#mine:fate

[kanamesengoku]

[caitlinsgirl]

Reader drunk texting caitlin

Summary: caitlin and the narrator are childhood friends. narrator joins coworkers on a night out despite not wanting to go.

Word count: 820ish

author's note: something quick i wrote while wasting time at work <3 thank you sm for requesting it's very inspiring

tags: alcohol, clubs, taylor swift

 A Rose by Any Other Name is a Scandal

            Another night, another boring night, another lame night surrounded by folks who could not care less about me. The loud speakers of the club project a bass that shake my bones. My third martini glass sits heavy in my hand as I stare into space. I wish to be anywhere but here. The high-pitched blabbering of the people from my work cut through the noise, but it still sounds like a lump of gibberish to me. I would rather spend my night with anyone but them. Well, maybe not anyone…

 

           How easy it is to agree to plans with people who are not remotely interested in anything I have to say in an important setting. As if showing up to the club in a pretty dress and getting hammered in front of these people would make them appreciate my contribution more when the workweek starts again on Monday. At least God has given me the brief relief that they appear more engrossed with whatever nonsense the other has to say, rather than remembering I tagged along and sit just a few feet away.

            I down the rest of my drink and get up from my seat to approach the bar. I’m sure another one would make this night a little easier for me to stomach. Just one more. The bartender notices me and his mouth moves, as if asking me a question. The noise makes it impossible for me to make out what his words are, but I nod in hopes that he is asking to make me another drink.

heyyy hows it going so far?

            My phone lights up with a message from one of my dearest girls, I mean friends, I mean she is a friend who is a girl… nothing inaccurate about that. On the speakers, the song ended and a familiar tune starts up loud as ever: It feels like a perfect night, to dress up like hipsters… Seriously. It's like the world is taunting me.

            they're playing ur song at this club

            My fourth drink in front of me appeared as if it was out of thin air. The retreating bartender appears like a vanishing magician from this angle. His latest act: fueling my future hangover. My stomach buzzes with butterflies and alcohol as I stare at her contact name on my phone: Catilin Elizabeth.

She had asked me to hang out with her earlier in the week, only it was after I had already made plans with these coworkers. I felt obligated to stick to my original commitment, despite heavily disliking my coworkers and greatly liking…

what song?

            I always felt I was too obvious around her. The media has recognized me as a friend who is constantly around Caitlin, the ordinary girl who attends every home game, and often attends away games. To her, the gleam in my eye registers as nothing more than the look of one of her oldest friends. To the observant fans on the internet, they recognize the almost life-long longing that I have yet to admit to myself. It started when we both bonded over our shared love for Taylor Swift as young girls. Over a decade, I sent her links and lyrics of my favorite songs that reminded me of her. My excuse: she likes these songs, too.

            wise men once said wild winds r death to teh candle

            a rose by any otherrrr name is a scandal

            My fingers poured out the words from the latest song that has been on my mind. It feels impossible to admit the way I feel, not to her, not to myself. Caitlin goes through enough scrutiny in the media. If I said what was in my heart out loud, it could end really, really, really badly. Earth-shatteringly horrible. If we had a falling out and the world found out one of her life-long friends stopped showing up to her games, they would run with the worst assumptions to paint her in an evil light, like they always have.

theres no way theyre playing that one in the club rn 🤣

            I started giggling into my cup at the sight of her message, like a crazy woman standing on the corner of a street. The alcohol causes my vision to darken in this already-dim establishment. Electricity runs up and down my stomach and I cannot tell if it is from the martinis or from her.

            shes the albatrossssss 🦅she is here to destroy you

okay, do u want me to pick u up now?

            I looked back at my coworkers, who disappeared into non-existence. Are they seriously bar hopping, without even asking me if I wanted to tag along? If I had a ride? If I felt okay being left alone here?

            they lef tme alone here:(

fucking morons

i'm on my way

            Neither of us can admit the feelings in our hearts to ourselves, let alone to each other. But I cherish the quiet understanding intertwined in her knee-jerk reaction to drop everything and come save me.

thank u my pretty lady

[tarydarrington]

The last of the Nein shuts their door for the night, and Caleb starts counting.

