i don't know what i was thinking when i made this gifs

Being Harry Styles’ assistant might’ve been tough, but it was just as rewarding. An advantage: being able to go to all the red-carpet events. Being able to walk into a high-end store and not getting looks as if you didn’t belong there because everyone knew you worked for Harry. Everyone respected you much more, which wasn’t easy in most of the industries. Sure, you might’ve been living off four hours of sleep a night and a gallon of coffee every day to keep up with his hectic life, and you pretty much barely had any time to sit down and relax, but still! The job was great and your pay cheque was even better. (You weren’t solely doing it for the money because you could honestly say you loved Harry to death, but the fantasy of being able to move out of your dinky little apartment one day becoming a reality was definitely a motivation.) 

Being Harry Styles’ assistant might’ve been tough, but being his assistant while having a huge crush on him was even tougher. As dramatic as it sounded, it absolutely devastated you when he was seen skipping around town with some tall, blonde, leggy Victoria’s Secret model. (He claimed he didn’t have a type, but he definitely had a type.) Having to send the girl off with a care basket after her frisky night spent with Harry just felt like he was rubbing salt deeper into your wound. It wasn’t fair, that was all. You had been working with him since the Take Me Home tour, and for him to not notice you at all in the five-ish years that you had been together wasn’t a great feeling. Now that you were working for him and seeing him 24/7, he still didn’t notice you and didn’t see you in that way. Going out on a date and having Harry see you in a romantic light was merely an impossible dream! One time, he told you that you were a wonderful friend and he was glad that you were ‘like, one of the lads, y’know? I like tha’ about you’. 

So, imagine your surprise when Harry asked you out to dinner. It turns out you had been completely oblivious this whole time to Harry’s feelings because according to literally everyone else on the planet it was pretty clear he was completely smitten with you. You were just the only one who hadn’t realized it. 

“Wha… What?” You felt like your heart had stopped beating for a proper minute when the question slipped out from his mouth in the middle of your guys’ conversation. You were talking about how you were planning to binge watch documentaries on National Geographic for the night because you didn’t have anything better to do, and Harry just casually… asked you out? 

“Dinner. I’d like t’ take you out for dinner, Y/N.” Harry smiled softly, tilting his head slightly as he tried to pick apart what exactly your reaction meant. You couldn’t help but look around the room, feeling as though there were hidden cameras somewhere. “I’m not pranking you, you silly goose.”  

“But… why?” It was clear you were still in a state of shock and unable to form a proper sentence because did Harry seriously just ask me out on a date? 

“Because I like you,” Harry replied simply, glancing over at his phone when it buzzed. He reached over and locked it, focusing all his attention on you. “I think you’re sweet, funny, talented, and awfully cute. I figured I had to snatch you up before someone else did.” Oh. Oh.  

“Oh.” You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. Unsurprisingly, it was very hard trying to contain your screams of excitement at the fact that Harry had been interested in you this entire time. You had to play it cool, though. Now that you knew Harry liked you, you had to act like you had your emotions under control, which wasn’t the case at all. I’m cool. I’m as cool as a cucumber. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight tonight, yeah?” Remember, Y/N. Stay cool. 

“Eight… is a great time to pick me up.” Your fingers seemed to automatically form into guns when you made the unintentional rhyme, Harry’s lips twitching as he tried to contain a laugh. “But, like, I’m cool with whatever time. I’m super chill like that.” You shrugged casually, getting up from your seat and nearly knocking the chair over. Jesus Christ. 

“Eight it is.” Harry beamed, watching as you collected your things and zipped up your backpack. (You were actually running late for an outfit pickup but you couldn’t care less at this point.) “Do you like French?” 

“I like anything! Hon hon baguette and omelette du fromage and all that.” Oh my god. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, rolling his eyes playfully. Your awkwardness was too darn endearing and was definitely one of the reasons why he liked you so much. 

“Alright. Au revoir, mon amour.” Oh, god. What did he say? What’s a mon amour?? Since when did Harry speak French? Your brain was now in a mild panic mode, and you blurted out the first relatively French-sounding words you could remember from your high school classes. 

“…Ç'est la vie, señor.” 

Close enough. 


gif isn’t mine!

Episode of the Week - 7x05: The Twist in the Twister

I apologize for what I am about to do here, but just look at this scene. I simply cannot help it. Brennan is sitting in Booth’s apartment one evening. She is extremely pregnant with their daughter. And she is relaxing after another tough case- with a hot cup of tea in hand and a bit of “light” reading (I assume she indulges in Medicinal Physics Quarterly to help her unwind after a long day). She is obviously more than a little comfortable making herself at home here. Though Booth’s apartment is not quite as “roomy” as Brennan’s, anywhere Booth is- that’s her home too. Always. Brennan is sitting on the couch catching up on her extracurricular journals as she awaits Booth’s imminent arrival. Because they will be spending the rest of the night together. Not for the first time, of course (It’s been five months and we spend almost all of our time together). And certainly not for the last time. Aside from a few forced separations, they will be together every night, from now until forever. Think about all those nights Brennan visited Booth’s apartment in the past (and vice versa). There was an inevitable endpoint. Always a time when one of them finally had to leave. Boundaries. And I have to assume neither one of them ever really wanted that moment to come. Though, they clearly would never admit to it back then. Because Booth and Brennan could not risk losing what they had together. But everything is different now. Now they don’t even have to ask. There doesn’t need to be a reason to stay. Their connection was only strengthened when they finally got together. They are a family, in every sense of the word. Friends, partners, and VERY SIGNIFICANT others. They are each other’s everything. And their relationship means everything. So even if the two of them are in a fight, or need some time and space- They will always come home to each other. Every single time. And if for some reason they don’t, you can bet that there is a valid reason. Booth and Brennan each know the devastating sting of abandonment all too well. And neither one would ever intentionally put the other through that again (note the word, intentionally). When Booth was upset with Brennan earlier in the season, he made certain that she still knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves her. And he obviously knows that she feels the same way. Because she shows him every single day. Excuse me while I go recover from the beauty that is this couple. My mind goes to the craziest of places, even when it comes to the simplest moments depicted on Bones. My initial intent here was only to comment on the fact that while nothing about these 3 seconds appears very remarkable to a more “normal” person, with context, this is another extraordinary moment. I am powerless against this couple. And I am 100% okay with that. 

 Also, look how precious she is. 

Harry knew he was charming. He knew he had the ability to make someone weak in the knees and wrapped around his pinky finger in the span of five minutes, and he wasn’t one bit ashamed of that. In fact, he prided himself on his charms, and it was quite the ego booster. He also knew that his charms helped him become the center of attention in any given situation, and that was always fun. (He would never admit it, but being the center of attention was his favourite thing ever besides performing on stage, of course.) He liked to think that he had perfected the art of charming someone, and never in his life did he think it’d backfire on him. And then he met you. 

Out of all the people in the world, fate had decided to make you the person that was completely immune to Harry’s charms. Not to mention, you were just as charming as him… maybe even more charming than him. He’d noticed that people seemed to gravitate towards you and your smile that was almost as bright as the sun. He knew you weren’t doing it for the attention because you didn’t seem like that kind of person. In fact, it was safe to say you were the complete opposite of Harry. While he was loud and rambunctious, you liked to stay to yourself and keep quiet. Which was why it was all the more frustrating that whenever you were in the room, people would automatically gather around you rather than Harry! The charm came naturally to you, and even though he didn’t want to say it, it was awfully endearing. (He thought you were cute, too.) 

The few times he’d spoken to you, he thought you were hilarious and adorable, which was definitely a good combination and traits he liked in a significant other. And so, he had taken it upon himself to ask you out for lunch, to which you responded with an “Uh, I’ll think about it!”. ‘I’ll think about it’. ‘I’ll think about it??’ He’d never gotten that answer before when asking a girl out, and it left him with question marks floating around above his head. Now, he was frustrated with you because a) you were probably the most pleasant human being he had ever met, and b) he had a teensy tiny crush on you which was something he didn’t want to happen! 

“I’m surprised I made it here on time! I forgot to set my alarm last night and woke up late… In fact, I put my sweater on backward and my jeans were inside-out.” You murmured sheepishly, giggling lightly when people laughed at your little anecdote.

