of thoughts , each one fighting for dominance over the other. You knew with absolute certainty that it was him. There was no one else in the house. You also knew the sound of his footsteps but that was a fact to be pondered upon on a different day.

Wait, he was a spymaster. Why was he making a sound in the first place?

He wants you to know. Doesn't want to catch you off guard. The still functioning part of your brain helps you out.

"Are you having a seizure?" Mor's voice registered in your head.

"No , but I might." you muttered under your breath, your body reacting before your mind could give it a command. Almost stumbling from your chair all the while trying to look as unbothered as possible, you excused yourself from the table mumbling a reason to your companions.

Exit points available. The stairwell. Your mind supplied. YOU CAN'T PASS BY HIM. DO BETTER.

The plant. - THE PLANT ?! What were you supposed to do ? Photosynthesize yourself ?!

Under the table.- Ah yes. Have a front row view to his crotch. Way to go.

Balcony.- We don't have WINGS! You screamed at yourself.

The door to your right.- Finally. A good option.

Your face must have exhibited a plethora of emotions during the internalized battle with yourself because Mor and Cass were staring at you like you had two heads.

"Y/N. Please sit down. Something is seriously wrong." Cass said rising from his chair.

"No. No. I just forgot to do something very very important. I'm going to be screwed. I just need to---"

"Have lunch. I'll help you out with whatever it is." The voice like night whispered over your skin setting off goosebumps in its wake. His scent enveloped you, taunting and teasing your senses. It almost seemed to whisper- Look at me.

So you did.

You had expected a smirk or a smile or even a twinkle in his eye. Nothing. No hint or trace of what had happened. No clue to suggest that he knew or that he was the one to send the note.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn't him but someone else playing a joke on you?

"No it's alright. I..." You didn't get to finish the sentence as he pulled your chair back and motioned for you to sit down.

Sighing out loud you returned to your place at the table trying not to look at Azriel as he took the seat across. "What did you forget?" Cass was starting to sound suspicious. Racking your brain for a quick and believable answer, you blurted out "I have to respond to a letter. A very important one."

The double meaning of your reply hit you the moment it left your mouth. Your body betrayed you and turned your gaze towards Azriel.

Nothing. Blank as a slate.

Starting to grow frustrated, you stabbed into your chicken a little too enthusiastically.

"It's already dead." Azriel said dryly, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Mor let out a snort and thankfully started to recall a conversation she had with a friend of hers. You could feel the tension leave your body as the conversation and attention was steered away from you.

Get your shit together.

Fortunately, all of you were done eating not long after and everyone went back to their duties. Azriel hadn't said or done anything for the rest of the afternoon and you were seriously starting to doubt if you were wrong.

You made your way back to your room trying to make sense of your emotions along the way. There was a sense of relief that Azriel didn't know and yet it was tinged with the undertones of disappointment that he didn't know after all.

Did you want him to know or did you not?

You didn't know. UGH. Idiot.

Stepping into your room, you almost missed the note that caught under your foot.

Fuck. Another one.

Heart thudding painfully, you picked it up with trembling hands. It read:

Anyone is capable of falling in love with your heart. Me? I want to be the someone you give it to. -'Someone'

A/N: I did not intend to end it this way at all but here we areeee. Hope you guys enjoyed it !

TAGLIST : @crazylokonugget , @hayrunnwr , @fxckmiup , @wildlyobserving , @harrystylesfan2686 , @63angel , @charlotteintumbleland , @willowpains , @nyx-the-alien , @acourtofbatboydreams , @marina468 , @anuttellaa , @kalulakunundrum , @amygdtjhddzvb , @lulu22156

[mind-player]

Little Escape

Basically, Tav getting addicted to organizing loot as a means of a short little escape from the horrors they've seen. Astarion thought that it would be fine, however, if it didn't get to the point where they started to neglect their own needs.

He decides that perhaps a break is in order.

Words: 957

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Astarion kept stealing annoyed glances above his book at you from where he stood in front of his tent. Everyone gathered around Gale with bowls and bread, all banter and grateful sounds for long-awaited food. 

Conversely, you kept fussing around with the loot everyone snatched from earlier that day. You were sorting through it with piles of books, letters, potions, and poisons surrounding your little area. Your tongue stuck out in concentration as you created a new pile of unenchanted armor and useless trinkets that could be sold to the next trader they came across on another adventure. 

"Tav! Come and get your food!" Karlach thankfully called, probably pitying how you were usually always the last soul to eat (only thanks to Astarion cutting in and saving you a bowl) because you'd never even noticed the smell of food in the air. 

Suppose loot wasn't occupying your mind. In that case, it was filling canteens and waterskins, sharpening and polishing everyone's weapons, doing laundry, brewing potions, or burying your nose in a text you found that day- anything that made you forget everything around you. 

Astarion honestly wondered if you even had a stomach sometimes. Or a need for sleep. 

You blinked and glanced up from your fort of loot, shaking your head, and Astarion almost rolled his eyes to the back of his skull. 

"I've gotta get through this first."

"They're doing it yet again. I wonder if it's just my cooking," Gale sadly pondered aloud as he poured a bowl for you anyway. 

"It's not that; Tav just gets lost in things sometimes," Shadowheart told him, not really as a reassurance, but more just as a matter of fact. 

"I will say that they keep a very organized camp because of it," Lae'zel stated, grabbing your bowl and walking over to place it next to you. 

You mumbled a quick thanks as you organized the books neatly into a chest, moving on to put some helpful scrolls into a pouch, potions the same. And, of course, as Astarion predicted, you ignored it for about ten minutes before he decided that you might like a lukewarm meal over a cold one that night. 

Astarion closed his book and made his way over, leaning against an enormous chest. You didn't even notice his presence or stare, you busy bee. 

"Would you like some help?" he offered, which was rare. 

At first, he thought you didn't hear him, as you were too lost in picking through some enchanted jewelry. But you eventually glanced up at him, tilting your head a little at the vision of him. 

"No, thank you." 

Then Astarion's eyebrow twitched as Wyll called over his shoulder, "I've tried that one before!"

The vampire ignored him and tried once again because, of course, he was just as stubborn as you were, dammit. 

"Are you sure, Tav? This is a pretty infrequent opportunity to finally put me to work around here. Would you like to eat? Bathe? Rest? You know, basic things that everyone needs but you somehow neglect?" 

You blinked and grabbed a circlet, raising it to inspect, unanswering. Were you really ignoring Astarion now? 

Astarion huffed and muttered under his breath, "Fine. Enjoy your frigid stew. That is if you even eat it."

"Wait," you called, standing from your spot and swaying a little. 

Astarion glared at you, but his expression slowly slipped away the closer you came toward him. Your eyes finally focused as you fixed the golden circlet atop his head. Your fingers brushed some of his white curls to the side as you took in his entire face. 

His cursed undead heart would've been beating out of his chest at the sudden sight of you and your eyes on him, only him. It was like your attention was always there, with the corners of your lips rising into an appreciative smile. 

"Beautiful," you told him, completely engrossing his attention in you once again. The dark circles under your eyes, the dirt and blood spatter on your skin, and your frazzled hair from a hard day fought. Every part is endearing, especially compared to how much you did for everyone else and maybe for yourself despite your fatigue. 

This adventure only offered some bouts of control, but most days, it just didn't. If there was something to make you forget those chaotic moments, painful moments, in getting lost in these things, then Astarion reasoned it wasn't so bad- if even for a moment.

But he'll be damned if he was going to let you deprive yourself of your needs. 

"You're quite sly, you know that?" Astarion asked, grinning back. 

"Why, I have no clue what you're talking about," you replied with that cheeky smile that Astarion secretly adored. You gestured to the enchantments and said, "You can help me put these somewhere for everyone to look through tomorrow." 

"And what exactly do I get in return?" he asked. "Aside from these cherished adornments."

You weren't surprised by those words. Astarion was sure you already knew he wasn't going to give. 

"I'm not quite sure. What would you like then?" 

You wanted to hear him say it, and he would have indulged you if it meant you finally understood how important it is to take care of yourself.

"There's many things I'd like. For starters, you could finally eat that sorry bowl of stew. Otherwise, the entire camp has to suffer Gale's river of tears." 

"I heard that!" the wizard crankily hollered all the way over from his tent. You glanced over at the table and noticed everyone had finished eating by then and returned to their bedrolls. 

"That was the point!" Astarion announced before turning to you. "Think you can manage that, darling?" 

[fanfictionalraven]

Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly. 

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. “Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing. 

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other.  There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks. 

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all.  “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table. 

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead. 

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something  I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

**

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment. 

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

[ivycjl]

Epiphany - Part Four

Hello!! Fourth and final part! I've had so much fun writing this; thank you all for reading! My requests are open! I would love to get them if you're all interested. I'll shut up now:

The next few days are hell. Benny doesn't try to talk to you, and you don't try to talk to him. Every time you accidentally run into each other at home makes you cringe.

