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ofthehands · 10 months ago

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The Swing

A short fic about the swing made of railroad ties in the Sawyer's yard. ~3,300 words. Warnings for general Sawyer-isms/ some implied child abuse. It's a little sad, but not too heavy.

It was a hot summer morning. Jedidiah sat outside, with his eyes closed tight, and his hand over his wife’s. It was so hot outside her skin felt warm, and he could almost convince himself she was still alive. Jedidiah had no intention of moving, of ruining the moment he had with his Edith. Until he felt a soft tug at his shirt sleeve. He opened his eyes slowly, and looked down at his youngest grandson.

The little one was his favorite from the moment he was born. His oldest grandson was too much like him- in the face, in his heart, and in his heavy hands. When Jedidiah looked at Drayton, he could only see his mistakes. The middle boys- the twins- he was a little more fond of. There was novelty in having twins in the family again, his aunts were twins. But those boys were near rabid, and had the thinner, more weaslish features of their father. The twitchier of the two- either Nubbins or Bobby, Jedidiah honestly couldn’t remember- tried to get in his good graces, and would sometimes lay against his leg, calm-like and just talk to him. But the pair quickly fell into wrestling with each other again, and harassing their brothers. It was just their nature, like an old barn cat they would always be a little wild. Junior was special. He had a softer voice, and he was as kind hearted as it was possible for a Sawyer to be. And he had Edith’s eyes. There was something about that- something that got to Jedidiah’s cold old heart. Even though Edith was dead, gone for a long time, their love still persisted, still existed in the world in Junior’s face, and gentle hands, and the way he sang and hummed softly to himself. He was a special boy. Jedidiah loved him more than anything.

Which was why, when the boy came to him with a problem of any sort, he did his absolute best to fix it. Junior made those soft noises he did, and whimpered, and held something out to Jedidiah. Jedidiah had to pull it close to his face to see it. His vision was going. At his age, everything was going.

It was a broken chain link, and little Junior kept pointing at it, and babbling, and pointing to something else, something further. Jedidiah stood, slow and unsteady, and Junior grabbed his arm, supporting him gently.

“Show me.”

It was the swing. The Sawyers had an old white bench swing. The paint had chipped over the years, and it was rickety as all hell. And apparently, when little Junior sat on it, it broke. Well, Junior wasn’t exactly little. He had always been a big boy, with big hands and feet. Jedidiah figured he would end up the tallest of the brothers, though he didn’t tell that to the twins, who were constantly trying to one up each other, and teasing their older brother with threats of catching up to him soon. Regardless, Junior was a big boy, and it was an old swing. Jedidiah would have to get creative if he wanted to keep it from breaking on him again. The world would keep spinning ‘round, with or without Jedidiah in it, and he wanted to make sure the swing stayed up for his grandson year after year.

“Don’t worry, Junior,” he said, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears. “Grandpa’ll fix it up.”

It was the biggest project he had taken on in years. But it felt good. He used to take on things like that all the time- fixing stuff up around the house, and working on furniture, and when they came out, working on cars. But, his hands got shakier, his mind fuzzier, and his body weaker, so his projects had slowed down. It felt good to be doing it again, to be working with his hands and with his body. He had fixed the chain first, reconnecting it where it had broken in the middle with the piece of chain Junior had handed him and a pair of pliers. Junior sat at his side, clapping his hands and chattering occasionally, and watching with rapt attention. Jedidiah looked around at the surrounding trees, but they were all either too high up or too thin to support Junior’s weight long term, especially if he got as big as Jedidiah thought he would. So he started to scrounge around the property, looking for something sturdy enough, with little Junior helping to hold him up.

It got to noon, or some time close to it, and he had still found nothing. He knew it was around noon, because the twins ran out of the house like someone had lit a fire under their asses so they could harass their eldest brother as he pulled up in the driveway. All that had happened was Drayton had come home from the gas station for lunch before he went back out, but for the twins it was one of the most exciting happenings of the day. Or, at least any day they didn’t catch some poor animal and drag it back into the house to play with.

“Drayton! Drayton!” yelled the more talkative one. Jedidiah couldn’t honestly tell the twins apart, especially not that far away. The talkative one- Nubbins? Bobby? Jed was pretty sure it was Bobby- lunged at his brother the moment he got out of the car, throwing his whole body at him. The boy was only 12, and Drayton caught him, lifting him off the ground, to his great amusement. The quieter, twitchier one snuck up on him, then jumped at his back, trying to scale him like a squirrel running up a tree.

“Wh- Goddamn- Nubbins- quit that!” Drayton yelped, tossing the brother in his hands back to the ground, where he started rolling in the dirt, laughing, as his older brother tried to grab Nubbins off his back. Nubbins tried his best to claw and bite his brother like a wild animal, which Bobby seemed to find hilarious, especially as it further pissed off Drayton. Nubbins didn’t break skin when he bit family members, usually, but it was still the kind of foolishness that made Jedidiah a little less fond of the twins. Junior was a good boy, rarely if ever up to foolishness, and whose occasional foolishness was usually related to the schemes of the twins. Drayton managed to dislodge Nubbins, and toss him at his other brother. It seemed to knock the wind out of them, but the boys were up and laughing and trying to roughhouse in a heartbeat, so Jedidiah didn’t worry.

Those boys were as tough as they come- they probably wouldn’t have a mark on them, and it certainly didn’t ruin their mood. Junior was soft, emotionally- roughhousing too much with him upset him. And Drayton, when he was as young as they were, was a bit soft physically. He didn’t have any playmates, not really, but Jedidiah remembered how the boy had developed a habit of wearing long sleeve shirts in 100 degree heat, shamefully trying to hide handprints bruised onto fragile skin. Jedidiah always thought he might be soft with the boys, and honestly he was softer with his brothers than their father had been with him, but he had a temper that got the better of him at the worst of times. But, the boys had learned that quickly, about their big brother, and they were good at understanding when he was playing with them, and when to scurry like rats, into corners of the house they thought he might not find them in.

It was good they had a strong man’s presence in the house. Jedidiah had his suspicions about Drayton, and he would put money on his grandson’s status as a confirmed bachelor, but it hadn’t held him back from being a solid male presence in his younger brother’s lives. Which, with their father gone and Jedidiah’s health failing, they would need. Jedidiah worried only about the lack of a woman in the house, but there was nothing really could be done about that. Drayton wouldn’t bring home a wife, and Jedidiah was happy with Edith- he had one true love and a wonderful life with her. He didn’t want more. So the boys would have to make do being raised by their Grandpa and their brother. Jedidiah was confident his boys would turn out fine. He just hoped he was around to see it.

By the time Jedidiah was done thinking about all that, he and Junior had almost walked all the way to the front door. He used to be quicker. He had been a strong man, and a fast one too. When the old sheriff had come by their house yappin’ about a serial killer Jedidiah had run him down like a dog and beat him to death in one clean hit with the sledge. Nowadays, though, just walking down to the mailbox was an all day trip. He sighed a little, and Junior noticed, looking up at him, and slowing down a little. He made a soft noise, questioning, probably asking if Jedidiah was alright.

“Grandpa’s fine, boy. Just thinkin’ is all.” He wished Junior would talk, the boy was at least seven years old now and he should have been talking a long time ago, but that just never happened. Jedidiah had gotten comfortable with the idea that he probably wasn’t going to. That was alright. He loved Junior regardless, and he knew, even if he never said the words, that his boy loved him too.

He needed to get his boy’s swing fixed.

“Oh, Grandpa, you’re uh- lookin’ bright eyed and bushy tailed today! You uh- you want some lunch? I- I got some fresh sausages today, cooked ‘em myself down at the gas station-” Drayton came up to them, rambling as usual.