After one minute, Essek steals a glance at him over the top of his book. Caleb meets it with a raised eyebrow, and he retreats with a pleased smirk buried between the pages.

At five minutes, Caleb sets his own book down on the table with a stretch and a contented hum. "How is your reading?"

Essek turns the page. There is something deliberate in the way he moves his fingers that suggests he knows the way Caleb is watching. "Dull," he says mildly. "Have you made any progress on the amplification we spoke of?"

They discuss their research until the fifteen minute mark, at which point Caleb's hand finds its way atop Essek's knee. Twenty minutes, and it's traveled to his thigh. Twenty-five, and Essek begins to thread his fingers through the ends of Caleb's hair, twice as scandalous.

Twenty-nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.

"I think it is likely our friends have settled--"

"Good."

Then Caleb climbs halfway into Essek's lap and is dragged the rest of the way, and this is what he’s been itching for all day.

“H–” is probably intended to be a hello, but Caleb kisses it out of his mouth. The little sound that replaces it is sweet enough to swallow.

"I have missed you," comes out hoarse when the two of them can bear to part long enough for words.

Essek gives him a fond hum and leans up to rest their foreheads together. "I have missed you, as well," he echoes. "Dearly."

Essek has learned to be handsy when drunk - a very intriguing development that Caleb intends to explore to the fullest. To celebrate the Mighty Nein’s reunion, they’ve all gotten into the Brenattos’ wine cellar tonight, a fact which is clear from the way Essek’s hands are straying. It has been a long time since Caleb last felt this warm.

“Hmm.”

Caleb bites back a bereft sigh as Essek pulls back. He’s wearing his thinking face - a very, very attractive one, but perhaps not the one Caleb would choose at this moment.

“Regarding the spell,” he says. “Have you considered compensating for the larger area of effect by increasing the– Caleb.”

“Hmm?” Caleb hums into the hollow of Essek’s throat.

“Are you listening?”

“Hmm.”

The sound that escapes him when Essek takes a handful of his hair and pulls until they’re eye to eye is positively obscene. The look on Essek’s face is one of fond exasperation - but notably, he doesn’t let go.

“The components.”

“Ja.”

“Have you considered increasing the quality?”

“Ja.”

“By what factor?”

Caleb manages to stumble over his words only once as he tells him. Essek clicks his tongue. He rattles off a suggestion that is certainly very clever. Later, Caleb will be happy to absorb it all in great detail; just now, it’s easier to pay attention to the clipped, deliberate way his accent shapes the words than to the meaning of the words themselves.

“Caleb.”

“Hmm, ja?”

Oh, the way Caleb has mussed Essek’s hair is evident when he shakes his head.

“You are terrible, are you aware?”

Caleb grins. “I am–” and he pauses for emphasis– “drunk.” He presses one finger to Essek’s lips–very warm, very soft, they ought to be kissed a great deal more–before he can reply. “On both the wine and the company.”

Essek is welcome to roll his eyes as dramatically as he wishes, and takes the opportunity - but there is no hiding the flush across his face.

“Fool,” he murmurs.

Caleb retracts his finger. "Oh?"

In soft apology, Essek brushes a thumb over Caleb's lower lip and chases it with a kiss.

"Bright man," he whispers on warm breath. Another kiss, less chaste this time, and it seems the spell is forgotten. "Brilliant man."

There is little else to do but kiss him back.

It goes very nicely, for a while. Hands find bare slivers of skin, shared breath mingles between them, and everything tastes vaguely of wine. At this moment, the world could be vacant save for the two of them.

Then the bottom stair creaks, and both of them snap their heads toward the stairwell where Fjord stands frozen like a child with his hand stuck in the cookie jar.

For a moment (three seconds, four, five), no one so much as breathes.

Then Fjord squeaks a whispered, "Sorry," and the tension collapses.

Somewhat surprisingly, Caleb does not find himself evicted from Essek's lap. He had imagined that, in a situation like this, the touch-shy modesty of their early courtship might shine through again. Instead, Essek’s hand stays firmly on his shoulder, gaze so imperious as to dare Fjord to say something untoward, reminding Caleb very much of a cat who has just taken a tumble from the windowsill and means to silence any witnesses.

