#hunt cook: catch and serve

[punigamefoodie]

Rabbit Cider Soup

"A French standard: Rabbit meat stewed in apple cider. Melt-in-your-mouth soft!"

[simulantion]

Game: Hunt Cook: Catch and Serve

A cute little mobile game about hunting and cooking wild game, then serve the dish to the customers

Hunting is a mini game that requires you (as the boss aka shiba dog) to catch up with the prey by dodging the obstacle

Then you bring the meat, along with vegetables that boss collects over some time, to the restaurant and cook meals

It's a good game to pass time while you're traveling in public transportation or having occasional breaks, because it doesn't requires your attention for a long time, you can just open the game, then:

collect vegetables

hunt 3 times (this needs your concentration unless you use quick hunt)

go to restaurant to check what the customers ordered

cook those meals

close the game (because some meals take hours to complete)

rinse and repeat

but I quite like this game because

cute art (can't argue with that)

great exotic meals (it's a spin-off of your casual everyday meal but with wild animal meat as ingredients, idk I am unable to catch wild game to try the dishes myself)

interesting facts of the wild game (like do you know how heavy a sunfish is? 2.4 tons)

the mini game can be challenging (if you're slow like me ._.)

Anyway I've completed the game (not really because I've not cleared all the trials with the boss, I'm bad at that mini game), so enjoy a few screenshots I took

oh and 4.5/5 definitely recommended for people who like cute art and cooking :)

UFO taking the cow when you click on it! usually it's a plane and it'll crash if you click on it :) cute little detail

sleeping in the middle of nature, looks relaxing...

kid and boss looks just like Rocco :D

yaaaay

Aliens are coming to invade us (or cows at least) ⚆_⚆''

We're coming for you elk

now you see it....

now you don't

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

when one labored feelings for another, there were a few ways to proceed. to zoro, coaxing you into an aphrodisiac mist was not the worst of ideas.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day twelve. smut (mdni!). aphrodisiacs. corruption kink. edging. virginity!loss. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

he could not quite pinpoint the exact moment in which the trees began to mingle, a mortar of wood, frail vines and leaves that gave him no indication of where he was headed whatsoever. deserted, forest-like islands were not as common in the new world as they were on the grand line, so one for sure could expect the appearance of, at least, ancient beasts and odd plants. venture by oneself was far from the wisest decision, yet it hadn’t been one zoro thought much about beforehand. the perv-cook offered — rather insisted — to be your escort, professing love-coated compliments and promising to be your ever-so-diligent knight. zoro turned on his back and strived towards the first direction he faced right thereafter, lacking the self-restraint not to snap then and there.

that had been twelve hours prior.

according to the witch, the log-pose would take three days to settle their next route. without a closer deadline, zoro doubted they would waste time searching for him — not when that land offered fruits and herbs for re-stocking, as well as served as a hunting ground for their captain. he could handle himself well-enough for the time being, a half-burnt rabbit fed him just as much as those fancy meals the cook prepared and his swords could slice an opponent within the second. he grew quite used to a lonesome state of life, yet the crew undid that decade-crafted tendency, and those wandering hours without company had him quite melancholic.

zoro itched for you, and failed to contain the tendon of jealousy that wrapped itself around his heart. where were you; why haven’t you searched for him? perhaps the cook had you far more entertained than anticipated. the thought had him slicing the large trunk of a tree in four pieces, sheathing wado with a harshness uncommon to the usual treatment he spared to his swords. yet again, not his brightest idea, for he, too, seemed to have sliced an odd plant.

zoro’s nostrils were filled with spores, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. he cursed, trembling fingers wrapped around the wild pulse of his wrist. his flesh grew scalding, sweat trailing down the muscles of his back. he half-expected to crumble, to have his throat constrict and cease the path of air to his lungs. poison. it must have been. he would soon be dead, punished for his own recklessness. his thoughts traveled to you, regretting the fact that he had not confessed. yet, his breathing remained — wild, ragged, there still. and the image of you ensued in greater heat, a pit of molten fire that threatened to ignite every organ; consume every particle of air. his cock was throbbing, aching, and zoro clutched own heart in agony, desperation feeding off his every thought.

the weather was tropical. it had forced you to leave the ship wearing nothing but a bikini-top and pants. zoro grunted at the reminder of those breasts, all but partially covered, frail fabric that he could snap with the simplest touch. he lost himself in his thoughts, tearing the waistband of his pants. spores embraced his aching member, and it was as though he had dipped himself into a sea of lava. zoro fisted himself, although the touch neither soothed nor brought comfort. instead, he fell to his knees, chasing a release that did not find him.

“zoro!” you shouted through the mist. “was that you, cutting through the tree?”

the sound of your voice had him shouting, pleasure coursing through his veins. haze of spores clouding his sights had him struggling to catch on the lines of your figure, lingering outside that clouded nightmare. he yearned for you — had been yearning for as long as memories could tell. yet, whenever he dared muse the prospect of confessing, courage failed him, and he was forced to retreat to his usual corner; to watch as the cook swirled around you.

that urge of pleasure brought by the plant, could it be shared? perhaps if zoro lured you into it, you, too, would burn — for it; for him. he was not the brightest tool in the shed, mind more often than not too slow to wrap itself around certain concepts. if zoro was to call you in, submit you to those spores, no one — perhaps the curly, but he did not care whatsoever — would dare blame him. he’d state he hadn’t noticed; hadn’t known; and in the aftermath of what he planned on doing to you inside that fog, if those feelings were not reciprocal, the pair of you would merely pretend. put the blame on the spores. it was a plan of no honor, but lust clouded his better judgment. the desire for your touch, which would present itself as the cure for the self-inflicted disease; the illness he planned on sharing with you.

“zoro?” you tried again, your voice strained.

he called out your name, straight into the lion’s den. his eyes grew more focused at your approach, ears perking up. you started to cough in sheer shock, yet zoro was conscient of the fact that it was but temporary. once your throat grew used to the burning, the spores would settle and you’d be conditioned to want him — perhaps as much as he wanted you.

“i’m here,” he coarsed, hiding his cock from your sight.

zoro beckoned you in, containing the grunt at your approaching figure. you were such a loyal, preoccupied crewmate, ignoring the warning signs for the sake of his protection. tear-pooled eyes met his wide ones as you caught on the state of him — kneeling, trembling. sweat glued the fabric of his shirt to his chest, and he marveled at the realization of your lust. hardened nipples, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. he could see you trembling, struggling to keep yourself together as you drowned in the sight of his sweat-covered figure. your mouth watered; your fingers fidgeted.

“come,” he told you, his voice coated with a sensuality unusual to him. “need your help.”

a faux plea. an encouragement to have you fall into his well-placed trap. when you grew closer, enough to witness the loose state of his pants, he allowed you to have a glimpse of his cock — tip red and leaking; shaft tortured around his bruising grip. he smirked, feeling it twitch as he shifted and offered you the entire view.

zoro called out your name, and you jumped as though a terrified deer caught in the woods. “yes?”

his self control slipped within the second, yet zoro would not dream to push himself past the boundaries of your consent.

“touch,” he rasped out, grunting as his thumb teased his tip.

you leaned forward, as though intoxicated; eyes dazed, chapped lips coated with your saliva. “it’s so big, zoro. i don’t—”

he threw himself at you, pinning you to the ground. his breathing pattern was ragged, and droplets of his saliva fell from his parted lips to your face. the second his hands wrapped around your wrists, zoro was moaning at the contact, the shared heat enough to cover his vision with black spots.

“shit,” he cursed, rutting his hips forward. you mewled, biting your lip, seeming embarrassed at the sound.

“zoro,” you moaned, squirming under his touch. “i won’t know what to do.”

he stopped, observing you as though you were a free-course meal. zoro licked his lips, daring to drag his nose into your chest, drunk in your scent. he wrapped his teeth around the strap of your bikini, glancing at you through his eyelashes, refusing to relieve the pressure around your wrists. “how so?”

your frustration surfaced; your hips rolling against his own. zoro’s pre-cum stained the fabric of your pants, and you bit down your lower lip, avoiding his gaze. “i’ve never had sex,” you admitted, pressing your cheek against the grass. “it won’t help you.”

his brain short-circuited. zoro trembled, threatening to come undone. the act of luring him to that haze of spores gave him the claim to your innocence, for he would be the one to maculate that inch of your body. he teased the waistband of your pants, drooling at the realization that you had no idea on how to behave whatsoever. the movement of your hips was erratic, inexperienced. your nails scratched against the back of his hands. your legs trembled; fought a losing battle against the weight of his own.

“you’re a virgin,” zoro breathed out in ecstasy, dragging his tongue down your stomach, never once daring to break eye-contact.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, voice broken due to both lust and despair. “i just want this to feel good to you. please, zoro, touch.”

he clicked his tongue, using both hands to lift your bikini top. the plant spores teased your nipples, and the broken sound that escaped past your tortured lips had him twitching. zoro’s tongue swirled around a pert bub, fingers pinching the other one as he used his other hand to force your pants down. he had no time for foreplay whatsoever, much too desperate due to the effects of the plant.

“it will be,” he promised, excited to ruin you.

his eyes glued at the pale-rose, lacy underwear of your panties. when he teased the strap, snapping it against your hip, you moaned. zoro’s own voice betrayed his desire when he tore the fabric and opened your folds with his fingers, exposing your cunt to the effects of the aphrodisiac. you were soaked wet; clit swollen; hole clenching around nothing. your essence dripped down on the grass; coated his nails. zoro refused to believe that had been all from the effect of the spores. you were so sensitive; so easy to arouse. he smirked, reveling in the sight of your disheveled state, forced into the aphrodisiac fog.

“can’t handle it,” he grunted, teasing your entrance with his tip. you teared up with a whimper, and zoro hissed as his cock stretched you out, walls swallowing him whole. “need to move.”

“please,” you begged, squirming. the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach all but exploded, and zoro started to pounce into you, thrusts fast-paced and rough. he slid with abnormal easiness, his tip numb due to the spores.

you struggled under his weight, and zoro snapped his hips as a response, gripping both your wrists with a single hand. his index reached your clit, rough digit drawing hectic, desperate circles. zoro constricted your movements and latched his lips around your breast, ignoring your sounds. he failed to see past the haze of pleasure, ignoring your sounds and squirming. you were but a ragdoll at his mercy, victimized by the restless pace of his thrusts.

“zoro!” you shouted, coughing thereafter for you had inhaled a considerable amount of spores in the process.

he bottomed out without warning, biting your nipple harshly. you followed-in-suit, yet he continued, the orgasm useless to satisfy his hunger. your cum mingled with his own, soaking his still-hardened cock as he persisted, ruthless and rough, his wrist growing numb due to the prolonged movement required to tease your clit. he felt you struggle, back arching and head moving to the sides. the instance thereafter, your hips moved in a failed attempt to match the pace of his thrusts — his chaste, inexperienced crewmate sheepishly baring fangs after the first orgasm.

zoro retreated his head off your breast with a pop, brushing his nose against your chin before biting on your lower lip. the aphrodisiac cloud began to lose its density, and he breathed it in; mouth slack as if to collect most of it before its disappearance.

“open it,” he demanded, collecting saliva during the process needed for your consent. the second the external world cleared, zoro spat on your mouth, forcing you to swallow the remaining spores that lingered on his tongue.

he pumped the previous round of his load inside before busting yet another one unannounced, glaring to where your bodies connected, enamored with the sight of his white-stained tip shoving itself in-and-out. zoro removed his finger from your clit, shoving it inside your mouth.

“cum,” he demanded, fucking his essence deeper, sensitive tip prodding at your walls.

without the aphrodisiacs numbing his flesh, zoro doubted he’d last longer — yet he refused to leave you hanging. your tongue stilled around his finger; a reminder that you had much to learn still. he teased your g-spot, his digit muffling the moan of your high, and zoro bit back a broken whimper when your essence drowned his tip.

zoro lowered his head to regain his breathing, attempting to swallow down the embarrassment at what he had done. the absence of spores, too, had him aware of your compromising position, and he released the grip on your wrists with a clear of his throat, fixing the top of your bikini.