“Boy, I need you to do somethin’ for me,” Jedidiah said, putting a hand on his arm. Drayton’s eyes lit up. He liked to feel useful. “You know those railroad ties, them big logs those fellers that own that roofin’ business got?”

“Oh, yeah- I- I seen those-”

“I need you to steal me some. Three, maybe four. Can you do that for me?” It wouldn’t be easy, for damn sure.

“Uh.. Yeah- I’m- I’ll figure it out.”

Jedidiah had to admit he was a little surprised when Drayton actually managed it. Drayton got home in the evening, a little earlier than expected, and brought the railroad ties with him. Drayton and the twins helped to unload them. Then Jedidiah got to work. He managed most of it on his own, with Junior or the twins occasionally coming out to watch him work on it, or to ‘help’. But, eventually, it got a little too hard to finish on his own. Jedidiah had worn himself out with the measurements, and the construction of the damn thing. He had built it laying down- that was the only way he could build it- and he still needed to get the back legs on the thing, which was going to be a bitch, and then tilt it all back up. He didn’t have the strength to do it, and even though Junior was a big boy, he doubted the two of them could get it done alone.

“Junior, get your brothers,” Jedidiah said. “All of ‘em.”

The boys didn’t question what Jedidiah told them, at least not too much. Drayton and the twins held up one of the back legs of the thing, while Jedidiah attached it. His hands were getting shaky, and weak, and he wasn’t sure how much more of this his old body could take. Junior sat in rapt attention, watching as he attached the first one.

“I want all you little’uns outta the way now- we gonna see if it can hold itself up.” The younger boys cleared, the less coordinated twin tripping over his feet, and being pulled up by the talkative one. Drayton was the only thing holding up the leg now. He was a grown man, but not an impressively strong man, but he wasn’t struggling. That was a good sign. It was probably holding its own weight. Which needed to happen- Jedidiah might not be able to attach the other leg if this one failed- he just didn’t have that kind of energy. “Alright. That looks good. Get on out of the way, boy.” Drayton moved, and let it hang. The leg stayed up on its own, and Jedidiah grinned. The swing wasn’t the most elegant thing he had ever built, but it was working. They just had to get the last leg on, and then tip it up, and it would be a job well done.

“G-Grandpa, I-I’m gettin’ tired,” the twitchy twin said.

“It won’t be much longer, hold still, damnit!” Jedidiah snapped. That was probably a lie. His hands wouldn’t cooperate any more, he could barely hold the tools he was working with, much less use them. Junior made a soft noise, and he looked up, still glaring a little. Junior held out his hand. And Jedidiah relented.

He guided Junior, step by step, through putting the last leg of the swing on. Sometimes, he had to lay his hands over Junior’s and show him how to do it physically, but the boy was catching on fast. Jedidiah hated losing control, hated the feeling of his body breaking down. But in that little moment everything felt alright.

It was more permanent. One day he wasn’t going to be there. He would be dead, though likely never gone, out on the porch next to Edith, preserved, but not present. But Junior would still have his swing. And come what may- stormy weather or the inevitable grip of time- Junior would know how to fix it. Jedidiah knew he wasn’t long for this world. But he also knew his boys were going to be alright.

They got the last leg attached, and the twins cheered and ran off before he told them to. Fortunately for Drayton, who was still under the damn thing, it was attached well.

“Boys, get back over here!” Jedidiah tried to yell. His voice didn’t carry enough and the two of them kept springing around the yard. “I thought them little shits was tired,” he huffed.

“Nubbins! Bobby! Get your asses over here!” Drayton yelled. The boys listened, unenthusiastically, but they listened.

“B-but we finished it!” said the smaller one.

“We finished it, we finished it!” the talkative one repeated, jumping up and down.

“Yeah,” Jedidiah said. “And now we gotta tip it upright.”

It took all the Sawyers to lift the damn thing, but when it went up, it flew back quick, landing on all fours with a slight bounce that sent the swing itself flying wildly. The younger boys thought that was funny, laughing and cheering and clapping their hands. And Jedidiah felt proud. Until the damn swing hit the frame and all the remaining white paint popped off like some kind of gag. Then he was mad as hell.

“Damn it all!” he snapped. He would have stormed off if he had the energy, but he didn’t, so he just stood there sullenly, shaking his head. That swing had been white the whole time they had it- since before any of the little ones were born, before Drayton was born, before Edith-

“W-wait Grandpa, we- we still got some ol’ white paint out in the shed. We could let the boys paint it up nice, and then have dinner, and then it’ll prob’ly be dry,” Drayton said. “Good as new!” It certainly wouldn’t be good as new. But Jedidiah figured it was better than nothing.

The boys got a kick out of painting the old swing. Drayton fetched Jedidiah a chair, and let him sit out there and watch them while he made dinner. Junior did it nicely, trying to have some artistry to it. The twitchier twin- Nubbins, Jedidiah was half-sure that was Nubbins- tried to do something similar for a while, before his counterpart spattered him with paint on purpose. Then the pair quickly turned to playing with it, painting each other more than the bench.

“Boys- quit waistin’ that paint. You know how hard that’ll be to get out of your clothes? Your brother’s gonna have a fit when he sees that.” The boys only sort of listened to their Grandpa, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad at them.

The bench got painted, and he was shocked it turned out as well as it did. They went in for dinner, and the twins told everyone about their day, and the hornytoads they had been terrorizing. It was nice. The boys only got along so often, for so long, but it had been a good day. For once, just for a little while, there was peace. Jedidiah wished there had been more of that. He wished, for just a second, that they didn’t live like they did, that he could pretend the boys had some shot, that they could have good lives, that anything could live in this house, and live well. But he was suddenly overwhelmed with dread. His boys had been shot in the foot at the start of the race. There was nothing they could do, no one in their corner. Except for each other. God, he hoped they remembered to be good to each other.

Jedidiah did his best to hide all that worry- and to chase the dread away. His boys would be fine. Outsiders would hate them sure, but they didn’t need outsiders. They would be fine by themselves.

After dinner, the family made their way back outside. Drayton touched the bench a few times, and said it was dry, but as Jedidiah sat down it still felt a little sticky. He would have been mad about that, when he was a younger man. But it was a good day. He just sort of chuckled. Junior sat down on the bench with him, starting to swing them both back and forth. Jedidiah was bone tired, nearly asleep right there. Night time had come over them. The stars were out, and bright, and too many to count. He looked out at the field. Drayton was playing with the twins. Jedidiah had seen it happen a thousand times, so he was certain the boys had teased and annoyed him till he got up and chased them around a little, which devolved into a game of tag when they outran him long enough for him to cool down. Well, it was something like tag. Drayton was chasing the boys around, occasionally picking one of them up and spinning him or tipping him upside down, much to the twins’ great amusement. It was nice. Jedidiah rested his eyes for just a minute. He could hear them, still, the boys laughing and squealing as they were caught, and the soft song of crickets. Junior was humming something he couldn't quite recognize. He held his hand out and the boy caught it. He rubbed circles on the top of his little hand, and tried to commit that night to memory. There had been bad times. So many bad times. But there was good. His little family had nothing else. But they had each other. And in that moment, Jedidiah felt like it might be enough. He didn’t mean to, but he drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t even thought he could fall asleep on that swing, didn’t realize it till he woke up inside, in his chair, next to Edith. He could hear laughter from the other room. Trying to be quiet, but filled with just a little too much joy. He didn’t mind being woken up at all. He smiled a little, and took Edith’s hand.

“We done good,” he told her softly. “In spite of everythin’... It turned out alright.”

Grandpa didn’t stand again. Drayton said the day he fixed the swing must have been one last ‘hoo-rah’ from his body before it gave out. That made sense to Bubba. He could rarely remember Grandpa standing as long as he did that day, even with the help of one of his grandsons.

