that is one way to steal a whiskey

Stupid Question

Enzo Amore one-shot #48 ‘meeting again at a high school reunion au’ This is pure fluff. Requested an age ago by @heyitstatianita​ I don’t really do requests anymore, but I promised myself I would honour the ones I received back before my monumental writers’ block hit, so here is the first of the remaining batch.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (clearly), written about a fictional character as portrayed in the ring and on camera by a real-life person. I feel the need to draw a distinction between the two because there’s been some Discourse on the subject recently. If the real-life wrestler whose character I have written about herein is uncomfortable with it, they are welcome to ask me to take it down. Anyone else is kindly requested to employ a “don’t like it, don’t read it” approach and move along. This here is a little harmless escapism. I hope you enjoy it.

Tagging the crew: @hardcorewwetrash @wwe-smutfics @sjwriteswrestling @fuckyeahbulletclub @withwordslikeweapons @writergrrrl29 @concussed-to-pieces

I’m not big on reunions. The whole ‘blast from the past’ thing doesn’t really do it for me. If you ask me, if people give a crap about each other they stay in touch, and if they don’t, well then they probably weren’t meant to. So being dragged along to my old hometown (which is bad enough on its own, let me tell you) and hauled into a hotel ballroom stuffed full of people I’d barely even spared a thought for over the last ten years, was about as far from my idea of a good time as it’s possible to get.

And yet, there I was. With my little nametag on and everything, complete with tiny reproduction of my yearbook photo, because nothing says ‘we’re intelligent, mature adults’ like breaking the ice over and over with the same stilted conversation about how “gosh, you look so different now!”

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Defending Your Life

Originally posted by pinkman

Summary: This is for the anon who requested a reader insert for this episode, where the reader takes the stand against Dean instead of Jo. When the you go to kill Dean for Osiris, you reveal that you aren’t actually dead, and Dean begins looking for you. He finds you, and fluff ensues.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,700 (really long b/c at the start it’s basically a re-write, beginning after Dean is kidnapped by Osiris - quotes taken from the show)

Warnings: attempted murder, discussion of reader death, kidnapping, evidence of torture - but also FLUFF

A/N: Sorry this request took so long, anon. Turned out much longer than I expected, hope you like it!

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Vanilla Lips and Cigarette Tips: 10

Yo, it’s your most annoying Bughead Fanfic writer with an update on Vanilla Lips and Cigarette Tips: Chapter 10!

This week I ask a favour where you can suggest if you’d prefer Bughead to have a girl or boy baby! (Commonly, I would go with boy because I had a boy first so it is easy for me but you’re the fans, so you tell me!)

I apologise in advance for angst. But you should all know me by now - I love angst like Betty loves vanilla and Jughead loves her.

Review, please?

Preview under cut because I have babbled on for too long:

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Green is the Hunter

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Request: Dean treats the reader like a little sister, but gets jealous when another guy hits on her (Fluff and possible smut)

Warnings: jealous!dean, smut, car sex (is this a warning?)

Words: 3417 

Note: I missed smut ): hope you enjoy this but-deans-back-tho ! (holy crap this turned out long, sorry!)

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Fic: Fix You (4/5)

A Chris Evans Fanfic

Summary: Chris is surprised when he comes home to an empty house, assuming the kids have gone out. What he doesn’t know is that the biggest shock of his life is waiting upstairs.

Warnings: Angst, language, teen pregnancy

Note: So because this was getting long, there will be a part 5 after all! From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! Thank you for reading, for the messages, likes, reblogs, friendships. Thank you for EVERYTHING. I hope the anticipated part four isn’t too much of a disapointment. :) xx

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please don’t hesitate to let me know!

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Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Part Four

Stepping outside from the well air-conditioned house was a shock in itself to Chris. The excessive humidity was still heavy in the night air, stifling him when he tried to take a courageous breath. He stood with his back inches from the shut front door, at a loss of what to do next.

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At first, Sam is pissed. And he’s hurt. His fists are clenched at his sides as he takes in the sight of his demon brother lounging around in a plush arm chair. The hotel room is trashed with glittery articles of clothing like bras and underwear, overturned chairs, and glass bottles strewn in winding trails over the floor. 

Sam’s breath hitches when Dean’s black eyes hone in on him. He relaxes in his seat with his legs opened invitingly and his chin tilted up smugly. He smiles.

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A Pub on Hawthorne St.

