Hey, kind of a long shot but figured it never hurts to ask:
Do any of my followers live or know someone on the west coast who’s looking for a dog? Our friend Richard and his wife just had a baby and they’ve tried so hard but the new baby and dog are just not compatible.
He’s about nine, very high energy and affectionate. Not a good fit with young kids or cats as he’s pretty high prey drive but very friendly and well socialized otherwise.
Here’s Milo
Shoot me a DM if interested. They’d love to be able to see him sometimes if you’d also like to make friends with some cool nerds.
He’s going to have to be put down later this week if they can’t place him, all the shelters and sanctuaries they’ve looked into are full.
Summary: After one too many long shifts and quiet nights, you and Jack make a decision that changes everything—adopting a dog together. What starts as a simple idea turns into something deeper, softer, and a little bit terrifying in the best way.
The idea started as a joke.
“Absolutely not,” Jack said, not even looking up from his coffee as you scrolled through adoption listings on your phone. “We can barely keep ourselves alive during a double shift, and you want to bring a dog into that chaos?”
You glanced at him over the rim of your cup, unimpressed. “First of all, rude. Second, look at her.”
You turned your phone toward him.
Jack sighed dramatically—but he looked.
Big mistake.
The picture was of a small, scruffy mutt with uneven ears and eyes that looked just a little too big for her face. She was sitting in a kennel, tongue slightly out, like she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
Jack blinked.
Then leaned in closer.
“…Okay, she looks dumb.”
“Jack.”
“I mean it affectionately,” he added quickly, holding up a hand. “She’s—she’s got character.”
You smiled, already knowing you had him. “Her name’s Daisy.”
He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “We do not have time for a dog.”
“You don’t have time for a dog,” you corrected. “I make time.”
“You pass out on my couch after every shift.”
“That’s called self-care.”
Jack huffed, but there was no real bite behind it. His eyes flicked back to your phone.
“…She looks like she’d run into walls.”
“Probably,” you said. “We’d match.”
There was a pause.
A long one.
Then—
“…We can go look,” Jack muttered.
---
The shelter smelled like disinfectant and nervous energy.
Dogs barked from every direction, some jumping at their kennel doors, others curled up in the corners. You felt your chest tighten a little, but Jack’s hand brushed yours—steady, grounding.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. “Yeah. Just… a lot.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
A volunteer led you down the aisle.
“Daisy’s right here,” she said, stopping at a kennel near the end.
And there she was.
Smaller than you expected. Scruffier. One ear sticking up, the other flopped down like it had given up halfway. She looked at you with cautious curiosity, tail giving a hesitant wag.
“Oh my god,” you whispered.
Jack didn’t say anything.
But he stepped closer.
Daisy tilted her head at him.
Then—without warning—she barked once and spun in a small circle, like she didn’t know how else to process the excitement.
You laughed.
Jack didn’t.
He just crouched down slowly.
“…Hey,” he murmured.
Daisy pressed herself against the kennel door, tail wagging faster now.
And that was it.
You saw it happen in real time—the exact moment Jack Abbott lost the argument he’d been so sure he was winning.
He exhaled, shaking his head a little.
“…She’s ridiculous.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“…We’re not naming her Daisy.”
“We absolutely are.”
“She looks like a disaster.”
You grinned. “So do you after a 12-hour shift.”
He shot you a look—but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“…We’re gonna regret this,” he muttered.
---
You did not regret it.
Not when Daisy immediately tripped over her own paws the second she was let out of the kennel.
Not when she tried to climb into Jack’s lap like she weighed nothing.
And definitely not when Jack—who had sworn up and down this was a bad idea—ended up sitting on the floor with her, letting her lick his face while he pretended to be annoyed.
“Okay—okay, that’s enough—” he grumbled, gently pushing her away.
Daisy barked, wagging her tail like she’d just won something.
You crossed your arms, watching him.
“Still think this is a bad idea?”
Jack glanced up at you.
Then at Daisy.
Then back at you.
“…Yeah,” he said.
Daisy climbed into his lap again.
He didn’t move her this time.
“…A terrible idea.”
---
Later that night, Daisy was curled up between you on the couch, already fast asleep.
You were half-laying against Jack, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around you.
The apartment felt… different.
Fuller.
Quieter, somehow, despite the soft sounds of Daisy’s breathing.
Jack looked down at her, then at you.
“…This is kind of a lot,” he admitted.
You tilted your head. “The dog?”
He hesitated.
“…No.”
Your chest tightened slightly. “Oh.”
Jack shifted a little, his hand absentmindedly brushing against yours.
“I mean,” he added quickly, “not in a bad way. Just—” he exhaled, searching for the words. “This feels… real.”
You swallowed.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “It does.”
There was a pause.
Then his fingers intertwined with yours.
“…You sure you want this?” he asked quietly. “All of it?”
You looked at him—really looked at him.
At the exhaustion he carried, the softness he tried to hide, the way he was always bracing for things to fall apart.
