day 1 | prompt home can be a person | theme family + pets
No Place Like Home (100 words)
Alex decided on a whim - okay it wasn't really a whim - to go to the animal rescue shelter where Forrest had found Buffy. He was just going to look, get a feel for the different dogs there, see what sort of stuff he'd need to outfit his home, that's it.
Three hours later, with a spirited beagle pit bull mix tugging on the leash, he finally arrived home. He decided to name her Dawn, so she truly could be like Buffy's little sister. It was like she was always meant to be there, seamlessly fitting into his life.
Rating/Warnings: K. Doggy fluff. Do much doggy fluff.
Summary: Follow These 10 Simple Steps And Your Human Will Live A Long And Healthy Life! (Or, Wes does not so much adopt a dog as get adopted.)
Notes: Wes and dogs. How can you go wrong? Ever since Joint Custody I’ve wanted to do a dog!fic, and this is the end result. I really like this one. It’s adorable.
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This is me, pimping my fics like a boss expanding the Common Law fandom, one fic at a time.
Hi, LOVE this page by the way!! I was wondering if there are any fics where peeta and katniss live together and have any pets? if not pets then just live together? THANK YOU! xxxx
Thank you! Here are some pet stories where they live together:
The Naming of Cats - Estoma
Dog Day Afternoon - SabacenBabe
Hunter - Belle A Lestrange
Small World - Izzy Samson (looks to be moving in the direction of your ask)
The Puppy - Konzelwoman
Christmas with the Mellarks (prologue) - Konzelwoman
“Buttercup III” from The Hunger Games Drabbles - Konzelwoman
New Neighbors - Konzelwoman
And if ponies and forest creatures count, there’s When the Moon by Mejhiren too.
I heard you were having a rough day and though maybe I'd try to write a short fluffy fic for you.
"We're not getting a dog, Cas."
The ex-angel glared at Dean, but only asked, "Why?"
"Look, I went through this with Sammy for years when he was a kid. We're on the road too much; we just don't have the right kind of lifestyle to get a pet. Besides, would you even know what to do with a dog?" Dean questioned.
Cas sighed in exasperation. "I may be human now, but I was an angel for millenia, Dean. I know how to care for a dog. And we spend most our time in the bunker now. Since the angels are locked in Heaven and the demons in Hell, our case load has significantly diminished."
Dean fidgeted in his chair. Dammit, Cas was right. His usual excuses really wouldn't work anymore. After all the demons and angels, the normal monster they fought suddenly seemed... easy. But since he'd been dragged to Hell by demonic dogs, the regular earthly variety had hit a bit too close to home. Realizing Cas was still looking at him expectantly, he shoved his chair away from the table and stalked towards his room. He shot a glare over his shoulder.
"Dammit Cas we're not getting a damn dog! Just shut up about it."
~~~
Castiel groaned. That... had not gone as he'd planned. He'd expected some puchback from the hunter, but the reaction Dean had given baffled him. He glanced down at the picture of a dog on his phone. 'I will bring you home, Scruffy.'
Since becoming human, Cas had taken to volunteering at a local dog shelter when they had a break in between cases. Over the months, he'd grown rather attached to an older Bearded Collie named Scruffy. When the dog had first been taken in, his coat had been long and bedraggled, matted in places with burrs and sticks stuck in it. One of Cas' first major duties at the shelter had been to help groom Scruffy and clean him up. It had rather reminded him of dragging Dean from Hell and putting his body back together; healing bits that were hurt and making it so his soul could shine through once more.
After that he'd started to spend more time with the dog, coming to love his playfulness and the intelligence in his dark eyes. When he'd heard that Scruffy was taking too long to be adopted and the shelter was having to consider "putting him down", Cas had decided he'd just have to adopt the dog himself. The only problem was the two stubborn hunters he shared the bunker with.
Sam walked into the room, a thick book in hand, barely paying attention to where he was walking.
"Sam." Cas said.
He looked up, "Oh, hey Cas. You need something?"
