i-ended-up-writing-a-fanfiction

Coming Home | one-shot |

Summary: Himawari always knew home was where the heart was. Luckily, her heart was big enough for all. 

Pairing: mild NaruHina, mainly Himawaru-centric.
Prompt: Inspired by this prompt by godzillanon​ and narootos​. 

AN: I sat down on my computer this morning to do work and ended up spending the day writing this instead. It was much too good a prompt to pass up. Enjoy! (And side note: Hima named everyone. She is definitely her father’s daughter.)
(Also on ff.net)


“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Naruto looked up from the report he was reading at the kitchen table to see his daughter standing in the doorway. She shuffled from side to side, her head ducked down, her arms tucked behind her back. She looked distinctly bashful and so very much like Hinata when she was that age. Naruto smiled at the thought.

“Can you play with me?” Himawari’s bright blue eyes darted up to look at his face hopefully.

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anonymous asked:

So in 1947 there was this GIANT blizzard that unexpectedly dumped 26.4 inches within 24 hours on Christmas day. With season 2 being set in 1947, I'd love to see a fic where this is mentioned. Maybe Peggy goes to surprise Angie for Christmas, but ends up spending half the day trying to get across town to the house? Or idk, the two of them relaxing in CA happy to have avoided the mess? Or whatever strikes you as will work. Maybe snowball fights and snow angies?

I used this prompt to also give emerysaks snogging, so if you didn’t want that, I’m very, very sorry. 


“Residents are advised to stay off the roads until the snow has been cleared,” the voice on the radio crackled, reminding Angie that her audition would most likely be cancelled. She couldn’t complain, though. She had a warm fire, three blankets wrapped tightly around her, and most importantly, Peggy. For Christmas, she had surprised Angie by coming home from L.A. for a week – Angie genuinely squealed when she opened the door to find her red-nosed, shivering lover with a suitcase in hand.

After four months of being apart, Angie couldn’t help but keep Peggy constantly in her sights, and every opportunity she had, she would make sure there was some point of physical contact between them. At the moment, she was resting her head on Peggy’s shoulder, inhaling the perfume she’d missed so much during the long months of separation. Phone calls were nice, but they were far from enough.

Peggy moved to get up and Angie whined in protest, reaching for the older woman to sit back down. Peggy chuckled and kissed the top of Angie’s head as she walked away. “I’m just getting something to drink, I promise.”

Angie huffed at the loss of contact. “Fine.”

Already Angie missed the warmth of Peggy, and buried herself deeper into the cushions. The random snowfall was an excellent excuse to stay inside and cuddle with  her best gal, but a few degrees warmer would have been acceptable.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?” Peggy asked.

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Helpless: Modern AU CS (3/-)
image

Summary: Killian Jones is a single dad, working for a better life for himself and his son Liam. He does not feel like he needs a woman in his life. Until one night he ends up in ER with his son and meets a gorgeous pediatrician, who may flip his world around. 

AN: For Lenfaz. This story is evolving constantly. Unfortunately I have to rethink some parts, because one of my lovely betas informed me of a significant difference between Polish and US health care. I was very important to the story and made some things easier and other harder to plot. I’m not sure when the next part will be posted. Enjoy. A big thank you to my betas: captain-k-jones, zengoalie and o-u-a-timer.

Part 1(FF.net, AO3)/ Part 2(FF.net, AO3)

Read on: FF.netAO3

Part 3


Killian slammed the door as he walked into the room, letting his anger get the best of him. It was not because his son did not have a mother. He had made peace with that some time ago. He still felt sad when he thought about her death, it was a painful subject, but grief had left him some time ago.

His anger stemmed from the way this Emma Swan talked to him. Of course, she was the same as the others. His hands gripped the jacket, he held in them, a little tighter. Why would she be any different? They all had judged him the moment he stepped into the hospital following the paramedics. He could feel their stares, even though he had been distracted. Sometimes, he had a sixth sense, letting him know people were going to judge him. He had been so sure he was immune to them by now. Unfortunately, Emma Swan came into the picture. It’s not like she was the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Killian Jones had known beautiful women before. Very beautiful. Excluding his wife, no other woman’s opinion had ever mattered to him before. Why should Emma’s suddenly matter?

Beauty is deceptive, he thought bitterly. He had learned that a long time ago. Better not waste time on thinking about that Swan doctor.

“Papa?” his son’s voice brought Kilian back to reality, all dark thoughts forgotten.

Liam had been sitting in a chair next to a nurse, trying to calm him down. His bare feet dangled over the tiled floor. Brown curls stuck to his wet face, eyes were red and puffy. Tiny lips trembled at the sight of his father and within seconds the boy broke free from the woman’s hold, running towards the door.

Killian threw his jacket on the nearest chair, not really paying attention where it landed. He crouched quickly and caught  his son, before Liam’s small body crashed into his legs.  His arms closed around the shivering child, holding him tight.  Little hands clung to his neck making it a little hard to breathe, but Killian did not untangle himself from the boy’s hold. Cotton clad legs wrapped around his waist in a death grip as Killian attempted to straighten up.

“I’m here, my boy.” His voice cracked while he stroked the small head resting on his shoulder. The wetness on his shirt made his own eyes tear up and he swallowed hard, trying to hold them back. “Everything is going to be just fine.” He rocked his son gently, whispering soothing nothings in the boy’s hair.

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Truth or Dare Part 2

I was asked two write a sequel to Truth or Dare (my playlist fic)… so I did… Enjoy!

