#(went in to work this morning since the vet tech needed the help and since i have never gone in on a friday morning-

[gemharvest]

I'mn sofucking tired but also got more sleep last night than the past couple. I think it's cuz I couldn't sleep for more than like, 2 hours at a time but wtf ever. Still annoying.

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Fushiguro Megumi is responsible.

He always has been, from a younger age than he ought to have needed to be. It's engrained in him now, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bone—if something falls within his scope of responsibility, he's always diligent about seeing it through.

Here's the thing about Megumi, though, the thing he doesn't even really know about himself: he's a perfectionist. Because of this, he doesn't like to be responsible for things—at least not things that he can't guarantee will be a success. Things that he knows he can execute perfectly.

But the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. Convictions, no matter how strongly-held, can accidentally falter.

Megumi has never wanted to be a father.

And maybe this all ties back to his unconscious need to do things perfectly. The pathological insistence he feels to do things all by himself, and do them right. He relies on his experience to achieve these things, and looking back on what little experience he has with fathers, he knows it's not enough—not sufficient—to properly prepare him for a similar undertaking.

And he's fine with that.

He's got enough on his hands anyway, first as a student putting himself through veterinary school, and then with the clinic he works at. The elderly vet he studied under, and who owned the clinic, retired just before Megumi turned 30, and having worked together for almost a decade—first as a part timer, then a tech, then an assistant, and finally a partner—the old man gave Megumi the option of buying the business and taking it on.

Always thought of ya like a son, the old man had said to him one evening after closing, having dragged Megumi to the izakaya down the road to get a drink. Megumi doesn't even really like drinking very much, especially when he was due back at the clinic at dawn, but he indulged the old man who ended up ruddy cheeked and tipsy about as quickly as Megumi expected, given past experience. The conversation had taken him by surprise when his mentor had announced his retirement. 'S only right I pass it on to you, if ya want it.

The offer made something uncomfortable squirm in Megumi's gut. His fear of change rearing its ugly head. His doubt that he was ready to take on such a huge responsibility. The uncomfortably foreignness of being called someone's son.

Just think about it, the old man slurred, immediately picking up on Megumi's hesitation. Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever. Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually. Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

Ah, the future. Yet another thing Megumi hates, in all its unknowable infamy.

Megumi eventually helped the elderly vet into a taxi to get home, and then went back inside the izakaya to drown his sorrows—early shift be damned. His head was a mess, full of a terrible spiral of thoughts about his future that now looked so uncertain, and while the beer he was drinking certainly didn't help him make sense of them, he hoped, however briefly, it might help him to forget.

When Megumi woke the next morning to the alarm blaring from his cellphone, he had a splitting headache thanks to the beer and he was sleeping in the narrow entryway to his apartment with all his clothes (and his shoes) still on. But even in spite of all of that, and the smell of soap clinging to him that he didn't recognize, he felt lighter, somehow—surer about things.

The old man signed the business over to him a month later.

It's been four years since then, and while it hasn't been easy, Megumi's been taking responsibility just like he always has. He does what needs to be done to keep the lights on. He treats his staff well. He takes care of any animals that come through the clinic's door—no matter how dire, no matter how far gone, no matter how they get there.

Yuuji in particular takes advantage of this good nature—showing up frequently, sometimes even after all the other staff has gone home, with some woeful little creature he'd encountered. Sometimes it's a stray cat he'd been called at the fire station to help out of a tree, sometimes it's a dog that he'd found in the road on his drive home from work, or a little bird on the sidewalk. And he gives Megumi the same desperate look every time, the same beseeching eyes, and Megumi curses the fact that the two of them are the same when it comes to this particular responsibility—before letting him inside to examine the new patient.

It's pouring down rain one night, and Megumi has just sent everyone home for the day with a word of thanks for their hard work, when he thinks this very situation is about to repeat itself when he hears a frantic thump! thump! thump! against the glass of the clinic door. Megumi, in his office, pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd even turned the lights out in the lobby so that he could pretend he wasn't there. He knew Yuuji was on his way home from work based on the animated sticker he'd just sent him via text, before offering to pick up some beer and come over, but he hadn't replied—and certainly hadn't expected him to make it to the clinic so quickly.

