well worn boot

Leave This Town Pt 1 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, reader’s mother, Maria (mentioned)

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

Song Inspiration: Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m so excited about this series, you guys. I’ve been daydreaming about this story for months and every time I hear the song that inspired it I still get butterflies. I started this part 6 months ago and finished it, but I wasn’t ready to let it out into the world. But when @bionic-buckyb mentioned her 5k AU Writing Challenge and “mechanic” was one of the prompts, I knew it was meant to be. This story is close to my heart. I really hope you like it. Any feedback is appreciated. <3

Part One   Part Two>>> 

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist


Originally posted by lifegoesonasusual

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear
Pack yourself a favorite blouse.
Take a withdrawal slip
Take all of your savings out.

Cause if we don’t leave this town,
We might never make it out
I was not born to drown.
Baby, come on.

Those first few hours of freedom were absolute bliss! Flying down the highway with the windows down, music blasting as you sang at the top of your lungs. It was everything you had dreamed of. You did it. You were out. You had quit your job, cashed out your life savings, bought a cheap but reliable car, and hit the road without looking back.

All was going according to plan. That is, until 4 hours later your car started to smoke and sputter, compelling you to pull to the side of the road for fear of dying in a ball of fire. There wasn’t anything you could do at the moment, what with it being 2am at the time. Thankfully, it was the middle of summer so sleeping in your car wasn’t too uncomfortable, at least at night.  

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Fragments - Prologue/Preview

Word Count: 422

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None for now

A/N: This is my new Dean Series. It’s based on This Gif Blurb and I’m hoping I do it justice. The title may change. It’s a working title right now. If you’d like to be tagged you can add yourself Here

Fragments Masterlist

“That was amazing.” You laid your head on Dean’s chest, catching your breath while he ran his fingers through your hair. You pressed kisses to his tattoo, nuzzling against him. This was your Heaven. Just the two of you living your lives together like you should have. Nothing fancy.

“I love you.” Dean murmured into your hair, trailing his fingertips up and down your spine.

“Love you too.” You whispered back, nuzzling yourself further into him, pressing every bit of skin you could against his while his ministrations lulled you to sleep.

You woke up outside in the dark, face down in the wet grass. You were dressed in a flannel shirt with jeans and well-worn boots. The flannel was slightly torn and underneath was a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt with what looked like a dried blood- stain on the chest.

You pushed yourself up, wiping the grass from your face and clothes and looked around. You were on high alert. Any sound in the area made you twitchy and jumpy, like something was out to get you. When you were able to steady yourself on your feet, you did the one thing that made any sense, you ran. You ran through the bushes and the trees, letting them hit you and cut you. You ran until you couldn’t breathe anymore and collapsed on the ground, gasping for air and crying, trying to figure out where you were and how the hell you got here.

“Are you alright?” You jumped at the new voice and turned around, collapsing to the ground on your back and scooting backwards on your elbows. “It’s ok. I’m a friend.” You took a good look at the person speaking. She didn’t look very threatening. She looked sweet, helpful even. She was a woman with long, blonde hair wearing nothing but a white nightgown and no shoes. She looked just as lost as you felt.

“No.” You breathed. “I don’t know how I got here.”

“I don’t know how I got here either. We’ll figure this out, ok?” She leaned down, offering her hand and you took it willingly, letting her help you up. “My name is Mary. What’s yours?” You opened your mouth to tell her your name and stopped immediately when nothing came to your mind. You kept searching your mind for anything, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. You looked back up into her eyes, swallowing hard and shaking your head, trying to hold back your panic and your tears.

“I – I don’t know.”

Fragments - Part 1

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The Signs as Beautiful Things
  • Aries: Aries is the adrenaline rush after a victory. Aries is a firework on a summer night. Aries is the feeling in your gut on a roller coaster.
  • Taurus: Taurus is the sense of accomplishment when you finish a long task. Taurus is a strong mountain, with life coming from every side of it. Taurus is the satisfaction of simply surviving.
  • Gemini: Gemini is the look in your eyes when you make someone happy. Gemini is a pair of well worn boots that have traveled more than most people. Gemini is the cadence of a poem.
  • Cancer: Cancer is the shore of the ocean. Cancer is the moment before a long awaited hug. Cancer is fire and ice, bonded together.
  • Leo: Leo is the golden headpiece of an emperor. Leo is fantastic plans being made. Leo is a campfire under the stars.
  • Virgo: Virgo is the sun shining on fresh snow. Virgo is the feeling of revenge. Virgo is a bird, flying free from its cage.
  • Libra: Libra is holding hands with two people at once. Libra is the smell of baking bread. Libra is sitting in silence with the ones you love, knowing they are there and thinking about you and loving you.
  • Scorpio: Scorpio is a budding tree branch. Scorpio is moving on from the bad things. Scorpio is a long talk in the middle of the night about life.
  • Sagittarius: Sagittarius is a worn leather journal, filled with accounts of adventures. Sagittarius is a crowd singing in unison at a concert. Sagittarius is a spark, jumping from fire to fire, starting something new each time.
  • Capricorn: Capricorn is knowing someone is proud of you. Capricorn is a sunflower, always bright and providing. Capricorn is your favorite hiking trail.
  • Aquarius: Aquarius is a canoe in the middle of a still lake. Aquarius is saving a life. Aquarius is humans helping humans, and appreciating the beautiful mess of life.
  • Pisces: Pisces is a feather, floating on the breeze. Pisces is peaceful mediation. Pisces is giving to the world in secret, because you don't want the credit.
gimme that everyday dragon apparel

work aprons

cloaks that are a little dusty and patched up 

well worn boots

a quilt that has been passed down for generations

modest/utilitarian bonnets and strawhats or other hats that aren’t too fancy for just doing errands or day to day tasks

tools like shovels, shepherd’s crooks, pitchforks, specialized tool belts 

adornments that are a little more crafty than glitzy. woven bracelets and necklaces

anonymous asked:

Hi! I saw that requests were open and was hoping I could request a lil modern day, backpacking nalu au? Thank you so much!

Lucy stumbles as her boot catches on a rock, causing her to trip. She wobbles for a moment, balance losing to gravity, but Natsu catches her before she can fall, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. “Don’t open your eyes,” he reminds her, seeing her lips begin to flicker.

Lucy pouts, brow furrowing as Natsu continues to guide her forward. “Why am I always the one in potential danger?” she asks her boyfriend, letting him lead her through the trees and up the side of the mountain, the trail well-worn beneath their boots. 

