#ITS A COW FARM YOURE GONNA FIND COWS OUTSIDE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs.

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc..

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol)

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious.

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water.

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment.

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads.

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame.

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back.

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm.

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?”

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).”

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!”

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest.

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples.

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up.

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!”

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face.

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow.

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-”

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!”

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.”

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside.

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?�� The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly.

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out.

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart.

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe.

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk.

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead.

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head.

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did.

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn.

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy.

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off.

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber.

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs.

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features.

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn.

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh.

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.”

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties.

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away.

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart.

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer.

It seems Bokuto fucked up.

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves.

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved.

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn.

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble.

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut.

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you.

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you.

Sadly, that doesn’t work out.

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features.

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.”

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.”

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you.

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed.

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach.

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you.

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain.

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road.

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully.

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes.

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up.

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop.

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes.

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips.

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open.

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!”

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in.

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all.

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming.

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream.

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace.

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!”

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness.

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!”

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock.

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock.

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly.

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.”

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima.

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.”

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.”

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.”

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.”

#yandere bokuto #bokuto koutarou #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto imagines #bokuto haikyuu #hybrid au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au

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td-scenarios · 3 years ago

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How they react to seeing their S/O crying

First scenarios are a go!

Cody

Will most definitely start panicking at your status and start asking you various questions.

“Are you okay? Did I do something? Do you need space? Should I hug you? Do I need to punch someone?” And you better believe he’ll do that last one based off that one scene of him and Duncan in World Tour.

Goes and brings his stash of candy to you for you to enjoy

If you don’t need space at the moment but instead comfort, you better believe this boy will turn into the biggest cuddlebug. His arms just wrapping around your entire body and him resting his head into the crook of your neck. Would totally start kissing you all over the face until you smiled and were laughing as you told him to stop in a lighthearted manner

Trust me, Cody is not leaving until there’s a smile on your face. Even if you ask for some space he’ll be sending you memes or stupid little drawings.

Also would totally do the really cheesy thing of wiping away your tears and resting the palm of his hand on your cheek so that you can lean into it.

Scott

Doesn’t really understand what’s going on at first. He’s clever, but he ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed at times.

“Why are you crying? It better not be somethin’ stupid, cuz, ya know, back on the farm-” cue you punching him in the face or on the shoulder

That’s when he’s like ‘Oh fuck, something is ACTUALLY wrong. Oh no this is a time where I have to step up as a boyfriend oh no oh no’

Him awkwardly being all “So....um....what’s wrong?”

His face absolutely breaking upon seeing your shattered expression. Protective boyfriend mode = activated.

“Did someone hurt you? Babe, you better believe that I’ll go and make their life a living hell, trust me.” And then you just slowly shaking your head no and leaning your head onto his chest, which just makes this big softie melt.

Y’all cuddling for a long time until you eventually fall asleep on him and he’s just brooding on the fact that if someone did cause it, he really was gonna go and beat them up, He doesn’t make idle threats, but for now, it’s just calm between the two of you.

Brick

He gets back from running one of his bi-hourly jogs with Jo to see your form shaking from under a blanket in the cabin. Since you’re under the blanket, he can only assume you’re not cold and immediately comes to the conclusion that you are upset

“Y/N! What has got you feeling so blue right now?” He would try to lower his voice for you, but his same tone only wavers a bit. Habits and all that.

You already know that this sweet boy will drop whatever other plans he had for today to stay in the cabin and comfort you until you were better.

He’d try to suggest going outside and getting some fresh air, but you two would go out for a bit and you’d either see the person who upset you or get reminded of your homesickness or whatever else made you sad, so you two would just go back inside.

Brick being Brick would probably find a way of accidentally making you laugh and he’ll just continue with that until you forgot why you were sad in the first place.

Mike

Taking a break from the others, Mike finds you sitting on a rock near the beach with your head buried into your folded arms. He instantly comes jogging up to your side and sits across from you, gently saying your name which gets you to look up. When you ask for alone time, he softly shakes his head.

“I can’t leave you until I make sure you’re okay, Y/N. You know me, it’s good knowing that the people I care about are good.” Those words kind of put a smile on your face as you look at the gap toothed boy.

Mike counts this as the start of working your mood back up. He wouldn’t want to make you more sad by making you talk about what upset you, so instead he decides to start telling you funny stories of shenanigans his alters have caused.

“They’re quite the cast! I remember when Manitoba was really proud of himself for digging up some new material, but the guy was already a little bit tired so instead he was just holding some dried cow patty! Vito wouldn’t let him live it down for weeks!” More and more stories of that caliber, all of which would make you giggle in some way or another.

At some point, Mike ends up wrapping an arm around your shoulders and it’s become night time so you’re both just looking up into the stars. A nice serene way to forget about what was plaguing your mind earlier

Dakota

“O M G, babe, are you okay? Your skin is getting a little blotchy.” You would wince a little bit at that prompting her to apologize as you wipe one side of your face with your hand.

The blonde would sit next to you on the cabin bed and ask that you “spill the tea, sugar.

After telling her what’s wrong, she insists on taking care of you for the rest of the day. Bringing you any food she can scour off the island, asking the other teens of the cast to leave the two of you alone, and once your crying dies down a bit she starts doing your makeup.

“I like doing your makeup so much because it gives me a great view of your gorgeous face.”

This comment of Dakota’s immediately gets the waterworks started up again.

She starts panicking, thinking she said something wrong while carefully putting her makeup brushes down. You just shake your head and hug her tightly, to which she’s confused about, but reciprocates anyways.

Leshawna

This girl immediately hugs you as soon as she sees how distressed you are. She gives the best hugs ever, I would know, Fresh TV told me.

“Alright baby, tell me what’s got your feathers in a bunch! Leshawna will make all the problems go away.” Her voice is so calming at that point that you break down even more and choke out what’s been bothering you.

If it is someone, she would definitely start making threats, but wouldn’t dare to leave you alone in this state, so whoever did this to you would definitely get some knuckle sandwiches later.

The girl would take you back to her cabin and lay both of y’all down on her bed and softly sing to you (even if it’s not the best, it’s endearing.) Until you fall asleep in eachother’s arms.

Leshawna would be the first to wake up and would smile upon seeing your face, now with a soft smile instead of the heartbreaking expression it carried mere hours before. You were definitely her everything.

Heather

She really wants to keep up her mean façade like she does in front of everyone and say “ew, you’re showing emotions right now?” or something like that, but she decides that she could never do that to you. Even if anyone else was watching her at the moment.

Heather would take a seat next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Tell me what’s up.” And before you could say anything she interrupts, “and no, I won’t tell anyone what you tell me. I would never.” She made sure to keep both her hands up so you could see that she wasn’t crossing her fingers.

You let out a sigh and then hesitantly began telling her what’s up.

“Are you kidding? Hun, you need to put your game face on! Come with me.” She then grabs your hand and takes you around to do calming activities all around the island. Being bitchier to everyone else, but the most soft, kind, caring person in the world for you. She doesn’t let go of your hand at all just to let you know she’s there.

At the end of your day together, your tears long forgotten, both of you sat on a blanket watching the sunset, she looks over at you. “You ready to go kick some loser butt?” She says with a smirk, you sniffle a bit and nod yes. “Cool, lets go.” Her hand finally leaves yours, which saddens you, but she waits for you so you can head back to camp together. Who knew you could go a whole day with your girlfriend without her being TOO focused on the million?

Dawn

You thought you had found a quiet spot to let your feelings free under a shaded tree that may be capable of eating you any second, but how wrong you were. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a familiar soft voice speak, “your aura is stained with anguish. What is plaguing you so?”

Dawn’s statement startled you out of your tears for a bit until you began to explain to her what had happened with a shaky voice and it all became too much so you stopped talking.

The look on her face gave away that she knew more than she let on.

“Here Y/N breathe with me.” You would give her a confused look but go along with it since your girlfriend was weirdly knowledgeable in some areas.

“Very good. You’re shaky, but there’s nothing your position won’t fix. Here follow what I do.” Dawn got into a position perfect for breathing exercises and you followed suit. “Your chakras will align in the median in your body and your mind will be freed of its chains, do not be afraid.” She repeated the affirmations in a hushed tone as you two breathed with one another.

It was actually pretty calming. The sounds of the toxic island along with Dawn’s hushed voice made for the perfect aura around you two and you can’t remember a time when you have felt so at peace.

“I can sense that your aura is back to its normal state. Are you feeling any better?” The different words took you out of your zen and you looked up at her and nodded, which made her smile.

“That is nice to hear. Would you like to go look at the flowers with me?

#total drama #total drama island #total drama revenge of the island #total drama scenarios #total drama cody #total drama scott #total drama brick #total drama dakota #total drama leshawna #total drama heather #total drama dawn #total drama imagines #tdi imagines #tdi scenarios

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aithusarosekiller · 3 years ago

Text

Killerchaser fluff

This was written on my phone and is not at all edited so there are probably even more spelling mistakes than usual

Cw: mentions of past death of a loved one

“Oh, look, Barty! Look!” James tried not to squeal as the calf nudged his hand with its nose and locked his palm. “Hey! That kind of hurts, little guy.” He grinned down at the cow, which was looking at him with big, innocent eyes.

As he walked over to his husband, Barty looked around the field the calf was in only to find that the other two cattle in the field were a good way away, with no mother in sight.

“Where’s its mother? You might want to be careful in case she’s lurking nearby ready to bite your head off. I don’t see the point of a husband without a mouth, if you know what I mean.”

James gasped and moved his hands to pretend to cover the cow’s ears, turning his head to glare playfully. “Barty! Not in front of the baby!”

“It’s a cow, Jamie, I don’t think it cares.”

James glared for a moment longer and then turned around to the cow again, letting it sniff and lick his hand. “Hmm, well, if you had listened to the lady talking to us on the way in, you would know that his mother died shortly after he was born. And that none of the other cows were interested in taking him on so he gained a special bond with the farm workers, meaning he likes people more than other cows,” He didn’t look away from the cow for a second, the adoration clear on his face. “Isn’t that right, bud?”

“Yeah, well I thought the point of a farm was to look at poor animals minding their own business and spend a shit ton of money in the gift shop afterwards, not listen to boring women talking about them instead.”

James moved away from the calf and frowned, leaning against the fence and crossing his arms. “You could have said you didn’t want to come here. If it really bothers you so much, we can go somewhere else.”

“Hey, no, that’s not what I said. It’s true that I only agreed to come along because of how happy you looked when you suggested it but I don’t mind staying. I’m happy to stay here and look around if you want to. It really isn’t terrible and if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

James didn’t seem entirely convinced by that. “Look, you don’t need to pretend, if you’re gonna be miserable the whole time, I suppose there is no point in staying so well just go back-“

“No! It’s fine. We’re staying. We paid to come here and I’ve already said I’m fine with staying so we’ll stay.” James waited for the ‘but’ that would undoubtedly follow.

“On the condition that we go to the gift shop after because I saw on the poster outside that they have fresh honey.”

Well, that wasn’t as bad as he had expected.

“Fine.”

Barty smiled and squeezed his arm gently. “Come on then, tell me more about your little friend.”

Still not feeling as happy as he had before, James turned back to the calf and put his hand out, letting him sniff it a little more before turning to the salt lick fastened to the fence.

“He’s only a few months old at the minute so they need to be careful with him, he gets more attention than the others because of the whole orphan thing. Poor little guy, look at him, he’s so sweet, he doesn’t deserve to have lost his mother so young.”

“Suppose we have that much in common then. Though he was a lot younger than me but still.” James smiled sadly and pulled him closer to his side, laying his hand over the top of Barty’s.

“Yeah, maybe that's why I sympathise with him so much, I’ve seen how bad it was for you and I can’t imagine what it’s like for him. He can’t even get his feelings across in a way that would let people help him properly.”

“Yeah. At least I had you.”

“Oh! I wasn’t undermining your pain, I didn’t want to-”

He turned his hand around and grabbed James’ tightly, using his free hand to turn his head to look at him. “I know. You were just sympathising with the calf, don’t worry, it’s okay. I know what you meant.” They smiled at each other for a few seconds. “Does he have a name?”

James shook his head. “No, she said that they were calling him cliff but thought it didn’t quite fit so they wanted to know if any visitors had any better ideas.”

Barty nodded and thought for a moment. “I think he looks a little bit like a Edgar, don’t you?”

“Edgar? Not a very cow-like name, is it? But I suppose you’re right. Before we leave we can tell them that we think he’s an Edgar.”

They watched the cow for a few more minutes, then he looked away from the salt lick and started nuzzling James’ hand again.

“Would you like to stroke his nose? He wouldn’t mind.”

Barty grinned and nodded and James lifted his hand from where they were clasped together, taking Barty’s hand again from above and leading it slowly towards the cow’s face. He didn’t move and let Barty gently din his fingers along the light layer of hair that ran down past his eyes to his nose. Edgar looked at them, seeming perfectly unbothered, and Barty smiled as he leaned his head against James’ shoulder, relaxing in the presence of two of the kindest souls he had ever encountered.

“You’re thinking, honey. What are you thinking about?”

“I take back everything I said. This date was a great idea.”

#killerchaser

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from-seas-to-skies · 4 years ago

Text

Farm Grown / Hawks x Reader ♕︎

uwu, I had the lovely @weirddpand4 draw this picture of cowboy Hawks for this work!!!

warnings: NSFW, spanking, cream pie

words: 4,802

“Oh, wow! Look at that! I’ve never seen grass so green before!” your friend, Urakaka Ochaco, exclaims.

Glancing up from your phone, you follow her line of vision; gracious hills of rich green grass stretch out far into the horizon, meeting with the brilliant shade of blue. It’s so unlike the skyscrapers and closely-knit houses you’re used to seeing. No, this is what pure beauty looks like, Mother Nature in one of her most wonderful forms. Although the fields are dotted with wildflowers and corn fields, you don’t miss the dirt road further up ahead, a large wooden sign planted next to it.

When Ochaco originally came to you with the idea of being a farmhand, you thought she was crazy. You’ve finally graduated from high school, got the title of professional hero, and this is the first thing she wanted to do? However, as she further explained, it was a family friend who needed help during the summer months, and what were heroes for? Granted, you wanted to run around the cement jungle and provide help that way, but this “almost vacation” didn’t sound too bad – plus, with the puppy eyes Ochaco flashed at you, it was impossible to say no.

And so, here you are, sitting in the passenger side of a coupe with Ochaco behind the wheel. You have to admit; the surrounding atmosphere is beautiful, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to run barefoot through the grass. Clouds of dust rise as the car eventually comes to a stop outside of a weathered farmhouse. Ochako flashes you a smile, her large eyes twinkling.

“Look at how huge this place is! I know Uncle Iroh said he had a couple people helping out, but this is incredible! We’ll each have our own room!”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Ochaco’s always been easy to rile up, and the fact that she’s genuinely excited to spend quality “bonding time” with you is heartwarming. As the two of you step out of the car, the front door to the farmhouse opens, revealing an elderly man with a long beard and a kind expression. His face cracks into a smile when he and Ochaco make eye contact; the two hurry towards each other, warm greetings and bone-crushing hugs being shared between the two. It’s no wonder Ochaco was so excited to spend the summer here; with a relationship like that, you’d be happy to see the man too.

“Oh, come, come!” Iroh says, hurrying around the car and popping the trunk open. “You must be Ochaco’s friend, yes?” he asks, looking towards you. A wave of pleasant warmth washes over your being as he sends you that charming smile. “I appreciate the help! I only have my nephew and another man working here already, but the extra hands will come in handy.” He pauses then to chuckle at his own joke. “But I think it’s about you two get settled, yeah?”

“Right!” you respond, pulling out your own suitcase.

As you walk up towards the wraparound porch, you glance to the other trucks sitting out in front of the farmhouse. Iroh said two others were already here, so you figured the trucks must be theirs…

“Zuko!” Iroh booms. “Our guests are here!”

After a moment or so, a boy around your age staggers from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. From the looks of it, a teapot and some cups line its surface.

“Tea is our specialty, here,” Iroh says, nudging you with your shoulder. “Get something to drink and then we’ll show you your rooms.”

Later on that evening, you’re gazing out your window, watching the sun fall. Hues of orange, peach, and lilac paint the sky, bidding the world goodbye for the night. It’s definitely different to experience it here than back home, back where silhouettes were outlined by the golden glow. A steady breeze carries on, carrying the scent of wildflowers and musk; your curtains flap from the sheer force of it, but you pay it no mind. It’s like Ochaco brought you to a slice of paradise, even if it’s with the intention of putting in labor.

In the distance, you hear calls and the distinguished moos of cows. Shifting your gaze, you catch a herd of cows being moved towards a barn; a man riding a brown horse wrangles them in, a border collie by his side. The way he pulls it off is smooth, and it’s clear that he’s used to pulling such a feat. However, what really catches your attention is the pair of magnificent scarlet wings protruding from his back. Now, you’re used to seeing some rather flashy quirks, but this guy’s is just… Wow.

“Hey, Uncle Iroh wanted me to come get you,” Ochaco’s voice says suddenly. Turning around, you see her standing in the doorway, a pleasant expression playing on her face. “We’re having oyakodon for dinner! Doesn’t a hot meal sound delicious?” And, as if to amp up your spirits, Ochaco licks her lips and pats her tummy. “I’m so hungry from a long drive!”

You huff in amusement. “Yeah, I am too.” Turning around, you catch a glimpse of the cows disappearing into the barn, that mysterious cowboy stationed by the doors. “Hey, Ochaco,” you start before realizing it, “but who’s that other guy that lives here? The one with the wings?”

Walking over to where you stand, Ochaco peers out the window, following your line of sight. “Oh, him? That’s Keigo. Uncle Iroh says he’s only been here for the past year or so, but he’s really good at what he does! I heard all the animals like him a lot – maybe it’s because of the wings?”

“Don’t you think it’s… odd that’s only a farmhand? With a quirk like that, you’d think he’d be doing something else.”

Ochaco shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe you should ask him sometime? Oh, but I’m really hungry! Can we go eat, now?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted…”

And so, you soon find yourself sitting at a sturdy wooden table, a bowl of oyakodon sitting before you. It smells utterly delicious - and paired with the tea Iroh brewed, you know you’re in for a treat. Just then, you hear a door opening and closing; there’s a chatter of some sorts, but then there he is, right there in the flesh.

