#Grass Mowing Company | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greenandsorrow · 6 months ago

Note

Hey, could u write a Basil from Omori oneshot x reader. Male reader that just met Basil at the park while Aubrey and her gang were bullying him. Reader at around the same age as Basil. Reader taller than Basil. Obviously Basil kinda crushes on reader but is shy. Thank u.

by your side•°

🌻Basil x male!reader, sfw🌻

-> fluff/comfort, dare I say cute, descriptive, tall!reader, Omori spoilers, Polly, the Hooligans, a bit of swearing

!!! I don't usually do male!readers, but I was so excited to write for this flower boy!

The artwork is by @/milkymilkyshark on X.🍃

✿

FARAWAY TOWN, 200X

You always liked the peaceful and mundane environment of this place. It's the place you've spent most of your spring breaks in, visiting your grandparents and playing games on their fourth generation computer. The roads are never full of traffic, stray kittens are always at your disposal to pet and each house has its own front yard.

The weather in FARAWAY TOWN is mild, sunny for the most part, the clouds above your head white and fluffy and the grass under your feet bright green and freshly mowed.

Since you've grown out of carelessly playing with your Hot Wheels and bored of rebuilding the same Lego sets over and over again, you decided it's time for a detour at the nostalgic town of your childhood.

As I said, it's quiet and uneventful here... almost. Your grandma kept you up to date with the tragic death of a young girl, four years ago. A suicide that stains the backyard of one of the utopic looking houses.

A shame.

Still, as much as you may be fond of this little town, you don't know its residents all that well. Maybe your detour will change that. You could use some company...

A fresh tee, shoes, keys, a few coins and you're out of the door.

Luckily, everything is within walking distance, so it's easy for you to plan a route for today's outing in your head.

OTHERMART is your first destination of the day. Last time you were here the shop was much smaller. It must've been expanded and you're definitely not complaining about it. You buy two cans of lemonade and some discounted snacks.

After exiting the shop, you debate on whether you should sit by the fountain or walk all the way to FARAWAY PARK, but the thought of enjoying your snacks while being surrounded by nature wins. FARAWAY PARK it is! The possibilities of meeting people are also more favourable in the park.

As you get closer and closer to it, you start hearing birds chirping, kids laughing and yelling, even the occasional bark of some dog. You're tempted to give the venting machines on the entrance a go, but you've used all you had on your snacks and soft drinks.

To your surprise though, it's not just shouts of joy and laughter that can be heard...

"Creep!!!"

Your curiosity is peaked and before you know it, your legs have already carried you to where the -not so happy- shouts are coming from.

The scene in front of you is upsetting to say the least. Six kids your age have surrounded a short boy, who is hugging himself while whimpering, while the pink-haired girl of the group keeps hurling offences his way.

Your chest tightens. This is wrong. You don't know what the full story behind this whole ordeal is, but bullying is certainly not the way to deal with it.

Your height has always made you appear older than you really are and in this moment of havoc, you decide to use this advantage of yours to end this poor boy's suffering. Keeping your strides confident and determined, you get next to the pink-haired girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. You want to appear intimidating.

AUBREY jumps slightly at the unexpected contact and you seize the opportunity to talk first.

"Don't you have anything fucking better to do?!"

She does look furious, but still a bit startled.

"W- what d- did you say?!"

"I'm sure you heard me the first time! Six to one?! Are you really such a big jerk?!"

Some of the kids in her group have turned red in the face, or are avoiding looking your way. That's good. You're not looking for a full blown out fight anyway.

But what are you doing then? Meeting people like your initial goal was? No. You're defending this blonde boy.

Fortunately, after some angry glares and muttered curses, the group retreats from the park. The girl with the pink hair is the last to go.

"We're not done!"

You can't help but roll your eyes at her over the top, tough nut to crack persona. It doesn't matter that much though, she's walking away now and you're left with the victim of her fury.

Despite his stature, he must be your peer. He has fluffy, blond hair with a pink flower tucked behind his ear. He's wearing a green sweater vest over a white button-up shirt, beige shorts and black shoes. It's clear as day that he's a shy one, with a dose of insecurity -based on his body language-.

His teal eyes are kind. The blue in them is so light that they almost look like they're made out of glass... or the glass-like effect is due to how he's still sniffling and wiping tears off his delicate face. He's beautiful, fragile looking.

Have you been staring? Oops-

You don't want to make him feel any worse. AUBREY made him feel trashy enough.

"Thank you..."

His voice is shaky and soft. You nod in response. Oh gosh, you don't have it in you to leave him alone after what he just went through.

"Don't mention it..."

A pinkish blush surfaces on his cheeks and he starts fidgeting with the hem of his sweater vest.

"I- I- I... You really shouldn't have bothered with me... But I'm grateful for the way you interfered. Really."

"Told you it wasn't any trouble. Now, now... What's your name?"

"I'm BASIL. It's very nice to meet you."

How he manages to smile after the crap he endured momente ago is beyond you.

"I... I have some junk food in this bag. We can share it."

You impress yourself.

Spontaneousness means following your heart and you can't help but melt a little inside at his surprised and flustered expression.

"Are you sure? It's just... You bought these for your own enjoyment. I- I wouldn't like to be a nuisance... Y- you really don't have to share your food with me."

"Pick a bench."

BASIL complies silently, his gaze finding an unoccupied bench on a quiet corner.

"...that one?"

"Cool."

You begin walking towards the selected bench. Casting a quick glance behind, you notice that BASIL still is frozen in place, not believing you're not seeing him as a burden and that you actually want his company.

"C'mon!"

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. His melancholy and anxiousness are the results of MARI's death, combined with AUBREY' bullying. Obviously, you wouldn't even imagine the first reason.

You sit in a slightly awkward, slightly soothing silence. You handed him one of the cans of lemonade and opened a pack of gummies, placing it between you.

"Thank you."

The eye contact he makes is fleeting, but you mentally give him kudos for trying.

"So, what was all this fuss about?"

"With AUBREY?"

"Yeah, not that I care about her stupid name."

BASIL makes a choked sound, maybe a failed attempt to chuckle.

"It's... It's just a misunderstanding. I don't want to tire you with the details."

"You won't tire me. I asked for the full story. You have my permission to start talking non-stop."

"You're very straightforward... You remind me of a friend of mine, KEL"

"Um, I really don't know anyone around here."

"That's okay. You know me now."

You smile at that. He blushes and looks at his shoes. Unbeknown to you, BASIL is starting to develop a strong sense of devotion towards you. You rescued him from the Hooligans, you're patient with him, you're even sharing your precious snacks!

"About the misunderstanding... I don't want to make you see AUBREY in a bad light because of what I'll say."

"She was so cruel to you! How can you defend her?!"

"We used to be friends and-

...she's been through a lot."

"That's not enough to justify her behaviour."

A shrug. He knows you're right. He drops the talk about AUBREY.

"I- I enjoy... enjoyed taking pictures. My memories with my friends are my most treasured possessions. It's nice to be able to capture a whole memory in just a single frame."

There's something really pleasant in his voice. BASIL still is nervous and flustered, however, he now appears to be more willing to talk and more at ease in your presence.

"And that's why I kept a PHOTO ALBUM that contained all the memories I made with my friends..."

"That's interesting... and sweet. Still, I haven't heard anything about misunderstandings."

A sad sigh.

"Are you sure I'm not making you bored with all the talking?"

"I'm invested, you can't stop now."

You sip your lemonade and he chews another gummie. BASIL can't suppress a smile. A sincere one at that, because it reaches his teal eyes. It's been a long time since he had any human contact with someone who isn't Polly.

From what he tells you, the misunderstanding happened because AUBREY got angry at him and stole his PHOTO ALBUM, thinking he had vandalized the photos, even though the photos were actually tampered with by another friend of theirs. She's practically blaming him for something he didn't do.

