owl plate

Please? Part Ten

This takes place around season 2, episode 5 when Daryl is taken down by his own arrow. He’s rushed to Hershel, needing help taking the arrow out of his side, but you aren’t able to see Daryl in this shape. Not until he calls for you, begging you to stay by his side.

(A/N; this was originally going to be the end of this story, but a lot of you seem to really like it. Shall I continue into season 3 or keep a season 2 thing?)

  1. Please?
  2. Please?
  3. Please?
  4. Please?
  5. Please?
  6. Please?
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  8. Please?
  9. Please?
  • Daryl Dixon x Reader
  • 1800 words
  • Warnings: Language

Nights were freezing. Multiple times, you thought you may lose somebody to the cold. Daryl and Rick, they tried to keep everyone safe and warm, tried to find houses you could all sleep in, nice and comfy. Sometimes that just wasn’t possible and you were left sleeping in a car or in the middle of the trees with someone always keeping watch.

Daryl was getting worried about you, everyone was worried about Lori. Week by week, she got bigger and noticeably more pregnant. Rick stepped up his game, making sure Lori came before anyone else, which pissed a few people off, including Daryl and Hershel. Daryl wanted no one before you, but he wasn’t in charge.

Daryl taught you how to use a gun during hunts, though he refused to let you use it unless absolutely necessary.

You were asked to stay behind, take care of Beth, Lori, Hershel, and Carol. Not that you minded, but the few minutes you were always without Daryl were the hardest.


“Can’t stay here.” Daryl murmurs as he looks out the window. Walkers are lining up outside, seemingly knowing there is fresh flesh inside the house. It was the only decent one Rick and T-Dog found.

“Just to rest for a little while.” You walk over to him and run your fingers down his arm. None of you have had a decent shower in a long time, the dirt was starting to become a part of you. “We’re tired. And we have a pregnant woman.”

“Ain’t safe.” Daryl turns around and looks down at you. His hair is sticking up in different places and his face is covered in so much dirt, he hardly looks like himself. “S’pecially with her.”

You rub your forehead and stare out the window, watching each walker carefully. It’s still unclear how much sense they have, but nobody wants to find out. “Babe, we can’t just leave.”

Daryl hesitates at the nickname, it being the first time you have called him anything but his real name. He looks down at you, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red in the spots that were dirt free. “We can too.” With his hands on his hips, he walks around you and goes downstairs, where everyone is sitting down in the living room, huddled together by a small fire Glenn started.

You soon follow, not wanting to be alone. To say things are better is a lie. Daryl may finally have given in to his feelings, but things with the rest of them were not so great. It’s stressful packing up and leaving every time a single walker comes around, stressful to haul around an unborn baby and keep check that everyone was close by. You would be lying to yourself if you say you haven’t thought about leaving with Daryl, leaving the others to care for each other.


“We found a place.” Rick and Daryl pop through the trees. They went hunting an hour ago and left everyone sitting in the middle of the road. “We found a place just down those train tracks. We can gather there for a little while.”

Daryl walks by Rick and stands in front of you. You took your place by his bike, sitting on the ground to guard it. He looks down at you, shielding the sun from his eyes. “Got us a place.” He nods.

“So I hear.” You return his gaze, watching the sweat rolling down his forehead and nose. “Are you sure this isn’t another bust?”

“Hope not.” He thrusts out his hand and motions for you to take it. “We need a break.”

Agreeing, you slip your hand through his and he basically pulls you up without any help from you. He was strong like that, though he was very careful with you. There are times where he can’t control his own strength around you, but he always makes up for it.

Rick and Daryl lead the way, through the trees and walking down the tracks. Soon, a large fence is in your view, with a building just behind it. A prison. With thick fences separating it and the rest of the world, a safe place from walkers.

“Here?” You ask Daryl, picking up your pace to keep beside him. He nods. “Why?”

“Big. Safe. Guarded.” He shrugs his shoulders and runs to keep up with Rick.

It didn’t take long to take over the prison. You ran down with Beth, Maggie, and Glenn to distract the walkers while Rick ran to close the gate, and the others went above on the towers to help Rick out. Working as a team wasn’t so hard anymore, you all know your roles, for the most part.

All these months together, you have learned a thing or two. Who is a good shot, who should never hold a gun, and who was fastest. Your role, however, has still not been determined. It’s like they can’t decide if you ought to hold a gun or a weapon at all.