Cas considered before he replied, "I wish to adopt a dog. I felt it was proper to ask you and Dean, as my housemates, for your thoughts before doing so."
Sam nearly dropped his book. "Oh, man, that'd be great. I've always wanted a dog. I mean, I had one for a little while when I was a teenager, and of course while you guys were in... Uhm. Anyways. Yeah, a dog would be awesome."
Cas gave a little smile. "I thought I would have your support. However, Dean's made his opinion very clear. He doesn't want a dog."
Sam's face fell. "Oh, yeah. Well, since the whole 'dragged to Hell by Hellhounds' thing, he's been... kinda uncomfortable around dogs." He sighed. "Oh, well. It was a nice idea, Cas."
Cas considered this new information. "I see. I wasn't aware of his fear. Thank you for telling me, Sam."
~~~
Dean was sitting on his bed reading (damn, memory foam was awesome, how had he gone so long without knowing about it?) when he heard someone knock on his door. Two short raps. That meant Cas. Sam always knocked with three raps.
"C'min, Cas."
Cas opened the door and strode in. "Dean, I've come to realize why you do not wish for a dog to be in the bunker. I didn't know you had cynophobia."
Dean blinked in confusion. "Sign-o what now?"
"Cynophobia, Dean. A fear of dogs."
Dean balked and jumped off the bed. "Dude, no! I'm not afraid of dogs."
Cas cocked his head. "I spoke with Sam, and he said you'd been uncomfortable around dogs since you went to Hell. Was he wrong?"
Dean blanched and let out a low breath. "Dammit, Sam," he muttered. He cleared his throat and said, "I... well, I guess he's not wrong. It's just. I've seen all sorts of shit, man. Really horrific stuff. Both in Hell and topside. And I end up afraid of dogs? It's just friggin' stupid."
Cas shook his head sharply. "No, Dean, it makes perfect sense. You experienced an extremely violent attack from the Hellhounds before literally being dragged to Hell. I think if anyone is justified in a fear of dogs, it'd be you."
Dean gave a short chuckle. "It's not like a little shitzu is gonna send me running in terror. Well, that one time with the buruburu, but that was a special case." He shook his head. "Anyways, I'm just not able to relax around dogs. Guess that kinda makes me a coward, huh, Cas?"
Cas stepped closer to Dean. "Dean, you are an exceedingly brave man. You always have been. I understand your fears and if I had known about them I would never have brought this up. I shall just work hard to find Scruffy a good home."
Now it was Dean's turn to cock his head in confusion. "Wait a minute. You already got a specific dog in mind?
Castiel nodded. "Through my volunteer work at the shelter I've met a dog named Scruffy." He smiled softly, a mere quirk of his lips. "He reminds me of you in many ways. He was a mess when he came into the shelter, matted fur, too skinny, wounded. But he was always rather sweet as well and has displayed an amazing resilience against his life's woes."
A smirk appeared on Dean's face. "Me, sweet? You sure about that, Cas?
Cas nodded seriously. "Of course Dean." He seemed to hesitate, then quickly brushed his lips agaisnt Dean's. He smiled again, a little wider this time. "Very sweet."
Dean froze. Well, damn. That happened. He almost groaned, as he realized he couldn't bear to see his angel sad. "Well, Cas... I guess it wouldn't hurt to see the dog at least. I mean, maybe I could meet him?" He scratched absently at the back of his neck, a light blush staining his cheeks. "Maybe I could get used to him.
Castiel leaned in for another quick kiss. When he pulled back, his smile was a full on grin, crinkling the edges of his eyes and lighting up his whole face.
"Thank you, Dean."
A/N: I have yet to actually write the Supernatural fic where I introduce my OC Rowan so this will be a bit odd, but I just really got the urge to write a dog!fic. Should be fun... Also my titles suck and you might as well get used to it.