Strong build, wide shoulders, blond hair that looks permanently tousled, and oh yes, those magnificent wings. Perhaps you shouldn’t be staring so much, but the sharp line of his jaw and intense eyes make it nearly impossible to look away. You’ve heard of such things, read about them in stories, but maybe, just maybe, you might’ve fallen for the guy at first sight. That, or he’s just too damn attractive for his own good.

“Howdy! Oh, shit, who are these two cuties?”

Or maybe not.

“Oi! Keigo! Can’t you be respectful for once in your life?” Iroh barks, popping around the other. He scowls as he slaps a wing out of his way. “Make a good impression for yourself. These two are going to be here for the rest of the summer, so don’t be an ass.”

“C’mon, gramps,” Keigo drawls, “you know I’m better than that. Plus, if they don’t like my attitude, then it’s not really my fault, huh?”

“Nothing ever changes,” Zuko says lowly, his words followed by a deep sigh.

You and Ochaco share a look. It seems like your Prince Charming is nothing more than a sarcastic asshat. How befitting.

“Liven up, birdies,” Keigo says, sliding into the chair directly across from you. “I don’t bite.” He winks at you. “Yet.”

Your entire body jolts at his proclamation. This guy really is shameless, isn’t he? Still, you can’t help but feel undeniably attracted to him. Curse his charisma, dammit.

“Aw, sweet! Is this oyakodon? Hell yeah.”

To the side, Zuko facepalms. Iroh merely chuckles and shakes his head, much like he’s way too used to this kind of behavior and has accepted it as it is. Hell, even Ochako cracks a smile. You, on the other hand, stare at Keigo in confusion. He has a bird-based quirk, doesn’t he? Does it not bother him to not eat chicken…?

Keigo puts up a hand, an amused glint in his eyes. “Look, I already know what you’re gonna ask, kid. I can practically see the gears spinning in that pretty head of yours. I fucking love chicken.”

Oh… Well, that takes care of that, doesn’t it…

After that first fateful encounter, you’ve grown used to Keigo’s ways. It’s funny, though, how he and Zuko’s personalities basically sit on either end of the spectrum, yet Iroh treats the both of them like they’re his children. While Zuko is serious and straight-laced, Keigo is more of a chatty free spirit. That said, you’ve also gotten used to Keigo’s flirty side. You suspect it’s because he likes to get a rise out of everyone. Whether that’s the case or not, your eyes often wander after him, stare down the hard lines of his back. Even better, you itch to trail your lips over the scruff lining his jaw. The guy’s too damn hot and he knows it.

Over the past month, a game of cat and mouse has started between the two of you. Him, trying to act all chummy and overstepping numerous boundaries. You, trying not to give into the weird relationship that’s bloomed between you and him. Sure, you might have flirted back, but what were you supposed to do? After all, Keigo’s proved himself to be a rather cool guy.

“You can’t keep spacing out like that, kid,” Keigo says, snapping you from your thoughts. Glancing down at him, you attempt to suppress your embarrassment, but Keigo’s too smart for that. Despite his relaxed attitude, he’s surprisingly intelligent and quite observant.

Hands tightening around the saddle, you scoff. “I wasn’t spacing out…”

Keigo cocks an eyebrow. “You know, if I wasn’t holding onto the reins, Nugget would’ve bucked you off a long time ago.”

This time, you snicker. You know that he has an undying love for chicken, but every time he refers to his horse as Nugget, you can’t help but laugh. This guy really is like a child.

“Pffft. Laugh all you want, birdie. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to ride.” Narrowing his eyes, he flashes you a sultry look. “If you want, I can show you.”

All laughter dies on your tongue. A spark of heat erupts in your stomach, makes your heart thump against your ribcage. He always manages to fluster you, to plant naughty little thoughts into your head. You swallow thickly. “I think… I think I’ll stick with Nugget for now.”

At that, Keigo shrugs, his expression turning into something more nonchalant. “Suit yourself. Seriously, though; you should always keep your focus while riding a horse. Anything can happen, and you’ll only know you’re fucked until you’re being crushed. Better yet, you’re flying overhead and end up snapping your neck. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t have wings to break your fall.”

“Keigo.”

He looks back up at you. “What?”

“Your wings. It’s just that… Well… Why help out on farm?”

Keigo blinks at you, no words slipping out. “Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shit,” you say quickly, mentally cursing yourself out, “that’s not what I meant. You can fly, can’t you? It just seems like you could’ve made a name for yourself…”

“And become a hero, right?” You wince at his words. He hit the nail right on the head. “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I could spew a whole bunch of shit from my mouth and call it a day, but that’s not my style. I’m a hero in my own right.”

You furrow your brows. Remaining silent, you wait for him to carry on.

Keigo sighs at your implication. “Not all heroes wear capes or whatever. What about cops? Firefighters? Nurses? People who help put food on your table and help that old man out? Just because I’m not stopping some robbery doesn’t mean I’m not important.”

His words come as a slap to the face. He has a good point; actually, scratch that. He has a fantastic fucking point.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment’s silence. “That was selfish of me.”

Keigo waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. Nugget gets nervous if you get into a bad mood.”

Absentmindedly, your hand drops onto the horse’s neck, giving it a couple of reassuring strokes. “He’s a beautiful horse.”

“Yeah – well, until I bathe him. Getting up close and personal to horse cock isn’t fun. A bit degrading, actually.”

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your sudden laughter. Air streams through the cracks of your fingers.

Instead of his usual smirk, Keigo flashes you a genuine smile. You’ve only seen it once or twice before, but it never fails to make your heart stop. His whole face scrunches, his pearly teeth a startling white compared to his sun-kissed skin. Okay, so maybe you’ve fallen in love with this guy. It’s no big deal; you’re only here for the summer, so there’s no point in chasing after something you can’t have.

“What, did ya find that funny? I’m here all week, folks.”

“You saying you’re a standup comedian now?” you shoot back. “I didn’t know they accepted clowns on farms.”

“Ohoho, so you do got a mouth. Where’s that been all this time, huh? Would’ve made things a lot more fun.” Reaching up, he knocks his cowboy hat further back, revealing more strands of sandy hair and bronzed skin. “Listen here, partner. This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

“Oh my god,” you say with a snort. “You’re such a dork.”

Keigo snickers. “You know you love me.”

Heh. Yeah…

If only he knew.

Maybe you should’ve taken his words more into consideration.

Your instincts are more attuned to what could happen in battle, not for words. Besides, Keigo is a sneaky bastard. Most of the things that spew from his mouth are innuendos and pure sarcasm. He doesn’t really come off as a genuine type of person.

It’s whatever. You don’t like to read into things too much, and maybe that’s your fault, maybe it’s not. Who knows?

Even so, your eyes continuously drift over to where he stands. He busies himself with hanging Nugget’s saddle and harness away, his body lax. If one’s thing for sure, he definitely seems a lot more comfortable around animals rather than actual human beings. You can’t blame him, but what about you? Is he comfortable around you?

Clearing your throat, you turn back to the task at hand. Brushing Nugget down, you trail your hand over the coarse hair, the hard muscle. You meant it when you said he’s beautiful. Shiny brown coat, straw colored hair – he seems like the perfect match for Keigo.

“Cowboy Keigo,” you mutter. “Tell me, Nugget,” you begin, “does Keigo treat you right? Feeds you apples and lumps of sugar? A pretty horse like you deserves to be spoiled.” At the mention of his master’s name, Nugget whinnies. “Is that a yes? You’re avoiding the question, man.”

“Are you seriously trying to sweettalk my horse?” Keigo pipes up. Stepping over the stall, he hoists himself up onto the gate and straddles the wood. Wings sweeping behind him, he flashes you a peculiar look. “Didn’t they teach you in school that you shouldn’t seduce a horse? I don’t know about you, kid, but bestiality isn’t smiled upon around here.”

“Then what does that say about you, bird boy?” you quip. “Surely you don’t put yourself in that category?”

“Ooo, degradation. How did you know that was one of my kinks? Were you looking through my search history?”

Rolling your eyes, you set the brush to the side and join him at the gate. Climbing up, you mimic his movements and straddle the wooden beam. “Kinky cowboy, huh? Kind of has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got the bedazzled white boots and everything. I mean, I’m already wearing the assless chaps and everything.”

“You sound more like a stripper rather than a farmhand. What do you think, Nugget?” you ask, turning towards the horse. Nugget merely snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t agree,” Keigo tells him. “I’ve got to keep my secret life a secret, you damned horse. Help a guy out.”

“I guess your partner would rather throw you under the bus,” you say with a chuckle. “Good horse.”

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Cry me a river, bird boy. Or do I have to kiss your booboos?”

At that, Keigo falls quiet. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but the way his body tensed tells you something else entirely. Abruptly, he swings his leg over the gate and hops back down onto the ground. Aw, shit. Did you take it too far? It was only lighthearted flirting and yanking on his leg-

“C’mere,” Keigo says, offering you his hand. His voice is a lot more… soft.

With little to no hesitation, you take hold of his hand and get off the gate. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but then he’s abruptly pulling you to the side, further away from the stable’s open doors. Birds are singing outside, their sweet melody carrying along with the sweet summer breeze. It almost seems like an entire world away. A grunt escapes your lips as you’re shoved against the wall, the smell of straw and musk filling your senses. Keigo steps in close, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down your spine.

“Listen here, pretty little birdie,” he drawls, his lips pulling back in a smirk, “but I may just have to take you up on that offer.”

Wait, what?

“What the hell, Keigo? Where is this coming from?” you question. It’s not like you’re against him being so damn close, it’s just… unexpected.

“Oh, right, like I’m supposed to pretend that you don’t gawk at me at any chance you get. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Embarrassment heats up your insides, crawls up your neck. So this bastard is really going to rub it in your face, huh? Seems just like him.

“Then why didn’t you say anything about it before?” you hiss. “If it’s such a problem, don’t stay silent. You’re not the type to let things like that slide.”

“Who said it was problem?”

Keigo: 1 / you: 0

Spluttering, you try to gain control of your whirling emotions. This is not how you were expecting this conversation to go. Actually, you weren’t expecting this conversation at all!

“I know for a fact that you can’t get enough of me,” Keigo continues. “And if I’m being completely honest, I like it. You look so cute when you stare after me, birdie. Then you have the audacity to pretend like nothing happened whenever I catch you.”

“Is that what this is all about?” you huff. “Okay, fine. I admit it. Maybe I watch what you’re doing more than what’s necessary. It’s not my fault you walk around all the time without a shirt on or anything…”

“Normally, I’d say because it’s because I get hot when I’m working, but knowing that you were watching made it all the better.” He winks at you. “Gotta hand out a treat here and there, you know?”

“You really are a clown!” you squeak. Keigo laughs as you weakly shove at his chest. “You’ve been leading me on this entire time? What am I, a joke?”

“Hey now, don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. It’s not my fault you couldn’t come up to me like a civilized adult.”

Okay, now you’re fuming. “Keigo, you fucking idiot-“

Swooping in, Keigo cuts you off with a kiss. Unsurprisingly, his lips are soft; he tastes like citrus and salt, and before you know it, you’re looping your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. A huff of laughter fans across your lips as Keigo pulls back, his mouth hovering over yours. “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that ever since your pretty ass sat at the kitchen table for the first time.”

You sigh. “You really do have a bird brain…”

You kiss him, again and again. Perhaps you should be ashamed that you have your tongue shoved down somebody’s throat rather than working, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. Like him, you’ve been waiting for this moment. The two of you have been tiptoeing around each other, rolling the tension back and forth like a goddamn snowball.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

His hands aren’t shy, not in the slightest. Fingertips map out the ridges and dips of your body, seek out the spots that really make you tick. You bite back a giggle as he drops his mouth down your neck, the scruff covering his jawline tickling your skin. Your own hands trail over his body, tracing over the hard lines of muscle that hide beneath his clothes. Time and time again, whenever you’d see him without a shirt, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands all over him. This is your chance, now, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it.

“Shit, shit, shit, not the wings,” Keigo pants into your neck. The scarlet feathers feel like silk beneath your fingertips; skimming over them, you follow their shape, feel how they get fluffier the closer they are to his shoulders. “Oh, fuck. You know just what you’re doing, huh, birdie? Playing around with me like that. Two can play at that game.”

Another grunt slips from your lips as he pushes you against the wall, harder this time. His hands shamelessly drift underneath your shirt, warm palms sliding over your skin. Your shirt comes off before you know it, being unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

“Fuck, birdie, aren’t a pretty one,” Keigo purrs, his nose bumping against your throat as he sucks another mark into your flesh. “I bet you’re real pretty down here, too…” Making quick work of your jeans, he easily slips them down your legs and you eagerly step out of them. “Don’t mind if I do, kid,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping at the lobe.

A weak moan breaks from your throat as a hand slips into your underwear and cups your sex. His hand is just so warm, and the roughness of his callouses causes your head to spin. Within no time, wet, sinful noises sound from between your legs, mixing with your heavy breaths and Keigo’s encouraging words.

“Yeah, you like that, birdie? My fingers feel good, huh? Wait until you get a feel of my cock.”

Spurred on by his words, you hastily unbutton his shirt, pushing the fabric to the side and running your hands over the swell of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdomen. A faint dusting of blond hairs covers his chest and arms; and, if you look close enough, more sticks out from the waistband of his jeans. Keigo hums as you continue to feel him up, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“Like what you see? I bet you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time… Fuck! Not going to go easy on me, huh? I like someone who can bite back.”

“Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?” you breathe. Fingers wrapped around his cock, your movements catch up to his in speed. “You should consider yourself lucky that I like your voice.”

“Oohoohoo, feisty. That mouth of yours is saying a lot of mean things today, isn’t it? Guess I’ll have to put you in your place.” He pauses, swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “But, if I’m being entirely too honest, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

“Keigo,” you pant, “I swear to Christ if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“On it, on it. Don’t get your panties in a twist, your majesty.” In hurried movements, he strips you of your underwear and shucks his chaps and jeans down. Large hands grip onto your thighs and then you’re being hoisted up, sandwiched between his rigid body and the wall. “Why, won’t you feel that,” he purrs, “I’d say it’s high noon.”

“Don’t talk about your dick like that, you dork,” you scoff. “Oh, fuck.” Another pleasured noise slips through your lips as you grind down against him, his cock just barely teasing your hole.

“What was that, birdie? You know what they say – sweetie on the farm, a freak in the barn.”

“You’re anything but sweet. Just – Keigo, please?”

“Alright, I get it, enough teasing.” Adjusting his hold on you, he flashes you a tiny smile. “Hold on, partner.”

A choked groan breaks free from your throat as his cock slides in, your velvety walls sucking him in greedily. That damned smirk of his stays on his face the entire time he fucks you, along with that devious glint in his eyes. His façade only cracks after you start stroking his wings and squeeze around his cock; if he wants to act like a cocky son of a bitch, then so can you.

“Shit, you’re fucking tight,” he pants. The smack of skin against skin fills your ears, right alongside Keigo’s breathy moans and muttered words. “Keep squeezing like that, birdie, and you’re gonna make me cum quicker than I want to.”

“You almost sound like that’s exactly what you want me to do,” you breathe. “A cowboy like you has got to have some stamina, right? Don’t tell me all of that work goes to nothing.”

“Jesus, and you called me talkative. Fuck, I can’t wait to shove my cock down your throat and shut you the hell up – I said don’t squeeze like that, holy hell. Dirty little head you got there, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumble, yanking him back into a kiss. Keigo only moans loudly as you continue to play with his wings, quickly finding out that the spot where they protrude from his flesh is the most sensitive.

“Milk my cock, birdie,” he mutters between broken kisses. “You’re so fucking good to me, oh yeah. I should’ve done this weeks ago.” A startled squeak bursts from your throat as he abruptly strikes your ass. Sucking air through his teeth, he does it again, relishing in the desperate noises spilling from your mouth. “That’s right, birdie. Come on, make me cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you, fill you up until your belly’s bloated.”

“Keigo-“ You moan as his hand drops down, fingers furiously rubbing at your sex.

“That’s right, say my name. Let the whole fucking world know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Keigo-“

Smack.

“KEIGO!”

The knot building up inside you snaps; with a cry, you cling even closer to him, your velvety walls spasming around his thick cock as you cum.

Slamming a hand against the wall, Keigo fucks into you harder, faster, the wet noises sounding from between your legs almost deafening. “Oh fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah, oh fuck, fuck, fuck – ah- ah- ugghnn…” Burying his face in your neck, his hips erratically jerk as warmth fills your insides. “Still… cumming… fuccckkk…”

Your eyes flutter as he shallowly thrusts into you, the sinful squelch of his cum leaking out around his cock filling your ears. Slowly, he comes to a stop, his hot breath fanning over your neck and the side of your face. Gingerly, you let him go, completely unaware that your fingernails had dug into him in the first place.

“Well,” he starts, lifting his head and flicking away sweaty strands of hair, “that was eventful, wasn’t it?”

You scoff. “Tell me why I like you again…?”

“Oh, darling,” he drawls, leaning in and pecking the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you like me. I think you love me. You aren’t very subtle.” He laughs as you smack him on the chest.

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky I love you, bird brain. Don’t go rubbing it in.”

“Silly birdie,” Keigo hums, his face scrunching into that wonderful smile of his. “I may just love you too.”

Wait, seriously?

“And no, I’m not joking or being an ass,” he continues, as if reading your mind. “What’s it called? Love at first sight? I dunno, seems like cheesy bullshit to me, but I… I like the appeal of it. It sounds nice when you’re involved.”

Your heart thumps against your chest.

Oh, fuck.

#mha #my hero academia #bnha boku no hero academia #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #mha smut #bnha smut #empress writes

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league-of-thots · 4 years ago

Text

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

“Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

“I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

“Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

“Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

“I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

“Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

“I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

“Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

“Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

“Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

“Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

“Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

“You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

“Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

“You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

“Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

“Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

“So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

“Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

“But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

“Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

“Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

“I suppose. More cider?”

“Sure.”