Night grows quickly. T-Dog starts a fire to keep you warm on the chilly night. Days were warming up, but the nights were still brutal. Daryl takes the first watch, though Rick insisted he would. Daryl thought he needed time with his family.

You stay back, sitting around the campfire with Beth and reminiscing on the good ole times of camping by the lake, in the middle of the woods, on a very crisp autumn evening. Those were the days to live for.

With the little food the group has, you all take turns eating. Rationing is probably the hardest part. Stomachs go hungry, growling for days until it was your turn to eat just a little more than the rest of the group.

“Daryl!” You call, waving him over. He pauses from his patrol and glances over at you, his face straight and his grip tight on his crossbow. “Come eat.”

“Naw.” He shakes his head and goes back to his pacing in front of the fence.

You get to your feet, leaving Beth to talk with Lori. You make your way over to the truck Daryl has perched himself on and wave a hand. “You need to eat some time.”

He looks down at you, his poncho swallowing him whole. He loves that thing, refuses to give it up no matter how long you plead him to. He thinks it’s a game now, having you whine over and over about that stupid thing. You humor him, mostly. Telling him it makes him look childish.

Daryl rolls his shoulders and swings his crossbow over his shoulder, securing it around himself. He holds out his hand and pulls you up beside him, no problem. You ty to help him by hoisting yourself up with your foot on a pipe, but Daryl has you on top of the truck in two quick movements.

“Take a bite, for me?” You hold out the plate made out of leaves. On top of it sits a couple of pieces from the animal they killed earlier that day and a few crackers left over from the last house. It isn’t much, but you’ve learned not to care by now. “Daryl, when’s the last time you’ve had something?”

“The owl.” He squats down to your level, staring at you as he spoke.

“Okay. You had a little nibble of the owl.” You shove the plate in Daryl’s hands and tuck your legs under you, looking over at the flames the fire was now giving off.

He shoves some of the meat in his mouth, smacking his lips as he chews it down. You watch him, how hungry he must be. How hungry you all are. You start to think about all those times you didn’t eat that little bit extra on your plate or let the leftovers spoil before you could eat them.

The thought leaves your mind when you hear an angelic voice in the distance. You look towards the fire again, recognizing Beth’s singing voice. You can barely make out the words, but it sounds nice.

Daryl taps your shoulder and sucks the extra juice off each of his fingers. “I’ll walk ya back.” He jumps off the truck and lands perfectly on his feet, just like a cat. You giggle to yourself, imagining Daryl as a feline. Some of his traits fit.

He grabs your legs and drags you off the truck, setting you down on the ground easily. He slips his arm around you as you two walk over, listening to Beth’s beautiful voice. She hasn’t sung since the farm.

Maggie joins in the closer you get. Glenn wraps his arm around her, running his fingers down her back. You smile at them, how cute they are together.

You and Daryl stop just behind everyone. You rest your head against his shoulder, listening to the tune Beth and Maggie carry, giving you goosebumps along your spine and arms.

This is the right place to stay.


“You’re telling me I have to sleep in a cage?” Beth looks at the cells. Each one needs to be cleaned out, straightened up, each one is entirely too close to each other.

Rick nods his head, looking over his shoulder at the cages. It’s a small area, but you know between all of you, it’ll work out. “Yeah.”

Daryl’s up above, looking down on all of you. He huffs. “I ain’t sleepin’ in no cage.” He hits the railing and walks over to the perch, setting his stuff down. You wonder what that’s about. You suppose the whole sleeping together thing is out the window now.

“Take your pick.” Hershel walks over to one of the cells and sets his things down on the bed, hoping everyone else will follow.

You look up at Daryl again, watching him grab a pillow and throw it on the ground. He’s already fixed up a little pallet for himself.

“Do you want everyone to see you?” You ask, looking around as you reach the second floor. He’s a little in the way for anyone who wants to walk up here.

Daryl’s eyes are closed and his arms crossed over his chest. “Mm-hm.” He grunts.

“Am I sleeping alone now?” You ask gently, watching as Carol and Lori walk into their own cell.

“Figured you’d want yer own.” He mumbles.

“We made a promise. I’m not going to break that now.” You watch his chest slowly rise and fall.