“zoro?” you whispered, placing your hand above his own. “did it feel good?”

he dared face you, reading the lines of both bliss and hesitation in your expression. zoro smiled ever-so-slightly, unable to contain his adoration. “felt amazing.”

you cleared your throat, averting your glance as your fingers toyed with his. zoro was still sheathed inside, fearing the moment he’d need to retreat. he was lost in thought, struggling to find the proper words to convey his feelings. would you fancy an “i love you”? would it be too soon?

“can we do that more often?” you broke the silence, staring at him. “with a kiss next time?”

has he not kissed you yet? zoro softly guided your chin, pressing his lips against yours with a soft, victorious sigh. “can do it as many times as you want.”

you smiled, whimpering the second he removed his soft cock. perhaps a bit of recklessness could sometimes be rewarded.

— 🐈‍⬛ : a bit late today but time is a concept i’m sure it’s the twelfth day somewhere still!

[vunblr]

Foundations (#7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky)

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 6.2.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Previous Chapter

When Bucky returned to the apartment, Thomas was already waiting expectantly for him to serve dinner. He grabbed two plates, ladling generous portions of the stew she’d made before setting them down on the table.

He took his seat and watched as his little one dug in immediately, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth before pausing mid-chew. His eyes widened slightly. “This is so good, daddy” the kid announced through a mouthful, nodding to himself like he was confirming his own statement.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head as he took his own bite.

Damn.

Yeah. It was good.

She always cooked well, but tonight, for some reason, it tasted different. Maybe because of everything that happened. Maybe because his body was still trying to recover from the fucking elevator.

Later, much later, when Thomas was asleep, when the dishes were washed, and the apartment was silent except for the occasional creak of the old pipes, Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.

The way she had looked at him.

The way she had touched him.

The way she had let him touch her.

Steve had been right. Not imagining things, not making it up to spare his "poor, damaged friend." And that little part of him -the one that still had some self-esteem and hadn’t been completely swallowed by self-loathing and doubt- had been right, too.

But tomorrow, she would come again after picking up Thomas from kindergarten as always, like nothing had happened. Because that’s what they'd have to do. Pretend -or try to pretend- nothing had happened. At least until they had a chance to talk. It wasn’t a simple thing. Fuck, it was the furthest thing from simple.

Because if -if- they talked and decided on something… stable, something real, he couldn’t just throw that bomb at Thomas like it was nothing.

He was a child. His kid. And as his father, his well-being always had to come first.

No matter what Bucky wanted.

----

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, with her heart still thrumming with the ghosts of his fingers on her body.

It happened. She could barely believe it, but it did.

She thought it was just her. That she was the only one foolish enough to catch feelings, to overanalyze his stares, his comments, the subtle brushes of their bodies when sometimes wasn’t necessary. She chalked it up to loneliness, to proximity, to the way her heart had clung onto the first person in a long time who treated her well.

But she hadn’t imagined it. It was there. It had been there all along.

She turned onto her side, curling her fingers into the sheets. Then there was… the other thing. The news. The police station. The way he hadn’t denied a damn thing, telling her he would do it again.

Should she feel guilty?

Maybe.

But she didn’t.

The creep had it coming, and she couldn’t shake the warm, twisted sensation curling in her gut at the knowledge that Bucky had been the one to make sure of it. He hunted him down.

For her.

And that should probably unnerve her. Should probably make her question things, but instead, she felt safe.

Protected.

She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut.

Tomorrow, she would have to walk into that apartment like nothing had changed. Like they hadn’t been tangled up, kissing, grinding, and… like she hadn’t almost let him fuck her against an elevator wall. Because if it weren’t for that alarm, she would have.

But it had changed.

And there was no going back.

----

She arrived at the apartment as usual with Thomas in tow, chatting about something that had happened in kindergarten. When she opened the door Bucky was there, waiting, greeting the child with a small smile and a ruffle of his hair but his eyes, found hers the second she walked in. She set her bag down in the usual spot, and she felt the heat of his gaze linger on her longer than necessary. He looked away a second too late. Then cleared his throat.

Routine. They had a routine.

So she went to the kitchen, and he followed, under the excuse of getting some water. They moved around each other like always, but it wasn’t like always anymore.

She felt it In the brush of his fingers against hers when she handed him a glass. In the way his arm ghosted against her back when they crossed paths, close enough to feel the furnace heat radiating from his body. In the way he stood just a little too close when he reached for the tin of cookies in the cupboard, brushing his chest on her shoulder.

It was suffocating and intoxicating. And then there was the staring.

She caught him at one point while she was stirring the pot, gripping the back of the chair, jaw tense, eyes dark, trailing slowly from the curve of her neck down to where her sweater bunched at her hips.

It made her body prickle with awareness, impossible to focus on anything but the memory of his hands gripping her thighs, his mouth on hers, the way he ground against her until she could barely think.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” Thomas announced suddenly, hopping off his chair.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

The moment the child disappeared around the corner, his eyes flicked to the empty hallway, then to her.

A second later, he moved.

With the grace of a predator, he was on her, curling his fingers around her wrist, and tugging her toward the kitchen with a firm but controlled grip.

She barely had time to gasp before he caged her against the counter, pressing his hands flat on either side of her body, trapping her.

"Bucky-"

He didn’t let her finish.

His lips were on hers, rough, demanding, like he had been holding himself back all day and finally snapped.

She responded immediately, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking him closer as he angled his head, deepening the kiss. She whimpered when his vibranium hand slid up her side, grasping her hip.

“We need to talk about this,” he muttered against her lips.

“Y- yes,” she managed to reply between gasps.

His grip on her and the counter tightened as he ground against her, just once, enough to make her gasp into his mouth.

“Come early tomorrow, when the kiddo is in kindergarten” he rasped, his voice rough, needy.

She could only nod.

Thomas' voice echoed from the hallway.

"Buck-"

He was already stepping away, breathing heavily, with hands clenched into fists at his sides.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, with a strained voice. Then he turned, heading back to the dining table just as Thomas rounded the corner, leaving her against the counter, trying -and failing- to compose herself.

After a couple of minutes, his phone rang. Bucky exhaled sharply, ticking his jaw, and pulled the phone from his pocket. He checked the caller ID and answered.

A pause. His expression hardened further. “Understood. When?”

Another pause. His eyes flicked to her for a split second before landing on the floor. “You can’t expect me- no. Yes, she’s already- I… I’ll be there in an hour.”

The second Bucky hung up, Thomas’s little voice piped up, full of concern. “Do you have to go far?” perceptive.

Bucky sighed, pocketing his phone. “Yeah, buddy. Gotta take care of something urgent.”

“For how long?” he countered.

“Just a few days.” Bucky sighed.

Thomas’s brows knitted together. “Will you be back for the weekend?”

He hesitated just a second too long. “I don’t know yet, kiddo. But I’ll try.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy him. “Do you have to go? Can’t someone else do it?”

Bucky raked a hand through his hair before reaching out to ruffle Thomas’s. “I gotta help, pal. Just like I’d want someone to help me if I needed it.” That seemed to help. A little. “Listen, kid. I need to talk to her for a minute, okay? Just grown-up stuff.”

The child considered that for a moment before nodding. “Okay, Daddy.” He slid off his chair, grabbing a toy from the table before heading toward his room, but not before throwing one last glance over his shoulder as if double-checking that everything really was okay.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “How long?” she asked softly.

“Four, maybe five days,” he muttered, slipping the phone into his pocket. His gaze flicked to her, hesitating for a fraction of a second before continuing. “You good with that?”

It was the first time since she had started working there that he was leaving for various days. But they had agreed on this. She knew what she was signing up for.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “We’ll be fine.”

Bucky exhaled, raking a hand through his hair again before stepping closer, voice lower, rougher. “Look, I know we-” He cut himself off, glancing toward the hallway, then pressed his lips into a thin line, as if holding something back.

She swallowed, tightening her fingers around the dish towel.

His gaze flickered down to her hands, then back up to her face. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

A small, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “Yeah, well. Life’s funny that way.”

He huffed out a breath, shifting his weight like he was fighting some internal battle. Finally, he settled on: “When I get back, we figure this out.” He stated, walking toward his room.

----

When he emerged in full gear, bag slung over his shoulder, Thomas ran to hug him. "Do you really have to go?" the child’s lower lip wobbled slightly as he asked again, and Bucky sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I do, but listen, this time, you’re staying here instead of going to Uncle Steve’s or the tower.” That seemed to ease some of Thomas' anxiety, and his brows lifted in surprise. "You're gonna stay with her." He nodded toward her, offering his son a small smile.

Thomas blinked, then turned to her, and his worry gave way to excitement. “Really?”

She ruffled his hair. “Yep. Just you and me, kiddo.”

Bucky nodded. “That means you gotta behave and help her out. You’re the man of the house now, alright?”

Thomas’s chest puffed up slightly at that, and Bucky hugged him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

When he straightened his stance, she was already grabbing her jacket. “I’ll walk you down.”

He hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Alright.”

The elevator ride was quiet, thick with everything they hadn’t had the time -or the courage- to say. She glanced at him once and saw his fingers flexing around the strap of his bag, his jaw tight. Then, without warning, his arm shot out, pressing the stop button. The elevator shuddered to a halt.

She turned to him, heart thudding, parting her lips slightly at the heat in his gaze.

Bucky exhaled sharply, backing her up against the wall, caging her in with his body, dipping his head slightly as if debating what to say. “I left you a magnetic card inside the rice container. If anything happens, if you need anything, if you are scared, go to Stark Tower. That’ll get you in.”

She swallowed, then nodded, unconsciously gazing at his lips.

His fingers curled against the strap of his bag. "I wish things were different, doll." His voice was rough and thick. "I wanted-"

"I know." She reached up, cupping his stubbled cheek, and he leaned into her touch for just a second before closing the distance.

The bag hit the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. He was too busy drinking her in, pressing her against the elevator wall as his lips moved hungrily over hers. His vibranium hand cupped the back of her head, fingers fisting her hair, holding her there like he was afraid she’d disappear before he got back.

Five days. Too damn long.

Her fingers curled against his jaw, nails grazing his stubble, and he swallowed the little sound she made when he tilted her chin up, deepening the kiss. He was being selfish. He knew it. Taking what he could before duty called, before he had to step back into that other version of himself.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, “Bucky,” she murmured, and damn, if his name didn’t sound perfect on her lips.

He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to step away, as his muscles screamed in protest when he bent to grab his bag. When he straightened, his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, wiping away the tiniest smudge of spit-slicked lip-gloss.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

She nodded, licking her slightly swollen lips. “I know.”

With that, he pressed the button, and the elevator jerked back to life.

----

The days passed in a strange mix of normalcy, and the feeling of Bucky’s absence. Thomas was as cheerful as ever, filling the apartment with laughter and endless questions, but the hole was there. It was ridiculous, really, Bucky wasn’t even that talkative, wasn’t the type to hover or make himself the center of attention. And yet, without him, something was missing.

She tried not to dwell on it, focusing on Thomas, and keeping herself busy. But little things kept catching her off guard. Cooking felt different, and she caught herself making the amount of food he would eat with his insane metabolism, instead of adapting it to her appetite.

Then, one afternoon, her phone rang. It was Steve.

“Hey,” she greeted, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she stirred the pot on the stove.

"Hey, uh... listen," Steve started, and her stomach twisted. No. “Bucky’s fine.”

Her hand froze mid-stir.

“He’s fine,” he repeated, sensing her tension. “Took a couple of bullets, but nothing the serum won’t heal. He just- he needs rest, but he refused to stay at the medbay after the briefing.”

Her grip tightened around the spoon.

“What do you mean, bullets?”

“High caliber rounds. Pierced his suit. He’s healing, but it’s taking longer than usual.”

She exhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a second. “Where is he now?”

"He left the tower and is probably heading home. Just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you, Steve. I'll see he rests properly, don't you worry." She tried not to alert Thomas, serving him the chicken and rice and chatting normally with him about the bubble concoction they were going to prepare tomorrow.

----

The sound of the key turning in the lock made her pause, tightening the hold on the plate she was washing. The door swung open before she could reach it, and Thomas was already bolting across the apartment before she could stop him.

Bucky barely had time to drop his bag before the kid flung himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

“Daddy!”

She watched as Bucky caught him easily, staggering only slightly before securing the kid against his hip. His free hand came up to rub soothing circles over the boy’s back.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, buddy,” he murmured with exhaustion. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Thomas only clung tighter, little fingers fisting into the fabric of his henley. His shoulders shook slightly, and it didn’t take much to realize he was crying. Bucky sighed, shutting the door with his foot before making his way toward the kitchen, carrying Thomas like he weighed nothing. He had no idea how to handle this. He could patch up wounds, endure pain, and fight through gunfire, but comforting a crying child, his child, always left him feeling helpless. He pressed a kiss to Thomas’ temple, tightening his grip. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

When he stepped into the warm light, she caught a flicker of something on his face, an almost imperceptible wince as he shifted the boy in his arms.

He was dressed comfortably in a clean pair of black sweatpants and a henley, surely got a shower and a checkup before bolting home but his exhaustion and pain were obvious. The way his shoulders sagged just slightly, the way the corner of his mouth twitched when Thomas moved too suddenly against him.

Still, he offered her a small, tired smile. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.”

Both of them hesitated, suddenly aware of what had happened before he left.

Then, she reached out, briefly squeezing his forearm. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” he admitted, shifting his weight, careful not to jostle Thomas too much. “Actually, I’m starving. But don’t cook anything, just some sandwiches will do.”

She scoffed. “There’s chicken and rice. I ended up making a lot, so…”

Bucky groaned, and just that sound sent a ripple of warmth through her body. “That sounds so good, doll.” The endearment slipped out naturally, but Thomas didn’t seem to register it.

“Alright,” she said, moving toward the counter. “Go lay in your bed, and I’ll bring everything in a pinch.”

He just looked at her. “I’ll just sit here and-”

“This is not a democracy, Bucky,” she cut in smoothly, leveling him with a look. Then she turned to Thomas, softening her tone. “Baby, will you do me a favor and take Daddy to his room? Maybe help him with his boots?”

Thomas nodded eagerly. “Come on, Daddy. You gotta listen to her.”

Bucky huffed, twitching his lips like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just muttered, “Little traitor,” and turned toward the bedroom.

She smirked to herself as she turned back to the stove, reheating the food.

A few minutes later, with the tray carefully balanced in her hands, she nudged the door open with her foot.

He was stretched out against the pillows, with one arm draped over his eyes, while Thomas sat cross-legged beside him, chatting happily.

She set the tray on the nightstand and nudged his thigh gently. “Eat.”

He peeked up at her, exhausted but amused. “So bossy.”

She ignored the comment, crossing her arms as she assessed him. “Do you need help?” Her voice was carefully neutral, not wanting to say too much with Thomas still in the room.

Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. “Steve called you, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “On your way here.”

He muttered a curse under his breath.

She hesitated, then carefully asked, “Where?” She didn’t say how bad, but the implication was clear.

“Shoulder and thigh,” he admitted reluctantly.

She huffed. “More reason to stay in bed, then.”

“I can sit up on my own, y’know.”

“Will you manage to-”

His glare cut her off. “You’re not feeding me like a baby. I’m very capable of doing it myself.” As I have been for years.

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Alright, I assume you’ll sit on your own too, then.” She took a step back toward the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

And with that, she disappeared, leaving him grumbling into his rice.

----

She sorted through the laundry basket, folding clothes into neat piles, and smoothing out wrinkles with the flat of her palm. Every so often, she glanced at the clock, waiting for the right moment. When she figured that he might have emptied his plate, she made her way to his room, stepping lightly.

Thomas was curled up beside him, with one small hand resting on Bucky’s chest, and his tiny face relaxed in sleep. Bucky, on the other hand, looked exhausted but awake, flicking his gaze to her the moment she entered.

She kept her voice low. “Want another helping?”

His answer came in the form of a slow nod, “And… maybe a piece of bread too.”

She returned a few minutes later, with a plate balanced in one hand, and a folded blanket in the other. She placed the plate on the nightstand, then leaned down to drape the blanket over Thomas, tucking it around him carefully.

As she straightened, her eyes landed on Bucky again, and she sighed. “Stubborn man.”

Bucky blinked at her, confused, until she grabbed a cushion and circled the bed to his side.

“Come on,” she murmured, “Lift yourself a little more.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though he didn’t stop her when she slid a hand behind his back, helping him as he shifted.

“You are not fine.” She gave him a pointed look before shoving the cushion behind him, making sure it gave him proper support.

He let out a small huff, but the fight had already drained out of him. It wasn’t just about the cushion, and they both knew it.

Her eyes flicked down to his henley, her lips twitching. “Besides, your shirt ratted you out.”

Bucky frowned, looking down. Sure enough, greasy stains dotted the fabric where he had spilled food earlier. Shit. He had been careful picking up the rice grains and the occasional cube of chicken, or at least he thought he had.

Grumbling a low fine, he settled more comfortably against the pillow as she handed him the plate.

She hovered for a second, like she was about to say something, then shook her head. “I’ll let you eat. I should get back to the laundry.”

Before she could step away, his fingers brushed against hers. “…Stay?”

It was soft. A little unsure.

She had missed him. God, she had missed him.

She didn’t hesitate before perching on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. “Alright,” she said, gently. “I’ll stay with you.”

Bucky took a few bites in silence before she finally asked, “How are you feeling?” Then, before he could deflect, she quickly added, “And no lying. I know you act tough in front of Thomas, but he’s asleep now.”

He hesitated, dropping his gaze to his plate. “It’s been a long time since I got shot,” he admitted. “Guess I forgot how much it could hurt. But the serum will take care of it.” He shrugged, scooping up another bite.

She hummed, watching him closely. “Still,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Just because it’ll heal faster doesn’t mean you should ignore it.”

Bucky scoffed softly, chewing with unnecessary focus. “I’m not ignoring it.”

She arched a brow. “You told me once your metabolism burns through medications too fast. So, I assume no painkillers or anti-inflammatories are doing much right now. Which means you have to rest. Tonight, Steve told me-”

“Steve talks too much.” His voice was dry.

She sighed and shot him a pointed look. “He worries about you. And he’s right.” Her voice softened. “You have to take it easy, alright?”

Bucky swallowed, his throat worked around the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. He had missed her. More than he wanted to admit. And now, here she was, sitting beside him, fussing over him, making sure he was comfortable, and staying, even though she didn’t have to. He lifted another bite to his mouth, chewing slowly, just to focus on something else. “I’ll rest,” he said eventually, quieter now. “You’ll be here, anyway.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’ll be around.”

And somehow, Bucky knew she wasn’t just talking about tonight.

----

Since Bucky was already home, she settled into Thomas’ bed, which was substantially better than the couch. At some point in the night, a noise in the kitchen startled her awake, a faint rattle of metal against wood, followed by a muffled curse.

Her heart stuttered before her brain recognized the timbre, Bucky. She exhaled slowly as she rolled over, and reached for her phone. 4 a.m.

Frowning, she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She grabbed the wool cardigan she had draped over the chair and pulled it on over her nightdress, padding out into the hall on silent feet.

A quick glance inside Bucky’s room showed Thomas still curled up against his dad’s pillow, sleeping soundly.

But in the kitchen, she found Bucky squatting, stacking pots and pans back into the cabinet while swearing.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered harshly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. He barely had time to lift his head before she was right there, grabbing his good arm, and tugging at him to stand up. "You got shot in the thigh and you’re squatting at this hour doing God knows what? Is this your idea of resting?"

For a second, he looked like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, but he recovered fast, smoothing his expression into something unreadable.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna wake you." His voice was low, scratchy from sleep deprivation. "I just wanted to heat some milk, but I can’t find the damn steel jar-"

She blinked. "And you're not microwaving it because…?"

"It's not the same," he muttered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She arched a brow.

"The texture’s different," he elaborated begrudgingly. "And I’ve always heated it this way, so…"

Ah. Perks of being born in the ‘20s, she supposed.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. Just sit down and I’ll find it for you."

He didn’t move.

“Bucky.” Her tone was sharp. "Go sit on that chair or I swear to God, I-"

Before she could finish, his hands were suddenly on her waist, gripping firmly, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her breath hitched as he effortlessly placed her on the counter, stepping into the space between her thighs, crowding her in.

“You were saying?” he murmured against her ear, his voice was a low rasp of challenge and something else.

A shiver ghosted down her spine.

Oh, fuck.

She swallowed hard, and her pulse jumped under the heat of his mouth.

“You know,” he murmured, brushing his lips on the shell of her ear, “you’re pretty bossy for being the nanny.” His grasp on her hips became firmer, as his fingers pressed into the soft fabric of her nightdress and her flesh. “And last time I checked, you’re not my mom, so-”

He tilted his head, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the column of her neck, pausing just at her pulse point to nip gently at her skin.

Her fingers curled against the edge of the counter, gripping the cool surface as she tried to remember how words worked.

"Where does that leave you, huh?" His voice was a low, rough drawl against her skin.

Where was she standing?

Her mind scrambled for something -anything- to latch onto. "I-um. I'm just worried because Steve-"

"Fuck Steve."

He tilted her chin up, guiding her gaze to his, and damn it all, his eyes were too much. Dark and heated and full of intent.

“Tell me, doll,” he murmured, stroking his thumb on the curve of her jaw. “What’s going on here? We owed ourselves a little chat… and damn if I don’t think it’s time for that.”

She exhaled shakily, feeling like the ground beneath her had been pulled away. This wasn’t how she imagined this conversation if she had ever dared to imagine it at all.

His body was warm between her legs, his hands were still gripping her hips, and she could feel the tension radiating from his body. Expectant. Waiting.

And yet, she hesitated.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel the same. God, she did. But putting it into words, exposing herself… that was terrifying.

Her silence must have stretched too long because his face shifted, and something guarded crept into his expression. He exhaled through his nose, tightening his jaw.

He should be ashamed of himself.

This wasn’t how he was raised. This wasn’t how a man should treat a woman, coaxing her, pressuring her to speak first, to lay her feelings bare before he had the nerve to do the same.

His old self would’ve been mortified.

But that version of him, the one who had confidence, who knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to navigate a woman’s affections without second-guessing himself, died in Austria.

What was left was a man who had spent decades as a weapon, and then, after that, just trying to survive the modern world carrying the weight of what he’d done. Who didn’t know how to handle something good without overthinking it to death. He could still hear himself, the desperate edge in his own voice just moments ago.

"Tell me what this is. Tell me what you want."

Like a goddamn interrogation.

"Sorry," he muttered, stepping back slightly, though his hands lingered on her hips like he couldn’t make himself let go. “Just… ah, this is so pathetic. Let me-” He took a breath, and she saw it, the moment he forced himself to speak, to be vulnerable. “I like you. A lot.” He swallowed hard. “Hell, since the first day I saw you at the kindergarten, I thought you were pretty.”

She felt warmth crawl up her neck, a slow burn spreading across her cheeks. She wasn’t used to hearing things like that. Not with such raw honesty.

"And… and I thought I’d never see you again," he continued, "until Steve pulled that stunt at a time when I desperately needed help. And then… then things got worse for me.”

She blinked, confused. “Worse?”

He huffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Worse. Because it wasn’t just about finding you attractive. So fucking attractive.”

Her heart slammed against her chest.

“You became indispensable at home. You made this a home." His fingers flexed slightly against her. "You put warmth in here, in me. Stirred things that have been missing in my life since the war. You are kind… and you make me want things that I shouldn’t.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and something pained flickered across his face. “I shouldn’t, because of what… because of the families I destroyed, because of what I did.”