“I jus’ don’ get what the hype is about. It’s jus’ Y/N!” Harry muttered, taking a sip of his drink before looking over at Niall. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like tha’?”

“There’s plenty of hype! Y/N’s awesome. Y’know, t’e other day she surprised me with a box of customized guitar picks because I was complaining about how plain and boring my guitar picks were. I wasn’t even talking about it for long so I was surprised she even remembered it! Plus, she organized my schedule into this little binder, and it’s colour coded, and there are little stickers of dinosaurs that she stuck-”

“I’m aware. She made a binder for me, too. There are a bunch of banana stickers in mine.” Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes on you. “I jus… I don’t get it!” 

“You’re just bitter cos she didn’t want to go out and have lunch with you.” Niall snorted, Harry’s brows knitting together before he shot him a scowl. “What? Just because you’re Harry bloody Styles doesn’t mean everyone’s going to get down on their knees for ya.” 


“I’ve heard funnier jokes than tha’.” You hadn’t even noticed Harry had joined the little crowd that had formed around you in the midst of one of your stories, but his sudden interruption definitely caught your attention. 

“Pardon me?” Your polite nature kicked in, giving Harry a small smile. 

“I said I’ve heard funnier jokes than tha’. I’m surprised that one even got a laugh.” 

“Oh?” You nodded slowly, setting your drink down on the table. “Being a comedian isn’t my job, so I’m not too worried about it.”

“Where’d you get that joke? Off Google?”

“Just following in your footsteps!” A collective ‘ooh’ went around the crowd, Harry squinting his eyes slightly while pursing his lips. He had to admit he should’ve seen that one coming. Most of his best knock-knock jokes came from a quick Google search. 

“I… need to talk to you about my schedule.” Harry cleared his throat, the crowd taking that as a hint to immediately disperse. Harry was obviously in one of his moods and no one liked to be around him when he was a grump. 

“Mhm? I’m sorry if you can’t read my chicken scratches.” You joked, taking his binder from him and opening it up. The only issue here was the fact that Harry didn’t need to talk to you about his schedule… he just wanted an excuse to come and be near you without making it seem like he was attracted to you.

“I, uh… my schedule’s full. It’s like, too full.” He shrugged, eyes flickering to you before looking down at the pages. 

“Ah, I can’t help you with that. It’s not my fault you’re Mr. Popular!” You clicked your tongue, scanning over all the events Harry had for the week. 

“Okay, well… I don’t like the stickers. They’re too distracting!” Harry lied, racking his brain and trying to come up with something else that he thought was a problem with his binder. He actually really quite liked the stickers. He thought they were adorable. 

“No problem! I’ll just use all my stickers on Niall’s binder. It’s a shame, too. I bought a whole set of new ones just for your binder!” You sighed, reaching down and beginning to peel one off. 

“No, wait!” Harry slapped your hand away from his binder, grimacing slightly. How could he put this delicately? “I don’t like you.” Okay, that didn’t work. 

“Oof. That’s not great. Is this because I drank the rest of your juice that was sitting in the fridge? I thought it was mine, I’m really sorr-” 

“No! That’s not what I- You’re bloody infuriating, that’s all.” This definitely wasn’t the direction Harry wanted to be going in. “I- You’re too sweet, and you’re nice, you’re funny, you’re charming, you’re beautiful, and I can’t find anything wrong with you. That’s what’s frustrating about you.” Harry sighed, reaching over and fixing the sticker that was beginning to peel off the page. “And you didn’t want to go out for coffee with me so I was kind of… y’know. I promise I’m not usually this much of a dick, you jus’… you’re driving me insane. In the nicest way possible!” 

“Oh…” Your cheeks immediately began to heat up, your lips tugging up in a shy smile. At least he didn’t hate you! “How about… how about you take me out for dinner next week? You can tell me all about how amazing I am over some sushi.” You joked, reaching over to scribble the date down in his schedule. Harry blinked down at his schedule, clearly shocked that you actually wanted to go out with him after all of that. He didn’t even know how to properly react. Embrace you? Kiss you? Nope, those were both bad options. 

“What did Sushi A say to Sushi B?” He blurted out, his brain kicking into bad joke territory. It wasn’t his fault! He was panicking! See, you made him nervous as well! 

“Tell me.” 

“…Wasabi!” He grinned, looking at you expectantly. It was at this moment that Harry was 100% sure he had just blown his only chance with you. 

“Did you get that one off Google?”



gif isn’t mine!

disclaimer: i do not own supernatural or any of its characters, only the plot in which i write in.

Dean walked into the room, shrugging off a layer of many from his attire and throwing it aside onto the bed next him.

He stopped when he saw none other than Castiel sitting on the edge of said bed, head buried into his hands. He could barely make it out, but the Winchester swore he could hear shuddering breaths coming from the ex-angel, and it only confirmed his suspicions more when he saw the light trembling of shoulders with each and every stuttered breath.

Dean couldn’t help but to let his ever permanent frown deepen at that. Cas didn’t cry. Never in his entire time of knowing the man did he ever shed a damn tear or let on that he wanted to.

Although, he was human now, so it was probably opening up a lot of flood gates for him what with being able to feel the immense emotions wash over him completely. Being an angel had its perks he supposed, he’d give anything to be able to shove his emotions back down inside of him unless he wanted to feel them. Castiel couldn’t do that now, however, and Dean could only imagine what the hell Cas could be feeling right now.

In all of his millenia of existence, he’d probably gone through way more than what he’d merely gone through with the Winchester’s, but it was still a lot to take in, and this life probably only made it worse. Dean knew that of course. The hunters life sucked, any hunter could tell you that from the get go.

Yet, he couldn’t think of how in the actual hell he was supposed to comfort somebody without making it worse. Let alone a damn person that used to be an angel. That’s all Dean was usually good for when it came to support and advice. He’d fuck it up somehow, he knew.

Ah, fuck it. Better something than nothing at all, right?

Hesitantly, Dean took a few short strides across the room to where Castiel sat, taking a seat next to him and leaning his elbows on his knees to keep himself propped up as he kept on praying Cas didn’t move his hands away from his face; not wantng to see the distraught expression that he might find on his boyfriend’s face. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle that much.

“You alright, Cas?”

He got nothing in response but a frantic head shake, indicating that, no, he was most definitely not fine, but still refusing to tear his hands away from his face. Dean felt selfish for being grateful about that.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Another nod.

Okay, damn, what else was he supposed to do then?

“…Can I hug you?”

Dean Winchester didn’t do chick flick moments, that was very well known, but hugging didn’t count. Absolutely not.

There was a few seconds of silence before Cas shook his head ‘yes’, both of them moving at that to go in for a hug.

For a moment, Dean saw Cas’ face, where he had removed his hands, which was adorned with tears. His eyes looked to be bloodshot and swollen from crying, some parts of his face both pale and patched red.

Sighing, Dean scooted back farther onto the bed and motioned for Cas to come closer to him, manuvering them both until the ex-angel was sat beside him, legs draped across Dean’s before he nestled his face into the crook of the human’s neck. His arms wrapped around Dean unsurely, but was quickly reassured when Dean tugged him closer into his side and put his own arms around Cas.

Neither of the two men said a word after that, settling for the silence that blanketed the both of them in the room, aside from the occasional sniffle or shaky breathing coming from Cas.

Eventually, though, Dean found the silence nearly unbearable, and pressed a kiss to the crown of Castiel’s head before making Cas get up off of him so he could stand and make a beeline to his phone.

For once, he was glad that Sam had given him a speaker to plug his phone into, it made it a lot easier to do things like this.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he went straight to his music app and scrolled through the several songs he’d downloaded until he finally settled on one, hooking it up to the speaker that rested on his nightand beside the bed.

Cas didn’t look up until he heard the beginning of the song started playing through the speakers.

Dean walked back over to his boyfriend– if he could even call him that? he didn’t know what else to call it– and reached a hand out once he stopped in front of him, offering it to Cas. Fuck his “no chick flick moments” rule for now. Neither of them would mention this to another damn soul, probably not even each other, so what did it really matter, especially if this helped?

When the other didn’t catch on to what Dean was asking, looking up from the outstretched hand to green eyes that practically glowed in the dimly lit room, Dean spoke up once more.