You want to ask him why would that other friend do such a thing in the first place, but something in his gaze holds you back from doing so.

Luckily, after his explanation of why that girl hates him, you move on to discussing lighter subjects. You don't even realise how much time has passed as you listen to him talk about his plants. That boy has quite the green thumb.

Whether it's some good old gardening, or tending to flowers, to trees, even growing vegetables... he's done it. You're certain his house must look very fairytale-like.

It's afternoon now! Did you spend the whole day rumbling with BASIL? Are you ready to say goodbye? No

"You can come over for dinner. My granny will be more than happy to have you."

BASIL's usual anxiousness gives way to excitement. Grandparents are a sensitive topic to him, but he's so giddy at the prospect of having you as a friend that he doesn't get triggered by the mention of your grandma. In all honesty, your invitation has his stomach doing backflips... That's not something he's felt for a friend before.

Strange.

✿

Chicken with rice is today's main course, with apple pie for dessert. BASIL seemed really pleased, but you're not the biggest fan of pies. So you let him have your own slice as well. It's a good thing you took your dessert in your bedroom, otherwise grandma wouldn't let you rest without eating at least half a slice.

"You have a big Lego collection", observes BASIL from his esteemed place at the edge of your bed. You're sitting right next to him.

"Yeah I know, but I've kind of grown out of it as of late."

Your gazes meet almost involuntarily and you're sure that you're sharing the exact same thought. Moments like this have you believing in telepathy.

The evening passes by with you and him building brick houses, castles and more. You start simple, following the instructions of each set. Soon though, you both allow your creativity to take control.

BASIL has seen many butterflies in his garden, but he never thought possible he'd be able to feel them flutter their wings in his stomach.

When it's time for him to leave, he has a pitiful expression on his face.

"Don't worry, you can come over again tomorrow."

"R- really? I mean... I'd really like it if we kept in touch."

✿

In the morning, the door bell wakes you up. You sit up slowly, stretching and rubbing the sleepiness off your eyes. It's a bit early for you, but you go answer the door anyway.

Your hair is a mess, your thoughts a blur. Who could it even be?

"Good morning! I wanted to give this!"

Here stands Basil, handing you a little flower pot.

"Oh... Hello. What's th- What kind of flower is that?"

He smiles brightly as you take the pot in your hands.

"I'm glad you asked. These are daffodils! As you can see they have a bright and joyful yellow colour. Daffodils are strong, resilient flowers that pop up year after year!"

You're happy. He makes you happy, even when you're hella eepy.

"They symbolize friendship... as well as new beginnings! They're one of the first signs of Spring. Well, you're my new friend, so I thought that you should have them!"

"And what about the new beginnings aspect?"

Another smile.

"Oh! Don't worry about that!"

You'll never know it, but you saved BASIL in the word's truest meaning. He gives you a quick but tight hug.

"That's all for now! I have to visit my granny at the hospital! But we can meet afterwards!"

Once he closes his mouth, you both fall silent and turn tomato red. You manage a smirk and then you're both laughing, giggling and planning your day.

Thank you so much for reading!💛🌼

Support a struggling writer! PayPal link🌻

My masterlist -> click here

The dividers are by @saradika-graphics .

37 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 3 months ago

Text

Bumps in the Night

Summary: Bucky moves into a house in a small town. Rumoured to be haunted, he deals with some surprises that wake him in the night.

Length: 4.2K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, several Avengers, original male character.

Warnings: Cursing, talk of death and haunting.

Author notes: Just a little something for Hallowe’en.

It all started when Bucky Barnes bought a house in a small, quiet town, one that sat empty for over a year because the previous owner died there. According to the rumour mill, she had been murdered and haunted the house. According to the realtor she died of natural causes. Bucky didn't care either way.

"I've seen a lot in my life, and I don't believe in ghosts. The price was right, the inspection showed being empty for a while didn't hurt anything, so I made an offer, and it was accepted. I'll fix it up, clean up the yard, and plant some flowers. I figure in a short time I'll have a nice little place to get away from all of you."

The "you" being the other Avengers who loved to play practical jokes on him. It wasn't that he didn't like them but there were times where their presence irritated him and he wanted a place of his own to do what he wanted, when he wanted, without interruption. On the day Bucky took possession of the house, several of them stood in front of the property with him, shaking their heads at the foot tall grass, overgrown shrubs, and dried out plants that didn't survive not being watered regularly.

"It looks like a ghost house," said Yelena, her face scrunched up in disapproval.

"I gotta say, Buck, she's right," added Sam, stepping gingerly onto the porch, testing the wooden boards. "I wouldn't stay overnight here. You don't know what's living in the walls or under the floorboards."

"It's Old Mary you should be worried about," said an unfamiliar voice. They all turned to see an older man out on the sidewalk, who gestured at the house. "She was a strange one, always muttering about the noises, especially the ones at night. You wouldn't catch me stepping foot into the place, much less living there. I doubt you'll last the week."

He sniffed then kept on walking. Sam and the others looked at each other then at Bucky, who shrugged and stepped inside. Hesitantly, they stepped inside to join him, wrinkling their noses at the musty smell of a place that had sat empty and closed up for too long. A layer of dust was on everything, and several visible spider webs lent a spooky air to the place. As far as Bucky was concerned it was a place full of potential and he soon directed his friends, who had agreed to help him clean the place before he moved his furniture in, towards various tasks. With cleaning supplies handed out to everyone, they swept, dusted, vacuumed, washed windows, and opened them to let in the fresh air, and bagged up any remaining trash left from when the company hired by the trustee finished clearing the house the previous year. By the end of the day, everything inside the house looked and smelled better. Once he was settled, he would repaint everything.

Returning to the rental house they booked for the weekend, Bucky treated them all to pizza and beer, thanking them for their help.

"Tomorrow, we'll move my furniture in," he said. "The appliances will be delivered, and we can set them up. By tomorrow night, I can officially start living in my house. This rental is booked for tomorrow night for the rest of you."

"What about the yard?" asked Joaquin. "Do you want help with that?"

"Sure."

Bucky listed off all that needed to be done there, including mowing and edge trimming the lawn, cutting back or pulling out shrubs, pulling out dead plants, pruning the trees and identifying anything on the outside of the house that needed fixing. With a couple volunteering to tackle the yard Bucky was sure by this time on the following night, the house would be transformed.

After making everyone a full breakfast, Bucky and the others went to the house, waiting for the moving company to drop off the pod that held his furniture and other possessions. He already bought a lawn mower, and some assorted tools. Joaquin volunteered to assemble it, then went for some gas to power it. While he was gone, the pod arrived, followed shortly by the appliance delivery truck. As the delivery people set up the appliances everyone else moved the furniture and boxes in. Working throughout the day, the whole operation rivalled any mission they had ever planned or executed. Everything was in place inside, the lawn was mowed, a pile of pruned branches and pulled out plants waited for disposal at another time. Before the sun got too low, Bucky made a quick visit to the grocery store, buying the makings for burgers he cooked on his barbecue grill. He made sure everyone had a cold drink as they sprawled over some previously purchased lawn chairs in the back yard. Raising his beer to his work colleagues and friends, he thanked them again for their hard work on his behalf.

"So, if any of you wish to spend the night, I have two spare bedrooms," he announced. "Otherwise, I'll feed you all breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the compound."

No one took him up on his offer and they said their good nights, before returning to the rental, leaving Bucky behind in his home. He finished cleaning up from the meal, wiping down the counters. Then he looked around with satisfaction, turned off the lights and went to the master bedroom. After washing up and brushing his teeth, he changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt then slipped under the covers of his bed. Turning off the bedside lamp, he lay in the dark, pleased that he had good friends willing to help him make this house a home.

Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak.

Bucky opened one eye. With a grunt, he closed it and snuggled back into his pillow.

Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak.

"What the hell?" he muttered, sitting up, listening, then checking the time. "What is that?"