His voice cracked slightly, and she felt her own breath stutter.

"And then… you’re the fucking nanny and-" He let out a shaky exhale, tightening his grip before loosening again. "And this works. My son loves you. And I have no right to rob him of that if you-"

She didn’t let him finish.

Her fingers brushed softly against his lips. Stopping the spiral before it could consume him.

Bucky froze.

It had all poured out of him before he could stop it, the words scrapped past his throat, and now, now she was just looking at him.

Wide eyes. Lips slightly parted.

His chest clenched.

Shit. Fuck.

He shouldn’t have said all that. He should have-

She tilted her head slightly, dragging her fingers in the faintest touch down his chin, ten rested it on his chest.

He inhaled sharply.

"Don’t," she finally whispered.

Bucky frowned, furrowing his brows. "Don't what?"

"Don't pull away. You deserve to want things.”

He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that until now. Her hand was warm against his chest, her touch so casual, like it belonged there. Like she belonged there.

And then-

"Do you take me for someone who would do what we did in the elevator, what we have been doing since then if I didn’t have feelings for you?" she asked softly.

He shook his head before he could even think.

"There is your answer."

And just like that, he was done for.

His fingers flexed against the fabric of her nightdress like he needed to hold on to something. "Ok... ok. I don't know how people do this kind of thing nowadays. We said what we wanted to say, and before, it was just enough to-"

"Bucky" she chuckled, interrupting his rambling. She felt like she was in high school all over again "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

It was such a simple question. One that made his brain stutter because, Christ, when was the last time he was allowed to be just a man and not a soldier who was drafted, not a puppeteered weapon, not a father trying to hold his shit together?

“…Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” she murmured, as her fingers traced light patterns along his chest. "Or... what term do you prefer? Beau? Sweetheart?" She asked, teasing.

Bucky huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Beau does feel right to me,” he admitted. “But… I gotta move on at some point, right?” He met her gaze, and saw something soft lingering there. “Boyfriend it is.”

Her smile widened. “Good choice.”

He exhaled, like some invisible weight had lifted from him, then smirked. “Glad you approve, sweetheart.”

"Well,” she started. “Now that we had 'the talk' would you be a good boy and sit on the chair while I warm your milk?"

He lifted a brow at the unintentional innuendo, and the corner of his mouth twitched with intent.

“Oh, my God.” Heat flooded her face.

He just grinned, shameless. “M’simply following the analogy, sweetheart.”

She swatted his shoulder with the nearest dish towel, face still burning. “Oh, you are terrible!”

He caught her wrist before she could pull away in a firm but gentle grip. He turned it over, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the skin of her pulse point. His gaze lifted to hers, dark and unreadable.

“Oh, doll,” his voice dropped lower, rough with promise. “You have no idea how terrible I can be.”

And then, his free hand slid up her thigh, gripping just above her knee as he stepped fully between her legs, fitting against her perfectly. She gasped as his lips crashed into hers, all slow-burning desire and restrained hunger.

Her arms wound around his shoulders, threading her fingers into his hair, tugging until a growl rumbled in his chest. His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.

When he dragged his mouth away, it was only to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, and down the column of her throat. His stubble scraped deliciously against her skin, sending heat pooling low in her stomach.

“Bucky,” she gasped, tilting her head back as his teeth grazed over her pulse.

“Hmm?” His voice was a low rasp, lips teasing just beneath her ear as his hands wandered, pressing his fingertips into her soft flesh.

She didn’t have an answer. Didn’t know what she wanted to say.

Her breath hitched as his hands slid up, cupping her breasts over the thin fabric of her nightdress. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and the touch was so light it made her shudder.

"Fuck," he muttered against her throat, still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. "No bra? You tryin’ to kill me, sweetheart."

She arched into his hands, gripping his shoulders for balance. “Why would I sleep with it?” she whispered, teasing, even as her voice trembled.

Bucky exhaled sharply, a hot breath against her collarbone. “Fair point,” he muttered, as his hands kneaded and his thumbs circled, pressed, and flicked.

She gasped, tilting her head back, giving him more space to kiss, bite, devour.

His mouth latched onto her pulse point, sucking just enough to make her squirm. His hands left her breasts to wander lower, curling his fingers around the hem of her nightdress, teasing the bare skin underneath.

Her legs pressed around his waist, and she felt him, hard and big under the sweatpants, pressed right where she needed him.

“Will you tell me to stop?” he rasped, as he rested his forehead against hers.

She swallowed hard, digging her nails into his back as her eyes flicked toward the hallway. “I should… you need to rest, remember?” she tried, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

Bucky chuckled. “Not to be presumptuous, doll, but the limits of what my body can or can't do while injured have been tested decades ago. And believe me, two shots ain't enough to talk me out of this.”

Her stomach twisted, and heat pooled deep in her pussy as his fingers teased at the hem of her nightdress again, but she still managed to stammer, “What about Thomas? What if he wakes up, what if he comes in?”

She barely had time to finish the sentence before she let out a quiet yelp as Bucky’s strong arms lifted her effortlessly. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, as he carried her toward Thomas’s bedroom door, nudging it open with his foot before stepping inside.

With one smooth motion, he set her down on the bed, then reached back and grabbed a chair from the desk. Before she could say a word, he wedged it firmly under the doorknob, locking them in.

“If he wakes up, which I doubt,” he murmured, standing tall as his fingers curled around the back of his henley, “we’ll have time to make ourselves decent… and think of an excuse.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira @technicallytinyheart @put-trash-here @chinggay85-blog @dumblani @chuiisi @calwitch @civilbucky @neyr100 @tanyaherondale @theflowerswillbloom @stars4birdie @soberbabes @greatmistakes @littlesuniee @casey1-2007 @escapefromrealitylol @thriving-n-jiving @vxllys @hi172826 @imaginexred @stormy-stardust @rattyfishrock @yes-ilovetowrite @seraphinapix

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ( a collection of date locations and things to do with your date. feel free to adjust the prompts as needed! do not add to the list. )

a relaxing date

quiet night. our muses snuggle up together beneath a blanket on the couch or in bed and listens as the other muse reads a book to them. bookshop. our muses go to a bookshop and pick out books for each other to read once they get back home. console. our muses play a casual and fun game on a console together, requiring teamwork and strategy. park. our muses take a relaxing walk through the park together to talk and get to know each other better. spa. our muses go to a spa to treat themselves to a day of relaxation and pampering. movie. our muses go to the local cinema to watch a movie together, where they can snack on popcorn and be transported to another world. beach. our muses go to a warm sandy beach, where they can soak up the sun and dip their toes into the sea for a swim or a splash.

a fun date

pins. our muses go to a bowling alley together, where they can play a casual game or aim to have the highest score. wheels. our muses go roller skating together, where they can race one another or skate hand in hand for a more relaxed date. rink. our muses go ice skating together, where they can show off their moves or wobble on the ice and tumble in unison. swim. our muses go swimming together, where they can playfully splash one another, go down the slides or brave the wave pool. shopping. our muses go to the mall together, where they can shop to their hearts content and find a new thing to take home. ride. our muses go horse riding together, either separately or together, and enjoy the sights atop their horses. hole-in-one. our muses go to a crazy golf course, where they must overcome obstacles and get the ball to its end destination. laser. our muses go to a laser tag event and test out their stealth and aim as they try to hunt one another down to tag them. paintball. our muses go paintballing together and form up to be a formidable team or test their skills against each other. rodeo. our muses attempt the mechanical rodeo bull, where one muse must hang on for dear life or try to stay on together.

a delicious date

restaurant. our muses go to a nice restaurant, dressed up and treated to vintage wine and delicious food. fast food. our muses go to a fast food place, where there are no expectations and the company is all that matters. café. our muses go to a homely little café, where they can enjoy a warm drink and homemade cakes. truck. our muses go to a local food truck, where greasy but delicious food is served up right in front of them. homemade. our muses have a home-cooked meal, where one muse cooks the other a delicious and intimate meal. baking. our muses bake something together, sending flour everywhere and bringing out the playfulness of one another. picnic. our muses go on a little picnic together, a quiet patch of grass beneath the warm sun. cold treat. our muses find an ice cream truck and decide to treat themselves to a cold treat. sweet treat. our muses go to a desert place where they can get waffles, crêpes and brownies.

a nature date

zoo. our muses take a trip to the zoo where they can admire all the various walks of life and get the special privilege to feed an animal. wings. our muses visit a butterfly sanctuary, where the air is filled with colourful wings and life flutters all around them. feed. our muses visit a park with a bag of seed on hand to feed the local wildlife, getting to see them up close and personal. sea life. our muses visit and aquarium together, where they can stand beneath a tunnel of water and see sharks and fish swim overhead. sun. our muses find a clearing or a good vantage point to watch the sunrise or sunset together. stars. our muses lay beneath the stars together, where they can try to catch a glimpse of shooting star or point out the constellations. garden. our muses visit a botanical garden, where vibrant colours and fragrant flowers bloom.

an entertaining date

play. our muses attend a play at a theatre, where music fills the halls and actors perform on stage. opera. our muses attend an opera hall, where classical music takes people back to a different age. ballet. our muses attend a ballet showing, where elegance and grace captivates the audience. sport. our muses attend a sports event with the best seats in the house, where they can cheer on their favourite team and have a beer or two. concert. our muses visit a concert together, where the crowd raves to the music and joins in harmony. amusement park. our muses go to an amusement park, where they can relax on a log ride or risk it all with a daring ride. night out. our muses go to a bar where the drinks never end and the party goes well into the night. prize. our muses visit the arcades where they can try to win as many prizes as they can or jump into a stimulation game. old games. our muses have a fun and competitive go at old board games, where it could bring them together or test the strength of their relationship.

an educational date

pottery. our muses attending a pottery class where one muse helps the other to make a pot, hands on. paint. our muses attending a painting class, where they can gift one another their painting or paint one another. dance. our muses attend a dance class, where they can learn a few new moves and share an intimate moment. axe. our muses go to an axe throwing class, where a professional teaches them how to throw axes. museum. our muses go to the museum, where they can learn the earth's history, admire the artwork or venture into space. castle. our muses visit an old castle, where history lingers and people can peer into the past.

a medieval date

renfair. our muses attend a renfair event, dressed up for the occasion and enjoy the festivities. joust. our muses attend a medieval restaurant where they can dine, watch knights joust and have a medieval experience. ball. our muses attend a grand ball, where couples take to the dance floor and let the music flow through them. masquerade. our muses attend a masquerade ball, where masks shrouds faces and scandals thrive. feast. our muses attend a grand feast, where jolly laughter and mountains of food await.

an adventurous date

climb. our muses attend an indoor climbing place or brave the mountains, to put their strength and resilience to the test. camp. our muses take to the wild and set up camp in the woods, putting their survival skills to the test. sail. our muses go on a cruise together, where they can kick back and enjoy a nice cocktail on the ocean waves. lake. our muses brave the brisk waters and go skinny dipping together for some naughty fun. rapids. our muses go canoeing in the treacherous waters of a fast running river sky diving. our muses take to the skies and go sky diving, either together or side by side, and experience the world from above. slope. our muses go skiing or snowboarding together, soaring past the snow covered trees and gaining air with ramps.

an unconventional date

heist. our muses go on a more unconventional date and go on a heist together to bring home a new, shiny and expensive addition. fight. our muses attend a fighting match where adrenaline is high and cheers fill the room. rage. our muses go to a rage room and smash things together, letting out pent up rage and stress in union. graveyard. our muses visit a graveyard at night, where they can try to scare one another with a scary story or visit the dead. ghosts. our muses try to find the paranormal in an abandoned place, where spirits are said to linger. hunting. our muses go hunting together, but what exactly will they be hunting? escape. our muses go to an escape room, where they will need to work together if they ever stand a chance of getting out. sacrifice. our muses perform a ritual with the intention of summoning something, but is it for fun or is it something all the more sinister?