You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

“You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

“Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

“You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

“Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

“Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

“You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

“But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

“Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

“God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

“Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

“Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

“Touch me…”

“You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

“My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

#jays writes #Smut #hawks x reader

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crepes-and-snakes · 4 years ago

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Imagine that Whitley gets facinated by farm work because is so weird for him that someone lives like that. So when Whitley tells Oscar he has never seen a farm, he shows him his aunt´s farm and it turns out he´s amazed and fawns over the little things, meanwhile Oscar is like, `Dude, that´s just the water pump´, `The water-what?´.

Firstly, I’m sO SORRY this ask/post is older than Ozpin himself (!)

Secondly, Holy shit– okay oKAY OKAY, here we go, I second this !!

You’re 100% right and I’m gonna list off a bunch of things that work with this theme with some more personal twists:

It’s funny because I view Whitley as someone who has grown up among electronics – there’s nothing authentically green or living in the Schnee manor.

For starters, Whitley’s impression of farming is probably based on the fact that Atlas has crops on the outskirts of the kingdom. It’s a necessity to keep the kingdom functioning – a vitality and cornerstone of society since the middle-ages, especially during a siege (if it ever came down to it).

But even the majority of the farming industry in Atlas is monopolised by successful land-owners. In other words, I'd like to think that Whitley is in love with the idea of farming because it’s a multimillion business.

BUUUTTT that view shifts when Oscar introduces him to his humble farm...

Whitley expects rolls of fields cultivated with wheat awaiting mass-production, but instead finds a small acreage holding an intricate ecosystem unique to the land.

He falls in love with the resourcefulness and self-sustainability the Pines are able to cultivate through hard work.

Whitley would dub his sleeping experience as more of a camping experience than a sleep-over and I’m already laughing at the thought of Whitley trying to find a power point in the wall for his scroll… except there is none.

So even if he isn’t enamoured by the quality or quantity, I think he would grow to at least appreciate it?

I’d love to add to this list, starting with the fact that Oscar’s room has absolutely ZERO ELECTRICITY, just a candle lamp and that all his clothes are probably half-hazardly stored in that giant chest…

Anyway, can you imagine Whitley waking up one morning in Oscar’s barn to the smell of light rainfall and fresh cow manure?

The funny part is that he wouldn’t have known that such a “dirty” animal could produce such a fresh smell.

Imagine that Whitley walks down one morning asking if he can bathe. Oscar’s aunt, still fixing pancakes at the stove says, “Of course you can, the water pump is just outside the barn. Oscar will show you where it is."

And a baffled Whitley is like: “The w-water pump!?” And bewilderedly follows Oscar to where it is. Oscar shows him how to work the pump, but then has to assist him because Whitley is a baby bean with zero muscle mass.

Whitley is affronted by the idea of manual labour for some simple running water that could easily be fixed with the right plumbing, but is also secretly enamoured by its function?

And the whole time Whitley is low-key gushing about using a pump but uses inappropriate adjectives and backhanded compliments to convey his mixed feelings.

“A water pump?! But that’s so primitive! I mean– that is to say– self-sustainable! I’d imagine the water bill isn’t nearly half as what it costs in Atlas? But is the water clean? How do you filter it?!”

This was fun. Thanks for the ask x

Oscar just laughs and fondly rolls his eyes telling him that, ‘If you don’t shut up I'm gonna make you pump the rest of this water out.’

So basically I see your point of Whitley fawning over everything and it’s honestly so freaking adorable!! But that fascination would eventually die off leaving a new appreciation for the art and I think that’s important...

#rwby #oscar pine #whitley schnee #ask #this post really do be older than ozpin though :/#*cries* because this is not in the tags...

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laurenwritesfics · 3 years ago

Text

Untidy Lives (Preview)

YEAR ONE:

There was only one person April Kepner could truly count on to brighten up a dull day – her mother, Karen, and it seemed she had taken that duty literally. Crunching up the driveway in white heels and a sunshine yellow dress, she greeted April with a screech, enveloping her in a tight hug.

Today, Harriet Kepner-Avery was turning one.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey.” Karen pulled back, holding April’s wrists. “Let me look at you.” Her eyes drifted from her daughter’s warm cinnamon hair to her loose blouse, jeans and white sneakers. Throughout April’s adolescence, people had gushed over how much she looked like her mother. Now, she was an entirely separate person. No longer her mother’s shadow. Karen tutted. “Is this what you’re wearing?”

April sighed. “I didn’t have time-“

“Nonsense,” Karen wafted a hand, “your father’s getting the gifts from the car. Go freshen up. We’ll keep the birthday girl occupied for a little while. Besides…” she trailed off, miming a gagging motion and nodding towards the stain on her shoulder. April pulled at the soft cotton and frowned. How long had that stain been there? She didn’t know. The discovery of the stain had diverted her train of thought. She leaned over Karen’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of the familiar blue Volvo.

“Wait, Dad’s here?”

Karen was interrupted – a rare occurrence in their almost forty year marriage – by her husband, Joe. He ambled towards the two of them, lugging a stack of immaculately wrapped gifts.

“Well, hello there Little Miss!”

“Dad! I thought you were working on the farm?”

“What, and miss my granddaughter’s first birthday? Not a chance!” Joe chortled. Karen took two boxes from the top of the pile when Joe arrived at the doorstep. “And I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to this one.” He inclined his head, his voice soft and peppy as he reached past April to tweak Harriet’s nose.

April whipped around to see Matthew bouncing a half-asleep Harriet in his arms. “She’s supposed to be napping for another hour.” She chided.

“I know, but it’s her first birthday. I don’t want her to miss it.”

“She’ll miss it when she uses her ice cream cake as a pillow because she didn’t get a whole nap.”

Matthew huffed. “I think Mommy underestimates me.”

April ignored him, one foot in the doorway. “I’m gonna go change my shirt. You can put the gifts in the living room.”

Karen followed her inside while Matthew, Harriet and Joe moved to the back yard.

As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. Changing into a floral blouse and a pair of flats – and at Karen’s insistence, some light makeup – although April felt tired, she didn’t look it anymore. With a final scrunch of her hair and a pop of her lips, she peered out of the bedroom window. Harriet was sat in the grass, her tiny fingers wrapped around the string of a pink balloon. Jackson was pulling the string, making it bob up and down, much to Harriet’s delight. Shit. Jackson. She had assumed he would be late, fresh from the hospital. She blinked rapidly, taken aback, and rushed out of the room. Karen found April with her head in the refrigerator.

“Mom, can you get the candles?”

“What’s the rush?” Karen exclaimed.

April tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning back to meet her mother’s baffled gaze. “Jackson’s here.”

“Oh.” She replied flatly, rifling through every drawer in the kitchen island. “Where are the darn matches?”

“I’m married to a First Responder, remember? They’re in a super-secret safe place that nobody on Earth can find.”

“Of course,” she shook her head in amusement “I’ll go ask him.”

“No,” April stepped away from the refrigerator to block her path “I’ll go. The paper plates and napkins are in the-“

“Third drawer, I know.” Karen pressed a hand to her cheek. “Take a breath. Go out there and enjoy it. I can take care of everything.”

Karen Kepner was a woman of her word. She had fussed over Harriet from the moment she was born. April would usually have found this irritating, but losing Samuel, her first-born, changed that. Karen dropped everything to be with April and Jackson while they grieved. While Jackson worked and April sat sobbing on the couch in their cramped condo. When April got up in the middle of the night, convinced she could hear his cries and Jackson couldn’t console her. What might have seemed like interfering before was now a blessing. Harriet was a blessing. And April was going to experience every moment with her to the fullest extent.

Outside, Joe and Matthew were hunched over the barbecue.

“Mommy’s here!” Matthew hollered, a few whoops and cheers sounding behind him. He sauntered over to April and wrapped his arms around her, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “And Mommy looks hot.”

April pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I should go and say hi to everyone before the cake’s brought out.” Her hands slipped from his chest. It wasn’t hard for Matthew to work out that by ‘everyone’, she meant Jackson. She mingled with family and friends, ate one of Joe’s famous almost-cremated burgers, cuddled and cooed at Harriet. From the outside, it looked easy for her. On the inside, it took every ounce of strength she had.

The moment her eyes locked with Jackson’s, Matthew strolled over, one hand placed protectively on the small of her back. Her past and her present stood before her, and the only similarity between them was the brand of beer they were drinking. Jackson removed one hand from the pocket of his grey hoodie to offer Matthew an awkward handshake.

“No Maggie?” April probed.

“We broke up.” Jackson rubbed the back of his shaved head. “A while ago.”

“Oh, sorry.” April scrunched her nose and inhaled sharply.

“Yeah. I was seeing someone, actually – a paramedic – but we, uh…” He glanced at his feet.

“Ah.” April nodded.

“That sucks, buddy.” Matthew smacked Jackson on the arm. It was like this every time Matthew and Jackson met. Awkward. Stunted. A sterile attempt at civility.

Harriet toddled over, held up by Joe. He wiggled her arms to make it look as if she was waving. “Little Miss was chewing her fist, so I think it’s time for cake.” Jackson bent down as Joe handed her over. “I’ll go help your mother in the kitchen.” He smoothed his shirt. “At least I won’t have to call 911 in an emergency.”

“Good luck.” April quipped.

Jackson’s eyes popped, making Harriet giggle. He, April and Matthew burst into laughter. She was the glue that held their paper-thin relationship together.

A discordant rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ drifted from the kitchen as Joe and Karen emerged with a large pink ice cream cake. Jackson bounced Harriet and kissed her wispy hair. A single candle wilted, unlit, in the center. Still, they mimed blowing it out. Matthew stuffed the candle in his pocket before the cake was set down on the patio table. April held Harriet to her hip and pulled up a chair.

“Everybody grab a plate!” She yelled, and the crowd scattered. They returned to the sight of Harriet happily digging her fist into the cake.

When the time came to open Harriet’s gifts, everyone gathered in the living room to watch her grab and teethe on the corners of the boxes. The first gift was from Matthew’s mother, Patricia, who Harriet had dubbed Tee-Tee. Her relationship with April was complicated, but not complicated enough to stop her from spending time with her second granddaughter. Harriet already owned a sensory play set, but still they appreciated the gesture, thanking her with kind eyes.

“Say thank you, Tee-Tee.” April encouraged Harriet, pointing to Patricia.

Harriet’s lips grappled with the word for a moment. Then, an outburst of “Tee-Tee!”

Patricia smiled, walking over to the couch to sweep her palm across Harriet’s hair and press a kiss to the crown of her head. The next gift came from Jackson’s mother, Catherine, and step-father Richard. A beautifully engraved silver piggy bank with a dollar tucked into the slot.

“It’s never too early to start saving. Especially if she’s going to get into Harvard.” She quirked a perfectly curved eyebrow and smiled.

“Catherine!” Richard playfully chided.

“Thank you.” April said again, beginning to feel the words lose their meaning.

Joe and Karen had bought an assortment of farm-related toys and books, which made April roll her eyes. Harriet immediately shoved the rubbery head of a cow into her mouth.

Matthew and April’s gift, a sit-to-stand walker, was yet another addition to Harriet’s collection of pink items. When they had decorated the nursery, Matthew’s only comment was that it looked as though someone had poured Pepto-Bismol over everything. April countered this with the argument that it would encourage Harriet to unapologetically embrace her femininity. Besides, she was sharing the room with Matthew’s daughter Ruby. As usual, he was out-voted by estrogen. So, he buckled under the weight of his love for his three favorite girls.

April heard the subtle hitch of Matthew’s breath beside her. He was smiling, but it was a tight-jawed, forced smile. She knew exactly what – or rather, who - was running through his mind. Karin. Sometimes at night, when April tucked Harriet and Ruby’s blankets into their cribs, she would stare at Ruby, examining every detail of her face. Every faint line on her palms. She felt guilty. Sitting here, watching her own daughter celebrate the milestone that Karin never would. A lump formed in her throat. She reached for Matthew’s hand, but he pulled away. He harrumphed, shifted against the cushions and promptly excused himself. He returned ten minutes later with a glass of water and puffy eyes.

“If you need to take a minute, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Matthew,” April rubbed his arm “take a couple minutes. Get some air. Please?”

He chugged the last of the water and wordlessly agreed, slipping out into the garden. He watched Jackson present April with a hefty 3-in-1 stroller – the one she’d been lusting after for a month. He watched her fumble with its clips to detach the balance bike and plop Harriet onto the seat. He watched another man be the father he would never be. A deep ache spread through him and he leaned against the cool fence, glancing up at the nursery window. He took a long moment to forgive himself for the act of betrayal he was about to commit, then he headed back inside, softly thudding up the stairs. He sat with Ruby for, well, he didn’t know how long, but it was long enough for him to catch a glimpse of Karin. For him to apologize to her with a prayer. Long enough for him to feel guilty for disappearing.

Downstairs, Jackson grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. He turned to April, who was mixing a rum and coke for her mother, and pulled an envelope from his pocket.

“April?” He tapped her on the shoulder. “I know I’ve already given Harriet a gift, but this is something extra. Just a small thing, I promise. I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it back there.”

“Why?” April ripped the envelope open and her lips parted in confusion. Inside was a receipt for a monthly toy box subscription. “Jackson, what is this?”

“I’m not around all the time. I don’t get to take her to playgroup every week or build blocks with her or read The Velveteen Rabbit. This is my way of being there. I don’t wanna be that guy. The father who slips in and out of his child’s life. I can’t do that to her.”

“Jackson,” April gazed up at him, sharing the sadness in his eyes “you are not your father. If you wanna see her more often, we can work something out.”

Matthew entered the kitchen, dropped his glass in the sink and glared at the two of them. “Sorry for interrupting.” He slunk away.

“Can we?” Jackson quipped.

April rubbed her face and placed the envelope on the kitchen island. “I should get back out there before Dad has another beer and starts doing impressions of farm animals.”

Later, when the house was empty and Harriet had been put to bed messy-mouthed and content, April and Matthew were left to pick up the discarded pieces of wrapping paper and conversation. They sat the dining table, each waiting for the other to speak first. Matthew rolled a beer bottle between his palms as he tried to organize his thoughts. April traced the patterns in the wood-grain, eyes darting up to meet Matthew’s.

“Wanna talk about it?” She prompted, met only with silence. She leaned forward, palm pressed against her cheek. “I know it’s hard, but it would be nice if you let me in every once in a while.”

He replied with a non-committal grunt.

“Say something. Anything. Please, Matthew.” After a beat, she pushed back from the table and walked away. Then, just as she reached the kitchen archway –

“My wife died. What am I supposed to say?”

April’s next breath drained from her mouth. “I’m your wife, Matthew. You’re blinded by grief, not blind.”

Matthew’s head was in his hands, his voice muffled. “I lost Karin, and you saved me, April. You saved me. You know that.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it.” She snapped.

Every time they fought, April would end up sleeping in a half-empty queen size bed. She woke with a jolt when she felt a cold arm drape across her stomach. They didn’t apologize. They were long past that. They locked eyes and April grazed his cheek with the back of her hand.

“We’ll get through this together. We know each other’s pain, remember?”

“I know.” He pulled her into his chest and hummed against her lips.

That night, in spite of everything, they slept peacefully in each other’s arms.

Read the full story on AO3

#Japril #Jackson Avery #April Kepner #Grey's Anatomy #Lauren Writes #laurenwritesfics #grey's anatomy fanfic #japril fanfic #angst #drama #japril angst #greys spoilers #greys anatomy

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Prized Cattle.

Word Count: 5.4k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Life on a farm is difficult. What’s even more difficult is life underneath a farm, or rather, life in the basement of a farmhouse, where your captor’s content to treat you like a prized, albeit unwilling, hen. At least Zacharia’s never been a terribly cautious man. It makes breaking out of your pen that much easier.

TW: Non-Con, F. Reader-Insert, Fingering, Dehumanization, Groping, Degradation, Captivity, Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Past Abuse, Graphic Violence, Blood, and Phonetically Transcribed Southern Accents.

Somehow, it’d never occurred to you that captivity would be this draining.

Logically, you knew you should be glad Zacharia was too busy to deal with you. He was your kidnapper, for fuck’s sake, a man who took you away from your home, your life, and beat every reason you should hate him into you over and over and over again until you couldn’t possibly forget your distaste. You had the marks to prove it, the lovebites and the lasting scars that had yet to fade, that you doubted every would, if you were being honest. Your hands weren’t bound, not anymore, but there were still a dozen different deadbolts on the basement door, a sturdy layer of wood keeping every window permanently shut, a locked box that kept everything sharp and useful out of your reach. You were free to roam around the basement, free to read the novellas Zacharia was so fond of and immerse yourself the few luxuries he was willing to provide, but you weren’t free. You shouldn’t let yourself start to act like you were. You shouldn’t let yourself stop thinking like a captive.

You shouldn’t miss Zacharia.

And yet, here you were.

You let out a long, languid sigh, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in your bedsheets. It’d been like this for weeks, you’d been like this for weeks. Zacharia wasn’t a diligent man. He had farm-hands to take care of most of the manual labor on his land, leaving him with all the time in the world to pull at your hair and torment you to his contentment. Thankfully, blessedly, tragically, when one of his prized dairy cows fell pregnant, he’d taken it upon himself to care for the poor thing, doting on the creature as if he didn’t have a girl locked up against her will. You’d been relieved, at first. If he was busy, he wouldn’t have as much time to ‘look after you’, as he put it. You wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells or mind your manners, not when he only came down for breakfast and dinner, and even then, he was too distracted to do anything notably unpleasant. You should be happy, you should be elated, but after two solid months of being left to your own devices, it was hard not to feel… insulted. Neglected. Bored, but not just bored.

Horribly, guiltily lonely. Regardless of how much you wanted to be anything else.

Mindlessly, you gaze strayed from the sheets, falling to something you assumed you’d think about twice. A doll, no taller than your calf and painfully hand-made, all rough stitches and patchwork clothes and big, pupilless, unblinking button eyes, one beginning to loosen from the hours you’d spent picking at it. You hadn’t thought much of it. The toy was more for Zacharia’s enjoyment than yours, a jab at the fact that he could be a gentle, caring man and decided he’d prefer not to, but the purpose behind his gift didn’t matter, not to you, not now. There were scraps of fabric in your room, and you could scavenge thread from your clothes or a soon-to-be mutilated pillowcase. A needle would be more difficult to find, but it wouldn’t be impossible.

