light-outside

wear black during any of the following situations:
-it’s light outside
-there’s no light
-you’re high as a kite
-you’re dead sober
-you’re going to the intervention
-on the walk back to the car (after the intervention)
-in the present tense
-wherever you are

Oceans - Stuart Twombly

inspired by the song Oceans by Seafret
word count: 4614

The scene was picture perfect.  Bright smiles, twinkling eyes, the fairy lights hung around the outside of the cafe illuminating the dark night.  Every time I looked at the picture, I could feel my heart beating in my chest.  My friends, all sitting around this horrible metal table.  Arms loosely wrapped around each other, cheeks pressed together, peace signs, a typical picture of a bunch of goony young adults.

The rose gold frame sat on my desk, catching my eye every time I typed away on my laptop, or watched Netflix, or worked on a new project Google handed to me.  I’d look at it for a few moments, it was never just a glance.  It probably took a good chunk of my day actually.  I’d stare at it, eyes flickering to every little detail.  The whiteness of Neha’s teeth, Lyle’s glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose, one of Billy’s eyes was half closed, my hair was messy, spilling over my shoulders from under Stuart’s beanie.  My gaze would linger there, and if I was feeling peculiarly nostalgic or depressed, I’d gently caress the glass protecting the photo with my fingers, then go back to my work like nothing had happened.  Oh the vicious cycle of depression.

Today was the day where I got up early, ready for whatever my job would bring me.  Some days were harder than others, but never usually too difficult.  Though every night I walked back into my apartment with heavy feet.  But that had nothing to do with the difficulty of work.  No that was just plain anxiety and stress.

See, it used to be incredible.  Working on the greatest team of delinquents, that had quickly become my closest friends.  Winning the intern competition last year was probably one of the greatest moments in my life, that I’d remember forever.  Us dorks felt like we were on top of the world.  We’d even gone out for celebratory pizza afterwards.  That’s when things started happening.  That’s when I grew closer to Stuart Twombly.


The irritating and sarcastic boy that couldn’t handle being away from his phone, had seemed to transform into a completely new person in a matter of forty five minutes.  I hadn’t spoken much with him, in fact we’d never even been alone together or held a solid conversation without the rest of the team being there.  So when he’d sat in the same booth with me, I was slightly confused.  Neha had quickly slid in across from me, which I silently thanked her for, seeing she was the closest person I had on the team.  Lyle was on the other side of Stuart, fitting three of us into one booth (which left absolutely no space between our legs) and Billy and Nick and Yo-Yo were squashed in with Neha.

The night was fun though, we’d ordered many pizzas, and stayed until closing.  We joked around, made fun of Gharam, and his relentless act towards asking me out. 

“I mean, how many times did he try?” Nick snickered.  I blushed and looked down at my lap. 

“Seriously, the creep should’ve left you alone after the sixtieth decline” Lyle said, an awkward laugh following.  “How about a date with a real man?” My eyes widened slightly as I tried to see of he was being serious or not.  I couldn’t really tell.

“Come on man, Gharam just started leaving her alone give her the space to breathe” Stuart spoke before I could say anything at all.  I looked up at him for a moment, just as everyone began laughing again.  But he somewhat ignored my glance, pretending to be interested in whatever Billy was saying.  When I realized he wasn’t going to look back at me, I turned away and picked at my meal.

We’d stayed for another few hours that night, until a waitress came over and told us that she couldn’t let us stay any longer.

Her eyes were bored, dull as she looked over our table.  I’d figured we’d annoyed her.  We weren’t exactly a quiet group.  But they landed on Stuart, to which she’d grinned mischievously, and her blue eyes lit up with what I could only describe as desire.  Though the look didn’t bother me, it did confuse me greatly.

“Alright, we’ll be on our way” Nick had said, and everyone began sliding out of the booths.  Stuart stood, and our waitress opened her mouth to speak, but he turned away from her, smiling softly towards me as I scooted out of the seat.  Stuart held his hand down to me, and it landed on the small of my back as I stood.  It stayed there as I walked with him to the front door of the restaurant.

Again, confusing me greatly.

But as soon as we were out of the view I looked wildly up to him, my eyes wide and brows furrowed with confusion and question.  But he shook his head, just barely, but enough for me to close my mouth before any questions could be asked.  The others had caught up to where we were waiting and we all left.

We walked up to the Golden Gate Bridge, as we’d done a few times before to go relax.  I’d been there countless times, (I lived in San Francisco) but every time I went it was still just as breathtaking.  The group of us laid down in the grass, enjoying the view of the night sky.

“Does anyone know any constellations?” Yo-Yo asked, a few feet away from me. 

“Yeah I do” I said, already searching the sky for familiar ones.  “There’s Orion” I said, pointing up to where I recognized his belt.  “That’s Delphinus, Taurus, Pavo” I looked for more, licking my lips as I tried to remember them all.  “I think.. Yeah thats Scorpius, and that’s-”

“How do you remember these all?” Stuart asked from right next to me.  I turned my head, meeting his whiskey brown eyes.  I blinked for a moment, then chewed on my lip.

“I uh… I minored in astrology for two years” I murmured.  I didn’t mean to be quiet, my voice just sorta failed me.  Stuart smiled at me, eyes flickering between mine and making my breathing shallow before he looked back up at the stars.  I continued to stare at him for a moment, how freckles scattered over his jaw, and long strands of chocolate brown hair poked out from under his beanie, slightly over his ear.  When I felt I’d stared for too long, I blushed and quickly looked away.

I think I was growing very fond of this Twombly boy.

When it became so late, the sun began to poke up, I was nudged.  Apparently that night I’d fallen asleep in the grass.  

My eyes fluttered open to see Stuart and Neha hovering over me.  I waved them off and closed my eyes again, turning on my side.

“Come on y/n” Stuart sighed, and a few seconds later I felt strong arms pull me up.  I yelped, jolting and opening my eyes quickly, only to hear his chuckle.  “You’re fine, just go to sleep” Again, I’d found myself confusedly staring at him.  But he didn’t see.  He was talking quietly with Billy and Nick.  This time I fell back asleep. 

When I woke up again, I was being shook gently.  I yawned, eyes landing on Stuart.

“Wha-where am I-”

“Calm own would you? Don’t you trust me?” I thought for a moment, opening and closing my lips.  That was when I registered I was sitting in a taxi cab, and my head had been laying on his shoulder, cushioned by his beanie.  Which still sat there.

“S-sorry did I fall asleep o-on you?” He chuckled and shrugged.

“Your fine.  This is your complex right?” He asked, pointing up at the building lot we just pulled into.  I nodded.  “Good, that’s what Neha told me” He said.  I straightened up, cracking my back as the driver parked.  Stuart opened the door, stepping out and holding his hand out to me.  My eyes locked on his for a long moment, before slipping my palm into his and letting him help me out of the car.