Truth or Dare Part 2

Since their panel this morning, Grace and Hannah haven’t had any time alone together. They were both in a panel for up-coming YouTubers, then they had a panel for Electra/Dyna, then Hannah had to go to the LGBT+ panel. The LGBT+ panel should be ending soon, and Grace was not a very patient person. So, Grace went into the room the panel was in, and stood off to the side. Hannah looked so happy participating in this panel. ‘It has always made her so happy to be able to help other people with their problems. She looks like she’s having so much fun with Tyler and Troye.’ Grace thought as she watched from the crowd. They were wrapping up the panel when all of a sudden things were halted when a fan stood up on a chair and shouted while pointing at Grace.

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So this thing isn’t dead. It’s actually been sitting almost-done on my computer for a while but grad school papers are not things you can fuck with. But I’m on summer break now so I’ll try to finish this fic up before the end of the summer…  Also you guys get to meet the really amazing half of our General’s family so get excited!

I completed one of your prompts (fanfiction style, using characters from the canceled NBC show, Revolution). Hope you don’t mind that it’s not “original” writing, per say. But I just wanted to thank you for providing this prompt. I’ll be checking out your other prompts soon. :)

Awesome~

Thanks for writing and submitting this!! <3

This somehow ended up in Draft Purgatory when I thought I’d set it up to post. T_T

Hellatus!
  • Hellatus!
  • Brigitte
  • Supernatural Songs
Play

Lyrics:

It’s time
For Hellatus!
It’s time
For Hellatus!

Schedule’s clear since the finale
For you and me too
Oh the things that we’ve seen
So go back and start to watch the show again!
Make way!
To the sites!
And stay up 
all night
Lamenting over reruns

Hellatus will destroy us! Feel for our fandom!
Sanity precariously
left to discuss
We try our best to stay calm,
Writing and drawing ‘til dawn
But this new work cannot fully carry us!

Hellatus will ruin us! We’re self-destructing!
At least Comic Con is here, that is a plus.
We get to see our boys back
It helps with the show we lack
But ultimately, it ends ‘cause it’s
Hellatus!

We’ve got thousands of brand new fanfictions!
Oh my God, I heard Misha shipped Diestel
And the art, there is none that compares!
What the hell is Bagelpocalypse?
But it’s not Kripke’s actual depiction
We’ve just gotta face
We can’t replace
Castiel’s longing angel stares

*At same time as verse below*
Hellatus – blessing for us – let’s take a small break
Twenty-three episodes see? That’s quite a lot
I need to catch up on sleep
Because I am in in too deep
To breathe before the end of the Hellatus!

*At same time as verse above*
There’s no question that this show’s alluring- Always intriguing never boring-
Everything about the show just plain impresses…
The dialogue, characters, Impala
And the boys no matter what you call ‘em
And it always leaves us with so many guesses!

We’ve got one minute clips of next season
We’ve got new seasons!
Let’s see new seasons!
And it drives us beyond our reason!
Will Gabe be back?! Will Gabe back?!
We’ve got interviews, photo shoots, tweeting.
Oh what’s happening?!
Will Dean be okay?
And what will Sam say?
And Cas anyways?
We can’t survive!
Hellatus!
Hellatus!

Hellatus, a curse for us, Where is our show now?!
We need to know how, the ending’s ominous.
Our fandom’s crazy for sure
New episodes, the sole cure!

With two great brothers
And angels galore
With demons, monsters,
hunters and more
It’s no wonder, that we do thunder
Cause this show is fabulous!
We’ll die
Cause Hellatus!

Title: Whiskers

Pairing: NaruHina; Family fluff

Summary: Mama didn’t have whiskers and Himawari was determined to find out where they went.

Prompt: Inspired by this headcanon. My thanks to thenaruhinaforum for both permission and inspiration! I had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you so much!

Note: Inspired by the above headcanon. I really hope it lives up to expectations and that you all enjoy it. This was really enjoyable to write, and while it didn’t end quite like I expected it to, I’m actually quite happy with it. Thank you and enjoy!


“Daddy!”

Naruto looked up from his report as Himawari’s cry pierced through the normal morning calm. He was barely given any chance to react before the little girl was tottering her way into his office, her face scrunched up in obvious distress. Tears pooled in her eyes and her little lips sat firmly in a pout. Naruto was up and kneeling in front of her before the little girl had time to speak.

“What’s wrong, Hima? Are you hurt?” He looked her over closely, searching for any cuts or bruises she might have. None of the clones he had disguised around the house had popped, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

Himawari shook her head. “‘Ey’re gone, daddy!”

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anonymous asked:

hi! :) just want you to know i loved loved your Mutual Release fic!! are you planning on writing a follow up to Oliver's story? from the moment it ends?! it would be awesome!! :))

Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 1

Reading these first is highly recommended, but certainly not necessary:

Mutual Release: Felicity
Mutual Release: Oliver

Summary: Story #3 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. Felicity and Oliver get caught up in the moment, leading to mutual releases in the kitchen.


Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her hand still on his cheek as he inhaled deeply, realizing at the same time as he did what exactly he was smelling on her…

A deep red flush rushed across her, making her skin feel like she was being pricked over and over with a red hot poker as they stared at each other, neither moving… until the distinct smell of burning pancake permeated the air, snapping her out of his stare.