You already had a doll, and any doll could be modified.

Zacharia could make it very, very hard to hate him.

It was only when he wanted to, of course. Between escape attempts and punishments and shows of his superiority, he was capable of navigating the calm, domestic tranquility most couples didn’t need a list of rules and a flaying knife to reinforce. When he pulled you into his side, taking a lock of your hair to spin around his finger as he rambled on about his day or his plans or something particularly memorable one of his chickens did, it was easy to lay your head against his chest, play with the hem of his well worn, button-up shirt and be thankful for the change of pace. You could forget why you needed the doll (currently tucked safely underneath your bed), and you didn’t have to think about the fact that he was only visiting you to make sure he didn’t come home to a starved, emaciated corpse when he wanted the affection of something with two legs, rather than four. It was easy not to hate him.

And thus, it was easy not to want him to leave.

“It’s only been a few minutes,” You mumbled, keeping your voice low, quiet, doing your damnedest not to make your complaint stretch into a whine. It was only half-successful, but Zacharia was in a merciful enough mood not to point it out, his ever-present grin only broadening slightly as you swung your feet off the side of your bed, pretending to be more interested in the bare, cement floor than you were in him. “I just don’t see why you bother coming down here at all if you have to leave so soon. It’s not like a couple of seconds is going to stop me from trying to break out, again.”

“If you’re gonna say you missed me, you’re gonna have to say it,” He teased, ruffling your hair, forcing you to bat his hand away like a frustrated child before he stopped. Even then, he paused, taking a moment to scan over you before he continued, or rather, to scan over your new ‘dress’, a flannel shirt he’d been kind enough to give you for a few weeks of good behavior. The sleeves were a little too long, falling just below your fingertips, and saying the hem came to your mid-thigh would’ve been generous, but it was more conservative than anything else he’d given you, so far. It was a step closer to a full outfit, to proper clothes.

A step closer to being allowed to go outside, if you were being optimistic.

“Just be thankful it ain’t one of the mares,” He went on, letting out the indignant huff of someone who’d spent much too time around far too demanding animals. “Last one took two years to pop, and even then, the foal was just a touch to the right of premature. Not that he cared, though, we spent weeks fishing the poor, simple thing out of every ditch on the property. Kinda like you, the first time you made a run for it.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. It was hard not to smile while watching a grown man shake his head over a horse’s pregnancy. “How much longer do you think it’s going to take?”

“Much, much longer, pumpkin. These sorta things don’t happen overnight.” Another non-answer, the kind you were starting to get used to. You could suppress your frown, but your shoulders were slumping before you could catch yourself, an undeniable pout forming in the place of a more respectable expression. Zacharia didn’t take long to notice, humming gently as he bent down, coming just close enough to press a quick, comforting kiss into the top of your head before he pulled away. For a second, a traitorous part of you dared to want something more, something substantial, but thankfully, he was at a safe distance before you could act on the impulse, and you were too busy cursing your own mind to mourn the loss. “I’ll be back by dawn, this time, swear on the nearest grave. Wouldn’t want you throwin’ another hissy fit just because I missed a meal or two.”

You didn’t respond to that, glaring at your knees, and Zacharia chose to take his leave with a smirk and a breathy chuckle. You didn’t look up, not when you heard him climb the creaking basement stairs, not when the door fell closed and an array of different locks clicked into place, and certainly not when you felt that dark, cold air of loneliness return, frigid and cryptic and unwanted. You wanted him to stay. You wanted him to come back and hold you and spend hours with you, dolling you up or making you feel weaker than you really were or doing anything, as long as he kept you company while he was at it. He’d left you alone, and you wished he hadn’t. He’d left you to suffer, and you didn’t want any pain he didn’t care enough to inflict by hand. You wanted him to--

No, you didn’t want anything.

You needed to get out of here.

It wasn’t a matter of what you wanted anymore. If your current thoughts were any indication, you had to get out of here. You’d been in the same room too long, in your own head too long. You’d let your intentions and your desires and your selfish, selfish wants mix together, and the results were little more than a muddled paint of confusion and uncertainty and more misplaced trust than you were willing to admit. Part of you was tempted to linger on it, to dwell in the space between what you desperately wanted to believe and what you knew better than to chase after, and you took the sign to push whatever remained from your mind and force yourself to stand, your fists curling at your sides as you bit down on your tongue hard, blood soon coating the inside of your mouth a second later. It stuck to the back of your teeth, its metallic taste heavy and unpleasant. It was refreshing, though, and it gave you the motivation you needed to push yourself to take a step, then another, and finally, you found the will to root through the pile of spare clothes and blankets and supplies Zacharia kept in the back of your closet until you discovered your reward.

A simple, black toolbox. Minimalistic and cheap, and the exact thing you needed to get out of this hell.

There was a lock on the latch, a dial meant to keep nosy children and curious captives out, but rather than aiming for that, you aim for the thick plastic of the lid, something that wouldn’t stand a chance against your preferred method of destruction - the one leg of your bed unbolted to the ground, just loose enough to be forced upward and just heavy enough to break through anything less sturdy than solid metal. The toolbox just barely fit underneath it, and when the foot first fell with a loud, unignorable thud, you almost held your breath, refusing to let yourself relax until the basement door failed to swing open and Zacharia failed to emerge with whatever awful, creative weapon he could scrounge up in less than a minute. It took three blows before the lid gave out, cracking down the middle and giving you just enough room to pry the two halves of the container apart, your fingers soon aching and cramping with the effort.

You were successful, though. In less than a minute, the fruits of your effort laid in front of you in the form of rusted tools and loose screws and wires, things that may’ve seemed unimpressive to anyone else but looked like small, disguised miracles to you. In hindsight, you should’ve been in more of a hurry than you were. You should’ve gotten what you needed and ran, as fast as you could and as far as you could, but freedom was a tricky thing. As soon as you got a taste for it, however small, all you wanted was more, even when real freedom was only a handful of rusted nails and broken boards away. You weren’t thinking about time when you grabbed the small, silver box-cutter, testing the dull blade against a lock of your hair, nor were you thinking at all when you decided what your next show of self-sufficiency would be. No, you were too giddy for that. You were too excited.

It didn’t take long to cut away the most visible mark Zacharia had left on you - your hair. He’d let it grow out since he took you away, refusing to cut it, letting every inch become another thing to tug at and wrap around his fist when he wanted something you didn’t know how to give. It felt good to rid yourself of it - no, it was more than that, it felt right. You couldn’t tear off the feeling of his hands on your skin or wash the memories away, but you could draw the box cutter through your hair until you no longer felt its weight pulling through your scalp, until the ends of it barely brushed against your shoulders. You weren’t a professional, nor was your impulsive haircut anywhere near even, but the deed was done and that was all that mattered to you.

In comparison, getting rid of the boards covering the basement window was child’s play. You’d done it a thousand times before, and Zacharia never bothered to upgrade his security. He wanted you to learn your lesson, he wanted you to be too afraid to try to run, but by doing so, he underestimated your tenacity and overestimated your will to recall all the bloody, grisly things he tried to teach you time and time again. The curved back of a rust-coated hammer did the trick, and within minutes, the two bottom-most planks had fallen away, giving you just enough space to haul yourself from Zacharia’s worktable to the edge of the windowsill and out into the darkened world, your eyes closing as you took in your first breath of fresh air.

It was a warm night, the kind of breezy, humid atmosphere you used to consider an unnecessary, juxtapositional nuisance. But, for all your opinion was worth, tonight was perfect, welcoming you as much as you welcomed it. You paused while you were still in the farmhouse’s shadow, looking out over Zacharia’s farm, the terrain you so often heard about but so rarely got a chance to map out, so rarely got the chance to see. It was bigger than you thought it’d be, but smaller, at the same time. Acres of crops stretched out in front of you, lines of yellow and green marching into the horizon, and to your side, only separated by a generous expanse of open field, stood a barn, all faded paint and sturdy wood and lights that were too bright and too harsh to be anything but industrial. It’d be a good hiding place, even if the woods surrounding his property would be your haven tonight. There were plenty of places to tuck yourself into, though. Full of empty stalls and unlocked doors and…

And a boy.

A boy with blonde hair, tan skin, a feed bucket in his hand and a smile too wide and too eager to belong to anyone you didn’t know.

You blinked once, then twice, and then you broke into a sprint, not bothering to stay long enough to hear Zacharia take off after you.

You’d almost forgotten how it felt to be chased.

All of it was so familiar, and yet, you could feel the forest getting further away every time the soles of your feet beat against the leaf-littered floor, every time your lungs ached and protested and every time you stumbled over a branch or a root and cursed your own body for being so useless. You knew what was happening. You were panicking, and thus, you were trying to distance yourself from the fight, the hunt, the sound of Zacharia getting closer and closer and closer until his hands were in your hair and his foot was colliding with the back of your knee, sending you crashing to the ground. By the time he had you pinned, his body bent over yours as one fist kept your wrists trapped behind your back and the other pushed your cheek into the dirt, you could hardly hear Zacharia’s deep, labored breaths, feel the heat radiating from his chest. Even the pain was delayed, your mind going blank before a thousand different needles dug themselves into your skin, stabbing and burrowing and writhing, forcing out a scream you could barely bring yourself to hear.

Zacharia, meanwhile, didn’t seem to feel the tension. If he wanted to be anywhere else, he didn’t seem reluctant to draw out the experience, his teeth ghosting over the nape of your neck as he pushed a soft, airy kiss into your spine, the gesture as forgiving as it was fatal. His lips pressed against your shoulder blade, letting the edges of his smile bite into your bare skin and muffling his chuckle, not that you needed anything other than the quick, almost unnoticeable squeeze to your wrists to know he was either amused, relieved, or so, so angry.

You had a feeling you knew which one, too. Not that Zacharia wasn’t happy to clarify.

“You fucked up.” It was a simple phrase, distorted only by the levity in his voice and his natural, charming drawl, making the words seem meaningless, disarming. You almost didn’t register his meaning, not until he let out an airy chuckle, the noise just low enough to make you flinch into the unforgiving earth. “You fucked up and you made me wait for it. This ain’t shapin’ up too well for you, honey.”

You didn’t apologize. You didn’t have time. As soon as he finished, you were being jerked upward, forced to your feet only to be pushed to your knees a moment later, your back now pressed against the thick, rough bark of an oak tree, Zacharia’s fingers entangled in the roots of your shortened hair to keep you grounded. You knew better than to try to fight him off, but you still winced when he spoke. “Wrists up,” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the length of rope at his belt. Already, you could feel the ghosts of past burns around your arms, your chest, and you hesitated without thinking, memories of pain warring with the knowledge that, if you didn’t comply, Zacharia would find a way to force you into something worse. It was a momentary reluctance, but that didn’t stop him from taking the excuse to drive the heel of his boot into your thigh, drawing both a pained cry and an instinctual shove, the former earning a tight, faux-sympathetic smile and the latter, a coil of rope, thick and heavy and so suddenly tight around your wrists, pulling your arms against your chest as Zacharia worked, restaining you against the sturdy trunk. “Gotta make sure you keep your hands to yourself, don’t I?” He called, securing your restraints, leaving you squirming and shifting for a way out of his simplistic security. “We all know how much trouble you get yourself into, whenever I look away.”

“I don’t…” You started, but trailed off quickly, not sure whether to apologize, beg for mercy, or call him one of the many vile names swirling on the tip of your tongue. Any insult you might’ve conjured was quickly swallowed down, though, dissolved and forgotten as Zacharia came back into your line of sight, something long and silver in his right hand, and a similar shape now missing from the hip of his belt.

A thin square of leather, the pad wrapped around a handle made up of two intertwined steel rods. A fly-swatter

A fucking fly-swatter.

You could’ve laughed. You might’ve, but whatever sound made it through your lips was drowned out by a solid, quick snap, the noise catching you off-guard, silencing you before the pain kicked in. It was bright, sudden, firm, a spark to the side of your knee that spread over your skin, refusing to die until you let out a small, almost inaudible whimper. Zacharia only smiled, his sharp grin glinting in the moonlight as he reached down, fiddling with the first button of your make-shift dress. “It’s been so long since you acted up,” He muttered, tugging on the fabric just enough to pull it loose. You flinched in response, bringing up your bound hands to cover your exposed chest, but Zacharia flashed a smirk and shook his head, and you were left to avert your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek like a scolded child, letting him trace the shape of your collarbone. “Almost forgot why I don’t let my animals wear anything nice.”

You moved to protest, but with a clench of his jaw and a strong jerk, whatever defense your clothing offered fell away, buttons snapping or falling away and leaving you in little more than a blanket of red flannel and thin, lacy panties, neither providing much protection from the biting cold. An icy breeze ran over your skin, urging you to curl up and shiver yourself to a happier time, but Zacharia was nothing if not selfish when it came to your attention. His swatter crashed against your side, the bottom of your rib cage, and when that failed to satisfy him, your bicep, pure fire seeping into your flesh wherever the leather made contact. “Stop!” You cried out, mindlessly. “It hurts, Zach, it hurts. You have to--”

“Look at that, now she’s forgettin’ her manners.” He clicked his tongue, the noise accompanied by three strikes to your cheek, your head twisting to the side and your eyes clamping shut, this wound throbbing, aching, threatening to bruise in a matter of seconds. “You ain’t gonna tell me I’ve been takin’ care of an ungrateful bitch, are you? I don’t house brats, and I know I haven’t been treatin’ one of ‘em as well as I’ve been treatin’ you.” He paused, a ruthless growl crawling out of his throat as something hard and pointed rammed itself into your stomach. A kick, you realized, just in time for the second, this one forcing your eyes open as hot, metallic blood washed over your tongue. “Some fucking nerve. I should bridle you and send you to sleep with the damn horses, just for bein’ so goddamn rude.”

He was cruel. He was cruel and cold-hearted and evil, but more than that, he was persistent. Blow after blow rained down, your chest morphing into a patchwork of sensitive irritation and black-rimmed bruises, your nerves alerted and abused and your mind growing so overwhelmed, all you could think about was the pain, how it changed, how it got worse, how it never seemed to numb. Again, his heel dug into the inside of your thigh and again, you screamed, but it wasn’t just the pressure, this time. No, a thousand tiny needles seemed to burrow themselves into your skin and move, forcing themselves deeper whenever you shifted or bled or breathed, any action only driving the invaders further in. Nettle, you realized, green and thriving and happy to call your flesh its new home, but if Zacharia cared that your blood was staining his favorite boots, his concern was outweighed by his unadulterated, sadistic glee. His attacks became more focused, more aimed, determined to drive you deeper or bring you closer, to let the nettle tear you apart or persuade you to accept your kidnapper’s discipline with open arms. You didn’t know which you’d rather suffer through. You didn’t know where you were or how to leave. You didn’t care.

You just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, and yet, tears were streaming down your cheeks before you could wipe them away, mixing with the blood pooling underneath you as they fell from your chin. Your lungs burnt, your chest heaved, each inhale becoming labored and each exhale turning into something desperate, something raspy and exhausted and barely human, as animalistic as he seemed to think you were. That was what satisfied Zacharia. Not your capture, not your pain, but your depletion and the emptiness that came with it. You didn’t look up when he dropped to one knee, cooing as he kissed the top of your head, and you didn’t stop mumbling your small, pathetic pleas until his rope dropped into your lap, falling to the ground as strong arms wrapped around you, looping under your knees and pulling you against a warm, welcoming chest. For a moment, it didn’t matter who it belonged to.

For a moment, you didn’t care that you shouldn’t want to be held.

The walk back to the farmhouse was a blur. Zacharia didn’t speak, not beyond a gentle hush whenever your sobbing grew a little too loud, but it was easy to fall into his heartbeat, his soft touches, the idea that your suffering was over, for now, at least. For the first time, you let out a sigh of relief when the basement came into view, but rather than dropping you into bed and leaving you to wallow in your own self-pity, you were carried to the ensuite bathroom, instead, left on the counter as Zacharia disappeared, searching for supplies and, hopefully, medicine.

You let yourself take a breath in, then let one out. It was easy, the easiest thing you’d done all night. Your pain didn’t reside and you were just as trapped as you’d been the night before, but you could inhale and exhale and you could convince yourself that you’d be alright, that eventually, you’d be fine. Zacharia couldn’t do anything worse to you, not tonight. He couldn’t humiliate you any further, you were sure of that. There was nothing else he could--

“Hey, baby, care to explain this?”

Instantly, you snapped towards the bathroom doorway, only to reel back once you saw what he’d found. In your manic escape, you’d forgotten about that damned thing, that terrible gift, that doll, its hair cropped short and its clothing sewn into something more specific, something boyish and so sickeningly obvious. Heat rose to your cheeks in a matter of seconds, but your embarrassment did little to stop a lazy smile from pulling at Zacharia’s lips, his satisfaction only becoming more apparent as he approached, throwing the ragdoll carelessly into the nearest corner as he settled in front of you. He got to work quickly, popping the lid off of some unlabelled, homemade remedy, but the soothing, oily balm soon being rubbed into your wounds did little to save you from Zacharia’s voice, the feeling of his teeth ghosting over your neck as he made himself comfortable in the crook of your neck. As you failed to fight back.

“If you missed me that much,” He started, his fingertips skittering over the shallow wounds on your legs and lower back, neglecting the bruises on your upper-body. He took his time, but he worked efficiently, letting his ointment smear your drying blood. Letting you feel the pricks of sterile, healing pain before something icy took its place and stuck around, making sure your injuries would stay in the back of your mind. Making sure you wouldn’t forget the lesson he’d cut into you. “You could’ve spoken up. I can’t have my little girl gettin’ this lonely, can I?” He barely tried to muffle his laugh, only kissing your shoulder hastily to stifle the sound. Even that came off as condescending - a consolation prize in place of his respect. “It looks like you’ve been coddling the poor thing half to death, too. You slept with it, didn’ya? Held it whenever I wasn’t around? C’mon, don’t keep me in the dark…” His left hand trailed towards the inside of your thigh, his thumb tracing over your covered slit. “You tried to fuck it, right?”