He chuckles, palm warm against her chilled skin. Lucy shivers at the touch, leaning into him and wanting nothing more than to curl up against him on the bed in their hotel room. She was too tired to argue this morning, not sure why her boyfriend for two years was waking her up at three AM and telling her to get her bag. That should have been her first clue that something terrible was going to happen, but didn’t argue, merely slipped on one of his old sweaters and grabbed her bag.

“ ‘Cus you attract trouble, Love,” Natsu tells her, Scottish lilt thick on his tongue, more so than usual. He squeezes her arm, guiding her forward with slow, even steps.

She snorts, shaking her head. “Really? Are you sure it’s not your hero complex?” she jokes, giggling when he reaches out to pinch her nose. She squeals, swatting at him blindly. He laughs when she misses, ducking out of reach, and Luch huffs, puffing out her cheeks impatiently. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”

She really hopes he isn’t about to shove her off a cliff. That would suck.

“Almost there,” he promises. He murmurs something she doesn’t catch, then pulls her flush against him, cradling her to his chest. “Open your eyes,” he breathes against her, lips pressed to her temple. 

Her eyes snap open, Lucy immediately wincing at the sudden brightness. After a moment, her eyes adjust, and Lucy gasps as she looks at the sunrise from the top of the mountain, reds and golds bleeding together beautifully. She rips her gaze away from the horizon, staring up at Natsu with amazement.

Her voice quivers when she speaks. “Natsu,” she murmurs, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

He leans into her, smile a bit embarrassed. “I saw it last time I was ‘ere. Thought of you,” he tells her, tilting his chin to nose at her cheek, breathing her in deeply.

Lucy giggles, pulling him down for a soft kiss. He sighs against her, smiling, and Lucy curls her arms around his neck, holding him tight against her. His own arms wrap around her waist, dragging her flush against his chest.

“I love you,” she mumbles against him, pressing up on her toes for another kiss, longer this time.

He grins, twisting the two of them around to drop Lucy into a dip, never once letting her go. She shrieks against him, clinging to his neck as he deepens the kiss.

Mechanic!Bucky x reader coming soon!!

Hello, my lovelies!! I’ve got something new coming up soon so I thought I’d give a little preview!! This is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5k AU Challenge which is due June 5th (I always like to cut it close. heh.).  So that’s why I’m pushing this up a bit while I’m still working on other fics. Part 1 will be posted Sunday, June 4th and then will continue after In the Arms of Justice finishes. 

****I will be accepting 15 TAGS ONLY FOR THIS FIC. Replies to this post ONLY will be accepted. NO ASKS OR MESSAGES. ****  

***Update: Tagging for this fic is now CLOSED.***

If you’re on my permanent tag list, then you’ll be tagged anyway. (That tag list is closed by the way. Sorry about that).

I’m super excited about this fic. It’s based on the song Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers, which I’ve had on repeat basically for months and I’m still in love with it. 

Here’s a little preview under the cut:

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joshs-left-earlobe  asked:

My birthday is March 19th and I would love a surprise drabble!!! I love Everlark in a funny situation, miscommunication, or interesting meet-cute. Can be any rating but I'm a sucker for a really steamy first kiss. Thank you! xoxo

Originally posted by gameraboy

Wishing you the happiest of days! To help you celebrate, the lovely @mega-aulover has crafted this darling bit of Everlark just for you!


Rated: G

A/N: (….Happy Birthday, I hope you have a great day. Love Mega-Aulover…special thanks to @booksrockmyface for taking time to beta, thank you!)

The I-CON banner hung brightly over the entrance of the college building.

“Tell me again what you’ve dragged me to?” Katniss looked up at the blue banner with stars and some alien painted on it.

She wondered how Delly talked into going to this thing called I-CON.

Delly giggled, “Oh Katniss, I-CON or rather the Island Convention, is a smaller version of Comic-Con, on Long Island. Though it’s really a gathering of fan girls and boys, who are self-described geeks and nerds, like me.”

Katniss was none of these things but Delly was. Delly with her sweet disposition was heavily into Anime. A number of the authors she obsessed over were going to be present. Katniss didn’t get it. But Delly swooned over something called Tokyo Ghoul. “What’s this book about?”

“Take a look,” Delly handed her the book.

Katniss cracked open the book and flipped through the pages, a semi-scowl on her face. “You mean this is about zombies?”

“YES!” Delly squealed.

“You need to take it down a notch, Dells.” Katniss gave Delly the book back.

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Logged in - Part 3

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Summary: Dean x Reader: Sam tells Dean and the reader about a new online community for hunters and they both scoff at him, but secretly use it and end up drawn to each other.

Word Count: 5573

Triggers: None really

Y/N = Your name  Y/L/N = Your last name/surname

Note: So this thing is ending up much longer that first planned. Had to split part 3 into two parts. Next one should be the last one though.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

The next morning was just as bad as drunk you had prophesied, though that hadn’t been a far-fetched guess considering how you made a complete fool out of yourself just hours earlier. You stayed in bed with your eyes closed after waking up to the sobering realization that you had completely fucked up, and that blaming it all on the whiskey would not do you any good. Shit! Drinking and technology never mixed well. Like vodka and beer.

In your own defence, you’d been left unsupervised, drunk, and with a working WiFi connection. That alone spelled doom. Damn it, you weren’t fooling anyone, and least of all yourself. You should know yourself well enough to disconnect everything when you’d been drinking or were planning on drinking. You weren’t some greenhorn when it came to drunken mistakes and sober regrets, you’d had enough of them throughout the years to basically be a black belt in the sacred art of making a fucking fool out of yourself.

Drunk (Y/N) was like the hunter-edition of Jackass. If you knew not to do something, drunk you would do it three times over and scrapbook that shit, adding little inspirational quotes and photographic evidence of every step of the damned train wreck for sober (Y/N) to relive the memories of the disaster on a weekly… Nay, daily basis.  No, there was no defending what you’d done… Drunk you was a sadistic bitch, which was something you should have learned years ago.

Yeah, you were fucked. The only thing you could possibly do was to never go online again. Ever. Not even for YouTube or Netflix. Just like how you stopped going to your favourite hole in the wall bar after an evening of tequila shots, 80s karaoke, and regrets. Swallowing you tried to rid yourself of your cotton mouth as your mind flashed back to your words the night before and your subsequent cowardly actions. Your mouth tasted like beer, whiskey and idiotic, drunken, mistakes. Shit, that was it… Your time spent with J.T online, not-so-innocently flirting was over for good.