“The pancakes,” Felicity whispered, and she pulled her hand back, but Oliver was faster. He caught her wrist and she gasped, “Oliver, what-” but his eyes never left her face as he swung his hand out, shoving the pan off the burner without looking. He didn’t let go of her as the pan clattered across the stovetop.

He opened his mouth, but it snapped shut just as quickly, like he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say - if anything, and god, she really didn’t want him to say anything because this was… this was too much.

He could smell her on her own fingers.

It was making her feel like throwing up the butterflies suddenly shoving themselves against the walls of her stomach.

She hadn’t thought about what she was doing when she wiped his cheek. He’d had batter dried on him; it’d been cute and endearing, and she’d wiped it away.

That was it… but it was so not it.

She knew what her fingers smelled like; she’d wiped drool off her face that morning with the very ones that she’d used to rub herself with last night, in the hallway, listening to him as he…

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Baby, We’ve Got A Problem: Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 1335

Summary:  The reader faces some trouble when Baby isn’t just a car anymore. Human!Impala

Gif:

A/N: Read Chapter 1 Here! Read Chapter 2 Here!

Also, sorry about the abrupt ending. I originally had this, and what will be chapter 4 as one chapter, but it was SUPER long, so I broke it up. 

—–

“Damn it, Y/N.” Dean throws his phone down on the table in frustration.

It had been three hours since you left, without a single phone call or a text. Dean had called you six times now, and you didn’t answer once.

“Still nothing?” Sam looks up at his brother from across the table.

Dean sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

The two of you had plenty of fights before. That’s what happens when two hotheaded and stubborn hunters try to make a life together. But no matter how much you yelled and screamed, if you left, you’d be back in an hour. The two of you would realize how stupid you’d been, and you’d make up the best way you knew how; Breathy “sorries” in-between rough touches and sloppy kisses. Hell, sometimes Dean would just pick fights just for the awesome makeup sex that always followed.

But this was different. When the two of you fought, you were always pissed, frustrated or just flat out annoyed. Tonight, tonight was different. As you screamed at him, your eyes glistened. Your teeth grit so tight, he thought your jaw was going to pop out. This time, you were hurt. And you didn’t get hurt. You were tough. Not shedding a tear whenever Dean had to stitch you up after a fight. Opting for whiskey and sex over talking about your feelings. A lifetime as a hunter had made you tough, inside and out, and watching you stand under the florescent lights, your body shaking and looking totally unsure of yourself, Dean didn’t know what to do. He had never seen this side of you and wasn’t sure how he was suppose to make it better.

He had a feeling there wouldn’t be any makeups tonight.

“I’ve called her six times, Sammy. Six! And nothing. She’s never been gone this long.” He bangs his fist on the table, bouncing it as he tries to think.

“Any idea where she might be?”

Dean purses his lips.

You could be anywhere. You were a loose cannon, one that always kept him on his toes. Every day was different with you. You were like a whirlwind wherever you want.  Dean knew you inside and out, from every scar, to every thought that crossed your mind, but even then he still didn’t know where you would go. You could be at the lake, where you love to go and write in your journal or read, or you could be at your favorite diner, where the waitress Sally reminds you of your mom, or the library, just sitting in the quietness, needing a break from it all. You didn’t have one spot, you had spots all over town, and you could be at any one of them.

“No fucking clue.” Dean grips his phone tight, tempted to call you again, but knowing there won’t be an answer.

“And the worst part is, I’m not even sure what she’s upset about! I mean, obviously it has to do with Baby, but I just have no clue why it’s bothering her so much.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenched as your words run through his head.

“Do you know what she even said?” Dean points to his brother. Sam shakes his head and shrugs. “She said, and I quote, ‘you and Sam are playing grab ass with the car.’” Sam snorts a laugh through his nose. “What the hell does that even mean?” Dean throws his hands up.

Sam looks away, towards the hallway where Baby is, either in the kitchen or in her room.

She had tried to help Dean with whatever was going on with you two, but a gruff, “Baby, not now,” had her ducking her head and getting out of the way, not wanting to push his anger further.

“I mean, maybe she’s got a point.” Dean’s eyes go wide as Sam shrugs. “I mean, yeah, we’ve been researching, but Y/N’s really the only one who’s been trying to find something. We’ve been totally okay with Baby turning.”

“Cause it’s Baby. We know her. She knows us. She’s the only home we’ve ever had until we found the bunker. She’s just as much family as you and me!” Dean yells, feeling like he shouldn’t have to defend Baby to Sam.

“Yeah, Dean, I get that, I do, and it’s a sweet sentiment when Baby was just a car, but now she’s not. And maybe Y/N’s right, maybe we shouldn’t be as okay with it as we are. We’ve been so caught up in hearing her stories and teaching her things, we’ve overlooked the fact that just a week ago, Baby was steel parts and rubber, and now she’s a real, live woman.”

Sam lets his words hang in the air, sinking into Dean’s mind.

He admits, after the initial freak out of it all, he almost instantly took to the idea of Baby being alive. But Baby meant the world to him, more than she did to Sam. He was the one who spent hours a week on her making sure she was tuned up and running well. He was the one who carefully cleaned her so she never had a single mark scarring her. He had built her from the inside out on more than one occasion.  

She was his car, his home, the only other thing Dean actually cared about in this screwed up world besides Sammy, Y/N, and Cas.

“So we’re not as freaked out as we should be.” Dean shrugs. “But why the hell would that piss Y/N off so much that she’d still be gone? It’s past midnight, Sam. This isn’t like her.”