The question was so blunt, so out of place, you couldn’t stop yourself from going rigid, but Zacharia was quick to take you by the shoulder, using a fraction of his strength to keep you in place as he slid your panties to the side, forcing two fingers inside of you without preparation, without ease, without love. The stretch was awful, the feeling of his gloves and his balm creating something slick and cold and unnatural, but Zacharia just hummed, kissing your temple as you let out a silent gasp, trying not to tremble as you fought not to collapse in on yourself. He gave you a moment to adjust, but only a moment, seeming to savor the way you whimpered as he began to pull out.

“Please, I’m not-” Your plea was cut short by another brutal intrusion, this one just as sudden, made worse when paired with the way his fingers curled inside of you, stretching you open with no plan or precision. No, you’d been through this before, you knew what he was doing, why he was doing it. He was trying to prove something, to force you into a drooling, blissful submission. To prove that he could make you unravel better and faster than you or anyone else ever could. “I’m not ready. Please, you can’t do this.”

“I don’t think I asked.” If he had any intention to make you feel something other than electric, invasive pleasure, you couldn’t tell. He didn’t favor your sensitive spots, he abused them, prodding and poking whatever made you stiffen and twitch and whine, his hips becoming the only thing keeping your thighs from snapping shut. “I’ve been treating you with nothin’ but kindness, but you’re awful mean to me, tryin’ to run away every chance you get then mouthing off without permission. You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’ll be grateful for it. I don’t wanna hear another word out of you, not unless you’re ready to thank me for bein’ so forgiving.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your mouth refused to form the words, your brain refused to work, your entire body somehow freezing and burning at the same time. Zacharia went on, but you couldn’t seem to listen, your own racing pulse and the wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you soon filling your ears, making it impossible to take in anything else. It hurt. It was the best thing you’d ever felt. You wanted him to stop, and yet, you thought you might die if actually did. By the time he thought to actually consider your pleasure, the heel of his palm haphazardly grinding against your clit in rough, patternless motions, you were clinging to his shirt, mumbling out nonsense and begging him to stop, to keep going, to just get it over with. It didn’t matter though. Even if you had managed to speak, it still wouldn’t have.

Zacharia was too busy laughing to hear a word you said.

Your end came abruptly, too quickly but not nearly fast enough. His right hand fell, grabbing your waist and pinning you down as his left arched, poising as another digit slipped into you, giving you just enough friction and fulfillment to shove you over that desperate, messy cliffside. Your vision went white around the edges, your form tensing as your cunt clenched around him, the wave crashing as shakily as it’d formed. You didn’t try to resist your exhaustion, anymore. As soon as Zacharia pulled away, his now-unsanitary gloves easily discarded in the bathroom sink, you fell apart, crumbled, turned into nothing more than a pile of limbs and afterglow and shame.

“Poor baby,” He cooed, lifting you off the countertop as if he wasn’t the reason you couldn’t walk on your own. “We’ll have to get you cleaned up good ‘n proper tomorrow, a bath and…” He paused, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger, evaluating your rush-job. “And a real haircut. We’ll see if we can’t get you somethin’ a little more effective than that doll of yours, too.”

You didn’t have the energy to retort. It was all you could do to stay conscious, and even that was a push, your eyes closing as he carried you past your bedroom and only opening again when your back hit something warm and plush, softer than anything in the basement. Blearily, you glanced around the new environment, but the plain ceiling and rafters above you did little to clear your confusion. “This isn’t…”

“Thought you might enjoy the change of scenery,” Zacharia explained, the mattress shifting as he sat down, leaning against the wooden headboard as he encouraged you to relax. You didn’t bother trying to resist, letting him guide your head into his lap, not batting his hand away when his fingers began to card through your hair. “The attic, sweetheart. There ain’t no windows up here, and you don’t have to worry about all the clutter in your last room. I made sure you have exactly what you need, no more, no less. Almost thought you weren’t gonna give me a reason to show it off.”

Dully, you noted that ‘exactly what you need’ probably didn’t include very much. “And you’re staying?”

“For as long as I can.” From anyone else, the sentiment might’ve sounded sweet, considerate. When the words fell from Zacharia’s lips, it just sounded like a warning. “Why wouldn’t I?”

It was a fleeting concern. An immature one. Something you shouldn’t have cared about, but you clung to nonetheless. Like you were still coming to terms with the events of the past few hours. “What about your--”

Zacharia smiled sympathetically, pityingly, and you stopped talking.

Only then, with your cheek pressed against the rough fabric of his pants and his blunt nails scraping against your scalp, did you remember that Zacharia didn’t keep cows. He never had, and you doubted he ever would. He’d said as much himself, repeated it countless times prior to the past two months.

You stopped trying to keep yourself awake, after that.

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queerpyracy · 4 years ago

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I hope it's ok to ask your farmer expertise for writing purposes? if a farm was abandoned for c. 2 weeks, with no one to care for the animals, how would the ones you are familiar / have experience with fare -- starve, break out of barns/enclosures, etc? I'll drop dollar in your ko-fi if u answer thx

i'm gonna put this under a cut both bc it's long and bc some of the content might be upsetting, general content warning for animal death and injury

so, what kind of farm infrastructure you have/how it was left is going to matter here

animals with outdoor access are going to have a much easier time getting out than those closed up in a barn, though if they are closed up they'll push on anything they can get to move and doors can come off tracks/hinges, a big enough and desperate enough animal will break a chain on a gate or break a latch on a door. (bulls, especially, are great for fucking up gates for less desperate reasons than thirst. we had a mature bull jump over a gate for horny reasons, and there is now a permanent bend in the top bar.) sometimes they even lift gates off their hinges, which isn’t a perfect way to get out bc cows don’t like walking over that kind of stuff but they will if they have to.

chickens aren't great fliers but they can get over fences pretty easy if there's not a roof in the way, so if they're penned but not in a coop, they'll get out to look for food and water. they'll have the easiest time food-wise (unless it's winter) but will also be the easiest for smaller predators (hawks, raccoons, foxes, skunks, coyotes, etc) to pick off. this'll depend on whether or not your hypothetical farm was abandoned during the day with chickens outside or at night when they were shut up in the coop for protection, in which case, unless your birds have access to two weeks worth of water, they're fucked. mine made it about 8 days on the water provided them when we had to evacuate because of wildfires, but they were topped off knowing we might not be able to get back to them and given extra water because of it. we're talking a 2 gallon covered water can + a coffee can for seven hens, it wasn't too hot, and they were almost dry when i was able to come home.

chickens might be able to make it without food for two weeks, but they might also start cannibalizing each other. this would probably start with a bird at the bottom of the pecking order getting injured and then the situation escalating from there. (this, by the way, doesn't happen unless chickens are under a lot of stress. like chickens are fucked up but i feel the need to be clear that this is not Normal chicken behavior. they will give each other minor injuries but cannibalism happens bc of extreme stress.) chickens will also kill small snakes and rodents.

chickens that are outside without being able to get back in their coop will find a tree or other elevated place to roost at night. chickens that are outside with access to their coop might choose to roost in their coop or outside. laying birds will also start to pick fun new secret places to lay their eggs, under bushes and such. even fed chickens will sometimes eat their own eggs, hungry chickens are absolutely likely to become routine egg eaters. extremely hungry chickens will stop laying.

roosters might be able to fend off skunks and raccoons, but hawks drop out of the sky* and anything much larger than a raccoon is going to devestate an unprotected flock. chickens that are outside in winter and can't get out of the cold are going to be vulnerable to frostbite, particularly their toes and combs. also: if a chicken gets wet down to its skin there is a very high likelihood it will get sick and die.

*hawks will kill a chicken but chickens are also generally too large for them to carry off, so they’ll leave most of the chicken where they found it.

a note on predators in general: you'll have to decide how aggressive they were before the humans were no longer around. where i am, the coyotes are pretty good about keeping their distance, but that's not true of every place, and if they were already a problem, they'll definitely increase their hunting in the absence of humans to keep them at bay. larger animals like cows and horses might be able to drive off or kill a coyote/dog or a small bear, but if they're contending with mountain lions that'll be more of a problem for them. not impossible to drive off/kill, but much more likely to successfully kill livestock.

i don't have much experience with sheep but a problematic dog can kill tons of them in a relatively short time so you can extrapolate from there. i can't think of anyway people tend to keep rabbits that wouldn't leave them dying of dehydration after a few days, unless they manage to pop a latch on their cage/hutch, but they too are going to be extremely vulnerable to predation, being small, unaccustomed to wild conditions, and possibly a highly visible color. domestic rabbits also can die of fright very easily. (my sister's rabbit, who survived a cow sitting on her cage and lived many years after, is an outlier and should not be counted.)

what kind of fencing you have is going to matter: cows don't give much of a shit about barbed wire fences even when they aren't thirsty and hungry, so that won't be much of a problem for them either. if the fence is old, they might push over a rotting post and get out that way. downed wires (barbed or otherwise) might result in an animal getting tangled up--they might be stuck or they might have a horrible ankle bracelet which will cut into them and get infected. they might break the wire from the fence, have a horrible ankle bracelet, and get stuck/tie up their back legs somewhere else.

electric fences are going to be a bit more problematic unless the power is down. cows (and i assume most other livestock) will go through an electric fence if the voltage is compromised in some way, which can happen just from having tall grass/weeds that get wet and short out the fence. if an animal gets tangled up in a hot electric fence and there's no one there to free it, then it's fucked. an electric fence isn't going to be hot enough to kill it fast, is the problem, just enough to make it harder to escape. (i had a rather frightening experience this last summer with a heifer getting her back legs tangled in a temporary wire. she's fine but she wouldn't have gotten out without my help and her legs didn't work for a couple of minutes, and she seemed kind of Off for weeks after that. you wouldn't know anything had happened to her, now.)

wire mesh fences are going to be the hardest to get out of. cow/hog panel fences can be busted where they're tied together/stapled to a post (especially, again, if the fence is old and the posts are decaying.) wooden fences they will just knock over or break through. hedges will be eaten and used for shelter. if for some reason this farm has stone walls that could be a problem for everything except maybe goats and chickens.

goats are escape artists anyway, as long as their horns to get stuck in anything/their feet don't get tangled up, they'll be out and roaming. they are smaller and thus more vulnerable to predators than larger livestock.

access to water is going to be the primary motivator in the short term and the thing that will kill shut-in animals the fastest, as for whether or not anything that manages to get outside will starve in two weeks time, that's going to depend on the season and place. the middle of winter in a place with snow and ice is going to be very hard, obviously, but if we're anywhere between spring and autumn and there is food to be had somewhere, then hungry animals will try to get to it. if they can't get out of fences, hunger might drive them to eat toxic plants they ordinarily avoid. how deadly that is to them depends on how toxic it is, how much is available for them to eat, and how big the animal is. a large cow can probably survive a few stems of tansy ragwort but not a field. (sheep, weirdly enough, can apparently eat young tansy ragwort plants without issue? again, not much experience with sheep but this fact has haunted me since i read it. tansy ragwort causes liver damage in almost everything but sheep, which die at the drop of a hat, Fine, I Guess.)

they'll also start chewing on things that aren't toxic but they might avoid for other reasons, like risking scratching up their nose by eating blackberry leaves, or lower branches of conifer trees. any branches of deciduous trees they can reach, if in leaf, will be one of the first things they go after. if they're regularly pastured under these trees, they'll already have pruned up the bottom branches to however high the tallest animal can reach. if it's autumn or after and there are apples or other fruit on the ground they'll absolutely clean those up, no matter how old--tho after two weeks anyone who finds the place will probably have missed the period of time in which there were drunk livestock. goats will also strip bark off trees, girdling and ultimately killing the tree.

if they can get out of fences they'll wander however far they need to go to find more food. how lucky they are again depends on the season and location. steep hills will provide more danger, especially if it's wet and slick. how regularly they return to the farm itself probably depends on where the water is and if there's better shelter there than anywhere else. (depending on how isolated your hypothetical farm is, wandering livestock might be the indicator that something is Wrong.)

if there are stores of grain laying around that ruminant livestock get into and gorge themselves on, they could get bloat and die that way. they'll also eat bedding straw if hungry, which isn't really nutritious, as long as it isn't covered in urine or feces. in a mixed species group of animals they're more likely to graze closer to/around the feces of other species than in their own. don't ask me why this is just something i've observed.

under severe stress like dehydration or hunger a lactating animal will dry up, which could have consequences for their offspring. if they're old enough to eat solid foods this isn't necessarily lethal, but could stunt their growth in the long term, or leave them more vulnerable to hypothermia bc of the decrease in calories.

some bullet points bc this is A Lot:

animals that are closed up in a barn/coop/etc are at a much higher risk of dying in under a two week time span than animals that aren't

thirst and lack of shelter will kill them faster than hunger

winter is going to in general be the most dangerous season for them to go two weeks without care

most livestock find ways to escape their holdings even when they aren't desperate

small and very young animals are going to in general be more vulnerable to weather and predation

that's about all i can think of off the top of my head, if you have any more questions i'm happy to help.

#farm tag #Anonymous

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secondhand-trash · 5 years ago

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A/N: oh hello there. Are you surprised to see the banner? Did you think that I have abandoned the au and decided to pretend that it never existed?uwu Well here is the first actual content of the harvest moon au^^

Description: You woke up to find a calf that didn’t seem to be yours in your farm.

Warning: I have never step outside the city so everything farming related is gonna be very inaccurate, please note that this is a farming simulator au not a farming au qwq

Word count: 1346

First Encounter (intimacy lv. 0)

(back to the main screen of Harvest Moon: Plus Ultra!)

(back to the character index of Kirishima Eijirou)

Farm life was, quite frankly, a hassle.

It had been several days since you moved from the big city you grew up in to the old ranch your grandparents left for you before they set foot on their world-traveling retirement plan and while the bugs at night were unbearable and you still had a hard time forcing yourself to leave the comforts of the mattress right as the sun rises every day, you had a feeling that you were getting there to being the ranch owner that would make your precessors proud.

Maybe, sort of, hopefully.

You wouldn’t say that you were born with a talent for this field of work but you had a feeling that you were learning fast. Of course, you still had to check the handbooks to know how often and how much water was needed for each type of plant, you got tired quickly after getting the cattle out of the barn onto the fields, and sure you panicked when you remembered that you forgot to put the hens back into their little houses right as you were about to go to bed more times than you would like to admit, but you were trying your best and learning from your mistakes.

You might not be a good ranch owner, but you were really trying your hardest and you had a feeling that no matter how much of an amateur you were, you would probably be able to recognise your own cows. You sure hope that was the case because as you stood face to face with this brown little thing in the middle of your fields, you were almost positive that it wasn’t here the night before.

The calf with soft brown fur didn’t budge as you kneeled down to stare at it. You looked at the barn from a distance out of the corner of your eye, quickly counting the number of cattle you did have only to slowly lose confidence in the number you came up with more and more. You silently cursed yourself for procrastinating in organising the log Iida had left you when you arrived in town, saying that it was important to have a clear account of everything when running a farm. (He was right, you should have listened, wasn’t it common logic to listen to advice from people who wear thin-framed glasses anyways?)

The baby cow looked at you with its round eyes, tail swinging back and forth behind its back. It’s head followed yours as you tilted your head in confusion as you pondered what you were supposed to do about it. You wondered if it could feel how much of a pinch it had put you in while it seemingly mirrored your actions and tipped its nose to the side.

“Mooooooo?”

A hollow yell echoed from behind your back and the calf broke its eye contact from you for the first time. It seemed to be excited in hearing that voice, looking up towards the entrance of the ranch where the voice must have come from.

Was it the sound of someone... pretending to be a cow?

The calf brushed past you as it ran towards the sound and you quickly got up to follow it. A fiery pop of red appeared by the fence of the ranch as you got closer and a young man walked into your view. He had his hands around his mouth like he was yelling, eyes glancing around as he walked. Upon spotting the brown coat of the calf by your gates, his eyes sparkled with delight, lips curling up to form a toothy grin.

His smile didn’t falter when he looked up to see you coming towards the fence. He was about to shake your hand when he suddenly retreated right when you were going to take his extended palm. Grinning sheepishly, he muttered a few words of apology as he went and wiped his palm on the fabric of his trousers, saying something about getting dirt and sweat all over from working that morning before reaching out again, a sharp tooth poking out as he smiled.

You couldn’t help but felt your own lips lifting up at how contagious his demeanor was. “I’m (y/n).”

“Kirishima,” he said as he shook your hand, his grip on your hand didn’t loosen for a bit as he talked, “you must be the new owner!”

“Mhm-” you found it a bit hard to talk with how he excited he was when shaking your hand.

“Aw, welcome to town! Your grandparents used to make snacks for the kids in town all the time!” He said, nearly beaming as he continued to not let go of your hand. You tried to maintain the smile on your face, but you were finding it harder to even nod with how strong his arm was compared to yours. Noticing your struggle, he released your hand with an embarrassed chuckle, the hand went back to brush past his hair that was matted on his forehead by the sheer sheen of sweat as the tips of his ears grew red.

“Thanks,” you discretely rubbed your hand that was now feeling rather sore as the calf bumped its head against your leg and you remembered why he was probably here in the first place. “Is it yours?”

“Yeah!” He bent down to pick up the calf with ease and your eyes widened at how he just casually lifted it up like it weighed nothing. He held it in his arms, rubbing at the back of its ears as he turned to show it to you. “Moo was gone when I went to check the barn this morning and I was scared that she got lost or something, good to know that she had been in great hands!”

You were about to be cordial about it and say that you didn’t do much when you paused to process what he just said.

“Her name is..?"

"Moo!”

“Oh.” You blinked, connecting how he was actually calling out for the calf’s name just earlier but quickly recovered from your momentary confusion. “Well I’m glad you found her, I was wondering what I’m supposed to do with her.”

The calf darted it tongue out to lick Kirishima’s jaw, making him laugh at how tickly it was. You were leaning on the fence, smiling as you watched the wholesome interaction. Kirishima’s eyes traveled between you and the calf in his arms that was trying to twist its way out of his hold.

“You know what?” You watched in confusion as he put Moo down in front of you, “I think you should keep her.”

Your eyes were blown wide while he smiled like it was no big deal. “Oh I can’t just take her from you-”

“It’s alright,” he said, giving you a thumbs up, “my family runs the animal shop down in the bazaar. She’ll go to someone else anyway, might as well give it to a cutie like you.” He laughed when you pretended to roll your eyes at his remark, Moo rubbed her nose against your palm as you leaned down to pet her. “I think she likes you.”