In fact, he’d walked me inside, and into the elevator to the third floor, down the hall to my room as I’d directed.  I stuffed my hand into my pocket, grabbing my key and unlocking the door.  When I stepped inside, I realized our hands were still conjoined.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked, not wanting to let go for an unknown reason.

“U-uhm sure” Stuart nodded, and I gestured my head for him to come inside.  I released his hand, kicking off my shoes and padding my bare feet into the kitchen, and searching in the fridge for a beer.  “I-I’ve never been here before” Stuart spoke, looking around.  It was a pretty open apartment, the kitchen and living room practically conjoined.  Only two doors, one leading to the bathroom, and one to my bedroom.

“No one has, really” I said, plopping two glasses onto the countertop, then searching for a bottle opener.

“Seriously?” Stuart walked over to me, standing on the other side of the counter.  I nodded, going through drawers until I finally found it.  I easily popped off the caps of the two glasses, and slid one over to him.  He took it happily and I picked up mine. 

“No, I don’t have company over for anything” I said with a shrug, heading to the living room.

“Not even Neha?” 

“Not a single person” I said, plopping onto the couch.  Stuart sat next to me, turning sideways to face me.  “To you Stuart Twombly” I said, raising my glass.  “For being my first guest” He rose his glass, to clink with mine.

We must’ve sat there for an hour, drinking until I was out of beer, and glasses of empty alcohol bottles were all over my coffee table.  Not necessarily to get drunk, but we were having too good of a time.  It was as though if we’d stopped, then the night would be over.  We were enjoying ourselves so much, talking and laughing about little things.  To think, the day before, that the only thing  could tell you about Stuart Twombly, was his name, and he had an obsession with beanies and his phone. 

“Okay okay okay…” I giggled and slurred drunkenly.  “I’ll pick… truth” I said with a big smile.  He was pensive for a moment, then grinned when he came up with an idea.

“Why’d you move here when you were so young?” 

“I wasn’t that young.  I was nineteen” I started, taking a swig of my beer.  “My hometown sucked.  I was bad at making friends so I didn’t have any, my parents… I didn’t have daddy and mommy issues by any means… but I needed a change” He nodded, content with my answer and took a drink.  “Now, truth or dare?” 

“Dare” He replied and I clapped my hands. 

“I dare you to do a handstand!” I squealed, and he eagerly jumped off of the couch, then awkwardly laid his upper back and neck on the floor, propping his legs up, then laying his hands flat on the ground.  He was able to hold himself up for a few seconds, but toppled over in a fit of laughter right afterwards. 

“I almost did it” He slurred, still chuckling as he sat back up on the sofa across from me.  We clinked glasses. 

“Oh so close” I said with a giggle before drinking.

“Alright y/n, truth or dare?” Stuart asked, and I thought while he took a long drink. 

“Okay… I’ll do a dare” I gave in, to his surprise.  I had been dodging that choice the past fifteen minutes we’ve been playing.  “Give me a good one though, not some lame ass prank call, you can do better than-” 

“I dare you to kiss me” He said, in the softest voice I’d heard all night.  My rambling was cut short, and I felt for a moment like I’d completely sobered up.  I was staring straight into his honey eyes.  I licked my lips hesitantly, then slid forward on the couch.  I set my beer on the table, as did he.  The entire environment of the room changed, and I realized my eyes had lingered on his lips for too long.  I sure had a problem with staring at this boy.  I looked up into his eyes for a moment, before closing mine and leaning in.

Our lips touched in a gentle kiss, my hands sliding up to frame around his face, pulling him ever so slightly closer.  Stuart’s arms wrapped around my waist, tugging me further against him on the couch, until our chests were pressed together.  I sucked in deep through my nose before we parted.  His eyes stared into mine, and neither of us moved.  Just our chests as we breathed deeply. 

“Th-that was my first kiss” I told him softly between quiet pants.  His brows knit together, confused. 

“What? H-how?” I blinked a few times, unsure of how to answer.  Maybe because I’d never had a boyfriend? But I wasn’t about to admit that now.  Stuart released my waist, a hand raising to tangle his fingers slightly into a strand of my hair. “Can you promise me something, y/n?” He asked in a murmur.  I nodded as he intricately placed the hair behind my ear.  “Promise me you won’t forget how beautiful you are” He said quietly.  I nodded my head after a moment.

“I promise” I answered, cheeks pink in a blush.  Stuart smiled a small but genuine smile, and pulled away from me.

We sat back on our respective sides of the couch, and continued our game. 

I thought for a moment as I remembered that night.  We were so carefree, and maybe it was the alcohol, but maybe it was just how we were in general.  Maybe we were just two young adults, enjoying our Friday night, getting to know each other.  Or maybe it was what I had thought.  Maybe we were falling in love.

Two weeks later, and Stuart and I were still complaining about our killer hangovers from our long night of drinking and talking.  I’d woken up the next morning on the couch, my head in his lap, cradling an arm that didn’t belong to me.  He was sat upright, his head hanging off the top of the couch and groaning about a headache.  I’d remembered the events from the night before, and somehow managed to get up to retrieve aspirin. 

Stuart and I became close friends.  Very close in fact.  The kind people constantly think are dating, not that I minded.  I wasn’t sure if he did.  I wasn’t even sure if he remembered what had all taken place that night, but I didn’t push the subject.  We became the kind of friends who walk around holding hands, or hug, share food and drink, kiss on the cheek here and there- hell even I would think we were dating.  (i wish).

We were sitting in my apartment, the night after our photo was taken at the cafe, his infamous beanie resting on my head.  In fact, I was wearing it as of this moment.  The both of us were sat on the sofa, watching tv.  He was scrolling through his phone while I laid across his lap, my head on the armrest of the couch. 

“Hey Stew” I said softly, not sure if I really wanted to ask the question I’d been hung up on for the past days.

“Mhm?” He dropped a hand to my arm to show he was paying attention, seeing that his eyes were glued to his phone. 

“Do you remember the night you came over?” 

“Mhm, worst hangover of my life” He snorted, glancing to me for a short moment.  “Why? Wanna get drunk?”

“No, no Stew it’s important” I said as seriously as I could, but my voice was still quiet.  His brows furrowed as he turned off his phone and looked at me. 

“Alright” He said, meeting my eyes.  “What’s going on in that messy head of yours?”

“Do you remember anything besides the hangover?” I asked, finding it difficult to hold his gaze.  “At all?” I asked when he didn’t answer. 