Sam purses his lips. He has a thought, but he’s not sure if he should say it or not.

“What?” Dean demands, recognizing the look on his brother’s face.

Sam takes a deep breath, looking around the library like the answer he’s looking for his written on one of the bookshelves.

“Maybe,” he started, his lips coming together. “Maybe she uncomfortable with her.”

Dean’s eyebrows scrunch together.

Uncomfortable?” Dean asks incredulity. “Why the hell would Y/N be uncomfortable with Baby.”

“Dean, just think about it for a minute. Think about how much you love Baby, as a car. How much time and effort you put in to taking care of her. How you talk about her like she’s a real person. And now she is a real person.”

Dean laughs, sharp and sarcastic.

“Are you trying to tell me that you think Y/N is jealous? Jealous of Baby?” Dean points over his shoulders. “Y/N doesn’t get jealous, Sammy.” Dean crosses his arm.

“Yeah, Dean, she doesn’t get jealous of random girls who hit on you at bars, or the winks that witnesses give you when we’re working cases. But you don’t know them. You have no history with them. They mean nothing to do. But Baby means the world to you. And Y/N knows that.”

Dean points as his brother, ready to give him an earful, when his phone vibrates in his hand, your name flashing across the screen.

“Y/N?” Dean sighs in relief.

“Uh, no.” Dean’s face scrunches up and he straightens up in his chair at the unfamiliar voice. Sam does the same, noticing something isn’t right. “It’s Paul, from J.J’s Tavern.”

Dean relaxes a little, recognizing the name of their local bartender, but confusion stays etched on his face as he wonders why Paul’s calling from your phone.

“I’m calling cause Y/N needs a ride, and she refusing a taxi and trying to convince me to let her walk.”

“Jesus christ.” Dean mutters, his head falling into his free hand. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

Dean’s out of his chair before he even hangs up.

“You found her?” Sam calls after him.

“I’ll be back soon.” Dean yells over his shoulder, grabbing some keys to a spare car and racing down the road.

—-

Continue Reading Here!

Hey, everyone!


    To celebrate the second installment of Durarara!! x2 coming somewhere in July apparently, we figured we might as well celebrate with a fun summer-themed event to try and keep everyone alive until then!

    It’s very simple- if you’d like to participate, go ahead! This is for anyone and everyone who feel like joining in.

    Ideas? If you’re an ask blog, toss your character at the beach and answer a few questions! If you roleplay, grab a buddy and hang out by the beach! If you love to write fanfiction or draw fanart, go ahead and fling your creativity into a pleasant summer/beach themed… well, you get the point.

 

This event will officially start on June 1st, 2015, and end June 30th, 2015.

If you’d like me to advertise your participation at all, be sure to message me and I’ll come up with a post with all of your wonderful urls. )

the-mrs-pietro-maximoff asked:

Could you write something where the reader is fighting alongside with the avengers (before Pietro and Wanda join the team) and the reader has to soar one on one with Pietro and after awhile they're very obviously attracted to each other and they end up hooking up? And could the reader have se kind of fun power like telekinesis? :)))

“Enemies”

Pietro/Reader

WordCount: 1,781

Rating: Teen

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, I had work all weekend, and ended up throwing a party on Friday instead of writing. Hope you like it!! And I’m still taking requests!” 


“We have an enhanced on the field!” Called out Captain America’s voice through the earpiece (Y/N) was wearing. Her heart started racing with excitement, finally something to do. “(Y/L/N), Barton is down, take care of the enhanced.” He told her.

               “You got it Cap!” (Y/N) replied, running to Barton’s position to find whoever attacked him. About half way there something slammed into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground. Instantly she shot back up, doing a quick mental check for injuries. He shoulder was sore from where she got hit, but nothing fatal. Taking a quick scan of the area, (Y/N) watched as the leaves a few yards from her were suddenly disrupted. It happened inhumanly fast, if it weren’t for the leaves falling slowly she wouldn’t have been able to track the movement. This was obviously the enhanced.

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More of AyaPin

Okay, let me fangirl a little more. I can’t stop thinking about AyaPin. I am going insane.

Here comes few more things that I found to be pointing out Ayane’s interest in Pin.

She got a candy from him like every other girl for White day. Cheap throat lozenge. She thought it was nice of him when she should get annoyed but she doesn’t let him take it back and actually thanks him 3 times when he was being silly about not hearing her. But now the best part….. she didn’t eat, she still has it!!!! 

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We’ll Make The World Bow

I know this isn’t any of the prompts I should be doing, but Episode 3’s ending just… whoa. So, here’s some sweet Pricefield, for the sake of my feels.

“Grow up! You’re not the only one in Arcadia Bay who has problems!”

“Insert groan here…” Max whispered, taking her time getting up the Blackwell Academy steps. “You are such a colossal fuck-up, sometimes…” The brunette’s words turned to thoughts as she sauntered toward her dorm.

Max labeled the last twenty-four hours as “crazy-shit-fun”. Breaking into Principle Well’s office, and ransacking a crazed drug dealer’s RV was the “crazy shit” portion. Going for a midnight swim with the girl she may or may not have fallen for, then an impromptu sleepover, followed by a kiss made up the “fun” portion.

It was also the portion that made Max blush the most.

But the last five-minutes, the photographer had somehow found a way to screw shit up.

Finding out that Rachel may have had a “thing” with Frank, and decided not to tell Chloe about it; was probably the worst time for Max to shout at her like that.