The sound came again, and he got out of bed, using his enhanced hearing to trace its origin outside. He followed the sound to a small ornamental windmill in the yard, that was spinning as a breeze had come up in the night.

"I don't remember there being a windmill," he said aloud, going over to the lawn ornament.

A small section of it rubbed against the frame, producing the offending squeak sound as it turned in the breeze. Using the strength in his hand, he bent the section back, so it was no longer making contact. He stood there for several minutes, making sure, before he made his way back to the house. Getting back into bed, he breathed deeply several times, then closed his eyes.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

"What now?" he said, sitting up in the bed. He checked his phone for the time. "One hour. One fucking hour."

Scratching his head, he shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sound. It didn't come but he was awake now and with a sigh, he went into the kitchen, got himself a drink of water and sat in the semi-dark of the living room, lit only by the light of the full moon that leaked in from the cracks in the blinds. After finishing his drink, he laid back on the couch, only to be awakened an hour later by the doorbell ringing. Startled by it, he jumped up and unlocked the door, yanking it open, only to see no one there.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed, then opened the screen door and went out onto the porch, then onto the sidewalk, watching and listening for anyone who might have pressed it as a practical joke. A practical joke. "Alright, you guys. Fun's over. I'm going back to bed now." He listened for the sound of laughter, or a suppressed giggle but there was nothing. "I'm going back inside now. Here I go, walking up my sidewalk to the house."

For a second, he thought he could hear something like a tiny sneeze, but there was nothing more and he stalked back inside, locking the door, then he looked out the window for several minutes before returning to the couch. Damned if he was going to let his so-called friends spook him on his first night in the house. Stubbornly, he sat there, his arms folded over his chest, and a scowl on his face, just waiting for the next sound.

His cell phone ringing in the bedroom woke Bucky up from his position on the couch, and he automatically raced there to answer it. Sam's number was on the call display.

"Hey," said his friend. "We're about ready to leave here. Does that offer of breakfast still stand?"

Bucky blinked his eyes, then checked the time on the phone. It was after 9 am. He never slept that late.

"Bucky, is everything okay?"

"Um, yeah, come on over. I slept in, that's all. I'll unlock the door in case you get here while I'm still in the shower."

Bucky started up the coffee maker then headed for his shower. After he finished and got dressed, he went to the kitchen, where Sam had already started making breakfast. He turned as Bucky entered, then frowned when he saw his friend's face.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked. "You look terrible."

"Do I? I woke up several times during the night," replied Bucky, pouring himself a coffee. "Just getting used to a new place, I guess."

Feeling better after he had more coffee, he made up some pancakes while Sam worked on the bacon and eggs. Everyone ate their fill and helped clean up after. Once again, Bucky thanked everyone for helping him out, then walked them to their vehicles for a final goodbye. Finally, he was alone, and he stood in the middle of the living room. There were several boxes of books and records that needed to be unpacked and shelved. That didn't take long, and he unpacked the remaining few boxes of assorted bedding and other linens. He made another trip to the grocery, buying essentials as well as enough to make some meals for a few days. After some lunch he worked on setting up the double garage, large enough to hold his truck and motorcycle.

Throughout the afternoon, several more neighbours walked by, curious to see the man who bought Old Mary's property. A few came closer to say hi and introduce themselves. All had heard of him and were either too polite to comment on his past or truly didn't care. They were actually quite friendly, considering Bucky was a stranger. Only one person brought up the rumour that the property was haunted but dismissed it as Mary not being very sociable. They thought she spread the tale to avoid having company.

"Can I ask you a question?" Bucky looked hopefully at the guy. "Do the kids around here do pranks ... like ring the doorbells at night?"

"No, most people have those video cameras on their doorbells," replied the man. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Anyone who rings it at night is recorded. Ringing doorbells haven't been an issue for a while just because of that. People around here take their privacy pretty seriously. You have one on yours, don't you?"

Bucky shook his head. The man showed him the brand information on his phone, texting it so that Bucky could get his own. It was something to think about and he seriously considered picking one up but didn't get to it before the stores closed just after the dinner hour. By the time Bucky went to bed, after a very quiet and pleasant evening spent reading and listening to music, it wasn't even a priority for the next day. That's how relaxed he felt. With several yawns, Bucky snuggled under the covers of his bed, ready to embrace sleep.

Only a few hours later a loud crack made Bucky sit upright in the bed. It sounded like wood being broken and for a moment, he wondered if someone was trying to break into the garage to steal his motorcycle. Leaping out of bed he went to the kitchen, looking out the window at the separate building but there was no one there. The cracking sound happened again, making Bucky's head swivel in the direction of the distinctive noise. It was coming from the pile of pruned branches still in his back yard. Something was in the pile.

With the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ear, Bucky grabbed a flashlight and opened the back door. Quietly, he stepped onto the patio, then approached the debris pile, the sounds of cracking wood getting louder and louder. Turning the flashlight on, he was startled by the reflection from two eyes, low to the ground. Then the eyes looked elsewhere, and the light revealed a furry creature with a flat tail ... a beaver.

"Jesus Christ," sighed Bucky, then he laughed. "Where the hell did you come from?"

The beaver ignored him, then succeeded in dragging a branch out of the pile. Bucky watched it disappear into a wooded area at the back end of his property, remembering there was a pond about half a mile away. That was a long way to go for wood. He stood in his yard with the flashlight off, looking up at the night sky, pleased at how many stars were visible. That was when he heard his doorbell ring again and he quickly crept around the side of his house peeking out towards the front door. There was no one there. The porch was empty, as was the sidewalk and the street, as far as he could see in either direction. Who was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the night?

Returning to the back door he went inside, locking up and leaving the flashlight on the counter. Was his house haunted? Almost at once, he discounted that. He didn't believe in ghosts or an afterlife. Just like there was an explanation for the squeak sound last night and the wood cracking sound tonight, he was sure there was an explanation for the thumping sound and the doorbell ringing. First thing after breakfast he would go to the hardware store and pick up a doorbell camera. In the meantime, his bed was calling. With a groan, he buried himself under the covers, closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hoping for sleep.

Something falling on the porch woke Bucky up and he leaped out of bed, rushing to the front door. Unlocking it, he stumbled out onto the space, startled to see a gift basket on its side; its contents strewn over the porch. Where did that come from? It wasn't there last night, was it? There was a card sticking out that he picked up and opened.

Welcome to the neighbourhood!

We hope you enjoy this little offer of hospitality from your friendly Neighbourhood Watch Association.

Why it was delivered so early in the morning was beyond Bucky, but perhaps the people who delivered it were early risers. It just seemed strange that an organization dedicated to keeping the neighbourhood safe would drop it off without any word. Sighing, he kneeled down and put everything back into the basket, then picked it up and took it inside. It was a standard gift basket of coffee, cookies, crackers, some different flavoured jellies in small jars, and a salami with teeth marks in it. They weren't human teeth marks as they were too small but perhaps it was a wild animal, like a raccoon, or something. The thought of Rocket trying to steal Bucky's gift basket suddenly filled his head and he chuckled. Then, he became serious quickly. If the night noises were because of a raccoon he needed to make sure it couldn't get into the house and set up a nest anywhere. That meant checking the foundation, soffits, and vents for any access points.

"Guess I have my day cut out for me," he said to himself. "Homeowner problems."

After installing the doorbell camera that he bought in the morning at the hardware store, Bucky checked the foundation for any sign of small animal entry but didn't find anything. He went up a ladder next and checked the soffits and air vents, not finding any signs of animals trying to get in there either. A neighbour stopped by while he was doing it and said there weren't many raccoons around.

"There are squirrels and some feral cats," he said. "Old Mary used to feed the cats. Maybe they think she's back after being away for a while. The county will lend you some traps if you want to take that route. Of course, they'll go to the animal shelter and likely be put down."