You can tell you've made him upset, but what are you supposed to do? Finally, Friday comes.

He speaks to you for the first time since Sunday, avoiding your gaze and asking if you want to go to the meeting.

Your reply is a quiet ‘yeah’. The ride over is awkward as hell, and when you get to the bar, you both jump off the bike and walk away as quickly as possible.

Corky and Zipco notice and bring it up to Benny when he walks over. “What was that?” Corky laughs.

“What?” Benny glares. Corky and Zipco share a look before Zip says, “You and the Mrs. It was like watching 13 year olds-”

“None of your god dammed business, that's what,” Benny snaps before entering the bar alone.

That was a mistake. As soon as he walks in, he's greeted with the sight of you laughing and smiling like nothing is wrong. Fuck that shit, because why don't you look at him like that anymore? Like you still love him. Like you want him. Maybe you found someone new. Benny buys a beer and sits in the corner alone, stewing in his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Benny sits in the same spot, drinking, watching. He can't take it anymore. You don't smile at him, kiss him, touch him, laugh with him for weeks, and as soon as you get to this fuckin’ meeting you act like your regular old self. This is the first time he's seen you act remotely happy to be alive in God knows how long, and when it's time to go home you'll just go right back into your shell. Benny’s done. He takes a final sip of his beer and storms out of the bar, slamming the door on his way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny’s been noticing something goin’ on between you two. It started out pretty mild, but now you're full blown ignoring Benny. Won't even look at him. Didn't notice when his gaze finally tore away from the back of your head and he stormed out the bar. So Johnny goes over to you. You're sittin’ with Betty, laughing with a Coke in your hand.

“Hey!” You greet him with a smile.

“Hey…did you just see Benny leave?” At the mention of Benny, your face falls, but as quick as it changed the first time, you switch your expression to apathetic. “No,” you shrug.

Johnny’s confused. You've never been so short with him before. “Ain't he your ride?” At the mention of this, you turn to Betty.

“Betty, you came in your car, right?”

His wife nods uneasily.

“Do you mind taking me home?”

Betty and Johnny exchange a glance. “Uh, sure hon.”

You turn back to Johnny and shrug. I don't care.

Hm.

Later that night as Johnny’s laying in bed with his wife, he decides to bring up the incident from today.

“Ay, Betty, you notice anything about Benny and Y/N?”

She scoffs. “Jeez, ‘have I noticed anything’, yeah, apparently I notice a lot more than you do.”

Johnny shakes his head. “Like what?”

“Oh God, I don't know. I haven't seen ‘em sit next to each other, let alone talk. And God forbid Benny make eye contact with Y/N or else her whole night is ruined,” Betty rolls her eyes.

Johnny mulls over this for a moment. “Why’d’a think that is?”

Betty sighs. “She's probably sick of all his shit. I don't know. They might’a fought and she just decided she didn't want to deal with him anymore. Who knows. Or cares. Just make it end.”

Johnny nods. “Get the light, will ya?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benny, surprisingly, finds himself at home. After driving to another bar, getting shitfaced, and beating the hell out of some guy, he's just there, sitting on his living room couch.

For the first time in his life, aimlessly roaming the world on his bike didn't make him feel better. So he just sits on the couch and waits for you to come home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You silently open your front door and enter your house. It was about 12:30 before Betty decided to go home, which was the perfect time for you to return home and count on Benny to be out or in bed. It hurt to be so far away from your husband, but you would rather deal with this than constant fighting or his cruel dismissal. At least, this way, there was nothing to hurt you but yourself. You start to hang up your jacket when his voice stops you.

“Hey, baby.” Baby. Fuck you. You can't show me affection until you don't get any?

“Oh. Hi.”

You hear him suck in a breath. “How’d you get home? Betty?”

You hang up your jacket and nod. “Yeah.”

You brush past him to set your purse down on the counter, and when you turn around, he pulls your bodies together by your waist. You gasp. He hasn't been this close to you in 2 months. Benny moves one hand to your face, tilting it up to look at him.

You had almost forgotten how pretty he was, you realize as he smiles down at you. You sober up quick as soon as Benny tries to rest his forehead on your own. You sharply pull away to see his hurt face. Oh God. He must be plastered.

Benny starts shaking his head like a child. “No. No, no, no.” He takes heavy breaths. “What the fuck is going on with you? Why don't you want me anymore? Why?”

As soon as he says it, he wants to take it back. He can see your face contorting in pain, feel you breaking out of his hold and taking a step back. “Um,” your voice trembles. Benny instinctively steps closer to you, wanting to comfort, but you just walk backwards faster and faster until you hit the stairs. “Goodnight, Benny.”

“No.”

You swallow. “What?”

“No, I said no. We're not doin’ this again. You can't keep leavin’ me alone.”

You laugh. “Me, leave you alone?”

The alcohol was not letting you hold back. You feel a fight coming on, so you turn around to start walking up the stairs. But Benny grabs you again, pulling you back towards him by the wrist.

“And what is that supposed to mean? You've been avoiding me for 2 months.”

“Oh, that must really suck when you want to talk to me or spend time with me and I barely engage with you! I'm so sorry you have to beg me for attention!”

Your hand flies to your mouth. That was definitely something you were not supposed to say.

“Is that…is that why you've been doin’ all this? Giving me the silent treatment?”

You nervously nod your head, glaring at the floor. “Because you felt like I wasn't spending enough time with you?”

God, he makes you feel stupid. “No! Because you're treating me like some shitty roommate and not your wife that you're supposed to love. Because every day you spend so much time out of this house it makes me wonder if there's someone else you’d rather be married to instead!”

He pauses before responding in a low tone.

“I would never do that.”

“Do what?”

“Cheat.”

You take a deep breath. Good to know he's got some integrity left. “Hm.”

“I'm sorry.”

“That’s not even close to fixing this, Benny.”

He nods his head. “I know.”

You look back up at his eyes. “But I am.”

All you want to do is sink into his chest and burst into tears. Let him hold you. You only let the tears part happen.

“Why don't you want to be around me?” you sob. You sound so pathetic.

“I do. I do. I'm sorry,” Benny says as he pulls you into his chest. You don't try to fight him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, dropping his lips to your head. You both allow yourselves to take a deep breath. Calm.

“I do love you.”

“You mean it?” you sniff.

He nods as he presses a kiss to your head. “Yeah.”

“I'm sorry I didn't show it.”

You sigh. “I'm sorry for doing what I did. I'm just so tired of fighting all the time. I just thought, y’know, I would do anything to not fight with him again, and-I don't know. I'm stupid.”

He shook his head. “You're not stupid.”

This is exactly what you hate and love about Benny. He could be God awful and rude and difficult, but then in that exact moment you need him to be, he's perfect. Whether he knows it or not.

“You…didn't find nobody else either, did you?”

“What? Oh, no. God no.”

Benny breathes out, relieved. “I guess we're in tune with each other somehow,” you say.

He shakes his head. “I guess.”

There's a nice moment of silence before you say, “Why don't we go up to bed?”

“Together?”

You take his hand. “Together.”

You unfold yourself from his hold, leading him up the stairs. Once in the room, you slip into a pajama set and crawl into bed. Benny had already stripped off his shirt, and for a second he just stands there looking at you.

“You gonna come here?”

Benny says nothing; just gets under the covers and pulls you into him again. And for the first time in 2 months you think that maybe it's going to be okay.

Thank you for reading! Requests are open! Also sorry I missed some of your requests to tag 😭 Here are all the ones I've seen:

@imusicaddict

@wallacewillow0773638

@behindmygreyeyes

[wayfayrr]

do you think the self-aware boys could be aware of other games you play on the console? this is kind of a silly thought but i got age of calamity when it came out and didn't play much because i was really bad at it. i've been playing totk recently but some self-aware au posts reminded me that i have age of calamity so i popped it back in to try out again (i'm still not great at it). and i just imagined tears getting jealous haha sorry hon i swear i didn't mean anything by it

(not me who plays a ton of indie games on my switch - guys I'm so sorry I just like the silly sushi game)

So as for them being aware of other games, they start off as not knowing much, just knowing that they're there. but after a while they can see the hours played! think the switch timer that shows how much you've played or maybe steam library style, I'm not entirely sure yet

as for your other point - I think their jealousy really depends on what game you're playing, how long you're playing for kinda a mix on the two!

other zelda games could have little/no jealousy or they could actually end up causing a literal fight if those two links met. I actually really need to draw out a relationship chart! cause I've been planning a self aware links meet and I've been stewing over this for a good while <3

say for legend? yeah, he's not going to be jealous of himself - that would be a waste of energy Sky would be a little petty if your totk playtime is higher than his but he gets along well with tears - to the point he'd be willing to share you with him (the same goes for wild/ possibly wars) Twilight wants to work with others - not all of them mind you but time, wild and wind? given the chance he will go out of his way to work with them rather than not and he is the ONLY one who does this - this is not 100% reciprocated with all of those links. (and his allies depend on what console you're on) the others are opportunistic with allies but they don't go out of their way like he does.

other series games? yeah no get them OUT of here they aren't sharing you with them.

in your case though anon?