Daryl opens one eye and looks up at you. “We sharin’ a pillow then?”

You giggle. “We share everything else.” You drop to your knees at his side. “I don’t think a pillow will hurt us.”

“Dunno.” Daryl shifts and puts his hands behind his head. “I hog ‘em.”

“That’s nothing new.” You smile and lay down with your head on his chest. You allow yourself to relax for once. This is what you miss, relaxing, not having a care, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

Rick calls for the men and Maggie to meet him after a short rest to go over the plan.

Daryl groans and hugs you to him, kissing the top of your head gently. He tells you he’ll be back soon, that he’ll make sure Rick doesn’t keep him all day.

You make a silent promise that you will find a cell the two of you will be living in. You didn’t like the thought of sitting here, on the second floor, where everyone could see you perfectly. He will just have to get over that.

SPN at Hogwarts: Valentine's Day

People seem to like this still. And I REALLY need to write something that’s not depressing because SO MANY of my metas right now are just simply and irrevocably depressing. So I’m writing another chapter of this. I’m kind of glad people still like this. This is a fun project to work on.

| - Master Post - | - Post That Inspired This - | - The Lineup For The Professors - | - People By House and Year - | - Information on the Triwizard Tournament - | - Intro - | - The Sorting Hat - | - The Boggart - | - The Goblet - | - The Knitting Club - | - Cousins - | - The First Task - | - The Hogsmeade Trip - | - The Second Task - | - Halloween - | - The Yule Ball - | - The Order - | - The Secret Meeting - | - Valentine’s Day - | - Spring Break - | - Ancestors - | - Time Travelers - | - The Birthday - | - The Third Task - | - The Unexpected Victor - | - Consequences - | - The Weapon - | - The Disease - | - The Fallen - | - The Cure - | - The End - |

SPN at Hogwarts: Valentine’s Day

Dean could hear Donna scream giddily as she clung onto that letter of hers as if she’d die if she let go. The paper was a light pink and suspiciously familiar for some odd reason. There was the scent of cotton candy wafting through the air from the letter and small bursts of light that seemed like fireworks were hidden from view from everyone due to the letter being held up at such an angle.

“Let me guess,” said Dean, nibbling on a piece of bacon, “Sam Wesson, right?”

She glanced around nervously.

“Am I really that obvious?” whispered Donna, trying to hold in a smile.

Bobby groaned from his corner, glaring at Donna.

“Yeah,” said Bobby John, his hair color changing erratically, “Yeah, you are.”

Donna glanced at him, confused.

“You should be happy for me, you know?” said Donna, “I’ve got the best boyfriend in the whole world.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” Dean asked reluctantly.

Donna turned to him, all smiles. She nodded.

“I do,” she said, folding her letter up carefully, “He said he’ll come here tonight. We’ll sneak out and have a midnight picnic.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was okay with that. A midnight picnic with a person who no one in Durmstrang has said they knew who pulled out of Durmstrang halfway through the year for a mysteriously devastating disease that was miraculously curing quite quickly. It was all just a bit too fishy for his tastes.

“Is he well enough to attend this impromptu picnic of his?” asked Dean, trying not to sound too distrustful.

He could see that Donna was trying not to glare.

“He’s been getting better every day, but his parents want him to rest. He gets weak.”

“Yeah…sure he is,” said Dean.

Donna was not hiding her anger well. Dean definitely failed on that whole ‘trying not to sound distrustful’ thing.

“If you’re so worried about it, I’ll do something for you,” said Donna as she took out a sheet of parchment and scribbled on it, “I’ll get him to have a conversation with you. Before the date. We’re still going to go on that date, don’t get me wrong, but maybe if you talk to the guy, you’ll see he’s a good guy.”

Dean blinked.

“Do you really want me to interrogate your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day? I’m not gonna go easy on him, you know that, right?” asked Dean.

Donna groaned.

“As long as it stops you from giving those judgmental looks every time I bring him up, I will do anything. Merlin’s Beard, I’d do a one man band for you if it did. Just talk to him and I’m sure you’ll love him.”

Dean sighed.

“Fine,” grumbled Dean, “I’ll talk to him, but remember, you were the one who asked for this, not me. If I hate him more, I blame you.”

Donna grinned once more.

“Thank you, Dean. This really means a lot to me,” said Donna.

Dean couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m glad this makes at least someone happy,” said Dean.