The park was rumbling with sounds. Dogs barking, birds singing, humans shrieking and laughing. The whole place was alive with the noise of the day. And since the sun was shining brightly and there was hardly a cloud in the sky, Sam had decided today was a good day to let Rowan run off some of the boundless energy she always seemed to carry.
Plopping onto the bench with his backpack at his feet, Sam laughed when his Corgi leaped up beside him, tail wagging in excitement at the prospect of playing in the grass. He unhooked her leash and tucked it into his bag, then produced a bright yellow tennis ball and waved it in front of her nose.
"This one's brand new, see? You ready to get it dirty?"
In response, she stood up and bounced against his shoulder, yipping right in his ear impatiently. He flinched, but laughed again, pushing her down and giving her the command to sit. She did so, and directed her gaze to the ball, with a stare so complete and unblinking he half expected it to burst into flame in his hand. He pulled back, watching with fascination as every auburn-colored hair stood up over her body in anticipation, before finally giving it a hardy toss out into the grass.
----
Castiel didn't really like going outside. Outside was dirty, and smelly, and things changed too often. Like when it suddenly started to rain on a sunny day, or when the sidewalk went from smooth to cracked to smooth again. But the big thing that bothered him was the other dogs. There always seemed to be some around, and he could never avoid being sniffed, having their filthy noses rubbed all over his clean fur.
Why couldn't other dogs be more like him?
Unfortunately, that's not how his owner saw it. Dean had been getting increasingly worried about Cas's anti-social behavior of late, and decided it was probably best if they went out and met some other people to push the Husky out of his comfort zone. The only dogs he seemed to be more or less okay around were the others from his litter, and even then they seemed to pick on him more than most.
Dean let Cas off his leash, but the dog stayed put. He didn't seem to know what he was expected to do, and simply gazed up at his human with a look of "We came. Can we go home now?"
"You're not getting out of this that easily, Cas, and you know it. You need to go have fun with some other dogs. Like them, over there."
He pointed down the path a ways, toward a dog and her owner playing fetch. When he threw the ball, the nimble little Corgi would leap from the bench and chase after it, then tackle it into the dirt before taking it back to her owner. The Corgi would drop it in his lap and bounce on his leg until he threw it again; lather, rinse, repeat.
Castiel wasn't really sure how that was supposed to work. Dean hadn't brought a ball, so there was nothing to fetch. Did he mean go over there and ask to play with them? That didn't seem right. He knew that if he were playing with his owner, he wouldn't want some random dog coming over and joining in. But before he could plead with Dean to simply go home again, he felt two hands on his hindquarters pushing him forward.
"Go on Cas!" Dean grunted impatiently, giving the Husky a mighty shove.
The dog couldn't help stumbling forward under his owner's persistence, and when he was free to move again he took a few hesitant steps on his own. He glanced back at Dean, who had planted himself on an empty bench nearby and pulled out a newspaper, offering the final no to the question of if they could just leave now and return to the comforts of home.
He didn't know what to do with himself. What were the other dogs doing that seemed normal? Rolling around in dirt? Um, no. Wrestling one another? Definitely not. How about just running around in circles chasing their own tails? Tch, ridiculous. He was beginning to wonder if he actually was a dog, or maybe some other animal in disguise. That would make more sense.
His attention turned back to the Corgi Dean had pointed out. She seemed to be having a good time, and her own enjoyment appeared to be making her master happy as well. Was that all it took to make your human happy? For them to know you were having fun? That answer was just too simple to be true...wasn't it?
He looked up when he heard the man call out, "Alright, go long!"
He pulled his arm back further than before, launching the ball faster and longer this time. The Corgi was after it like a shot, and moved like a streak of red lightning, but she was still too slow. It hit the ground and bounced up, knocking against a tree and springing into a different direction. The Corgi tried her best to catch it but just missed it, causing it to bounce off the top of her head instead. The dog was a bit confused and disoriented, and the ball rolled right over to Cas's feet.