I think tears would be more than fine with you playing aoc!! he's a little bitter over the fact (in his head) you might prefer the version of him that didn't die but no don't worry he's not that offended Calamity on the other hand? he's going to be a smug little shit. He had more than a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to the others - aoc kinda flopped compared to other games (4mil copies to totks 20mil (totk sold half of aocs total sales in japan in THREE DAYS)) if you have more hours with him than with wild/tears then he will become more of an ass and get whiny about having your attention on him when he gets out. I also like to hc him as having really bad anxiety which leads to a really clingy yan

[td-scenarios]

Request: Confessional about s/o for Cody, Scott, Justin, Heather, and Lindsey? Have a great day!

(I hope u dont mind if it's pre-relationship! u didn't clarify, but i thought them talking abt their crush on reader would be cute :] )

__________________________________________

Scott

He looks slightly disturbed being here. A shifty look in his eye, almost as if he was nervous to look directly at the camera. Every time Scott had been in to make a confessional up until this point was to explain whatever he had been planning for the competition, so this was unsettling for him to say the least.

"So, Y/N, am I right?" He started before the camera fizzed out and came back to him in a different position. "Nevermind this is stupid."

It would take a while until Scott would brave the confessional again. This time, he was gripping his head like a madman. Slowly, his head tilted up until he was holding onto his face with his eyes framed by his fingers.

"I can't take it anymore. They're perfect! My schemes can't touch 'em!" His hands had left his face and he was gesturing wildly. "I don't think I even WANT my schemes to affect them. Woah. I never thought I'd say that."

Scott blinked dumbly at the camera before a scowl took over his expression.

"Y/N I'm comin' for ya."

-

Lindsay

"Oh my gosh!" Lindsay twirled a strand of her hair around her finger as she stared off into the distance past the camera. "Do you guys think that Y/N likes me? 'Cause I toooootally like them. Like, I like-like them." A dreamy smile plastered on her face as she kept talking. "I hope they like me back. Like who wouldn't?"

She thought about what she said for a second, her expression a bit grave as it finally focused on the camera.

"People like me, right? Yeah, they do. That means Y/N has to like me." A pause. "Ooooooh, but what if they don't?" Lindsay tapped her chin in thought at the idea. "Whatever! They're really cute and like smart and amazing!" The blonde finally stopped talking and just sat there with her head resting on her hands as she let out a wistful sigh. This pause continued for about a minute before she finally perked up and tilted her head at the camera.

"Wait, is this still going?"

-

Justin

The model tapped his finger on the vanity as he was thinking about what he should say. He finally looked up and fixed his hair in the mirror as he started talking.

"I never thought I'd meet anyone as gorgeous as me. And I haven't. But Y/N comes pretty close and that's dangerous. They're stunning and their wit is unmatched." His lips puckered in defeat since his hair wasn't falling the way he wanted to. Ultimately, he gave up on it as he kept talking.

"Maybe I should go for an alliance with them. The thought of getting Y/N voted off just...doesn't sit right with me. But I also can't have this sort of competition."

Justin sat there with a frown, not really knowing what his plans would become at this stage. He sighed before he shot a smirk back up at the camera.

"I need to stop with all this thinking, it's making me ugly."

-

Heather

"They're insufferable!" Heather growled, folding her arms across her body while glaring off to the side. "All they do is be stupidly kind and have a dumb face and...and...and well they piss me off!"

"I need Y/N out of this game. Pronto! If I am to keep my game face on then Y/N has to go. They're totally messing everything up!"

Heather huffed and continued stewing in her anger. Eventually, she kept sputtering on some anger fueled words before letting out a frustrated groan.

"I can't believe this is happening..." She grumbled, scrunching in on herself more.

Before the camera fizzed out, a slight smile was seen on Heather's face as she let out a dreamy sigh.

-

Cody

"Wow. Y/N..." Cody sat there, staring at the camera with the most overjoyed look on his face. "They're probably the first person I've ever found attractive that is actually giving me the time of day! This is great!!"

Cody silently cheered, raising his arms in the air with a big smile on his face. Once his tiny little self-contained celebration was over he finally began speaking once more.

"I really really hope they like me back. Wouldn't that be awesome?" He got a bit closer to the camera, a smile on his face.

"I mean, they don't push me away, they're not mean to me, and they actually laugh at my jokes! I think that the Codemeister has finally done it." His ecstatic boy-ish demeanor quickly replaced with a more smug one.

"Or, at least, I hope so."

[gauloiseblue]

Gaz x cook!reader. We all can tell army food is shit but dam can you make a bowl of mush taste like heaven. And it seems your skills have gotten through the belly and to the heart of the 141's pretty boi leaving him head over heels for your adorable form. Dressed in a head scarf, to keep hair out of your face, and an adorable apron brought from home all he wants is that pretty smile directed at him.

A/N: I noticed that cook!reader has become a trend in this fandom nowadays? Not that I'm complaining. Also, *crack my knuckles* it's time to write a jealous boy

The first time he tasted the food at the new base, he thought his tastebud was playing trick on him. Because there's no was a mere rice could taste this good.

But his confusion only lasted for a second, because he saw his friends made the same expression.

"Bloody hell," His captain grunted, "I don't mind gettin' tough missions if I get to eat this food everyday."

"Cheers to that." He chuckled as he scooped a spoonful of rice.

At that time, he didn't know who were the cooks yet, but he's determined to find out.

The kitchen in the military base isn't as strict as restaurant's one, so people can come in and out of the room. He uses that opportunity to pay a 'visit' to where you're stationed.

Judging by your uniform, you're not the head of the chef. But the one who runs around, checking each of the stations is you. He spots a few soldiers who stand at a distance (he soon found out that it's for hygienic reason, to minimize the contamination in the kitchen) while trying to talk with you. Unlike a cold-faced chef who hates distractions, you politely respond to them, while focusing on your job at the same time.

That sparks something in him, as he finds himself wanting to get to know you. But he knows better than disturbing you in your working hour.

Those soldiers might be lucky to get your attention for now, but he's confident that he'll get thrice as much sooner or later.

The kitchen's busy at the time when the soldiers are on the break, but when it's time for training, you and the other chefs would get the time to rest. So he, as a member of the special force, gets the privilege to arrange his schedule.

He starts his training earlier, so by the time he finishes, he'll get the time to visit the kitchen. The chefs like to hang out at the break room, but when he walks in, he finds that you're not there, so he goes to the second location.

In the back of the kitchen, there's a pantry where the food ingredients are stored. He had a feeling that you'd be there, so he went there.

And he's right.

You had just checked the tomatoes when he knocked on the door. The sound makes you jump, as you look at the open door with wide eyes.

"Sorry," He raises his hand to calm you down, "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh." You clear your throat, "It's fine. I just… didn't notice you there. Do you need anything?"

"No." He smiles, "I came to say that I loved today's lunch. It's the most delicious food that I've had all week."

You blush upon hearing his words, "You flatter me, thank you."

"So what are you cooking for tonight?"

"I was thinking about making beef goulash, but I noticed that we still have chickpeas, so," You hum as you think, "It's either of the two."

"You're making Moroccan beef stew?" He raises his brow at you, and you nod.

"That's what I'm planning to. I haven't decided yet." You said, "What do you think?"

"You know which one I'd pick." He grinned as he picked the paprika, "You have enough cilantros?"

"Of course." You giggle as you take the veggie from him, "It's settled then."

Since that day, it becomes a habit of him to visit the kitchen and talk to you for an hour or two. You're shy at first, but once you're comfortable with him, you become a lovely chatterbox. You'd talk to him about foods, kitchen operations, and plans for dinner. Breakfast and lunch menus are already handled by the head chef, since they require not much of a job. But the dinner is entirely your responsibility, since it's the most varied meal of the day.

"What do you think is the most important asset for a cook to have?"

"I don't know. Hands?"

You shake your head, "Try again."

"Hmm, let me think." He closes his eyes, while pretending to ponder on, "Brain?"

"Wrong." You laughed.

"What is it then?"

"Tongue." You replied as you pointed at our mouth, "You won't have any idea how good your food is if you can't taste it."

"Is it really?" He chuckled, "Then what about knife skills? Or time management?"

"They're also important to have, but at the end of the day, taste is all that matters." You tilt your head, "Right?"

"Can't argue with that."

One day, he's caught by Price when he's about to leave after training.

"You've been leaving awfully soon these days," He stops at his track as he feels his captain's gaze on him, "Does it have something to do with the cook?"

He sheepishly grins, as he turns to his mentor, "Maybe."