For his part, Fjord looks as though he would rather be anywhere else.

“So sorry, I just– my throat was very dry, and I– there’s water down here. Downstairs. In the kitchen. Did not know that you two were…” He clicks his tongue twice to illustrate, then appears to regret it immediately. “I’m going to…”

He points back toward the stairs and begins edging back the way he came.

“Fjord.” Essek’s sharp voice stops him in his tracks. There’s something of the cool demeanor of the Shadowhand in the way he nods toward the kitchen. “Go and get your drink.”

Caleb will wait until Fjord is out of earshot before begging Essek to take that tone of voice with him. He is still very much in Essek's lap, however, and the amusement in Essek's eyes as they shift back to Caleb says that other parts of him are already asking.

In the kitchen, the sound of rattling glass and ceramic is followed by a muffled curse, and Essek presses a hand over his eyes.

“We should have retired to the tower.”

Caleb hooks one hand behind Essek’s neck, rubbing his thumb in what he hopes are comforting circles. For just a moment, Essek’s posture stiffens at the touch as his eyes flick to the doorway. Then, with a sigh, he relaxes. It’s lucky that Fjord is downstairs rather than Beauregard; she would never let Caleb live down the mawkish smile on his face.

“Forgive my impatience,” he murmurs.

Essek gives him a look. “I am as much at fault as you are,” he admits. With another sigh, he rakes a hand down his face. “They will all know by the end of the night, won’t they?”

“No, no!” Fjord whisper-shouts from the doorway, and Caleb’s thumb stills on Essek’s neck as they both turn to look again. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He mimes locking the corner of his mouth, then tossing the invisible key over his shoulder. To Essek’s credit, his sigh is released so slowly as to be imperceptible to anyone but Caleb.

“I, uh…” Fjord gestures toward the stairs with his water glass. “Sleep well! If you’re planning on sleeping? Don’t answer that. I don’t know why I said that. Goodnight!”

Caleb half wonders if he’s about to Far Step up the stairs in his haste. Instead, he retreats on his own two feet, leaving the two of them in silence again.

Atop deflating shoulders, Essek’s head falls forward until his forehead knocks into Caleb’s chest. Caleb pats him on the back, wondering just how thoroughly the moment has slipped away from them. He runs a finger down the bumps of Essek’s spine, leaning down closer.

“We were in the middle of something, ja?” he murmurs. His free hand finds Essek’s hair. There is a certain way of moving his fingers here that gets Essek keyed up without fail. A moment or two of that, and he ought to be–

Fjord pops his head back into the room, framed by a pair of thumbs up.

"I'm very happy for you!" he stage whispers, and away he ducks again. This time, the sound of footsteps is followed by a door clicking shut.

The silence is so deep as to buzz. He counts Essek’s breaths: slow, steady, warm.

“Well,” says Caleb. “That is thirty seconds.”

For his trouble, he receives a puff of laughter against his chest.

“Cast your tower, Widogast,” Essek says– and oh, he had certainly worked out how much Caleb enjoyed that tone. “I find that I’m short on patience.”

He straightens until their faces are no more than an inch apart, and Caleb fights down a shiver at the spark in his eyes. His wand is in his pocket, the stained glass and granite in a pouch discarded on the coffee table, the cat tucked into a pouch in his jacket.

It will take one minute.

[felurin]

Fate Zero +  The Command Spells 

[anna-kendrick]

holding my breath ('til i can say all of the words i wanna say)

Beca goes home with Chloe for thanksgiving.

For @beca-mitchell​

Read on AO3, or below.

Chloe regrets asking the moment it comes out of her mouth.

“Come home with me.”

It's not that she doesn't want to bring Beca—her wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year—home to visit her family, it's more the fact of how do you tell your wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year that you didn't actually tell your parents that you two were dating because they're homophobic.

Yeah, she has a slight problem.

Chloe wasn't even sure if Beca would even say yes to begin with. It's her third year at Barden, and her third thanksgiving that she'd be spending on campus. Rather than taking a trip back to Seattle to visit her mother, Beca had explained that she prefers her alone time in the comfort of her room, away from all the reminders of her rocky childhood. Chloe gets it.