That didn't appeal to Bucky, but he could stay up and monitor the front door. It was no different than a stakeout and he had done enough of them in his life. With the doorbell camera installed he could easily find out who the offending party was and go from there. If it was a person, then he would have a face to look for. If it was an animal, then he could set a trap. Either way, he would find out who or what was interrupting his sleep and deal with it, once and for all.

By the time it got dark, Bucky was ready for what the night would bring. He charged his phone and tested the app that would give him access to the doorbell camera. Just in case it was a person doing this he went through his normal routine of watching some television before turning out the lights and going to his bedroom. It would let them think that he didn't have a clue. After a few minutes there, he turned out the lights and made his way to the kitchen, making himself some coffee in the dark. With his mug in hand, he settled in the living room, sipping his coffee and waiting for the moment when the perpetrator rang his doorbell. He waited, drank more coffee, and waited, and waited some more. Feeling the need to go to the bathroom, he quickly went there. Right in the middle of relieving himself the doorbell rang.

"Fuck," he swore, willing his bladder to empty faster.

Zipping up he went to the window closest to the door, but the front porch was empty. There was no one there and from what he could see of the street it was quiet. Silently fuming, he picked his phone up and brought up the footage from the last 10 minutes. Carefully, he watched it. There was nothing visible to him, until suddenly something jumped from just out of frame and hit the doorbell button.

"What the hell?" he muttered, replaying it.

The screen on his phone was too small to make out what it was so he turned his TV on and looked up on his phone how to transfer what he was seeing on that onto the TV screen. Over and over, he watched the scene, not quite believing what he was seeing. It defied belief, really, that it was even possible. At least now, he could plan on how to deal with it. In the meantime, there was one thing he could do and all it would cost him was a bit of food.

That night, he set the trap, with some cat food and waited for the sound of it being sprung to tell him he caught the cat that was jumping up to ring his doorbell. Why it did that he didn't know but apparently it was something that some cats figured out and did because they could be little shits. The cat, maybe a year old at most, was a little feral. But once it realized that it couldn't hurt Bucky as he bathed it in flea wash, it settled down pretty well. It was a she, a white furred thing with the prettiest blue eyes and an attitude that he suspected was caused by deafness because she sure ignored his words those first few days. But Alpine, as he named her, settled in quite well and the two became quite friendly with each other.

Later that week, when the sun was low in the sky and sending a golden glow out over the abundant trees in the street, Bucky sat on his porch, taking in the ambience. With Alpine on his lap, he listened to the sounds of life that reached him from much of the neighbourhood. The laughter of children, as they played tag or hide n seek made him smile with some fond memories. He could hear the sizzle of steaks or burgers on a barbecue grill from places where the residents were having a late supper. The sound of television stations playing Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune reminded him his cable TV set up was the next day. Then the old man who had stopped by on moving day to warn Bucky of Old Mary shuffled by, stopping again at the end of the driveway. He peered at Bucky from under his straw fedora.

"You still here, young fella?" he asked.

Bucky smiled, knowing he was likely at least 20 years older than this guy.

"I'm still here, old timer," he replied. "Join me for a lemonade or a beer?"

The old man considered it, then nodded and slowly walked towards where Bucky sat. With a groan, he sat in the wooden deck chair that was assembled just that day. Bucky raised the lemonade pitcher, but the old man shook his head. Reaching into the cooler beside his chair, Bucky pulled out a beer and twisted off the cap, handing it to the old man. He raised his own beer to the man, then waited for him to sip from his bottle before he drank from his own. They both sighed after, looking out over the street, then the old man gestured to the cat.

"Feral?"

"Yup. She was ringing my doorbell at night and trying to get in a window. I think something was chasing her."

"Yup, that'll do it. She's a pretty little thing. Looks like she'll be a good companion to you."

The old man reached over and scratched Alpine behind the ear. She actually allowed it, bursting out in a loud purr which made them both smile.

"It's a nice town," said Bucky. "I think I'm going to like living here."

"The noises didn't scare you off?"

"No. I figured out what was making them," he answered. He looked at his gloved hand. "I can handle myself."

"I know that," said the old man, who then extended his hand. "Fred Harris. Recognized you that first day. You've had quite a life."

Bucky smiled. "You could say that. Now, I just want some peace and quiet."

Fred nodded his head, then sipped his beer. "Don't we all?" He was quiet for a bit then cleared his throat. "You ever deal with werewolves in your line of work?"

That was a surprising thing to ask.

"Why?"

A slow smile spread across Fred's face. "Let's just say that we have a bit of a problem every full moon. I figure with your background and expertise with a sniper rifle that you can be of service to the community. It was likely a were wolf that was chasing your little kitty there. She's probably the last one to survive. He got to Mary, you know. Finished her off in the back yard. Very gruesome but she would go out at night and feed the feral cats."

Bucky looked at Fred in disbelief. Then the old man drained his beer and stood up, before offering his hand to Bucky once more.

"I best be getting home before Antiques Roadshow comes on. You know, having you here has made everyone feel a lot safer. I'm sure you'll fit right in, Bucky. Welcome to Wolf Heights."

He tipped his hat and slowly walked back out to the street, returning in the direction he came from. Bucky watched him, a growing sense of dismay filling his whole being. Then he heard the sounds of kids being called in as the streetlights came on and something flipped on inside of him. With a deep breath, he scratched Alpine behind the ear. This town, these people, needed Bucky Barnes. It's why they had been so friendly to him. They were waiting for someone like him to move into the community. He had vowed never to take another human life, but werewolves weren't human, not anymore. With his skills, a rifle, and some silver bullets, he could protect the people in this town, his town now. Yeah, this was home.

One Shots Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #one shot #spooky vibes #small town #halloween #spooky season

28 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

Note

was i the asshole for refusing to pay a private contractor what they claimed i owed?

preface: i rent a townhouse that has both a front and a back yard, and the lawn mower broke (landlord refuses to fix it), so i was forced to find a landscaping company locally who could mow the grass in spring and summertime. i hate mowing so no real loss, plus i get to support local small businesses! score!

everyone around here sucks at communication (as in they just don't show up or respond to any texts, calls, or emails even when Maureen From The HOA is breathing down your neck) except for one company i've been using religiously ever since i found them. love these guys. quality work, excellent communication, affordable, flexible, these guys are the best and i have referred my neighbors to them as well.

at the beginning of spring 2023, money was kinda tight so i asked if they could only mow every three weeks. they told me no dice, only in two-week increments because they have a rolling scheduling of which neighborhoods get hit up on certain weeks. fair enough. i ask for a mow every four weeks. sure, the grass will get a little tall, but the HOA can shut up.

they come every two weeks instead and text AFTER they've already done the work, so i have to pay for it. i pay them promptly, but ask if they can please honor my wishes for it to be every four weeks, as we discussed. they honor that... once. and then go back to every two weeks. by this time, the grass is shooting up faster than expected and i still hate the HOA, so i sigh and let it go. every two weeks it is.

fast forward to late autumn as winter's rolling in and i'm writing the check for the last mow of the season when the guy calls and says "oh btw you owe hundreds of dollars we never told you about until just now".

somehow, they got it in their heads that they mowed my lawn every single week, and should be paid for that. not once did that happen. not only was there no communication about them having been there OR needing payment (remember how i said they were so good about communication? i have texts going back the entire season where they message me "hey we mowed your lawn today" every two weeks exactly, and what sense does it make for them to forget to say anything every other week on the nose?), but i think i would have noticed grass getting shorter for no reason. also remember how i specifically told them i wanted a mow every four weeks and never actually rescinded that request? it's in writing. it's in the text log. at no point did i ever approve this "weekly" work, even if they'd actually done it (which they didn't).

thing is, these guys are prompt and reliable. they're the best option i've got around these parts. they really don't strike me as the types to pull a fast one on me or scam me. i think it was a genuine, honest mistake and they got my house mixed up with someone else's in the ledger, and now they're out the money for work they legitimately performed... just not for me. i recommended them to my neighbors, remember? not impossible they got the house numbers for my street mixed up. a 6 can look like an 8, or a 7 like a 1 if your handwriting smudges.

i got so caught up in my kneejerk response of "hey what the fuck do you mean i owe money for work i told you i didn't want and you didn't actually do" that i didn't work with them to try to figure out what actually happened here, and now a local business got screwed over. WITAH?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

55 notes · View notes

zippidi-dooda · 7 months ago

Text

"Hey! You're back!"

