Everyone seems to think that all the hidden corridors and moving staircases are intentional, because the founders were a bit insane (which is true). But what if most of it wasn’t intentional? What if it’s the cumulative result of generations of young witches and wizards learning magic and all the stray magic floating about?
Like, what if that one stair poor Neville keeps getting stuck in was the result of someone trying to pull a prank on their friend in 1824 and no one could figure out a counter curse? Or the moving staircases were the result of too many jinxes and missed spells and no one really knows why they move or when they started (but Hermione did find the first recorded instance of a moving staircase in 1532 in Hogwarts, a History)
I feel like all those quirks in the castle are much more the result of the school just being so saturated with magic and mischief that it’ll never be a remotely normal building again.
Request: Hey i really love your stories
they make my day much better i just wanted to ask you if you could write an
imagine based on jessie js song nobodys perfect deanxreader i would be really
thrilled if you could make it happen P.S. i love your writing💖
Word Count: 1,907
Thank you so so much!! I hope you like it,
and I hope you have an awesome day<333
room door feels strangely imposing. It’s no taller than any other motel room
door in the country, no wider, no darker or thicker or more dangerous. The
steel numbers screwed into the door have no negative connotations to him, but
nonetheless, it’s the most heart-wrenchingly daunting door he’s ever looked at.
twice, hand shaking. In fact, everything’s shaking – this is make or break, do
or die, and he knows it. If this falls through, if he screws it up even more,
if you refuse to talk to him, it’s all over and he’ll be left to rot in a pool
of his own heartbreak until something euthanises him.
Okay, maybe that’s a tad overdramatic.
the door after a few seconds, your wet hair wrapped in a towel. You’re already
in your pyjamas – then again, it is almost four in the morning.
the hell are you doing here?” You
demand. There’s nothing gentle about your tone, none of the fondness and love
he’d half expected – more like wished for.
“I had to
come see you.” He says, swallows, and tries again, “I had to set things
straight, as far as I’m concerned,” You say, voice hard and toneless – you try
to disguise the hurt behind it, but he knows you so well that he can see it
anyway – “I know exactly what you think of me. There’s nothing else to it.”
to close the door, but something about the look on his face makes you pause and
glance him up and down once more – he’s obviously been crying quite a lot,
judging by the puffy red eyes, and he looks relatively sober by his standards.
He’s exhausted and heartbroken – not that he can garner any sympathy from it.
It’s his own fault you’re stood here.
Whatever. Come in.” You sigh, stepping back and letting him in. He nods
gratefully, stepping into the room – it’s small, as most single rooms are, but
it’s warm with shower steam and smells a little like your shampoo.
“Dean? Sweetheart?” You call, peeking your
head into the room, “What are you doing here?”
He looks up at you with glassy, tired eyes
and sighs, “How’d you find me?”
“I heard the bartender mention a drunk guy
in the cellar who wouldn’t leave.” You smile slightly, crossing over to him,
He pauses, and looks up to the ceiling
before taking a long drink from the bottle he’s holding, “Everything.”
“Everything?” You frown, “That’s bullshit.”
“Of course it’s bullshit. Everything’s bullshit.” He sighs, “I’m bullshit, and
you’re bullshit, my whole life’s bullshit.” He makes a lazy swipe at you as you
lean down and take the bottle from him, screwing it shut and placing it on top
of a barrel.
“Come on, Dean. You need some sleep.” You
offer him a hand, but he shakes his head and wobbles to his feet.
Once in the
room, you close the door and let him hover awkwardly by the wall while you move
to sit cross-legged on the bed, letting your hair down from the towel and
rubbing it dry nonchalantly.
ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He sighs, rubs a hand over his face and eyes,
casting his gaze to the floor.
“I owe you
one hell of an apology.”
you do.” You say harshly, not even sparing him a glance.
You manoeuvre him out of the bar and into
the Impala, depositing him in the back so he can slouch and climbing into the
driver’s seat. You’ve only been driving for a minute, however, when he leans
over and whispers into your ear, “I’m so sick of you.”
“I’m sick of you.” He says, almost spitting
the words out as he becomes surer of them, “I hate the way you think you can
make me better and change the world and fix things. I hate how you think you
can actually improve things – me, Sam, hunting, whatever. I don’t get it, but
it pisses me off. You’re not even that good at hunting, you know that?”
“Dean, shut up. You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, but I’m an honest drunk. I’m just
stupid enough to tell you what I really think now.” He laughs harshly, like
metal on metal, grating in your ears, “You’re a burden on me and Sam. We don’t
say anything, because we’re polite, but we don’t particularly like having you
around. You’re pretty much pointless – it was much smoother when it was just
the two of us.”
“Is this your way of breaking up with me?”
You ask, sparing him a glance in the rear view mirror as you fight back tears.
“No. This is my way of telling you the
truth, and letting you decide what to do with it.” He chuckles.
“Whatever, Dean. Just shut up and sit back,
okay? We’re almost there.”