She could still hear the roar of Chloe’s truck in the distance, it raised and lowered in octave; signaling that she was probably driving like a maniac before fading off completely.

Max shuddered a bit, regretting what she couldn’t have held back in the truck. She didn’t mean to yell at Chloe like that, but that was one of those times the punk just ground on Max’s last nerve -completely shutting out everyone’s aid and forcing herself in the locker of “Self-loathing Chloe”.

As Max reached the dorm; she continued to think. She knew everyone that had come across Chloe almost always had the same story about her. Bad, loud-mouthed, rebellious, and hard to deal with. As much as Max hated to admit it, sometimes she felt similar. Like being around Chloe was like walking on thin ice.

Max was one of few who knew better.

She knows Chloe so much better than the punk façade she put on every day. She knows how broken Chloe is on the inside -crying out for someone.

“Probably why she got over me leaving, so fast.”

Max used to think otherwise. She thought her entry back into Chloe’s life -and the sudden acceptance of it- was just a patch on things until they found Rachel. And as soon as they did; Chloe would ditch and head to Los Angeles.

Last night at the pool was where things… changed.

“That was some sappy stuff, but… it was nice.” Max’s thoughts revolved around Chloe’s ‘Don’t be so sad. I’m never leaving you…’ line. Things changed. And Max felt like she was a staple in Chloe’s life again.

“Not stumbling in time. This is real.”

Her dorm room door came soon enough. The Rachel-clad brunette slipped inside. She faced the open window, forming a tiny grin at the sun setting below the bay. The sights were soothing almost. It made everything below the window-line dark. Covering up the piling mess that blanketed her room.

“Looks like a tornado tore through here,” Max choked a little, “Okay, bad joke, probably shouldn’t crack jokes about what I’m probably gonna fail at stopping…”

She haphazardly tossed her bag next to the couch before making a grand flop onto her cozy bed -completely ignoring Nathan’s “Art” on her wall.

“Just… need to get my mind off shit…”

Her phone was the only bastion of hope in this situation, “What’s better than pirated music, and shitty phone games?” Max reached for the device. Chloe had been 95% right when it came to Rachel being her size, but the jeans were a bit tight. In a poor effort to get her phone out; Max yanked the rest of her pocket’s contents out with it.

Her phone hit the floor, amidst bits of pocket change, lint, and…

“Oh…” Max elicited softly. Her doe-eyes landing on the Polaroid of her young self, and Chloe.

A happier Chloe.

A gift from Joyce. The gift of memories. Something Max hated herself for not remembering. Sometimes she really did feel like she was stumbling in time. Too stupid to understand how things actually worked. The brunette didn’t want for any of this to happen, but her pessimistic side shouted that it was her that made Chloe end up the way she is.

“Like I was controlling time before I even knew I could.”

Somberly, Max reached out for the photo. She remembered now, of course, “Of course Max, always when you’re too late.”

The photo sat loosely in her palm. She examined it like she’d never seen a photo before. Flipping it over, turning it upside down, even holding it to the light like it held some sort of secret.

A sudden vibration tickled by her feet. It startled to photographer, dropping the photo and looking down to where her phone was next to her foot. She squinted at the caller ID; internally hoping it was Chloe.

“Price J & W? Joyce and… Oh.” “She never changed the caller ID… wonder why she’s calling.” By the third vibration, Max answered it.

“Joyce?” Max timidly asked.

“Oh, Max, thank god you answered,” Joyce’s tone didn’t exuberate its usual calmness.

Max could hear faint clattering in the background, “Is everything okay, you sound worried.” “Please don’t let it be Chloe…”

“It’s Chloe, Max. She came home pretty upset, lotta cussing and threats towards Rachel and a guy named, Frank. Did something happen between ya’ll?”

“Shit…” Max tried to keep calm. She allowed for Joyce to continue.

“Max, I tried to get her to calm down; but she’s pretty upset this time. You’re the only one she’ll likely listen to.”

There was more clattering in the background, followed by a door slamming shut. It was all the intuition Max needed, “I’ll be right over.

"Thanks Max, please hurry though. I think she’s trying to leave.”

Max immediately hung up the phone. She leapt from her bed and dashed towards the door. Not even bothering to close it behind her.

Curious faces watched as she ran down the girl’s dorm hallway, bursting through the doors and racing down the stairs.

Joyce was right, it shocked Max, but she was right. Chloe needed help, not damage control.

And she was the only one that knew how.

######

Merely fifteen minutes later, the bus arrived on Chloe’s street. In a heated shuffle, Max raced out of the bus, and jogged half a block to the Price’s home. As she came up the street, she could see Chloe just stepping into the open garage.

Max paced by her truck, her foot accidentally stepped on a dry leaf next to it. The impending crunch was enough to blow her cover.

Sharply, Chloe turned to Max, “What’re you doing here?”

The brunette winced, “It looks like she was crying…” Her poor skills in these scenarios stopped her from answering.

Chloe turned away. Facing the far back wall of the garage, “Mom called you, didn’t she?”

“S-She did, but that doesn’t matter. Chloe I-”

“Can nobody in this town leave me the fuck alone?!”

The punk began rummaging around the cupboards above David’s computer, “Don’t even, Max. This has nothing to do with you.”

“What’re you talking about?” Max asked, taking small step after small step closer.

“I’m fucking done Max. I’m tired of living in a place where I constantly get fucked over.”