That was the somewhat good thing about the internet… It made running away with your tail between your legs really easy. Even if your future evenings without talking to J.T would be miserable.

“Fuck!” Your voice was coarse and low in the darkened bedroom. You hadn’t even meant to swear out loud, but hell, yesterday deserved a few good profanities. Your head was pounding and you knew the moment you sat up everything would get so much worse. Getting out of bed wouldn’t just mean dealing with the hangover, but it would also mean facing the world and pretending to the two men in the bunker that you hadn’t made the biggest fool possible of yourself the night before. Because, of course they couldn’t know.. They weren’t even supposed to know you used the webpage. Yeah, you were truly and thoroughly screwed. No hair of the dog or one of Sammy’s disgusting, yet miraculous, hangover smoothies would cure that.  

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There’s not much better in the entire world, Niall thinks, than early mornings on a horse farm. Of course, being set in the heart of bluegrass country out in Lexington, Kentucky, doesn’t hurt. It’s early in the day yet, but he can hear the start of the horses waking up downstairs. They probably heard him get up, and, true to form, immediately expect breakfast.

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The long way home Pt. 1

A/N-Thanks to @andrea6d1 for the prompt for this one. I hope you like it

.Alec leaned against the wall of the elevator as he rode it up to the loft that he now shared with Magnus. It had been a long day. He put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, the vibration from the lift, oddly relaxing.

 He and Magnus had only been living together for a couple of months but Alec was surprised at how quickly the loft had felt like home to him. He gave a tired smile when he realised that it wasn’t the vibration of the lift that relaxed him, it was the thought that Magnus would be there to welcome him home.

He felt the jerk that meant that he had finally reached his destination and peeling himself from the wall, headed for door. His door. Their door

.The second he walked into the loft he frowned. It was too quiet for this time of the early evening. Magnus rarely did anything without music playing in the back ground. Even boring domestic duties like cooking dinner apparently required a playlist and Alec was starting to get to know exactly what his boyfriend was up to by the type of music that was on. Domestic duties were usually accompanied by something high energy, some kind of dance or work out music. Dinner, depending on what Magnus was preparing, was classical or even operatic.

 But tonight, the silence was deafening.

“Magnus?” Alec called but only the very faint sounds of the traffic below on the street came back to him as a reply. He frowned and started heading for the bedroom to see if he was in there when he stopped dead in his tracks.

A pair of well-worn black ankle boots were sticking out from behind one of the sofas. Alec found himself staring at them stupidly at first, as his tired mind tried to reason out why they were laying there in the first place and why they were at such a strange angle. It hit him like a blow to the stomach and he actually doubled over slightly. It was because Magnus was still wearing them.

He flew around to behind the sofa to find the man he loved lying still on the hard wood floor. He was on his side, one arm up near his face, the other stretched out in front of him, the same one on which he wore the small red silk good fortune charm he had bought him. He had secured it around his wrist with a plaited black silk cord. Its magic charms had obviously failed him tonight.

Alec threw himself down beside him, gently rolling him over so he could see his face. It looked for all the world like he was just asleep, like Alec had seen it look many times. But there were small tell-tale signs that gave away the seriousness of the situation. Magnus’ light caramel coloured skin was paler than usual. It seemed to of lost that inner glow that shone through it. Like the light had been turned off. His closed eye lids, framed by the black eye liner he always wore, looked more transparent. The network of faint blue veins more visible than usual. His small soft mouth, the subject of many of Alec’s day dreams, seemed to sag at the corners. Something was terribly wrong here.

The first thing he did was check to see if Magnus was breathing and he was relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He held two fingers over the pulse in his neck and felt the soft rhythmic taps beneath them. Whatever was going on, at least Magnus was breathing and his pulse was steady.

Alec cradled his head in his lap. He ran a gentle hand down the side of his cheek.

“Magnus? Hey, wake up, what happened?” but he got no response.

 He tried giving the same cheek a small tap, calling him once more. Still nothing. By now Alec was starting to get really worried. The long day at the Institute was long forgotten and any feelings of being tired were quickly being replaced by the first icy touches of  fear.

 Alec shook Magnus, using a little more force than it usually took to wake him.

“Magnus? Wake up!” he said loudly to him, studying his face, waiting and hoping for any sign that he was alright. Nothing.

“Shit, Babe, what’s happened to you? Why won’t you wake up?” Alec could hear the panic in his own voice but was unable to stop it.

 He ran his hands over Magnus’ chest, checking for any sign of injury but found none. It should have been a relief to know that he hadn’t been injured by something or someone but the absence of any wounds only seemed to make it worse.

He looked around the near dark apartment, trying to settle his mind enough to figure out what to do. He took in some deep breaths, closed his eyes for a few minutes. He should call someone for help. Jace, Clary and even Raphael went through his mind but he doubted they would know anything about this. Caterina Loss. Magnus’ friend, she’d be able to help.

10 Things I Hate About You(Reader x Poe Dameron)

Word Count: 2851

Summary: No one can break down the walls and barriers of wits and stubbornness that the reader has put up. Not one guy has ever come close to even sharing a glance with the reader that wasn’t intended to kill. But Poe, with his cunning charm, was set to change that, thanks to a bet initiated by Finn.

A/N: You all know the movie. If you don’t, I highly suggest that you watch it because it’s so so so good. I’ve switched up the poem a bit to make more for my story and the sw universe. And as always, if you’re not in a star wars mood, this isn’t for you. Enjoy!!

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Like A Rolling Stone: Now You Don't Talk So Loud

Summary: Crime!AU. Cas Novak stumbles across a dead body. Enter the Winchesters. Things get complicated.

Word Count: 2,513

Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, various other SPN characters

Pairing: Eventual Destiel

Warnings: Language, canon typical violence, drug use

A/N: This is the first installment in a slow burn Destiel crime!AU. This iteration of Cas is based loosely on the endverse/future!Cas. Warnings for each chapter may vary and change as necessary. Beta’d by @winchester-family-business. I apologize for any errors and typos. Enjoy!

