toy shotgun


SPN Hiatus Creations || Week Sixteen: Subtext
 ↳ John Winchester did the best he could.
                                  subtext being his best was absolute crap.

I know we as the SPN fandom like our subtext to be of homoerotic nature, but I thought I try something different.
I’m not sure if this even qualifies. probably not.
but let’s all pretend it does

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High Tide | Chapter 1: If You’ll Have Me

Title: High Tide: An Original, Ed Sheeran Mature Fan Fic | Chapter 1: If You’ll Have Me
Author: @sippin-on-red-wine
Rating: 17+, Mature (Smut comes in at the end of this chapter)
Word Count:  10,478
Author’s Note: This is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction, let alone that of the smutty variety. I started to read it recently and wanted to take a stab at my own story. I am SEEKING FEEDBACK of any and all kinds! Please feel free to drop me a message, an ask, on anon – ANYTHING! I want to know how you like the story, the characters, do you relate to them? What did you like? What is missing? Any requests for future installments? HIT ME UP. Enjoy!

**Please like/re-blog!**


Ed set his glass down on the kitchen counter and poured himself another whiskey, neat. He had lost track of how many he had, though he knew the whiskies were only perpetuating his bad mood. Usually he was a fun drunk, bit of a boozy idiot actually, but that was when he was with his friends. Drinking alone didn’t warrant any celebration. Especially considering the events that had transpired in the last several weeks. Luckily, his mates were due to arrive here tomorrow afternoon.

He strode back upstairs to the master suite of his friend’s summer home in Southport, ME. She had been there when shit really hit the fan and offered up the house to Ed for as long as he needed it. She said it was the perfect place to stay out of the public eye. It was a gated community, the beaches not accessible to the public, and most people only summered there anyway. Labor Day had come and gone, and she assured Ed he wouldn’t be bothered.

He had a few dates to finish up on the Asia leg of his tour and had planned on flying back to London to start work on his next album until he was due to continue touring in the States, and actually be able to spend some time in his own god damned house. But he couldn’t face going home, the home he had built with her, not after what had happened. So he gladly took his friend up on her offer, heading to New England instead.

Ed walked barefoot across the plush carpet toward the electric fireplace. From the bits he heard on the news, it was an unseasonably warm September on the East Coast, but the nights were still really cool. He clicked the fire on and instantly felt a tick better, taking a moment to watch the flames flicker and fade.

He strode over to the big bay window next and, with a different button on the same remote, sent the blinds up. He looked down at the neighboring house, peering into the big, open windows of the living room.

Right, well wasn’t she having a better night than me? Ed looked down and studied his new neighbor. She looked to be maybe in her late twenties, tan skinned and dark hair piled all up on top of her head, rectangular specs perched on her nose. She was wearing tight black leggings and a long-sleeved red T-shirt with “Wisconsin” spelled out in white block lettering.

She walked gracefully into the living room, holding a glass of wine and a very large book. Ed watched her lie back on a black leather couch, whose back was up against the large windows facing him, and slide on some reading glasses that had been left there. Setting her wine down on the table and tossing a throw pillow behind her back, she opened up her book and settled in. Ed wasn’t sure why he was still watching, likely because he had fuck-all else to do, other than finish his whiskey.

A few beats passed and Ed decided he was being creepy, and turned to grab the remote to lower the blinds back down.


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Travis Street, Houston, Feb. 17, 2016

innytoes  asked:

Imagine Steve and Bucky going to a fair and winning each other prizes.

They’d gone for a drive, just because they felt like it. They’re somewhere up in New Hampshire, in some town called Sandwich.

Steve takes a picture of a cop car that reads SANDWICH POLICE and sends it to Tony, because he thinks Tony will like it, with his extreme irreverence toward authority.

They can—and do—hold hands as they wander along the Sandwich Fairgrounds. Bucky buys Steve cotton candy and then snipes more than half of it. Steve doesn’t mind.

As they’re walking, Bucky points at an enormous stuffed panda bear. “I’m going to win you that,” he tells Steve, and then parks it in front of a little toy shotgun. He props it against his shoulder and grins. “Think I can do it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve replies, leaning against the edge of the booth. It’s no lie. Winter Soldier or not, Bucky had always been a hell of a marksman.

Bucky doesn’t have to pay for more than one round of rubber bullets. They walk away with the bear and glares on their backs from the kid running the booth.

It’s Steve who spots the strongman booth. “I’ll get you that unicorn,” he says. It’s huge and white, with pink hooves and horn. He passes over the panda and picks up the hammer, nearly breaks the machine and deafens half the people nearby as the little marker bashes into the bell at the top of the meter.

By the time they get back in the car, all three of the seats in the back are occupied, the panda, unicorn, and a big turtle buckled in. There are several more stuffed animals in the trunk.

It’s not like they could have gotten away with going to a fair without winning stuff for all of their friends, right?