But more selfishly than not wanting to leave her girlfriend back in Atlanta alone—aka with most of the Bellas and very much not alone—Chloe didn't want to spend a week away from Beca. That's what brings them to this very moment.

Beca’s clearly taken aback by the question, and Chloe finds the slight blush that's creeping across her cheeks absolutely adorable.

“You're serious?” This is her out, Chloe thinks. Make it sound less appealing, tell her the truth, or just completely take back the offer and—

“Totes serious.” Well fuck.

The smug grin that grows on Beca’s face is enough to vanish all her worries for the moment. Chloe’s quick to reflect one back as Beca pulls her in for a kiss, a version of a ‘yes’ in her own, sweet language.

When Beca mumbles an “I love you,” against her lips, Chloe feels her knees go weak.

***

She doesn't bring it up.

It's sitting in the back of her mind at all times in the weeks following, but she doesn't bring it up.

Beca's seemingly excited to go on this trip to Portland. She says she's never been, and Chloe finds herself looking forward to showing her all of the places where she grew up. She ignores it when Beca tells her that she's excited to see her parents again, and jokingly teases her that she thinks they like her better.

Beca really has no idea.

It's on their final descent when Chloe realizes her mistake. She feels Beca’s hand squeeze in her own, looking over to see her wearing a soft smile—one of comfort and warmth—as if Beca could read her mind. She wishes it were true, it would make things so much easier.

But Beca simply mouths ‘you’re okay,’ and attributes Chloe’s nervous energy to flight anxiety. That’s truly the least of her worries right now, honestly the plane crashing to the ground seems like it could be a better scenario to what she’s going to have to do. Easier, and chances are less painful, too.

Beca squeezes her hand again, waiting for Chloe to squeeze back—their own little form of communication, a way for Chloe to say ‘I’m okay,’ without saying it aloud. Chloe shakes herself from her morbid thoughts, and kisses Beca’s cheek instead, before nuzzling herself into Beca’s shoulder. She feels herself relax slightly as Beca drops her head onto hers, and lets out a quiet hum.

She knows she's messed up. She goes over all the possible outcomes in her head as she watches other passengers deboard the plane. It's the one where she breaks Beca’s trust, and her heart that sticks out the most to her.

Beca never lets go of her hand as they walk off the plane. Chloe can hear her speaking, probably talking about all the new music ideas she thought of on their long flight over, but she can't make out any of the words—she's too lost in her own mind.

“Chlo?” She’s snapped out of her non stop reel of scenarios when Beca stops in place, tilting her head in concern. Beca knows her so well, it makes her want to cry. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lies, and offers a smile. It seems to satisfy Beca, who grins back and squeezes her hand again gently before going to resume their trail to the baggage claim.

This is it. She has to do it.

“Bec, wait—” Her voice catches in her throat when Beca looks back, eyes full of questions and concern—so patient and so loving. She thinks she might throw up.

She lets go of Beca’s hand.

“They don't know you’re my girlfriend. Please don't tell them, I’m sorry.” Chloe takes a deep breath, fighting back her tears, because God forbid she cries in the middle of this damn airport.

One glance at Beca’s face and her heart feels like it's being crushed inside her chest. She can't say anything else, she can't even look at her.

“Um— Our bags, lets go get our bags.”

***

They meet Chloe’s parents outside of the airport about a half hour later, the silence that had been deafening between her and Beca finally breaking.

Alice greets Beca with a smile and a tight hug. “We’re so happy Chloe was able to talk you into coming home with her.”

“She didn’t have to say much, I’m glad to be here. Thanks for letting me stay with you guys.” Beca says it so sincerely, it only makes Chloe feel worse.

“Please, Beca, you know you’re a part of the family. You can visit anytime, even without this one here.” Dale points to Chloe, giving Beca a wink and one of his signature Beale smiles. Beca giggles and looks over to her Chloe with a soft smile.

Chloe turns to look out the window instead.

The drive to the Beale family home is longer than Chloe remembers—louder too, as her dad sings along obnoxiously to the songs on the radio, and her thoughts continue to echo inside of her head. Beca’s more silent than usual though, and Chloe takes the risk of glancing over to check on her.