The years went on, and the old swing remained. It was impressively sturdy, Bubba could sit in it with the twins sometimes. But, most often, it was just him and Grandpa. When he could, when his chores were done or if Drayton and the twins kept fighting too loud, Bubba would take Grandpa outside, and sit him down in the chair, and just swing with him. Bubba never knew why Grandpa liked that swing so much that he spent his last big push of energy on fixing it, but Bubba enjoyed it too. And, more importantly, he liked spending time with his Grandpa.

#tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm fanfic #grandpa sawyer #bubba sawyer #other sawyer brothers are present but not enough to warrant the tag i feel #kept thinking about that line in Chain Saw Confidential too much and now we're here #Im firmly of the belief either Bubba or Nubbins is grandpa's favorite #it sure aint drayton lol #thinking of making a little series of fics like this- moments in the sawyers lives where things are just sort of calm #with undertones of what's to come

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josendlessmonolouge · 3 months ago

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my oc intro except I’m super tired so they’re incoherent.

Johnny manygoats

born: 1950

job: odd jobs, mostly does rodeo gigs and works his sheep

physical description bc I’m too lazy to draw him: big ass dude like 6’5 and he wears riding boots so it’s scary. He’s got Hooded Big brown baby cow eye and a broad face. Really warm undertone skin idk how to describe it other than like you would use burnt umber paint when mixing it. Very tan bc he constantly claims that bc he’s native he won’t get burnt “I’m dark already I can’t burn” (he can) when before the war he had really long (mid back length) hair but when he enlisted he cut it to military standard. The story has important parts pre war and post so it’s anywhere between long and kinda shaggy when he first started growing it back out. He doesn’t wear any pants other than wranglers. He wears either a western shirt or a really ratty redbone T-shirt that Sara hates but he will wear it until it’s shredded. He has basically two expressions; 1) I’m going to kill myself, you or punch a wall or all of the above and 2) beautiful dimpled ear to ear smile with squinty eyes and crooked teeth, that is pretty well reserved for his niece and nephew or his animals.

likes: summer treats. Like idk he just would live off watermelon and icecream if he could. He was eating frozen grapes way before y’all were. His niece and nephew, his older brother, Michael. the rodeo. reading western novels when he doesn’t have a headache. His horse. His wife, Sara. Marty robbins, Johnny cash, and hank Williams. (so jo core) Throwing shot-put. Marlboro reds. Black coffee. His dog. Sitting on his porch at night. Working on his family’s ranch. =. horseback mounted shooting.(pre war) when he had long hair he liked doing it in the same style as sara (he doesn't have much spiritual identity in his hair but his grandfather did he just liked it long because that's how his grandfather his, also he thinks it looks nice on him. he doesn't enjoy the racist comments he gets on it though obv) western suits. (actually part of how he met his wife) dancing (boy loves line dancing sm)

dislikes: any clerical/business work. Itchy fabrics. being cold, people assuming he’s just a stupid country boy. Literally anyone he went to high school with except for his best friend. Gilah monsters, He knows they don’t often bite people but they scare him still. Coyotes. Really fast talkers. Alcohol. Lyndon Johnson. Being touched without asking first. doctors. physical therapy. dark chocolate (opposite of me) the beatles (again so not jo) running. horseback mounted shooting (post war)

personality: gentleman, always wants to be polite and helpful but also extremely blunt and doesn't realize it's rude/funny/awkward he comes from a family where men are pretty open with their feelings masculinity? bitch his dad cried over hitting a barn cat with their truck. even though he's not really someone to hide his emotions because of like any societal or familial pressures, he doesn't like to be a problem or in anyone's way, so he isn't always too open. really good with kids. he really wanted kids but was exposed to agent orange and was advised to not have children, it broke his heart more than being a pow. genuinely terribly traumatized obv but especially just heart broken by the fact he'll never be a dad. protective of his friends and family to a detrimental degree, wouldn't ever hurt anyone except for when they say something cruel about mike (brother), sara (wife), theodore (best friend). only really became reserved in his emotions after the war, where he felt kinda ashamed and struggled with survivors guilt. can be a show off but he's honestly just earnestly proud of himself. likes to learn new practical skills, he was so excited when he learned to sew.

#jo lore???#johnny and sara (joCs)#my oc stuff #jo's tired rambles #ill do the others later #sara #mike #and my boy theo #guys i love him so mcuh #he's a total wife guy #him and his brother #just love their wives

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srmthfgrimworld · 1 year ago

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Game 1: Part 27

Sadly, Rose was born sick, Gibson did some tests on the baby and found that there was a low chance she would survive the year.

Mandarin and Nova were determined to do their best.

However the teams spirit was shattered when Antauri died, a mixture of the strange illness he'd been carrying some years now and a recent food poising had pushed him to the edge. The team were devastated.

They buried Antauri next to Nevil. With no one to tend to the spirit tree, it began to lose it's connection.

Meanwhile, the raids on the base kept coming, there would be long periods of peace and then sudden rushes of several raids one after the other. Gibson and Otto worked together to design a better trap, one that would self reload after being set off, so that way they didn't have to replace the traps every time.

The monkey team had a funeral for Antauri sometime later, they were still in shock, Mandarin reminded them that he wasn't really gone.

Sadly, Rose joined the graveyard not too long after. Nova placed a plushy on her grave. The death of Antauri and Rose affected everyone harshly.

Mandarin was angry with himself, he needed to try better.

He tried to put himself first in harms way during raids, protecting the others as much as he could.

Meanwhile, Amara had started following Sprx around, at first he was hesitant, but Amara soon won him over and he enjoyed talking to her and showing her how to do things.

She also spent time with Otto, whom she really wanted to try out shooting but he wouldn't let her.

One day, Sprx never came home, the team wondered where he had gone, they went out to look for him and found his stuff, blood everywhere in the snow. Nearby, was a dragon.

The dragon had eaten Sprx.

They didn't have the body, so they couldn't have a proper funeral, but they tried to have one. It didn't go very well.

While out on patrol, Nova found an injured cat, she brought it home and tended to it until it got better. It had a collar that said 'Elf'. Happily, the cat decided to stay with them, something Nova needed very badly. A pet.

During another raid, Nova was knocked out and was about to be kidnapped. Mandarin luckily saw this happen and ran out to the man taking her away, he killed him on the spot and took Nova back to the base. He wasn't going to let anyone get kidnapped again.

The raiders had started attacking their power lines and buildings outside of the base. They decided to wall off more area around them, protecting their land and forcing the enemy to walk through the traps before they could try to destroy their stuff.

However, they didn't take into account of the boomrat that had been living with them for some years now. It provided them with gas which could be useful in the future. But, for some reason, the boomrat exploded while it was in the barn. Many animals were burnt or perished in the fire .

Months went by, Amara was getting older and able to do more stuff, she liked to go run around outside a lot, but she was starting to take more interest in what her family were doing.

It wasn't long until Nova had another child, a boy called Kian. Gibson was glad to tell them he was born healthy.

One day, a dragon had been spotted outside the base. Mandarin ordered that everyone was to remain inside until it was gone. However, a group of traders stopped outside the base and they attacked the dragon when it got too close. The dragon killed the traders but it was wounded very badly.

The team considered helping it, but Mandarin didn't want to take the chance and let the dragon perish.

Amara was becoming greatly interested in science, she watched and listened to Gibson everyday while he worked.

Gibson and Otto had a romantic moment. 😳

Amara spent time playing with her baby brother.

Another raid, this time Mandarin was almost kidnapped, again. Nova however chased the man down and brought Mandarin home.