Price studies his face, before letting a long sigh, "You're dismissed. But—" He interjected before he could leave, "You better tell her to make shepherd's pie."

He chuckles at the request, "Not tonight, Cap. Maybe tomorrow."

When he arrives at the kitchen that day, he sees you already in your apron. You're about to put your hair in the head scarf when you notice him standing at the door, with his mouth slightly open.

"Hi." You greeted him as you smoothed out your hair, "I need to do a little bit of prep, so I start earlier."

"Oh… I see."

"You can stay, though." You shot him a smile, as you fixed your headband, "I could use some company."

"Don't mind me then."

He takes the seat near your counter, watching you as you bring up the large pan.

"Need a hand?"

"No." You said with a grin, "I'm pretty strong, you know."

He snorts in amusement when you show him the muscles in your arm, which is clearly less defined than his, or even any private's.

"I know, but I'm sure you could use some help."

"I'm fine." You told him, "Besides, I don't have any spare aprons."

"What a shame." He feigned a frown, so bad that it made you laugh.

"Well," You spoke as you started to chop the onions, "Entertain me then. Tell me about your training."

There's not much to talk about, since his training was meant to be watched, not described. He doesn't tell much, but he mentioned the little chat that he had with the Captain.

"He wants cottage pie?" You raise your brows with curiosity, "I can make that, but we gotta wait until we get the right meat."

He mutters a small response, as he watches you cut the chickens into four pieces. You show such a focused expression, that he can't help but think if you're gonna make that face when you're making the shepherd's pie.

All of the sudden, the little remark that his Captain made isn't as nice as it sounded before.

"Why'd you stop?" You looked at him when you noticed that he's been quiet for a while.

"Nothing." He replied, "I just remembered that I don't like meat pie."

"That's too bad." You frowned, "Don't worry though, cottage pie isn't really a meat pie."

He stares at you, and thinks about his Captain's request. He wouldn't say that he's being generous, but in this case, he was.

"I know, but I like your stew better."

"You're so sweet." He saw your eyes crinkled as you chuckled, "We'll make that Moroccan stew again, yeah? Or do you want something else?"

He felt his chest swell when you asked him the question. You offered to cook for him, you'd cook what he wants.

Perhaps you had asked that question to someone else—someone who has visited your kitchen longer than him—but he didn't care.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't feel like sharing.

[promisesbutnevertokeep]

Isn’t that what he wanted? Part three

part one | part two | part three

tags: @zer0brainc3lls @the-flaminhos

Trigger warning: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, survivors guilt

(When the text is in italics it’s Thomas’s conscience)

———————————————————————

It was cold. The island, the water, the feeling in Thomas’ chest. The sun hadn’t shown its face in a while, the grey clouds overshadowing the supposed haven. Truth was, Thomas didn’t feel like this place was a haven. His haven wasn’t around anymore. He was long gone now, his haven was murdered by his own hands.

He’d killed him. Though the blood wasn’t literally there anymore, he still felt the need to scrub his hands to try get rid of the feeling. That awful guilty feeling that filled his chest and made him sick to his stomach.

Minho sat down next to him, “Thomas..” he was careful not to startle him. “He’s not in pain anymore, he’s finally at peace, he wouldn’t want you to be-“

The brunette snapped “I don’t get it Minho! Why did some people not be able to be immune and why did it have to be newt! He- he told me he’d follow me anywhere..” tears reached the brim of his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. They stung and made his vision go blurry but not once did they fall.

Minho stared in shocked, but gently rubbed his shoulder before getting up “I’m here if you need me, we all are Thomas.” He walked away, since Thomas clearly wasn’t in the right mental state for talking.

He felt he wasn’t worthy of comfort, and many did try to console him, give him the consolation that he did a noble thing, that he did the correct thing. But Thomas would push and push them away in refusal to be comforted. Even if others forgave him, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

the simplest reason why? he couldn’t bring himself to.

The brunette sat on the beach. It was empty because of the gloomy day, just him and his conscience, which was quite a danger when he was in such a fragile state. There’s many different ways to process a death of a loved one, but the slowest is not accepting it at all.

Thomas’s hand held the capsule necklace of his deceased Love, clinging to it for some sense of clarity. His eyes scanned the words on the paper once more;

‘Dear Thomas, this is the first letter I could remember writing. Obviously, I don't know if I wrote any before the Maze. But even if it's not my first, it's likely to be my last. I want you to know that I'm not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. It's more forgetting. It's losing myself to this virus, that's what scares me. So every night, I've been saying their names out loud. Alby. Winston. Chuck. And I just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and it - And it all comes flooding back. Just the little things like where the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls. And I remember the taste of Frypan's stew. I never thought I'd miss that stuff so much. And I remember you. From the first time you came up in the box, just a scared little Greenie who couldn't even remember his own name. But from that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have. If I could do it all over again, I would. And I wouldn't change a thing. My hope for you: when you're looking back years from now, you'll be able to say the same. The future is in your hands now, Tommy. I know you'll find a way to do what's right. You always have. Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. Thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate. Newt.’

Teardrops stained the worn, crinkled page, the ink smearing.

This was the first time Thomas had allowed himself to cry, and suddenly all that emotion and anger at himself hidden behind that numb wall came flooding out. He sobbed to himself, shouting at the sky to bring his Newt back, he needed him back.. he did all this for him and he was gone-

‘Why are you crying Thomas?” There was that voice at the back of his head. “Is it because you found out Newt wasn’t immune and that he was going to die no matter what? Or is it because if you’d listened to Teresa there’s a chance you could’ve been sat here with him, but instead you let him die?”

He winced at the voice, he couldn’t deny it.

“But Thomas? Isn’t that what he wanted?”

he laid back against the sand, silently praying for some divine intervention to come and swallow him up in the sand so he could be with Newt once more. The safe haven wasn’t a haven to him. It was safe yes, but his haven wasn’t there anymore, and why live without someone to live for?

The words of his conscience stuck with him. ‘Did newt get what he wanted?’

———————————————————————

this hasn’t been reread so I’m sorry for any mistakes.

[endlessnightlock]

The Weight of Attraction

aka The Thicc Katniss Story

An In-Panem Everlark a/u

Imagine a world where a canon Katniss Everdeen is not a tiny, underfed girl. Picture her as more...substantial. Big ol' butt. A rounded belly. Broad shoulders. Tatas for days. A girl who is much like the author of this story (lol). Transport yourselves to this world, and enjoy your stay.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got today," Katniss apologized. "Caught some tracks today--- a lynx or something is hanging around my spot. Scared most the game away." 

She didn't add that cold months weren't ideal for hunting. Sae already knew that; she'd spent enough years cooking her "winter special" entrail and tree bark stew to think otherwise. No matter what was in the pot, folks still had to eat. They were, for the most part, grateful to have it. 

Still, the two women frowned at the scrawny hares laid out on the back counter. Realists, both of them, but even they hoped for a proverbial bone to be thrown their way occasionally. Sae sighed. It was a soft little noise that held no trace of censure. "Ah, tis alright. With the roots you brought yesterday, I can make it stretch in the pot. Boil the bones till there's nothing left of them. Still got salt. Salt goes a long way to making anything palatable."

Sae's stand was tucked in a back corner of the Hob. Due to location, it should have afforded some privacy for their trades and conversation. But privacy was difficult to find, and soon enough, a voice that made Katniss cringe piped up from the counter where folks came for a bowl of Sae's stew. 

"What's the matter, not enough meat on their bones? Didn't leave enough in the woods for anyone else to eat?" the man asked.

Katniss had thought she and Sae were alone but of course. Shit. No such luck. Darius invariably showed up at the Hob when she did, like he was equipped with a sturdy girls radar. It wouldn't break her heart if that one bit of luck failed him. It was her turn to sigh. 

Darius was, while not threatening, very much a shithead. Sae insisted he had a yen for Katniss, "pay him no mind. He teases ya like a little boy would in school. Too tongue-tied to make an intelligent remark. Looks like a sick sheep, that one."

If Darius hankered for Katniss's company, bringing up her plump figure wasn't getting him anywhere. Or just commenting on anything to do with her looks in general. 

Not that she found Darius handsome. Blech.

"Keep that up, and you'll be getting nothing in your bowl today," Sae chided the redheaded Peacekeeper mildly. She stayed neutral regarding customer spats, at least in front of them.

"Nar, don't do that. I was only having some fun with her," Darius said. 

On a practical level, because Katniss was nothing, if not that, she knew she was fortunate to have a little meat on her bones living in a place like Twelve, where food was difficult to come by. 

Extra padding in the winter probably kept her from freezing out in the woods, but why anyone thought she wanted to hear their opinion about her body was beyond her. Just because there was a little more of her didn't mean she was open to any and all comments. It made her feel like she and her body were separate beings. There was Katniss, who lived inside her head, and then there was Katniss, who was stuck inside her legs, her ass, her chest. 