[mikimakiboo]

Draz AU - Rabbit Stew

Guess what gang, Lord Noot is back

And you got to chose the theme of the drabble ! :)

You chosed bunny :)

:)

Lord Noot stumbled, dragging a heavy weight up the stairs and looking back at the front door regularly to make sure it remained open as to not waste time waiting for someone to come to his aid if it closed. When he finally reached the top he took a few seconds to get a better grip before excitedly trotting inside the castle with his prize between his teeth.

The dragon went straight to the kitchen, hearing the noise of the pans as Horror was preparing to cook dinner. He trotted next to him and tried to catch his attention by putting a paw on his leg.

- Ouch- your claws, Noot, Horror complained as he looked down, oh, what'cha got there buddy ?

Lord Noot wagged his tail, letting the fat rabbit he had just hunt fall at the skeleton's feet. Horror kneeled down to take a look at the animal.

- Well, that's a big one, you hunt it yourself ? He pat Noot's head, hmm.. wonder if I could make a stew with it ?

Horror thought for a moment, getting up with the rabbit in hand and Noot running around his legs. He inspected the body.

- Seems healthy... what do you say, bud' ? We make a stew for the others ?

Noot barked, jumping against the cabinet door, spining excitedly. Horror chuckled seeing him so enthusiastic.

- I think I can take that for a yes.

He put the rabbit on the counter and gathered everything he needed to prepare it, all under the watchful eye of their little dragon...

The stew was ready not too long after, and soon everyone was sitting at the table enjoying the food. Lord Noot was sitting on his high chair, his bowl with his own serving of stew in front of him, but he wasn't eating for now, looking at everyone.

- This rabbit's good, I didn't even know we bought some, Dust complimented.

- We didn't, Horror answered.

The others looked up.

- You... stole it ? Cross asked, confused.

- Noot hunt it.

Dinner stopped, the three skeletons turning their gaze towards the little dragon staring at them. His tail wagged.

- ... So that's why he's been staring at us like that since we started eating, Killer figured.

Cross looked down at the meat in his plate. Was eating the prey of a dragon symbolic ? Did it mean something for them ? Did Noot own them ? Honestly, Noot already owned them more then they owned him anyway, though they didn't consider it owning him, as they weren't sure one could really own a dragon in the first place, so it probably wouldn't change much things.

Dust reached out to give Lord Noot a little scratch behind the ear, smiling as he saw him press his head against his hand.

- Well, good job, buddy, the food's good, he congratulated.

Noot purred, happy his gift had been accepted by his herd, and finally started eating too, now that everyone had been fed.

He had to admit, the rabbit was good. He really did a good job.

[twoflowers]

Sentimentality - Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: The newest addition to the Straw Hat crew grapples with their easy affection, and especially with the attention from their doting cook.

Tags: SFW, character study, slight slash, scientist reader, no use of Y/N, female reader. First impressions, nakamaship.

Word count: 1397

Special thanks to @mere-mortifer for the encouragement to post my Sanji fics. I love your Sanji very much.

This one isn't very slash-y and honestly feels a bit incomplete to me, but I'm obsessed with this man in a psychological way and need to post at least something, even if it captures only an ounce of my insanity about him and the crew.

Also: thinking about making this into more of a series (as the reader is kind of based on an OC of mine...!). Please, please, Sanji fans: give me any and every prompt you can imagine.

__

Sentimentality

Every morning you settle into the golden-glowing comfort of the breakfast table: the press of arms against arms, the jostling of bodies to the time of the waves, the hard wooden bench softened despite it all. 

The captain is not at all what you expected. He’s a kid, and a downright grabby one at that. You have to slap his rubbery hands away from your plate at every meal, and if you don’t catch him, Nami always does.

You sit next to Chopper, whose tiny, furry body is so very warm. He likes to plan the day over breakfast, still thrilled to have another scientist on board. You watch him nibble at pancakes with his blocky teeth (it really is hard not to coo over him, but he has his dignity to uphold, so you restrain yourself!) and sip his milk and grin, white mustache and all. Robin leans over with a napkin to clean Chopper’s mouth, and he fusses, but concedes. Some of his drawings hang on the fridge, secured by magnets. You think of siblings with a pang in your chest every time you see them.

Roronoa Zoro is inexplicably softer than you imagined. There’s something about the curve of his cheeks, the careless sprawling stance, the way his nose whistles lightly while he sleeps. He barks laughter at Luffy, leans on his swords like they’re children, even smells better than Nami likes to say.

Robin terrified you at first, but you quickly became a sucker for her mellow gaze and old book smell. Besides, educated women are always of interest to you. Nami and Robin are incredible, always encouraging: proof that somehow, someway, a woman who has been chased out of her old life and hunted by the darkest parts of herself can uncurl and be seen. 

The first few sleepless nights aboard the Going Merry, you stared at the ceiling, heart pounding at the vulnerability of sharing a room. You are a scientist. You’ve long denounced the need for sentimentality, though Luffy manages to wring a few spare drops out of you every day. How could you have accounted for the love that permeates every board of this ship? How have you gone your entire life wondering if belonging like this could exist, only to find it among a notorious pirate crew- a crew who, really, is more bumbling than you could have imagined? How can Luffy stroll into any place- town, restaurant, heart- and break down every wall without a second thought?

And the cook… 

You have to look away from him sometimes. The first time he made a meal for you, he sank to a kneel to present it, like he was a servant and you were a queen who could take his head at any moment, and have it willingly. You took the plate with shaking hands and nodded a thank you. When he stood back up, there was a bit of dust on the knee of his fine-pressed pants. You kept your eyes on it as he fluttered around, crooning to the women and brusquely serving the men. What were you supposed to make of that?

Sanji squeezes your heart like it’s an old rag. The way he remembers your favored flavor profiles makes your toes curl. You’re not even sure you’ve managed to smile at him yet, even a month after joining the crew, because he throws you so off-balance you’re left feeling like you’ve been thrust into a hurricane without any solid structure to grip onto.

His… whatever it is- admiration, loyalty, devotion, all of the above and more- has only gotten stronger in the past month. He floats into the lab as if on a cloud to tell you he made you a snack and left it outside, mindful of the potential for contamination. He tells you how lovely your eyes look that day, and every day- that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and that he lives to serve you.

“A snack for you is outside, miss,” he says today, like he’s itching to bow. “I prepared carrot cake and spiced milk for you, with turmeric, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

You side-eye him from your bench, pipette paused in midair. Miss, miss, miss. Every time he says it you’re left breathless. As usual, you nod and mutter a thank you, still focusing on your work, lest you do something stupid like offering him your hand to kiss or backing him into a wall to taste his neck.

He usually leaves right away, but you don’t hear the door close today. When you look back at Sanji, he’s beaming, eyes practically heart-shaped. 

“May I make anything else for you?”

“No. That will suffice.” Something in your chest is shouting at you for being so formal with him. 

“I like carrot cake,” you add.

Sanji’s smile turns tremulous and melty. A hand moves to cover his heart. “I will keep that in mind. And I don’t wish to disturb you- your work is very important- but it will be best eaten soon, while it’s still warm.”

You surprise yourself by setting down your pipette and moving to the sink to wash your hands. Sanji is still lingering at the door as you scrub between your fingers and under your nails, similar to the way he washes his after handling raw meat. You take extra time drying off, the feeling of him behind you prickling at your neck. 

In the hallway, the cake and milk are placed carefully on a table. The mug is to the top right of the plate, handle tilted at the perfect angle for you to grab. A dainty dessert fork leans against the plate, next to two sprigs of mint forming a heart.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” you say. “It looks perfect.”

“I can make you as many as you’d like, all with love. Please. It’s my pleasure.”

You lift the fork, and Sanji leans forward with the eagerness of a child witnessing a magic trick. When you take a bite of the cake, his visible eye widens.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Sanji.”

Sanji lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, miss. I can make you anything your heart desires, provided I have the ingredients. And if I don’t, I will make sure to procure them as soon as we make landfall. And if you want them before that, I'll swim to shore.” 

Why does the man have such puppy-dog eyes? You know with certainty that he would do anything you asked of him, or else die trying, and you’ve hardly spoken to him. There’s a string of tension in his body when he’s around you, loosened slightly now that you’ve complimented his food. Is he just that eager to please?

You have met many men happy to go through the motions of wooing you for one reason alone, but something about Sanji tells you that he would be at your beck and call for the rest of your life, even if you never said “thank you” again.

You nod, moving to try the spiced milk, which is, of course, perfect. 

“I noticed that you like cinnamon, so I tweaked the recipe to add more.” He sounds hopeful. “You don’t find the turmeric overpowering?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, lowering the drink. “It’s good. You’re very… perceptive.”

“Of course! I pay special attention to my lovely ladies.”

You’re included in this group, somehow. Why does that make you want to push and prod at him, despite the measured indifference you’ve culminated?

“Sanji,” you say, and he snaps to attention.

“Yes?”

“Could I have some marmalade with this?”

This is the first time you’ve requested anything from him. A broad smile spreads across his face. 

“Right away.” He falls into a bow before walking down the hallway. When he’s out of view, you hear him begin to run, legs pounding the wooden floor strong enough to rattle the pictures frames on the walls. 

You pluck a sprig of mint from the cake, grinding it between your teeth. It’s refreshing, new, with a bit of a kick. You smile to yourself, imagining Sanji in the kitchen, carefully scooping marmalade into a dainty dish, heart thrumming with the thrill of receiving an order from his newest object of affection.

[educatedsimps]

— bonus headcanons, iwaizumi hajime

≪ back to fics masterlist

iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader

a/n: idea dump based on this iwa request (main fic) so this is basically just everything i wanted to put into the fic but i kinda lost the energy and the bandwidth to write everything up to the standard i wanted so now this exists HAHA hope u like this and tysm for reading! :)

headcanons under the cut!

You remember asking him once, "Hajime, why do you do that?"

And he replied "Do what?" with deadass the most confused look on his face.

"Kiss my wrists and palms all the time," You clarified.

"Oh," He stopped. "Yeah, why do I do that-"

ok so basically, Iwa finds the wrists a very delicate part of the body, and given his experience as a volleyball player, and the nature of his job, he takes extra special care of them.

he remembers his coaches always reminding him and his teammates not to injure their wrists during training, which translates to "YOU BETTER HAVE GOOD FORM WHILE SPIKING, SERVING AND SETTING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

anyway, i think he started noticing wrists when he was in high school, especially since he was seijoh's ace and had to use his wrists a lot to spike. he probably injured his wrist(s) once and has always listened to his coaches ever since.

now that he's a professional volleyball trainer he makes sure that his athletes don't injure their wrists either.

so i think all of this adds to why he pays extra attention to your wrists especially.

bonus if your job requires you to use or rely on your wrists a lot, eg. musician (like me), athletes, surgeon, author, artist, etc... idk.

YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME THAT HE DOESN'T GIVE THE BEST 👏 FKING 👏 MASSAGES 👏 ON EARTH 👏 and at the end of the massage he'll always kiss your hands and wrists and idk why but it just feels so chivalrous. like ofc it feels intimate when you hold his face in your hands and he plants kisses on your wrists/palms and but sometimes it just feels so chivalrous and gentlemanly ykwim?