Donna gave the letter to an owl. She watched it dreamily as it flew off. Dean rolled his eyes.

“What’s your deal anyways, Dean? Don’t have a valentine or something?” asked Donna.

Bobby barked out a laugh.

“Dean?” Bobby spat, “Not having a valentine? Yeah, right, girls are groveling over you like you’re the last salted caramel milkshake in the world. That’s funny.”

“Hey, I never said I had a -”

And as if on cue, a plethora of chocolates, flowers, and cards piled on top of Dean’s plate, owls swarming him so closely that there seemed to be a storm cloud of feathers above Dean to the casual passerby.

“- any valentines.”

Dean stared at the pile falling off the table in slight disbelief. Dean didn’t really think he was that popular. Not with all the weird things he’d done since he came to Hogwarts.

“Well, it’s going to be a sad day for a lot of ladies,” said Dean, “'cause I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend then?” piped up Donna quickly.

“Wait-what? No, uh, I’m not looking for a relationship at all,” said Dean, confused as to why Donna would ask that.

“Why?” asked Bobby incredulously, “I mean, Dean, you’ve got at least thirty girls in that pile of love. Why not at least look at one of them?”

Dean groaned.

“Because I don’t have time for a relationship. What with keeping up with my grades and making sure Sam’s fine, I can’t just start a relationship, especially since my stay here’s still a bit shaky. I don’t know if my dad’s going to just appear at night randomly and drag me out of here, and what then? Leave the girl without a word? That wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” said Dean.

“Dean Winchester, you should at least live a little while you have the chance,” huffed Donna, “Now open one of those letters. It doesn’t mean you’ll go out with the person, but at least read it and make sure these aren’t weird valentine related death threats.”

Dean sighed.

“Fine. I’ll friggin’ open one, but just one, okay?” grumbled Dean, grabbing a random one from the stack.

It was a decently plain letter, which seemed less intimidating compared to many of the intricately designed ones laying in front of Dean. There was a slight scent of new car and leather, which was sort of nice to Dean, to tell the truth. He hated the fact that his friends had noticed the unconscious smile that crawled onto his face without his say in it. Dean opened the letter and began to read.

~ Will You Be My Not Valentine? ~

Dean blinked, a bit confused. Who would send a valentine card that started with that? Dean continued to read, now curious about the contents.

You seem like a great guy, Dean Winchester, and with all those ladies throwing their hearts out at you today, I wanted to give you a reason to decline a date for today or avoid the confessions at all costs. So, would you be my Not Valentine? Being my Not Valentine entails:

- Hanging out with me all day today

- Avoiding mobs of love crazed girls

- Me being a taste tester of all your chocolates (Who knows, they may all be poisoned and I may have to eat them all to save your life!)

- Making fun of grossly lovey-dovey couples

- Not doing anything romantic whatsoever

Here are your choices



Send me this via owl or give it to me personally, please.

Your Not Valentine Always,

Aaron Bass

Dean couldn’t help but smiled.

“Well, Merlin’s beard,” said Dean, grabbing Donna’s pen and checking off YES, “This may just be an offer I can’t refuse.”

Donna grinned.

“So you’ve got a Valentine, then?”

Dean laughed, shaking his head.

“Nope,” Dean said calling his idiot owl over and handing Bones the letter, “I’ve just got myself a 'Not Valentine’.”

Donna’s grin turned into a line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Donna.

Dean shrugged.

“Not quite sure, but I’d gladly take this over love at the moment. Besides, love…I’m not ready for thoughts on that right now,” said Dean truthfully.

He didn’t know why, he just wasn’t. And that was okay with him. He just didn’t want that kind of hurt in his life, not when he knew that odds were, it was going to end in pain for he and whoever he dated.

Dean felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced behind him to see Aaron, waving the letter.

“I see that you have conceded to my offer,” said Aaron.

Dean grinned, standing up.

“How could I not? I mean, seriously, I don’t think I could eat this much chocolate alone anyways.”

Aaron grabbed a handful of the bags and put them in his messenger.

“Nice to hear.”

Dean turned to Donna and Bobby.

“I’ll see you guys later,” said Dean, putting his arm around Aaron’s shoulder.

“Yeah, laters,” Aaron said, “We’ve got some Bueller-esque Shenanigans and Risky Business sliding in our underwear to do.”