“I, uh… Dance with me?” He asked tenatively, afraid that this was the wrong time for this and Cas would turn down his only means of how to comfort the ones he cared about.

This was the most calming thing he could think of (aside from quietoy singing), so, why not try it with one of the people he cared about most?

Cas looked a bit upset at that. Shit, maybe this wasn’t the right time after all. Maybe he had definitely messed it all up now and—

“I’m not sure how I should go about dancing. I’ve never really danced before, Dean.”

Internally sighing in relief, Dean let a small smile tug up at his lips, a look of understanding coming over his face.

“That’s alright, man, we won’t do anything too hard. Just do what I do. ’S that easy to catch onto, trust me.”

Castiel slowly reached out to take Dean’s hand in his own, rising to his feet when he felt Dean pull at his hands a bit. He followed after Dean as the man took a few steps back, placing the both of them a good distance from everything around them except each other.

As the first words began to be said throughout the speaker, Dean started to gently guide Cas’ hands up around him to where his elbows rested easily on his shoulders and so his hands could lock behind his neck before placing his own hands on Cas’ hips. He merely started swaying them back and forth after he’d gotten them both adjusted comfortably in their position.

“So close no matter how far Couldn’t be much more from the heart Forever trusting who we are And nothing else matters.”

Dean mouthed silently to the words as the two men continued to gently sway side and side together, the tenseness started to ease out of the both of of their bodies as the song carried on.

“Never opened myself this way Life is ours, we live it our way All these words I don’t just say And nothing else matters.”

Slowly, but surely, Cas eventually ended up closer to Dean after the song was half way through, their bodies pressed against one another as they kept swaying to the song.

Their surroundings disappeared in this moment where it was only about them. The only thing that existed to them in that moment was the soft background and lyrics of the music wafting over them as they danced.

Castiel didn’t hide his face this time. He found it much more appealing to look up into the bright, candy-green eyes that were gazing into his own blue ones.

“So close no matter how far It couldn’t be much more from the heart Forever trusting who we are And nothing else matters.”

Neither of them quit their swaying by the time the music had ended. They still clung to each other, afraid to let go. This was a time that was the most peaceful, to them, the most they had ever had, a time they didn’t have to worry about anything but each other.

But, like all good things, it, of course, had to end. Still, neither broke apart, keeping joined at the hands, nearly clinging, as Dean turned his phone off and guided them back to the bed to lay down. As they lay down, they stayed as close to each other as physically possible, not wanting to ruin the calm serinity that surrounded them.

As they layed down, one of Dean’s arms went under the pillow they shared, his hand on his gun like always. He’d kill anything that thought it was going to bring harm to either of them while they were at such a calm like this. His other arm was around Cas, hand resting at the small of his back.

They fell asleep in each others’ arms like that, separately broken in their own ways, but together.

I’d written this last night before a gauntlet winner has been picked, but now we have him. Yes, Ike is our first male winner in a Fire Emblem Heroes Gauntlet, and he’s an older, non-3DS era winner at that. Which is what people are happy for, as a change of pace.

People wanted to fairly and nicely show Nintendo that an older character won from a game that didn’t sell well, had next to no televised promotion (seriously, show me an FE9 television commercial or promotional ad, at best there’s probably one twenty second tv spot) and it has really great writing won over a character who’s game was televised, talked about, reviewed and is still something people suggest when others ask, “What 3DS game should I get?”

I think some are letting the salt get crazily out of hand. I think some are throwing oil onto the fire of those who’re fairly and quietly upset at the earlier losses which results in their lashing out and furthering the arguing.

However, that isn’t to say we’re without the unnecessary reactions from both parts, and you all know what I mean. The specific name of what others are calling Camilla, but you’d also want to take issue of the person who started it, and it wasn’t someone in the fandom, it was Fates’ character art director and even Kozaki, as well, that compared Camilla to a spotted bovine, due to her horned accessory and he even wanted to take it so far to put her in a spotted cape.

Ike won, however, in a way, he’s lost as well as people are using him as their own ideas and as a mouthpiece. Ike would never, ever, call a woman a “thot.” Thot is an abbreviation for “That Ho Over There.” You’re basically having him call a woman a whore.

Ike would be mortified by that word even existing; he knows plenty of women, women who’re strong in multiple different ways, that fight in his army. They fight and give their lives and their loyalty to him. Women not just like Titania, but women like Mist, who’s his sister and as well finding some level of strength and being able to support and be strong for others in the absence of their father.

There’s Mia, who’s implied to have experienced sexist behavior from other men or a man she knew based off her reaction in her support with Largo and its odd for her to be fighting with the men. Mind you, Mia challenges Ike frequently and Ike likes sparring and training with her as she’s someone that doesn’t bat an eye at how strong he is. Ike accepts Mia as she is and in a sense, he can be himself, as a warrior without needing to sugarcoat it.

There’s Ilyana, despite her being forced to fight early on for Daein and being separated from the merchant caravan. Even before that, Ilyana left her village, a place implied to be really well off for things like trade and finances, to live her life as she wanted. Ike states it comes as a surprise from her to do something so independent, but he remarks her choice with praise and support and made her feel better (Ilyana was seasick).

The list of women that Ike respects is endless, and there’s way more from the Tellius arc than those I mentioned. I’m getting a little off track here.

My point is this, look at that gif; Do the Legends look like they’re arguing over who is stronger, or even the strongest? No. You know what they look like? They look like longtime friends, sitting together with an unfathomable destiny on each of their shoulders. They’re sharing their pasts, their stories, and even probably their cultures and interests.

Roy has a map on his legs, Lucina is sharpening her spear by the fire. Lyndis is talking to Ike, maybe even after giving him some food that’s prepared in a Sacaen tradition.

They’re supporting each other on their journey and its what we should be doing, as players for these Legends. We should be encouraging each other that we’ve all fought well and that its our love and admiration of them and the other gauntlet runners that got us to play and battle together for fun.

Let me reiterate; Ike was our first male gauntlet winner and like Ike, we should also be telling the others that they all fought well. Its a game we play together, we laugh about together, and okay, yes, we do get frustrated about it together, but the point is that it serves as a means to keep us together, that passion to play and talk about the good things about our favorites, not drive us apart.

So, ah….this is an Underfell (AU of Undertale) thing, an idea concerning Flowey that I thought would be intriguing. I’ve seen other folks say something akin to this, and thought I’d put in my own interpretation of it here.

This took forever to make- X’D

Details as for what this is under the cut:

Keep reading

Part 4 ( Please Don’t )

Finally here after what feels like forever. Hope y'all enjoy it because I had fun writing it. Let me know if you want another part. Love you guys!


“Dean-o here is begging me to not tell you all the little secrets he never had the balls to say to your face. You know that, right?” He spat at you.

You were covered in bruises and cuts. And you, not having fully healed from the car accident, this only hurt 1000x more. But you weren’t going to show him how much it hurt.
He punched you. “Answer me, bitch!”
“Fuck you.” You spat blood in his face.
“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.” He plunged the knife into you thigh as you yelled in pain.

“He can’t stand you, you know that right? He can’t stand looking at you. And that girl he fucked was, how did he put it? Was the best fuck he’d had in a long time. You know the worst part of it. You know I’m right.” Your heart was breaking and tears threatened to fall from your puffy eyes.

“He doesn’t love you, you know that right? He hates you. He never loved you. It was all guilt. He felt like he had to be there for you. And god, you were such a burden. Always there when all he wanted was space. To him. You’re weak.” He smiled wide only seeing tears slowly drip from your cheeks onto your red skin.

“Wanna know something else, sweetheart? He couldn’t stand how you looked without clothes. He thinks you’re disgusting. And you know it too. You can’t stand yourself so how do you expect him to?”
“STOP!” You yelled.

The room got quiet and the silence sat between you and the monster in Dean.

He scruffs, “Stop? Stop telling you the truth? Stop-”
“Please…just please stop.” You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You knew the demon was now seeing you at your weakest.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice echoed throughout the bunker halls.
“Sam…” you whispered.

Suddenly the demon grabbed your face and made you stare into the black eyes that over took the beautiful green ones you loved. He started creating hand shaped bruises on your cheeks.