You jumped slightly at the voice.

One hand gripped the tall, black iron bars of the gate you had just jumped over as you turned to face the one who spoke.

"So, how goes the journey? Give me all the details!"

It was, "Thoma!"

The blond ws beaming as he ran across the freshly mowed lawn, carrying a large platter, covered by black domes.

You relaxed your stance, releasing the gate, and smiled back, running to meet him halfway.

You threw your arms around him, face burying into his chest. He lifted up the platter, wrapping his other hand around you to hold you closer.

"I missed you," he kissed the side of your head.

"Hehe, I missed you too."

Thoma kept his hold on you as he led you further away from the gate. "Gosh, it's gotten so late, you tired? I can start you up a nice bath. Oh, and I already have a room prepared for you just in case you decide you want to stay this time, your sheets ready, fresh and warm. And... I can offer myself if you don't mind my company ...?"

You looked up at him with a sigh. "Oh, Thoma ...."

Why did he always have to be so sweet?

"But uh, you can answer that later," He took your hand and helped you take a seat on the cool grass.

Then he sat down, placing the tray in front of you. When the domes covering it were lifted, you were hit by a wave of Thoma's homecooking.

The food looked amazing, as always, and you couldn't be more happy that you had met a man who could cook so well.

"I made your favorite! Hope you're hungry."

As if on cue, your stomach growled. Loudly.

"S-sorry."

"Pfft, hahaha! Don't worry, I'm glad you are. Here," Thoma, scooped a fork full of food.

He blew twice, cupping a hand under it so it wouldn't fall and brought it closer to you, "say ahh!"

You blushed, "T-Thoma?!"

He laughed again, "c'mon, can't I do a little to help you relax? Open up!"

"T-Thoma, no! I can do it myse-mmh!"

"Ahh! Yum! That's it, good girl," Thoma smiled as he managed to place the food in your mouth. "So, how is it? Is it missing anything?"

You averted your eyes, chewing slowly, embarrassed but still savoring the meal.

"It's perfect."

"Great! You know, I wasn't quite sure if ...." Thoma continued to explain his thoughts through the cooking process, hand feeding you until the food was all gone.

You watched him carefully.

He had always been so thoughtful, a perfect gentleman. He was the reason you still had your freedom, choosing to let you go when you had come to rob the Kamisato estate instead of turning you in. Choosing to seek you out and offer help ever since.

He knew you still hadn't given up your ways, yet he was still more than happy to lend you his room as a hideout after each escapade.

His unwavering kindness made you feel guilty each time you returned here.

Perhaps he had done the same as you once before.

Or maybe, he was helping the Kamisatos just the same.

That thought prevented you from trusting him fully.

"... if you have the time, maybe we could go out tomorrow night? I already have it planned out, with all your favorite things in mind."

But when he spoke like that ...

"So, whaddya say? Care to see just how much I've missed ya?"

How were you supposed to not lean into his every word?

"I think I can try to be free tomorrow," you smiled.

Lights flashed in the distance, sirens blaring in their wake.

"Uh, why don't we finish this inside tonight."

"Sure thing! Here, just take my hand, I can handle the rest."

---

Had a dream, here's how it went. Can't remember how it ended so this might have read weird at the end. Hope the sweet Thoma visits you in your dreams

#genshin impact #genshin thoma #thoma x reader #x reader #thoma

33 notes · View notes

harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 6 days ago

Text

It's Day Five of @bucktommyfluffebruary, so it's time for Mundane Chores. Most of these have been set at different points in the same timeline I created where they got back together in early January 2025. This is set right about now, except it's a magical version of LA that hasn't been dealing with fires or rain because I just want them to have a nice day outside. This is also on AO3 over here!

The weather’s nice enough that Tommy finally decides he needs to stop putting off dealing with the yard. He has weeds to pull and a lawn to mow and bushes to trim back and plants to look over. It’s not his favorite thing to do, but he doesn’t mind it.

He’s trimming the rose bush that he’s been somewhat neglectful of lately when his phone rings, and he answers it when his earbud informs him it’s Evan.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he says.

“Just woke up,” Evan says, his voice still scratchy from sleep. Tommy smiles, imagining the mess of curls on his head and the drooping eyelids. “Whatcha doing?”

“Yard work.”

“Mm. Want some help?”

The offer surprises him into stillness, the shears poised over an unusually long, thorny branch that he doesn’t like the look of. “You don’t have to—”

“Too late, already out of bed.”

He feels exasperated fondness at the sudden note of defiant determination in his boyfriend’s voice. “You can come keep me company if you want.”

There’s the sound of a yawn on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

“Bye, Evan.”

He shakes his head and goes back to pruning the rosebush. By the time Evan arrives thirty minutes later, he’s dumping a pile of trimmings into the green bin.

“Hey,” Evan says with an easy grin. He’s holding two cups of coffee, has on sunglasses, and he’s dressed for yard work. He’s wearing what looks to be paint-stained basketball shorts and a faded t-shirt for an LAFD fundraiser from 2016.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy says, accepting the coffee and a kiss.

He doesn’t actually expect Evan to do any yard work, but Evan does it. He and Tommy divide and conquer the weeds, and he looks up natural ways of keeping them from coming back while Tommy checks to see if his lawnmower is charged. The patch of grass is small, because Tommy hates lawns and planted as many drought-resistant plants as possible in his front yard, so he’s able to take care of it while Evan carefully starts checking the plants for dead spots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a landscaping date before,” Tommy comments as he empties the grass clippings into the green bin.

“Me either,” Evan says, grinning. “But I kinda miss doing stuff like this. Sometimes I’d have to do yard work if I was grounded.”

“Only sometimes?”

“They hired a gardener,” he explains.

Tommy hums and brushes his hands off before joining him in tending to the plants. “I did all the yard work growing up.”

Evan grimaces. “That kinda sucks.”

“Kept me out of the house,” he says with a shrug.

“I get that,” Evan says, and Tommy knows he does. They know things about each other now, because they’ve been better about talking since they got back together, no longer afraid of scaring the other one off.

The rest of the landscaping goes fast with two people, since Tommy doesn’t have much of a yard to speak of. The back is mostly fruit trees and a clover lawn that hasn’t gotten too out of control, so he leaves it alone in favor of them grabbing a few buckets of lemons and plums. Evan talks about making curd and preserves out of them, and Tommy thinks it sounds nice. He usually just brings in a bunch to work for people to take and keeps a few for himself for snacking or cooking, depending on the fruit and the season.

They finish up and head inside for water and lunch, and Evan raises an eyebrow at his barren fridge.

“I was going to go shopping today,” Tommy says with a pointed look.

“We can go after we eat,” Evan says, grabbing the meager offerings for what turns out to be eggs and toast, since that’s about all Tommy has the ingredients for.

They take a quick shower that becomes a handsy shower and get dressed to go to the store. Evan has clothes at Tommy’s, both intentionally and on accident. He has a drawer, but he’s also left a lot of stuff at his house and has had quite a few things stolen by Tommy. It’s both a hazard and benefit to having a boyfriend who’s about the same size as you.

Evan rips the list from the pad on the fridge and asks if he needs anything else. While Tommy pokes around and tells him as he thinks of things, Evan writes it down and reads it back to him when he’s done. Once Tommy’s satisfied, they hop in the truck and go down the road to Ralph’s.