"You're a fucking idiot. No wonder you're sitting alone in the barracks every weekend. I wouldn't talk to you either if I were a woman," another Peacekeeper, whose voice Katniss didn't recognize, chided Darius, piquing her interest.

"Ha! I get plenty far with them, thank you very much."

"Sure you do," the other man said condescendingly. "Lots of dates with Sally-five-fingers is more like it."

Katniss had to choke back her laughter; she wouldn't openly encourage whoever was digging at Darius because that wasn't her. That didn't mean she didn't enjoy hearing disparaging remarks slung his way, though. Having her thoughts echoed in solidarity was good for a mood boost. 

After schooling her features into something neutral, Katniss glanced over her shoulder, immediately catching the eye of the unfamiliar Peacekeeper accompanying Darius. 

Despite not knowing him, the new Peacekeeper shot her a boyish grin, and she wanted to laugh at his cheekiness. A charmer, that one. 

Katniss suddenly knew with absolute certainty, call it intuition or the sight or what have you, the Peacekeeper had been looking her over. But not like Darius, who she was sure thought of her like a nice bit of pork at the butcher shop. Katniss was an anomaly in Twelve, where most women were near-skeletal in mid-winter from lack of nutrition. The new Peacekeeper gazed at her more as if she was impossible not to look at. 

It was a silly impression to hold of a man she'd not been formally introduced to. But hold onto it, she did, because she found him more than worth looking at.

Katniss tore her glance from his smiling eyes but scolded herself for her cowardice. It was alright for her to return the favor of looking each other over. Even if scrutinizing the new Peacekeeper left her itchy inside her skin like pins were pricking at every nerve. 

Darius might be tall, Katniss decided, but the new Peacekeeper was much taller. He practically dwarfed her, a near-impossible feat among most men she'd met. 

The man effortlessly bestowed a feeling of not sticking out like a sore thumb on her. Because he wasn't just tall but very broad-shouldered, the sleeves of his white uniform straining over an obviously thick chest and arms. 

A little jolt ran down Katniss's spine at the completely new and unexpected reaction to another person. She even wondered what he might look like underneath his clothes. She'd never contemplated what a man might look like naked. 

Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she clenched them into fists, telling her hands to behave themselves. They couldn't reach out to a stranger.

The Peacekeeper was fair-skinned. His eyes were blue, and his hair was ash blond, like the merchant class who ran the shops in town. His skin was ruddy from the January air and perhaps some embarrassment at nearly getting caught staring at her ass. He didn't realize she knew exactly what he'd been up to. He thought he was in the clear, staring at her ass like he'd been. But no. Katniss was sure of it. He'd been staring at her ass.

"And who might you be?" Sae asked the handsome ass-looker, assessing him casually. She turned back to Katniss and raised her eyebrows in approval. Katniss pointedly ignored her. As if she couldn't see with her own eyes.

"Peeta Mellark," the Peacekeeper said, sliding onto one of the tall stools on the customer side of Sae's front counter. 

"A Mellark. Now that you say it, you look a bit like the baker Mellarks. Surely you're related."

"In town? Yeah, I think so. My dad said we had some far-reaching relations here. I come from Seven," Peeta supplied, unconcerned by the questions Sae most certainly did not pump your everyday 'Keeper for at their first meeting. 

Sae sucked air in through her teeth. "Heard they grew 'em big out in Seven. And they were right. And a Mellark to boot! How interesting. Katniss, don't you think that's interesting?" she added, dragging Katniss's attention away from the width of Peeta's shoulders where her eyes kept invariably drifting. 

Katniss didn't mean to stare. She just couldn't look away from him.

Peeta Mellark met her eye. "Katniss?" 

Katniss nodded her assent, hating the heat in her throat and face. Her voice would have trembled if she'd tried to speak or come out high and thin.

"That's an unusual name," Peeta said as if waiting for more of an answer from her. Like he had to know more about her.

"Our Katniss is a bit of an unusual person," Sae said when she sensed Katniss floundering under his attention. "Takes good care of her family."

"Family. Are you married? Do you have children?"

Sae's smile stretched wide enough to expose those gaps in the back of her mouth where teeth hadn't resided for years at his question. "Our Katniss has no husband or children, just one sister and mother. Tis a pity no one's offered for her yet."

"Sae," Katniss said.

"I have a hard time believing no one's offered for her," Peeta said. 

Sae turned away to ladle stew into bowls and slide them in front of Peeta and Darius, the latter of whom might as well have disappeared with so little attention he was being paid. 

"Maybe she's picky. Those who can care for themselves have room to be so. Perhaps she has no use for men."

"None so far, but I'm thinking that'll change. You got to admit, she's a good-looking girl, right?" Sae prodded.

"Stop," Katniss begged, pressing her back against the wall and crossing her arms over her stomach, wishing she could melt into the sooty walls. She'd developed this stance after puberty hit her right between the eyes---self-defensive and emerging whenever she was nervous or anxious. The goal was to disappear into her father's worn leather jacket, where she wasn't scrutinized as much. 

But she'd left his coat on Sae's back counter. With the thin shirt, she'd thrown on in the wee hours of the morning and promptly forgotten about, crossing her arms over her stomach only accentuated her breasts, pushing them farther up and out until she realized too late there was cleavage peeking out the neckline of her shirt.

Darius made a strangled noise that had Katniss instantly furious. "Wow, you ought to wear that shirt more often. Really brings out...your eyes," he said, definitely not looking at her eyes.

Ass.

Well, that was enough time at the Hob for one day, Katniss decided suddenly. She wouldn't be trotted out like a prize breeding swine on the auction block and then poked fun at on top of it. "You're a twit," Katniss hissed at Darius. She turned away from the three, grabbing her coat and game bag. "Sae, we can settle up later," she said. 

Katniss never settled up later, not when they all existed on the margins, but she was that anxious to go.

"Sure we can," Sae told her. Sounded amused, even.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Katniss ran into Peeta a few days later at Sae's counter, where he sat working his way through a bowl of stew. Minus Darius, fortunately. 

Katniss had thought about Peeta a lot, but she'd also spent a fair amount of time considering how she would make Darius pay for his comment about her breasts. Maybe ask Sae to slip a pinch of foxglove in his bowl next time he shows up. Giving Darius the shits would do plenty to soothe her mind. 

Dismissing pleasant thoughts of revenge she most likely wouldn't act on, Katniss walked past Peeta to trade with Sae. This time he kept his eyes off her ass as she rounded the counter to the back table. She was a little disappointed. "That's a nice-looking bird," he remarked as she unloaded a pheasant from her bag.

Katniss cocked an eyebrow at him. Yes, Peeta was handsome as they come, but was he asking her to talk to him, a Peacekeeper, about her hunting, which the Capitol most certainly regarded as poaching? 

"Don't worry," Peeta pushed his now-empty bowl across the counter and wiped his mouth. "I wouldn't shoot myself in the foot that way, so to speak. Enjoying the fruits of your labor too much. That's just. Really impressive."

She tipped her chin up, meeting his eye. Any pretense of flirting pushed back. "Alright then," she said. "Just see that you don't, Peeta Mellark." 

He smiled when his name crossed her lips.

After collecting her bowl of the day's stew, Katniss took the stool beside him. They didn't speak much, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

KPKPKPKPKP

On a warmer afternoon a week or so later, Katniss was stepping through the scraggly brush leading up to the back entrance of the Hob when Peeta, after glancing around, stepped out one of the rear doors, shoving his face shield up before reaching her side. 

His expression made her frown in confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, tugging on the strap of her bag protectively.

"You can't be here today," he murmurred, tugging on her arm, giving her no chance to broker an argument. He touched her lower back when she resisted and herded her toward the Seam road.

Katniss stared at him in disbelief as they moved, the thoughts inside her head clacking like a sack of coal instead of connecting into coherent thoughts.

"New Head' Keeper," Peeta explained. "This one is bad news. He doesn't let things go like Cray did." He stopped once they were effectively camouflaged behind an oak tree and dropped his hand from her side, stepping back to put a respectful distance between them.

She appreciated his manners but missed his touch immediately. She wouldn't mind a little handsiness from him. Then again, he wouldn't be the respectful man she knew. He'd never even glanced at her ass after the first time.

"Thank you, I guess. Now I owe you one," Katniss told him, hastily shrugging off her jacket and snugging her game bag against her side before sliding the coat back on while Peeta glanced around, making sure they were still alone. 

She should be able to get home unnoticed with her bag hidden that way. But that was just the start of her problems. 

She sighed. She'd have to think of another way to trade until the heat was off. If the heat ever would be off. She'd only known one Head' Keeper her whole life. She didn't imagine it was a position in the corps that opened up often.

Peeta quietly laughed at her disgruntled attitude. "No, nothing owed," he insisted when she scowled at him. "I just wouldn't want to see anything happen to you, that's all."