#srmthfg #super robot monkey team hyperforce go #mandarin #nova #otto #gibson #amara #kian #chapter #game1

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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 2 years ago

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Name: Jacques Hart Euston

Nicknames: Jac (prefers to be called this), Hart (by classmates/waiter name), Cutie, Jaccy, Sexy (all from thirsty customers), Weirdo, Mad-Man, Axe-Man, Slut, Horn Dog (all by Wilhelm and Janet and others)

Birthday: July 26th

Age: 19

Height: 5'9-6''

Appearance: Jac is a slim toned muscular body build with porcelain white skin with rose tints and undertone with round hazel light brown eyes that looks like honey, short curly fluffy thick brown hair with a single dye streak of Valentine red on his left side to his bangs, his nails are always painted black, has a single tongue piercing, a total of five ear piercings on his right ear while he has four on his left ear, and a pair of barbell piercings on his nipples. He's usually wearing good eyeliner, some blush, and two small red hearts painted under his cheeks.

Clothing: He always dress in a typical ALT fashion style with fishnet leggings and sometimes under-top, mesh tops, cropped tank tops, normal tank tops, baggie hoodie, hoodie jackets, and leather jackets, tight black or dark blue or dark red jeans with rips, white and red high tops or red doc-martens, and sometimes always a random set of heart-shaped glasses of many colors.

Personality: He's very childish and fun as many say, a natural charmer and flirt. He is what some call "crazed" and has a bad boy like aura around him which doesn't help his flirty nature, laid back and very much full of energy like a puppy. But behind all that he's actually pretty depressed and loyal as Hell, often being the one with heartbreak and not the ones who he spends a night with. Like Sia, he has a huge temper when he gets protective and is often very jealous and mean when something goes back. Is surprisingly very good with kids and secretly wishes to be a dad one day.

Schooling: 1st Year of college, Art

Likes: Tea, iced tea, boba tea, milk tea, punk-rock, alternative rock, k-pop, girls, guys, Bourbon, rapping, kids, partying, shredding the guitar, playing the saxophone, hot tubs, walks on the beach, sex, tacos, raining nights, hiking, camping, art, painting, drawing, clay art, jazz music, roses, the gym, working out, pizza, Aya

Dislikes: Cheaters, adultery, sexism, racists, being bossed around too much if you aren't his guardian or boss or someone who cares for him, if he's bottoming for a guy and not being satisfied, cockroaches, being called a homewrecker or accused of being a cheater of "wolf", idea thieves, thieves, cat calls when he's at work, when customers try to touch/grab him when he's working

Abilities: Great cook, amazing voice, dance well, great with kids, flexibility, saxophone, guitar, high energy, fast runner, art

Story: Jac was born in a rather normal family in the deep countryside of France on a farm with his mother, his army father, his dear teenage older brother, and grandparents as a happy child, until 2008 when he was four years old the barn was burned while the father was out on deployment and later killed during the Uzbin Valley Ambush, his mother was knocked out before the fire happened and perished while Jac's older brother ran through fire to save him and ran 10 miles until he saw a neighboring farm and begged for mercy before going into a coma from his injuries. Police caught the ones who started the fire, learning they were simply robbers who took a chance for the house protector to be gone, and charged them. Jac's brother passed away after five months of holding on.

Jac became nonverbal after the whole ordeal and was taken to a orphanage where he isolated himself afraid of the outside and it's people. Things changed when he was five and overheard a little girl singing in the hallway, peeked and saw her. She didn't speak a lick of French and he didn't know English but the two became fast friends drawing, laughing, singing, exploring, her really helping the boy grow again. Then she left the following year when her family returned, never truly getting her name in the end.

Before he got depressed again he gets taken by a English family who mainly took him in for the sake of a free gardener, but through this he met the family's youngest daughter who was in her late teens mad at the world named Helena Viviladi who the two bonded and she made plans to adopt him once she's 20. That day came and she did without much argument from her family who had clear favorites, moved from England to America when Jac was 10 and met Ivan and the two became fast friends in no time. Now he's currently in collage working at a diner called "Dîner D'enfer" with Maria as a singing waiter

Name Meanings: Jacques - French for "supplanter" Hart - Irish for "bear" or "hero" Euston - Irish for "heart"

#disney villain recruiters #disney villain recruiter au #jacques euston #jac euston #jack heart

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darklingichor · 7 months ago

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Abandoned Prayers; The Amish Wife, by Gregg Olsen

I seem to be on something of a nonfiction kick. I liked Olsen's story telling with If You Tell, so I thought I would give The Amish Wife a try because it was free with my audible membership. I got about five minutes into it and realized that this was a follow up to one of hos earlier books. I can't read things out of order, with the exception of brother Cadfael books, so, I had to stop and read Abandoned Prayers.

The case of Eli Stutzman, his wife Ida and his son Danny is sad and very weird.

Eli was born into an Amish community from an early age it was apparent that there was something off about him. And this wasn't your typical just not right for the Amish life, kind of stuff. He would lie to get attention,

It was thought that he skinned a cat, just to blame some other people for it. He cut himself up and pretended to have been assaulted. Then of course there was the fact that people had a habit of dying around him.

He was in and out of the Amish community in the 70's, one of the times he was in, he married a devout Amish girl named Ida. Ida loved Eli, but he was less than interested in really making a life with her. They had a son Danny, but when the boy was still very young, the barn on their property caught fire, and Ida, pregnant with their second child,died trying to get equipment, or animals out of the blaze (what she was trying to rescue depended on what Eli decided to say at any given time).

Eli told various stories full.of various holes, one of them being that Ida had a weak heart and that, is what ultimately lead her death.

The ME at the time, did a crappy job on Ida's autopsy and went with the heart thing, even though there was really no evidence of it.

Eli then took Danny and left the Amish.

They criss-crossed states so much that I couldn't really keep track, but the time was filled with drugs and sex, all in all not an environment for a kid. There was more thanmone account that suggested that Danny was abused, by his father and used in some of these parties. Which is so disgusting and rage inducing that I feel sick just typing that.

After one of his roommates turned up dead, Eli took Danny and fled, the boy was eventually found dead in a corn field in Nebraska. Eli would spin stories, that his son had been sick and passed from illness, that it had been the fault of fumes from a faulty tail pipe on the car they had been driving in.

Eli was convicted of the murder of his roommate, and abandoing his son as his death couldn't be determined.He was sent to prison in 1985. His sentence was for forty years, but he was out in fifteen. He later killed himself. It is thought that he also killed two other men.

Okay, so that's a very truncated version of what the first book is about. The bare facts. And I did that to make a point.

Eli Stutzman was a sick man who killed people, including his own son.

What I didn't say, that Olsen focused on is that Eli was gay. Two of the other men he is suspected of killing were two of his lovers.

Eli would put ads in magazines looking for hook ups, or relationships, charm these men, and then end up manipulating money out of them, or just be abusive. He would then make something up and run.

And he got away with so much stuff because so many of these men were afraid to come forward because of the stigma of being gay in the 70's and 80's.

So why did I leave this out in the above summary? Because, while it is important that Eli was gay and took advantage of and killed men who trusted him, it's important because it highlights just how fearful people were about being outed.

Olsen, however seemingly recounts every single sexual encounter he was told about, often, mentioned over and over how well hung Eli was. He described orgies. All of this over and over again.

There was something in how this was written that felt like it was dehumanizing the men that Eli duped. It read less like an account of how this sick fuck used the fear in the gay community to get his rocks off and abuse people., and more like trying to paint being a gay man as equivalent to being seedy, which is a low move, even for something published in 2002 and set mostly in the 70's and 80's.

Eli Stutzman was a horrible human being, he would have been one even if he hadn't been gay.