“You are nothing. Especially to him!” He growled at you.
White hot blood filled your veins and you looked down to see that he had stuck a blade into your stomach.
You look one last time into his eyes and black filed your vision.



“Y/N?” Your eyes fluttered open. Panic set in when you realized who was in front you.
“Wait! Wait please! Please don’t hurt me!“you yelled out. “Baby, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m so sorry.” He begged you to calm down but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

“Dean! Y/N!” Sam and Cas barged into the room.
“Sweetheart, look at me. It’s me. The real me. Baby, look!” Dean yelled out to you but Sam had already pulled him out of the room and left Cas with you.

“Sam, let me go! I need her to know! I need her to see that its the real me and not that fucking monster!” Dean screamed to Sam trying to pull away from him.
“Dean. DEAN! Look at me!” He grabbed his shoulders to make Dean face him. “She’s scared, Dean. She’s scared out of her god damn mind. Looking at you and hearing your voice…she’ll hurt herself if you’re not careful around her.” Sam said calmly. He tried to bring Dean back to his normal breathing.
Dean looked at Sam. And tried to steady his heart beat.
“Sam…I’m never gonna get her back.” Dean whispered. “Dean, don’t say-” Sam started but Dean interuppted. “It’s true.” They both stayed quiet.
“I-I lost her because I thought I was protecting her and giving her the chance to be happy. I pushed her away. And then the car accident-” he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“She came back home and then that thing had. I took me and-and look at her now.” He stopped and then rage took over making his fist clench and his knuckles turn white.
“LOOK AT HER!” He yelled then turned and grabbed the chair and threw it acroos the room.
“That thing! It told her lies! Things I would have never in a million fucking years have said to her. He told her shit that isn’t true but that doesn’t stop her from believing the lies!” He stopped yelling.

“Those things it told her. They came out of my mouth and from my voice. From me. But it wasn’t me.” He whispered the last sentence. “Dean-” Sam tried to talk but Dean wasn’t done.
“She use to hate herself, Sammy. She used to have a heavy heart. She once told me that she felt as though the weight of the world lied in her hands. She said that she hated who she was and what she looked like. I changed that, Sammy.” His voice quivered. Sam had tears forming and leaving his eyes.
“I promised her from the very beginning that I would protect her. I would always love her. That I would never hurt her and now I fucked up the only thing in my life that seems to be keeping me normal. Keeping me human. I love her. But now-” Dean hears foot steps and turns to see Cas standing at Y/N’s closed door.
“She’s calm now. Dean-” “She doesn’t want to see me, Cas. I know.” Dean shut Cas up before he could finish. “Well if you would let me finish you’d know that she actually wants to talk to you.” Dean looked up in confusion but nodded and turn to look at Sam in confirmation that it was okay and he nodded back.


You sat there in the dark with your thoughts. How was everything going to be okay now? Demons don’t lie about that kind of stuff, do they? I mean they lie but-

“Y/N?” You jumped at the voice. He noitced.
“Dean.” You spoke softly. He slowly shuffled toward the bed.
He was scared to get too close. Afraid to break you. To hurt you. Even if he’d already done so.
He couldn’t breathe and his hands became sweaty. He tried not making eye contact.

He didn’t know what to say. Should he say that he’s sorry? That he wish he could take back the past month and forget and forgive? That he didn’t mean to hurt you? That what the monster told her was all a lie, yet he knew she wouldn’t believe him.
“I never thought in a million years, that I would have heard you say those things to me. At least not to my face that is.” You finally spoke.
He looked at you seeing tears drip onto your cheeks and down your chest. You looked the other direction trying to avoid his eyes. Or just him in general. It hurt to look at him.

“Y/N, I would never gave said any of those things. Ever-” “Because they were true.” “Because they were wrong.” It got quiet again.
So many thing you both wanted to say but not knowing how to put them into words.
“Was I not good enough?” Again you broke the painful silence. “What?” He asked confused. “Was I just another stupid mistake?” “Wait what? No! You-” you shut him up again.
“I mean look at me. My parents left me when I was a kid and then my adopted family hated me. Then y/ex/n came along and I thought maybe. Just maybe, something in my life will go right. I-I thought-” you choked own your own sobs. “I thought he loved me. And then he started coming home drunk and would yell at me. He would remind me of everything I already knew about myself. Everything I already called myself.” You stopped talking and held in the little whimpers you didn’t want him to hear.
“Y/N” “and then there’s you.” He was taken by the way you said it. He stared and studied the way your lips quivered and the way your eyes seemed to shake and close every time a tear would escape the rims of your puffy red eyes. “You came into my life and became my whole world. You made me feel good about myself and you made me feel beautiful. D-Dean that’s something I’ve never felt before. You made me feel wanted and seen. You made me feel sexy and incredible. You made me feel loved.” You cried.
Now he could feel her heart breaking and her body shaking. But he hurt you and now he was paying for it in the worst way possible.
“I honestly thought that you were different. That you were in love with me too. Crazy, right?!” You chuckled through her sobs.
“It’s not crazy because I-“you stopped him.“What, Dean? You love me? You’re sorry? You didn’t mean to? You what?!” Now you were angry and you were letting go of all the rage and hurt.
“I do love you, y/n.” He spoke with a shaky voice.
You stopped yelling and listened to him speak. His heart was hurting too and his voice was pained too. You can’t stand knowing he was…scared.
“Dean-” “Listen to me, y/n. Just please hear me out. Okay?” He shifted himself to be sitting next to you now.
You could clearly see his heaving chest and red rimmed eyes.
“Okay.” You answered and he sighed in relief. “Y/N, what I did. There’s no way in hell that I expect you to every forgive me. And what I said that night you left. God, I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take everything back. But these past 4 years being in a relationship with you. They’ve been the most amazing 4 years of my entire life. When I was with that girl all I could think about was about how hurt you’d be and how much you’d hate me. How much you’d hate yourself. I didn’t once not love you. I pushed you away so that you would leave because I thought you would be happier with someone who could give you a better life than me.” He was lifting off all the weight that lied within his chest. “Dean-” you tried to speak. “Wait, sweetheart. I’m not done.” He shut you up and called you one of his many nicknames for you. You missed that word slipping from his lips. Especially when he’d whisper it into your ear.
You nodded with a smirk making your dimple peck at him.
He loved your dimples. God, he missed when he used to make them appear on your beautiful face.
He smiled in relief.
"When you got into that car crash and the paramedics called me. I-I” he began to relive that moment. His mind raced and his heart started to beat faster. His tears were out of his control. You noticed how he began shaking and his eyes became red again. His breathing was irregular.
He was remembering that night.

You sat up at grabbed his face. You needed to calm him down. “Dean, baby. Hey. Hey! Look at me. Everything’s okay. I’m okay. I’m safe here with you. We’re okay.” You made him focus on you and only you. Making sure his eyes were on your eyes.
“Breathe with me, baby. Just breathe. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m right here.” You noticed that he was slowly calming down but his breathing wasn’t.
You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.
He looked at you intensely and focused on your heart beat. Your breathing. On you.
He stared into your eyes and let his breathing match yours. His thumb started making small circle patterns on your chest where you held his hand.
“That’s it, baby. There you go. It’s okay. Just focus on me.” You touched his cheek as you kept his hand own your chest.
“I am.” He whispered.
You looked deeply into his eyes and kept your focus on them. Taken by his words. “I miss you, Dean.” You unexpected said out loud. He smiled. “You have no idea how much I missed you, baby.” He said.
The distance between the both of you was incredibly small and you both could feel each others warmth radiating off of one another.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips.
“Y/N?” He asked quietly. “Yeah?” You answered before you knew what you were saying.
“Can I kiss you?” He seemed hopeful and nervous. Scared.
You stared at his questioning eyes and his trembling lips. And without answering him you took his face and placed your lips on his.
This. This is what he missed most about you. Your kisses.
They were like untold stories and fireworks on a beach. Your kisses were by far the most amazing thing that he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. Your lips on his was like listening to AC/DC in the Impala and eating pie. But better.
The way your hands would travel through his hair and land on his cheek. The way you wanted to take your time memorizing every inch of him. He loved that most about you. The fact that you wanted him and that you truly loved him. Treating him oh so well even though he told himself he wasn’t worth that of you. You showed him otherwise.
He separated his lips from your, which made both you whimper.
“I’m not going to lose you, y/n.” He whispered unexpectedly. “Not after everything. Not after the hell I went through to just stand next to you again. I-I miss you. I miss everything about you.” He spoke the last sentence quietly.