Originally posted by supernaturalfreewill

Cas watched intently as the lights inside the Money Mart Barber Shop flicked off, one by one. Lighting a cigarette, he allowed himself a small chuckle as he contemplated the establishment across the street. Anywhere else in the world, the thought of stopping in for a haircut while you waited for your title loan would seem completely absurd, but not on the corner of Pontiac and Stull. Not in this neck of the woods. He inhaled deeply, the long drag of nicotine hitting just the right spot and briefly soothing the unpleasant buzz beneath his skin. He glanced down at his watch for the twelfth time in just as many minutes:


“Almost that time,” he muttered, forcing himself to relax. For the most part, the streets at this end of the neighborhood—if you could call it that—were deserted. Apart from the occasional windblown grocery bag and shady representative from the feral cat colony under the bridge, Cas stood alone. Growing tired of the half-smoked cigarette, he threw it on the ground and stomped it out with his well-worn army boots that had, despite their lack of combat, seen better days.

“Should have brought something stronger.” Had this been any other night, any other rendezvous, he probably would have. But not this time. This meeting was too important to fuck up with amphetamines or a swig of absinthe. Rodger would be here any minute, which meant Cas had to be alert and on his game tonight. When it came to the drug ring in this city, Rodger was definitely part of the inner circle. Getting close to Rodger meant Cas was getting close to the top, the main players. It meant he was one step closer to Nick Bringer, or “Lucifer.” The crime boss gave himself the name nearly ten years ago when neighborhood test groups showed that nine out of ten street thugs found the name “Lucifer” far more intimidating than plain old “Nick.”

The name stuck.

Lucifer became synonymous with crime in this city. Lucifer ran the underground. Lucifer turned this town into his own personal hell.

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loquaciousquark  asked:

Fenris/Hawke, 15? If you feel like it!

There are private baths in Hightown, and Hawke loves them for the extravagance and perfumed water. In almost all else, she’s her father’s daughter, more comfortable in a muddy cloak and well-worn boots than in stays and fancy shoes.

But for a warm room and a heated pool that is all her own for an hour? She is ready to embrace her mother’s heritage. Especially if it means that she can swim through water that smells just faintly of peonies and sweet pea and press her cheek against Fenris’ back.

“Mm?” The baths make Fenris drowsy, limbs heavy. That they almost always come here first after a job doesn’t help.

And they barely survived the last job, so sopping wet with gore that her boots squished all the way to Hightown.

Hawks kisses along his spine. “Do you need me to wash your hair?” His markings make her lips numb, a strange jolt of something that she can’t quite name.

She might run her tongue over the line of his spine, just for see if he’ll react. It’s hard to say; her mouth is numb, of course.

He chuckles but doesn’t move. “Whatever the lady wishes,” he says, in a low tone that makes her shiver, turning just slightly so he can give her a look.

“I don’t really want to wash your hair.” She kisses the sharp point of one shoulder blade.

“Don’t shock me so.” His tone is dry as he turns and takes her into his arms, the water rippling around them. “I may pass out and drown.”

Hawke grins, bending close for a moment to nip at his lips. “Your humor is still terrible.”

One black brow raises, as if to say ‘My humor,’ but then he rolls his hips and she might just forget to reply.

anonymous asked:

The one is a werewolf, and has not yet disclosed this teeny tiny detail despite of them having dated a while already. Tell how the other one finds out.

When Dr. Gonzalez offered his practice to Phil upon his retirement, Phil wasn’t sure what to say.  He’d been working here and there around the city, never really settling down anywhere, to any one clinic.  He tended to go where he was needed, get the job done, and help everyone he came across as best he could, but he never really felt welcome anywhere.  

Dr. Gonzalez ran a small practice in a bedroom community just east of the city.  The more Phil thought about it -  the normal hours, buying a small acreage, the short commute into town if he needed anything, the more appealing the idea became.  Finally, he asked Dr. Gonzalez if he could come out and take a look around.  His old mentor was more than happy to have him drop by for half a day.  

The clinic was in a two-story strip-mall-like building between a delicatessen and a nail salon in the middle of the little town.  Calling it a strip mall really didn’t do it justice, as the developer had set up the buildings to look like a classic ‘main street in a little town out of a Christmas card’ or something similar with fake white shutters and elaborate scrollwork.  

Stepping inside, he was cheerfully greeted by Nurse Simmons, a bubbly young brunette with an English accent. She asked him to take a seat in the tiny yet comfortable waiting room while she let Dr. Gonzalez know he’d arrived. What he hadn’t expected was for Melinda May, one of his favourite nurses from his days in the downtown emergency room to appear shortly afterwards to lead him back.  

He sat in on Dr. Gonzalez’s afternoon appointments, and found himself pleased to be introduced to the patients as the doctor considering taking over. Everyone was friendly, if a bit reserved to meet the stranger, but everyone immediately invited him to the first Farmer’s Market of the year opening in a few short weeks. From various people, he heard about the pie baking competition, the amazing booths of homemade goods and food.  The crowning glory seemed to be the archery demonstration.  Apparently somewhere between town and the city limits, there was an archery range, and said range was owned and run by a local. The event was not to be missed.  

Melinda was more than happy to join him at the local pub for a quick beer once the clinic had closed for the night and Dr. Gonzalez headed off home to his own acreage.  

“Thoughts?” May asked as she set down a glass in front of him and took her seat.

“I am very sorely tempted.” He admitted before taking a long swallow. “I must admit I was surprised to see you out here. Back in Emerg, you could martial whole armies with a look. Isn’t small town life like this boring for you?”

She gave him a raised eyebrow in response. “I needed a change, wanted to focus on other things.”  

“What other things?” he smiled at her somewhat wistful tone.

May clinked their glasses together. “Take over the practice and find out?”

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Turbulent Tides (closed rp with vxvikingxv)

The moon was bright and high. She waited, silent and stealthy for the cloud cover. She didn’t want the bright light to expose her yet.
Black clouds drifted over the silver glow of the moon, enveloping it in a black blanket and dropping the portside town into blankness.
Astrid gestured and she and the crew moved like shadows through the dark streets. Many moved towards taverns, houses, even the smithy. She though, she and a small group headed to the Manor on the hill.
That was the jackpot. But to get in and out with minimal drama would be hard.
Not that she cared.
She scaled the walls, a dagger between her teeth and a sword at her hip. She dropped onto a marble balcony silently, draped in a long dark brown leather coat, her knee high boots well worn but silent.
She slipped into the building like a ghost and moved through the halls, avoiding rooms where she heard people in them.
She found a room empty of people and full of fine womens clothes and jewellery. Astrid held up a necklace and then uncovered a beautiful ring in an ornate box. Must have been an engagement ring or something. That would be worth plenty.
She heard a rustle behind her. And the steps were not those she recognised as her fellows.
She drew her sword and turned swiftly to grab them from behind and holding the sword to their throat.
“Scream and you’re dead.”
She whispered in their ear.