In The Amish Wife, the tone was much different, there wasn't a focus on the sex, and the men that Eli hooked up with were given more humanity. This was also a much more personal book.

Many people thought that Eli had killed Ida. He wanted out of the Amish life, he wanted to do whatever he pleased, and he needed money to do it.

He wasn't even subtle, less than twelve hours after a will was drawn up, something most Amish do not do, Ida was dead. Eli was dumb about it, not even giving enough time for the document to be processed.

Olsen spent less time in Eli's head and more time in his own and the personal crusade he picked up trying to get justice for Ida.

I felt that this book was less sensationalized in style and didn't read like a tabloid. Rather it was more about finding the truth.

The differences between these two books made me wonder if, because Abandoned Prayers was one if the author's early books, the publisher told him to punch up the sex element of it to make it more interesting.

He doesn't say so in The Amish Wife, but it's just something to think about.

Justice for Ida could only come from finding the truth since the person who killed her is beyond punishment, but that doesn’t mean that that surch for truth isn't worthwhile.

All in all, these books were interesting, but not the best true crime I have read.

#Book #books #book blogging 2024 #abandoned Prayers #Gregg Olsen

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housewifebuck · 1 year ago

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Ok more under the cut

Cherry (LH) and Peanut (DSH) but I call them Chirby and Penis. Don’t ask:) once again these guys (and their brother who was adopted) came to me at about 9 weeks old totally feral and while the brother socialized easily, these two were harder. Peanut took months to even let me touch her. I decided they had to be adopted together, and they were adopted and returned within a week two times because they had become so bonded to me they wouldn’t warm up to anyone else and the adopters didn’t want to be patient 🫥 instead of putting them thru that over and over I just decided to keep them. Peanut is still so skittish and hides most of the time but she’s very sweet and cherry is a certified kleptomaniac she will steal anything small and plastic right out of my fucking hands and run and hide it and every time I move furniture I will find hoards of my missing shit

Michael ! Michael is probably one of the weirdest cats ive ever had. she came from a horrendous hoarding situation where she had spent 5-6 years living in a small cement room with 17-18 other cats being fed raw eggs and table scraps. she had had very little human interaction and when I got her she was extremely fractious like I would walk into my foster room and she would come at me and attack me. I had to wear bite guard gloves around her for a very long time and she fucked my shit up on many occasions. the rescue I was fostering her through wanted to adopt her out as a barn cat but I knew she would not do well in that life plus she has a million chronic health issues so I decided to foster fail her. she has gotten to the point where she is handleable (only by me) and she loves to be pet and is very sweet but she also is insane and afraid of hands so if she sees them coming she will attack. but I love her anyway

Jack....my little deluxe cheeseburger...he was part of the first colony I ever TNR'd on my own in march of 2020. I trapped him and his sister together and named them Jack n Hoff. he was a true feral cat (born outside, lived outside his whole life) and was not a candidate for socialization at the time that I trapped him but over the next few months he started getting more comfortable with the caretaker and was coming close enough to the house that it was antagonizing her dogs, so she called me one day and threatened to call animal control to pick him up if I didn't come get him. so I had no choice but to relocate him to my property which is very risky for ferals but the alternative was euthanasia thru animal control. he lived on my property for 3 years and over that time went from being terrified of me to slowly becoming obsessed with me and it was a long long process but this past march I finally transitioned him to being an indoor boy and he hasn't looked back once:)

Colter!! aka cooter. aka the coot. he was my first special needs cat (he has radial hypoplasia + partial congenital blindness) and one of the first cats I rescued after starting my own org. I fell in love with him and could not give him up. he's mommy's special little freak. he likes to stand on his back legs like a person.

Gracie <3 Gracie was an owner surrender all the way from western PA that took multiple volunteers multiple trips to transport all the way to me in NY. She has moderate cerebellar hypoplasia aka wobbly cat syndrome aka shes just a little silly goofy. she is my stinky little angel she is my entire world I cannot express how much I love this cat. she's lost a lot of her incisors from crashing head first into things so her tongue be hanging out sometimes. she also has exotropia which means I have to hold two mirrors on either side of her head when she needs to check her makeup

Vance (@mandzuking17 no relation) and Persi. Vance was found as a kitten left in a bag on the R train in Brooklyn. she was very sick and had been struck on the side of the head by someone hard enough to leave her with permanent internal damage to her right eye, nostril, and jaw (which is why she looks so crusty all the time). it was touch and go for a minute with her but now she is all grown up and healthy other than being half blind and having some coordination issues. she is best friends with Persephone (Persi) (the dilute tortie) who was found in a glue trap after having been stuck for multiple days. my dad wound up adopting them both together lmao

willow (white), cedar, and mahogany (brown)

I trapped these guys as kittens as part of a TNR effort. they had been separated from their mom and were starving and sickly. there was originally a fourth littermate named butternut, who unfortunately passed away from FIP which was diagnosed too late to treat. because the gene that causes FIP is hereditary I kept a very close eye on the others after and they all seemed fine until around 5 months later when willow got sick. after over 100 days of daily painful injections of an experimental treatment followed by a long observation period he was pronounced cured:) cedar and mahogany luckily have stayed very healthy. all of them are fucking clowns and are obsessed with each other. I actually did a TikTok on these guys a long time ago that wound up going viral and if youve seen it no you haven't. please don't dox me on here.

remy :) so named because when he was a baby he reminded me of a little rat. he was so small and scraggly and squeaky. he has severe femoral hypoplasia and mild radial hypoplasia which means his back legs are basically zigzags and his front wrists are limp as fuck. (these are both congenital defects which dont cause any pain they just make him funny looking. he gets around just fine)

and finally......Flipflop.....he has severe CH which means he cant really walk and just kinda goes flip and flop. he's even more insane than he looks he's a deranged little criminal. someone was giving him away for free on Facebook and I had no choice but to snatch him up. technically he is still a foster atm but he is most likely going to be a lifer because he needs pretty specialized care. plus him and remy now are inseparable 🙄

THERE U GO!!!!!!! I think thats everybody LMAO

Cam I am begging on my hands and knees BLEASE give your wobbly babies (or baby if you only have the one) some boopy kisses for me I am in love 😭 what are their names?? Yes I want to know all 19 of them 🙏

I WILL!!!!!!!! I have two wobblies Gracie and Flipflop:) and omg……..if u really want to know all of them…..I will put them under the cut

So first my OGs, aka the four cats I had before I started rescuing and collecting unadoptables willy nilly:

Mr. C - He’s cranky and old and toothless

Jezebel - she is a little baby who will put up with absolutely anything as long as she’s getting attention. She is also mostly toothless but makes up for it with 28 toes. She loves to get stuck in my cabinets and bang on the door until I come let her out

Justin (L) and Smickle. They’re brothers we adopted together and they also are the worst. They hate everybody and beat up my other cats and pee on my countertops but it’s ok bc I love them. But I don’t have a ton of pictures of them bc the love is not mutual

Annie:-) my beloved girl. She was my first ever foster kitten who was given to me because the woman who had the rest of her litter was getting nowhere with socializing her and she was terrified of everything. she kinda imprinted on me like a baby duck and I had no choice but to foster fail her

Dione! Dione was Annie’s foster fail. She was another super scared feral kitten who was terrified of me until I started letting Annie come into the foster room with me and they became BFFs. She likes to lie on her back in the middle of the floor for no reason

Now please hold for part two bc I can only fit 10 pics in a post at a time

#catposting #im on desktop now so I could fit them all in one post #sorry this is so long but like YOU ASKED !#personal

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afluffygalerion · 3 years ago

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Inspired to go back and do redo some warrior oc refs! Or to just actually give my ocs refs to begin with. Since these are just for fun, I don't need to be super picky about "professional" looking outlines either.