Beca’s the one peering out the window now, headphones plugged in as she listens to her own music. It almost makes Chloe smile, just seeing Beca next to her, as they drive through her hometown. The feeling is fleeting however, as Chloe takes note of Beca chewing the skin on her thumb—a nervous habit most likely brought on by all of the shit Chloe sprung on her at the airport. She wants nothing more than to reach over and pull her hand away, entangle their fingers together and squeeze Beca’s hand tightly.

She meets her mothers gaze in the mirror, and immediately realizes how bad of an idea this was.

***

It’s later that night—after Chloe had spent ten minutes convincing, more like begging, her mother to let Beca sleep in her room upstairs and not in the basement

(“It’s freezing down there. I’ll just make a bed for myself on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chloe.”)

—that Beca finally broaches the subject.

“Chloe?” She hears Beca whisper through the dark. She lays silently, debating whether or not she should answer, or pretend to be asleep and hope that Beca lets it go—she already knows what she's about to ask.

“Baby, I know you're awake.” She could insist that she is asleep—continue to hold her breath and fight back the tears that are already pricking from behind her eyelids—but she knows that Beca knows her better than anyone else, knows that Beca’s worried about her from the way that her hand now softly brushes through her hair.

“Chlo—”

“Yeah, I'm awake.” Chloe whispers, rolling around to face her girlfriend. She feels the guilt swirl in her stomach immediately with just one look at the sad eyes in front of her.

She knew it was coming, but when Beca mumbles “Why didn't you tell them? I—I don't mean to pry, I’m sorry, I just—Are you okay?” tears immediately spill from her eyes, and she has to choke back the sob that threatens to come out.

It makes her heart clench to think about how far her and Beca have come since that day at the activities fair. It had taken so long to get Beca to open up to her, to even just accept a hug from her. It makes her sick to think about how disappointed her parents would be if they walked in on the two of them at this moment—their daughter wrapped up in her girlfriends arms as Beca continues to rub her back soothingly.

She feels so fucking guilty. A disappointment to both her family, and towards the woman she loves. She hates herself for it.

Beca's hands feel so soft against her cheeks as she holds them and lightly brushes her tears away. It's dark in the room, but she can still clearly make out Beca’s features in the moonlight that spills in from the window. Beca looks beautiful, she looks sad, but she’s so beautiful.

“I didn't know how to tell you.” Her voice sounds unrecognizable to her own ears, it's raspy with tears, and she can hear the lie within her own speech. It's not that she didn't know how to, it's that she didn't want to.

How was she supposed to tell her best friend—her girlfriend—that her parents would hate her? How was she supposed to explain that yes, they had met her before and treated her like a second daughter, but as soon as they found out Beca was more than just a friend, they'd look at her with pure disgust and detest? How was she supposed to bring that up in a conversation where Beca’s telling her that her father has been putting more effort in, that he's happy for the two of them and that he’d like to have both over for dinner one night?

She's never wanted Beca to feel as if she was a secret, that their blooming relationship was something that Chloe was ashamed of. And now, Chloe doesn't even know why she invited Beca here in the first place, because while reserved, Beca’s the proudest of their relationship, and she can see it in her face right now how much she's hurting.

Chloe knows it's her fault.

“I'm not mad at you.” Beca's smiling softly at her—a sad smile—one of encouragement, or one to try to deter the situation, because she knows that Chloe’ll be upset if Beca shows that she’s upset, Chloe doesn't know. She doesn’t really care either, she just wants to go home. Atlanta home, away from this life she had so happily left behind.

What she does know, is that Beca is one of the most patient, and selfless people she's ever met. She knows she doesn't have to say anything, that she could simply ignore the situation entirely, tell Beca that she's tired, and it'd get dropped. She knows Beca wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready to tell her.

But she also knows that Beca deserves an answer.

“They would hate me if they found out, Bec.” She realizes that it's been a while since she admitted this dark secret of hers aloud. Not since her first year at Barden, when she confided in Aubrey over a bottle of cheap wine.

“It's not that I'm not proud to be with you, I promise. It's just that— I’m scared to lose them. I don't want to lose you, but I can't lose them either, Beca. I'm so sorry.”