“I-I can’t. I won’t let you go. Not without a fight.” He let the shaky words spill from his lips. God, you missed the taste of them. The familiar warmth. The firm yet passionate kisses.

The spark like fireworks.
“I won’t let you fight this world on your own, baby. And when you’ve given it your all and you can’t go on. I will help you cope. Y/N, please don’t-” you cut him off with your lips on his.
The kiss seemed to speak his unspoken words. His guilt. His regret. His broken heart. His dying need to express how he loves you and misses you.
Your warm touch. Your divine taste. Your strawberry scented smell musket with whiskey and fast food. Your laugh that only made him want to kiss you even more just so he could taste your happiness. Your eyes that told stories both beautiful and horrifying yet they still made him weak in the knees every damn time. Your simile. Oh god smile send chills down his spine. The way your eyes tended to become a little smaller when your blushed cheeks would push up against them. Your voice was like music to his ears. Like listening to Angel by Aerosmith, which happened to be the song that reminded him of you. The song that you both made love to on your first time.

“Baby-“Dean whispered in between the kiss. You stopped and leaned your forehead against his. Taking in the moment lying in front of you. It stayed quiet for a few seconds. "Sorry.” He finally whispered.
You cupped his cheeks and you moved his head up to look into his eyes. He stared for a few before closing his eyes to relax into the warmth of your touch on him. Just like old times.
“For?” You asked. “Calling you that. I know you don’t want me to-” you stopped him. “Dean, it’s fine.” “No it’s not. I hurt you and I don’t deserve to call you that.” Dean said firmly. “I miss it, Dean.” You said lowly.
“Miss what?” “You calling me ‘baby’. Or ‘sweetheart. Or-” Dean interrupted you. “My girl?” You looked up to see a small smile creep onto his lips. “Yeah. Especially that one.” You both laughed.

The silence between you both now sat in the air. But it wasn’t awkward or weird. Not at all. If anything it was magic. It was perfect.
They say when your with ‘the one’ the silent moments are the most beautiful. They remind the both of you that you don’t need words to express how much love you both hold for the other one. The presence is enough.

“I love you, y/n.” Dean whispered. You both lied in bed. He would brush his thumb on your cheek and you would let your fingers run through his hair. “I love you too, Dean.”
“No I dont think you understand, sweetheart.” He paused and pulled you closer to his body.
“I love you. With every fiber of my being. And I always will.” You smiledat his words. He did too. “And I don’t think your understanding me, baby.” He smirked. “I love you. All of you. Always have always will.” He pulled your face to his and crashed his lips against yours.
Both of you fell asleep to the sound of each others beating hearts and breathing. The warmth keeping each other aware of each others existence.


“Dean.” You turned around and felt something wet.
You shuffled around and turned on the light on the bed shelf.

Blood. And lots of it.

You panicked. I’m not on my period, right?
You checked under the sheets but no. It wasn’t you.

“Dean.” No answer. “Dean?” You turned to wake him up.
“Dean, baby. You okay? You awake?” You leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Dean?” Now your body froze.

You turned him over.




Part 5? What did ya think of this part? I’d love to know!
Thank you, loves.

She Bit First

by Kirsten Hubbard

Ruby didn’t know where she’d first heard it.

“From another friend?” Arlo asked. Ruby just laughed and braided her legs through Arlo’s.

It was about a boy with rough hands, and a girl who saw a shimmer around the edges of things, and their walk together in an orchard. The girl found an apple that shone like a prism, but only she could see its light.

“She bit first,” Ruby said.

But then the boy took a larger bite, even though the girl asked him not to, and the light dimmed and died, and so did everything, everyone.

“He didn’t listen,” Arlo said.

“Do boys ever?” Ruby asked.

Arlo shrugged. At thirteen, she didn’t know much about boys. They just starred in all the stories.

“Probably he was doomed anyway,” Ruby continued.


“Because of the poison.”

Arlo giggled. Their mothers had warned them about the poison in their blood. At thirteen, they barely felt it. But soon it’d come over them like a virus: burning limbs, aching teeth. Ruby’s were already sharper when they grinned in the mirror to compare.

“We’re the most dangerous of them all,” Ruby said.

Then she kissed Arlo in that joyful way of hers, like giving. Like apple juice instead of poison.


Then they turned fourteen, and Ruby moved away.

At least Arlo had the story. A dark story by any measure, but because Ruby had given it to her, Arlo saw its light.

It became a sort of solace. She’d hurry home after school, her back still angled from the rigid seats and her ears stinging from teachers’ voices, and spend entire evenings curled around it. The boy and the girl and the shimmering orchard. Sometimes, Arlo could almost feel the apple her hands, and Ruby’s legs braided around hers. Savoring the twist in their middles when everything, everywhere went dark.

Then Arlo turned fifteen, and sixteen.

So did Ruby, on some far-off shore that pictures couldn’t capture. “Come visit!” she’d write (when she remembered to), as if it were something Arlo could control, as if turning sixteen gifted you the freedom you longed for instead of more awareness of the walls.

Walls that closed in more every year. For so long, the story had been a prism, casting light into the corners, loosening the edges.

But Arlo was starting to forget the way it felt in her hands.

She was sixteen and her teeth ached.


One morning, Arlo woke up with glass on her tongue.

It frightened her. She ran to the bathroom and spit out nothing. Double-checked her mouth in the mirror. She had nobody to compare her teeth to, she realized. Her hands were empty. Her unbraided legs felt hot.

“It’s because of the poison,” she said out loud.

She was sixteen and she had nowhere left to hide.


“I have to find him,” Arlo wrote in a letter Ruby never answered.

The boy, she meant. The rough-handed boy who bit second, whose larger bite turned off the light.

Arlo knew the story like breathing. The boy was the star of the story, like all the others. But other stories had happy endings. Maybe Arlo could change her story’s ending, she decided, if she could get the boy to listen.

She just wished it felt more like hope and less like surrender.

At sixteen, Arlo didn’t know much about boys. She thought finding him would be a matter of simple seeking, now that she’d widened her eyes. But the harder she looked, the less she saw.

The less she saw, the more she felt the poison.

Day after day after day, Arlo sat in her classroom, where the edges looked straight and still. So did the other students. Rows of forward-facing faces, clasped hands, legs crossed. Boys, girls, they were all the same. They had no fire in their blood.

“Arlo,” the teacher would say.

Ears stinging, Arlo would face forward. Clasp her hands. Cross her legs. Try her best to think about stillness as her fire grew. She’d try until it burned too much and she’d twitch or jerk, knock over her pencil or worse, her book. That’s the only time the other students broke their forward gaze, to turn and stare.

“Arlo,” the teacher would say, even louder.

It’s because of the poison, Arlo wouldn’t say.

One day, her foot kicked out into someone else’s, a boy’s. “Oof,” he yelped.

Arlo jumped to her feet, so crookedly her chair fell over. A bedlam of snickering sent hot darts into her cheeks.

“What’s the matter with you?” the teacher yelled.

“It was an accident,” Arlo said. She stumbled through the gridlock of desks, out the door.

Outside, she sat on the sidewalk, in a starscape of spat-out gum. Her searching hand found a patch of weeds, a wildflower. As the stinging in her ears shifted to her eyes, she thought she saw a quick shimmer before the world blurred.

“Are you okay?”

Arlo wiped her eyes, then looked up. It was the boy she’d kicked. A boy she’d barely noticed, like all the others. Arms, face, shoulders. She couldn’t see his hands. “It’s no big deal,” she replied.

“I asked about you,” he said, “not it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why’d you flip out? You’ve always been a weird one.”

Like he knew her. Arlo ran her tongue along the spurs of her teeth. “I’m just no good at—all that. All that nothing.”

“Yeah, nothing is right.”

She felt slightly encouraged. “It’s probably because I’m filled with poison.”

“Want to find a place to talk?”

“I guess.” Arlo wanted to ask if he’d heard her about the poison, but then he caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. His palm was rough.

“Follow me,” the boy said.