Megumi sighs, pushing himself up from his desk and padding out in his slippers to the front of the clinic. It's dark out, and hard to see with no lights on in the lobby, but there's a little figure standing outside the rain-covered glass of the door. They appear to be trembling. Megumi pauses, confused, before fiddling with the lock and reaching over to flip on the light beside the door.

What he sees when the door slides open makes him freeze.

Before him is a little boy, no more than four or five, soaked through with rain and shivering in the cold. He has teary green eyes, black hair that's weighed down by the rain, and round, rosy cheeks. Megumi feels sick when he looks at him.

A mirror image of himself.

The man is so frightened that he doesn't even say anything, just stares in horror at the little boy trembling outside the door. Megumi's never heard of a ghost story like this, those were always Yuuji's thing, but that must be what this is. Some kind of spectral being who's shown up to—

A little hand reaches out and tugs on his pant leg.

"Please help me," the little boy says, his voice weak and thick with tears. "Mr. Vet, I need your help."

Megumi watches with wide eyes as the little boy opens his raincoat, revealing a small mass of fur tucked against his chest. A rabbit, Megumi surmises quickly, once he sees the ear; a bunny in fact, when taking into consideration its size. Megumi can't even tell if it's alive because the animal is so terribly still where it's cradled to the boys heart.

He feels another insistent tug at his pant leg, the boy's hand still firmly clutching it. He looks at the child, who seems more determined now, his tears still present but his gaze a little more resolute.

"So, can you help me?"

[tgmsunmontue]

With our pets, a house becomes our home

5k Hangster MeetCute (Explicit, but not very by my standards). Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to after he adopts her and moves to Corpus Christi to be a flying instructor.

I started this fic before I saw @yeagrave's art, but this post is 100% Jake's lockscreen (and those are a set of Jake's spare dog tags).

                Monday mornings generally suck. The people who have left their pets wellness until normal business hours because they didn’t want to pay the extra emergency fees. He quietly judges them. This Monday sucks more than most though, because he’s covering another vet on what is meant to be his day off. But he doesn’t want to make the admin staff have to reshuffle the thirty or so appointments that he now has facing him in a long gauntlet of monotony. Hopefully there will be something interesting that pops up.

                He deals with the standard checkups, listens to heart murmurs, administers vaccines, makes notes for the techs, gives instructions about diets he knows get ignored by owners who think they know better. He has to change his scrubs when a dog vomits on him and yeah… he wants his day off back with a deep burning passion but pushes through. He can shower and blob when he gets home and bitch and moan to his friends. They can compare Mondayitis stories and see who comes out worst.

                He steps into the waiting room, and there’s only two people left, one a woman with two kittens in a carrier, and the other a man cradling a puppy. He’s only got one left for his ticket today, and it’s a puppy so okay, at least he gets to look at a cute puppy and a cuter guy.

                “Brisket?”

                The guy blushes and Bradley can’t help his smile getting bigger as he gestures toward the consultation room.

                “Uh, hi.”

                “Hi, I’m Bradley. What brings Brisket in today?”

                “She needs a general checkup, and I wanted to register her with a vet since I moved here in the weekend… She needs vaccines I think? And to be fixed? And I wanted to ask some questions?”

                “So she’s here for the works… can I have a look?” Bradley asks and the guy blushes again, looks down at the tiny bundle who looks back at him adoringly and Bradley has a thing for guys who like animals. Couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t like animals, wouldn’t feel like he could trust them. He hands the puppy over to Bradley and he handles her gently, lets her lick and sniff at him a little before lowering her to the examination table.

                “Tell me about how you got Brisket,” Bradley says, running his hands down the little body, grinning as she happily licks his fingers, tail wagging enthusiastically. She’s very sweet. Most guys like having big dogs, so he’s genuinely curious as to whether this guy chose this dog, or if he’s here at the bequest of someone else. Girlfriend or boyfriend maybe. Purely out of professional courtesy.

                “Uh, I’ve wanted a dog for ages. Finally getting settled in one place for a while so I figured it was finally time you know? So I went to the shelter in San Diego, not really intending to adopt then and there…”

                “She’s a rescue?” Bradley says, and he’s a little surprised. Because if they’re not big dogs then they’re usually little dog breeds, so some hybrid-cross-breed that some breeder thinks will be in demand. This little thing hadn’t looked like any breed he was familiar with, but there’s so many new ones and he’s not usually up with them all.