Max remembered their conversation from earlier, “Chloe please-”

“What?” The aqua-haired girl sidestepped and glared at Max, “Wanna tell me to grow up? Tell me to forgive and forget? You don’t think I hear that every waking hour of my pitiful life?”

“Chloe you still have a life here. Remember what you said at the pool last night? About us, and how were gonna figure shit out?”

Every step Max took; Chloe mimicked the same. Not wanting to be anywhere near her.

“I was being a nostalgic shit again.”

Max felt her already weakened resolve failing, “What happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know, my Dad dies, my best friend leaves, I get step-shit, but oh! Here’s the best part, my other friend, who I thought I could trust; turns out to be going behind my back with some off-the-street drug dealing asswipe!” Chloe’s breaths were ragged and audible, “I’m tired of it Max.”

Chloe stepped back again, closer to- “The gun case? What’s she- oh no…”

The punk picked up on Max’s gaze shifting from the case to herself, “Max, you need to leave.”

“Chloe no.”

“Leave, I’m telling you. Just leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave, I know what-”

“Leave Max! Leave like you did before, It wasn’t so hard then, so why not now?”

Max felt a sudden anger rise inside of her, “So, what, you’re gonna go kill Frank?”

“If he doesn’t tell me where Rachel is, yes.” She reached the gun case. Kneeling down she patted a small spot underneath of it, producing a small key, “Step-shit always keeps a spare.” She fiddled with the lock, Max winced even more as she heard it click open.

“Chloe please! Stop it!” Max choked back a sob, thanking the heavens for not giving the gun to her from Frank’s RV.

It was too late. Chloe grabbed the pistol from the top rung and pocketed a few boxes of ammunition.

Max reached her breaking point, “No!” She dashed behind Chloe, forcing her shoulder around. She was beginning to sob, feeling like this was all her fault. The sudden attack startled the punk, giving Max the chance to snatch the gun from Chloe’s grasp.

“Listen to me, this isn’t the answer,” Max saw Chloe’s eyes dip down, guided by the tear slipping off Max’s cheek, “Rachel didn’t betray you, and killing Frank won’t solve anything.”

“It’ll make me feel a little better.”

“Shut up! Just shut up! Do you even hear yourself right now?!” Max’s voice cracked and thundered, “W-What if you did g-go? And you got hurt instead?”

Chloe couldn’t bear to look Max in the eyes. Slowly, she could feel herself coming back down to earth, “Max don’t.”

“I wouldn’t be there to save you.”

Max sobs came fully now, her arms trembled with adrenaline and fear. The thought of losing Chloe hitting her hard, “You know how destroyed Joyce would be, if she found out she lost you too?”

Chloe remained silent, feeling heartbroken for putting Max through her bullshit again.

“O-Or if I-I g-got a call in the middle of the n-night, saying you’re…”

“Max please, I’m-”

“R-Remember what you said at the pool yesterday? You said you’d never leave me.”

Chloe’s lip trembled. Her beautiful eyes glossed over with tears, “I know. I’m such an idiot because I know.”

Max relinquished her grip on the punk, “Ever since you came back into my life, I don’t feel sad and alone here. Yesterday, was so fucking amazing, I-It made me feel like I have a place with you again.”

“It d-did?”

“It did. Che… remember when we were kids, and whenever we’d fight or not talk; you’d always be the first one to come over and say sorry?”

“H-Heh, yeah, I… do.”

“I was being a stubborn little shit, but you cared, and you came, a-and we always worked stuff out. Well, now it’s my turn. I cannot do this alone, and I w-want you to be the one who’s there when I think it’s impossible,” Max mustered a weary grin. Softly placing her hand on Chloe’s cheek, wiping a tear away, “I’m not telling you to forgive and forget, but I just want you to know… how much you mean to me.”

Chloe sniffed, she wrapped her arms around Max’s neck and yanked her into a tight embrace, and she couldn’t form words. Just sobs into Max’s small shoulder.

The brunette grinned, with a little more assurance now. She stroked Chloe’s hair, hushing her to not cry.

“I’m so sorry Max…”

“You don’t have to be.”

Chloe pulled back, Max wasn’t finished yet, “We’ll do this together.”

“H-Hella yes we are. Once this is over, you’re gonna make the world bow with your power.”

“No,” Max hugged Chloe again, “We, will make the world bow.”

Savior

Request: hi! i was wondering if you could write about Sam and Dean selling their souls for each other and they end up having only two years left to live but the reader becomes an angel to save them and Cas helps her. you can make a series of it too :)

Word Count: 1,842

Warnings: fair swearing, some violence, feels.

A/N: *fangirls* oh my god, guys. i’m so excited to do this one! This is making me shake in excitement and fear! Please, please, please tell me what you think of it! And tell me if you want me to continue this as well! Plus a shoutout and thanks to miss beautiful theperksofbeingginny for being an amazing editor :)


The sky was turning into a dark blue while you tried to think clear thoughts. Sam and Dean were in the Bunker, screaming their hearts out at each other, but you believed it was out of love and protection. That was the only thing you could believe at the moment. The brothers never argued like this. It was so brutal and emotional, the exact opposite of what they try to make themselves seem.

A soft breeze blew over your skin and it sent shivers down your spine. The cool November air in Kansas was comforting and yet foreign. You purposely stepped outside to let Sam and Dean have a moment to “talk” things over. But obviously you were wrong.

It was getting too cold for you to be outside any longer and you stepped back into the Bunker. Both of the men quieted down when they saw your face.