“So, you want to be a writer?” she said. 

I don’t feel like a writer. It feels more like women are poetry and I’m just a plagiarist — stealing each charming moment and calling it my own. 

“Well,” she said, “what was the last thing you’ve written about?”

Maybe it was the way she looked at me with such genuine curiosity — maybe it was the whiskey. Either way, I felt comfortable telling her.

“I have this blog where I write about little moments I have with women,” I said. 

I chuckled to myself as I grabbed my empty glass to chomp on a piece of ice. 

“This is one of those little moments.”

Halloween

Halloween with Sam and Dean

———————————————

Rolling along the highway, you propped your knees up against Sam’s seat in the Impala, one hand in a bad of candies. 

Wrappers littered the floor, and you threw Dean a miniature Snickers. He stuffed it in his mouth, you watched him toss the wrapper back at you.

“Hey!” you laughed and he shrugged his shoulders. Sam rolled his eyes, “Can’t you guys lay off the candy at least until tonight?” he asked, watching both of you rot your teeth.

You chuckled and stuck your tongue out at him through the rearview mirror, watching him roll his eyes at you again. 

You leaned your head against the window, the raindrops raced down. You bet on the smallest raindrop to win against the three huge ones, and it did. 

Dean made a sharp turn, causing your head to bang against the window.

“Ugh” you groaned and Dean just chuckled as you fluttered your eyes closed. 

Halloween will start in a couple hours, and you fell asleep thinking about the costume you bought last week. 

You woke up to the sound of thunder clapping somewhere off in the distance.

“Damnit! Why does it have to rain on Halloween?” you muttered. Dean parked the Impala outside the bunker, “We can have fun on Halloween inside the bunker, Y/N” Dean said and you tugged on the strings of your hoodie, protecting your hair from the rain. 

After waiting for Sam to finally unlock the door you ran inside, practically jumping off the last step.

“What’s the rush?” you heard Dean’s voice shout behind you.

“I have to put on my costume!” you shouted back. Sam refused to dress up this year, at least last year he put on a cowboy hat. 

This year Dean said he wasn’t over-doing his costume, and you were excited to see what he’d wear. 

Pushing aside the clothes in your closet you pulled out your costume. The costume store was almost sold out but you found the perfect CatWoman costume. It wasn’t sexualizing, but damn was it sleek. A black  body suit, black knee boots, a belt and mask. You practically giggled looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling normal. Hunting was pushed aside for tonight 

You smiled before walking back to see what Dean was wearing, and to see if you could get Sam to eat some candy. 

You began walking towards the library when you saw little lights. Running towards the library you realized Sam had decorated it with little warm firefly lights, and there was candy spread across the table, along with some whiskey of course. 

“Oh my god” you whispered, earning a wide smile from Sam. “This is gorgeous” you gave the moose a hug before almost tearing up. “I haven’t celebrated like this in so long” you said and he smiled.

“Well we all deserve a break, let’s start” Sam said and propped his feet up on the table, taking a sip of his drink. “Oh and CatWoman?” he asked, and you furrowed you brows. 

“What? Why?” 

“Well…you’ll see” he said, making you even more confused. 

“Where’s Dean?” you asked after popping some candy corn in your mouth. You were answered by him walking in, wearing a batman cape and mask.

You practically spat your candy out. 

“Dean?”

“CatWoman?” 

All three of you erupted in laughter, Sam was near tears. “Wait guys make out!” he announced and your cheeks turned bright red.

Dean sat down across you and kept stealing glances. 

You unwrapped another chocolate and threw it at Dean who caught it in his mouth.

“Score!” you shouted, and he drank some whiskey.

“Ew!” you exclaimed, “Does that taste good?” you asked.

He slid you his cup, “Try”. You popped a Milky Way in your mouth and downed the rest of his cup. 

“Not bad” you said, feeling it burn down your throat. Dean smiled at you, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “Nothing”. 

The night was spent by telling ghost stories, (real ones), talking about all the past Halloween’s, and eventually Sam got drunk enough to go back to his room. 

Dean let out a burp, making you laugh.

“Hey, how about we trick or treat?” you suggested, expecting no reaction from him.

Instead he smiled and nodded like a child. You ran to your room and grabbed a pillowcase before meeting Dean outside.

“That’s too small” he pointed, but you smiled.