                “Well yeah, of course. She just had such a friendly personality you know?”

                “She is very sweet natured,” Bradley agrees, because the guy is clearly besotted with his puppy, and it’s adorable. He listens to her heart and lungs, takes her temperature and soothes her through the discomfit.

                “So did you have paperwork showing what she’s already been vaccinated for? Most shelters give you adoption paperwork?”

                “Oh, yeah, they did. One second,” the guy says, pulling folded pieces of paper out of his pocket and handing them over. On the top of the paper are all the details of the dog, and then down the bottom the details of the new owner. Jake Seresin. At least he has a name now.

                “Okay, so she’s all up to date with all the vaccines, she’ll need to come back in six weeks for a booster. And we don’t do on the spot spaying or neutering, you’ll have to make an appointment when she’s a little older. Try not to let her out unattended, because we don’t want to be adding to the puppy population, regardless of the fact that she’d no doubt make gorgeous babies…You a first time dog owner?”

                “I grew up on a ranch, had lots of animals. Horses mainly. Well, beef stock. But lots of working animals, not pets. She’s my first.”

                “Well, you made a good choice. She’s got a lovely temperament. Nice and healthy,” Bradley states, laughing as she tries to chew on his thumb and he reaches for a dog toy from the jar. “Okay, so she’s going to be mouthy, she’ll want to chew on things as her adult teeth come through. You might find a couple of puppy teeth lying around but they usually just swallow them. It’s all normal. You have any questions?”

                “Uh…I… um. Made a list.”

                “Sensible,” Bradley says, and this guy’s adorable intensity is commendable, he wished more owners thought to ask their vets the questions rather than trusting Google.

                “You’ve, uh, already answered a few of them actually.”

                “That’s good, what else have you got?”

                He asks about diet and exercise, sleep and routines, anxiety and separation and toilet training and Bradley answers them all, writes down a few notes and links to some reputable websites. Recommends a puppy obedience course, steers him away from problematic dog toys which can cause more harm than good. The appointment definitely runs well over the time, but it’s his last of the day and he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be, and after the day he’s had this is a nice silver lining.

                “Anything else I can help you with?”

                “No, I think that’s it. Thanks so much, it’s really helped.”

                “You’re more than welcome. I guess I just have a question for you now.”

                “Of course, what is it?”

                “I don’t usually do this, but you want to grab a drink sometime?”

                “A drink. Like…A date?”

                “Yep.”

                “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

                “Great, let me get a card.” He grabs a business card, usually reserved for when he goes to conferences, carefully prints his personal cell phone number on the back and hands it over. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

…             …             …

                Jake gets back to his house and immediately lets Brisket out into the back garden, looks at the little rectangular piece of card and puts the number into his phone before he loses it. He puts the name in as Bradley but then follows it with the flame emoji, followed by the guy with the moustache and then the dog emoji. That’s enough to remind him of who exactly Bradley is. Not that he thinks he’s going to need the reminder.

                He spends some time looking at the websites Bradley has recommended, sends an enquiry about the puppy obedience classes. He’d already made an appointment for the booster shots and for getting Brisket fixed. Definitely doesn’t want to wait that long before seeing Bradley again. He grins. Only in town for five days and he’s got a guys number. Without even trying. Phoenix told him a puppy would help him make friends, that he needed as much help as he could, maybe she was onto something.

Hi Bradley. This is Jake. Let me know when you want to do that drink. I don’t start work until next week so currently free as a bird.

                It’s not too late, and it’s been a couple of hours. He’s not going to play hard to get. He’s never considered himself hard to get when the guy is as attractive as Bradley is, and he’s never been one to play games or overthink setting up dates or hookups. He’s hoping this is maybe more than a hookup.

I’m free most evenings. Tomorrow? Dinner?

                Jake grins, likes the idea of dinner even more than a drink, it’s a good sign; sends a message back, organizing a time but asking for recommendations of where they could go to eat.

…             …             …

                They settle at a table and quickly peruse the menu before placing orders with the hovering waitstaff. They’ve made superficial small-talk about the weather and how Brisket is doing, but he’s hoping he can find out more about Jake himself.

                “So you’re new to the area?”

                “Uh yeah, I guess. I lived here a while back but am back for work.”

                “And what do you do for work?”

                “I’m in the Navy. An aviator,” Jake says, like he’s a little unsure.