She's crying again—she doesn't know if she ever really stopped—but Beca’s soft lips are soon pressed against hers; familiar, comforting, safe.

“You'd never lose me.” Beca whispers against her lips in between kisses, and it's like a blanket of warmth courses through Chloe’s body. It's still crazy to her how in the midst of feeling so sad and confused, Beca can make her feel so loved, make her thoughts that had just moments ago felt so jumbled, suddenly so clear.

“I will tell them.” She states, breaking apart from Beca’s kiss, nodding her head in affirmation.

“You don't have to.”

“I will. Eventually, I will. Maybe not this week, but one day I will.” And Beca’s smile in response is enough for her to know that she’s supported, that Beca will hold her hand through it all.

“I think you're really brave, Chloe.” She doesn't expect that as a response, and she's ready to open her mouth and argue against Beca’s words—tell her that she doesn't feel brave at all—but Beca beats her to it. “No, you really are, and it's one of the things I love most about you. Thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about Beca Mitchell that Chloe finds so captivating. Perhaps it’s the way she smiles so genuinely and so lovingly at her, before she breaks out into a cheeky grin and pulls Chloe back in for another kiss. Maybe it’s the trust that she seems to give Chloe unconditionally, something that she’s seen Beca struggle with so much over the course of knowing her. Beca’s passion, loyalty, determination… Perhaps it’s just Beca’s big heart, that tends to tug on her own, and make her feel weak in the knees.

“You know I love you, right?” Chloe can tell Beca’s getting tired by the pure laziness that’s beginning to leak into her kisses, her heavy hands that are no longer roaming, but holding her close and still against her.

“You’ve told me a few times. I love you, too. I’m fucking exhausted, your family is insane. Sorry that was—”

“Bec, it’s okay.” Chloe laughs softly squeezing Beca’s hand that continues to lay softly on her hip. “They really are, you’re right. But I have you, I think I’m pretty lucky.”

“Oh, my God—you’re gross. So gross. Go to sleep or I’m moving down to the basement.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

[gojosexual]

25 DAYS OF REQUESTS

↪ 「 day 01」Gilgamesh requested by @galeforse​ 

[flyingpurplepeopleeater42]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Gwen & Morgana (Merlin) Characters: Morgana (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Canon Era, Good Morgana (Merlin), Morgana’s Magic Revealed (Merlin), can be interpreted as both romantic and platonic, bc the author cannot differentiate between the two Summary: Morgana runs away from Camelot but Gwen comes to the rescue.

[nadja-antipaxos]

but it’s golden, like daylight | chapter one: that girl is a [censored] problem

Summary:

After protecting her from the Mandarin’s men, Steve Rogers becomes friends with benefits with Tony's little sister, Nicolette Stark. What was supposed to be a little fun becomes much more than what they originally bargained for. Post 2012 Avengers through Endgame.

Preview:

“Holy fuck, there’s a bunch of Avengers in my dressing room,” Nicolette laughs.

“I told you, Cap doesn’t like that kind of talk,” Tony smirks.

“Sorry,” she says in a tone that isn’t apologetic in the slightest. Yep, she’s a Stark.

Check it out on AO3! Thank you! Thank you!

[bisexualrights]

Can’t Help But Smile

Ship: Freewood

Universe: FAHC

Word Count: 850

Part: 1/?

(big big big thank you to @weheistin for motivating me and helping edit this!!)

Ryan is tired, Gavin is in trouble, and there’s not enough whiskey in the world that can help make sense of these feelings

Another long day, another failed heist, and another glass of whiskey. Heists used to be their thing; now it seemed like even getting to the location took longer than the entire process used to. Ryan was beginning to doubt if it was even worth the risk anymore, with all the fumbling around, the almost getting caught every other job, and that stupid smile Gavin would get on his face after messing up yet another alarm deactivation; everything annoyed him at this point. The Gavin thing seemed to be getting to him a lot more recently, if he was being honest. He’s always been an idiot, that much is true, but lately every little thing he does just pissed Ryan off to avail. As he tipped back the rest of the Jim Beam in his glass, he let out a sharp sigh of aggravation. 