“Hold on I’m trying to think… I drank a lot that night” His eyes were squinted, and my heart managed to sink and beat faster at the same time.  “I… we played truth or dare…” He started slowly and I nodded eagerly. 

“Yeah yeah we did”

“And.. and I did a handstand?” I chuckled quietly and nodded again.  “And… and you told me ab-”

“You asked me to kiss you” Stuart’s brows raised.

“Well that would’ve been something to remember” Normally I would have laughed. 

“But-but you don’t?” Stuart shook his head.

“No… why was I bad?” He chuckled awkwardly to himself.  I pushed myself up, and crawled off of his lap.  “Why- are you alright?” I nodded, even though I wasn’t.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d made things awkward for you that night” I just shook my head repeatedly, staring down at my lap, where my hands were wringing together.  “Hey is there.. Is there something else going on?” Stuart asked, turning to face me but I shook my head again.  “y/n/n don’t lie” He put one of his hands on mine.  “y/n” He said more sternly.  I hesitantly turned my head meeting his eyes and I felt my foot tap quickly on the ground.

“Sorry, sorry no I don’t know what- I don’t know what got into me” He frowned, but eventually got up and stretched a little.

“I’m gonna get a drink” He said, walking over to the kitchen.  I watched as he opened the fridge, and surprised me by pulling out a pop can. 

“No beer?” He shook his head.

That was the last time Stuart and I talked to each other.  Three months passed, and he hasn’t bothered to talk to me whatsoever.  I can’t really tell why, I don’t remember having done anything that would’ve driven him away.  The rest of that night I hadn’t mentioned the kiss, and it’s not like I admitted to him that I was in love with him.  At first, it just really pissed me off, but now I just keep more to myself than before, and tried to ignore him at all costs. 

No, that does not mean I’m happy.  In fact, I’m beyond miserable.  I don’t remember the last time I’d spoken to any of them, I’d hardly spoken at work at all.  Just on the phone when a customer or my boss called.  I’m not sure when Neha and I’s friendship ceased, somewhere along the line we just stopped talking.  Sometimes she sits at my small table in the cafe for lunch, but we still don’t converse.  Just sit there silently.

I walked in this morning, not anywhere near as dressed up as I used to get for work.  I was in jeans, old and worn biker boots, and a tee shirt.  My hair was in a ratty and messy bun, I don’t think I brushed my hair at all this morning.  In fact, I don’t even remember walking to the building (I lived just two blocks away) but I can’t tell you remembering the scenery or people I passed.  I groaned, rubbing my eyes as I sat down at my desk.  My elbows propped up onto the desk as I dragged the skin around the edges of my eyes, hoping to rub the sleep out of them.  It wasn’t working.  A small groan left my lips as I turned on my computer and began to sign in. 

“Good morning y/n” I jumped slightly, dropping my computer mouse onto the floor by my foot.  “Oh I’m sorr-” 

“It’s okay Lyle” I mumbled.  “What did you want?” He seemed to swallow thickly, and readjusted the glasses on his nose.  It made me think of the way Stuart used to always crinkle his nose before pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

“Well uh, I’ve actually noticed your lack of interaction with the rest of the team, are you alr-” 

“I’m fine, is here something important?” I snapped a little, but didn’t raise my voice.  I didn’t want the others to notice my ‘coming out of the shell I’d been hiding in’ moment. 

“Actually yes… someone from Communications is here to speak to you about your performance” I nodded my head.

“Well where are they?”

“At the door actually” I turned, and just as I did, Gharam walks over and stands himself next to Lyle, in front of me.  I stared with wide eyes up at him, having heard many stories from Neha and Stuart about Gharam and his… foolish charms.  “You look surprised darling” He spoke in an English accent, but something was off about it.

“I am, I wasn’t informed of any meeting, until here you are now” I straightened up, seeing that he was trying to intimidate me by leaning over, eyes downcast towards me.  I pulled a slight smirk on, just small enough to be noticeable but not questionable.  He only reciprocated it.

“Well love, I have an important question for you” You nodded, prompting him to continue.  “Attention! Low life Google team!” Gharam held his hands out, earning the attention of Neha, Billy, Nick, Yo Yo, and Stuart, who watched me intently.  But I looked back to Gharam.

“What’s this all abou-”

“Your very own lovely y/n here,has been given the opportunity of a promotion!” Besides Graham’s clapping, the room was silent.  I continued to stare at the englishman.  “What? No applause for this stunning creature?” I wanted to be flattered by his strange way of flirting, but instead I felt like regurgitating.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Stuart walking out of the room, shaking his head.  It would’ve broken my heart, if it wasn’t already shattered

“Why do I get a promotion?” I asked quietly, and Gharam grinned widely down towards me.

“Because you, my dear, would be a lovely head of the Communications department” My eyes widened like a cartoon, and my voice caught in my throat.  How? My work has been average.

“I-I think you’re at the wrong-”

“Oh don’t be so modest, we can discuss the paperwork over dinner” Gharam smirked and winked, and I took a step away from him, huffing angrily.

“But I like working here!” I stated loudly, and angrily.  My hands were in fists by my sides.  “I like my group, I like my job I like my payroll, I don’t want a promotion” The man laughed loudly, holding his hands over his stomach like it was the most comical thing he’d ever heard anyone say.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous darling” He said, reaching a finger to swipe his thumb over my cheek.  I smacked his hand away with a slap that seemed to silence the room even more.  I didn’t notice that this was when Stuart came back into the room, I was too focused on the man in front of me.

“I’m not taking a job just so you can go out with me” I snapped at him, and moved to walk back towards my work space, but he followed me quickly.

“Problem? Gharam?” I spun back on my heel in shock of the voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like years.  Stuart Twombly was standing in front of me, his back towards me and Gharam trying to tower over him.  In seconds I watched as Gharam backed away, shaking his head and standing silently frozen.  “Come on y/n” Before I could say anything, Stuart took my hand pulled me with him out the door of our large office flat.  I walked quietly beside him, my hand still stuck in his as he led me through the hallways.  I looked over at him, but he kept his focus on his walking.  Dead ahead.  He was on a mission it seemed.

“Stuart?” I spoke, my voice practically a mumble as we neared the exit of the building. 

“Where have you been?” He asked as he pushed open the doors, with me still following right next to him.  It was the first time his hand released mine.

“I haven’t been anywhere” I muttered, my eyes narrowing slightly at his apparent anger.  “What, you’re mad at me because I haven’t been around?” He ducked his head down, instantly realizing his mistake.  “Wow.  Wow Stuart” I laughed bitterly, a passive aggressive grin on my face as I looked up.  My palm pressed to my forehead as I calmed down my laughter.  “If you don’t mind, I have work to get to” I said, turning to go back inside. 