Even Their Names Sound Good Together : Ashton AU

A one shot with Ashton where “You” are whatever gender you want to read yourself as, and your sexuality has no label. Hope you enjoy x

Description: You and Ashton have been friends for years, but now that graduation is right around the corner you might reconsider your feelings. Oh, and there’s a bit of a twist at the end.

Word Count: 4238

The dismissal bell is still ringing as you’re the first person to exit the room. Your teacher yells some nonsense about how class isn’t over until he says it is, which you ignore since surely they would have come up with a different name for the bell if it had no control over the time of your departure. Besides, you know you won’t get in trouble anyway. Another week is all you have to stand of this hell hole until graduation, and then you’re free from stupid rules like waiting for incompetent teachers to act like they’re in charge and asking permission to go to the bathroom only to be told ‘no’ because “too many students have already gone today.”

You roll your eyes at that last one, but your mood instantly lifts upon seeing your friend Ashton waiting for you in the hallway. Crooked smiles are exchanged before he falls into step with you on the way to your locker.

“How was class?” he asks in a very parent-like form, absentmindedly tightening the one strap of his backpack that’s slung over his shoulder.

“A drag,” you answer. “How was yours?”

Ashton shrugs, but the smirk on his face suggests he has something more to say. “Couldn’t really focus on the lesson. Mrs. McKenna wore that short skirt again.”

You ram your elbow into his. “You’re gross!”

“What!” he plays back. “She’s an attractive older woman.”

“She’s married,” you emphasize with a laugh.

“It’s not like I’m hitting on her,” he defends, his famous giggle making an appearance. “I just appreciate how she looks.”

“That’s creepy sounding.”

The two of you come up to your locker and you begin to tamper with the lock, twisting in the code that you’ve had memorized for the past four years. The thin metal door creaks open, revealing the trashcan you store your books in. One of the many Pop-Tarts wrappers that have been left behind after a quick breakfast on-the-go falls over the edge of the shelf and flutters to the ground near Ashton’s feet. He picks it up for you and tosses it in the actual garbage bin that’s stationed only about two feet away.

“Yeah, I’m the gross one,” he teases.

You follow Ashton’s lead by taking a handful of the rest of the wrappers and discarding them as well.

“I’ll take being a slob over being a perv,” you mock.

“A perv?” A new voice joins the conversation. “Who’s being a perv?”

You look up just in time to see Ashton throw his arm around Aimee, his girlfriend of four months. Her brown eyes close comfortably as Ashton presses his lips to her temple, but when they open again they’re staring directly at you. You play nice and offer a polite smile, even though you and Aimee have never really gotten along. She hasn’t admitted it, but you’re pretty sure the girl hates you just for being close friends with Ashton.

“Your boyfriend is,” you say, completely throwing Ashton under the bus.

“I’m not a perv,” he exasperates. Aimee just purses her full lips and apparently decides not to press the issue, which leads Ashton to a change of subject. “Anyway, tonight? You guys ready?”

You pause at unloading books from your backpack. “What’s tonight?”

Aimee’s swift glare toward Ashton doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but the recipient remains oblivious.

“Madison’s party,” he says more like a question, confused as to why you didn’t know about it. He looks down at Aimee for answers since she and the host are best friends.

“Yeah, Madison was supposed to invite you.” Aimee feigns ignorance. You know the bitch was trying to exclude you.

She clings to Ashton’s waist as if she knows that you won’t call her out on her lie as long as he’s around, which is true. You don’t want to make things more awkward than they already are, and frankly she’s not worth the drama.


“You’ll come, won’t you?” Aimee presses her cheek to Ashton’s chest when she forces herself to ask, a hint of intentional provocation dwelling in her eyes.

“You better,” Ashton pipes in.

You want to decline– to save yourself from a night of feeling unwelcomed, but at the same time having the ability to put a damper on Aimee’s night is a power of yours that’s too good not to use.

“Sure,” you reluctantly agree. “I’ll go.”

“Cool.” Ashton genuinely smiles and reaches out the arm that isn’t around his girlfriend’s waist to pull you into a side hug. Your head crashes into his chest and now your face is an uncomfortable few inches away from Aimee’s. She doesn’t look any happier about the position than you do.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says when you hastily pull away, then he peers down at Aimee to address her next, “And I’ll pick you up at eight.”

You know what’s coming next, but Ashton’s mouth finds hers faster than you can look away. With the turn of your heels you’re heading in the other direction, unsuccessfully suppressing the urge to gag.    


You let yourself into the house, knowing that nobody would hear you knock over the loud music anyway. You’re immediately greeted by pop-rock and a random drunk stranger, who is for some reason extremely happy to see you. He thankfully moves onto another group of people after initiating you into the party by spilling a bit of his drink all over your well-worn combat boots.

The next person you see isn’t exactly who you were looking for, but you certainly don’t mind their presence. She’s a past fling of yours – someone you didn’t want to get serious with at the time but would probably always welcome back into your bed.

She notices you from across the room, her back pressed against someone else’s front, and her glass is raised along with the corners of her lips. You make a mental note to talk to her later when her hips aren’t occupied by another person’s hands.


To your right appears a staggering Ashton, clearly already a few beers deep into his long night of binge drinking. His strong arms wrap you into the tightest bear hug, literally squeezing the breath out of your body.

“Hello to you, too,” you wheeze when he puts you down. You touch his shoulder as you remember how to breathe.

“I’m glad you came,” he says with his mouth right next to your ear. The skunky aroma of the alcohol he’s consumed is so strong off of his lips that you think you might catch a buzz just from smelling it. His fingers that never left your waist finally move to take your hand in his. “Come on! Let’s get you a drink.”

He drags you into the kitchen that’s surprisingly empty considering this is where the supply of alcohol is being kept. On your way there you find yourself staring at the contrast between your smaller hand enveloped by Ashton’s man-paw.