OMG WHEN HE PROPOSES TO YOU like after he slides the ring onto your finger AND THEN KISSES YOUR WRIST/HAND AND IT FEELS LIKE YOUR HEART COULD EXPLODE 'cause i know mine would actually explode if he did that.

anyway some instances i thought of adding to the fic (but couldn't cuz i don't have the ability or capacity to write them out well) include:

waking up in the morning together or when you hold his face and kiss his forehead (these two are in the main fic linked above!)

when you're cuddling on the couch after a long day and just watching a show together or napping. if you're laying on him and touch his face he'll 100% kiss your wrists/palms

when he hugs you from behind and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair (like when you're cooking dinner together or something) and he'll pull your hand down to kiss your wrist

when you hug him with your arms around his neck and he catches your wrist before you pull away

when you shower together (SFW, DON'T WORRY) and you're facing each other and he's tilting his head / bending down while you wash his hair or massage his scalp and when you're done washing it he'll give your wrists a gentle kiss before returning the favour

BONUS: when he holds your face in his hands and you decide to give him a taste of his (very sweet) medicine. you’d twist your head to kiss his wrist and then his palm and he'd be BLUSHING because he's usually the one who does that AND HE'S SO CUTE he's like, "hey... you can't do that. i'm supposed to be the one doing that for you." while blushing and smiling and getting a lil shy and everything and HE'S JUST TOO CUTE FOR MY HEART 😭😭💕

a/n: ok that's all for the iwa brainrot ... i'm kidding, the iwa brainrot will never end. THANKS FOR READING THOUGH and thank you anon for sparking my two week long obsession with iwa once again

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 1

Summary:

Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.

But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.

Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...

Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner. 

Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days. 

Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her. 

Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal. 

Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return. 

Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello. 

Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face. 

The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.

And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her. 

By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. 

Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained. 

He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her. 

Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold. 

Predatory. 

“Hey there…can I get a table?” 

Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede. 

Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.

Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.

He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements. 

Even sitting down, he was huge. 

Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting. 

But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her. 

He looked even more handsome when he smiled—

“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was? 

Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”

“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice. 

To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze. 

“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”

Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.

She quite liked it. 

“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”

“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?” 

“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”

“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Call me Cooper.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”

She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic. 

“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”

“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”

“Ice, please.”

Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”

She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.

“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked. 

“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.

The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills. 

Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.

Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”

Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?” 

Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”

Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment. 

Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals. 

Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners. 

“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip. 

Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” 

There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.

Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.

As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave. 

Like she could do anything. 

“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”

Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit. 

He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.

She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking. 

When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually. 

But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities. 

Perhaps he was in remission. 

He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.

Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him. 

Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all. 

When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father. 

But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.

She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe. 

And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.  

Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde. 

Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—

With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.

Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.

And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—

“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.

Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”

The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.   

Good girl. She found him attractive. 

His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—

“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful. 

His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth. 

The urge. 

Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.

He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.

She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.

He could fuck her within an inch of her life—

Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now. 

She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough. 

He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease. 

Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed. 

“Just the check please, sweetheart.”

Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471

[mushroomates]

aragorn headcanons:

sketches in his free time. likes to draw plants he’s come across, writes down descriptions for later. makes maps and draws animals.

cannot draw people, for the life of him.

except for arwen. draws her all the time.

used to very bland food, cooking on the road. prefers unseasoned meat, likes to taste the “natural flavor.”

dislikes nutmeg. cinnamon feind

favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin

has very grimy hands all the time. it’s never ending. even after he washes them, it’s like immediate dirt and grease

current theories are: his sword is just really dirty, his clothes are dirty so when he touches them it makes them dirty, or legolas’s favorite- humans naturally produce grime so the dirt is a natural protective layer above the skin.

in actuality it’s because he knows it grosses (some) elves out and likes to be a menace. specifically targets erestor. legolas will also go great lengths to make sure aragorns hands star far, far away from his hair

knows some card tricks. has great slight of hand specially because of these card tricks. didn’t really do anything with this until pippin discovered this fact and aragorn was forced (politely asked) to preform for the hobbits.

this is, in spite of the fact, that they all know a literal WIZARD (gandalf was salty at abt this “false magic”) and also a ring that turns ppl invisible??

sews. really well, actually. enjoys it but rarely showcases this talent- mostly patches and mends garments weathered by his lifestyle. would one day love to sew a dress for arwen but doesn’t know where to start

masterful at subtly deflecting compliments.

very generous with compliments of his own, but are again, subtle.

years of living with elves has made him quite reserved. yet, he is doing his best to unlearn this behavior. such examples include:

telling arwen he loves her. telling elrond he loves him. telling frodo he loves him. really just telling everyone he loves them. he’s even worse when he’s drunk- he rarely gets even tipsy, but under the influence of a fine wine (or mead, he prefers mead or ciders) he will get very emotional.

hugs!! aragorn loves to give hugs. he really tries his best but they’re a bit awkward at times. he’s getting better.

breaking away from the elven raw-diet and dine seasonings with grilled meat and more lately grilled everything.

he will try his best to cook for himself at any opportunity. it was a jarring shift going from being served gourmet eleven dinners to raw venison

love language is acts of service. he likes to cook for his friends, though he’s not as good as it as sam, who cooked a majority of fellowship meals, so he mainly hunts. then legolas offered his hand and gimli felt challenged by that and at this point boromir just felt excluded-

he just wants to do nice things for the people he cares abt.

arwen has not, for a good chunk of her life, tied her own shoes, peeled her own oranges, made her own tea, or woken up without breakfast being made or ready for her.

just. guys. he really really loves arwen. he will do anything for her and it’s almost obnoxious.

it IS obnoxious if you ask legolas. but this is why aragorn does not go to legolas for romantic advice. (legolas once told aragorn that the next time he ties her shoes he should tie them together so that when she falls he will catch her. this is why arwen stoped flats with ties and opted for anything she could slip on instead.)

will never cheat at any sort of game. he will get extremely upset if you accuse him of such.

he does not believe that counting cards qualifies as cheating. boromir strongly disagrees. he mainly sticks to chess, now

is not allowed to play chess with erestor, (sore loser and prone to trash talk) elrond (matches take to long due to overthinking on both ends and this annoys arwen to no end) and either of the twins (they cheat by working as a team)

would 100% believe in bigfoot.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

For your safety

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Tetchou Suehiro x GN! Reader

Description: Monster followed after you. Tetchou won't let him hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Implied torture. Mentioned of serious injuries. Nightmares. Panic Attack (heavily inspired by "Puss in Boots: The last wish" scene), English is my second language. Dehumanisation (Capitano calls Reader 'it', Captaino is called an 'it' by Hunting Dogs). Tetchou is a soft protective yandere (yandere, if you squeeze) towards Reader.

________

Who would think, that Watasumi will let Fatui into Enkonomia.

But, catching Imposter was more important, than honoring old traditions.

Because Imposter was here.

And it was finally in Capitano's clutches.

Dirty Imposter, a creature, that dared to walked on the land, blessed by the Creator.

This thing was hiding in an old ruins.

Dressed in rugs, it was biting huge chunks from mushrooms it cooked earlier.

Capitano adjust his hold on claymore's hilt. Just one swing, and it will finally stop poisoning Teyvat.

Capitano took a step forward.

And he made a mistake. He stepped on a twig.

It turned around. It looks scared. It has dried tears on its cheeks.

It ran. As fast, as it can.

And Capitano followed after it.

He catches it.

He raised its claymore.

And Bathysmal Vishaps attacked him.

The damned oversized lizards were attacking non-stop. Keeping Capitano away from it.

Fatui Harbinger saw, how it was riding away on one of the vishaps.

Capitano failed.

_______

It, eventually, was caught.

Justice was almost served.

Until it disappeared.

_______

Capitano, the strongest warrior of Teyvat, head of the Holy Guard, was laying on a deck of a small boat. The boat itself was covered under camouflage awning from camouflage net, seaweeds, rotten wood, old bones of sea serpent and dried dead fish. Few mechanical birds finish the picture. The camouflage was done so skillfully that even from a close distance the boat could easily be mistaken for a dead creature, entangled in garbage and slowly driven by the waves.

The navigation was hard, almost impossible. But Capitano didn't utter a word of protest. He must find, where the dreaded Imposter was hiding.

One month ago, right during their execution, they disappeared. And ever since then, Capitano was ruthless.

If it weren't for vishaps, Capitano would kill it. Capitano was too weak.

So, it was his fault, that Creator was in distress. That, while they were remaining perfect in every way, their cheeks have wet trails from tears on them.

But, this time, Capitano will do it.

He learned about a strange portal in one of the coves, located on a small island in the sea.

Capitano destroyed all documents he had.

No need to worry Creator even more.

He will get to the island unnoticed. And he will get Imposter's head.

The boat finally reached the island.

There were no humans, no animals.

And the portal was here.

Capitano stepped into the portal.

________

Tetchou tuck you in, making sure, that you are laying comfortably under your blanket.

"[Y/N], I will go and bring you some flowers, okay?" softly mumbles Tetchou, looking at you. You nodded, the corners of your lips weakly quirked upwards.

"Sounds good." whispered you. Tetchou's finger ran through your hair. He liked, that you started to smile. He didn't like, that smile didn't reach your eyes.

Tetchou left, and Atsushi Nakajima walked inside your room to stay with you.

Tetchou heard Atsushi's voice behind the closed door. It seems, he was telling you a story.

Tetchou bit his lip and headed to the first floor. He needs to go outside and pick you some flowers.

Maybe, they will lift your mood, at least for a moment.

But, before going here, Tetchou took his sword from his room. In case, people, who did this to you, appeared.

Two months ago, you disappeared. No matter, how hard they try, they couldn't find you. Until, one day, one month ago, you reappeared again.

And you looked awful.

Every part of your body were covered in burns, woulds and scars. You were starving, thirty, and terrified.

Doctor Yosano treated your wounds.

All of them made sure, that you are well-fed and always have water.

And they were doing whatever it takes to help you regain your mental health.

You were terrified of being alone.

And there were always at least one of them next to you.

You were terrified of being hit.

And they were treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

You were terrified of Mori's voice.

And Boss of Port Mafia spoke only through Elise, whispering in her ear. He never raised his voice.

You have nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night, crying, shouting, that you are not an imposter, begging someone invisible not to hurt you.

And they were always near you, hugging you, drying your tears.

And mentally thinking about killing people, who did this to you.

Tetchou's hate was focused on Capitano.

________

A heavy foot stomped on your stomach, just below your ribs. It took all of your air out of lungs. You gasp, your mouth was wide open, but couldn’t get any air.

Capitano's booming voice filled your ears.

"Got you, little Imposter. Now, let me take that. We don't want you to miss it, aren't we?"

Two fingers pressed against your eyes.

A sharp, unbeatable burning pain.

"Here. Now, you won't be able to close your eyes ever again. Well, it's not like this ever will last for long."

Capitano raised his claymore.

You wanted so badly to close your eyes. But you don't have eyelids anymore.

The blade quickly sank down. Right in your face.

_______

Blood ponded in your ears.

You were breathing heavily.

Your heart was beating fast. You won't be surprised, if your whole body was shaking because of your heartbeats.

You can't focus your gaze in anything. Everything seemed like in a fog.

No sound escaped from your lips. Your moth and throat feels dry. Like you spent all your life without single drop of water.

You were choking. You were crying. You were sweating. You couldn't hear anything.

A heavy stone hand was put over your eyes. Now you were surrounded by darkness.

A heavy stone head was put on your chest. And it was moving.

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

You put your hand on Tetchou's head, that he laid on your chest. You whisper.

"Thank you... Tetchou..."

He took his hand away from your eyes. You two were silent. Tetchou were still breathing in the same rhythm.

And you were breathing with him.

______

Tetchou never told you, that you were screaming one name in your sleep.

And it was a scream of terror.

Capitano.

His enemy.

Tetchou was halfway to the flower beds, that Kenji made specifically for you, when he heard a loud crash coming from an empty barn.

_____

This man was huge.

Much taller, than Tetchou, dressed in strange armor, the man was towering over the member of Hunting Dogs.

Both males stood on the opposite sides of the barn. Tetchou was still standing near bars gates, while strange mad stand on the furthest wall.

Yellowish-ember eyes stare right into the black void of a mask.

"Who are you?" Tetchou's voice was emotionless. The man's booming voice echoed off the walls of the empty barn.

"I am Capitano, one of the Fatui Harbingers. I am searching for a sinful creature. Have you encountered an ugly creature this big?" Capitano moved his hand forward to show your height. "It has hideous..."