“N-no don’t leave” He quickly ran in front of me, hands out and a pleading expression on his face.  “Please don’t just go” 

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I miss you y/n!” He yelled exasperatedly, and my mouth hung open in shock.  “I really fucking miss you” His voice softened, and I blinked, licking my lips before closing my mouth. 

“I missed you too” I said weakly. 

“And I do remember that night, I remember it vividly, every goddamn second of it” I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes off of him. 

“Y-you did? Then why did you-”

“Cause I didn’t want to say the wrong thing… guess I did anyways” I frowned slightly, stepping a little closer to him. 

“What did you think that you were going to say that would make me upset?”

“Upset’s not really the word… more like.. More like distant.  I thought you’d be distant and I didn’t want to lose you or anyth-”

“What were you going to say?” I cut off his ramblings, stepping closer again, if I took one more step, then our noses would ‘bump together. 

“I was going to tell you that..” He trailed off for a moment, looking down at his feet.  “That um.. That I…” My eyebrows raised in anticipation.  “y/n I really like you, I don’t know how you did it but you got me to fall for you in a matter of one night and I swear it wasn’t cause we were both drunk off our ass it was because you’re the first person I’ve ever met that’s… that’s real you felt real to me and I- I wanted to tell you that and I almost did but I didn’t want to mess things up-”

“You would’ve messed everything up” I told him. 

“I know” He said quietly.

“Absolutely everything, you would’ve ruined everything” I heard him sniffle, and he still stared down at his feet.  I chuckled quietly, and curled my fingers under his jaw, bringing his face up to look at me, even though he was practically above me.  “But it would’ve been in the best way possible” I told him solemnly.  I watched his eyes light up, and I smiled softly.  Next thing I knew he leaned down, and gently pressed his lips against mine.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled between sweet kisses.  “I shouldn’t have lied around it I should’ve just told you” I opened my eyes as his arms wrapped around my back, tugging me against him in a tight hug.  I smiled, arms winding around his neck and holding myself there against him.

“Try not to ‘forget’ that kiss, okay?” Stuart chuckled against me.

“I’m not sure how I could”


guys i can’t tell you how happy i am to post again :)
xoxo ~ joride

A Class Act: Epilogue

A high school teacher AU. 

Chapter Summary: Two years later…

Now complete, full chapter list here. 

Also on AO3. 

Acknowledgements at the end. 


Seven o’clock was still a ways off, but the blue light outside was already turning gold as Cullen drank his coffee and read the news on his tablet. He hadn’t slept well the night before, but that was to be expected ahead of the first day of school. It didn’t matter that this was his seventh first day of school as a teacher, he was always just as excited, just as nervous as if it was his first.

Argos, their overgrown puppy of a mabari, was sulking. He seemed to have figured out that summer had ended and that meant that Cullen and Mara wouldn’t be home during the days. Argos’s head was currently in Cullen’s lap, and Cullen was rubbing his head. They’d gotten Argos the previous summer, so it certainly wasn’t the first school year he’d been through, but the mabari was doing a good job of making Cullen feel guilty about it.

“Maybe if you didn’t jump on Leliana every time we see her, she’d let us bring you to school,” Cullen said, glancing down at the mabari. Argos responded with a pitiful whine.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

He sings 'this was all we used to need'. It's so domestic. At home, in the dark, in bed, that's where they can be themselves. Just Harry & Louis. He thinks back to midnight snacks, them getting up cause they're so hungry, Harry making them a sandwich and the kitchen is dark except for the fridge light and the starts outside and they just talk and cuddle right there. Or he wakes up in the middle of the night & the moonlight shines on Louis & he can't believe he's so lucky and just feels so safe.

It’s so intimate and private, I almost feel like I am intruding whenever I hear those lyrics. Such beautiful words.

im about 2 lose my shit yall i went to bed at 5am so i was gonna let myself sleep in a lil and get up at 11am but then i looked at my clock when i had woke up and saw 7:30 so i went into that lil panic attack™ and fell back asleep bc thats just. i guess my reaction when i go into autopilot mode is to just give up and fall back asleep. so i woke up at 9 again like “fuckkkkkk i’m in big trouble now” and i sit down to get my work done and i look and its goddamn. 9am. idk why the fact that its light outside wasnt a dead giveaway

2

new haircut and an alya pep talk <3

To my Valentine, I love you.
—  I shouldn’t start a love letter with an apology, but I think you’ll come to find it sincere. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the first person to kiss you, the first time someone kissed my lips I understood that to love is to be in pain– but my sister had to explain that love shouldn’t hurt, it should be painless. The light breeze while you’re outside exploring the city during spring kind of feeling. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the first person to hold you, the first person to hold my hands said that I shouldn’t regret anything or anyone because in this moment? This very second… you wanted it with every part of your being. It doesn’t matter in the end, the only thing that matters is the journey. The road that led you to me will ultimately lead you back to yourself. I’m sorry that I won’t be the first person to make you feel love. The ocean is a heart and I’ve been building a sandcastle that’s tall enough to seek you out. I’m sorry that I won’t be the one you’ll show off to your mother. I’m sorry that you’ll think about me when sleep is close to impossible. Valentine’s Day no longer holds value to me. I’ve been doing some thinking lately about who I am as a writer and what it means to say I love you. To love someone enough to let them go. To love someone enough to tell them to grow without you. To love someone enough that you’re willing to explain the reasons as to why it won’t work just yet. To love yourself enough to come to terms with it. One day someone’s going to treat you better than I ever will. One day someone’s going to ask you to marry him. One day someone’s going to have your smile. One day someone’s going to leave you love letters near the kitchen sink. One day someone’s going to pretend to spoon feed you during dinner and pull you in for a kiss. One day someone’s going to write poems for you and mean it when he says I want you to be mine forever. One day someone’s going to be right beside you. He’ll be right there. By your side, as the sun hits your curtains and you’re struggling to get out of bed– he’ll swing those curtains open and jump scare you. He’s going to sing for you while you’re in the shower. He’ll hold you while you’re having nightmares. He’ll reason with you intellectually if you’re ever in a dispute about art and poetry. He’ll walk you down that aisle and never think twice. He won’t do drugs and he’ll be healthy. He won’t smoke cigarettes and he won’t be perfect, but my god, he’ll make you forget about me. You’re stubborn and hard headed, you’re just like me. You’re smart and colorful down to the bristles of your soul. As an artist and a writer, we are compelled to chase after a love story fitting to declare war upon ourselves. You’re going to paint his life like how I’ve done for you. He’s going to squeeze your palms and ask for a dance. He’s going to hold your hips and ask for a walk. The moon will be out and you’ll enjoy your night. Love screams from a multidimensional place– I’ve seen seen love crash and burn. I’ve seen love destroy and rebuild. I’ve seen love light enough to blind us from ever seeing the truth. I’ve seen a love that’s frightening. I’ve seen terror within the night– you’re only sober if it feels right. I’ve seen who I am and I’m still lost. Some words cost us an eternity of apologies. Some feelings never leave us, even if the people do. You’re more than what I can ask for, you’re more than you know. We’ve been down this road before. Some day we’ll forget about who we are today, some day we’ll change forever. Some day you’ll understand the why, some day you’ll find the who, some day he’ll bring you to the where, some day he’ll show you what’s in his heart, and you’ll realize about the how. I’m still searching for myself– I’m falling deeper into a sea that isn’t designed for swimming. I’m stuck in a place that only has room for one person. Do you ever feel like there’s something wrong with the way that we are? Something’s always missing in the daily routine, there’s something broken inside of my head. Love letters sprinkled with heartfelt laughter– I wish I could give you that. I only want the best for you even if that person isn’t me.