They walked together: down the halls, into the gym. But there weren’t any orchards, just stacks of wrestling mats greased with old sweat. As Arlo sat beside him, she realized she wasn’t sure what a star actually looked like. Not up close, anyway.

“You’re so hot,” the boy said, leaning in.

He kissed her like taking. Arlo didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she put them on his arms. His ropey muscles felt like snakes beneath his skin.


She had to say it twice into his mouth before he pulled away.

“What?” the boy asked.

“You said we could talk.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess. What do you want to talk about?”

Arlo wasn’t sure anymore. Her mouth had gone sour. She wondered if that was the way the boy tasted, or if he’d stolen all the sweet taste from hers. He was squinting at her now, like Arlo’s edges had gone out of focus. Her words came out in a panic.

“I have a story,” she said.

“A story? Like… about someone we know?”

“Not really. It’s just a story.”

He sighed, like he was doing her the favor. “Whatever. If it’s a quick one.”

“It’s about a boy with rough hands,” Arlo began. “And a—”

“Rough hands?” He swiped a sandpaper palm over her shoulder.

“Okay, quit it. Anyway. A boy with rough hands, and a girl who saw a shimmer around the edges of things.”

“Was she high?”

“I don't…”

“High or drunk or crazy.”

Arlo sighed. “Can you just listen?”

“I am listening, obviously. It’s called active listening.”

In fits and starts, she told the rest of the story. The boy, and the girl. The orchard, and the walk. The apple the girl found. For the first time, the story kept moving away from Arlo, like wisps of a dream when you thought right at it. She had to chase it. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to share the story with this boy, she worried too late.

“And so did everything, everyone,” she finished.

“So it was the girl’s fault,” the boy said.

“Huh?” Arlo said. “No, you weren’t listening. Everything was fine until he took the apple. It was never his to begin with.”

“Why didn’t she just give it to him?”

“Because it was hers.”

“Then she was being a bitch,” she boy said. “She made him take it.

"He couldn’t help himself.

"She probably seduced him.

"Why does it even matter?”

Arlo’s legs burned from chasing. “You’re still not listening,” she said.

“Because you talk too much,” the boy replied.

He kissed her again, gripping her arms with his scaled-covered hands. Sliding them over, under. The poison was raging through Arlo now, but the boy didn’t even notice. His skin was flushed with stolen juice. Her juice, running though his veins. The apple was never his to begin with.

She wanted it back.

“Ow!” the boy yelped. He touched his mouth with a finger. It came away red. “Why’d you do that? What’s the matter with you?”

Arlo swallowed. She grinned.

“We’re the most dangerous of them all,” she said.


She didn’t feel bad about it, she told Ruby later.

Because he wouldn’t have listened, even if she’d warned him. That it’s not just about the apple, it’s about the sharp teeth.

That the boy isn’t the star of the story.

It’s the girl who bit first.

Kirsten Hubbard is the author of the YA novels LIKE MANDARIN & WANDERLOVE (Delacorte/Random House Kids), and the middle-grade novels WATCH THE SKY & RACE THE NIGHT (Disney-Hyperion), along with a forthcoming Disney series as Kir Fox. When she’s not lost in some far-flung desert, you can find her in Los Angeles, California.

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Imagine Jared cheating on you (Part 2)

(Continuation of THIS imagine)

I stand in front of the door still deciding if this is the correct thing to do. I can see Jared through the window, looking at his phone every five seconds. He’s got a cup of tea in front of him and piece of cake in front of the seat that I’m supposed to occupy in a few seconds. We haven’t seen each other in six months, and our last encounter didn’t end up in a good way.

I still have the chance to turn around and get on with my life, as I’ve done for the last couple of months. But I finally decide to enter the shop. Jared doesn’t see me at first, and only notices my presence, when I sit in front of him.

“Strawberries” I mumble, biting my lip.

“Your favorite” He says, shock clear on his face, “I didn’t thought…”

“You owe me this, of course I was coming”

I start eating my cake, waiting for him to start whatever he has to tell me, but he just stays silent. I look at him from time to time, playing with the cup of tea on his hands, deciding how to start. I grant him those minutes, I know he’s got six months to invent new excuses to why he cheated on me, but I’ve also had those six months to think.

“You look good, your hair looks nice, I like it short”

“I needed a change” I take my eyes from the cake to look at him, “Something new to look at every morning in front of the mirror”

“For some reason, I can’t manage to cut my hair”

“It looks good” I mutter, avoiding his eyes again.

I take another bite of my cake, feeling the awkward silence between us. My phone starts ringing and I can notice his eyes immediately alert by curiosity. I know who’s calling me and I also know who he thinks is calling me. Knowing Jared, he’s probably thinking that another guy took over what he lost. And he’s wrong. I reject the call and leave the phone aside.

“A friend?”

“Yeah, a friend” I answer, taking another bite, trying not to laugh.

“A nice friend?”

“I only have nice friends, you know that” He nods, sipping his cup, clearly wanting to know more, but his pride was too huge to just ask me directly, “You want to know”

“What? No, you have the right to keep your secrets”

“It’s just Emma” I laugh, his eyes lay on me with confusion, “I’m not seen anyone if that’s what you want to know”

“First of all, why didn’t Emma told me that you two were still contact? Second, I may have wanted to know, but you seriously didn’t have to tell me. And lastly, me neither”

“Emma and I have been friends for a long time, it was obvious that we would still be in touch. I’m really sorry to say this, but I find it hard to believe that you’re single”

“You’re not the only one” He giggles.

Whenever I was with Jared, it felt like the whole world was in pause and we were the only ones moving around it. Now, it was nothing like that. The seconds felt like minutes, and the minutes like hours. When I look at him, I can’t see the man that made me so happy a few months back, I was only able to see the man that destroyed my life. But I got back on my feet, and I was ok… Well, until I received his called asking me out. “I really need to tell you something” He said, and I accepted.

“Emma said you all have been really busy with the new album” I comment, just to break the silence.

“Yeah, a bit, we’re really tired after tour and heading back to the study almost immediately wasn’t the best decision, so we’re taking our time” Jared sighs before changing the subject, “What about you? Busy with work?”

“Kinda, I got a promotion. More money, less work”

“That’s nice!”

“It’s good for my wallet, the new apartment is bit expensive”

The comment changes Jared’s face in a second. We used to live together, but after the incident in the hotel, I came back to LA, took all my things from Jared’s house and left for good.

“Where are you living now?” He asks me, avoiding my eyes while playing with his spoon, “Hollywood?”

“No, outside Beverly, it’s close to work”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that things have turned out great for you” He mutters, with a sincere smile. I smile too, when his hand grabs mine to give it a little squeeze, “It makes me extremely happy to know that…”

“I’m happy?” He nods, and I end up laughing, “What other choice did I have? Cry the rest of my life for what you did? I knew you will recover our break up in no time, I was the one who had to fight to get over what happened”

“You think it was easy for me?”

“Yeah, I do” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest, “And if you called to tell me how sad you’ve been the last six months, I really don’t have time Jared”

“I did not called you for that, I know what I’ve suffered, I don’t have to prove a thing” He mutters, and I giggle at him, “Don’t laugh!”

“And what do you want me to do?” I ask, leaning on the table, “We haven’t seen each other in months, then you called me to say something and now we are fighting”

“I wanted to check on you, I wanted to make sure that you were alright” He leans over the table too, but only to reach my hands, “I… just wanted to know that I hadn’t fucked up your life”

“I’m ok, Jared, you don’t have to worry about me” The look on his face changes from worried to relaxed, “It was hard, I’m not gonna deny it, but I’m ok now. It wasn’t easy to forget you, but I think I can manage to look at you in the eyes without wanting to break your nose”

“You really don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that, my nose is a really precious thing to me, I already broke it once, remember?”

“Of course I do, we all freaked out!”

“Do you think we will be able to be friends?”

“After all that happened?” I think about it for a seconds, but I end up shrugging, I’m not able to think about something concrete in relation to him, “Maybe, I don’t know. Only time will tell”

“I would really like it for us to be friends. You were my best friend after all”

“And you were mine” I add, with a smirk on my face, “I think we might make it, but let’s take it easy”

“I always take everything the easy way” He shrugs.