#they look so much better this way #i really needed to sort out my tabby marking style #staglight finally looks like a normal yet floofy cat #barn cat looking boy but then again he was born a barn cat #could you believe leafstar had three kits all toms and that sleek yet strong queen was minature beside them?#they grew up to be MASSIVE #ill be working on their refs eventually #maybe tigerfrost and batwing's refs but possibily not as they do not survive long after becoming warriors #shallowpool however lived to become her deputy eventually

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calummss · 3 years ago

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✎ 𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬! 𝐀𝐔

masterlist

i was bored so i made this

[authors note]

☾ this au is based on skz own chosen houses they mentioned at kcon 2019, exception being hyunjin

some stuff is based on 21st century wizarding world

lots of hp references so if u dont get them sorry!

they're my thoughts so please don't criticize

my opinions are correct and i won’t argue

this is also like a year old lmao

this is fictional and just for fun

yes, minho funniest b at hogwarts! suck it up

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

house: slytherin

wand: 11’’, ebony wood, dragon heartstring

patronus: wolf

blood status: pure blood

pets: western barn owl

best subject: dada

worst subject: transfiguration

slytherin head boy

captain of the slytherin quidditch team

he himself is a seeker

people are jealous because he’s good friends with harry who’s rather closed off to others

always makes sure that the slytherin common room password is appropriate

gives the skz boys gifts for christmas

got detention a few times due to fights

people thought he was the heir of slytherin so he went along with it

during his free time he likes to play quidditch with oliver wood

okay girls love to watch that

house: gryffindor

wand: 12 ¼”, pine wood, dragon heartstring

patronus: calico cat

blood status: half blood

pets: orange cat but adopted two more stray cats

best subject: astronomy

worst subject: muggle studies

gryffindor head boy

very mischievous

the prankster of the school

no one forgot the day he made snape’s cauldron go up in flames

often referred to a the third weasley twin

brought his cat to charms class once and accidentally turned her into a flower pot

stays up late in front of the fireplace

uses magic for everything

paper not in reach? accio it is

flirts with the fat lady when he forgets the password

‘do you believe in love at first sight?’

‘i’m not sure…’

‘do you want me to walk by again?’

it works every time

he likes to play the ‘mean head boy’ but genuinely lets students get away with things because he doesn’t care

is a half blood and literally has no idea of the muggle world

so he always has so many questions for changbin

house: gryffindor

wand: 10 ½”, willow wood, phoenix feather

patronus: wild rabbit

blood status: muggle born

pets: black cat

best subject: history of magic

worst subject: potions

rapped an assignment with lee jordan one

professor flitwick loved it!!

quidditch commentary with lee jordan is the most entertaining thing at the games

‘captain marcus flint collides with hufflepuff captain cedric diggory..., looks like an intimate moment for the both of the-‘

everyone is so intimidated by him until he opens his mouth

but the same people get afraid when he’s angry

ate a chocolate filled with a love potion once and the first thing he saw was mr. filch

no one lets him forget that day

he got revenge on the person though

blew up a potion once and snape wasn’t too happy

hates minho’s bazillion questions about the muggle world

house: slytherin

wand: 13”, yew wood, veela hair

patronus: ferret

blood status: half blood

pets: red squirrel

best subject: charms

worst subject: divination

keeper for the slytherin quidditch team

everyone kept saying was a veela because no one could be that beautiful

his veela wand didn’t help either

has girls and boys swooning over him

jisung swore he caught professor snape trying hyunjin’s hairstyle once

absolutely hates trelawney's class and gossips with hermione about it

on the topic of that, hyunjin and hermione are besties

thought that a stray ferret was cute but had a heart attack when it turned back into draco

he still has trauma to this day

and jeongin never let’s him forget

vents to hagrid every saturday

is a beast a wizards chess

takes weekly trips to honeydukes

house: gryffindor

wand: 12 ¾”, hazel wood, unicorn hair

patronus: red squirrel

blood status: pure blood

pets: white-orange persian cat

best subject: transfiguration

worst subject: care of magical creatures

is low key popular

is a flirt but in a sarcastic way

is smart without having to study

hermione’s jealous of that

insults other students randomly and often

‘nice hat, pilgrim!’

passed out in herbology twice because he forgot to wear his ear mittens correctly

is the best flyer at hogwarts and was even awarded a trophy for it

joined the triwizard tournament as a joke but ended up winning

mcgonagall likes to show off his talents in class

she’s just so proud

house: hufflepuff

wand: 9 ⅓”, alder wood, unicorn hair

patronus: doe

blood status: pure blood

pets: black and white rat

best subject: charms

worst subject: herbology

hufflepuff quidditch beater

steals food from the kitchens

butterbeer dates with chan which often causes others to stare at them

people are always surprised when they find out that he sucks at herbology for some reason

it’s okay though because neville helps him

gets paired up with ron for most school projects but they always turn in good work??

it surprises every teacher all the time

accidentally walked into the ravenclaw tower once and no one minded because he’s super sweet

occasionally gets made fun of by slytherin students for being a pure blooded hufflepuff wizard

seungmin took care of them

likes to look at the stars at night which makes him go to class very sleep deprived

house: slytherin

wand: 11 ¾”, chestnut wood, phoenix feather

patronus: mongrel dog

blood status: half blood

pets: tawny owl

best subject: potions

worst subject: astronomy

his father is the minister of magic

which naturally put a lot of pressure on him

‘you have to keep the family name up high.’, and ‘my son can’t be a failure.’

kim seungmin who grew up with the words, ‘don’t disappoint me” burned into his brain

photographs everything—even peeves,,

is snape’s favourite student and never disappoints in potions class

he likes to sit out by the lake and read old potion books

gets like 20 love letters a day, ignores them, and then complains about no one loving him

knows how to get into the whomping willow and keeps it to himself so he can read and study in peace

house: ravenclaw

wand: 12 ½”, black walnut wood, unicorn hair

patronus: fox

blood status: muggle born

pets: hedgehog

best subject: charms

worst subject: potions

probably the kindest student at hogwarts

but people often are surprised when his mood changes

especially during snape’s classes

his parents own a famous bakery on diagon alley, so he often brings back pastries for skz

is tutored by seungmin in potions

sets himself crazy goals and if he doesn’t succeed he feels like a failure

but chan is there to reassure him

often roams the castle grounds with dobby and everyone’s just ???

he’s an unregistered animagus and takes on the form of a fox,, no one knows though

spends most christmas holidays at hogwarts because his parents are busy

hyunjin stays with him because he doesn’t want him to be alone

cried an entire day when he thought fawkes died because of him

minho made jokes and made him think it was his fault but quickly cleared the misconception the following day

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happy74827 · 2 years ago

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Romanticize the Life

[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: An abrupt ending to a short dream leaves you flustered at breakfast.

WC: 901

Category: Lime/Spicy, Fluff, Alpine (the precious baby)

Not the story starting out strong and ending weak because I got writer’s block in the midst of writing. It makes me want to cry but it’s been sitting in my drafts forever, so I finally got the courage to post it. Also... I did not proof read this (oops) so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!!

『••✎••』

Giggles erupted from your throat as you eased into his embrace, kissing him soft and slow. They were passionate kisses that he accepted with full authority. His hands made their way back to grasp your hips as he pulled you in close, creating a twitch in his pants. He ignored this however with lips moving slightly downwards, leaving a trail of soft taps before making its way to its destination.

Your head rolled back in appreciation, your body pressed against him as he grinds into you, leaving his wet, slobbery kisses around your collarbone. Hickeys soon to be born within hours.

You inclined your head, letting his tongue run over you, again and again. Your legs shook and quivered underneath him, feeling the pre-pleasure soaking through your underwear.