“Thanks.” You said, watching him ruffled Moo’s fur as a goodbye. “You should come around to visit Moo when you’re free, I’m sure she’ll miss you.”

“Will she now?” He eyed you as he said, chewing the inside of his mouth to stop himself from going too far. As he was about to go back along the road, he turned around. “I’ll see you around town?”

“Sure,” you replied, toying with the soft fur behind Moo’s ear, “Besides, I have a feeling I’ll be around the animal shop quite often.”

You watched as the red disappeared at the end of the road. Bending down, you huffed when you struggled to pick up the calf by your feet. Kirishima made it look so easy. Making your way to put Moo into her new home, you had a feeling you’ll be seeing the boy from the animal shop again very soon.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #harvest moon au

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adultswim2021 · 3 years ago

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Aqua Teen Hunger Force #32: “Revenge of the Trees” | October 12, 2003 - 11:45 PM | S03E13

A nasty episode that is simply too nasty. But I’m a pretty twisted guy so I actually LIKE IT. Revenge of the Trees is about some alive trees being pissed off with Shake after he dumps a huge thing of fryer oil in the woods. Carl is along for the ride and unfortunately fares worse for it; in the episode the trees form a “tree court” and use sheets of Carl’s skin to send official court documents back and fourth. It’s so gross! I actually avoid this episode because it’s simply too rude for me to handle.

The opening sequence, meaning the scenes after the theme song and not the Dr. Weird sequence (which I HAVE STUFF TO SAY ABOUT), shows the Aqua Teens and Carl having a Labor Day celebration. Frylock is trying to get everyone to eat his bullshit white steaks made of Tofu when Shake arrives with just a dead cow which he reveals he got from “a farm”, hilarious line. I always think that despite the grotesque presentation it genuinely makes me hungry, which is just me echoing my pal Kon’s (happy birthday by the way) original sentiment towards said scene.

Okay, the Dr. Weird sequence. A long time ago when I did a version of this project, I got really obsessed with the idea of a slightly more definitive order of these episodes, and it turns out the production order makes slightly more sense, which is how I’ve numbered these episodes. #32 means it’s the 32nd episode in production order, which is how they used to identify them on the Adult Swim website. Case in point: this Dr. Weird opener actually references the Dr. Weird segment form Broodwich, which has yet to air. It’s really too bad that the one bit of continuity they ever attempted got fucked up by basically chance. Really. It really, really is.

MAIL BAG

you've been hit by, you've been struck by...A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

Nasty! The guy who sang this was disgusting and used his fame to make kids kiss each other and stuff. Fuck you dude. You are nasty

You don't have to call me a bozo. You can just call me...a friend.

Happy birthday BOZO! I CAN TELL THIS IS KON! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KON! IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY REALLY YOU DOING THIS!

When's the last time you got sand in your buns? Is "being on a beach" a thing that is totally over for you?

Outside of looking at women’s breasts and butt cheeks I really have never enjoyed being on a beach in my entire life. The ocean sickens me. It’s teaming with monsters. I know what you’re thinking: sometimes there are dogs there too. But THEY (CLAP) ALL (CLAP) GET (CLAP) EATEN

Do you ever read a really bad mailbag message and just hear the Dr. Katz theme and be like "uh yeah, I'm done for today".

I tried desperately to find a clip of just Dr. Katz saying “you know what the music means. Our time is up” and the credits playing with the standard closing theme underneath it but most episodes I tried had an additional comedy bit playing over the credits instead. So please just picture it yourself

Is there a certifiable end point to this blog. Are you just gonna keep heading to the present and then stop like with the simpsons or is there a specific where your lack of memories or knowledge of shows wains enough that is just not worth keeping up? I know the blog says 2021 but surely its going beyond that, you'll be lucky to reach 2004 by december.

The first time I did this project Adult Swim had EXPLODED and there were like 6 new shows every Sunday and those days are LONG GONE so I suspect I’ll eventually catch up with the present and go until the day we are all consumed by the entire planet catching on fire

#adult swim #aqua teen hunger force #adultswim2021

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softlass27 · 4 years ago

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Flufftober Day 29 – thunderstorm dedicated to @robertssvgden, because she loves the idea of robron + seb and eve as a family unit, and she deserves nice things x

AO3 link here

As they stood shivering in the schoolyard, Robert glanced above them.

“The heavens are gonna open any second now.”

Aaron tilted his head up to see dark clouds rapidly filling the sky, the wind picking up with every passing minute. They’d been getting weather warnings all day, broadcasters promising that tonight was guaranteed to bring a seriously wild storm their way.

Paddy was stuck on an overnight callout with some heavily-pregnant cows, and Aaron’s mum had called him about an hour ago to say that she didn't feel safe driving on the motorway in this weather, so she was stuck in… some hotel, she was pretty vague on the details. She’d told him she was away to meet with potential new suppliers, but between her terrible lying and the sound of an unexpected male voice in the background, Aaron suspected wherever his mother had gone had nothing to do with work.

Either way, Eve had no one to pick her up or look after her, so his mum had begged him to take her for the night – possibly the weekend. Like she needed to ask.

So now they were stood in their usual spot with the other parents at Hotten Primary, waiting to collect two kids instead of one.

Just as the first few droplets of rain began to hit their cheeks, Eve came out of the doors, her eyes quickly scanning the yard until she spotted them and ran over, schoolbag swinging in the air. When she was just a few feet away from them, a violent gust of wind blew behind her, pushing her tiny body along the last few steps until she crashed into Aaron’s legs with a small oof.

“Windy,” she said, blinking up at them.

“Yeah, squirt.” Aaron took the bag from her before it blew right out of her hand.

“Is Mummy not coming?”

“Her and your Dad are both stuck because of the storm. They can’t come back just yet so you’re gonna stay with us tonight, okay?”

“'Kay,” she nodded, pushing her increasingly wild hair out of her eyes.

“Just need to wait for Seb, then we can get home and out of this crazy weather.”

As the three of them stood waiting for the Year 3's to come out, another, even stronger, gust of wind nearly sent Eve flying to one side; Robert snagging her by the hood of her coat was the only thing that stopped her from tumbling to the ground.

“Right.” He grabbed her securely by the waist and picked her up. “Think I’d better hold onto you before you actually blow away, missy.”

“Wish Seb’d hurry up,” she mumbled, pulling her hood up and tucking her face into Robert’s neck, out of the stinging rain.

“Don’t we all?”

As much as Aaron adored his son, he was a notorious dawdler, always chatting to his teacher or messing around with his mates on his way outside. He’d take the rest of the afternoon to reach the school gates if he could.

Eventually, Seb made his way to the yard, surrounded by his usual gaggle of classmates. Any inclination he’d had to keep chatting to them was swiftly curbed by Aaron’s firm get over here now gesture. He jogged over sheepishly, cramming a beanie on top of his head.

“You get lost or summat?” Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, taking his PE kit from him.

“I went to check if my art project was dry and – ”

“Yep, lovely, you can tell us all about it on the way home,” Robert grumbled, wrapping his free hand around Seb’s shoulder and ushering him towards the car. “We need to get inside before this storm kicks off properly.”

They all clambered in and set off, Robert navigating the usual school run traffic with practiced ease.

“Dad?” Seb asked after a few minutes of driving.

“Hm?”

“Miss Brooks told us this is gonna be the biggest storm Yorkshire’s had in more than 20 years,” he said, wide-eyed. “The biggest since 2003. Was that one really massive?”

“It was, I remember it,” Robert nodded, flicking the windscreen wipers to faster setting. “New Year’s Eve. It put a massive hole in the pub roof n’all.”

“My pub?” Eve chimed in, eyes turning even bigger than Seb’s.

“Yep, it caved right in. I didn’t see it happen though; I was living on the farm, and I had to help my dad get all the animals inside so they’d be safe.”

“Woah.” Seb sounded so impressed, Robert didn’t have the heart to mention that someone had unfortunately died as a result of said hole in the roof.

“2003. That's so long ago,” Eve mused, fingertips following the paths of rainwater sliding down the window. “Years and years and – ”

“Yes, okay,” Robert said loudly. “I feel ancient now, thanks for that.”

Eve and Seb just laughed, like the demon spawn they both were.

“Do you remember the storm too, Dad?” Seb asked, a hand over his mouth failing to suppress the grin on his face.

“Nah, I wasn’t living in the village then,” Aaron smirked. “Was a bit before my time, I’m a lot younger than Old Man Sugden over here.”

“How old are you, Rob?”

“50,” Seb said with a snort.

“100!”

“150!"

“Kids, come on, he’s not a day over 72,” Aaron drawled, only to yelp when Robert briefly took a hand off the steering wheel to swipe at him, which only made the backseat passengers cackle even harder.

The laughter was suddenly cut short, however, when a wayward tree branch hit the bonnet with a loud bang, before bouncing off onto the road.

“Jesus!” Robert jerked the car in surprise, before quickly regaining control and continuing down the road in silence, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

Aaron glanced back to see both Seb and Eve’s smiles had been replaced with slightly nervous looks, Eve biting her bottom lip anxiously.

“It’s okay.” He quickly reached a hand back to pat her knee reassuringly. “It was just a tiny branch, practically a twig, nothing to worry about. We’ll be home soon.”

By the time they arrived in the village, the rain was lashing down, pelting the roof of the car so loudly they struggled to hear themselves talk. There was hardly anyone outside, and the few that were looked like they were quickly retreating indoors. They passed Leyla leaving her office with her head down, tottering unsteadily on her stiletto heels, and David and Jacob quickly pulling potted plants and buckets of umbrellas back into the safety of the shop.

As they pulled onto the drive, the ominous first sounds of thunder could be heard rumbling overhead.

“Okay, inside, go go go!”

The four of them scrambled out of the car and dashed towards the house, Robert fumbling with the keys to unlock the door.

“In your own time,” Aaron grouched, hunching over to shield the kids from the worst of it as best he could.

“Hang on, I can’t feel my bloody fingers.”

Eventually, he managed to get the key in the lock and they burst into the warmth of the house, already drenched in the brief minute it had taken to get inside.

“C-cold,” Seb shivered, peeling off his sodden hat and jacket and dropping them on the rug.

“So cold you forgot how to use a coat peg?” Robert said exasperatedly, picking it up. “Why don’t you two go upstairs and have a couple of nice, hot showers while I get tea started? Eve, you can use our mine and Aaron's bathroom, if you want? Aaron’ll help you turn the taps on.”

“Can I use your fancy shower gel?”

Robert sighed and ruffled her damp hair. “If you must.”

Eve grinned and began to follow Seb up the stairs, only to freeze at a flash of lightning.

“The storm won’t put a hole in this roof, will it?”

“You think Robert would let that happen?” Aaron smiled at her. “Nah, we built our place to be extra strong,”

“Storm-proof, even,” Robert added from the kitchen.

“See? We’re safe as houses in here, I promise. Go on upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, yeah?”

Seemingly satisfied, Eve nodded and carried on up the stairs. They heard the sound of her feet running along the landing, presumably to what was unofficially dubbed as “her room”, since she spent so much time in it, before the door gently clicked shut.

“What’s for tea?” Aaron sighed, padding over to the kitchen and hooking his chin over Robert’s shoulder.

Robert hummed and leaned back against his chest while he chopped some veg. “Shepherd’s pie, should warm the kids up.”

“So domestic, you,” Aaron grinned, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I just hope the power doesn’t go out tonight.”

“Me too, otherwise we’ll have to keep them entertained the old-fashioned way.”

“What’s the old-fashioned way?”

“Er… how good are you at shadow puppets?”

A minute later, Seb came downstairs to find his dad frantically plugging every laptop and tablet into its charger.

#robron #my writing #flufftober2020

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dearyams · 5 years ago

Note

wanted to send you a prompt i was gonna do but i am too lazy prompt: mike and will have been dating but havent said i love you, mike is going on some trip for a week where cell phones dont work (obv future fic) and so Byeler is having a phone convo before mike arrives at his destination and they wont be able to talk to each other a week and will says tells mike he loves him but before mike can respond the phone disconnects as Mike arrives at the destinationn

[ crossposted on AO3 ]

“Finished packing yet?”

Mike turns from his suitcase and the clothes piles spread about the floor in his room and grins when he spots Will leaning on the doorframe a few feet away. He’s got two iced coffee cups in hand, indicative of finishing his part-time hours at the local coffee shop a few blocks north from the Byers residence. Mike wonders if Will biked his way over or took a lift with his brother to come visit before the Wheelers make their way on an impromptu trip to upstate New York at a cabin his dad had recently inherited.

The kneeling boy waves his hands at the disorderly state surrounding him and shrugs. “I’m trying and failing at packing the right clothes for this venture, I’ll say that.”

Will chuckles and walks fully into the room. He passes along Mike’s coffee, shoving around haphazardly folded pants to find a seat on the floor beside the other boy. Mike watches him grab a sweater and toss it aside. “It’s summer so you don’t need to pack heavy. Just grab some t-shirts and jeans; that should do. Shorts too if you’d like.”

“Sure,” sighs Mike before sipping from his cup. “I don’t want to make the visit miserable if I’m wearing the wrong clothes. Wrong for the weather and wrong for looking tolerable in the photos I know Mom is gonna force on me.”

Will laughs, a gentle breeze in the summer’s heat. “You’ll look good in whatever you put on.”

“As my boyfriend, you’re kind of obligated to say that.”

“Not really.” the brunette leans in to kiss Mike’s cheek. “I’ll let you know when you look bad if only for the sake of my own eyes.”

“And when you won’t be next to me, how will you judge my outfits properly?”

Will checks his watch and hums. “When’s your departure? If you have time, you can try out some of the outfits and I’ll let you know what works.”

Mike grins as he reaches over Will’s lap and snags a band t-shirt. “Sneaky aren’t you; tryna get me undressed.”

“I’ll cover my eyes.” Will places his unoccupied hand over his eyes but spreads his fingers between his middle and ring fingers to peek through the opening. Mike scoffs, tossing a stray pair of shorts at his face which makes the brunette laugh heartily. Mike already misses Will, the knowledge that they’ll be separated for a week squeezing his heart dry with romantic despair. He wishes Will could come with but the trip was pretty unplanned and though Mike's “job” as a blog writer and editor doesn’t require a remote location, Will’s job doesn’t allow the same ease when taking off work.

(Though Mike thinks he’ll probably still be working offline on an article if his mom doesn’t steal his laptop for “family bonding in the forest” time.)

Mike’s sudden fashion show lasts for about an hour and while Will does offer good input, most of that hour is spent playing around and Mike sneaking in as many kisses as they can get away with whenever Mike peels off a shirt and struggles to get his head through the tight collar of another. Afterwards, Will helps finish packing and when completed, they lounge about on Mike’s bed as Will discusses the customers he met earlier in the day.

Though he knows packing just mere hours before departure isn’t a habit he should develop, especially when the plans for his career require frequent traveling, he spent the night before editing a movie review scheduled for posting during the drive. Mike doesn’t regret his momentary time mismanagement if it means he spends more time with Will before the trip. The article can wait—he’s posting it early anyway—but time spent with his boyfriend is always coveted.

When Mike’s mom knocks on the door, Will pulls away from Mike’s chest where he rested his head as they page through Mike’s hard copy of The Golden Compass which he wanted to review in line with the show’s release. Shaking his head and straightening his hair as best as possible, Mike struts to his door and opens it with raised eyebrows. His mom looks up from checking her phone and offers Mike a tight smile before looking past him to wave at Will.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two,” she starts warmly, “but Mike, we have to get going soon. The traffic through the city is getting dense thanks to an accident on the 70.”

“Got it,” replies Mike as he turns back to Will, who walks to his side with both their empty cups in hand. “I’ll see you in a few days, Byers.”

“‘Course.” Will grins and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Call me when you’re getting close to your destination.”

“Sure, worrywart,” he teases but turns his face to kiss Will’s lips one last time before he has to depart. He watches Will nod bashfully at his mom and give her a short goodbye before making his way downstairs. Mike doesn’t look away until he hears the front door closing and then he casts his gaze on his mom. “Are Dad, Nancy, and Holly waiting outside?”

“Yes,” she nods toward the front of the house. “We’ll all just waiting on you now.”

It doesn’t take long for Mike to join his family at the car, and as his dad pulls out the driveway, Mike turns in the direction of the Byers and smiles when he sees Will on his bike a little ways down the road watching. He sticks his hand out the window, his wave only growing more frantic when Will waves back. Holly giggles and Nancy makes a side comment about love sick teenagers as if she wasn’t one herself during her escapades with Steve, Jonathan, and now Robin. The first hour and a half fills with Holly saying “moo” every time they pass a cow on the way to the interstate and Mike feels like smashing his head against his window when they pass a farm and Holly moos until she nearly passes out. Pulling out his phone, Mike shoots Will a selfie of himself despondently looking out the window and groans when his cell service takes its sweet time sending the message along. Mike gets a reply a reply twenty minutes later: Will laughing at his misery with a short additional, “you’ll be there before you know it,” and a bunch of kiss emojis.

The next hour passes with Mike flipping through his ever growing Will gallery, a digital photo album filled with selfies and candid shots of Will, both solo and with Mike. He’s not one for being in photos himself but Will manages to drag him into a few selfies here and there. He doesn’t mind snapping a selfie either by himself or together—cheeks squished as they both attempt to fit in the frame as Mike holds the phone up and out—because Will always asks him to send the photo along and then makes it his lock screen until the next time he convinces Mike it’s photo time.

After settling on a candid shot Mike snapped when he and Will visited Lovers’ Lake and the sun framed Will like a bright halo of fire, Mike settles on playing a mobile game for about another two hours before staring out the window until the trees blend together and his eyes find themselves sliding shut. He wakes up a few times here and there when the family stops at gas stations and picks up snacks—he definitely remembers his mom arguing with his dad about stopping at a hotel which they ultimately don’t do—but he wakes up for the final time to his phone buzzing in his lap, startling him out of a dream he quickly forgets upon waking. Caller ID tags the number as Will and he immediately answers as he scrambles for his headphones in his pocket.

“Hey,” he begins, shoving the headphone plug into the slot at the bottom of the device, “Is everything okay back home?”