The two, who would obviously not understand any of the muggle references, looked confused which only made Aaron laugh harder as they went on their way.

“You want us to slide around the Castle in our underwear?” asked Dean, holding in snickers.

“Come on, Dean,” said Aaron, “Everyone would love to see you in your underwear, your shirt buttoned one button off, your tie on your head, wearing big sunglasses as you dance and lip sing to Old Time Rock n’ Roll. Hell, you could skip out on the socks and rip off the shirt in the end, if you want, I’m sure everyone will go wild for that.”

“You are a ruiner, you know that?” said Dean as they walked out of the Great Hall, “A ruiner of people. There are children at this school.”

“And all their wet dreams will be about that crazy Hufflepuff stripping to a song they don’t know, dancing a reference they would never understand.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” said Dean.

Aaron smiled.

“You might be right,” whispered Aaron “You may not want your friend to get too jealous. Speaking of friends…”

Dean saw Cas running up to him, glancing from Dean to Aaron.

“What’s…what’s going on?” asked Cas, glaring at Aaron.

“Nothing indecent, if you’re thinking that, though, we might get a bit ribald,” said Aaron, moving his leg up so that his knee was on Dean’s midsection, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders as if it was the end of some tango number in a dance contest.

It made everything that much more awkward. Dean could only laugh nervously.

“Get off of Dean,” said Cas.

“And on what authority? The Queen of England? I don’t abide by the Church’s words, you know, I’m sort of an anarchist that way.”

Dean could only shrug, not trusting himself to laugh if he opened his mouth. Cas just kept glaring at Aaron.

“Cas, he’s just joking, man,” said Dean.

Cas kept glaring.

“Hey, Cas!”

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see April walk up.

“We need to talk - It’s important,” said April.

Cas glanced from April to Dean to Aaron, then back again.

“Looks like you’re going to be busy, Cas,” said Dean, “You better check it out. You know, for the task or whatever.”

Cas gave Dean an apologetic look.

“I’ll - I’ll talk to you later, Dean,” said Cas, walking over to April reluctantly.

“Last time he said that,” Dean said dejectedly, “He didn’t talk to me for a week.”

Aaron rubbed Dean’s back.

“Well, who cares what that dork does? You’ll be having such a good time with me that you might just forget who’s making you so sad.”

Dean smiled bittersweetly.

“Cas who?” said Dean halfheartedly.

Aaron grinned.

“That’s the spirit! Now, if only we could get more umph into that 'Cas who?’, then I can say I’ve truly done good work.”

Dean laughed.

“You can try,” said Dean.

“Oh, but Dean Winchester,” said Aaron, his grin just growing wider, “I tend to succeed at things I try at.”

Dean shook his head, unsure of what to think of this short, strange guy who seemed to make it his life purpose to make Dean not think about Cas and how Cas wasn’t hanging out with him.

“You’re a strange guy if I ever saw one, you know that, Aaron Bass?”

Aaron bowed.

“And I’ll be here all day,” said Aaron.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why do you think I, Lysander Scamander, love you, Lily Luna Potter?” said Aaron in a mock gravelly voice.

Dean glanced at the couple. They were a year ahead of them and famous in their own right. Famous kids date famous kids, it always seemed to be. Dean, deadpan, groped his pectorals.

“My boobs,” Dean said flatly.

For a moment they just glanced at the two rich kids as they stared deeply into one another’s eyes.

“Five galleons they kiss,” mumbled Aaron.

The girl slapped Lysander, stomping off, leaving him with melodramatic teary eyes. Dean couldn’t help but snicker at the scene.

“Looks like you owe me five galleons.”

Aaron sighed.

“That’s what I get for believing in love,” said Aaron.

“Now, you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” said Dean, “You see, word is Lily Luna over there - still got the hots for that godchild of her father’s Teddy, even though he's way too old for her and is going to marry her cousin Victoire Weasley. But you see, Scorpius Malfoy has befriended her recently and odds are, they might, you know, hook up. That is, if Lucy Weasley doesn’t step up her game and ask him out first. Not to mention the fact that Lorcan Scamander, who’s dating Lucy at the moment, has no idea that she has the hots for his best friend.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“You know a lot of gossip,” said Aaron.

Dean shrugged.