The rest of the words stuck in Capitano's mouth. A thin blade pierce through his palm, shoulder and sword's tip draw blood from his neck.

Tetchou didn't even move an inch. His eyes shrink.

"So... You are the same Capitano, who dared to hurt My Sakura Blossom... Our [Y/N]."

Tetchou dash forward.

And the floor cracked under his feet.

______

Tetchou never moved so fast in his life.

His sword was bending in impossible corners, piercing through Capitano's armor. Wounding, drawing blood.

Not killing.

The Strongest Warrior of Teyvat couldn't land a hit. Tetchou's determination to protect you, to avenge you, to keep you safe gave his strength.

The fight ended, when Tetchou manage to grab the hilt of Capitano's claymore.

Tetchou never used his ability on two-handed sword. Yet, a sword is a sword.

Without his legs, Capitano wasn't so tall anymore.

______

Capitano woke up in a room, that looked similar to Dottore's lab. He was suspended from the ceiling. Heavy chain was holding his arms together.

Hunting Dogs, except for Tetchou, were here. Jouno was the first one, who noticed, that Capitano was awake.

"So, it is finally decided to wake up." Jouno's voice was cold. Deadly.

Tachihara used his ability, to tie chains tighter. Accidentally' breaking Capitano's arm in a process.

"Here. It won't escape."

Teruko was almost dancing in one spot.

"Finally, I was dreaming about the moment I can get my hands on anyone, who dared to hurt our dear [Y/N]."

Fukuchi put his hand on Amenogozen's hilt.

"You aren't the only one, Teruko-kun. Doctor Yosano, should we start?"

Yosano, who was sitting in the dark corner, nodded.

Capitano got a taste of her ability for a few thousand times.

_____

Tetchou put flowers he picked for you in a vase. He noticed, how brighten up your eyes.

"They are beautiful, Tetchou. Thank you."

And a small smile. And this time, it reached your eyes.

Tetchou opened his arms, offering a hug.

And you hugged him, laying your head on his chest.

His arms wrapped around your frame. Protecting you from the outside world.

Tetchou promised to himself, that he will go beyond limits to protect your smile. No matter what, he will do anything he can.

For your safety

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms

[punigamefoodie]

Duck Croquettes

"A gourmet Duck croquette, rich with creamy fat even when chilled. Makes for a great souvenir from the country!"

[bananafire11]

Squirrels, Squirrels, and More Squirrels

Summary: Daryl leaves reader squirrels as his way of affection. Set in season 1 sometime before Rick's appearance. TW: Squirrels being dead but otherwise, none!

Squirrels, squirrels, and more squirrels.

Squirrels outside your tent. Squirrels left by your laundry. Squirrels set in your designated place by the fire. Squirrels everywhere. At first you’d thought it was a coincidence. But soon enough there were simply too many to be a coincidence. Honestly, it hadn't taken you long to figure out who this squirrel culprit was. It was quite easy actually.

________________________

Actually catching the squirrel culprit, however, was proving to be notoriously difficult. He was sneaky, you’d give him that. It was like he moved with the wind, gone before you even realized he was there in the first place, slipping right through your fingers. But not tonight. Not tonight. You lie in wait inside of your tent, waiting for the soft crunch of fallen leaves or the silhouette of a certain redneck painting your tent walls. Tonight you’d catch him in the act. You would.

Just by the time your back was starting to ache from sitting in that same rigid position and your eyelids were threatening to slip shut with every passing second, the faintest of footfalls caught your attention. Your eyes popped open, alert. Just as you’d hoped, the dark shadow of the hunter passed over your ugly beige tent walls. A soft thud right outside the opening and the shadow melted away. You pulled yourself up and yanked the zipper open with newfound strength from your tired limbs. Now, you hadn’t actually thought through how it would go once you successfully caught him in the act. Daryl stared at you with wide blue eyes, looking reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights. A string of fresh squirrels hung from his belt, dangling low by his knee and his crossbow slung over his shoulder. The moonlight spilling in through the trees littered his cheeks and bare shoulders in a soft glow, giving him an air of gentleness that wasn’t normally present in the snarky man.

Your eyes flickered to your tent entrance, and sure enough, there sat a dead squirrel. Clean with only the small splattering of blood by its neck where you assumed one of his bolts had pierced. You bent over and grabbed it by the tail, the body falling limp as you held it before you. “Care to explain the sudden influx of dead vermin?” Your tone was a light tease, not wanting to scare the man away. No, that was the last thing you wanted. His throat bobbed and his nose twitched as he squinted at you, steely blue rolling over you in contemplation for an answer. His lips quirked to the side as his fingers played with the strap of his crossbow. “Jus’ help’n ya out,” came the coarse reply. He rolled his shoulders, unoccupied hand now rolling the hem of his blood-stained tank top between his index and thumb. Nervous.

Your head cocked to the side, resting your hand on your hip, “and how is that?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes in a dismissing fashion, “Y’ c’n hardly catch anythin’, so’s I’m doin’ it fer ya.” Your lips involuntarily formed a smile at his poor cover-up. While it was definitely supposed to piss you off, dismissing you as unworthy of catching your own food, your heart did a skip in your chest. He wasn’t completely wrong, you were much better suited for cooking and serving what he caught rather than doing the hunting yourself. It was something you never figured you’d need to learn how to do. “Hmph, I dunno if I should be offended or flattered,” you quipped. “S’pose I can find some use for these.” Daryl’s gaze snapped back to yours, brows pinching, “Really?” You nodded, “Yeah,” you flipped the tawny squirrel over in your fingers, “food, first off.” He returned the nod, teeth chewing at his bottom lip, “I mean, ‘course ya can,” he huffed and it almost sounded like a compliment. Hell, from him, it probably was. Silence fell between you two and you and you glanced back at your tent. Your not-so-comfortable sleeping bag inside was calling for you. “Well, I’mma get some hours of sleep in before mornin,” you murmured. You reached for the zipper, peering at him over your shoulder, “G’night, Daryl.” The redneck blinked at you before he fixed his posture and headed towards his own tent, “Mm, night,” ________________________

And when he’d found a steaming hot bowl of soup by his tent for him the following morning, he knew exactly who’d left it there.

[syndrossi]

My precious wonderful demon of a cat just hopped up where I was eating and sat her butt directly on my plate. *sobs* Naturally, as I throw my food away, I have to wonder... how much trouble would they be in if Shadow and/or Qelebrys did this to Daemon?

Which also made me wonder in turn if, after they start breathing fire, do they ever try to save Jon and Rhaegar from the horrors of "raw meat" and, ah, cook their boys' dinners just a little bit more than they are when initially served? (Charbroiled steak, coming right up. Nice and crispy.)

I still want to see them interacting with the small and sickly baby Tyraxes. 😭

Magic aura and crispy meat, man. Baby dragons need it.

Oh nooo, what a sweet little menace. 😂 It's like they both know precisely what they're doing and yet are simultaneously so oblivious.

See, I think Daemon would find it endearing more than anything and perhaps even find himself imagining how Caraxes might have been like as a hatchling (I'm sure he has heard stories from Aemon). It's a different story when someone else is preparing your food for you and will promptly handle the mess + replacing it and you pay for nothing. Must be nice!

As soon as they find their dragonflame, I'm sure the hatchlings will be taking every excuse to use it via "saving" Jon and Rhaegar from many horrors. Lots and lots of grilled (blackened) veggies in their future too, since the hatchlings are skeptical of this weird, non-bloody meat that isn't wholly cooked. Granted, the first time the table catches fire, Daemon has to put a stop to it and ban them from mealtimes (or at least banish them to the hearth). After all, as adorable as it is, it's another thing entirely to have a dragon trained to think it knows better about how to "prepare" your meal for you.

In that dragons-as-cats vein, I wonder if either will start bringing their kills to Jon and Rhaegar. Charred birds left outside their windows every other day, which is easy enough to deal with (for Rolen most of the time). Daemon advises the boys to get it under control until they're large enough to start bringing sheep. Or at the very least train them to do so on command, as it can be useful to have your dragon hunt for you on the rare occasion where there isn't a holdfast to host you that evening.

But you're right, the poor baby who needs this most is tiny-big-cousin Tyraxes. Once the hatchlings get further into their childhood years, I could see them wanting to spring the other drakes from the Dragonpit for fresh air and play.

[bonefall]

i can’t help that feel like 350 calories per cat per day across 5 clans (150 some odd cats!!!) is more prey than there is! even with really generous cooking estimates you’d need to catch a rabbit or two or a large fish or something per clan every single day of the year. i feel like that would really mess up prey populations, wouldn’t it? i know animals have a lot of babies, but 3,650 rabbits’ worth of calories every year (not to mention what other predators like foxes, snakes, and hawks are eating) feels like too much for one territory. are we assuming that there’s more prey than there is or do i just not know how much offspring animals produce?

WELL, there's a lot of factors here, but you are actually organically figuring out something true and horrifying. BB!Cats are sapient, able to understand their impact on the environment and ergo manage it, but feral domestic cats are devastating to local ecosystems.

Not even because of caloric need btw just because of how much they hunt, and their odd behaviors.

The Bad

There is a reason why predator populations are so massively outnumbered by prey species. One rabbit would feed a single cat for days, but one colony is typically 3 - 15 cats. Most predators are solitary, or have "loose" social structures spread out over many partially overlapping territories covering miles (like alligators)! but something changed when cats were domesticated, and they now seek out dense social units unlike their wild ancestors.

That's why the only social wild cats are lions. Lion prides are extremely flexible, ranging from 3 to upwards of 30 members, and their populations are going to depend completely on how much prey they have access to. Even the shocking "infanticide" thing that male lions are notorious for serves an ecological purpose; less lions means more meat, so every cub that isn't yours is a future rival.

(tangent: the largest lion prides actually set up in major migration "hubs," where there is a constant influx of traveling animals. Not really an "ecosystem" where the pride can damage the population.)

But now domestic cats are doing this, in ecosystems that can't support them and never had predators that behave like them. They compete with the local mesopredators ("middle" hunters that hunt small game but are killed by larger predators. Ex: raptors, snakes, caniforms like foxes or raccoons, etc) and put extra pressure on prey populations.

But that's not the worst part.

In nature, there are Predator-Prey cycles. When there's too many predators, they decrease the prey population. When there's not enough prey, the predators starve and their population lowers. Here is a graph of this phenomenon;

In this way, starvation is required for an ecosystem to stay healthy. It's how nature regulates.

But human beings feed cat colonies.

So colonies end up hitting DOZENS of cats. Upwards of 30 in a tiny area. The sizes you see in canon WC and in BB are TWICE the size of what a feral cat colony typically reaches. In the real world, this is because humans feed them. They HAVE to starve to lower the population, and make no mistake, these are slow, painful deaths.

"But, if we feed the colony, then they're not hunting the local prey, right? Because they're not hungry?" INCORRECT. THEY ARE ANIMALS. Cats are not humans with our sense of morality and long-term consequences. Hunting is only partially driven by hunger, it's also driven by prey drive. Even an outdoor cat, who gets all their meals at home, is killing an average of 90 animals a year.

(note: you may hear the number "they kill 3.5 animals a day." That is a misreading of this study which says 3.5 animals a month based on owner reports; but better study shows they only bring about 18% of their kills home.)

I could get into why I'm actually not a big fan of TNR as a conservation strategy because of this, but in a nutshell, the best solution to feral cat population management overall is (expensive) high-intensity TNR (70% or more) PAIRED with (inexpensive) removal/euthanasia and other methods (like banning colony feeding). PURE high-intensity TNR takes up to 30 years to remove a cat colony in computer simulations. And they keep killing wild animals that whole time.

(tangent: you may come across articles that say that killing feral cats doesn't work. This is often based on this Tasmanian case study by Lazenby et all, where they trapped and removed cats, only to find an influx of subordinate "satellite" individuals that filled the vacuum that the previously established individuals left and increased the overall population. This is a well-documented phenomenon of predator control. They don't tell you that this is short-term and also happens with TNR, just over a longer timeline, as discussed in the above studies, and the solution is to mix methods and make sure that these programs are carried out systemically, NOT ONLY in one limited range.)