“Everything’s great,” Will’s voice crackles on the line and Mike peaks outside in the darkness to notice the forest surrounding him. They must be close to the cabin destination already. He didn’t think he had slept for that long. “Just checking in since it’s about time you’ve arrived if your dad didn’t take a rest.”

Mike laughs. “You’re cute, you know, checking up on me like this.” He hears Nancy snorting and reaches over Holly to pinch her bare arm. She glares at him and covers Holly’s eyes to flip him off. “Nancy says hello by the way.”

“Hello back to her.” Mike can hear Will’s grin and his heart clenches in sorrow at the current distance between them. “Are you doing okay there?”

“Yeah, peachy.” Mike yawns and covers his mouth. “Is it too cheesy to say I already miss you?”

“Maybe, but I miss you, too, so you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

A sleepy smile curls itself on Mike’s lips. “One week, Byers; one week and then I’m back.”

“Yeah, but don’t spend your time counting down the days, alright? I’ll do that for us both; you just have a great time at the cabin.”

Mike would kiss him if he could. “I’ll try my best but you know how my brain works.”

“Are you telling me it actually does work?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Will laughs heartily. “Why are you laughing; I’m serious this time.”

“Sure, Wheeler.” Mike frowns as the last bit of his name gets caught in static. “Hey, I know this is probably something that should wait until you’re back but this separation made me realize I should tell you either way.”

“This sounds pretty important.”

“Yeah. I, uh, you probably already know this though but,” and Will takes a deep breath and releases it, though Mike hears it in short, split crackles. “Mike, I love you.”

The clarity in those four words stuns Mike into speechlessness and his mouth dries as his heart thumps speedily in his chest. Will is right, Mike already knows Will loves him, but this is the first time Will has ever said the fact out loud. I love you echoes in Mike’s head at the reverb levels of a rock guitarist. It takes far too long for his brain to come back online, but by the time it does, the car speeds past a brush of trees and the call suddenly drops. Mike looks down at his phone screen as the loud call dropped tone passes through his headphones. His home screen—a playfully disgruntled selfie as Will kisses his cheek—stares him back in the face as Will’s voice continues to bounce about in his head.

Mike, I love you.

Mike quickly calls back but his phone spits back the message that he has no service. “Nancy,” he hisses even though the entire car heard his part of his conversation with Will anyway, “do you have any service on your phone? I need to call Will back and my phone is being homophobic.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows but checks phone and shakes her head. “Looks like you’re straight out of luck.”

“Ha; you’re quite the comedian, aren’t you.” Mike reaches forward to tap his mom’s arm. “Mom, can I borrow your phone to finish a call?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’ve lost service, too. I don’t think any of us can use internet on our phones.”

“Does the cabin at least have wifi?”

“Nope,” snorts Mike’s dad as he drives the car down a dirt road further into the forest. “You kids these days need to learn what life is like without cell phones anyway.”

Mike rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Okay, boomer.”

“What was that, young man?”

“Okay, bummer.” Nancy bites on her bottom lip and Mike sends her a grin before settling in his seat.

Their mom reaches a hand back to rest on Mike’s knee. “It’s only 7 days, Michael. I’m sure both you and Will can last that long without contact.”

He told me he loves me, Mom, he wants to explain but Will’s words are too fresh and far too private to blurt out in front of the whole family. He crosses his arms silently and turns to stare out the window, hoping that Will can wait out these next few days and hoping he doesn’t think Mike hung up on him after such an important conversation. I love you, too, he thinks to himself, smiling as he presses his hand against the chilly window and imagines Will on the other side as if the car window is the window in Will’s room and Will’s inside watching Mike with that ever so lovestruck grin filled with appreciation that Mike came over despite the cold night to comfort Will from the nightmares that occasionally plague him to this day.

I love you, Will, he repeats inwardly, wait for me.

#byler #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #fluff #drabble #request finished #sidenote: i call the book 'the golden compass' because that's the title in the states!#on ao3

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until-we-fall-in-love · 5 years ago

Text

Into the Hush: Chapter One

Into the Hush Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader undertones

Summary: It's only ever been you and the rugged wilderness; both unkempt and undomesticated. Until it isn't anymore.

(1870s Cowboy AU. A/B/O AU. Gothic/horror.)

Warnings: Violence, gore, dark themes, A/B/O dynamics, smut in later chapters.

If you are under 18, you should not be reading this!

A/N: howdy ya’ll lol don’t know how i came up with this one but it’s an A/B/O cowboy historical gothic au. it’s gonna get dark! also gonna be a real nasty slow burn lmaooo so mind the warnings, if you don’t do well with gore or violence, perhaps this isn’t the fic for you. also if you don’t like the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, this isn’t for you, either, though i will be taking some liberties with this and trying to give my own take on it because there are aspects of it that i don’t like lol. im not quite sure how long this series will be, but i have plans for it. that being said, saddle up pardner lol and pls let me know what you thought of this first chapter!!!!

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Wyoming, 1872

The early morning air is crisp with new spring, cold and a little damp, dew glistening on the grass and glinting gold in the morning sun. Your breath still comes out in soft puffs that curl into the air as you step out onto your creaking, front porch. It overlooks the barren dirt road that leads up to your humble and charming farmhouse; weathered by time and storm and pleasantly cluttered with life and home at every turn. Off to the left is the freshly tilled ground that has been planted in; herbs and fruits and vegetables that will take over in the warm summer months. Trees have shaken the snow from them and have turned green and budding and new again.

You wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders, trying to gather more warmth from the worn cream, crochet wrap. You know once the sun rises higher into the afternoon, you’ll grow too warm for it, but now it’s needed. The wind curls around you, rustles your hair, lifts your skirts. It carries the promise of warmth, the reminder of winter.

All is peaceful in the morning, before the day has broken over the hills. All that sings is the birds, lovely and bright and flitting from tree to tree.

You lift your skirts, head over to the back porch, which wraps the entire way along your house. In the back is the barn, the pasture for the animals to graze when it’s warm. The creek towards the back, bubbling softly over the stones, crystal clear and cool. It’s perfect on a summer afternoon, but now would be too cold for you.

And you begin your day, head over to the shed where you ready the feed for the chickens, grab a basket for eggs. You enter the coop, greet the clucking hens with a coo, spreading food for them which they hurry to eagerly. As they eat, you gently reach for warm eggs in their nest, gather it into your basket and rush on to your other chores.

Milk the cows, get them fresh water, fresh hay and in the afternoon, you’ll let them out in the pasture to warm in the sun.

A few of them are round with calves, ready to give birth any day now.

You tend to the single horse, only one now after your father’s male passed away last spring. The one left is yours; a dappled, brown mare you’ve affectionately called Clover.

You’ll take her to town later, to sell extra eggs and milk, all the goods you can in exchange for bread or spices or money for the tax collector. By the time you’re finished with your chores, which is taking longer and longer as the farm extends and your father grows older and older, it’s around noon, the sun beginning to warm into pleasant rays of topaz and canary.

Your father sits on the porch, in his old rocking chair, smoking a pipe. His knee has been bad since this past fall, has a harder and harder time helping you. Not that you mind; this farm has practically become yours, but he hates leaving you to it all alone.

He’s been dying to set you up with an Alpha, find a good man to marry and help you with the farm. But none of the men from town pique your interest, few good Alphas in the small town of Longbrook, Wyoming. The train, not far from town, brings newcomers once and awhile, but it’s mostly quiet, tucked away in a valley, a river snaking its way through and out into the plains of wildflowers and fields.

You know Longbrook’s secrets, the quiet, beautiful places that you run to when you have the time. Spend your evenings lazing in columbine and aster flowers, beneath old, crooked trees near quiet, turquoise lakes. Or on a bluff, looking high above the world, cool wind in your face and the fluttering of birds nearer to you than planted on the grounds below.

You know where not to stray to, when the wilderness grows too rough and dangerous. Unrestrained in both it’s beauty and viciousness.

So independent that you can’t quite imagine your life beside another, especially not beside an Alpha, with their combative, controlling natures. You can’t imagine a husband that wouldn’t mind you taking off, disappearing into the wilderness and returning when you fancy; like some feral cat, your father always remarks gruffly.

He isn’t a fan of your disappearing acts, either. Alpha that he is, he’s kept careful and close watch on you since you discovered you were Omega, as irritating as it is. Controlling, but only because he means well. You manage to sate him by coming home before nightfall, when dusk is lavender and rose and the moon is only beginning to take the sun’s place. Besides, there’s not much he can do with his bad knee, can’t keep you cooped up the way he used to.

Ever since your mother had passed, you had to step up around the farm, grow up a little too quick. Responsible and resourceful, you work hard for you and your father. But your father has grown rather overprotective, wary with the Alphas he let come around; well respected in the town, no one has dared disobey him. A few had tried; Brock Rumlow, the tax collector, was the most notable of them. Pushy and irksome, he’d tried to convince you to disobey, sway you to sneak out with him or let him come by but you always turned your nose up at him.

You have no interest in someone so aggressive, so controlling.

You aren’t one to roll over or lower your eyes submissively; many Omegas aren’t, in your opinion, but it’s expected. There’s no time for that, though, not for you. No use or desire for it. You have a farm to take care of, to keep running smoothly. You have a life to live, adventures to have, open sky to chase.

And there’s certainly nothing and no one that’s going to stop you.

“Be careful goin’ into town,” Your father speaks up finally, smoke curling from his lips, voice rough and fogged, “Heard there was a few newcomers.”

Your father is always wary of newcomers, prefers to assess them himself, rather than hear from others.

“Yes, pa.” You respond, not particularly interested in them, nor sticking around for one of your father’s infamous lectures. You hurry on, grabbing all that you need, loading up Clover for the journey. You saddle her up, throw yourself over her with practiced ease, hitching your skirts up slightly and out of the way.

“Be home by nightfall!” Your father hollers after you, but you’re already easing Clover onto the dirt path.

“Of course!” You call back, just as you urge her into a faster pace, your voice carries on the wind, distant and as light as the new blossoms.

You push her into a gallop; not because there’s a rush, but because it’s fun. Because the wind is in your hair and the sun is warm on your shoulders and Clover thunders across the ground, kicking up dirt and making a mess.

You let a grin hitch onto the corner of your lips, lean forward, ease into the speed. The town is only a twenty minute ride, fifteen if you pushed, but you want to enjoy the ride. The landscape blurs past you in shades of olive and juniper, butter cream, robin’s egg blue. The pop of lily white, a sudden burst of dainty pink or blushing red. But it’s just you and the trees and the pounding of your heart along the beat of hooves against the solid ground.

Free and open and bursting, you race away from home eagerly and into the wilderness.

You end up slowing Clover halfway through your journey, appreciating the spring air, new and linen clean, shadowed patterns falling over you beneath the trees. The wind tickles your cheeks, the distant sound of the river can be heard when you listen carefully, a soft rush of water. It’s soothing, like the creek by your house, the sloshing lake you visit often. You let it carry you into town, peaceful, lazily letting Clover step onto more worn dirt roads.

Town people shout to you in greeting, wave as you pass by; you’re a familiar face to them. You give them smiles, holler back to some as you make your way to the grocers to sell your eggs and milk. You swing down from Clover, hopping easily onto your feet.

You end up walking out of the grocer’s with some extra money and a few cans of preserved vegetables and fruits. You buy some bread at the bakery, a pastry to split with Wanda, who you’re hoping can join you for the afternoon.

You catch sight of her outside the dress shop, peering at the finely made clothes through the window. She wears her own dress of dove grey, similar in fashion to yours rather than the ones she gazes at; your dresses are looser, easier to move and work and play in, aprons tied around your waists instead of the ruffles and frill of the dresses in the window. Her long curls cascade over her shoulders, near copper under the afternoon sun.

You call to her, watch as her features light up upon seeing you, before she picks her skirts up and bounds over to you. Her scent hits you; sweetly Omega, soft clary sage, warm rose, and damp patchouli. Mysterious and floral, she’s always been a little offbeat with her wide, wondering eyes that linger in darkness.

Some of the elders call her a witch, little demon child, with her Eastern European ties and mischievous curl of her lips. But to you she is only Wanda, your dearest.

Her fingers, nimble and quick, find yours, lock and lace together. “Hello, darling.” She says, pressing her lips to your cheek in greeting, her voice melodic and smooth; velvet dark and sweet twilight.

You let your cheek brush hers, lean into the touch eagerly, soft, rosy and warm skin against yours. “Hello, Wanda.”

She pulls back with a flutter of her lashes, wide eyes finding yours. There’s a familiar glimmer in them, which makes your heart leap amorously, excited and playful. “Are we going to sneak off to the meadow today, still?” She asks, dropping her voice to a hush and stepping nearer. Your hands tighten over hers as you draw closer, duck your head so you catch another breeze of her scent in her hair, the nape of her neck.

“Yes,” You reply, an eager smile pulling at your lips, “I bought us a pastry to split and a book to read.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” She nearly purrs, bouncing lightly on her toes in excitement. You’re about to pull her along, drag her towards Clover when someone clears their throat behind you.

You both turn, fingers still interwoven, pressed to one another’s sides. Her warmth is welcome and comforting, especially as you both find Rumlow gazing back at the pair of you with depthless, cold eyes. His face, so marred and twisted, gleams pink and shiny with scarred and new skin under the afternoon light. The rays of white gold sunlight do nothing to lighten his features, nor the darkness of his gaze.

It pierces deep into you, as if he wants to pry and prod and pick you cleanly apart. It’s the gaze of a conqueror, you think, the gaze of someone who wants something that can never be theirs. It’s a disturbing hunger, the kind that sends a deep chill down your spine.

Wanda squeezes your hand in comfort. So attuned to you, she perhaps can tell by body language or the dip in your scent that you’re frightened in some way, that Rumlow has caused you distress and he has yet to even open his jagged, scarred mouth.

“Lovely afternoon for you ladies.” He says very coldly, as if he is not in fact concerned with the weather nor you both.

“Yes, it is.” Wanda replies for you, a dark, protective little gleam in her eyes. You can smell the shift of scent with her light aggression, the flare of sage that burns and tickles your nose. It sharpens and spices, makes you blink with it.

“You’re both looking mighty fine, rich with spring. Omegas always were sweetest in spring. Isn’t that right?” He muses and it chills you to the bone, makes you press closer to Wanda’s side, as if you could fold into the safety of her body.

There is old folklore; spring being associated with Omegas. It’s all about fertility and the new life that blossoms in spring, old wives’ tales of Omegas getting their strongest heats in the spring after long, dormant winters. Perhaps there is some truth to it, biologically, because winter can get so harsh and so sparse with food if one isn’t careful. Bearing children in winter would never be easy, but it’s something you don’t wish to linger on, particularly not with the way Rumlow is eyeing you.

Like ripening fruit to be picked. A flower blooming, awaiting the moment to pluck it from the earth.

Wanda grows uncomfortable now, too, you can feel it in the bunching of her slim shoulders. But she steps in front of you purposefully, a show of challenge to Rumlow, one of protection for you.

“Isn’t that right, ladies?” Rumlow urges, taking a step forward and Wanda sharply takes a step back, forcing you back as well. You cling to the back of her skirts with tense, seeking fingers.

“I sure hope you’re not botherin’ these girls.” Another voice speaks up, authoritative and strong and sure. The kind of voice that gives commands, ones you think many eagerly would follow. Not unkind, but unwavering. When you both turn to the source, it’s a blond man, broad shouldered and wide and tall. He’s dressed simply, the top few buttons of his shirt popped open to reveal a muscled chest. Pretty, light blue eyes. He has an honest face, a strong jaw, trustworthy and noble.

His scent is distinctly Alpha, strong and commanding; cedar wood and leather. The soft notes of something gentler like cotton and the way your linen smells on a summer day fluttering in the breeze to be dry. It’s soothing, a deep comfort compared to the off-beat, metal tang and sour blood smell of Rumlow’s scent.

Which, has become bitter and salty with his anger and aggression for this newcomer.

“I wasn’t bothering them. Was I bothering you Omegas?” He asks sharply, prickling with agitation and it makes you grip Wanda’s skirts a little tighter. “And who are you, anyways?” He then almost growls, “Newcomer isn’t gonna tell me what to do.”

You can tell Rumlow’s itching to pick a fight by the tightening of his shoulders and baring of his teeth. The air becomes charged with scent, territorial and angry and pungent. Wanda’s is still spiced and agitated, too, with the threat of Rumlow. Your own is dipped into distress, irritation, and the newcomer’s becomes stronger, cedar wood sharp. Rooted in place, he cocks his head slightly, challenging.

“Why don’t you move along.” The newcomer says, and he’s not asking, he’s telling. It’s bold of him, with the way Rumlow’s face; twisted and angry, settles on him. No one challenges Rumlow in this town. He holds too much power, is too strong; both physically and socially. Even protected by the law by being a tax collector for Alexander Pierce.

Another man steps up behind the blond, eyeing Rumlow with particularly cold and dark eyes; midnight blue, the evening sky bleary with stars, depthless and all consuming. His hair is longer, brushing the tops of his shoulders, half pulled back from his strong face--

When your eyes settle upon his features for the first time, it feels as if you’ve been struck; a blow of lightning, the sudden shock of cold water, the gasp you take when you resurface. It’s damning, you think, as if you’ve seen him in your dreams or in hazy, unknown past lives. As if you’ve known him your whole life, somehow, as if you recognize him now and wonder how you ever could’ve forgotten him.

He looks like the tragic heroes you read about; the ones that rise only to fall, crumble down after being so noble and wide-eyed. He is breathtaking and standing tall and strong against Rumlow’s piercing gaze. There’s a warning in his eyes, a half-dare, begging Rumlow to try something and see what happens now. Where the blond is golden-hearted and bright-eyed, he seems darker, more eclipsed.

And surprisingly, it works, Rumlow eyes the pair of them, weighs his options, and then promptly steps down. He mutters something about leaving, about how this isn’t the end. But you can’t help the quirk of a smile, the hint of cruel amusement you get from watching him ease away. Slink off back into the hustle of town.

Wanda smiles wider than you, sharper, a little more mischievous, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rumlow cower like that.” She says and turns towards the newcomers with a radiance that is hard to match.

And the blond smiles, easy and gentle, “Glad we could help.” And then with deep courtesy, “Steve Rogers, by the way.”