Horror in Room 1046 

Just after lunch time on 2 January, 1935, a young man entered the Hotel President in Kansas City, Missouri. He had no luggage and asked if he could have a room for the night. He signed his name as “Roland T. Owen” was given the key for room 1046. Shortly afterwards, the maid arrived to clean the room. As she opened the door, she found the man sitting on the bed in the dark. Even though it was still light outside, he had tightly drawn the blind. She recalled that the man seemed somewhat afraid or nervous. As she was cleaning, he put on his coat and left the room, asking her to leave the door unlocked because he was expecting a friend to arrive later on. At approximately 4PM, the maid arrived at room 1046 to leave fresh towels for the evening. The man was lying on the bed with a note beside him which read: “Don, I will be back in fifteen minutes. Wait.

The following morning, the maid arrived once again to clean the room. Once again, she found the man sitting in the dark. As she cleaned around him, he took a call from “Don” and told him he wasn’t going to get any breakfast. Before she left, he began to question her about her role within the hotel and what duties she was to carry out. When she returned later on in the afternoon with more fresh towels, an unidentified male grunted that they didn’t need any. Later on in the afternoon, another guest reported hearing a woman’s voice coming from room 1046 and relayed that she sounded angry. At around 11pm that night, a man driving downtown saw a man running down the street in pants and a shirt - strange clothing choice for the brisk winter air, he though. The man asked the driver, who he initially mistook as a taxi driver, if he could give them a lift to somewhere that he could flag down a taxi. He noted that the oddly dressed man had a large wound on his arm and looked in a bad shape.

Back at the Hotel President the next morning, it was noticed that the phone in room 1046 was left off the hook. A bellboy was sent up to inform the guest. When nobody answered, he used a master key to enter the room. At first glance, he saw blood smeared over the walls and over the floor. In the bathroom, “Roland T. Owen” was on his knees with rope tied around his neck and wrists. He had been repeatedly stabbed and bludgeoned across the head. Still clinging to life, he said he had “fell against the bathtub.” He died later on that night. An investigation of the room turned up nothing. Not one piece of clothing could be found nor any complimentary hygiene products or towels. It was soon discovered that the man had given a fake name, thus his body was displayed at a local funeral home in the hopes that somebody could recognise him. The man who had picked up the bewildered hitchhiker the night before recognised him immediately. Multiple people from separate establishments, including other hotels and even a wrestling arena, came forward to identify him. However, each person that identified him said that he gave a different name.

As the weeks passed, the man remained unidentified, even though many could identify him by appearance. He was intended to be buried in the city’s cemetery for the unidentified but as locals caught wind of this, police received an anonymous letter from somebody who asked them to hold the burial off until they would be able to forward a hefty amount for a decent burial and funeral. Days later, the money came in and he was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery. A local florist also received an anonymous donation for a bouquet of flowers that were signed off with “Love Forever - Louise.” Other than a couple of investigators working on the case, nobody attended the funeral. 

The case remained cold until 1936, when Eleanor Ogletree read about the murder in a magazine. She believed the description of the man sounded like her brother, 17-year-old Artemus Ogletree, who had been missing since 1934. The family had assumed he was okay because in spring of 1935 - months after “Roland T. Owen” died - they had received several typewritten letters from Artemus, claiming he was sailing to Europe. The family were initially suspicious of these letters because Artemus couldn’t type. A few months after these letters, they received a phone call from a man who told them that Artemus had saved his life in Egypt and that he was happily married to a woman he had met in his travels.

The Ogletree family were shown a photo of the murder victim. It was Artemus, they unfortunately confirmed. His identification led to even more questions. Why had he used so many fake names? Who was the woman in his room? Who was Don? What happened to him the evening he was picked up by the driver, looking dishevelled? Who paid for his funeral? Who was Louise? Who sent the letters to his family? And finally, who killed him and why?

there is something so
deeply rooted in my soul coming to life
when I am sitting on your lap
in this old wooden chair
in the corner of my bedroom

with the blue handmade blanket
wrapped around both of our shoulders,
ripping at the already busted seams
just to fit us inside of it.
but it doesn’t mind
(no, it wouldn’t at all)

a space heater at our knees.
the light outside the drafty windows
not yet dimming.
a bottle of whiskey in my hand
then in yours

warmth of the winter
is alive here when we shrink
only to be close like this,
not you on the other side of the room
with your guitar,
with your cigarette.
me in the bedroom,
in the kitchen,
standing two feet away from you.
not on the bed together but

like this.

give me the loud punk shows
that I can’t even hear
because I am thinking about
how your body feels
when it is standing next to mine,
how alive the space between us must be

or give me the cold
morning light that comes before sunrise
and my mouth that tastes like yours.
give me the wide awake
give me the hazy
give me the walking in a daydream.

I will buy lilies for my bedroom
every week until you go.
please don’t go.
—  Emery Allen
Seeking Paintings | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You, a muggle-born artist, have been hiding your feelings for Draco Malfoy for years now. Though, after an unplanned meeting in the astronomy tower things between the two of you start to change. Even more so after finding each other in the Room or Requirement.

Word Count: 3,573

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: not my gif credit to owner


You stare out into the vast horizon from the astronomy tower. This was your favorite hideout during your free period. You much rather enjoyed the view when it was light outside. Sure you love astronomy class and looking up at the stars but this was just different. Better.

You pulled out your old, hard-cover, weather-beaten sketch book and began to draw the landscape before you. You made sure to grasp and add every detail to your drawing. You began shading in the sunset when you heard a voice behind you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a rotten tone and you already knew who it was.

“You don’t own the astronomy tower, Draco,” you say blandly while continuing your work.

“You know this is were I go in my spare time,” you hear him huff.