Katniss caught his eye before looking away and nodding. "Just the kindness of your heart, then," she said softly, heart fluttering in her throat.

"Something like that," he murmurred.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKP

"This way," Katniss hissed, tugging Peeta's hand to get him going as Peacekeepers raced past his inert form to escape the blaze gnawing its way across the rooftops. Hundreds were flooding out the gates away from the fire. The district was on fire. 

Katniss couldn't leave Peeta behind even if she couldn't budge his big dumb ass, not after risking her life just to get to the barracks and warn him. At least her mother and Prim were going to the lake with Gale; she trusted her friend to get them safely in the woods.

Peeta had gone mute in horror and shock at the sight of the destruction, frozen to his spot like that thick layer of ice that sealed in the lake in deep winter, locked in place until spring thaw. Theoretically, Katniss thought, because he was a horse of a man and she couldn't do it herself, he could be forcibly moved, but it would require much more strength than even she had.

Twelve blazed, the hungry fire sweeping through the district, devouring every structure in the Seam and Town. The fire had started in the Hob, flames engulfing the coal-soaked warehouse like dry leaves in a burn barrel, and a stiff wind coming down from the mountainside kept the fire in perpetual motion, allowing it to consume everything in sight.

In desperation, because the heat of the flames was growing stronger at her back, Katniss stood on her toes and grasped Peeta's face, forcing him down to her. She kissed him; it was hard and insistent and inexperienced. His lips were soft, cold, and unresponsive.

Kissing him had probably been a stupid move, but it roused him from his stupor. When Katniss opened her eyes, Peeta stared at her, wide-eyed in stupefaction. He was breathing heavily. She was breathing heavily, too, her heart skipping a panicked rhythm for all sorts of reasons she had no time to separate into neat, labeled boxes. "Peeta, we have to go. You need to come with me. It's not safe here."

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, okay," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Everything is just gone."

Katniss squeezed his hands and then gave them a light tug. "Don't be sorry. Just move. We don't have much time."

Part 1 of 2

What's this? Katniss and Peeta are thrust together by a joint need for survival? Whatever shall they do? ;)

[septembersghost]

my queue was supposed to run out tonight (11/19) - i'm nothing if not someone who clings to dates and anniversaries, and exactly a month ago, i realized i had enough posts stowed in it to last until today. of all the days. kismet. you know when it's time to go. but i ended up adding some posts from my (still copious) drafts, and no matter how i finagled it, it was impossible to make them all fit by the time today ended. so it gets a little bit of extra time. maybe, in honor of this blog's existence, that's fitting.

you all know this, i've said it, typically in gratitude, many times already. this blog was never meant to last. i came back in november 2020 expecting a couple of months, maybe to be here until the new year. i told very few people, anticipating the goodbye, not wanting to cause anyone undue anguish when i had to vanish again. something i didn't expect was the sheer (admittedly devasting) emotion that would tie itself to those two weeks when i started interacting again, nor that it would have any outreach or impact, but somehow it did. then time kept spinning on, extending itself, gossamer threads unfurling each day. my following kept growing, far beyond what i could have anticipated, greater than i'd ever established on any of my previous blogs. moving around is unfortunately a pattern at this point, every time for reasons that felt quietly catastrophic. not being able to pay bills for a while. angel's death and the ensuing difficult circumstances. so here, i kept anxiously imagining why i'd eventually have to leave, how to plan for it. poverty issues. the homelessness we were facing through the entirety of a couple of years until last august (and my dad having to be the saving grace). worsening health issues. i never knew, i couldn't predict it, i just worried about it. often tried to brace for it. maybe i got too comfortable this year, because this was when i started to think it wouldn't happen, that i really could stay. little did i know. and the reasons...are not reasons i ever fathomed, why would i have? how could i have? i wish it weren't so. (i wish a lot of things.)

i thought sometimes about the words i would leave you with, none of which are suitable now. i almost wrote nothing, yet found that feeling wrong, couldn't leave without something about parting.

thus it turns out i'm leaving before it's strictly necessary, before it's the fear of personal catastrophe coming to fruition, not knowing what i'll do or where i'll metaphorically go, as that is the downside of chronic illness and isolation narrowing this to my sole outlet. (lyrics keep running through my mind, there are always lyrics stuck in my head. no matter where i go, there'll be memories that tug at my sleeve, but there will also be more to question, yet more to believe...teach me to be more adaptive...help me say goodbye). my body is in such a fragile state right now (my mind not far behind) that maybe what i need to do is rest. just rest for a while.

this blog was never meant to grow the way it did, to take asks and have conversations like i did, that was a somewhat new (sometimes scary! often fun) experience for me. it's one that will never be replicated. to my loyal and lovely anons, i'm so sorry that i had to cut you off unexpectedly and couldn't reinstate communication - i know that you weren't able to reach out to me as soon as i did that, and that certainly wasn't your fault, it was a response to the tenor of this website. i apologize for the hundreds of messages i never had the chance to answer. i'm appreciative of the things you shared with me and all the times we got to talk.

i sincerely hope some of you learn to be kinder and wiser and less reactionary and more willing to learn and to listen rather than to attack those who have never wronged you and who do not deserve that. i'm being too nice, but i hope you learn that misusing your supposed social justice to do harm and foment hatred and stew in ignorant cruelty makes any principles you purport to have utterly void. my hope for that is low at the moment, but it's still got to be there. waiting to be found.

to those of you who have never been anything but kind, you are true treasures, the lights in the darkness, the loving and compassionate embodiment of human spirit. some of you have (quite literally) helped keep my mom and me alive, and i can never repay that or do enough in this life to quantify it. some of you have been here for me every single day, to listen and laugh and cry and understand. i don't think i would've bothered to fight through these past three years had i not had your presences in my life. i wouldn't have had as much of a reason. there are times when i still haven't felt like i had a reason, i struggle through so many varied griefs, but then i continued to wake up, and would come on here and find something joyful or beautiful or affirming that someone had sent or posted, and it gave me an anchor. there are passions and interests i shared or discovered here that were so uplifting and enlightening, and i will carry them in my heart always. being here to find those was such a blessing. being here with you to indulge in them was such a blessing. thank you. i pray your continued paths have more of that ahead. look at all the things you've done for me. there are certain things that once you have no time can wear away.

you know that line from the wizard of oz?: hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable. maybe that isn't true, maybe our hearts being broken is proof of something. there are people who hurt me on such a profound level who i know weren't affected by it at all, but i refuse to define my sensitivity as a negative. my softness (too soft for all of it, indeed) does not quite provide me with a weapon, but it doesn't crumple. hearts can be broken repeatedly and still beat, which i've thought about a lot lately. shattered souls just make a new mosaic. it's a different picture than it was before, but the color and light persists. and in the remains of that, a handful of people have shown me depths of caring and resilience that i wouldn't have gotten to hold onto otherwise, which is an extraordinary thing. the precious rarities have to mean something more, don't they? i would think so. i believe it. or i'm trying. i keep trying with all my might.

maybe i stayed too long at the fair. maybe this is a consequence of overplaying my hand, gambling a little too much with time to where it had to teach me something. maybe i needed the reminder that sometimes we have to fight to retain our spirits, and other times we have to retreat. maybe i needed a reminder that all that extra time was a miracle. i don't take it for granted.

whether we've spoken directly, be that consistently or in scattered flurries, whether we've interacted in very personal ways or simply in liked hearts on the dash, i hope there was goodness and light in it. i hope there's a memory i leave here that's sweet. (as long as i'm borrowing phrases, i hope you'll think of me fondly sometimes.) i hope there was something warm and enriching here. i hope you know what you've been and meant to me. i said so many times that this blog was my cozy haunted house - the ghosts will linger here forever, and i know they'll never mind if you want to step in and visit.

with all my heart, i love so many of you so dearly. i am so lucky to have your friendships. please move gently through life. please hold onto the things that illuminate it for you, and provide that where you can. please do your best to repair even the smallest of tears in the world. you are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

there must be lights burning brighter somewhere.

something yet remains. i remain. and i do my best to be brave.

[lovejosephquinn]

Pls we need a happy ending to the Joe angst, we NEEEEEEEEED it😭😭😭😭 It was so good but I can't deal with it ending like that!

Relax angel, I got you 👀

Okay, who's ready for a happy ending? Here's part 2 of Joe Begs You To Stay.

Read Part 1 Here. ◀◀◀

Joe had blown up your phone all night, pretty much from the moment you'd left his flat actually. It's safe to say neither of you got a wink of sleep. You tossed and turned in bed, feeling quite sick to your stomach, your mind wandering on what tomorrow would bring and if he'd actually give up or do something about or just whether he actually didn't feel the same as he used too in general. You had ignored his messages and his calls, every single one of them, he needed to realise just what he'd done, giving him a taste of his own medicine and if he wanted to fix it; he'd make sure he did.