And then he kisses your upper lip, resulting in a sigh. You open your mouth wider and kiss him back harder, hands clinging to his neck. He lets his hands raise to grip your hair, pinning you in place. He lets his tongue slip inside your mouth again, and you groan, feeling him shudder in response, a good kind of shudder. The carefulness of his movements opens up, and the kissing grows wetter and hungrier, and more urgent by the moment.

He breaks apart momentarily to look at you with assertive eyes, hands gripped tightly onto your thighs. He whispers your name, pulling a fallen hair sliver back behind your ear. His piercing eyes burn holes into your heart, making your skin grow goosebumps.

“Buck…” You mutter beneath him, hands flying to his hair.

“What?”

Your head jerks up from the table, eyes wide and mouth half-open. You forgot where you were for a moment, taking in the fact you weren’t in your bedroom. You were at Sam’s. In his kitchen.

Holy shit… did you…?

Your widened eyes found Bucky’s, sitting across from you. While chopping on an apple, he was currently giving you a sketchy look. “Uh, B-Buck?”

“Yeah? What’d you want?”

Oh my god… you did.

“I…. uh… nothing, never mind.” You muttered rapidly, searching the table for something to munch on. The amount of embarrassment you held was about uncontainable. You were a second away from running away to lock yourself in the bathroom.

But, of course, the soldier didn’t give up. His eyes squinted daringly at yours, not even caring when his newly adopted cat pounced on the table — begging for attention.

He would’ve said something to you if Sam hadn’t walked into view, starting his typical banter.

“Hey, Bambi!” His voice bounced all over the cabinets. “Care to explain why your stupid cat tore up my new couch?!”

“No, not really!” Bucky slowly tore his eyes away from you, giving his angel of a cat all the attention he wanted. You could’ve sworn you heard a mutter escape his lips, something that sounded like, “good boy.”

“My couch was leather, Bucky.” Sam whined, “Leather.”

“Well, now it’s leather with design,” Bucky smirked, holding his half-eaten apple to his lips. “Alpine got style, what can I say?”

“…Alpine?” Your voice was still shaken up from the ongoing embarrassment in your head but you couldn’t help but question the name.

As if to add emphasis, the cat meowed in response as if he already knew his name. “That’s his name?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, scratching the attention hog's chin. “That’s what I named him. Thought it was… unique. I didn’t want to pick some lowlife name, you know?”

“It’s an awful name,” Sam yelled with a smile. "Absolutely hideous."

Both Bucky and Alpine snapped their heads in unison towards Sam, giving him a glare that made you let out a few giggles. “No one asked you, Sam.”

“Well, Buck, I think Alpine is a fitting name.” You interrupted, letting the brunette turn to you once again. He took another bite out of his apple, while he listened to your words. Appreciation was clear in his eyes. “It reminds me of those pretty mountain glaciers.”

The pigeon rolled his eyes at you, as you watched him sit on his shredded couch. “Kiss ass.”

James ignored him and smiled at you. And it wasn’t a forced smile like he usually did either, it was a genuine one.

You’ve noticed for a while now how happier he’s been. Ever since he took in Alpine, his life seemed to go his way for once. No bad guys, no hydra, just… family. Friends. It made your heart swell up at the fact he was happy. He was finally happy, after struggling for so long.

However, the smile was short-lived once his brain made the connection that Sam was preoccupied. As his eyes hovered over yours, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Are you sure you didn’t want something? You know, before Icarus bugged me.”

“I’m sure, Buck.” You put on an awkward smile, “It truly wasn’t all that important.”

He pushed Alpine gently to the side as he gave you the “totally not convinced” stare. If it had been anything else on your mind, that look would’ve made you give in. But, to tell him that you called his name because you were dreaming of him? Hell no. It was way too damn embarrassing.

He gazed at you softly, his stone blue eyes immersed with unsureness. Little Alpine joined in as well, squeaking as he rubbed his tail on your arm.

“Promise?” Bucky muttered softly.

“Promise.”

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

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A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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a03bkdk · 3 years ago

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fantasy bkdk fic rec list

a certain kind of magic by eatdirt

((4590-1/1))

“Forgive me, kind witch! I—I do not wish to disturb you, but I’m afraid it's urgent!"

Katsuki will later blame his bewilderment that anyone—let alone a human boy in filthy rags—would drag themselves all the way out to his home on the outskirts of civilization, for why he stalks down the stairs and cracks open the door.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he growls.

Or, the one where Katsuki is a witch in a weed-infested swamp and Deku won’t stop coming around.

the shrinekeeper and the harvest god by bkdkwritingsdump

((smut-30148-18/18))

Izuku keeps the shrine of the harvest god, a minor god mostly worshiped by farmers and ignored by everyone else until the yearly harvest festival. During a spring thunderstorm one year, a mysterious man named Katsuki shows up at his shrine seeking shelter from the rain, but ends up over staying his welcome by a few months. In that time, Izuku not only begins to become suspicious of his identity, but finds himself longing for something more between them.

cupid, draw back your bow by almasaga

((i dont remember if there is smut-16496-2/2))

Cupid remembers the oath he took, remembers the broken arrow, remembers the wrath of his mother and goddess, remembers his roots, remembers that he is a god.

But when he hears him he forgets it all.

“Are you there still?” Asks a voice, clear and never wrong. The only voice he wishes to hear.

“Always,” he says and it blows through his beloved.

solar by kindaopps

((smut-7037-1/1))

Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

deku by mirachadoodles

((smut-20852-9/9))

Neither seemed willing to look away in the tense silence that fell, drawn to one another as if by a thick and brilliant thread.

The boy viewed him thoughtfully, as though he recognized him from another life, as though he knew him.

It was odd—he felt the same way.

---

Or, shortly after Katsuki's dragon went missing, a naked man attempted to break into his family barn. Izuku had no memory of his past life, and apparently had no idea how to be human, either. He was just acting on instinct.

a cat named deku by silentsongbird

((6662-1/1))

Bakugou begrudgingly takes in a stray cat that has been hanging around his home. He says he's motivated by the weather turning colder, but he just can't resist the little fur ball. One night, Deku decides to let him in on a little secret.

if the stars align, then for us they were meant by runawaydeviant

((smut-17485-6/6))

Katsuki and Eijirou crash land in a forest to the south of their homeland. Injured and stranded, they befriend a local nature spirit, who is much more than he first appears to be.

soulmates in steel and (p 2)mine is yours by lalazee

((3000-1/1)) (p 2(smut-2509-1/1))

Midoriya Izuku returns to a tribe long lost and forgotten to claim his rightful throne. At least, that's what King Katsuki assumes of him.

(p 2) One large, calloused hand spread sparks down Izuku’s chest, ribs, rested at his lightly bruised hip. Izuku knew fingerprints still remained from last time, and the last, and the time after that. He felt more like a dappled deer now, all those spots smattered across his thighs, ass, hips, wrists. King Katsuki was certainly a man who marked his territory.

but the entrails are the best part! by supercrunch

((15278-1/1))

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

happenstance by merrywetherweather

((78566-22/22))

When Katsuki was just a child, his mother, the King of Lucia, took him to enact diplomacy with the Midoriya's, the royal family of the neighboring country of Tayloria. After that day, his fate was sealed, his marriage arranged to the Midoriya's elusive omegan child.

At the age of twenty, he leaves for Tayloria again, this time, to finally wed his fiance and cement the allyship of the two kingdoms indefinitely. Only, his fiance turns out to be the child he had met on his very first visit, a naive, idealistic young prince who wants nothing to do with marrying the prince of Lucia.

Good thing he just assumed Katsuki was only part of his fiance's entourage.