“It’s perfect, come on Batman” you smiled, and Dean drove to a suburban neighborhood. Kids were running up and down the dark street in their costumes, lights were going on and off, and laughing was heard all around.

“Let’s start” you rang the bell and a lovely old couple answered.

“Aw, Henry!” the old lady smiled, “We used to be just like them, a young couple” she said, your cheeks burned red. 

“Oh no, we aren’t a cou-“ you started and Dean cut you off.

“Yes ma’am, we are. Isn’t she amazing?” he smiled at you and the lady gave an extra handful of gummy candies.

Stepping off the porch you looked up at Dean, “Why’d you say we’re a couple?” you asked.

“We got more candy. Plus your CatWoman and I’m Batman, tonight we’re a couple” he said and you smiled down at the ground, biting your tongue to keep from giggling. 

You followed Dean down the street, even spoke to a girl who also dressed up as CatWoman, giving her a high five.

“Batman is handsome” he laughed and ran, while Dean chuckled.

“Yes he is” you whispered to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing” your eyes grew wide, hoping he didn’t hear. Exhaling you followed him up onto another porch.

“DAD! TRICK OR TREATERS!” a boy yelled and soon a father opened the door. 

“Trick or treat!” you and Dean announced at the same time, getting the seemingly grouchy father to smile.

“Young love” he muttered before closing the door on your face.

This time you swore you saw Dean blush. Smirking you tied the bag and slid into the passenger seat. 

“Let’s see what we got!” Dean said, and the pillowcase was almost full.

“We did good!” you laughed and Dean began driving back to the bunker. You passed Dean enough candy to make a normal man sick, but he just kept eating. 

“I’m exhausted” you announced as you walked back into the bunker. “Trick or treating is more tiring than I remember” you groaned and pulled your boots off, chucking them beside the couch.

Dean slid his mask off, and draped his cape over the couch. 

You walked into your room, and slipped into an old t-shrit and some sweatpants before rejoining Dean in by the couch. 

“I think I’m gonna go to bed” you yawned out. 

“I thought we could watch a movie” he pouted, already nestled into the couch, blanket spread across him.

You squinted your eyes at him before giving in. Plopping down next to him you tucked your knees in and pulled the blanket over you.

“Here, move in” he pulled you closer until you placed your head on his shoulder.

“You made a great CatWoman” he whispered.

“You made an awesome Batman” you laughed and he wrapped an arm around you. 

After some silence, Dean continued, “You know…I wouldn’t mind actually being a couple” he said, making your eyes go wide. You looked up at him immediately.

“I would like that” you smiled.

Dean placed his lips on yours, and you smiled into the kiss.

“This years Halloween was pretty good” you laughed after.

“Pretty good?” he asked, mocking offense.

You smiled and nestled up to him, “Alright, it was perfect” you smiled and slowly drifted into sleep, feeling Dean’s steady breathing. 

 

Don’t Look for Me

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Dean

Word Count: 1,344

Warnings: None (I think)

Beta Babes: @deathtonormalcy56 and @blueyedpandas

Read Part 1: Don’t Tell Sam

A/N: Yay I did it! And relatively close to when I actually wanted to post. 


The weeks following (Y/N)’s disappearance were quiet. Dean went on lockdown, barely speaking to Sam and leaving a trail of empty liquor bottles in his wake. (Y/N) didn’t really give him a timeline on how long she had which left Dean constantly staring at his phone like it was a grenade, ready to explode at any time. He was just waiting for the call that his little sister was taking her last breath.

Sam however went into hyper drive. He read the letter (Y/N) left him, hell, he read it a thousand times. The phrases ‘we rushed into this’ and ‘I’m not happy here’  were branded into his mind. But the line that hit him the hardest? “I’m just not in love with you anymore”. He didn’t believe it, not because he was in denial, simply because it wasn’t believable. The only way Sam would accept their fate is if he heard it straight from (Y/N)’s mouth. 

He buried himself in searching for her, tracking every alias, credit card, all the way down to what cars she had a habit for stealing. Sam searched high and low for his (Y/N), staying up for days at a time, just staring at his laptop waiting for something to change. 

Nothing ever did. 