“Good. I don’t want to be stuck alone with
you anymore.” He spits, and you press your foot down harder on the accelerator
in order to get there faster.
Y/N, I am. You have to believe me. Sometimes I just… I don’t know.” He says softly,
equal parts desperate to get closer to you and terrified of scaring you off, “I
wanted to make you tick. I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking.”
made me tick all right.” You say, unfazed by his words, “So you meant what you
course I didn’t!” He insists, “Christ, Y/N. You’re a friggin’ incredible hunter
– you should see the mess we’ve been since you left. If we bothered paying
hospital bills, we’d probably be in the millions by now.”
exactly hard.” You say offhandedly, but Dean only sighs.
Y/N, work with me here.”
“Why the hell should I, Dean?” You snap, “You
broke my freaking heart that night. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you didn’t give a shit.”
that’s not- no…” He whispers, your scathing gaze withering him before you.
that’s exactly what it was. You meant it because you wanted to hurt me.”
“I wanted to
keep you safe!” He yells, “I wanted
you as far away from me as possible so you didn’t die or worse!”
me that bullshit!” You snap right
back, “You’re so full of this self-righteousness, Dean Winchester, that you
have no idea what is actually best
for the people around you.” You stand up, advancing on him, “Maybe it’s your turn to hear some home truths, huh?”
Y/N.” He groans, rubbing his hands over his face, “It wasn’t about hurting you
or keeping you away. You’re right. It’s because I was scared. I was selfish. I
didn’t know what to do so I did the
only thing I knew how to do and hurt you as badly as I could manage.”
Thankfully, he’s asleep by the time you get
back to the motel and you get Sam to help you get him to bed, before climbing
in beside him. As soon as you’re sure Sam’s sleeping, however, you slide back
out of bed, write him a note, grab your stuff and go. You’re not willing to
deal with his shit anymore – it’s been a long time coming, and you both know
You have to stop a few miles out of town and
cry into your steering wheel until your lungs hurt and you can’t see straight
anymore. You cry and cry, until the front of your shirt is soaked through and
you’re starting to wonder if you’ll be able to stop – you don’t even know if
you want to. For the first time in a long time, you feel totally and utterly
By the time Dean sobers up, he’s already
realised what he’s done. He explains it to Sam in a pathetic, hysterical,
tear-filled way that terrifies his younger brother with how out of character if
it. He reads the note, which simply says, You
get your wish, Dean, and… and then that’s it. The years and years of
admittedly imperfect but nonetheless incredible relationship between you, the
trust, the everything… down the drain. He has no idea where you’d go – they’re
all you have, and he knows it.
You stare at
him for a moment, with a perfect stillness only betrayed by the slight tremor
of your lower lip.
you scared of?” You ask, voice softer this time and eyes shining with unshed
Us. I don’t know.” He breathes, “It was going so well, Y/N. I could see a forever
with you and I was so scared, I didn’t understand, I freaked out. I’ve never
seen a forever with anyone before,” He sighs, leaning against the wall as if
it’s his last support, “I didn’t want to lose you, so drunk me thought it would
be a good idea to do it myself.”
is a complete moron.” You say softly, wiping your hands over your face. He
know it.” He says, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispers, “I am. I owe you
everything and all I’ve ever given you it shit. I don’t deserve you, but… I’d
give anything to have you back. Anything.”
running a hand through your wet hair, “I don’t know, Dean, I-“
“Please, Y/N,” He begs, reaching out and
grabbing your hand in both of his, “I’m begging you. One chance. That’s all I
need; all it’ll take, I swear. I can be better, I will be better. Let me show
need you to be better.” You whisper, “I need you to be you. I need you to be
happy. If I’m going to scare you and make you miserable, I can’t do this.”
you. It was me.” He promises, “I’ve learned my lesson, Y/N. I’m going to treat
you right, like you deserve to be treated. Please.”
help but smile at how earnest he is, and at the tiniest of nods the brightest
smile breaks out on his face and he grabs you, pulling you into him in the
tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. It takes your breath away in every sense
of the word, but you don’t mind – he smells and feels like home, and it warms
regains enough self-control to pull away from you, he smiles broadly, “I
promise, Y/N, I’ll-“
You offer, patting his cheek. You glance over at the clock, and finding it to
be almost five, a (most likely psychosomatic) fatigue sets over you. You yawn,
taking Dean by the hand.
driving back now, right?”
“I… I don’t
know. Am I?”
“Of course you’re not. Anyway, I’ve already paid for the night.” You offer with
a smile. He smiles right back, turning off the light and, before you can
protest, picking you up like you’re no more than a child. He skilfully
navigates the room in the darkness and, upon finding the bed, deposits you into
the soft sheets before climbing in beside you.
like old times.” He grins, and you can’t help but laugh, curling into him. You don’t
voice the thought, but it occurs to you just how perfectly you fit together. He
wraps his arms around you and right there, everything comes together – you’re