He stared down at it. Despite the dirt and slobber all over it, it still smelled fresh -- he hadn't seen a new tennis ball in quite a while. After all, why would he need a new ball if he never went out and played with the one he had, right? It was awfully tempting, laying there just under his nose, and surely one little feel wouldn't hurt anything--
"Oi!"
His head jerked up, and he took a step backward defensively. The Corgi was bounding over to him, and from that distance Cas couldn't tell if she was happy or mad. His tail tucked between his legs and he shrank away from the approaching dog, making himself smaller despite the fact he was already larger than the other.
"You found my ball!" the Corgi yipped, coming to a stop in front of him. "Thanks a lot!"
Cas didn't move. She seemed to be far more assertive than he was, and it was making him nervous.
She cocked her head at his lack of response. "What's wrong?" She sniffed at him, without moving any closer, then tilted her head to the other side. "You scared? Do...Do I scare you?!" She was taken aback, and actually seemed worried that she was making him uncomfortable. "Aw, I don't mean to scare you, mate. What can I do?"
He stared at her a moment longer, before finally answering, "...N-Nothing. It's not you."
She perked up immediately. "Blimey, you had me worried there! You wanna come play then? My human won't mind!"
At that moment, they heard a voice. "Hey, Rowan!"
Her stubby tail started wagging at the sound, but she didn't turn to her master. They heard him sigh and mutter, "Alright..." and then the scraping of shoes on cement. The entire time, the two dogs never broke eye contact, until Sam was standing over them with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
"Making a friend, Rowan?" He smiled at Cas, but seeing him cowering changed his tune a bit. He crouched beside his Corgi with a hand on her head. "You beast, what did you do to the poor guy?"
She pouted at him with a whimper. "It's not my fault, honest!"
Sam scratched behind her ear and looked up at the sound of rustling paper. Dean had finally glanced up to check Castiel's progress and was just now seeing the other dog and her owner. He dropped the newspaper on the bench and stood, moving to Cas's side opposite Sam.
"Yeah, don't mind him. He's, uh... shy."
Sam nodded. "Gotcha." He reached out to pet Cas's head, and while the Husky didn't move away from his hand, he also didn't appear to enjoy being touched. Sam's eyes widened in amazement as he stood to match the other human. "Huh. That's an...interesting reaction."
"Y-Yeah. C'mon Castiel, you won't make new friends acting like a jerk."
"Well, Rowan's a bit excitable. It's easy to be put off by her."
Rowan's tail stopped wagging for a second, and she let out a huff. With his tail still between his legs, Cas relaxed a little, lying down and resting his head on his extended fore-paws. He was still wary of the Corgi, but he figured nothing could really happen with Dean by his side.
Rowan decided to mirror him, lying directly on her belly with her legs spread out behind her. And she stared at him. With that same unblinking gaze that could nearly light a tennis ball on fire.
Cas matched it for as long as he could, but finally he was forced to look away. Shifting uncomfortably, he mumbled, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
She stared at him in silence for a minute, then lifted her chin out of the dirt. "Because you're cute, mate, and I like you."
He looked up at her in surprise. She had this kind of smile on her face, like she really meant what she was saying. There was a genuine air about her; she voiced her thoughts like facts and meant every word she said. He could only gaze at her in shock until he managed to compose himself again.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he replied dubiously, resting his head on his paws again. Despite his words, however, he eased up a bit -- letting his tail uncurl behind him and closing his eyes with just the tiniest hint of a smirk.
While the dogs were having their own little conversation, the humans had been busy discussing way to break Castiel out of his shell.
"Well," Sam said, rubbing his neck, "you might just have to take him to a training class or something, if it comes down to it. Some dogs just aren't naturally social... just like people."
Dean sighed, hands tucked in the pockets of his old leather jacket. "I guess. It's weird, though; I just assumed all dogs liked each other."
Sam shrugged and opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was drawn instead to the dogs at their feet. "Or maybe you won't need to worry after all." Dean looked at him confused, then followed his eyes down.