“You two done being a married couple yet?” you asked with a smirk tugging at the edge of your lips. Sam gave his famous bitch face and rolled his eyes the same time as Dean did.

“You know, this isn’t funny. We’re both gonna’ die!” Dean said pacing back and forth in the library. Sam sat in the wooden chair, his hands in his hair.

“Dean, we know this isn’t funny,” Sam replied for you, keeping his head low. You didn’t disagree; it wasn’t funny. The boys you loved most in the world were dying and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Dean looked over at you, and for the slightest moment, you thought you saw fear trembling in his eyes. Your heart contracted at the sight of Dean and you wanted to reach out and touch his face, to comfort the scare in this broken man. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed your hands into fists and dug your nails into your palms.

“You guys, we’ll figure something out. We always do,” you said softly, but felt like a fool the second those words left your mouth. They always did figure out what to do next, but at the same time, someone always died in the end.

Sam lifted his head and pulled himself out of the chair, his body slump and tired looking. Dark shadows were forming around his eyes, showing his strong cheekbones to be almost poking out of his skin. His lips were pursed and his eyes were sad. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be.

“We don’t know anymore, Y/n. We’ve done possibly everything in the book from hunting mythical creatures to hunting demons and angels, starting the apocalypse to going to hell and back一literally. We’ve fixed everything and一” Sam paused and looked down at the wooden floors, avoiding to meet anyone’s gaze. “Maybe this time we can’t do anything.”

It was Dean this time who looked at you and his younger brother with exhaustion weighing down his features.

“Don’t talk like that, Sammy. We’ll figure a way out of thisーjust like Y/n said一”

“And do what, Dean?!” Sam yelled, throwing his hands in the air and slamming them on the oak table in front of him. “We’ve been doing this our whole lives; running from monsters and angels and demons. But I’m tired. I don’t want to run anymore.”

Dean stared with something dark cornering his irises. “So what? You just want to sit there and let some damn hell puppies tear you apart?” His voice was hoarse and strained. You started to wonder if you should go back outside again.

Sam dropped his head and chuckled softly. “What does it matter, Dean? It’s either be torn by hellhounds or by God himself for us. We don’t get a choice in how we die.”

Standing there in disbelief, Dean wanted to hurt his brother physically, the first in a long, long time. You knew Sam and Dean long enough to know every little trigger and little detail that makes them who they are. And Dean was about to snap.

The books that had been on the table were now scattered all over the ground, papers flying in the air and research no longer in sight. Sam’s eyes widened at his brother’s sudden action and bent to pick up all the material. Dean stalked over and grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt, digging his nails into his clothing.

“I’m not letting you die, Sam!” Dean screamed, slamming his brother up against the nearest wall. “We’ve been through too much crap to just give up like this! I took care of you my whole life! And I screwed up! But dammit, Sam, I’m not letting you quit! You’re my brother and I’m gonna’ save you.” His voice cracked just barely and it made you jump from disturbance.

They both stood there for a moment, their chests heaving in unison, until you walked over quietly and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and he tenderly dropped Sam. His eyes were still wide from Dean, but he was able to move willingly now.

“Look,” you said with authority, your voice echoing off the Bunker’s stone walls. “You guys need to knock it off. All right? We’re gonna’ figure this out and when we do, we’ll do whatever it takes to bring us back from this. But until then, you two need to pull your head out of your asses and breathe.”

They both didn’t move, as if you hadn’t even spoken.

You tried again. “Hey, guys. It’s late. You should head for bed. Get some sleep and we’ll try this again tomorrow.” They still didn’t move. “Now!” At that, they shuffled their feet to their rooms and you could hear the faint slam of their doors.

As soon as it was quiet once more, you fell to the closest seat next to you because your knees gave out. Heart pounding in your chest, you took a deep, shaky breath and ran your hands through your Y/H/C hair.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered under your breath, trying to clear your head, once again. This wasn’t supposed to happen; Dean wasn’t supposed to hate himself; Sam wasn’t supposed to be an ex-blood junkie; their whole family wasn’t supposed to be dead. None of this was supposed to be happening.

A fluttering sound of wings made you raise your head and look around for the noise. Your eyes landed on the silhouette of a man in a trenchcoat, blocking the doorway of the library. You went back to your previous position, already knowing who the new character was in the room.

“Hey, Cas,” you said in a low tone, trying to keep quiet for the boys. They didn’t need to be out here; they already had enough on their plate.

“Hello, Y/n,” he replied in a equal tone but huskier. “Where are Sam and Dean?”

You sighed. “I sent them to bed. They’re in trouble.”

A chuckle came from Cas’s body and he walked over to where you sitting, pulling a chair out next to you.

“That is very motherly of you,” Cas said sincerely. This made you raise your head again. You rose a questioning brow.

“Motherly?” you scoffed. “Please, I’m just trying to keep this family from falling apart. Motherly is not what this is.”

Cas nodded and stayed quiet. You looked at the stone clock above the fireplace and sighed even more when you saw that it was 2:36 a.m. and you haven’t been in your own bed for at least two weeks. You had been on the road with the Winchesters’ hunting nonstop. This was the first time you had been home and it was a disaster.

“I heard about the deals they made.” You looked up in surprise but then resettled when you remember that he had some type of angelic supernatural hearing.

“Yeah. That’s what they got in trouble for. They were fighting about what to do and then it just got worse,” you admitted with honesty. There was no point in lying to Cas; he would find out the truth eventually.