You think you eventually fell to sleep, the morning light seeping through the crack of your curtain where it was left open slightly, the racing pace of your heart returning as you realised it was tomorrow all too soon. You checked your phone, no further contact from Joe so you gather he got the message, you decided to go and shower trying to delay the thoughts a little longer but keeping to yourself only seemed to make it worse.

Just as you got out and went into your bedroom to get dressed feeling at least a little cleaner from your shower, your phone began to buzz, as if by magic, Joe had read your thoughts and he was calling. You'd gave him a night to stew it over and decided to answer.

"Hello?" You muttered, the pissed off tone clearly making itself known in your voice as soon as you were to hear his.

"Hi, how are you?"

"That a trick question?" You sat on the edge of the bed, holding your towel up and taking a deep breath in to stop the tears that were fighting to fall.

"Me too, I've not slept. Can I please come over?" You shut your eyes, straight to the point, yet another sigh fell from your lips.

"Yes."

"An hour sound ok?" His voice was so monotone, so downbeat, it was like he was almost mourning the loss of someone.

"That's fine, see you soon." You hung up before he could say anything more, you needed to get yourself fighting fit within the next hour so you were ready for whatever was going to be the outcome.

When Joe arrived, knocking on the front door it was all too soon. Your confidence shattered as you took your time to answer it. When you did, a tired man stood before you, not the usual chirpy, happy soul you were used to seeing.

"Come in." You gestured for him to come through, the usual spark in his eyes had almost disappeared, that on it's own was depressing enough. Joe sat straight onto your sofa, perching himself up, his hands flat on his thighs like a told off child, his head hung low again just like a mirror of last night when he was on his knees, his eyes stared down to the ground not wanting to look at you just yet, clearly nervous from the events of yesterday. You moved around the coffee table to sit next to him, leaning against the arm of the sofa and crossing your legs, picking at the side of your thumbs to help ease your anxiety if even a little.

"So..." You decided to break the silence, if you didn't do it this second, not a word would of been spoken for goodness knows how long.

Joe swerved round quickly to meet your eyes burning into the side of his head. "I've thought about everything, I know I'm completely in the wrong in most respects. I know that in the 3 years we've been together that I've never ghosted you the way I have these last couple of weeks. I have my reasons, I told you half of them last night. It got a lot and I couldn't finish because I thought that was it, I thought you were leaving me. I'm so sorry that I worried you sick and made you feel like you had to push me away, I never intended on that Y/N, I just kept getting busy and then unfortunately my last thought was you but then that changed just before I came home and at the end of the day which to then I would panic and the time difference got in the way. I know that may hurt but-"

Your eyes shot wide at the last sentence, the only words you'd seem to catch in that whole breath was that his last thought was you.

"How charming of you to say that."

"Let me finish, please." You folded your arms, huffing an irritated sigh, you weren't about to go in all guns blazing unless you oh so had too, giving him a slow nod to continue.

"I didn't mean for it to go that way, that's the longest we've ever been away from each other since I managed to get you out whilst I was filming in America last time. But it didn't mean my feelings had changed for you, they never will. I still love you more than anything in the entire world, you're my girl, my fucking world and the distance and not being able to speak sometimes won't make my feelings for you any less, you have to know that."

"So what about getting back, the girl I saw you with?"

"That part was true, she was an old friend from college, we caught up. I'd done something for you that day I'd gotten home and I figured with her being a girl and all, she helped me to figure out how I should do it."

"Do what?" You scrunched your face up in confusion, your features ran softer than before and the spark regained in his iris'.

"Can I give you this back?" He pulled your promise ring out of his jacket pocket.

"Doesn't mean I totally forgive you."

"But this isn't the end right?" You looked down, savouring your reply for a second; keeping him on his toes. He was desperate for confirmation and you had to give it to him.

"It couldn't ever be. But if you ever do anything like that again and I find out it's intentional, you can kiss my ass goodbye." You leaned over and took the ring from Joe, placing it back on your finger.

"I understand. I couldn't ever stand the risk of losing you again, we've been through too much, we know too much and above all our love's too strong. But I'll take that ass kissing any day." You both managed a smirk, it was far from over, but the hurt was far from gone. You were right, he had a lot of work to do to resolve his mistakes, but they were just a big clump of mistakes and he'd never done anything to make you question it before, and you loved him so much, you couldn't bare life without your Joseph.

"So what was she helping you to do so bad that was keeping you from letting me know you were home." The smirk disappeared and Joe's lips fell into a thick line, you noticed the strong gulp.

"I was going to wait until we could go out, something I'd arranged for tonight. I'd called your parents to get their permission and they were ecstatic. I think now's a better time than any."

"What are you talking--" Your eyelids rose 3 times the size that they normally could, your mouth shot open and the anxiety that once made you feel glum, shot straight to excitement. Joe took your hand and stood you up before him, getting down onto one knee, taking a box out of his trouser pocket and opening it up to see the most beautiful and quite clearly expensive diamond ring you'd ever seen.

"My baby, my beautiful Y/N, my fucking rock. You are the one I want to spend my life with and nearly losing you would've been the death of me. This is what I needed help with, this isn't what I was going to say or how I planned it go but now it's here I don't actually think I needed any help at all. You're so perfect to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no more mistakes ok?"

Tears streamed down your face, Joe's breathing hitched with every word he spoke, his eyes wet through just as much as yours.

"Will you do me the honour of becoming Mrs Quinn, will you marry me my love?"

You didn't need a second thought, you knew he'd been honest and he was facing up to the faults in miscommunicating regularly with you. Deep down you knew he wasn't a bad person and that he didn't get a word in edge ways with you last night because you were so clearly pissed off, your dramatics clearly shone through.

You wiped your eyes, a smile beaming so wide and nodded straight down at him. "Yes, oh my god, a thousand times yes!" Joe took your hand, putting the ring onto your left hand and shot straight up enveloping you into his arms, picking you up off your feet in a swift motion. "Thank fuck for that." He said as you both cried a giggle at one another. He squeezed you so hard, and you leant back to face him, crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was so long awaited and had this morning gone wrong you'd have never had the chance again, but at least it hadn't and now you had the best reason to desperately attack his mouth.

"I love you, Y/N. My future wife."

"I love you Joe, my future husband."

Joe put you down, his hand still round your waist as you both flopped onto the sofa, closer this time as you held onto one another.

"So, you wanted to go out?"

"That was where I was going to do it and it looks like we're going out to celebrate anyway, come on. I think you deserve to look fucking hot tonight, get ready, we're going shopping."

"Wait a second, I don't always look hot?" You furrowed your brows at your fiancé.

"You know what I mean, you beautifully stubborn woman."

You snuggled your face into his chest, the familiar warmth and scent that felt like home instantly gave you hope. Your hand laying on his stomach, you watched the ring glitter from the natural light.

"Doesn't mean you give up and forget what happened you know."

"I know, but this is a start." Joe pushed your head up, gripping his fingers to your chin and gave you a soft, slow, well needed extra long kiss. This was the man you knew.

[jo-harrington]

Request for Hymn's of Heaven! I couldn't decide so I'm gonna submit two 🖤

Fresno Nightcrawler

Oh, I've been stewing on this one for a WHILE. A little...something different. Soft...in comparison to the weird hard one I have coming up the pipeline for your last request... Hope you enjoy. <3

Find Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

September 1984

"...no one's signed up yet but I'm pretty hopeful."

"Yeah?"

"And I have a really great idea for our first session."

"That's great, tell me everything!" you grinned and scooted closer to Eddie, head resting on his shoulder while he started painting the picture of Ravenloft.

It was the first day of school. A long and trying day for Eddie.

New year, new graduating class, same old...everything else.

His teachers all recognized him and had some comment to make when his name appeared on their rosters again. So did a lot of the new seniors. His guidance counselor, the same one who pulled him aside and told him he wouldn't be graduating, had sat him down after first period to set some "realistic expectations" for his repeat year.

The highpoint of his day, he thought, would be sitting with the guys at lunch and possibly recruiting some fresh blood for Hellfire, but even then he had needed to fight for their usual table back; a group of nerds had thought "those satanist assholes" were long gone.

He already sat through enough stares and whispers the first time around. Now it was gonna be even worse. He was sure of it.

He promised Wayne he'd try. Promised you too, the two of you even came up with incentives for him to make it through the year; still...he just needed someone to acknowledge his efforts today. Which was why he'd decided to cut the last period of the day--trig, no thanks--and show up at Bradley's to spring you from the tail end of your shift.

You hadn't been hard to convince, hadn't even blinked at the time he'd appeared, and somehow you'd gotten Tim to agree to let you go early too.

"I'm sorry everything sucks," you huffed after you pecked a kiss to his cheek.

You made him stop at the gas station so you could to run inside to get a bag of surprise snacks--an assortment of both his and your favorites--and then he surprised you by parking at the bottom of the new billboard that had been erected by the on-ramp to the highway.