“Word gets around, and when you’re friends with Garth, King of Information, and well, you hear some hearsay.”

“Ooh, maybe I should become better friends with that Garth guy,” said Aaron.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“He doesn’t swing that way, buddy.”

Aaron devilishly smiled.

“Oh, not yet, he doesn’t,” said Aaron.

Dean choked on spit.

“Uh, he also has a girlfriend right now. Bess Myers,” said Dean.

Aaron kept smiling.

“Just means I’ll have to make a new BFF with that Hufflepuff a year ahead of you. Not hard. Ladies love hanging out with me,” said Aaron.

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” said Dean.

“I’m so glad that I’m not part of that Potter-Weasley business, though. Everyone sucked up in that ends up getting complicated relationships,” said Aaron.

“Not to mention all that Romeo-Juliet stuff with the Weasley girls and that one Malfoy kid. Merlin’s beard, I swear, it’s really ridiculous how much drama they have,” Dean agreed.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have too much drama in your life already, then?” said Aaron casually.

Dean sighed.

“Sort of. Let’s just say my stay here is temporary and not by my accord. I could be stolen away from this place at any moment. I’m just counting the seconds until it happens,” said Dean.

“That why you haven’t, well…”

Dean didn’t want to think about that.

“I…I don’t uh…”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean. Just know that it’s stupid. I mean, that piece of pie looks pretty tasty and just having a bite wouldn’t kill you,” said Aaron.

“I’m worried about what happens to the pie if it’s slapped out of my hands and left on the ground as I’m dragged off to fight the supposed forces of evil.”

Aaron laughed a bit.

“Now, that’s a strangely specific metaphor.”

Dean couldn’t look Aaron in the eyes.

“I’m fine with you not talking about it Dean,” said Aaron, “But that doesn’t mean, well…something casual can’t happen with someone else, right?”

Before Dean could say anything to that, something tackled Dean to the ground, hugging him.

“I tripped.”

It was so deadpan that Dean could help but snort.

“Hey, Cas,” said Dean as the awkward guy just stayed there, sprawled over him with octopus hands clinging onto him, “This is nice and all, but stone isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to lay on.”

Cas moved off of Dean and helped him up.

“Sorry,” grumbled Cas, staring suspiciously at Aaron.

“So, what’s up, Cas? Me and Aaron are kind of in the middle of something,” said Dean.

“We’re predicting what people are saying in their confessions and the outcome,” Aaron said, “You wouldn’t believe all the stuff Dean knows about Hogwarts gossip, I swear, he’s cheated me out of twenty galleon already, the dubious man.”

Cas kept looking nervously from Dean to Aaron. Even Dean was slightly surprised when Aaron put his hand in Dean’s back pocket. Cas grabbed Dean’s wrist.

“I need to talk to you. Alone.”

And without a word of agreement on Dean’s part, Cas shuffled Dean away from Aaron. Before Dean could even say a word, Cas started the conversation.

“I don’t want you to be valentines with Aaron, Dean, it doesn’t feel right,” said Cas.

“And why’s that?” asked Dean, crossing his arms, “You think you have a say on who I choose to be my valentine or not?”

This was definitely not Cas’ forte, Dean could tell. Feelings. It wasn’t really Dean’s either, but Cas seemed especially awkward on the matter.

“I…I just don’t want you with him is all,” mumbled Cas, “Not Aaron.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“If you have to know, Aaron’s my Not Valentine,” said Dean.

Cas blinked, clearly confused.


“Not Valentine. He’s hanging out with me so that I can avoid all the frigging people who sent me stuff today. It was actually pretty nice of him,” remarked Dean.

“So…not your valentine?” asked Cas, as if he had forgotten the last twenty seconds of the conversation.

“Yes. That’s kind of what 'not valentine’ implies,” said Dean.

Cas’ whole body, once ridged, seemed to deflate of tension before Dean’s eyes, relaxing as Cas gave him a small smile.

“Okay,” said Cas, “I guess that’s fine.”

“You don’t get a say in who I date and who I don’t date, though, Cas,” said Dean, feeling like he at least needed to say this, “You don’t have any pull on that. I’m just not dating because I’m choosing not to date. Because it’s just not a good time for me to date. You understand that, right?”

Cas looked a bit disheartened by the news.

“Oh…yeah, of course,” said Cas.

Dean could hear Aaron calling him back.