“I know,” you blush, hoping he doesn’t know that besides the view one of your favorite part of this spot is that it’s that it’s his spot too. Then again, how would he even know that, it’s not like you two are exactly close.

You hear him start to walk away and your heart sinks. Just once you’d like him to stay up here when you’re here. Maybe then, you too could become close. You’d had this battle with having a crush on Draco since first year. Now here you are, sixth year and the most interaction between you two is fighting over the astronomy tower.

“You know you can stay right?” You boldly say. You swallow hard when you hear him stop in his tracks.

You hear his footsteps begin again but this time coming back towards you.

He sits a few feet from you, “Just don’t expect me to talk to you.”

You just smile and shake your head continuing to look down at your sketch book. For a few minutes you two stay like this, you drawing, him (probably) thinking. You wonder what could be going on in his head, he seemed to be thinking pretty deeply.

You feel him inching towards you at a snail’s pace, from the corner of your eye you can see him watching you draw everything from here to the horizon. You hate yourself for the blush creeping up on your face, by the time he’s within a foot of you your face is bright red.

“Why are you blushing?” You look up at him and see he’s smiling, a genuine smile.

Because I’ve been hiding my massive crush on you for nearly six years.

“I just get embarrassed at people watching me work,” you shrug.

“Why?” He asks seeming genuinely interested. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you’re blush gets even deeper.

You break eye contact and look back down at your sketchbook. The rest of the period is made up with you finishing your sketch and Draco watching intently. He’s completely mesmerized at how you can just see an image and recreate it perfectly on your page.


It’s Saturday and you aren’t needed nor expected anywhere, which is why Saturdays are your favorite days. You usually spent these days roaming around looking for inspiration for a new art piece. Which is exactly how you plan to start today.

You roam the school grounds aimlessly, constantly moving your head around to grasp every aspect of the school. You step into the one of the many courtyards and feel inspired to sketch it, until you realize you’ve already done that… Ten times…

You sigh and realize that after six years of constantly working in the same space it’s going to be hard to find a completely new area for your art. Just this year and the following before you can finally start travelling and finding more inspiration worldwide.

In your attempts to find a new spot you’re again not looking forward. causing you to slam right into someone.

“Hey, watch where- oh, hey Y/N,” you hear Draco’s voice quickly turn from intimidation to delight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you ramble.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs at how cute he thinks you are when you ramble.

A blush creeps onto your face, “Well, I best be going.” As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him.

“Hey, are you going to the Quidditch match today?” He inquires.

“Um I wasn’t really planning on it,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“Oh,” his face slightly falls. “Well, I’d like it if you went,” he says his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Even though you’d be rooting for Y/H and not Slytherin,” he looks at the ground.

“I mean I probably should go, it's sixth year and I haven’t gone to a single match,” you shrug and he looks at you dumbfounded.

“Not a single match? Well, you definitely have to go now,” he laughs and so do you.

“Well, I guess you can count on me being there,” you say before turning and walking away. You look over your shoulder, “And I guess I can root for Slytherin just this once,” you wink and quickly face forward as your face turns crimson red. A crazy amount of adrenaline must’ve been rushing through you for having the courage to wink at Draco Malfoy.


You take a seat in Y/H’s section for the Quidditch match, all your housemates do a double take when they see you arrive. Which were followed by ‘finally’, 'it’s about time’, 'I didn’t even know you knew how to get here’ and more sayings around those lines.

You don’t know to much about Quidditch, especially since you’re a muggle-born. Not that you know much about muggle sports either. Your friends have explained the game to you many times, you got the logistics but you just didn’t know why it was such a big deal. Maybe you’ll actually figure it out through watching a match.


Draco rose up into the air on his broomstick to prepare for the start of the game. On his way up he scanned the crowd for you and a smile creeps onto his face when he sees you sitting in Y/H’s section. He can tell you look slightly out of place in the stands and is glad to see you actually showed up. He keeps up the hope that you’re actually here for him.

He has been trying to convince himself since second year that he doesn’t have feelings for you. That he could never have feelings for a muggle-born. Except as he’s grown older through his school years he’s realized that muggle-borns aren’t that bad. He’s realized he was just told to think that way, not that he actually believed it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the blow of the whistle signaling the beginning of the game. Slytherin immediately takes hold of the Quaffle and manages to score within the first minute. A chorus of boos and angered shouts comes from Y/H’s section. Draco looks over to see you remaining silent among your peers. He smiles, hoping you may be rooting for Slytherin…for him…silently. Even if you’re not, at least you aren’t booing.

Draco circles around the field, scanning for the snitch. He’d be lying to say that he wasn’t losing his interest in Quidditch, squinting into the distance searching for a flying ball of gold gets boring after awhile. Of course, he didn’t know if the sport itself was actually starting to bore him or the stress recently rested upon him was making him lose interest in the things he loves. Apparently stress can do that. 

He sees a flicker of gold in the distance, shocked at how early on he’s spotted it he doesn’t fully believe he saw it. That is until he sees the seeker for Y/H dive in the direction of the flash of gold. He quickly follows and the two chase after the golden blur, neck and neck. Draco shoves the other seeker, causing him to spin off course and leaving Draco to be the only one in pursuit of the snitch.

He’s extremely close, he takes a hand off his broom and reaches towards the snitch. He feels cold metal on the pads of his fingers, he just needs to get a grip around it. Almost…

Wham!

He’s nearly knocked off his broom as pain seers through his ribcage. He got hit with a bludger milliseconds before he could grab the snitch. He holds a hand over his ribcage and groans in pain. He rises back into the air to find he’s near Y/H’s section. He looks over at you and you mouth to him, 'Are you okay?’. He nods and manages to give you a faint smile as reassurance.

When he starts to move upward he hears many whispers, “Did Draco Malfoy the Draco Malfoy just smile?”, “Did he smile at you, Y/N?”, “Is there something going on between you two?”, and things of that nature.

He looks back in your direction to see your cheeks turning pink while multiple people start to question you. Though more importantly he sees a smile on your face at the thought of people thinking something is going on between the two of you.

Suddenly, his interest for Quidditch returns. Except rather than loving the sport, wanting to be the best, and move towards winning the House Championships, his goal and motivation to win comes from you. He wants to impress you, and suddenly he finds himself squinting at the field and scanning it as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes pass with no sign of the snitch. Y/H is currently in the lead, sixty-twenty. Draco continues to scan the field, keeping an eye on the other seeker to see if they look to be in pursuit. He finds himself glancing over at you often as well, trying to make sure you aren’t growing bored. Good thing he’s doing this because it is when he shifts his eyes to you that he spots the snitch once again.