Rowan was standing over Cas, dropping her tennis ball on his head. When it rolled off, she grabbed it again and repeated. Over and over, a clear message:
The Importance Of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by otter
sterek, 31k, complete
underage warning
He's the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that. and somehow free him of his irresponsible owner.
this is probably the best dog!derek fic i have ever read. it's ridiculously fluffy, and hilariously funny.
Sebastian and Finley had never gotten on well. The first time they met, Finley wouldn't stop growling until Lestrade locked him in the bathroom. The next time, Seb threatened to shoot the animal if he was bitten, which, after being stepped on "accidently," he tried. Greg nearly killed them both attempting to run interference, from then on they had a strained co-existence where they refused to acknowledge each other. Greg tried to get coax them in to getting along but it seemed fruitless. There was only one thing in the entire universe that Sebastian and Finley had in common aside from Greg, it is that they hate everyone else.
So when Greg had to leave for yet another babysitting Sherlock excursion, his fears of leaving the two to their own devices were just. He managed to convince one of the neighbours to take Finley on his walks and threatened under pain of death that Sebastian feed and water the animal, without killing him. The joke about poison was met with a heated glare.
The first few days were fine, they stayed out of one another's way. Seb begrudgingly fed Finley and in return, the dog didn't snarl when he came covered in gore. Greg's absence was felt by both and considered annoying. Sebastian filled his time spent in the flat reading and watching crap telly.
By day four, Seb found himself poking about the flat. He came across a hard-case and beamed at the challenge. Two lock-picks and fifteen minutes later, Sebastian was staring down at a pair of Glock 17's.
"You were holding out on me you old bastard." He muttered under his breath. Sebastian knew that Greg owned a pistol, he had seen the carrying permit in the man's wallet but had never asked what the firearm in question was. He had figured Greg to be more of a revolver-type, something heavy and old-fashioned, however this seemed more in line with the standard-firearm for London's finest. They weren't the most remarkable of firearms, Sebastian's collection certainly proved that, but it still got him hot thinking of the older man holding a gun. Note to self: take Greg to the range soon.
Nice as they were, they looked to need a decent cleaning. Seb would need to have words with the inspector upon his return regarding the dangers of a improperly-cleaned gun. He settled on the carpet, the guns coming apart in his hands with practised efficiency. The metallic sounds echoing through the quiet flat.
It wasn't long before the sounds drew an audience it seemed, he looked up and in the door way stood the small horse of a black German Shepard. The dog paused, watching.
"What? Are you going to tell on me?" He snapped, the creature's eyes moved to the neat arrangement of parts spread across a towel and gave a half-hearted bark under his breath, it was consent if Seb ever heard it.
Alright then
It wasn't until the slide of the pistol flung itself from his hand and bounced across the floor, that the animal moved. Finley tilted his head down at the object at his paws and took it gingerly in his mouth.
"Oh no, don't eat-" But the animal padded towards him, ducking his head and setting it at the edge of the cloth. Sebastian arched a brow. "....Erm....thanks." Again, the half-hearted bark came from him. "Good boy....I think." Finley tilted his head down and pointed his nose at the parts before turning his gaze towards Seb. The man stared, no fucking way was Greg's idiot canine companion telling him to continue cleaning the parts, no fucking way. Sebastian picked up the slide, finding it surprisingly void of canine drool and resumed his work.
Finley moved again, Seb's movements slowing as he watched him come to his side. The animal folded his body to the floor beside Sebastian. There was a weight on his thigh, he glanced down, the surprise was enough to still his cleaning all together. The animal's head laid against his leg.
"Just so you know, if you bite me, I can use any single one of these parts to kill you, I don't need the bullet." Finley snorted in response. Okay then.
---
When Greg came home, exhausted and aching, the last thing he wanted to do was to find one or both of them dead. At least, that was what he was expecting. What he didn't expect was Sebastian on the floor, legs up on the couch, reading with his head pillowed on the ribs of the dog sprawled out beneath him. Greg leaned back out into the hall, checking the number on the door.