They’re not very efficient shoppers, because they get distracted by weird things and have to show each other, so it’s actually easier for them to stick together rather than split up. They’d tried that a few times and spent half the time looking for each other with some weird flavor of Oreos or cereal clutched in their hand. Instead, they’re happy to take turns pushing the cart while the other one pulls stuff off the shelves or from the bins. They grab things that aren’t on the list that sound good or weird but possibly good, and they talk about what the rest of their week looks like and the random bullshit they’ve had to deal with at work that isn’t actually saving people or putting out fires.

By the time they reach the register, their cart is full and Evan is leaning against Tommy because his leg is bugging him a little. They make small talk with the checkout clerk and make her crack a smile even though she looks exhausted. Tommy likes that Evan also does things like that. He doesn’t keep his head down and push through his day, he actually looks around and sees what other people are doing.

At home, Tommy puts away groceries after making Evan sit with his leg propped on one of the other chairs at the kitchen table. He fishes out one of the bags of chips, some new brand of cookies he’s never heard of, and the grapes they’d grabbed. When he’s done putting everything else away, they curl up on the couch with their snacks and eat while Tommy turns on an old Bob Ross episode.

“Today’s been nice,” Evan says, popping a grape in his mouth.

Tommy smiles and cuddles up against him. “Yeah, it has.”

“Got anything else planned?”

“Nah,” he says, patting Evan’s belly and leaning into the fingers that start toying with his hair. “Just laundry, but I can do that whenever.”

They fall asleep on the couch to the gentle sound of a mountainscape being painted, and it’s one of the best days Tommy’s had in a long time.

–

#bucktommy #my fic #bucktommy fluffebruary

17 notes · View notes

landscapingsunusa · 2 months ago

Text

The Importance Of Local Grass Mowing Services

A well-kept lawn indicates care and attention to detail, which may improve the aesthetics and value of any property. Perfection demands more than simply occasional maintenance; it necessitates ongoing attention and competence. Joining a professional team will ensure that your lawn is healthy, vibrant, and free of typical issues all year.

Read More - https://sunusa.hashnode.dev/the-importance-of-local-grass-mowing-services

#Local Grass Mowing Service #Leaves Removal Services Montgomery County #Delaware Lawn Care Companies

0 notes

oncewhenalongtimeago · 5 months ago

Text

A Marble in a Mixed Bag

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Reader

Words: 814

Some affections reach past the bounds of universes.

Tags: oneshot, nostalgia, hope, pre-httyd 1, gender neutral reader, gn!reader

Polyvinyl Chloride and gloss, plastic grass pieces under faux brown boots, brushed and scratched to create the illusion of furs- You ogled at it through the glass window, smudged by the oils and debris of the people before you.

Hot air brushed back up against your face, warm and heated, nearly suffocating, trapped in the distance between your mouth and the glass, of which there was little.

You weren't sure which company had made it, but you could imagine what the site had looked like on preorder, seedy and poorly text-ed, all garish color of border-less screen.

Airbrushed hair and cheeks, dappled freckles along two cheeks and a dandy, uneven wry grin frame just above a spruced shirt in the green tunic style- It was a piece of art, a statuette, and very much out of your price range.

It was an unprofessional shop, dark and stuffed and almost messy but really not in a very homey way, with maybe imports and some other odd, geeky things hidden behind.

People moved to and fro behind you, sweaty mall crowds, musty with the smell and feel of body heat and cheap fabrics and perfumes and stiff, swaying plastic bags, filling what space was left with mindless, enthused chatter, nearly incomprehensible, words lost in the sea of many bodies.

You hardly paid them any mind. You hardly paid it all any mind- you were too busy yearning.

It was quite the odd one out compared to the large plastic mechas besides, or perhaps a few boxes away, packaged and place tightly together with too-close-together text and full box sides and millions of mark-down stickers in white and yellow, all grays and bright blues and reds and other fanciful colors, with garish metal fillings and nearly transparent resin.

Sickly mall lights glinted against shiny, beaded eyes, covered in a thin film of whatever hardened chemical, covering ivory white and a timid neutral green. It was so clear, nearly square, curving over a round surface. You could nearly see the lines of the ceiling way up in its reflection, clear as it was, slightly affected by the ever-present motion of the awning world behind you.

If eyes could sparkle- you something eager pressed against the corner of your eyes, your heart picking up in speed.

So strong was the feeling and the excitement in your chest that it threatening to have you shivering and shaking and your hands waving, floating, hopping on two feet, but you stayed still, jaw tensing, mouth curling upwards, hands coming up to hesitantly press against smooth, smudged, oily glass.

Mowing lawns, cutting hair, running around like a headless chicken, chores, hopes, dreams and wantings- you wanted.

Hiccup- well, he’d never been into dolls, but this was more a figure than a doll, like one of his cousin’s many carved warriors, all made up of dragon bone pieces and scratched wooden surfaces, stone helmets and mismatched, dull metal axes. The ones he’d paraded around just as he’d worn his own too-large helmet and had run around with wooden swords and shields that Hiccup had never been big enough to carry when he’d been young enough to play with them.

Of course he’d been jealous, but then he’d gotten you.

His fingertips grazing over its surface as he held onto its delicate middle with his other hand, feeling just as fond just as something else inside him felt nearly worshipful.

It had been made incredibly smooth with age, the feeling offset only by a set of notches in its side, scratches made on accident by trips and falls and the very rare drop.

You’d been lost for much too long. There was a feeling…

Childhood, of companionship, truest feelings and long-held assurance -the only one, the smallest, rag-yarn clay figure- he one he’d been given, a friend that he could keep and play with, play-fight with and foster happy moments.

Dusts and soots and oils left a mark against your frayed doll cheek raising recent memories of levers and axles and stoney forge fires, bolas and boulders and clogs and rolling wheels.

Something in his chest felt incredibly warm, looking over its scratched face, eyes clumsily drilled into the surface by the point of a dull knife, wooden and stone limb pieces attached haphazardly to one another, all worn cloth and rag, hair made of knotted, old wool- As if you, small and faux, looking back up at him with your own soft, cracked, tiny ball eyes, had somehow found something worthy in scrawny shoulders and mottled, freckled cheeks.

In them, there was something almost like a shine.

Admiration.

That’s what it was.

He’d nearly forgotten.

It gave him hope.

Maybe he could make something of himself.

Tonight, more than any other night, he had faith- tonight, he was going to make it, because now, more than ever, he had something to make it for.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #hiccup x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #httyd imagine

34 notes · View notes

rederiswrites · 8 months ago

Text

If you're wondering what we ARE going to do about all that poison ivy, and the general absolute shittiness of our fields, and for that matter what the fuck two people with no farming background and like...more than full-time work already are going to do with like sixteen acres of field anyway....we don't know.

Don't get me wrong, we have a lot of ideas. Most of which we either can't currently afford or for some other reason can't achieve. But some of which are lovely.

Rotational grazing, especially the high-density, frequently moved version sometimes known as "mob grazing", would eventually fix a lot of what's wrong with those fields. But not without way more animals than we have or even intend to have. We don't even have a "mob" TO graze. The sheep will eat some poison ivy, though it's not their favorite. They'll eat the leaves off the brambles, which is a pretty effective way to deplete the plant's stores and stunt it. They won't eat the Virginia Creeper.

But in a way, it doesn't matter, because we've spent nearly the entire last year moving the ewes through the smaller of the two fields, and they're only just getting back to where they started. In order to make a serious impact, they'd need to be grazing the same spot maybe every two months, depending on weather conditions. Not once a year. As I showed in a previous video, everywhere they go, they do visibly leave nitrogen, and we can actually see a slight improvement everywhere they've passed through. But it's not fast. And getting and caring for the...I don't know, fifty or so? sheep that would speed the process would make moving and caring for those sheep a full-time job neither of us has the capacity for. It's just not even an intention of ours. We've never really discussed a "cap", but I'd say that a "someday when we have real fencing and I'm healthy" number of sheep would still be twenty or thirty at the most.