“Oh, we already know that” I mumble, provoking a red tone to appear on his cheeks, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”

“If we are gonna be friends again, I’ll have to get used to this” Jared sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Oh, and you’re getting white hair on your fringe”

“Oh, fuck you! That’s your fault, I’m under a lot of stress now”

“Yeah, me too, and I’m looking as radiant as ever, look at me” He says, while running his hand over his hair, I decide to throw him a napkin the same moment my phone starts ringing again.

“It’s my boss, I have to take it” I take my phone and bag as I stand from my seat.

“Can we do this again?” He asks me, standing too.

I nod, knowing where I’m getting myself into. He was the love of my life, and he broke my heart in the worst way possible. But here he was, asking for a chance to be my friend, nothing more than that, and who I was to deny him that?

I receive a quick hug before I exit the shop, with the promise of a new encounter fresh on my head.

On One Condition

You waited until the locker room was empty for all but one last player. Your target. Ok. This is it. After this, there’s no going back. Lydia is so going to kill you when she finds out. Ok. Here I go.

You pressed your sweaty palms against the door and pushed, wincing when the door decided to creak loud enough to alert the entire school. You grimaced as you entered, letting go of the door and accidentally letting it slam. This is so not going well.

You heard the water from a shower turn off and someone fumbling around with something. Hopefully, your someone.

“Scott?” You called out, cautiously making you way to the showers. You heard a squeak and then something heavy hit the ground.

“Ow!” You heard him say, and rushed forward against your better judgement.

“Scott are you…” You trailed off when you saw him, your eyes widening and your heart beat going bananas. He was getting up from the slippery floor with nothing but a small towel covering his- well, you know. You knew he was strong and stuff, being a werewolf and all, but you didn’t know that he looked damn good without a shirt on. All wet and shiny and- What am I doing? Focus

You tore your eyes away from his chest and arms and… Everything else… and found his eyes. His face was red and his eyes were as wide as yours were. You just stared at each other for a long moment before you realized that you should probably turn around so that you both could get out of this awkward situation. You waited until you heard the zipper of his jeans before turning back around to face him. He was still shirtless- not that I was complaining.

“Ok, so, um, so I need your help with something.” You was sure that your face was the color of the Communist Manifesto at this point.

“Um, yah ok, what is it?” He cleared his throat, then rummaged through his bag, looking for his shirt. For a moment, you kinda wished that he wouldn’t find it. Snap out of it

“It’s about Stiles… I was thinking that maybe, since you two are practically brothers, that you could tell him about-” His face fell and he finally pulled out his shirt from his bag.

“Yah! Sure. I’ll tell him about-” He slipped his tee over his head, “about you. He’s…“ You started laughing, and he stopped.

“Wait. About me?” You laughed, “I definitely do not like Stiles that way. I was talking about Lydia. She’s interested in him ya know.” You leaned against the tiled locker room wall casually, folding your arms over your chest. “And I think that we should get them together.” You watched him watch you, and payed special attention to his hair as he dried it. It made him look nice since he cut it. Older. Mature- even though you knew that he was a huge cheeseball half of the time.

“How do you even know this?” You sighed and roll your eyes at him.

“Scott. I’m Lydia’s big sister. I’m aware of these things. The point is, they need to get together and we need to make that happen. So… are you in or are you out?” He smirked at you and walked over. Wow. You never noticed how tall he was.

“I’ll help you, on one condition. First…”
You tried to take a step back, only to run into the wall you were leaning against. He towered over you- and you would be lying if you said that you hated it.

“You have to go on a date with me.” You tried and failed to stop a smile. Looking away from his close face, which was grinning wildly, you tried but failed to hide it. He planted his hand on the wall next to your face.

“You know, I can hear your heartbeat. There’s no point in trying to hide anything…” His face was so close. So freakin close to yours.

You quickly slipped away from him, because you know what happens when two hormonal teenagers are this close in an empty locker room. You walked backwards towards the door, chewing on your lip.

“I’ll see you at 7.” And you slipped out.

When Daryl was younger, before everyone gave up on him, there was a word his teachers used to use when it came to him. Potential.

When he thinks about her now, he thinks about that word. Potential. What could have been. What might have been. What should have been.

He holds up a match, and thinks about how there is potential within a single little flame. The potential to grow, to consume, to devour. To warm, to fill, to rage. To make humans quiver and drop to their knees, or flee in fright. Fire destroys, sure, but it also provides warmth, life.

It’s such a little flame, lighting up the darkness with it’s flickering light. So tiny and yet so immense at the same time, capable of growing, spreading, consuming a home, a forest, a city.

Yet that tiny flame can also be extinguished in one puff of breath, one twist of a hand. One single second… gone.

He thinks they could have been a fire. He thinks they could have burned up everything that stood in their way. He thinks, if he’d had the chance, she would have kept his heart warm for the rest of his life. He knows he would have done the same for her.

He decides that what they had was like that little flame, and in that same moment, he wishes it wasn’t like that at all.

Maybe then, it wouldn’t have been so easy to extinguish.

I wanna make this a small series but I want to know what y'all think first. So please let me know if I should keep going.

Btw, Happy Mothers Day!

Please Don’t

“I really fucked up this time, Sammy. I really did.” Dean whispered.


“Hey, baby. Where are you going?” I asked as Dean grabbed his jacket and keys. “Out.” He said quickly. “It’s 2 in the morning. Where the hell do you need to be this late in the night?” I was getting furious. Where the hell did he need to be? “Y/N, I’m just going out. I’ll be back later. Bye.” Just like that he was gone. Without an explanation, a kiss goodbye, or an ‘I love you’. Just like that he was gone.

Few weeks ago Dean had started to act funny. He was…distant. He changed. We changed. He would no longer kiss my lips in the early morning to wake me up. He would no longer sneak up behind me and kiss my cheek as he pulled me into his warm embrace. He would no longer hold me tight and whisper into my ear that everything was going to be okay. He would no longer wipe my tears when everything felt as though the world beneath me was crumbling. He would no longer do any of it. Nothing.

And the worse part of it all? He knew you knew that everything you guys shared, would no longer exist.

“Hey, y/n?” Sammy’s voices brought you back to reality. “You okay?” You didn’t even realize you were still in the library where you had last seen Dean. “Hey.” You turned to see Sam standing next to you with his hand on your shoulder.
You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You just couldn’t. “It hurts so bad, Sam.” You cried into his plaid shirt.
At first he was shocked but he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in tight. “Everything’s gonna be alright, y/n. Whatever it is. Dean and I will make it better. I promise.” He rubbed circle patterns on your back to erasure you that what he was saying was true. Little did he know that the cause of your pain was Dean, himself.
You were laying in your bed with Sam sitting on the edge of it. Patiently waiting for you to calm down and talk to him.
“He hates me, Sam.” You finally said with a raspy voice. But you still hadn’t made eye contact with him. “Dean?” You nodded holding back tears. “Why would you say that?” He asked. “Oh come on, Sam. Don’t you see it?” You were yelling now. Sitting up, looking directly into his eyes and releasing whatever tears you had left.
“Don’t you get it? He doesn’t look at me the same way. He doesn’t kiss me anymore. He doesn’t wake up next to me anymore. He doesn’t touch me anymore. He-” you couldn’t breathe. “He doesn’t l-love me anymore.” You cried out. Covering you face with your hands.
Sam couldn’t and didn’t say anything else. He knew that Dean was pushing you away. But he didn’t know what he was doing to her. To see the girl he saw as a sister falling apart in front of him and not being able to do anything. It killed him.
He watched you sleep and slowly leaned down and kissed your forehead. Getting up slowly and walked out of your room and closed the door behind him.

That’s when he heard Dean walk in. But he wasn’t alone.

“Stay quiet, baby.” He whispered to the annoying high pitched giggling chick he was holding.

“Dean?” Dean looked up to see Sam standing in the middle of the library. “Hey ya, Sammy.” Was he seriously drunk? Sam thought.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Sam asked him. “You need to leave.” “Wait, what? Dean, do something!” The girl yelped to Dean. But Dean couldn’t hear her. “Dean!” Both Sam and the girl yelled for his attention. But no answer.

Sam turned to see Dean staring at you crying. You couldn’t speak. Or move. You just watched the sight in front of you.

“Y/N.” Dean breathed out.

“Dean?” You whispered.