“Fuck it, I’m getting too old for this childish shit. I’ve got a good day job, I don’t need this stress anymore,” Ryan mumbled under his breath before setting his glass in the sink and splashing some cold water onto his tired face. He had always been a pretty safe guy. Paid his taxes on time, made sure to water his house plants, never missed a day of work at the tech shop, he was safe. Seems that’s why he was so excited when Michael asked him to join the crew all those years ago: it gave him a sense of danger and excitement; the extra cash didn’t hurt either, but now he was just so tired. 

Going for another round of water to the face, he heard his phone buzzing on the coffee table. Great, it was Gavin. He sighed and picked up the phone, letting out a hefty “What?” as he answered. 

“Geeze, someone woke up on the wrong side of the recliner this morning,” teased that stupid accent of his. 

“It’s 11pm you idiot, what do you want?” he didn’t have the patience for any more fuckery tonight. Attempting to answer, he was drowned out by the sound of gunshots and yelling in the background. “Gavin...what’s going on?” A little out of breath, Ryan heard Michael’s voice now on the line. 

“Hey man, yeah we could use your help, apparently someone didn’t disable the cameras like they thought this morning and the cops are here and shits fucked, so if you could get down here that would be great!” Before Ryan could even ask where the idiots were, the call ended and he was left to his own devices. 

“Hmm, I could just let them deal with it on their own. It’s not my job to clean up Gavin’s messes all the time.” This sounded like a good plan, he could just let them deal with it, either get out of the situation or find a new home in the county morgue, not his problem… Yeah, no, he couldn’t do that. As annoyed and fed up as he was, these were still his friends, so of course it was up to him to put himself at risk once again and help them. He took a swig from the whiskey bottle, grabbed his leather jacket, his mask, and his pistol and headed out the door. 

While neither Michael or Gavin said where they were, Ryan somehow always knew exactly where to look. He had a bad hunch and headed out towards the outskirts of town until he heard the sound of a lot of cops with a lot of guns in the distance. “Goddammit, why did they go back?” Ryan slammed his hands on the wheel in realization that the dumbassess went back to the airplane hanger from the job that morning. They were so goddamn stupid, not only for going back, but for going back without any of them… what could be worth returning to the scene of the crime for? 

Ryan parked a few streets over and ran as fast as he could to the hanger lot. There were at least six LSPD cars surrounding the hanger, and one chopper floating above the building. This would be a lot easier than he anticipated; he was the tech guy after all. He reached into his bag and pulled out his ever so trusty signal jammer. After so many years of evading the cops, taking down one single helicopter was a walk in the park. Just jam the signal, hack into the autopilot controls, and send it straight on down into the unsuspecting members of the LSPD. 

“Fuck yeah!” he proudly exclaimed to himself; this stuff gave him such a thrill, why would he ever want to stop? In the midst of the commotion, ya know the kind a two ton helicopter crashing in a fiery explosion would create, Ryan ran to the back door of the hanger and saw Michael and Gavin hiding behind a Pyro riddled with bullet holes. Michael looked up at Ryan and instead of his usual cheeky grin, his face was covered in fear. Gavin wasn’t moving. 

[chloebeale]

SEVEN MINUTES ON BECA

RATING: M/E. PAIRING: Bechloe WORDS: 6.9K. SUMMARY: Beca freaks out about sleeping with Chloe, and of course pulls away, because when does she not? Staying away is easier said than done, of course. NOTES: Seven minutes final chapter, finally! (I’d be more sorry about this gif than I am, but I’m just not.)

EXCERPT:

Beca doesn’t need distractions.

Not that a two-time hookup could really be considered any kind of real distraction, she supposes. As Beca wakes to the sight of what is very much not her dorm room, though, she is struck by the realization that she may have something of a problem.

It takes her a moment to register her surroundings at first. The fact that she can stretch out a leg and have it not immediately hang over the side of the bed is her first big clue—one thing Beca seriously misses from home is the space to stretch out in a double bed. This double bed, however, does not belong to her. Regardless, it is the second consecutive morning she finds herself waking in it. Unlike yesterday, Beca finds that she is alone.