The conventional, and arguable still best, way to fix the big field and its extreme fuckery would be to till and reseed. It would, believe it or not, still not eliminate all of the problem weeds, especially not the Virginia Creeper and Canada Thistle (which loves to grow back from root fragments and is resistant to normal herbicides). But it would be a huge start. We'd seed with a pasture mix that's full of plants that can handle being grazed down, and then mow where the sheep don't get to. I don't even know what it would cost to hire out all that work or rent the tools, but it's more than we have. It's like asking what it would cost to replace the siding on your house. I don't know, but I know I aint got it.

So for now, Jacob is spending a lot of hours just mowing. Mowing doesn't do as much as grazing, notably it doesn't leave nitrogen, but it does ensure that light is hitting the soil so that seeds there can sprout, and it does give the advantage to plants adapted for grazing (mainly grasses).

Eventually, the plan is to reforest several acres of the big field, using government programs. That also comes with the need to control understory growth for years until the trees mature enough to shade things out, but actually, help with that is part of some of the programs. They typically plant with a mix of natives--oak, tulip poplar, redbud...the mix varies based on what the contracted companies grew that year, apparently, but it's not really something you get to pick and choose. They come, they calculate their grid, they plant. But I don't think anything's to stop you coming through afterwards and planting your own selections in spots where saplings inevitably die. Pawpaw, white oak, American persimmon, hybrid chestnut... I dream of a day where we have maybe ten acres of forest, where I can harvest mushrooms and chestnuts, paw paws and berries and ginseng. Where the boy can bag us a wild turkey for holiday dinner or supplement the freezer with deer that got fat on fall acorns.

In my wildest fantasies (and, to be fair, what I have now was once my wildest fantasies!), the "small" field is an intercropped quilt of coppiced willow and locust, berry bushes, broad stripes of sorghum, amaranth, corn, and wheat for people and animals, strips of wildflower meadow to make corridors for animals and beneficial insects, and large patches of medicinal herbs and dye plants. The "north" field, the one that is so especially troubled now, is part forest, part pasture, with permanent perimeter fences, a loose scattering of trees that provide shade and fodder, and sheep being guided through the larger perimeter with portable electric mesh fencing.

So that's what we (very sarcastically) refer to as the "five year plan" here. But I'm trying to learn not to hamstring us with doubt and disbelief, so....that's the plan.

#this is ridiculous

20 notes · View notes

space-mermaid-writing · 11 months ago

Text

The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]

Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.

Relationship: Werewolf!Tony Stark / Vampire!Stephen Strange

Tags: hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff

Chapter 5: This didn’t go as planned

Every now and then they went on a mission together. It turned out each of them had a special skill set that proved to be useful in some cases. And the company was also nice.

Somehow Stark had managed to crawl into Strange's off-putting shell.

A few days ago, he had contacted the werewolf because several children had disappeared in the same area and he suspected an underground trafficking ring behind it. He had obtained some clothing and toys from those children, which he now handed to Stark in separate plastic bags.

"Can you pick up their trail? There's not enough DNA for a tracking spell."

"So I'm just your better tracking dog?" Tony snorted, without really being offended. "Yeah, sure, it's not like I have more important stuff to do."

Stephen raised his eyebrow. There was a small smirk on his lips. "More important than to possibly save five or more children from a cruel and painful fate?"

Tony was very unhappy about that comeback since it was very valid and he had nothing to counter. So he followed Strange through a portal to the place where one of the children had last been seen.

He took a plush bunny from one of the labeled bags and sniffed it.

Then he checked the surrounding air and concentrated.

When he was younger the many scents used to be overwhelming. But he became pretty good at filtering out what wasn’t of interest at the moment.

A few days ago the lawn had been mowed, and since these past few days had been really hot, the freshly cut grass was on the fast way to become straw. It carried a hint of the typical smell from stables.

Various cats and dogs were living in the area. Tony ignored those scents completely.

A car drove by, diesel engine. The brakes dragged a little and produced a fine abrasion.

Then he noticed something. It was faint, a few days old, and he followed the trail. An Iron Man suit, piloted by Jarvis, was sent to scan the area from there.

Stephen followed him without questioning him.

He knew from experience that if he was dragged out, something crucial would happen. Fortunately, they were in a quieter area of Queens. It was easier to pick out the older lead here than in midtown. And once picked up, he would hardly lose a trail. He didn't even need to shift for it.

Strange walked at his side, eyeing the surroundings. There was still no smell at all of the sorcerer. And that fact was still weird.

Tony was curious how he would smell. Probably something calm with a hint of herbs, like his teas. Something warm and inviting.

The Were shook his head.

He shouldn’t get distracted!

The path led them through a narrow passage between tall buildings. The area became poorer and poorer.

“You’re unusually quiet,” the Were noted after a while.

“I don’t want to distract you from your work.”

“I can track a smell and listen to you at the same time. It’s called multitasking and I’m an expert in it.”

Stephen scoffed. “Alright then. What do you want to talk about?”

Tony led them under a bridge. It smelled like pee. "Oh, nothing in particular. How was your weekend?" He stopped in front of a metal fence and rattled the gate. It was locked. So he tapped his wristwatch, but before he could weld it open, Strange did a swift motion with his fingers and the door magically swung open.

Stephen moved ahead past Tony. “My weekend was fine.”

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered, “Show off,” before he followed him suit. He waited a few more seconds, but Stephen offered nothing more. “Wow, don’t tell me more. I can already picture it as if I’ve been there myself.” His words were dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess: you read an old book, drank some tea and argued with Wong about which of them was on dishwashing duty? Maybe you even washed the cloak.”

The cloak moved as if by wind when it was mentioned. Stephen stopped and turned to the engineer, looking into his eyes. “I went to a dimension that consists purely of energy and gaseous elements. The inhabitants have never seen a solid shape and I had to disguise myself as some kind of smoke. I chased an ill-mannered nebula through some kind of semi-liquid slime and prevented it from passing into our plane of existence.”

Tony blinked. “You’re making that up!” he accused the sorcerer.

There was the hint of a smile on Stephen’s lips. “I also did wash the cloak afterwards.” With that, he started moving again.

Tony followed him, still not sure if he was told the truth or just some nonsense.

Suddenly there was a noise above them. Something approached them through the air, then landed with a gentle ‘thump’.

“Hey Mister Stark, Hello Doctor Strange. I saw the armor nearby and thought you might need some backup with whatever it is you’re doing here.”

The teenager didn’t lift his mask but the men could hear the nervous smile under it.

Tony exchanged a quick glance with Stephen.

The sorcerer shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a rescue mission,” he said lowly.

That was good enough for the Were. "Sure, but do as we say and stay behind us," he told Peter.

"Yes, totally!" He sounded thrilled to be included.

So the three of them continued on their way, and the men explained the situation to Peter in a few words along the way.

Between the three of them, with the help of Tony's suit in the air, it was easy to find the missing children's whereabouts. Either the kidnappers were not very smart, or they felt very safe.

It was a fucking cliché: an unused office building on a street with lots of warehouses, most of which were empty.

The kids seemed to be locked in a barely furnished room next to an empty open-plan office that covered almost the whole floor. All the doors were glass, but most were covered with newspapers. So were the windows, so they had no visual contact.

Tony had called his Iron Man back down and stepped in it to get a better read of the data.

There were five armed guys in the open office space and two more in another adjacent room.

Stephen, Tony, and Peter quickly came up with a plan: Stephen and Tony would take care of the armed guys, while Peter snuck to the kids. Once it was safe, he would get them out.

They had the element of surprise on their side and between the sorcerer’s magic and Iron Man’s blasting beams, they should make enough commotion to create a clear pathway for Peter.