A mixed drink is quickly made for you, and as you take your first sip you feel the heat from Ashton’s undivided attention warming up your cheeks. You look up from your cup and smile because he has the most smug grin etched on his face while watching you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you tease, going for a second sip. The vodka to soda ratio tastes like it leans more toward vodka, but you’re not one to complain.

“We’re graduating in a few days,” Ashton says in disbelief, one huff of a laugh escaping his throat. “I’m just proud of us, you know?”

You nod although you haven’t really thought of it like that. Going to high school didn’t feel like an accomplishment to you. It wasn’t something you strived to be the best at; it was just something everyone was assigned to do at some point in their life.

“Do you remember when we first became friends?” Ashton pops the bottle off of another beer for himself.

“You mean in detention?” you laugh, remembering that day of freshman year perfectly.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I was there for having too many tardies and you were there because you cussed out Mr. Turner after he caught you smoking in the bathroom.”

Some of your drink wants to spurt out of your mouth as you recall the memory. “Oh my God. I don’t know how I only got one detention for that. I probably should have at least been suspended.”

“I know, you told me and I was like ‘Holy shit, this kid’s a delinquent.‘”

“Hey!” You nudge his shoulder. “Did you really think that?”

“Yes,” Ashton nudges you back, “And look at me now, completely corrupted by you.”

“Woah woah woah, I did not corrupt you!” You laugh and stand right in front of Ashton to drive a fingertip into his chest.

“Yes you did,” he smirks and catches your hand before you pull it away, lightly squeezing your knuckles together.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not!” Without realizing how close your foot was to Ashton’s, you try to step forward and end up tripping over his shoe. You stumble into his body, and out of natural reaction he curls one arm around your side, letting his palm rest over the belt loop on the back of your jeans.

His chest vibrates with more laughter. Your head remains stationary as your eyes follow his toned torso up to his neck, his jaw, his lips, and they don’t stop until they’re finally locked with his hazel irises.

“You’re not even drunk yet,” Ashton jokes at your expense.

“Well maybe if your feet weren’t so big.”

“You know what they say about big feet.”

“Yeah, Ashton?” Aimee’s sarcastic voice snaps both of you out of your playful banter. Your head turns to face the one person you wish more than anything didn’t happen to walk in the room at this exact moment.

“Aimee,” Ashton tries. You’re amazed that he doesn’t promptly push you away, but you do so yourself for the sake of their relationship.

Aimee stands angrily with her arms crossed over her chest. The tension just seems to keep building the longer nobody says anything, so you pick up your Solo cup from the counter and hold it out to her.  


“No thanks,” she states bluntly, glaring back and forth at the two of you. “I feel kinda nauseous.”

Her expensive shoes click against the tile on her storm out of the kitchen. You lean back against the counter, feeling too awkward to know what to say to Ashton.

“I should probably…” he trails off; you already know what he needs to do.

“Good luck,” you murmur, chasing your words with another swig of vodka and soda.


The straw in your second drink of the night serves as a lousy distraction when you can see Ashton and Aimee arguing on the patio through the clear sliding glass door. Ashton and Aimee, you think, even their names sound good together. Your stomach hurts with guilt, because no matter how much you dislike Aimee you never meant to be the problem in her relationship with Ashton. What’s worse is you know that he won’t blame you for this. Even though you might have been too close, too touchy, too comfortable around Ashton, he’s probably out there trying to convince Aimee that she’s freaking out over nothing.

“You’re at a party,” someone says casually as they approach you from behind, “Don’t look so glum.”

You can’t hide the smile that breaks out under your nose, the familiar attitude putting a little life into your sour mood.

“Hello, Vanessa,” you purr.

The girl wedges herself between you and the wall, mimicking your position by resting her elbows on the table in front of her. She looks out in the same direction as you and waits until she sees what you’re so caught up in, then tisks her tongue.

“They at it again?” Vanessa questions.

“Again?” You glance at her. “Were they fighting before?”

“Yeah, before you got here,” she says slowly, her voice composed and smooth as whiskey – one of your favorite things about her. “I don’t think Aimee really wanted you to come.”

You almost laugh. “Yeah, she’s not too fond of me.”

“Can you blame her?” Vanessa shifts to fully face you. “She’s just a stop along the way to your and Ashton’s happily ever after, ain’t she?”

“What?” Your instincts deny it. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Vanessa quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t look at her without blushing. “Y/n, we both know he’s the reason you don’t settle down with anyone else.”

“You’re crazy,” you lightheartedly repeat. “Ashton and I are friends.”

“Mmhm,” she hums skeptically. Vanessa inches closer and brushes a loose piece of hair away from your eye. You relax as you feel her narrow fingers trace soothingly down your neck and back until one of them hooks under the top of your jeans and snaps the fabric against your skin. She brings her lips right up to your ear and whispers, “We were just friends, too.”

“That was different,” you smirk, the image of her bare body beneath you flashing through your mind.

“Mmhm,” she sings again. “You can lie to yourself all you want, baby, but don’t you dare try lying to me.”

You take a deep breath, yet find yourself unable to let it out as long as Vanessa is this close to you. She chuckles sexily and gives your cheek a lingering kiss. Gliding one suggestive touch across your bum, she begins to wander away, and you can’t help but focus your eyes on the subtle sway of the hips that you used to have all access to.

“Vanessa,” you call before she’s far enough away for the music to drown you out. She pauses to look back at you, peeking over her brown shoulder. “I hope she’s smarter than I was,” you say, nodding your chin in the direction of the girl she was dancing with earlier. Vanessa takes a glimpse at her new person of interest and shoots you a wink.

“She is.”


2:35 am. Most of the house has been evacuated except for a few stragglers who are either spending the night or waiting to sober up enough to drive home safely. You fall under neither of those categories, but right as you were about to make an exit Ashton came out of nowhere and sat you down on the couch to talk to him.

“Where’s Aimee?” was your initial question. You felt as though you’ve been the cause of enough of their issues for one night.

“She left,” he informed you, a drunk hiccup punctuating his sentence. “Yeah, she left a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, bringing your feet up onto the couch to make yourself more comfortable. “What did she say?”

And here you are now, listening to Ashton ramble on and on about everything brought up during the argument that you aroused. What you’ve gathered so far is that Aimee really hates you, that she, uh… hates you, and oh yeah! Aimee hates you. She apparently even went as far as demanding that Ashton not hang out with you anymore, which he shut down without consideration. One thing you could always count on was Ashton’s devout loyalty.

“Did you guys break up, or…” your thumb absentmindedly rubs circles into the couch’s arm rest.