“I don’t know how to help them, Cas,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill over and along your cheeks. “This hasn’t ever happened before. And look at how they’re acting towards to each other. It’s like a measuring contest of who can throw themselves into a pit of fire first.”

Cas’s eyes darkened into a deep, Caribbean blue and he looked at you with something dancing in them, as well.

“Y/n,” he said gravelly, “there may be a way we can save them.”

Your heart pounded through your body and you could feel your eyes widen. “How?”

Cas shook his head. “Sam and Dean won’t like this.”

“I don’t give a damn what they like. If it saves their life then they can bite me,” you spat. Realizing how harsh you sounded, you softened your tone and tried again. “Cas, I have to save them. What is it?”

He took a deep breath and said, “You can become an angel.”

You stared at him with confusion. This wasn’t even close to what you expecting.

“What?”

Cas sighed and shook his head. “An Angel. The only way you can save both Sam and Dean is if you become an Angel.”

“Cas, that’s not possible. Humans can’t just turn into angels. They have to be created by G一”

“No. That’s not true,” he said, cutting you off. “Angels can be made by God himself but not always.”

You stared blankly at Cas and thought that maybe he was sick, if angels could get sick. But something in those flashing eyes of his said otherwise.

“For a human to become an angel, they have to go through stages of God’s will; completely tasks and showing true faith and loyalty,” he explained, something dragging down his tone.

“And how do I do that?” you asked with caution.

He looked down at his hands and bit his bottom lip. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t looked that far into it. I need to know if you’ll go through the trials to become an angel.”

Doubt was nibbling at the back of your mind which made you worry about what this feeling was meaning. “What about Sam and Dean? What do I tell them?”

“You don’t,” he said dangerously. “Y/n, you can’t tell them. If they found out, they wouldn’t allow it to happen. The Winchesters would let themselves die first before anyone could try and save their life.”

You tossed the idea over and over in your mind. Something didn’t seem right; the twisting feeling in your gut was obviously a sign saying that it wasn’t right. But it was Sam and Dean. They were your family. Your everything. They had sacrificed themselves for you so many times that it was like it was a new job.

You looked over at Cas, who had been sitting quietly and patiently waiting for your answer. Pushing past the sickening feeling in your stomach, you nodded. “Okay. I’m in.”

I want to write a book and make the main girl character end up with the totally misunderstood villian guy when the story alluded to the girl ending up with the likable hero. Then everyone will know how us noncanon shippers feel when our dreams are crushed.

lordmxrphy asked:

here's a prompt so sweet it will make your teeth ache "we end up stopped next to each other at the same red-light every day and you caught me singing at the top of my lungs so now we take turns lip-sync serenading each other every morning who are you" (not mine, i have no idea where i found it:) you asked for a fluffy prompt well HERE YA GO<3)

MIA you are an angel, this prompt is adorable, and I hope I did it justice!


If Bellamy Blake had a weakness (and that was still up for debate) it was his love of old school Bon Jovi, and his inability to sit in silence while it played. If Livin’ On A Prayer was on, he considered it a crime not to sing along, which is how he found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, mouth wide open as he belted out the chorus of “Ohhhh”s from the inside of his car.

It was clear that she was laughing, but she didn’t look away so he didn’t either, and before he knew it he was singing about how “Tommy’s got his six string in hock,” taking one hand off the steering wheel to mime the actions as he looked directly at her.

It wasn’t until half way through the next chorus that a car behind him honked, startling both of them into looking forward and realizing that their light had turned green somewhere in the middle of his performance. 

Running a hand through his hair, he focused back on the road and drove away, though he couldn’t help but think back on her smile for the rest of the morning.

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writing-frenzy asked:

So, I've joined the 'I wish' wagon, hope you don't mind. I wish you would write a fic where Luffy has an interesting talent, like maybe he can sing amazingly, is talented with languages, just something no one would expect, and because of this skill, he ends up changing some things.

(Please don’t send me anymore. I still have a few to get through but I’m not taking more than that.)

The singing thing, unfortunately, I’ve seen in way too many KHR fics where Tsuna is a ridiculous uke with an amazing singing voice that attracts everyone, so every time I see something like this, it makes me think of that and it just turns me off. Like, if the singing can be more naturally fitted in (ie. Persona A is the singer in a bar, Person B plays the piano or something, fic takes place in the bar with plot, etc) instead of just thrown in and sticks out like a sore thumb and makes no sense being there in the first place, then I’m all for it, but otherwise, just no.

The languages is interesting, like maybe anywhere the Straw Hat Pirates go, Luffy knows the local language, and his crew would be pretty amazed because normally, Luffy isn’t one for studying at all. Zoro takes it in stride, he joined up first so he’s known since practically the beginning, and honestly he doesn’t much care, his captain is the most surprising guy in the world, and knowing a lot of languages can only help on their journey. Nami would be miffed at first but curious too, and somewhat shocked, especially when Luffy proves to be able to speak to monkeys and turtles just as well as people. But she’s pragmatic so anytime she goes to bargain for supplies, she takes Luffy along if whatever market they’re in might speak in other languages and she doesn’t want to be cheated or mistaken when she can only speak through hand gestures. Having Luffy there ensures a translator who knows exactly what those sniggering shady-looking merchants are muttering about.

The others get over it one by one soon enough after the initial surprise. Considering Luffy’s monstrous strength and devil’s luck and astounding ability to pull through just about any impossible crisis they’re faced with, speaking multiple languages hardly makes the top of the list.

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