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@kaelen-tyr

For the first time since her victory she had fallen asleep early, only to be waken some time later by a nightmare, one involving a combination of her arena and the fights from the past year. Watching those she loved die whilst she heard the voices of her parents telling her it was her fault. Still dwelling on them she had tried to fall back asleep only to realise that it was most likely not going to happen, dragging herself from the bed and pulling herself into the chair. She had been preparing to just wheel herself through to the lounge room and waste time there, when a last minute though made her steer to the liquor cabinet, stealing a bottle of Isabelle’s finest and grabbing the pack of cigarettes she kept hidden for stressful moments, this being one of them, she slowly made her way to the roof. Once up there, she lit up, eyeing the nightlife beneath her she sighed a little before she grabbed her phone from her pocket and sent a picture of the whiskey and cigarettes with her location and sent it through to Kaelen, figuring the other trainer would be awake, she didn’t want to drink alone. 

Barstool Fairytale

Summary: ~Songfic for The Whiskey, the Liar, the Thief by Patent Pending~ Dan is a thief and Phil is a liar, both boy’s making their way through life miserable and alone. One night they meet and, after sharing a few glasses of whiskey, realise they might have finally found someone to love.

AO3 Link

Genre: Historical AU

Warnings: None really, mentions of alcohol and stealing but that’s it

POV: Third

Words: 1507

Beta: Un-beatad

A/n: Just a quick songfic that I whipped up in a day because I recently discovered Patent Pending and am in love with this song rn. It’s a bit rough and rushed but I hope you enjoy it ^.^

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Alright, here's my first and oddly short chapter to that long fic I teased about months ago (sorry)

This is just a build up, and please take it easy on me I’m still new. 

She Faded Like The Sunshine from His Life

Chapter One

She’s been dead a year, three months, six days, nine hours, forty seven minutes and thirty nine seconds.

Oliver knows the moment she took her last breathe down to the second because in a lot of ways (or at least all the ones that mattered) that was when he drew his last as well.

The thing was, the terrible, awful, tragic and stupid truth was that he hadn’t realized it until she was bleeding out in his arms. When his gaze met hers, as the life seeped out of those vivacious bright blue eyes and he found himself looking into a mirror to the person he wanted to be, at the life he desperately craved. He remembers the devastation, the numbing inundation of emotions that burst through all of his emotional barriers sweeping away every remnant of the restraint he had in keeping her out of his heart. In that moment he realized that this girl, this beautiful, shining beacon of hope, was the light of his life and she was dying in his arms.

She’d looked up at him through her teary eyelashes, and he could see how she saw him. He could see that she’d always seen him. The true man beneath the mask and he could see that she was in love with him for some crazy reason. Felicity Smoak loved him.

And in that moment of heart wrenching clarity he realized that he loved her too. Irrevocably, completely, entirely. He didn’t know when he had fallen in love with her and he didn’t how, but he had.

“Don’t,” he’d said.

Don’t give up. Don’t die. Don’t leave me alone. Just don’t. What he should have said was I love you, don’t leave me I don’t know how to live without you. But the only word that had left his mouth that he could formulate on his sandpaper tongue was Don’t.

Her lips had parted, as she sucked in a shaky breath, her green polka dotted nails flexing around his large callused one where he gripped her like a life line, or like his grip was the line tying her to life. She’d blinked rapidly as though clearing her vision and with her last breath she’d whispered one thing “Don’t run.” And he’d watched as that bright light faded from her eyes stealing the sunshine as it went.

Felicity Smoak died, on a roof top, May 21 2014 after taking Slade Wilson’s sword through the chest to save Sara Lance. For all intents and purposes Oliver Queen died with her.

He looked down at the half empty whiskey in his hand and closed his eyes, shaking off the images of her blond halo of hair streaked with blood, or the way her eyes had looked glassy and sightless as they truly looked through him for the first time. God, she’d stopped seeing him when she was dead.

How fucking messed up was that?

She’d always been there, always loved him and always accepted him until the day that she had died.

And he hadn’t even told her he loved her back, all he’d been able to choke out was “Don’t” .

“Want another?” a voice said breaking through his haze of misery.

Oliver looked up at the bartender. He thought his name might be Rich, not that he’d bothered to actually look at his nametag. He’d been in this bar so much for the last few months that he’d picked it up second hand.

He spent a lot of his time drinking these days, just not at Verdant. There his sister could monitor is alcohol intake and cut him off before he had “too much”. It pissed him off considering whenever he drank he wanted to get drunk. Mind numbing, reality blurring wasted because that was the only time he could stop thinking about her and the only time he didn’t feel like he was being ripped apart from the inside. The only time he could breath, even if they were only shallow breaths.