(Part two??)


“God, you’re a dick these days.” Jensen walks to his next mark and sighs. “Fine. I’m in.”

“You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Say it.”

“I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys.”

“You swear to follow his will and his word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own dad’s?”

Father. He was supposed to say father. “Yes, I swear. Now what?”

“Now you wait, and we call on you when it’s time.”

As soon as Misha finishes the line, Jensen begins counting in his head. There’s a crane next to them that begins moving up as they stare at each other and stare at each other and stare at each other.

He counts to 20 before Singer yells “cut.”

“I meant to say ‘father,’” Misha whispers mostly to himself as the hair and make-up ladies fix their faces for the next take.

“You’ll get it next time,” Jensen replies with a jovial smack to Misha’s arm. “Great take otherwise.”

Misha doesn’t respond, and Jensen replays what he just said in his head to see if anything could’ve offended him. Before he can really start to worry about it, the scene is reset and they’re saying their lines all over again.

Keep reading

Please Don’t (part 3)

Part four will be up soon! Feed back is greatly appreciated and thank you guys for reading my new series. Thank you, loves.
P.S. Sorry if part 3 is kinda short, but I’ll make up for it later!


“Y/N! Wake up, baby! Wake up!” Dean screamed. You were so far out of reach and it was all because of him. If he hadn’t pushed you away. If he didn’t hurt you. If he hadn’t broke you into pieces, you’d still be here. You’d still be breathing and alive. But right now that was all on the line and out of Deans hands.


“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor calls out to the people waiting in the lobby. Deans’ head shot up. “Yes! Yes, that’s me. Is she okay? Is she alive? Is she-” he got cut off by the doctor. “She’s stable. She won’t be able to go home for another couple of days, but she’ll be fine.” Dean looked over at Sam and shook his head.
“Thank god. Can I see her?” He asked with a shaky voice. “Absolutely.”

The doctor opened the door and Dean pecked in. Your body looked lifeless. Cuts and bruises covers your face and legs.
You were so vulnerable.
You were broken and torn apart because of him.
You were here because of his stupid mistakes.
You were here because he hurt you in ways he can’t fix.
You were here because of him.

Sam watched his brother stare at your body. He could see the guilt pulsating off his body. He knew Dean was blaming himself for this happening to you. He knew he never forgive himself for putting you here.

“Dean, you know this isn’t your fa-” “Don’t. Sammy. Just don’t.” He shut Sam up. He stood over you and touched your hand. He could still feel that warm spark that spread throughout his body when he made contact with your skin. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on you lips still feeling the passion and the love you both shared for each other. That spark. He felt it.

But he was so scared to get near you. After everything he had done. After all of it, he couldn’t push you away an further. He was scared.

“I’m gonna get us some coffee.” Sam said as he walked out of your from and closed the door.

Dean pulled the chair closer to your bed. He stayed quiet and listened to your soft breathing and again lost in his own thoughts.

‘Look at her. Look. Look at what you did. This. This is your fault. She’s here because of you. She’s broken and hurt because you decided push her away. You did this! You killed her!’

“I’m sorry!” Dean yelled. He realized he could have woken you up so he just sits there. Dean puts his head down trying to think of something else but his thoughts seemed to not want that.

‘Sorry isn’t ever going to be enough and you know it. She’s not going to look at you the same way and she’s never going to love you again. She’s not ever gonna forgive you! She will never-’

“Stop doing that, Dean.” Deans’ head shot up to see your beautiful eyes look at him. You were awake.

“Y/N.” He whispered as a smile spread across his cheeks.

Dean stood up and cupped your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but to stare at his beautiful green grass eyes. The beautiful eyes that told the thousands of stories of how much pain and love he held within his heart. All the passion and strength. The eyes that looked into your soul and made you feel like the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. The eyes that made you feel infinite.
But it’s those same eyes that hurt you and made you build up those walls that broke them down in the first place. The same eyes that took your heart away, and then tore it into pieces and left you feeling like nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“You’re awake, sweetheart. Oh my god, I thought I’d lost you-” he stopped talking when he felt you pull both his hands away from your face.
“You did lose me, Dean.”

He pulled away and stepped back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I-” “You think 'sorry’ is going to fix this!” You yelled at him. He stopped talking and just stared at you.
“You think that after everything. Everything you did to me. After all those years of breaking down those wall I had built up. You told me, Dean! You told me you would never hurt me! Y-you think-” your voice was shaking and you couldn’t speak because you knew you would break down. And you didn’t want him to see you cry. You didn’t want him to see you at your weakest.

“Y-you think just because you"Y-you think just because you show up here, it’ll all gonna be okay? Am I really that stupid to you?” You questioned.
“What? No! Not once did I think you were stupid.” Dean tried to get close but you flinched. That broke him.

“You cheated on me, Dean.” You spoke softly. He could hear how broke you were.
“Baby-” the door opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the doctor says you can leave now. She has to stay in bed though. No fun for either of you.” The nurse joked.

He turn to you after the door closed again.

“Sweetheart, listen-” Dean stopped. “Just take me home, Dean. I just wanna go home.” You looked away from those eyes.
Missing them already.


Two weeks later

You and Dean hadn’t talk since you got back from the hospital. And in total honesty it was killing both of you.

You both missed each other’s touch and the closeness. You both missed how amazing your lips tasted and the fire that arose from the warmth of each other’s skin. You both missed the slow but beautiful sex and then cuddling against each other while whispering sweet nothings into the others ear. You both missed how good it felt to be wanted and seen by the other.
You both missed each other. But that will never be the same. Never.

Dean meant a lot to you. He made you feel things you’d never felt before. He made you want things you never thought you’d ever want. He made you see that even in a world of evil and pain, there is still love and hope. He made you feel beautiful in every way possible. He broke down those wall you built up.
He cared for you.
He held you.
He kissed you.
He touched you.
He spoke to you.
He wanted you.

He loved you.

It was about 2 in the morning when you were walking out of your room to get water from the kitchen.
The cold floor working its way to the rest of your body leaving you in chills.

You open the fridge and grab a bottle of water and sit at the table just staring into nothingness.
Now your thoughts fills the quiet room.

'You’re so weak. No wonder Dean cheated. You can’t even be in a quiet room without thinking about him. Thats pathetic. You’re pathetic. Look at yourself. You’re not beautiful. You’re not at all attractive and god you’re fucked up. He cheated because he wanted to look at someone who wouldn’t make him gag. You deserved this.’

“Stop!” Tears streaming your face and you escaped your thoughts.
“Sweetheart?” Dean’s soft voice brought you back to reality.
“Sorry, Dean. I-I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll just go back to bed.” You got up and before you could walk out of the room he grabbed your arm. “Don’t apologize, baby.” You put your head down and sobbed.
Dean picked up your chin and looked at you. He wiped off the tears and leaned down to your ear.
“By the way, Dean says hi.”
You were confused. You looked up.

Black eyes.

______________ (Should I keep going?)

I think you can call me Niles now.

Moffat is perhaps the most magical, and lyrical writer that Doctor Who has ever had the pleasure of showcasing. He’s perhaps also one who understands who the Doctor is, the most. In his own words, on why he considers the Doctor the ultimate hero -

“Heroes are important. History books tell us who we used to be, documentaries tell us who we are now, but heroes tell us who we want to be and a lot of our heroes depress me. But you know when they made this particular hero(The Doctor), they didn’t give him a gun, they gave him a screwdriver to fix things. And not a tank or warship or X-wing fighter. They gave him a call box from which you can call for help. And they didn’t give him a superpower or pointy ears or a heat ray. They gave him an extra heart. They give him two hearts and that’s an extraordinary thing because I don’t think there will ever be a time when we don’t need a hero like the Doctor.”

Moffat has the capacity to bring fairytales to life, his stories are sometimes dark and unforgiving, but in the end, almost always triumphant. I think he knows that reality has a lot to say otherwise, and so he tries to bring out the best in us through stories. Stories were always meant to inspire. There’s magic and twists and turns but in the end we all come out with our hearts broken, reciting that one line that punched a hole in our hearts and buried itself deep within, because no matter how many “plot holes” you pull out of his stories, it’s never about that. His stories are about the enigma of relationships and life and magic, and I will always be grateful that I was able to witness them.