And then at Daisy, fast asleep, completely at peace.
“Yeah,” you said. “I am.”
Jack studied you for a second longer.
Then nodded.
“…Okay.”
Daisy let out a tiny snore between you.
You both laughed.
And just like that—between long shifts, quiet moments, and one very clumsy dog—you built something that felt a little like home.
Summary: Life with Bucky Barnes had already been something you never thought you'd have: coffee in the mornings, quiet nights at the Tower, the steady warmth of being loved. But when the two of you adopt a golden retriever, domesticity deepens into something softer, brighter...something good.
Content Warnings: Fluff, domesticity, dog adoption, hints of intimacy/slow-burn heat, established relationship
It starts at the shelter.
You were supposed to be “just looking.” (Famous last words.) Sam had mentioned a fundraiser event, Steve offered to drive, and somehow you and Bucky ended up wandering the aisles of kennels with the smell of sawdust and sanitizer clinging to the air.
That’s when you saw him.
A golden retriever, older, his fur a little patchy and his left eye clouded with a pale scar. He wagged his tail like he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to have the energy of a puppy.
You crouched, grinning. “Hi, handsome.”
The dog shoved his nose through the bars, tail sweeping so hard his whole body wiggled.
Bucky came up behind you, metal hand resting on your shoulder. His voice was low, soft in a way you’d learned he reserved for you. “Looks like he found his person.”
You glanced up at him. “You mean us.”
His mouth twitched, the smallest smile ghosting across it. “Yeah. Us.”
And just like that, Chance was yours.
The first week was chaos in the way all good things are.
Chance followed Bucky everywhere, padding after him like a shadow. Bucky pretended to grumble, muttering about “clingy mutts,” but you caught him sneaking scraps of chicken under the table and tucking a blanket around Chance when he snored on the couch.
One night you came home late and found them both asleep on the floor, Bucky stretched on his side and Chance curled tight with his nose pressed against Bucky’s chest. Your heart nearly combusted on the spot. You took a picture before slipping quietly into your room, smiling like an idiot.
Domestic life bloomed around the three of you. Evening walks with Chance padding between you, stopping to bark at squirrels he’d never catch. Lazy mornings where Bucky brewed coffee, Chance snoring at his fee, you shuffling in with messy hair to steal his hoodie. Saturday afternoons were spent with the three of you squished on the couch, your knees tangled with Bucky’s while Chance sprawled across both your laps like he thought he weighed five pounds instead of seventy.
Bucky softened too. The man who once lived out of go-bags and safe houses now spent afternoons researching the best dog shampoo, evenings clipping Chance’s leash with gentle precision. You caught him once, forehead pressed to Chance’s head as he whispered something you couldn’t hear. When he noticed you watching, he just shrugged, cheeks faintly pink.
“He’s good,” Bucky said, scratching behind Chance’s ear. “Better than I deserve.”
You crossed the room and slid your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips into his hair. “You deserve good things, Buck. You’ve got them. You’ve got us.”
That earned you a smile, small but soft, the kind that tugged at the corner of his mouth and made your chest feel warm all the way through. He kissed the inside of your wrist, slow and lingering, before letting his lips trail down to lace your fingers with his.
The first time Chance caught you making out on the couch, he barked once, loud and indignant, before flopping down right between you with a huff.
“You’re cockblocking me, pal.”
You laughed into Bucky’s shoulder, half-smothered, as Chance shoved his big head into your lap like nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Guess we’ll have to keep it PG around him,” you teased, though your hand stayed tangled in Bucky's shirt anyway.
His eyes flicked down at you, heat sparking under the fondness this time. “No way.”
And he kissed you again anyway, with Chance wedged firmly between you like he was a part of the deal.
a/n: okayyyy!! i'm back and i'm going to be (maybe) posting a schedule for my fics soon so keep an eye out on that!! i'm moving soon so i probably won't update quite as much. happy reading!!!
My friend in Oklahoma needs help finding a home for their foster dog, Ms. Hazel!
Hello! We have been fostering Ms.Hazel for about 6 months! This super sweet girl is ready for a furrever home with lots of love and nurturing enrichment. She’s very playful, attentive, and treat motivated. She LOVES playing catch with treats and cuddles at bedtime. Hazel would be perfect in a structured home with lots of room to run. She does very well with older kids! When she’s excited, she has a tendency to be a bit jumpy, can sometimes pull on the leash but generally walks very well. Training has been going well with her and she would benefit from daily work and patience (but with her it always feels like play 😆). She’s very silly, loves to sniff flowers, eat bugs and go for car rides and long walks. She has been spayed, microchipped, and is up to date on all of her shots.
If you're interested, please email [email protected]. Willing to travel!
Located in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Currently, Christian and their mother are too disabled to care for Hazel, and are hoping to find someone who can take over foster care or bring her home for good. Please help spread this, especially to anyone who might be able to get them in touch with a resource who can take Hazel off their hands!