Oliver shook his head at the man, and threw a wad of bills down on the table. His watch read three o’clock and he figured he’d waited long enough for his mother and sister to give up on waiting up for him, and go to fucking sleep.

He was really tired of coming home to the cavalry at night, there worried eyes and pursed lips making him feel even shittier than he already felt. He knew his drinking bothered his family, just like he knew it had bothered them how far he had receded into himself the past year. They were worried about him. He understood that, and maybe deep down somewhere in the smoking carnage of his broken heart he appreciated that, but usually all he could muster up was annoyance.

It was his life, he could waste it if he wanted to.

Oliver stumbled from the bar stool, ignoring the side eye he was getting from Ryan or Rich or whatever his name was. He was too intoxicated to think straight let alone drive, but Rich/Ryan the bartender never said anything and that was why he kept coming back.

He really didn’t care if he crashed his car anyway. He didn’t care period anymore. What was the point in living life, when she was gone? 

Oliver staggered through the bar and too the door, cutting through the small throng of dancers who occupied the tiny dance floor. This bar was not that big, nor that popular but it did seem to bring in the same little crowd most nights, so it was moderately packed on this Friday night.

Oliver almost snarled when someone bumped into him from the side. The person used enough force to send him stumbling backward a few yards, enough force for him to feel it was intentional in his alcohol soaked brain. He turned around ready to fight, but when he turned the person whoever had bumped into him was gone.

He swallowed his anger, and kept staggering to the door. It wasn’t until he got to the parking lot that he realized his keys were missing. 

Looked like he’d be calling a cab. 

***

And there’s chapter one, like I said it’s short, but there is more to come. Any questions? Feel free to ask. 

One of the things I’ve started loving even more about Alex Danvers after my Grey’s Anatomy binge is the way she carries herself. Chyler Leigh is this tiny little thing, and Lexie Grey is too, but Alex Danvers on the other hand is all wide shoulders and impressive amount of space occupation. And she takes charge, the straight back and wide shoulders isn’t only for show, the character takes charge. She’s on screen and BOOM she is in control. Not simply scene stealing, even though the actress does that too (she literally made me more interested in a Whiskey bottle than Kara’s love life - when put into words, might not be a huge deal, but still, she steals those scenes), but she takes charge in the scene. She projects this confidence that doesn’t feel like show or forced, it just feels reassuring.

Alex Danvers is in control, even when she’s insecure or exposed. Like the way she was in charge of the interrogation scene with Pete from Warehouse 13 (can never remember his name) last season.The way she carried herself around the AssLord, he tries some patriarchal heterosexual romance bullshit and she just shuts his ass down. The way she kicks ass, going up against all these fucking aliens with their alien physiology and weapons. She’s this tiny little thing in a polo shirt with an assault rifle and she’s way taller and more powerful than any of them. The way she squares off against Astra, beyond the sexual tension, there’s that other tension where she’s still actually largely in control. Or even the way she pounces on Maggie once she’s decided she knows what she wants. Nerve racked and the underdog, but Alex Danvers is still wide shoulders, control and leadership, and there’s not even an ounce of bravado in her display of it. 

Having Lexie Grey to compare to just makes it so more noticeable and I can’t begin to describe how much my libidio …my…I…how- much I appreciates that.

karlurbans  asked:

20 - kirk/mccoy!! i'm glad ur star trek trash now too

Jim doesn’t talk in his sleep. Not really. 

They’re more drowsy whispers, words he kisses into Bones’ shoulder when he’s sure he’s fast asleep.

Things like: I love you and I’m sorry I always make you worry about me and are you still mad about that one time I almost died on your watch?

It’s his own private form of confession, a way to delude himself into believing that he’s not lying to him while avoiding a confrontation because deep down he knows the answers to those inquiries and more.

It’s not a nightly routine, sometimes the whiskey he steals from Scotty silences those thoughts and sometimes he actually manages to go to bed with a clean conscience and a soft smile on his face.

And sometimes he’s too much of an idiot to realize that Bones is listening. Letting him pour out his heart before responding. 

The strangest thing is that he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sharp comments. Instead, he turns to face him, looking into his eyes for one long moment during which Jim’s chest feels so tight that it’s almost painful and it only stops hurting when Bones slides their lips together and kisses him until he’s certain he can’t so much as think anymore.