“Got to go, Cas. Looks like Roxanne Weasley’s about to ask that Dursley kid out. Unbeknownst to Aaron, I already know the Dursley’s secretly going out with that Smith kid, the one a year older than us who’s supposedly descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself.”

Cas tilted his head.

“Why does that matter?”

Dean grinned.

“Matters when it comes to a five more galleons in my pocket. See you later, Cas.”

Dean glared at Sam Wesson. He was tall. Too tall. He had long flowing locks that would dazzle anyone into awe-inspiring groveling. They were too fabulous of locks. He seemed to be the epitome of all that was a moose. He was too moose-y. Dean did not trust this Sam Wesson guy. He did not trust him one bit.

“Sam, Dean, I’m sure you remember each other from, uh, the Yule Ball. And when Dean walked me to you last time you came to Hogsmeade. Uh…I think I left my purse in my room. I’ll, just, uh…I’ll get that.”

Donna scurried away, giving Dean the evil eye just in case Dean forgot how annoyed she was at his complete suspicion of her boyfriend.

“So, Sam Wesson, huh?”

This Sam guy shifted awkwardly in nervous fidgeting, very familiar nervous fidgeting.

“Yup. Sam Wesson. That’s my name. Definitely my name,” said Sam, nervously laughing.

“What’s your favorite food then, Sam Wesson?” asked Dean, narrowing his eyes.

Sam gulped.

“Not peanut butter and banana sandwiches or anything like that. Totally not,” said Sam Wesson.

“That…that wasn’t really the question,” said Dean, “What about greatest fears?”

“Not CLOWNS, that’s for sure! Yup, really love clowns,” said Sam.

Dean glared it the guy. He wished frigging Sam Wesson wasn’t so tall, then Dean could have made himself a bit more intimidating by looming over him.

“Something’s up with you, and I’m going to find out soon enough. Might as well tell me what you’re hiding before I figure it out myself,” said Dean.

Before Dean could get a response from the guy, Donna walked back down with her purse in hand.

“Come on, Sam, let’s get out of here. Sorry about Dean, he’s just cautious, even though I told him he didn’t have to be,” said Donna, herding the big moose of a man out of the Hufflepuff common room.

Dean sighed, hoping that he was wrong about that tall dork. He was happy that Donna was happy, he just couldn’t help that he had this feeling in the back of his mind that told him that something was up with that moose.

Instead of stewing in his thoughts underground, Dean decided to take a walk outside, clear his mind. He walked through the hallways, wondering if his father was going to take him away, or certainly when his father was going to take him away because it was a certainty after all. Dean knew he could never trust anything that was too good to be true, as long as the wizard with the yellow eyes was still out there and his father was still hyped up on revenge.


Dean blinked as he turned to find Cas walking up to him.

“Hey, there. What are you doing walking about? Isn’t curfew going to start soon?” asked Dean, lazily smiling.

“I could ask the same of you, Dean,” said Cas, “Besides, I was hoping I could find you.”

“Why?” asked Dean curiously.

Cas glanced from side to side.

“Come with me,” said Cas.

Instead of taking Dean’s wrist, Cas took Dean’s hand this time. Dean allowed the sudden intrusion and held tightly onto the hand as Cas guided the two of them to a little used hallway.

“What is it, Cas?” asked Dean.

As Cas stepped closer to Dean, Dean stepped away from Cas, until finally Dean was basically pinned to the wall by Cas.


Cas’ eyes were focused completely and utterly on Dean. It made Dean nervous. Not nervous in a bad way, no, more of a giddy way, and Dean wasn’t quite sure if that was the best thing to feel.

“Dean, I…well…”

There was a sound from one side of the hall. Cas jumped a bit, putting his arms on either side of Dean as if to either protect Dean or box him as if he were a terrified animal who would run away at the smallest of sounds. Whatever the sound was passed and it left Cas breathing into Dean’s neck. Dean felt heat rise in him despite himself. Cas moved away and Dean almost regretted that there wasn’t another sound that would bring Cas back to that position, closer to him, bringing Dean warmth.

“I just…”

The moonlight hitting Cas made him almost ethereal, as if he were something celestial and Dante-esque, as if he was all that encompassed a being of Paradiso.

“What?” asked Dean quietly, almost hypnotically, all the letters in that one word melting like warm butter into soft sounds.