“I don’t know,” Ashton shrugs, “probably.”

He reclines his head to the back of the furniture and closes his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest slowly starts to come less often as he drifts off toward unconsciousness. All of that fighting with Aimee mixed with depressant alcohol must have taken a serious toll on him.

He looks younger in this state – more soft and dependent than his typical macho bravado. It lures you in to closing the distance between him and yourself. You scoot across the sofa, grabbing his arm once you’re there and draping it over your shoulder as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. Ashton hints that he’s not fully knocked out yet by playing with the ends of your hair.  

“You know, maybe it’s for the best,” he startles you by speaking.

You rub your palm over his clothed stomach. “How so?”

“I spent so much time trying to convince her that I don’t have feelings for you, but that’s not even true.”

Your eyebrows arch in shock but the rest of you freezes in place.


“I like you, Y/n,” he states. “I really fucking like you.”

The words take a minute to sink in; you lean back to get a better look at his face. His eyes are on you and they’re beginning to bloodshot.

“Since when?” you ask.

“A while,” he says softly.

You notice his gaze decline toward your lips, so you take the time to study his as well. You’ve never looked at them this close before – they actually kind of have a cute shape to them.

He smiles and brings a hand up to cup your jaw. “Can I try something?”

You don’t answer. The right words escape you. Your mind goes utterly blank, and he takes your silence as a ‘yes’.

With a subtle, anxious lick to his lips, he throws away all logic and kisses you. You’re no stranger to the act of affection, but with Ashton it feels like a foreign concept. Your eyes don’t close like they naturally would have if you were doing this with someone else, and your hands don’t intuitively reach for some part of his body to turn him on further.

And yet, it’s nice. His lips are firm but also tender, and the way he caresses your jaw makes you feel protected. You’re particularly aware that this is your friend Ashton, but an ache deep inside of you knows that it’s not. It’s him, but a side you’ve never seen before. A side you’ve been afraid to introduce yourself to.

Right as you get a grip on the situation and decide it’s time to let go and enjoy what’s happening, the kiss ends. He’s the one who pulls away, but he doesn’t stray very far. Your foreheads press together as you both process your feelings.

“Did you hate it?” he whispers lightly.

This time you know what you want to say, you just can’t believe you’re about to admit it.


That’s all the permission he needs to dive back in. This kiss has more energy than the first, more confidence radiating from Ashton now that he’s already taken the plunge, and the impact of it sends you falling backwards until you’re parallel to the cushions of the couch with Ashton’s figure hovering above you. His mouth parts from yours for the briefest second and you find yourself desperately reaching for him to make connection again. His tongue swipes against yours and even though he tastes mostly like beer there’s still another hint of something that you can only describe as Ashton. He buries his knee between your legs and spreads them, lowering his hips to yours, and you feel the desire that he’s kept hidden from you for all these years throb against your thigh, and that’s when you realize that this needs to stop before it passes the point of no return.

Kissing Ashton is one thing, but once sex is involved you know your relationship would change, and that’s not something you’re sure if you’re ready for or not.

“Ash,” you breathe, grabbing his face to soften the blow that’s about to come.

He looks at you, not with disappointment but pure adoration, through fallen strands of his unruly hair.

“I’m not saying I don’t like this,” you begin, trying to pick your words carefully so nobody gets hurt, “but I think we should step back and evaluate.”

“Evaluate,” Ashton echoes humorously.

You smile because he’s not showing any signs of being upset, which makes your job easier.  

“You’re drunk,” you point out, “and I’m… confused.”



Ashton tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to figure out what you mean. He looks so good doing it that you almost shut up and let him take you then and there.

“I need to think,” you blurt, pushing on his shoulders to break free of his overpowering position. He sits up and let’s you off of the couch. You tuck your feet into the boots you took off once people started leaving and check your pockets for your phone and keys. When all is accounted for you look back at Ashton who’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching you leave. You don’t have the heart to just walk out on him, so you tilt up his chin and bend to press one more peck to his parted lips.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” you promise.


The next morning you remember everything clearly. Your first thought upon opening your eyes to a room that’s much too bright for your liking is of Ashton: his confession, his lips, his hands, his breath, his stiff sensuality prodding your leg. You smirk as you recall, proud of yourself for being the one it was intended for.  

If you’re having these thoughts you must like him, right? There’s no reason you should be pleased about causing an erection if you want nothing more than a platonic relationship with it. You like that Ashton wants you. You like that he was able to come clean about his feelings for you. And you hate the thought of him feeling that way toward anyone else – Aimee, specifically. Vanessa was right. Maybe not about you and Ashton having a happily ever after because there’s no telling what could happen in the future, but there’s definitely something there. You and Ashton belong together, at least for a little bit.

You check the time and fly out of bed, not only because you’re in a rush to see Ashton but because according to your phone it’s already 2pm. More than half the day has already passed, and you can only imagine the things he must be thinking as he waits forever to hear from you. Your fingers dance across your phone screen as you type out a text message to let him know that you’re on your way over. Hopefully that eases his mind if he’s having any negative assumptions.

After catching every red light on the way to his house, you pull into his driveway since his parents aren’t home and take a moment behind the steering wheel to rehearse what you’re going to say. Your nerves are on edge all of a sudden, and you can’t remember another time when you ever felt this stressed to see Ashton.

You don’t bother knocking because your text receipts inform you that Ashton’s read your message, so he knows it’s you who’s here.

“Ash?” you call from the living room.

You hear a thud and to your left Ashton appears from his room, just sticking half of his body through the doorway.

“Y/n,” he says, looking you up and down. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Even you can hear the shyness in your voice, so you clear your throat to get rid of it. “Um… Can we talk?”

His shoulders noticeably slump and his chest deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, I think we should.”

You smile and take a seat on the sofa, leaving enough room for Ashton to sit next to you, which he does. He’s carrying a glass of water with him that he sets down on the coffee table by your leg.

“Y/n,” he begins, “Last night was everything I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

Heat swarms to your cheeks and your smile grows. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He gazes at you, his eyebrows peaked in worry.

“Good things,” you assure.


“Yeah.” You take a pause to prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I like you, Ashton.” You wait for a reaction but it doesn’t come, so you go on. “I think I have for a while, too, but you were with Aimee, you know…” He’s focused on something across the room but you can tell he’s listening intently. “Last night… it needed to happen. I’m glad it happened, because now I know – I know how I feel about you, and now that I know, I’ve honestly never felt so sure about something before in my life, and I’m ready to do this, Ashton, I’m… What? What’s wrong?” You lose your train of thought when you see Ashton solemnly shaking his head.