So... feral cat colonies with totally realistic needs are very harmful to local ecosystems. They are animals, and they are an invasive species. Keep your cats indoors please

The Good

But BB!Cats and Canon!Cats aren't just animals. These are cats with governments and religion. They do understand long-term consequences.

Even on the page in-canon, they show an understanding that prey comes from breeding (unlike, say, a medieval human who believed in spontaneous generation), WindClan doesn't disturb lapwings during their nesting season showing a basic understanding of ecology, and they even have a law against food waste. Like it or not, these aren't realistic cats. They are small humans with a fuzzy little kitty coat tossed over them.

So we can actually reasonably assume that Clan cats are modifying their behavior so they aren't the ecosystem-shredders that their real-world counterparts are, like;

Hunting over a wider area and having a large territory (so to address you directly anon, their territories are not as small as you might think they are)

Taking the pressure off specific areas by sending their hunting patrols to various parts of their territory

Avoiding hunting animals during their breeding and nesting seasons.

Not killing animals that are pregnant or nursing

Leaving baby animals alone so they grow into bigger food items

Not killing what they don't plan to eat

Intentionally varying their diet so they take a little from many populations.

Hunting animals that real cats don't usually target, like fawns, seagulls, and young boars.

Breeding their own prey, if you're willing to do a little domestication innovation

If you're VERY cool, give them fire. go on. do it. 20% to 50% caloric increase is prettyyy cooool~

But also, you may be underestimating just how many babies prey species produce. Let's use rabbits because these things are insane. They weren't lying, rabbits can breed like rabbits.

European rabbits (and all the domestic breeds they are descended from) have a double womb. That means that when they've given birth to their litter of 4 - 12 babies (usually 6), they can already be pregnant with the next. Gestation is a month. These babies are able to leave their mothers at 2 months and can breed by 4 months. They can have 10 litters a year.

So a SINGLE rabbit COULD have well over 100 bunnies a year... but rabbit warrens are usually 10 - 50, mostly females, plus a bunch of bucks who are more solitary and more likely to travel around. And you're gonna have multiple warrens on a territory.

Low litter estimate, small warren; 10 x 4 x 10 = 400 bunnies. Big litter estimate, big warren; 50 x 12 x 10 = 6,000 bunnies.

That said, most estimates say they functionally end up with 20 adult children a year, which then go on to breed at four months. That's still 200 rabbits a year coming out of that small warren ALONE, and isn't counting the fact that those children are also going to have children of their own.

(though, rabbits in particular are facing a massive crisis in england and even across europe because of two diseases that hit them one after another OTL but it's not related to predation.)

Don't forget that a territory also has more than just rabbits. This is also happening with mice, rats, ducks, sparrows, voles, etc. Like I said, if your cats just diversify the prey they hunt in response to population changes, they'll be golden. In BB I even have a role dedicated to this now; the Head of Hunting, who is tasked with assessing this sort of thing.

SO, to answer you directly;

Feral Cats Bad

WC characters have more in common with a small human than a cat

Pure carnivores are pretty demanding on their ecosystems

There is plenty an intelligent creature can do to reduce their impact on the ecosystem

Their territories could still support them along with the other predators

You did underestimate just how many babies prey animals have, though

Overall, they would be fine. You COULD overhunt a territory, but not with basic prey management practices.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Part 11 of The Codfather's Court AU

"What is always on its way, but never arrives?"

fWhip didn't glance up from the map he was studying. "Tomorrow. Or the future. Either works, right?"

"That's right." Pix sighed, staring out the window instead of at his work. "Or a ship," he muttered.

"A ship?" fWhip looked up, puzzled, then looked out the window himself. There were a handful of ships scattered on the horizon, but none from the direction of the Codlands. "Ah. He supposed to be back today?"

"He was supposed to be back two days ago. But sometimes he has to stay a little longer than planned." Pix stood and stretched. "At least the Queen's consort is supposed to arrive today as well. Jimmy won't want to miss his visit."

fWhip wondered about the solo member of the Ocean Queen's court. He knew nothing about the man, other than that he was Pix's equivalent in status but didn't live in the Ocean Empire full time. The only other time he'd visited since fWhip's arrival, he and Lizzie had sequestered themselves away in her side of the palace for a week before he left again.

He could ask, he supposed. But he was tired, and what remained of his energy was being put toward studying the locations of the many islands of the empire, so fWhip put his curiosity about Lizzie's consort out of his mind and returned to his maps.

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until Pix's hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. They went down to the docks to meet Jimmy's ship, but Jimmy only granted Pix a brief kiss and fWhip a peck on the forehead before he was striding off so quickly that fWhip had to fly every few steps to keep up.

"I'm sorry, my love," said Jimmy, slowing down just enough to squeeze Pix's hand apologetically. "I need to talk to Lizzie right away. I'll fill you in later."

"Of course." Pix stopped trying to keep up as Jimmy resumed his quick pace, and fWhip stopped next to him, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

"Who lit a fire in his pants?" huffed fWhip once he'd regained enough air to speak. "Did we even need to come out here?"

"Something must be happening on the mainland," said Pix with a frown. "If it were about the war, we would have heard about it already."

fWhip rolled his eyes. "You would have heard about it already. No one ever talks to me except you." As if to prove his point, a busy dockworker slowed down long enough to nod to Pix and greet him with a warm good afternoon, your highness. But fWhip they ignored entirely, and nearly clipped him with the barrel hoisted over their shoulder as they passed by.

"See? I don't think Jimmy's little displays of affection are working." fWhip caught himself before he bared his fangs in the dockworker's direction, tamping down the urge to remember their face for the next time he was able to hunt.

"No, they are." Pix put an arm around fWhip's shoulders as they went inside. "You'll notice that no one has insulted you to your face, or 'accidentally' knocked you into the water, or attacked you."

"Oh...I knew people didn't like me, but I didn't think it was that bad," said fWhip. "Should I be checking my meals for poison?"

Pix pulled him closer as they passed a pair of guards, and the gesture was no doubt meant to serve the same purpose as Jimmy's kisses, but it still made fWhip's breath catch. "No, I already asked the head cook to make sure no one tampers with your food."

"I was - I was joking about the poison."

"It was more a precaution than anything else. I don't actually expect anyone to cause trouble, despite everything." Pix sighed. "They're good people, fWhip. I've come to love them as much as I love the people of Pixandria. But you must understand: it is wartime, and many of them have lost friends or family, and they are angry. You're a convenient target for that pain."

They were in the privacy of the main hall of Jimmy's side of the palace now, and fWhip pushed away from him. "Yeah, well, excuse me if I'm not exactly jumping for joy about being kidnapped - "

"Arrested."

"Oh, whatever. I'm going to take a nap before dinner." Pix reached for him, likely intending to squeeze his shoulder or offer some other comforting gesture, but fWhip brushed his hand away and stepped out of his reach. He was annoyed enough about the conversation, but what annoyed him more was that Pixlriffs smelled so damn good.

It wouldn't be much longer before his hunger would be out of control. But even if he weren't trying to keep his secret from Jimmy as long as possible, Pix still wouldn't be an option. fWhip was going to take the first opportunity for escape that presented itself just as soon as he was back at full strength, but he needed a clear head for that, and that meant he needed to feed from someone with little to no magic. He didn't know quite how strong Pix's magic was or how it might affect him, but imagined he had to be at least on a similar level as Scott. The one time Scott had offered a wrist, it was three hours before fWhip could fly home, and he spent the next two days brimming with so much energy he deep-cleaned and reorganized his entire forge.

Right now, though, fWhip could barely remember what that level of strength felt like. He was still groggy when a knock on the door roused him from his nap, and he wandered bleary-eyed to the dining room. For a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming when he saw who else waited outside its doors.

"Joel!" fWhip grabbed Joel's hand, relieved to see a friendly face. "What are you doing here? Are Gem and Sausage okay? Oh gods, you didn't get arrested too, did you? No, wait, Mezalea's an ally of the Ocean Empire if I remember right, so you're probably here on business. Look, I need you to take a message to Gem for me. Tell her where I am, and to stop letting - "

"Whoa, easy there. Maybe remember to breathe. It's good to see you too, fWhip." Joel patted fWhip's hand. "Gem and Sausage are fine. Everyone's fine, other than buying into some stupid story about demon sightings. I can't take any messages for you, though, sorry."

"What? Why not!?" fWhip paced a few steps, flapping his wings in distress. "Joel, please, you have to tell her. I'm - I'm basically being held prisoner here!"

"Yeah, I know."

fWhip stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

Joel shrugged. "Nothing I can do about it. You had your trial, right? And you're alive and not in a cell somewhere, so seems like you came out of it with the best outcome you were going to get. Ow!"

He rubbed his arm where fWhip punched it. "How did you know that? And why aren't you helping me?" demanded fWhip. "I thought we were friends!"

"We are! So long as you don't hit me again, anyway. Look, if you got arrested in literally any other empire, I would do whatever I could to get you out. But - "

Before Joel could tell him why, Lizzie rounded the corner. Joel's face lit up, and fWhip put the pieces together with a groan. Of course Joel wasn't going to help him. It wouldn't be a good look for the First Prince of the Ocean Queen's Court to go against the wishes of either her or the Codfather, after all.

"Sorry for the delay. Sir Strawberry needed to talk to me for a moment." Lizzie pulled Joel to her and kissed him. "Jimmy and Pix are still catching up, I take it?"

"Probably." Joel had the same starstruck look fWhip remembered from every House Blossom meeting that Lizzie had attended before she handed that responsibility over to Jimmy. "I was chatting with fWhip in the meantime."

Lizzie hummed but barely glanced at her brother's concubine, too busy straightening Joel's sash and telling him about how she'd imported a particular tea he was fond of. fWhip made a face at how disgustingly adorable they looked together, and was almost relieved when Jimmy and Pixlriffs finally joined them.

"Joel! Hi!" Jimmy's wide grin was far too cute to be on someone so frustrating, fWhip complained silently to himself, then stared as Jimmy kissed the King of Mezalea almost as passionately as Lizzie had.

"So, like. They're sirens or something, right?" fWhip said to Pix as Joel grinned just as brightly as Jimmy. "They're sirens, and I'm immune for some reason, and that's why you and Joel both are so...like that."

Pix laughed as fWhip gestured to Jimmy, Joel, and Lizzie. "They're not sirens, and neither of us are under any enchantments. Just in love with our partners, that's all."

"Hm. No, definitely sirens." fWhip followed as everyone entered the dining hall now that they were all gathered. Jimmy and Lizzie shoved at each other playfully, arguing good-naturedly over who Joel would sit closest too. "So if Joel is Lizzie's consort, then what's with, uh..."

"Jimmy and Lizzie have a very close relationship," said Pix, sitting between Jimmy and fWhip. "They adore each other and share everything. So whenever Jimmy wants to, er, borrow Joel - "

"Ew."

"You asked," said Pix with a shrug. "And Joel's not exactly complaining, you might have noticed."

"It's a little hard to miss," said fWhip dryly.

Pix chuckled. "Lizzie's doted on Jimmy since they were children. That's why she flooded the Mari Peninsula when he was kidnapped by the salmon. She was terrified and furious and found them hiding out there."

"And I would do it again."

fWhip jumped at Lizzie's interjection. She had paid so little attention to him whenever she joined them for dinner that he hadn't expected her to be listening. "I refuse to show mercy to anyone who hurts or aids those who would hurt my brother. Mythland paid the price for abetting my enemies once. It's a shame they seem to have forgotten that recently."

Even with her upper face hidden behind her veil, the Ocean Queen's gaze felt so intense that fWhip looked down at his plate to avoid it. Maybe there was something to the belief that the king and queen of the ocean kept their faces hidden to protect mortals from their power after all.