KK3454

"Okaay, so you're telling me you're going to meet some random person - and take note that you only know them by their username - and spend the whole day with them?" Hanji had Levi on speaker, her hands busy typing up a report for work. She swiveled around in her chair and sighed loud enough for Levi to sense the disappointment in her voice, and in response groaned. "We have a lot in common, okay? Plus. It's a public place. They're not gonna murder in pure daylight." Levi took a look at himself in the mirror. Was a button-up too formal? Should he just pull on a hoodie and jeans and call it a day? Aw, fuck it. He already went through the troub

The first time it happened, you barely even noticed it. You had always loved the impala, almost as much as Dean did. If Sam was fond of it, and Dean obsessed with it, then you were appreciative and affectionate. You couldn’t imagine riding in anything else. From the body, to the leather seats, to the trunk space (roomy even for the King of Hell), to how she handled, ‘Baby’ was perfection. It was a classic from the 60’s, had gotten destroyed by a tractor trailer, and still managed to haul your asses across the country. But needless to say, you never imagined that a car would return those affections. The instances beg

“Cas do you hear that?” “Hear what (y/n)?” He asked as he watched you leaning against the vending machine, stroking the glass. “That Rice Krispie treat, it’s calling my name,” you said staring down at the shiny blue packaging. Cas tilted his head to the side, confused at your words. He was very relieved when Dean walked by on his way to the Impala. “Dean, I believe something is wrong with (y/n). She claims that that snack is attempting to converse with her.” Dean just laughed and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “She’s just hungry and needs her sugar fix. Which one d

Summary: You and the boys are starving and you get an idea on how to get free food. After a good five hours of being cramped in the Impala, Dean decided to pull over to one of the many rest stops that lined the highway. This spot was simple, just a little picnic table surrounded by trees. As soon as the car stopped you and Sam hopped out, both eager to stretch your legs.   “Are we almost there at least?” you asked as you paced back and forth. “Still have about 3 more hours,” Dean answered from inside the car as he searched for a radio station he liked.   “Ugh,” you and Sam groaned in unison.   “It w

“If there’s just another room of files behind this door I’m gonna punch Sam in the face,” you said as Dean searched for the right key for the bunker door. “What! Why would you do that? And why me, why not Dean?” Sam said offended. “Because you’re closer. And Dean’s face is too pretty to punch.” Hearing this, Dean turned from the door to give Sam a triumphant grin which was returned with a glare. “But don’t worry Sammy you’re still pretty too,” you said pinching his cheeks.   “It’s too late (y/n),” he replied sarcastically as he put a hand

(If you'd like some details on why this now has another part OR why I take forever and a day to update my stories please read the description) (Warning for strong language and sensitive topics) “I heard her soulmate used to beat her. That’s why she was so much for helping Marco.” “You know she transferred in halfway through her sophomore year. Rumour is that was because she had to stay out of school while she was pregnant. Her soulmate knocked her up and then bailed on her when he found out.” “Some people told me that the Laser thing was her soulmate’s idea. He got rid of his and she was so angry

Warning: Language __   It was astonishing how a few simple emails could tilt the solid foundation you had been treading on for months. Not only did the perpetual raincloud that had formed above your head completely soak you in anxiety and new found fear, it ate away at the happiness simple moments used to bring. The constant jitters and uneasy stomach had begun to take a toll on your usually charming and bright features. Ink colored bags hung beneath your eyes, barely covered by the make-up you rarely ever touched. Even your work began to suffer, bringing an end to your vividly creative streak that had been bursting from your fingers the mo