An arranged marriage between two princes aob au where Katsuki tries to abide by Izuku's desire for a natural romance to develop without letting Izuku know his true identity.

plums by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat

((14116-3/3))

There’s a boy stealing plums from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

Correction.

There’s a boy stealing plums, very badly, from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

mermaid AU breathe In by contrarybee

((series-smut-3 works-45236 in all))

Midoryia Izuku was born in captivity. He's never known the ocean.

His human carer Yagi-san tells him they're getting a new merman in the aquarium, one that they hope Izuku might like. Having been alone since his mother's death, Izuku is beyond excited to have a new mer around, but Bakugo Katsuki might prove to be too much. Or maybe he's just right.

fishy by warschach

((smut-19417-1/1))

Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

home is where the waves crash. by tiredwrites

((4105-1/1))

Izuku thrashes in his cage, the fins that line his large tail flare with a dangerous purpose. The claws his fingers taper into slice through the water and catch the light that filters into the clear water of the aquarium tank he's in.

His gills flare in irritation as he flips around, muscled tail ramming into the three-inch glass barrier with a thundering BAM!

Bioluminescent sacs under clear scales flare and glow, flashing a brilliant toxic green. The team that had brought the merman into the tank watch the mer flail and roar, flexing the powerful jaws that can often unhinge, like a snake.

only the roses know by katyastark

((13193-5/5))

Izuku didn’t want to marry a foreigner. The person he wanted was here… somewhere. He didn’t have a face or a name to ascribe to his admirer. Only roses. For every name day and holiday since he was thirteen, he had received a perfect orange rose. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. The roses never failed to make him feel doted upon. It was their secret, and Izuku cherished it more than anything else in the world. He didn’t want to give that up for some stranger, for an alliance through a loveless marriage.

torn fur, blunt teeth by scribespirare

((smut-43013-17/17))

After eight months of being collared, Izuku is finally free. But a dark, stormy city is no place for a lonely shapeshifter on the run.

ignorance leads to bliss by nikawithspice

((smut-3941-1/1))

A brave wandering adventurer swoops in and saves a beautiful prince from danger, gets dragged to a celebratory bonfire and has a night that he could only have dreamed of!

Or, the one in which Midoriya Izuku accidentally gets married to a Dragon Prince but wouldn't have it any other way.

#bakudeku #bakudeku fic #bakudeku fics #bakudeku fic recs #bkdk #bkdk fic #bkdk fic recs #yeah

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years ago

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The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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lillian-nator · 4 years ago

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Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO:

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS:

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids, but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose:

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine.

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine.

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why.

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing.

Phil doesn’t question it at this point

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES:

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S:

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating.

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine. - M

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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years ago

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Dr Dolittle

FIRST FIC OF THE WEEK BESTIESSSSSS, I hope your Monday was absolutely splendid and if it wasn’t then treat yourself to an episode of something, a book perhaps or maybe a nice hot drink. Anyway enjoy this I know I enjoyed writing it. (also I couldn’t remember if Alpine was a boy or a girl so I went with boy). Love you all <3

You are gifted Bestie

No literally you have the ability to talk to animals

Being born with this power made sure your childhood was never lonely

The pebble launched across the playground as you kicked it as hard as you could. You didn’t have many friends, not because you weren’t liked, it was just that you tended to keep to yourself. So instead of playing stuck in the mud or whatever game of house the other kids had come up with you decided that kicking rocks was more fun. “What are you doing” squawked a voice, lifting your eyes up to see if you could see which one of your classmates had asked you the question, all you were greeted by was the distant squeals of children and the rock you had been about to kick. “Down here” the voice called again. Head drifting downwards you spotted a little caterpillar on one of the daisies that had popped up the week before, putting your hand out your eyes grew to be the size of flying saucers as the little creature made its way onto your hand. “Did you just speak?” you whispered in awe, gently plopping your 6 year old body onto the floor, as much as you were hoping for a reply even at 6 years old you felt a bit silly asking a caterpillar if it had been the one that asked you the question. “Yes but I’ll ask again anyway, what are you doing?”.

The caterpillar had been called Dot

Dot hadn’t stayed very long, you were inseparable at school for about 2 weeks before they told you that they would have to go for a little while

Sooner than you could say wow look at these daisies, Dot returned as a beautiful butterfly

And even into your teenage years you would wonder what Dot did after their transformation

Whether it was the crow that perched on the old oak tree at the start of the forest trail teaching you what berries to eat at what time of year

“No that bush to your right. RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT!” Rory squawked into your ear as you stood on an old rotting tree stumps trying to get to the berries he had instructed you to share with him. “I am trying, these logs are going to break and it’s not my fault I don’t know my left from right” you giggled, finally reaching the burning red treasures. “Silly little human” Rory muttered (well I say Muttered it was more of a shouty squawk) “silly little bird” you giggled back, hopping off the log and skipping back down the track.

Or the wise old owl who liked to tell you stories

Taking you to far off kingdoms through the magical travel of words

“And so me and Bettie flew all the way back home, love fresh in our hearts and knowledge ripe in our minds” Mary spoke, her heart warming story fluttering down to you almost as soft as her stray feathers did. You loved when she told these stories, she had a way with words that even Van Gogh wouldn’t be able to live up to the paintings she created in your mind's eye. “Tell me another one Mary, you know how much I love them” she smiled as much as an owl good and ruffled her feathers “one more child, just one”. It was never just one.

You loved it all

So when you first met your dad Sergeant James Barnes and he asked you if you liked animals you must of talked for hours

“You have no idea” you chuckled nervously, scratching the back of your neck in an attempt to hide the nervous blush that had been covering your face since he revealed who he was. “Try me, what do you like about them” he beamed a bright smile, not the kind of smile people use to make others feel more comfortable but the type that met the eyes and made them look 10 years younger. “Okay so you know that feeling that you get when you have just woken up from a dream where you were best friends with someone even though in real life they don’t even exist?” waving your hands around animatedly like those blow up noodle men you get outside a car sales place “I can’t say I do” he replied, smiling even wider at the realisation that whatever shell you had once been wearing had finally been broken away. “Well anyway that’s what I feel every time I see a puppy trying to play catch with a stick 10 sizes too big or when a robin decides that flying beside me as I walk is better than whatever dish the forest has to offer”.

You went on and on in your explanation until he had to go back to the tower

Adding in random facts about every creature, flower, weed, leaf and rock you could

If that’s what you were like when he asked you about it

Imagine your delight when he told you he had a cat named Alpine

And after you moved into the tower

You instantly bonded with the feline

Sharing facts and gossip about the other occupants

“Nooooooo really?” you laughed as Alpine told you the most recent late night adventure he had caught Tony on, “yep and then when he went to close the dishwasher he lent on the top rack and it felt out, all the cups went everywhere”.

You made sure to take a look at the security cameras and bully Tony

“Psst Alpine” you nudged the white cat as you paused The house Wives of Beverly Hills, to spill the dirt you had on vision and Wanda. “Okay fine I guess I won’t tell you what our resident toaster and wiggly woo got up too last night” you crossed your arms tight across your chest pouting at the screen until a white ball of fur jumped onto your chest nudging at your arms, eager for the news. “Fine, they came home last night from a movie night and long story short they confessed their feeling to each other over late night pancakes” you squealed rubbing your furry friend behind his ears. “EEEEEEEEK”.

As much as your dad wanted to pretend that he was jealous over how much time HIS cat spent with you

His millions of blurry and oddly angled pictures that filled his camera roll would say otherwise

You loved animals

You loved nature

And you loved Alpine

You had everything you could ever want

#the avengers #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #bucky imagine #bucky x you #bucky x teen!reader #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x alpine #bucky fluff #avengers fluff

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