“Wanda Maximoff.” She pulls you back up to her side once more, offers your name to them, too.

Steve claps the other man on the shoulder, an ease is shared between them that is not unsimilar to you and Wanda. Steve adds, “James Buchanan. But we just call him Bucky.”

And Bucky nods, his eyes finally sliding over to you; his scent hits you at nearly the same time. Offbeat and pine, the sharp, cold smell of metal. There’s evergreen and winter, maybe the soft spice of juniper, the low cut of musk. It makes your eyes flutter, makes your head go soft and bleary with it.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Wanda says and her voice refocuses you, her fingers skimming yours to ground you. You flit your eyes away, but can feel Bucky’s suddenly sink over you the way the red sun will drop below the hills.

You become keenly aware of your bare neck, hair pulled from your face and shoulders to reveal it to him. The cut of your dress suddenly seems both revealing and not revealing enough. Like it could constrict you, or maybe you’re showing too much skin.

“What brings you here?” You ask, perhaps a little cooly, eyes seeking out the horizon rather than them. Anything but him.

“Passing through. Looking for work for a few weeks.” Steve answers politely and his eyes glitter like the creek in the high summer. He’s pretty, you think, long lashes framing those eyes.

“Oh!” Wanda exclaims and she loops her arm through yours solidly, her body warm and soft beside you, “You’re in luck! She needs help running her farm!”

You almost choke. Throw Wanda a glare but she only meets you with that impish, precious smile you can’t stay mad at for very long.

“I don’t--” You try to protest.

“She does!” Wanda interjects, “Her father injured his knee awhile ago, been looking for someone to help out.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then perhaps Buck and I will have to stop by.” Steve says easily, a half amused grin tugging at his lips as he gazes between you and Wanda. Almost as if he’s endeared by your antics. You bristle.

“My father doesn’t take to newcomers very well.” You warn, as if that’ll scare these two Alphas away so easily after their little stunt with Rumlow. You worry that few things will scare these two off.

Regardless you don’t need them on your farm, don’t need them trying to help or care for you or order you around. It’s always been you, and no one will change that. You’re not about to let them treat you like some soft, little creature who should be inside baking them pies and fetching them water.

But you can feel Bucky’s eyes on your face still, as if he’s trying to burrow in there, make a home upon which he gazes.

You grow even tenser, teeth grinding. No home to find inside you; just the unruliness of nature, the ever-changing seasons, or unforgivable storms. The river that churns too fast, dives between the mountains and the forests, the sly, sharp-toothed fox.

You turn your nose up, “Besides,” You say, insolent and dry, “I don’t really need any help.”

“‘Course.” Steve agrees and you aren’t sure if it’s to placate you or if he’s genuine, “But if you’re looking for an extra pair of hands to order around, we’re your guys.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You say, though decidedly won’t.

Daring yourself, you finally force your eyes to Bucky once more. His face is stern and closed off, reserved. He hasn’t spoken once, and stupidly, horribly, you long to hear his voice. You wonder what it sounds like, if it’s rough or smooth or everything at once. Does he speak loudly or softly? Will you have to lean in to hear him or will you step back at the crack of it?

And yet, he hasn’t needed it once yet. His presence, formidable and strong and raw, is enough.

You blink, look away just as he glances back at you. This strange game of cat and mouse with eyes is making your fingers twitch and tighten in your skirts.

“We should be off,” You tell Wanda, wishing to flee, to feel the wind on your face and Wanda’s body beside yours and the afternoon sun bursting on your skin.

Steve wishes the pair of you well, gentlemanly and sweet. Tips his hat with a boyish sort of grin that perhaps would leave other’s swooning.

And Bucky, gruffly, and with a sort of gentleness you aren’t expecting to find, says to you, “It was nice meeting you both.”

Something warm settles into your chest, sliding down like molasses, dripping into your stomach and core, spreading throughout you like it owns you; settles deep into you like it won’t leave, real deep into the marrow of your bones. And you inhale, breathe as if this is your first real breath in the whole of your life.

You find yourself replying, almost as softly, “It was nice to meet you, too.”

His lips twitch upwards in the barest hint of a smile, as if it’s the first time he’s smiled in a long, long time and he needs you to show him how again.

So you do, you give him your own smile that isn’t much bigger, but it’s much easier and sweet as honey, clever as a fox. Almost like you want him to chase you, follow that curve of your lips.

Wanda giggles, before pulling you away and back towards Clover to begin your adventure for the day, but you think you can feel the dark of his eyes on the back of your neck still, the line of your shoulders. It lingers, until you ride off into the heather hills with her and disappear on the gauzy horizon.

---

Wanda and you roll in the wild grass on the sloping hills. Laughing and chasing and playing like you’re girls again, half-savage and free and untempered. You tumble and shriek and hitch up your skirts, loosen your dresses and unbutton collars. The sun is a gold glow, warming the earth and your skin, shimmering dreamlike on the new green buds, the wheat yellow of the tall grass. You tip your face up to the sky eagerly, just as you let yourself flop back into the field, back hitting the ground that catches your fall, cradles you. Clouds pass overhead in cotton shapes, free and darling, and you’re still breathing a little hard from romping around with Wanda, feeling your heartbeat inside the cage of your chest. You feel flushed with life; ferocious and curious and excited.

Wanda drops down by your feet, before slowly, languidly crawling atop you. She straddles your waist, her skirts spilling out over the two of you. You sit up on your elbows, jostle and try to dislodge her a little with another round with warm laughter, but she holds fast, nails digging into your shoulders.

“I saw the way you were looking at Bucky.” She says and there’s too much mischief in her eyes, a clever glint that the sun turns amber and honey hazel.

You roll your eyes at her, but even the mention of his name on her lips makes something inside of you stir. But you indulge her, leveling her with an unamused gaze, “And how was that, Wanda?”

She leans over you, her fiery hair brushing your cheek, your shoulders. She fits herself closer, twines her arms around you all close and snug.

“Like you wanted to bare your throat to him right then and there.” She teases playfully, voice dipping into a warm, rumbling purr. Her nose drops, nuzzles lightly at the sensitive scent gland at your neck. It makes you squirm, your fingers tightening in the skirts of her dress.

You allow her so close, allow lips and teeth and nose into the dips of your body because she’s so familiar to you. A piece of your heart is firmly in her small, warm hands. It blurs the thin, unsteady line between you two, though. Scenting at the neck is usually romantic in some way; often times sexual. Comforting, when it needs to be, but you’ve laid so many times with Wanda, gotten so close and tangled together that you often find your nose at her throat, the nape of her neck, tucking your face into the crooks of her body and she to you. You know her like a lover, you think, sink into her body beneath the sun and the moon and the open skies that spread out before you both. As if the whole world opens for you two.

“Your scent got sweeter; milky lavender and dark jasmine.” Her lashes tickle your collar bones, her mouth warm and open against the skin there. It makes you flush deeply, sink into the earth beneath you, “Want him to bite you?” She jibes, flashes pearly teeth, her canine gleaming in that white sun.

“Wanda!” You yelp, shoving at her and she throws her head back and laughs, “No!” And you begin to wrestle with her once more, pushing her off and sending you both tumbling down another hill. You shriek and peel with laughter, pulling and grabbing at each other until you roll apart.

She gets on her hands and knees, feigns a growl from an Alpha in her throat, the kind that rumbles out from deep within them, but the sound is a little muted, and too light in her mouth. She suddenly pounces for you again, playful and light, sending you belly up and onto your back, though. “You want him to tackle you like this,” She torments, grabbing at your wrists as you try and squirm and fight with her.

With a grunt and all your strength, you roll her right onto her back now, hook your legs over her hips like she did.

“You want to simper and cry under him,” She says and this time her voice gets soft and breathy and pouty and she is good at that. Her back arches beneath you and you push at her more, tighten your hands around her wrists, shove them down to the ground, feel her heaving chest and trace the curve of her smiling lips and rose touched cheeks with eager eyes.

“I don’t!” You laugh, playfully bare your teeth at her and try and growl back the way she had. It’s better than hers, a little more bite to it, but it’s still too light and soft. She laughs with you at your attempt now, laughs and growls and yells with you until you’re both breathless because there is nothing and no one around to hear you but each other.

You howl and chase and fall into each other with giggles and wildflowers in your hair, get lost in her and the way the sun begins to fall from the sky and cast everything in a rosewood haze, slow and burning and beautiful.

She lays her cheek on your back when you ride Clover back to her home, and she kisses you goodnight, lips at the corner of yours. Promises to see you tomorrow.

And then you ride home, race fast and hard before the sun is swallowed by the moon, before the stars blink into existence and your father scolds you to all hell and back.

------------------

Home seems eerie with the darkness that creeps around its edges, night drawing out all the creeks and aches and splinters in the old house. All the memories pushed towards the back of your mind rush forward like skittering spiders. The last sliver of light sits on the horizon, fighting, railing against that inky sky as you get home.

And when you rush through the front door, shouting, “Pa, I’m home before the sun’s set!” You aren’t expecting to nearly run right into the broad chest of Steve Rogers.

You blink hard and he steadies you with a hushed, “Easy,” And his big hands on your shoulders.

You look up at him in disbelief, brows furrowing, quickly lurching away from him, only to realize Bucky stands to his right.

“What--” You start to snap, and this time your teeth are baring with aggression and irritation, gone is the lightness and playfulness you had with Wanda. Your eyes flash with the last cut of light that slashes through the old windows of your house.

“There’s my feral cat of a daughter, fellas.” Your father says and your head whirls to him.

He begins to introduce the three of you again, but you cut him off, “I met ‘em today, Pa.”

“Oh, good.” He says dryly, unappreciative of your tone. You force back a wince, know you’ll get scolded for that one. “They’ll be helping you out on the farm for a few weeks.”

You whip back to face Steve and Bucky, narrow your eyes at them, “Thought I told you both I don’t need any help?” You snap, unruly, wildflowers still caught in your hair that now slips free of what it’d been pulled back in earlier. You’re sure you look half-wild.

Steve holds up his hands as if he means no harm, palms up to you and you see they’re rough and calloused and scarred. Used, working hands. Hands that have seen a lot. You glance at Bucky, notice that one of his hands is gloved, the other free. You try not to stare, flit your eyes back to Steve.

“In our defense, we didn’t know this was your farm. We were sent this way after inquiring in town for work.” Steve says calmly, and then puts his hand over his heart, “Honest.”

You scoff lightly, turn back to your father, “I don’t need them, Pa.”

“No,” He agrees and pride swells in you, a small bubble of it for a heartbeat, “But they’d be a great help to you.”

There’s no amount of arguing or protesting that’s gonna change your father’s mind once it’s been set. He seems settled on this, content and confident. You try not to pout, try not to stamp your feet or snap or glare them right out of your house.

Final discussions are had; pay and what times they’ll arrive and leave. Your father, thankfully, warns them to listen to you, and if he finds differently, they’ll be kicked to the dirt as quickly as they’d gotten the job.

And then he warns them, quite frankly, to mind themselves around you and you can feel your cheeks deepen into crimson. Bucky and Steve dip their heads, though, say obedient and firm, yes sir’s, as if they expected it.

Your father finishes with, “Alright, then. You two start tomorrow.” And then he looks to you, “Walk them out, will you?”

You huff, but do so, walk them to the porch where the crickets and frogs have begun to chirp and croak and sing. The night crawls onward, the wind rattles this old house. A chill overcomes you, a little shudder. You think you can hear the far-off sound of baying coyotes, erie and high pitched in their frenzied yelping.

“Suppose I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning, then.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Suppose so.” Steve says, lowers his eyes a little, “I did mean it, we didn’t know this was your farm.”

You eye him, “Nothin’ I can do about it now, is there?” You counter, unwilling to give an inch, no matter how sweetly he looks at you with those darling, blue eyes. You’re sure that boyish charm works everywhere else, but you refuse to let it here.

He has the good sense to dip his head submissively, nodding slightly, “We’ll get out of your hair for the night then, let you rest. Goodnight, ma’am.” He says respectfully, before easing down off the old wood that protests beneath his heavy steps.

And for a heartbeat, it is only you and Bucky and the rattling tree branches and the croaking night. A moment frozen, as if you’d captured it in a bottle like a letter that you’ll throw into the sea. Just this sliver of time that makes the whole world stand still, as if it’s been waiting or fearing for your coming together.

You have nothing to say, but he inclines his head, holds your eyes like he’s holding the world in his arms, and murmurs all low and rumbling, “Goodnight, miss.”

Then turns his back on you, and hustles over to Steve, to their tethered horses.

And this time it’s you that watches him, eyes glued to his muscled back, the nape of his neck, as he eventually is swarmed by the darkened, reaching horizon.

---

You fall into bed, feeling strange and wary, a little weary, perhaps a little hopeful, too. For what, you don’t know. You can feel the wind changing, coming with new spring. But there’s something else, something heavier; the pressure is building, as if there’s a storm brewing. The kind of spring storm that bring destruction and clamor and the kind of rain that threatens to sweep you away in their flood and ferocity.

Your bed creeks, the shadows are tall and reaching in your room. The moon spills in, but instead of painting you with wonder or lovely, pearl light, it only makes the shadows that much darker. The night brings the cold, makes you pull tight and inwards. You curl up beneath your quilt, try and ward off all that presses in.

Eventually, you sleep.

And you dream.

You dream in visions of phantom grey and oil slick black, syrupy red, and flesh pink. You step lightly in a graveyard, the earth freshly turned and dark. Stones jut out from the ground like jagged, crooked teeth. It swallows you whole. The fog is thick and evasive, surrounding you and gathering around you, a train to your skirts that murmur and brush against stones and dirt and the hollowed out ground.

A grave with your father’s name grows from the earth, forces you to stop, stutter backwards. Your teeth begin chattering, the clanking of bone against bone. You can feel the whispers of wind, something so near. Your heart plummets as you read his name, as you see his grave, which you now see is besides your mother’s.

The ground trembles.

Their graves crack, splinter like a dropped glass, bursting outwards in a wave of skittering, flaming stone.

Frantically, you drop to your knees, try to put them all back together, as if that will somehow help. As if that will fix anything. You curse and cry and there are tears-- there are tears that drop onto burning stone. It sizzles and smokes but you can’t put them back together. You are alone, and you can’t.

Your hands begin to burn, flesh pink and blister white. Mud sucks at your legs and your knees and then you are sinking, sinking, sinking--

Oil drowns you, forces its way down your mouth and your throat and clogs your lungs. Seeps into every part of you. It’s invasive, forceful in it’s push and pull of you, it sucks at you and you are forced downward, kicking and screaming. Forced to swallow and take and be filled.

You twist, frantic. Try to fight back, but you are caught in the thick of it. It devours your screams and cries and pain.

And from above, there is a cut of silver, a star in the inky sky. A hand; metal and unnatural plunges in for you. And he pulls you clear out of the muck, the earth’s blood and into his arms.

When you emerge, it is as if you’re cleansed by the light. Gone is the slick oil, gone is the choking and drowning and thrashing. Bucky holds you to him now, crushes you to his chest where you can hear the live, thundering beat of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” He murmurs, cradling your skull as if it’s precious, something to be protected. Your nose is pushed to his neck and you--

You cling to him, swallow down clean gulps of spring air and the juniper bright and metal sharp smell of him. Pine, there is pine and evergreen, too. Clean and fresh and dipping into musk. Your heart slows, lulls, with his voice in your ear; that voice you’d so desperately wanted to hear.

You feel as if you’ve heard it your whole life now, as if you can’t imagine going another day without hearing it. And he says your name, not Omega, just your name. And he breathes and is warm and alive beneath you.

When you look around now, the earth is fertile and bright and warm. Spring damp roses and sweet, honeycomb sunshine. The fauna is in full bloom, an overabundance of life that leaves you inhaling the fragrant air. It’s so thick, almost cloying.

And there is no breeze, you think.

And Bucky’s lips are at your neck.

And there is a stirring in your stomach but its--

It’s all wrong.

He tries to lay you down. And you don’t protest because there’s something so tempting about it all, so safe, or so instinctual. There’s an ache and a burn and you want to shed your skin, you want to let him in and never let him out, bury his body in the ground with you. Become the earth and fertilize the flowers and feed the foxes you love so much. You wanna lie with him until the crow calls, until you’re nothing but him and you and the gem stones deep in the ground.

But when his face lifts from your vulnerable neck, it is not him.

Rumlow stares down at you, his scarred face so close and imploring. He croons Omega and you shriek, you try to get away, but it’s like the oil all over again; you trapped and thrashing and stuck. Rabbit in a snare. Fox in a trap. You scream, scream for Bucky or Wanda or even Steve or your father. You scream until it tapers off and burns into something ragged, shredding your voice.

He is just heavy atop you, and his face is morphing and shifting, like he’s a new creature altogether. Blackened eyes that are too wide, too large and there is a gaping whole where his mouth should be--

You claw at him, scratch with nails, pull at pink flesh and cartilage and bone until he starts dripping blood and saliva, growling like a rabid dog. You twist his face away so sharply, so horribly, that there is a sickening crack and then the full of him collapses atop you.

You squirm and you are crying, choked sobs because it feels like you are burning, or aching. Lonesome and longing or horrified and fearful of everyone. You want to be held in equal measures that you want to run away and never see another face again. You are torn, split in two and unraveling.

When you scramble away, deeper into the fragrant wild grass. You realize there is wetness, slick and warm and--

There is blood. So much blood coating your legs and it seeps through your skirts, stemming from between your legs. It pools beneath you, waters the flowers and seeps into the earth as if it belongs there.

You howl like an animal, fingers squabbling in the dirt and the blood and your body as if you can put yourself back together again--

You wake with a hard, sucking gasp. Blinking hard in the darkness. Your hands pull at your nightgown, shift to feel your skin, still warm and dry and clean beneath your heavy quilt. Reassuring, gulping breaths bring back cool air into your lungs. I’m safe, you tell yourself, it was just a dream.

But the night is still dark and the bed still creaks and the wind still howls, almost the way you had when you’d found all that blood-- No.

But now you’re just awake, in a lonely room. And there is no comfort, no warmth or forgiveness in the hollowness of it all.

You rise in the morning, heavy bags beneath your eyes, and begin your day in hopes of a better one.

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