This time determined to get he speeds off in the directions of the flicker of gold. He soon gets close enough that the snitch is hardly a blur anymore. He stretches out his arm when he feels someone bump his side, not strong enough to knock him off his path though. It’s Y/H’s seeker, Draco gives them a menacing stare before turning his eyes back to the snitch. The two race around the field with their arms reaching towards the snitch, they’re neck and neck. Draco, determined to win, jerks his hand out so roughly he fears he might’ve dislocated his shoulder. It would be worth it though, he feels his hand close around the snitch.

He slows down and waves the snitch above his head, wearing a proud smile. The rest of the Slytherin team flies over to congratulate him. He hardly notices their presence as he starts to look for you, to see your reaction. His smile fell, you weren’t in the spot you had previously been in. You weren’t anywhere to be seen.

A look of disappointment washes over Draco’s face as he moves back to the ground. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you just not care enough to stay? Did you leave because Slytherin won? Was it foolish of him to think you were here for him? He was disappointed that he ever let that thought into his head.


The rest of the Slytherins were celebrating in their common room, but Draco was in no mood for a party. Though every time he tried to move towards the dorms one of his friends would pull him back to the center of the crowd.

“Dude, what up with you,” Blaise leans onto Draco. “You know you can’t vanish from a party after a win.”

Vanish.

He hadn’t been to the room of requirement in ages. If he was already disappointed with himself he might as well make it even worse by working on that cabinet.

“I actually have to go do something,” Draco mutters before peeling away from the crowd, this time being successful.

He begins the journey from the dungeons all the way to the seventh floor, left corridor. Constantly, he finds himself dodging behind corners at the sight or sound of a teacher. When he makes it to the entrance of the Room of Requirement unscathed he begins to pace and think deeply about what he needs.

I really need to work on this cabinet. If I don’t fix it in time I’ll probably get myself and my family killed. To work on this cabinet though I’m really going to need some privacy. No one else should be able to go in or out. I really just need to be alone, even though I’d rather be talking to Y/N, figuring out why she left the natch early… But I really need to go work on this cabinet in private.

He thinks to himself, allowing him access to the room. He steps inside and begins to make his way to the vanishing cabinet. He examines a feather from the last time when he used that cabinet on a small bird. He begins to realize it’s spending days on end staring at this cabinet that he truly begins to hate what he’s become. He knows he had no choice, it makes him hate all those who did. All who didn’t have people pressuring him to be evil. To kill or be killed. It makes him hate all those who had good people in his life.

He just wanted one good person in his life, he needed one good person in his life.

Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a crash from somewhere in the room, faint whispering follows. Someone else is in here.

He draws his wand from his pocket, becoming extremely alert. He swallows hard, the last thing he needs is to be caught in here. He slowly moves towards the sound of the crash, pashing piles and piles of randomized objects. The faint whisper becomes a distinct mutter, a girl’s mutter.

He jumps out from behind the last pile of things before him and the unknown girl and raises his wand. However, he immediately lowers it at the sight before him.

“Y/N?” He questions putting his wand back in his pocket.

You look up at him and gulp. You are kneeling on the ground in front of a puddle of spilt paint to the side of a canvas. Your face turning a bright red to match the paint covering the floor.

“Draco,” you say wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he tuts.

“Well, I needed a canvas and some oils,” you shrug. “So, I went to the room that would supply me with my needs.

"Well, I needed privacy as in no one else being in here,” he says coming off more hostile than he wants to be towards you.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re actually needs are,” you look down at the ground, saddened at his hostility towards you. Just when you were beginning to think he could actually like you, how silly.

He remembers what he was just thinking about. Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life? “Maybe you’re right,” he admits.

You look up at him and try to suppress any thoughts of him needing you from your head. You look back down at your paint puddle and go back to cleaning.

“You know there’s this thing called magic,” he chuckles before pulling out his wand. After giving it a little flick all the paint moves back into the container.

You tut before letting out a muffled thanks and standing back up. A slight frown forms on your face as you dip your paintbrush into your now unspilt paint and get back to working on your canvas.

“I thought you’d be a little more thankful,” Draco raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t like to mix magic and art,” you huff.

“How come?” he presses on, sounding as though he genuinely cares.

You sigh, not sure if you’re completely comfortable about divulging your childhood to Draco, your muggle childhood. If you even wanted to dream about having a chance with him you figured it wouldn’t be best to remind him you’re muggle-born. However, he’s expecting an answer and you only have the truth.

“It just when I was younger I was told I had a gift when it came to art,” you sigh. “They said my art made my talent seem like magic,” you smile at the memories. “I guess I wanted to keep it all down to talent not literal magic,” you shrug,

“Oh,” is all he has to say. “Well, can I see what you’re painting?”

At that you freeze, brush in midair dripping paint onto the ground. You swallow hard and your face becomes a deeper red than Draco, or anyone has ever seen you as. You slowly turn your near paralyzed head to look at him wide-eyed, You do not even want to imagine Draco’s reaction to your current work, yet alone see or hear it in reality.

He chuckles, “I’ll take that as a no.” You slightly nod and turn back to your work. “If I can’t look at it can you at least tell me what it is?” Your face is burning at this point, it feels so hot you fear you may need to go down to the hospital wing.

He appears next to you and you nearly choke on the lump forming in your throat. You set your brush down and timidly turn your head to look at him. You get a side view of his head, slightly tilted with a flattered expression resting on his face.

“Is that me?” He smiles brightly and you swallow hard.

“Is that weird?” You timidly ask.

He turns his head to look down at you, a smile still plastered on his face. “Not at all.”

He looks back to examine the painting even deeper as you rock on your heels as an anxious tick. The painting is a site you captured in your head at the match. Draco with his hand outstretched towards a golden blur, you seeker right at his heels. You painted the world around them as a fuzzy haze to show they were moving at top speeds. In the background one could distinguish the field, goalposts, stadium full of students, as well as the other players flying about.

“Is this why you left the match early?”

“Yeah, I just got the idea and rushed here to go and paint it,” you shrug. Then, you fully process what he just said. “You noticed I left?” Your eyebrows knit together and you move your gaze to him.

“Of course,” he says looking at you. “I did it for you,” he states. “I woke up this morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go looking for a golden blur. Then, I remembered you said I could count on you being there and I knew I had to play.” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, so Draco continues. “I was planning on inviting you to the after party as my date but you weren’t there,” he shrugs. He’s trying to play it cool but truly he heart is beating a mile a minute. He was not intended to profess his love for you but before he could stop himself the words were slipping from his mouth.

“D-date?”

“Yeah, is it so weird for me to take the girl I’ve liked since second year to be my date?” There’s no going back now. It’s out, the secret is out. Draco Malfoy has feelings for Y/N Y/L/N.