And all Dean could look at was the messy black hair, the pulling blue eyes, those lips. All Dean could think about was how close Cas was, how there were probably only a few centimeters between the two of them. The oddest part was that it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It was the opposite, in fact. It was as if Dean had always been there, this close to Cas. It felt like home and distancing himself from that space would be a crime against everything holy in this world. Cas’ eyes were so pleading.


And suddenly the distance between their lips receded and Dean didn’t remember when he closed his eyes, but warmth was spreading through him like nothing else, and he couldn’t stop his arms from grabbing onto Cas’ back, his hair. It was long and deep and Dean could barely breathe when Cas pulled away, could barely see.

“I don’t think you have to stop yourself from loving just because you think your father will take you away,” said Cas, new courage and energy bursting out of him, “In fact, I don’t think you should ever worry about your father again. Because I would never allow your father to just take you away like that again. You’re not some kidnapped princess, Dean, you get choices in life, and I believe some choices are worth fighting for. You can tell me your answer tomorrow.”

Cas turned and began to run. For a few moments, Dean tried to get his bearings, let his mind catch up and register. Dean was going to try to run, but instead stupidly tripped. He got up quickly and ran to the edge of the hallway, seeing Cas swiftly walk halfway down the adjacent hallway.

“Yes!” shouted Dean, “Yes, you weird little nerd!”

Cas stopped, turning to Dean.


Dean laughed.

“Why wait till tomorrow?” shouted Dean, “I choose yes!”

They couldn’t help but grin at one another.


I desperately need you.


With TFiOS opening in theaters this weekend, we’re all gonna need some tissues, happy thoughts and baked goods to survive. What better way to eat away the pain than with these Van Houten Cocoa Fudge Brownies? A little bit bitter like our favorite misanthropic recluse of an author, but plenty of sweetness to compliment whatever stars you’re drinking in a desperate attempt to forget the emotional pain.


  • 3/4th cup Van Houten cocoa powder (add 2 tablespoons if using Hershey’s powder)
  • 10 tbsp unsalted butter
  • 1 pinch salt
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2 eggs
  • ½ cup flour


Preheat oven to 325°F. Melt butter in microwave and add sugars, cocoa and salt, mixing until batter looks as gritty as Counterinsurgence 2: The Price of Dawn. Add the vanilla and beat in the eggs one by one, whipping until well-mixed and somewhat fluffy before gradually adding the flour and stirring until fully combined.

Line 8x8 baking pan with aluminum foil, allowing for excess over sides of the pan to enable easy removal. Bake for 35 - 40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the Literal Heart of the brownies comes back clean. Once fully baked, remove brownies from the pan and cool in a fridge or freezer until firm enough to cut into squares.

Or, y'know, grab a spoon, curl up on the couch and continue sobbing into your chocolate salvation. Whichever’s okay.

Bookmatch Marathon Challenge #1

“I’m looking for fiction about people’s stories, not necessarily mysteries or suspense, but something that might have introspection or a commentary on a life point of view wrapped in a story. (I hope this make sense.) Other books of this genre that I like: Beautiful Ruins, Where’d You Go, Bernadette, The Vacationers, The Tender Bar, Downtown Owl, and Blue Plate Special: An Autobiography of My Appetites.

Tumblr: any suggestions?

Brothers [Request] - Newt Scamander x Reader

Request: Could you write a newt x reader where the reader is always compared to her older brother and newt comforts her please 💜 💜 I’ve been feeling really down lately and this would really help xx

A/N: I hope I’ve done the request justice, and I hope that your mood improves soon! Xx (also sorry it’s short)

 I crumple the letter in my hand, my appetite lost as I push my breakfast around my plate. The owl my parents had sent me perches atop the other chair at the small table, observing me carefully. I move, throwing away the half eaten food as I rifle through cupboards to find a treat for the owl before I send it back home. It’s been like this for years. My older brother was always the responsible one, the one my parents could rely on. Throughout school, my average grades were always compared to his stellar ones. Throughout my life after school, we’d be questioned on our careers and love lives and the prospect of children. My brother is a top auror; I could be considered slightly better than average in my field. My brother is happily married, with a daughter on the way; I’m in love with a magizoologist, though unmarried, and the only children it seems I’ll ever have are the magical creatures I often help care for.

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