StarCourt - Coming Soon to Roane County

"Course all the days you bring me out here is the day I wore a skirt to work," you grumbled lightheartedly. "Don't look."

"You're acting like it's not something I haven't seen before sweetheart."

"I swear to God Eddie, if you look up my skirt as we're climbing and you fall to your death, I will not mourn you. At all."

Eddie rolled his eyes and gestured for you to start climbing.

Boots clomped up the ladder, one rung at a time, until you got to the top. You were both out of breath by the time you reached the gangway, two kids who had vehemently hated PE enough for it to bite you in the ass during practical applications like this.

But the view was perfect.

The sky was a little ominous with rolling clouds, but through them broke the honeyed light of the sun, which kissed the vast fields and changing trees, and glinted off the passing cars.

You could see for miles.

"Everything looks so small," you giggled as you plopped down and swung your legs over the edge. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"I wonder if this is what it looks like from Heaven," you finished wistfully.

"Where do you come up with shit like that," he laughed and dropped down beside you. "You know we're both going to hell."

"Ha-fucking-ha Munson."

"What? Sinners have more fun, Ms. Catholic School Dropout. You know that."

The two of you spent hours talking and grazing on snacks as it got darker.

Complained about how shitty your days had been.

You told him about how one of the coolers had gone down overnight and you spent the first part of your shift culling spoiled produce. He kissed your fingertips to prove that the rot hadn't penetrated your gloves, even though you were sure that it lingered on your skin.

He told you about the way he'd been shamed for not completing the summer reading even though no one had told him about it.

"They're the same books as last year, Edward," Eddie mimicked the nasal voice of his teacher. "But you didn't read them then either; great start to your second chance. Asshole."

"I'll march over there right now!" you raged, and Eddie had to physically hold you back from climbing down and walking across town to give Mr. Gibbs a piece of your mind.

Discussed the highlights of the day, as few as they had been.

He regaled you with his plans for the first campaign of the year while you explained how you volunteered to plan one of your coworker's anniversary parties.

"I'll save you a slice of cake if you pick me up after Hellfire on Friday."

"Deal."

"She worked there for 10 years. Can you even imagine?!!"

Made plans for the future.

"I don't even care anymore," Eddie confided in you in whispered tones, like a secret meant for just the two of you. "I don't even...I don't care if I'm a rockstar or a...a mechanic or a traveling salesman, I just want out of Hawkins. I'll go anywhere."

"Trust me, I know the feeling."

"Anywhere...with you," he elaborated.

You turned your head into him bashfully.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Your voice was muffled against his t-shirt.

"Oh I'm gonna keep it. You and me forever, baby."

Before long it started getting dark and the two of you were getting tired, and while he would like nothing more than to huddle up with you here and escape to dreamland, you reminded him that rolling over off a mattress was much more preferable to rolling off a billboard and falling a hundred feet.

As you got your wits about you and prepared for the climb down, Eddie noticed...someone walking across one of the grassy fields beside the on-ramp.

"Do you see that?" he squinted in the dark and pointed to the pale figure moved between trees. "Who is that?"

You leaned in close to him and followed his finger.

"Yeah, I don't..." you nodded. "Who is that? Where did they come from?"

The light from a passing car shined on the stranger and they started walking faster and that's when Eddie noticed that their gait was a little strange. It looked less like a person and more like--

"I know we didn't smoke," he started. "But...tell me if I'm crazy but does that just look like a walking pair of pants?"

"Shut the fuck up," you narrowed your eyes and then clenched his arm. "Holy shit it does."

"Ok Miss Monstrumologist," he'd taken to calling you that after he'd seen the term in that book he'd found at the flea market. "What kind of creature is that?"

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Ok first of all, shut up."

"I won't."

"Second...who said it was a creature?"

"So a pair of Elvis' pants just...got possessed and decided to take a walk around Hawkins, Indiana."

"I'm sure there have been crazier stories," you reasoned.

"Sounds like you don't know what it is," he joked, but given your tense silence he turned to you with a glint in his eye and a smile growing on his lips. "Are you kidding, you really don't know?"

"It could be some asshole just taking a walk in the middle of nowhere!"

"First real life creature I've seen and you don't even know what it is."

"I guess it could be...a nightcrawler or something."

"You're just making shit up now to save face." He stomped his feet on the gangway excitedly and hollered into the night. "She's a fake, a phony, a charlatan."

"I am not!"

You slapped your hand against his shoulder and he clenched his hands over his heart and wrenched his eyes shut dramatically.

"Wooed me with your knowledge of the supernatural only for it to be...a lie..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "How can I trust you...ever again?"

"Eddie!" He cracked an eye open to see you standing there with a cute little pout.

"Sorry sweetheart," he returned to his regular tone and posture, shrugging. "I had to take my chance where I could."

You rolled your eyes and threw your hands up into the air before he engulfed you in a sweet embrace.

"So," you said after a beat. "What would you like to call your...so-called discovery."

"Frank," Eddie responded without a second thought.

"Seriously?!" you deadpanned.

"...I think Nightcrawler sounded good. The Hawkins Nightcrawler."

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Begin Again | Saga Anderson/Daughter's Teacher!F!Reader Teaser

Hey, guys! This is going to be my first F/F fic I've ever written and I'm honestly really excited about the direction it's heading. This story is gonna be fluffy and sweet at parts and also smutty, but there's a lot of angst and hurt/comfort too because I can't stop myself lol. Hope you like this opening teaser of what I have so far! I think I should also add this is an AU somewhat inspired by what was in the Return manuscript, and I wanted to explore grief, addiction, and family dynamics.

Masterlist

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When Saga awoke to the blare of her alarm clock, she was hungover.

It was a common occurrence these days, and she felt around her nightstand in the dark of the early morning for her aspirin bottle, the pain splitting her head like an axe into wood.

Great, she thought, she had forgotten to pick some up yesterday. Just like how she forgot to get groceries for dinner. She and Logan had just eaten the leftover pizza from two days ago instead.

That was also a common occurrence. Forgetting things.

Saga had always been a sharp tack, but since her divorce with David—hell, well before that if she was being honest—her mind felt like it was buzzing so loud, that it was fuzzy around the edges, not unlike the static of an old TV. The only thing that seemed to numb it was inebriation, something Saga never thought she would succumb to in all her years on earth.

To her credit, it wasn’t an immediate jump. It started with the pills her psychiatrist had prescribed her, the very same psychiatrist her assistant director had lauded as “the best”. Well, if shoving Xanax into her hands the moment she listened to her tale of woe could be considered the best… then perhaps he was right.

And then came the alcohol. It started with a couple drinks in the evening, just to settle her nerves. But two drinks turned into four and she was half-gone by the time she needed to go to bed almost every night.

A few weeks after the “incident” (god, she hated the way everyone just tip-toed around it), it was clear her superiors didn’t think she was capable of handling any more cases. They put her on leave to “clear her head”, and it only served to make it worse.

All that time alone to sit and stew in her own misery… that’s when things between her and David really started to shift. She didn’t blame him for any of it, of course. He did the best he could to be her lifeline when she felt like she was drowning, but it just wasn’t enough. She got distant. She got mean. And even when she went back to work… it was obvious there was something so fundamentally broken inside of her she wasn’t sure anything could repair it.

David tried, but he just couldn’t handle it anymore. He asked for a divorce.

Then, after spending a few months in a shithole apartment, wondering how she could crawl her way out of this ditch she’d dug herself into… she got a letter in the mail.

It was from a man named Tor Anderson, claiming to be her long lost grandfather, asking her to come visit him in Bright Falls, Washington. She almost thought it was a mistake, that he had the wrong person, but then she noticed a photograph had fallen out of the envelope onto her tiny kitchen table. It jarred her to her core to see this strange old man, her mother, and who she assumed was the infant version of herself staring back at her.

She called the number he had written down with shaky hands, and soon she was in full contact with her estranged grandfather. Hearing his voice… it felt like a balm to her aching soul. It felt familiar. It felt like home, one she didn’t even know she was missing. 

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was coincidence. Whatever it was, she knew that this was her chance to start over. To begin again.

The divorce settled, and David reluctantly agreed to let Saga have full custody of Logan, who would visit him over holidays and school breaks. A small town, safe, surrounded by nature, getting to reconnect with family… it would be good for her, she had told him.

He gave her this gentle look in return—one she knew well, though it made her heart hurt more than flutter this time—and he replied, “I hope it’s good for you too.”

Soon after, she had rented a trailer in Watery—an even smaller town near Bright Falls—quit her job, and moved across the country with her teenage daughter in tow.

Logan was angry. Saga knew she would be. Her whole life was turned upside down in the course of a year, and she was moving to a new location where she didn’t know anyone. Saga hoped that after they settled in, she would understand that it was better this way.

But maybe Saga was reassuring herself more than Logan.

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Masterlist