He waits for you to say something, anything. He heart is racing and his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes you’ll say you feel the same but you just stay silent.

Your mouth hangs agape, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You’ve liked me since second year?”

“Is that weird?” He timidly asks as you did previously.

“N-not at all,” you smile wider than ever, your face only turning slightly pink. “I mean I’ve liked you since first year.” You see his eyes light up at that, he looks as if this is exactly what he needs to hear.

You two stay silent for a moment, gazing into each others eyes. Both of you wondering what to do next. His eyes slowly move down to your lips, linger for a second, then dart back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out so quietly you barely hear.

You nod and try to suppress the butterflies in your stomach. He takes a step closer to you and lightly grips your elbows. He pulls you close and stares deep into your eyes. He starts to lean in as do you, both closing your eyes. His lips gently connect to yours. He softly moves his lips against yours, his hands moving down to your waist as yours get tangled in his hair. Neither of you pull away until you both are gasping for air.

“So did you win?” You giggle once you’ve caught your breath.

“I have now.”

Request: Storm

Request: Can you write one where the reader breaks down to Bobby because she is pregnant with Dean’s baby. Thank you :)

Word Count: 1,069

<3

The rain has been coming down in buckets all night, and the wind whips at the sides of the house in such a way that every now and again, the foundations shake so severely that Bobby nearly ends up waiting out the storm in the panic room.

When he sees the flash of light outside the window followed by a rumble, he isn’t paying enough attention to think of it as anything but another facet of the storm. What he does pay attention to, however, is the frantic, loud knocking that reverberates well beyond the door.

The knocking doesn’t stop until he answers, pulling the door open to be bet with a harsh gust of wind.

“Y/N?” You’re soaked and dishevelled, and he isn’t sure which has smeared your makeup more – the rain, or the tears you’re trying and failing to hold back.

“Can- can I come in?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing your fuzzy, addled brain can come up with. Bobby doesn’t speak, but he nods, ushering you into the warmth of the house where you grew up and forcing the door closed against the wind.

“What the hell are you doing out in this?” Driving in this weather would be dangerous enough without you being in a complete state. You don’t reply, though, shivering in the hallway and wiping at your face in frustration. It scares him – you’re the closest thing he has to family: he’d raised you since you were six months old and your parents had been killed, leaving no-one to keep an eye on their demon-blood infected child. He’d taken you in, and found that he’d quickly become all too fond of you.

“Y/N, seriously. Where are Sam and Dean?” It must be something to do with them, because it elicits a sob from you, “I don’t want to play twenty questions with you.” He steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders and pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead, “Give yourself some time, alright? Go get a shower, get changed. Everything’s fine. Nothing is going to hurt you while you’re here. I’ll make you a hot chocolate while you’re gone, just how you like it. How does that sound?”

To his eternal relief, that manages to get a nod and a weak smile from you, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before letting you go. He doesn’t look away from you until you’re safely up the stairs, and then sighs to himself – he’s never seen you like this. But you need him, and he’ll be damned if you’re not going to have him to go to.

***

It’s nearly half an hour before he hears you coming down the stairs, but there’s nothing wrong with that – especially when he sees how much better you’re looking. Sure, your eyes are still red-rimmed and you’re still shaking with the effort it takes not to cry, but at least your clothes are warm and dry and your lips are no longer bluish with the cold.

You shuffle into the room and take a seat, swallowing hard before looking up at Bobby. He sets the hot chocolate – piled high with cream, chocolate shavings, and marshmallows – in front of you, and then takes the seat next to yours. The storm outside still batters the windows, but the kitchen is warm, and with the pair of you bathed in warm light, it’s almost cosy.

“Talk to me.” Bobby prompts softly, reaching over and resting his hand over the top of yours. He sees the way you flinch at the gesture, and for a moment he thinks the worst, “Is it Dean? Has he hurt you?” He hadn’t been overly happy when you’d begun dating the eldest Winchester two and a half years ago, but you’d been happy, and Dean had given him a heartfelt promise that his intentions were pure – but Bobby had promised in return that the moment Dean so much as breathed the wrong way at you, he’d find himself without the means to do so again.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me if you want to fix this.”

“I can’t fix it.” You speak properly for the first time since you stepped into the house, “It’s broken. Very broken.”

“Still with the ambiguous, sweetheart.”

It takes you a few moments to muster up the courage to come out with it, but eventually, you do.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence, apart from the sounds of the storm outside, fills the room. For a long moment, he can’t find it in himself to speak – and then…

“Do not drink that.” He wraps his spare hand around the mug and slides it away from you, reminded suddenly of the copious amount of whiskey he just dropped into that, “Is it… it’s Dean’s?”

You scoff, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Of course it is.” Sorrow and bitterness taint your tone in equal measure, and Bobby winces.

“Have you told him?” He tries, and you nod again.

“Yeah. That’s what the second problem is.” You sigh, pulling your hand away from his in order to run your hands over your face, skilfully masking a sob – but not enough. Bobby knows you inside and out, and picks up on it instantly.

“He reacted badly?”

“If saying I’d ruined everything and needed to get the hell out of his sight is reacting badly, then I’d say so, yeah.” You spit, but your voice breaks and before you know it, your head is on his shoulder and you’re sobbing openly into him, everything coming out. He holds onto you tightly, a silent promise that he’ll never let you go; that you always have him.

***

It’s nearly three hours later, by the time he’s managed to calm you down and get you asleep. You’re still asleep on the sofa when his phone rings. He answers, begrudgingly, when he realises who it is.

“Dean?”

“Bobby? Have you heard from Y/N? She’s gone and we’ve been trying to track her all night, but we haven’t found anything.” He rattles off, his voice frantic and shaking.

“Why? What happened?” Bobby asks, watching you sleeping form.

“We got in a fight. I said something stupid. God, Bobby, I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, and swallows hard, “Have you heard from her?”

He pauses, “Nope. Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Night Moves (Part 1)

Originally posted by rocksaroundthesuns

Summary: The reader hooks up with a guy she meets at a bar one night after she gets to the town where her childhood friend, Jess, is getting married in a few days time, leading to some unintended consequences…

Pairing: au!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, smut

A/N: Hope you enjoy part 1!…


Keep reading

New Light: Part 1

(( OOC: Angelina Johnson and Text/Script by: @wallyscags-patronus​ )) 

George: *sits in the empty shop, tinkering with a strange looking object* 

*the bell rings as someone enters the shop* 

Angelina: *stares at George, surprised to see him back at work already* 

Angelina: *teases lightly* Very professional. 

Angelina: I might get the impression you were happy to see me.

Angelina: *quietly* That makes two of us.

Keep reading