“Why do you look sad? Did you change your mind or some-”

“No, Y/n.” He runs his hands down his face.

“Then why are you-”

“Aimee’s pregnant,” he announces. He finally faces you and your heart drops.

Aimee’s pregnant.

Words you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today, or ever for that matter, especially not from Ashton. You want to respond but your stomach is doing all kinds of things and you’re afraid you might throw up.  

“You mean, w-with your…”

He nods. “She found out this morning.”

A crack shoots down the center of your heart.

“Y/n, I can’t leave her.”

And now it’s broken.


Eric Bittle: Raised in rural-ish Georgia, County Fair Pie Baking Champion.

AKA The 4-H headcanon that the world needs (Here it is @bittlespie)

• 4-H is basically a co-ed organization that is really agriculturally based at its foundation but I promise that it’s more than that, like way more than that. It incorporates citizenship, leadership, and what not. There are a billion projects that you can be enrolled in and you join a club and the clubs meet once a month and everything culminates once a year at the county fair where shit goes down.

• SO ANYWAYS. Bitty would definitely have been in 4-H it’s a staple in rural areas (and Madison, GA has a population of 4,000 which is just a little more than my small Kansas town where 4-H is a big deal)

• Bitty’s projects were Foods and Nutrition, Rabbits, Self-Determined (his self-determined was ice skating while he still did that), Market Goat, Market Beef, and Buymanship.

• Suzanne was a county extension agent (They run the 4-H program in a county basically) in Family and Consumer Sciences which is why Bitty was in Foods and Nutrition and Buymanship (which is where you buy clothes and model them and talk to judges about them). Rabbits were also a Suzanne thing and they raised them in the backyard.

• But Coach insisted that Bitty also show some livestock because that’s what his football players show and that’s what Coach showed when he was in 4-H. So Bitty shows Cattle for Coach.

• Imagine seven-year-old Bitty pulling around a 1200 to 1300-pound show steer around a sand ring (I have pictures of seven-year-old me with a steer if you need to be able to see the size difference). The steer runs and Bitty chooses to hold on to the rope and be pulled around the ring instead of letting go because Coach yells when he lets go. (P.S. The steer is named something ridiculous like Cauliflower).

• The first time Bitty wins the county fair in his division for baking he is 9. He made Suzanne’s famous banana bread because he didn’t start making pies until 10. Grand Champion’s sell their food items at the livestock sale so Tiny Little Bitty sells his Steer to the Co-op and then sells his banana bread to one of the local cattle ranchers.

• Bitty doesn’t actually start showing goats until he is about 11, when he realizes that as much as he loves baking he does it for his mother and his moo-maw and the steer are for Coach. He falls in love with the goats when he is doing Round Robin. [Round Robin is a showmanship competition where the best showmen compete against eachother in every single species (horse, goat, sheep, cattle, and hogs)].

• By the time he is fifteen Bitty has won the fair at least once with all of his projects. Multiple times in some of them (Baking, Buymanship, and Rabbits). The only thing Bitty hasn’t won the fair with is goats and that’s just because Coach won’t let him shell out his money for good genetics like he will with the cattle.

• Bitty also went to 4-H camp every summer and you can fight me if you think that it isn’t 4-H camp where he serves as a counselor

• Bitty has also been swing dancing with the same girls at 4-H dances since he was 13. And of course he’s learned to lead and to follow (but let’s be honest he would prefer to follow because the boy loves to twirl). But he leads because that’s what’s expected of him at 4-H dances and he’s damn good at it.

• Of course Bitty went to National 4-H Congress it is held in Atlanta after all.

• Imagine Bitty in dark starched jeans, well-worn brown cowboy boots, and a button down shirt. He doesn’t wear a cowboy hat because only horse showman and high school rodeo kids wear cowboy hats. Bitty learned to iron because Suzanne refused to iron his shirts when he entered high school.

• Of course Bitty drags the SMH to the Massachusetts State Fair (is this a thing? I hope it is) because the boy hasn’t missed a state fair since he could walk and it’s a lot different than the one in Georgia but the deep fried Oreos still taste the same.

• Most of Bitty’s plaid in his closet isn’t flannel, and sometimes he’ll put on his boots with his jeans and walk around Samwell like he’s fresh out of the show ring (mainly when he’s missing home).


Addendum: The more (x)

Professor Winchester

Summary: Reader is given the job of being Professor John Winchester’s assistant.
Characters: Professor John Winchester & Female Reader
Word Count: Short and sweet at under 500
Warnings:  None
Author’s Note: Please let me know if you’d like to see this continued. John’s look inspired by this post (x). @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @hidingfrommychildren @balthazars-muse @mrs-squirrel-chester @aprofoundbondwithdean

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Operation Morgan

Sooooo @claraoswan, it’s time to give you your Captain Cobra Swan Secret Santa gift! It was a lot of fun talking to you (sorry for not sending as many messages as I should’ve - was a pretty questionable secret santa all around, unfortunately), and I hope you enjoy this fic I whipped up for you. I enjoyed writing it, and I’m even considering writing a follow up… Anywho, Happy Holidays (I really hope your holiday has been good!) and Merry Captain Cobra Swan Christmas!

Henry could hear the commotion coming from the crew cabin even before he was unceremoniously shoved out of the captain’s quarter’s, the rustling of Emma’s dress the only sound following him before the wood door slammed shut at his back. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all, pocketing the item Emma had pressed into his hand with a wink and a cheeky grin on the inside of his suit jacket before shoving his hands in the pockets on the outside. He casually crossed the hall towards where all the ruckus was erupting from.

“Don’t you dare toy with me, Killian Jones.”

Henry frowned in confusion as he stepped into the cabin, not seeing his grandmother even if her very determined voice had been reprimanding the man casually leaning against the wall across the room, the wrist of his hooked hand resting against the hilt of his sword.

“I assure you, your majesty, I am doing nothing of the sort.” Killian was looking down into the open hatch that led to the cargo hold. He glanced up briefly towards Henry as the younger man continued to move towards him. “Hello, lad.”

“Hey…” Henry stopped beside Killian and leaned over to peer down the hole himself. “What’s grandma doing?”

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