Despite the shield of the closed drapes, the morning light is almost blinding to her. The unforgiving taste of vodka still lingering on her tongue, she realizes, is likely why.

As far as Beca is aware, she hadn’t even been that drunk last night. Wednesday nights are not exactly prime party nights, after all. Then again, at not-quite nineteen years old, she is really not the most seasoned drinker, so perhaps it makes sense that she is suffering. Either way, as she pushes herself upright in the bed that decidedly does not belong to her, the previous night’s events replay in her foggy mind.

Beca had not been so drunk that she would forget the way she and Chloe had practically fallen through the front door of the Bellas house together, desperate hands tugging at the fabric between them, and made their way messily through the house and up to Chloe’s bedroom.

Distinctly, Beca remembers full lips pressing harshly against her own, the feeling of teeth gently grazing down against the smooth skin of her neck. Although there is no mirror close by, as Beca lifts a hand to coast her fingers over the exact patch, she is positive she is touching at least a faint mark.

“Shit,” Beca murmurs in a somewhat hoarse voice, glancing down to the sight of her exposed upper half. The bottom half is still covered by the comforter, but she knows already that there is nothing underneath. All she has to do is glance over to her left, to the sight of her jeans and discarded panties in a small heap on the floor, to confirm as much.

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[kanamesengoku]

[whiskeycherrypie]

have you ever read any fics where sam and dean have to pretend to be together for a case or end up together because of a love spell or fuck or die or something, really any circumstances that force them together, where they aren’t both (conveniently) secretly in love with each other anyway? i’m so interested in reading a fic dealing with the fallout from something like that but don’t know how to search for one

Some Kind of Strange Magic by lustmordredIt may not have to mean anything, but they aren’t just two guys stuck in an impossible situation. They’re them and uncommonly attached to one another, so it will mean something and they both know it. This will change them and Dean can’t really blame Sam for suddenly being afraid to move.

Bad Blood by astolat"Fuck me or I'm going to die isn't the world's best pickup line."

Who Looks Inside, Awakes Dean finds himself the victim of spirit which drains life by inducing erotic nightmares. There’s only one solution, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all… 

Crossing the Bridge by rivkatfor svmadelyn's prompt: I'd love to see some Sam/Dean, or, ah, Sam/Lucifer on the theme of an Indecent Proposal. The story came out as Lucifer + Sam/Dean.

Oh, So You're a Virgin by ArchOfImagineDean and Sam have been caught by a group of virgin sacrificing cannibals. Dean doesn't have much of a plan, but Sam has the answer.

I also wrote one like that:

unholy bones by whiskeycherrypie“Why would he mind that? No offense, Cas, but everything we've seen angels do doesn't really fall in line with what we think of as Christian morality, you know.” Sam, Dean and co. find a solution to the Michael problem. 

they don’t end up together here:

Alcohol and a Can-Do Attitude by BlindSwandiveSam and Dean are hit with a fuck-each-other-or-die curse, so they handle it the way two straight, totally uninterested-in-each-other-sexually brothers would.

[tarydarrington]

“I am pretty fucked, Essek.”

He doesn’t intend to let the spell go, but it unravels along with his concentration as the pain becomes overwhelming. Wincing, he lets his arm fall back to the ground. He’s been trained to take this. Nothing ambitious for a moment. Just breathe.

Prompt: Caleb and Essek get separated in Aeor and Caleb gets blinded.

[deanseths]

Author: bulletwithbutterflywings Pairing: Dean Ambrose / Seth Rollins  Timeline: Post-Raw 11 February 2019 Summary:

❛ Sometimes the people who break your heart are the only ones who can put it back together. ❜

Part 2 of the series ‘The things I never told you’

Read on AO3

[ruripyon-blog1]

“...and Yuzuru will respond in English as well.” (x)

[stsebastiens]

“The Statute of Secrecy is very clear on such matters." replies Piquery. "He is responsible for the death of at least one no-maj, discounting all the others he may have injured tonight. I can only promise that he will be treated as the law commands.”

Credence avoids death at the hands of the Aurors in the subway tunnel only to end up in a MACUSA cell with a sentence on his head.

hi so i never write ever but this has been a draft for over six months and i figured i’d publish it and then maybe update when im dead