But, somehow, everything went to shit.

Apparently, the guys had been prepared. Maybe they knew that human trafficking was prone to vampire attacks – or they had done business with them in the past and had taken precautions. Their weapons carried silver bullets and they were both good marksmen and skilled fighters.

They caught Peter on his way to the kids and engaged him in a fight as well.

The guys guarded their merchandise well.

One moment Stephen was dealing with two guys at the same time, only relying on his magic, while Peter dodged the swings of his opponent, and Tony engaged the boss of this little gang in a hand to hand fight, repulsor vs knife.

The next moment, Tony was suddenly in a headlock with a gun to his head. He was wearing his helmet, but he had never tested it if it would withstand a close-range shot. Or several of them at the same spot.

"Freeze or I'll shoot his head off!" the guy yelled at Tony's companions.

The Were growled and clawed his opponent's arm, but the grip around his neck did not loosen. He didn't dare to turn because the guy's finger twitched on the trigger.

Stephen and Peter stopped what they were doing – the sorcerer ever calm, but his gaze was dark and he seemed to be calculating his options in his head. He gave a secret signal to the cloak, which was currently not on his back, but was stealthily approaching Tony's attacker from behind.

Peter on the other hand was still a kid and seeing his mentor in this immediate danger made him go pale. "No, Mr. Stark!" He jerked on instinct as if he wanted to leap over to him and rush to help, but forced himself against it.

Still, it was one move to many.

Tony's attacker aimed his gun at the boy instead and pulled the trigger – one, two, three times.

The Were thrashed against his hold. “No!”

But it was too late. Nothing could beat a bullet.

Except maybe a very skilled vampire.

There was a blur. A flash of blue and red. In the same instant Stephen stood in front of Peter and threw his arms around him in protection.

He hissed in pain as the bullets hit his back. They were perfectly aimed, and they burned so badly that they must be spiked with silver. A metal that was bad for Were’s and Vamp’s alike.

These people certainly knew their stuff.

Peter shrieked, first of surprise at the sudden appearance of the sorcerer, then because Stephen’s protection hug grew very heavy as he slumped to his knees.

Tony went feral. He saw his pack threatened and retracted his faceplate to bite his opponent in his arm. Then he turned in his grip, his claws extended as he transformed.

The armor adapted to his four-legged body like the masterpiece of technology that it was. It no longer covered Tony's entire body. In this form, he preferred to keep his face and paws exposed while fighting.

It was easy to overpower the traffickers after that. Growling angrily, he barely cared about how much he hurt the people who dared to attack his pack. As long as one of them survived in case the authorities wanted to pry more information out of them.

One of them tried to crawl with a broken leg towards the door. A ridiculous attempt to escape. The Were grabbed his trouser leg with his jaw and yanked him back. The man gave a startled yelp as he was thrown ruggedly against a cabinet, where he remained motionless on the floor.

Tony looked around for the other two traffickers, but there was nothing more than a pathetic bunch left of them. That hardly calmed the Were down, even if the enemies were all neutralized. The smell of fear, sweat and adrenaline was still in the air and kept him on edge.

He whipped his head around when he heard Peter’s panicked voice. “Mr. Stark!”

The boy kneeled next to Strange, his eyes wide and worried. The sorcerer sat scrambled, his head hanging low. He was heavily breathing – and bleeding. Shit.

Tony rushed over to the two of them and ducked under Peter’s arms right into Strange’s personal space. Something wasn’t right.

Stephen turned away from him, hiding his face.

The Were was too big for this, needed too much space, so Tony shifted back into his human form, still wearing his armor, and laid his hand onto the other man’s shoulder.

“Doc?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen gritted through his teeth.

“Like hell you are!” The anger that hadn’t completely shifted into worry blazed back to life. “You got shot!”

Those bullets were meant for Peter. How the hell did he manage to get over there in time? Tony hadn’t seen his signature glow of magic.

“I just need to return to the Sanctum.” Stephen had trouble talking under the intensified burning in his back. He needed to get the bullets out of his body. The wounds would heal regardless on the outside. But his flesh would be burned alive from the inside. Like a slow and very painful poison.

The Vamp felt his control slipping. Not on his mind but his body. The urge for blood, for regeneration became stronger. His fangs were out and so were probably his claws, which was why he cradled his hands close to his chest.

It made reaching for his sling ring in his belt all the way harder.

Peter hadn’t left his side, the brave boy that he was.

And now Tony appeared right in front of him. Stephen tried to turn away again, to hide somewhere. Anywhere.

But Tony held him by his shoulders.

Why wouldn’t they leave him alone?

“Please,” Stephen tried again, his throat dry. “Just take the children home. I can manage.”

“You must have hit your head pretty hard if you think we would leave you like that.” Tony's voice softened with his next words. “Stephen, look at me.”

The Vamp shook his head, his eyes shut close and his lips tightly pressed together. That was difficult due to his heavy breathing.

He was a vampire. Undead. He didn’t have to breathe at all, but it helped with the pain and besides, it was a force of habit. He had gotten so used to blending in.

Tony's finger gently but forcefully pushed his chin up. “Stephen.” His voice was so very concerned.

The Were was too stubborn to let this one slide.

And Stephen couldn’t fight it anymore.

Finally, he looked at Tony. His eyes wide in anticipation of the man’s reaction. And glowing red. The open mouth allowed the heavy breathing to continue, his fangs now on display.

Tony needed a second to understand the meaning of what he saw. His eyes darted over the sorcerer’s face, down to his hands – still scarred – but also with long claws.

The fact that the man was still alive – ha – minutes after being shot in the back several times.

He let him go as if burned and stumbled back a few steps. His face is a mixture of betrayal, anger and disgust.

It couldn’t be.

He would have known it. He would have smelled it.

But sorcerers didn’t smell of anything.

“Peter,” Tony addressed the boy that was still crouching next to Strange and who watched the whole interaction concerned and confused. “Step away from him. Now!”

There was no room for arguing in the command.

For the split of a second Stephen’s face showed the hurt he felt. Not the pain from the bullets. Then a carefully put together neutral mask slid in the place.

The boy hesitated only a second before he finally obeyed. But it stung as bad as Tony’s change of behavior.

Stephen was still looking at the man, unsure what he would do next.

Tony seemed not sure himself. He raised his hand with the repulsor glove and it made this little noise signaling that it was active and ready to shoot. But he didn’t fire at the vampire.

Their eyes met. Stephen did not avoid his gaze, nor did he not look away. There was acceptance in his eyes – in those red glowing eyes that didn’t blink.

Tony wasn’t sure he had ever seen the guy blinking.

His ears twitched as his fine hearing picked up the sounds of the children that were still sitting frightened next door, still waiting to be rescued. They needed him. Maybe they even needed medical help.

He grabbed Peter - who had stepped next to him - by the arm and pulled him with him, walking backwards to the door. He kept his hand raised and the repulsor activated until they left the room. Only then he turned around and away from the vampire.

Peter looked at him with big eyes. “Mr. Stark…”

“We got a job to do, kiddo.” His voice was stern, cutting off any further objection from the boy.

Tony tried not to think about the fact he left the man he called friend – the man he probably had preferred to call other things too – behind, injured and bleeding.

That man was a Vamp – an enemy. He had lied to Tony, had deceived him.

Had everything been just pretended? An illusion?

Tony’s heart ached at the betrayal he felt.

He should have killed him immediately. But the sorcerer had saved Peter. And even if he hadn’t, Tony wasn’t sure if he could have killed Strange – even if he was a vampire. And that was alarming in a whole different way.

__________________

Tag list: @jekyllhydetrash @goopierthenyou Tell me if you wanna be added/removed

#ironstrange #doctor strange #tony stark #Vampire Stephen Strange #Werewolf Tony Stark #stephen strange #marvel #mcu #strangeiron #The Vamp and the Were #spacemermaid writes

21 notes · View notes