                “You’re shitting me…” Bradley says with a disbelieving laugh, because he’s had a guy tell him he was a naval aviator before. Except he hadn’t been and the lie had quickly bitten the other guy in the ass when Bradley had quickly realized and called him out on it. It had been a shame because Bradley had genuinely liked him.

                “Why would I lie?”

                “Well, some guys think it’ll sound impressive…”

                “Isn’t it?”

                “Well… maybe to some guys,” Bradley concedes.

                “Not you?”

                “No. Not to me. I’m more impressed you adopted a rescue, travelled across country with it and care about your puppy than what you might or might not do for your work.”

                “Most people care that I disappear for months on end. Or have a thing against the military in general.”

                “Huh,” Bradley states, realizing that that was maybe where his hesitance had come from. “I’m used to people being away for long periods,” Bradley states. Jake raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. I’m just… I was a Navy brat. Sort of.”

                “Sort of?”

                “Yeah. Grew up on bases, spent most of my life on them. We probably know some of the same people, if you’re actually a naval aviator…” Bradley says, still giving him an out, because maybe this guy is not realising the hole he’s dug.

                “How do you figure?”

                “My dad was a naval aviator, and until very recently my godfather was also a naval aviator, although he’s recently retired. Although I don’t think the Navy will actually ever get rid of him. He’s pretty entrenched.”

                “Yeah, what’s his name?”

                “Pete Mitchell,” Bradley provides, and Jake’s immediate response makes him relax a little. That’s definitely recognition of the name.

                “Maverick? Mav’s your godfather?”

                Bradley opens his mouth, snaps it shut again. Not just recognition but more than that. He's calling him Mav. Of fucking course he knows Mav, and he hadn’t used his callsign so this guy is legitimately a naval aviator.

                “You know Mav huh?”

                “Yeah. He’s… damn. He’s fucking insane but so good. He was brought in to train us and he’s just… that good.”

                “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego doesn’t need to be made any bigger.”

                “He deserves his ego, he’s fucking legendary.”

                “You sound like a fan.”

                “Yeah, I guess I am. He’s… worthy of fans.”

                “Yeah well, he’s my godfather. So there you go.”

                “Wait, are you little goose?”

                “Oh god…” Bradley groans.

                “You are!”

                “Yeah yeah… this is quickly losing the date vibe.”

                “Sorry, I can bring it back to that,” Jake says, and his hand is suddenly resting on Bradley’s, warm and dry, fingers stroking the back of his hand.

                “Yeah, think you better or you might strike out…”

                “Wouldn’t want that…” Jake says, and his eyes are dark and amused and Bradley feels a little thrill at being the subject of his intense gaze.

                “So, you’re an actual naval aviator.”

                “Yeah, no wonder you aren’t impressed if you grew up hearing about Mav’s exploits. Fuck.”

                “Trust me, I find you plenty impressive.”

                “Good to know,” Jake says, his smile clearly pleased. “I’m one of the new flight instructors. Have a three-year stint here and Kingsville unless they need me for something special.”

                “Nice. Do you like teaching?”

                Their conversation changes as they talk more, discussing what their upbringings were like, their families, respective careers, all of Bradley’s current animals, favorite food and drink. It’s easy, their humor similar and gently teasing at times, making laughter come easily. It’s one of the best first-dates he’s ever had and it’s not until there’s a polite cough that he looks up to see the rest of the restaurant is empty, the waitstaff having clearly cleared up and are now just waiting on them. A quick glance at his phone tells him it’s nearly midnight and his mind bugs out a little.

                “Shit, sorry. I guess we got caught up talking.”

                “It’s fine.”

                He grabs the bill, leaving a generous tip for keeping them and tells Jake he can grab the bill next time, which has him murmuring next time huh under his breath, close to Bradley’s ear as they walk close together as they step outside. There are only two cars left in the lot and he guesses the staff must park somewhere else. He walks Jake to his car, only a few yards from his own truck.

                “I had a really good time tonight…” Bradley starts.

                “Me too. Wouldn’t mind doing it again…”

                “What are you doing Saturday?”

                “Having dinner with this hot guy I just met…”

                “What a weird coincidence, so am I…”

                He shifts forward, eyes searching Jake’s face to make sure there isn’t any hesitation before placing a gentle kiss on Jake’s mouth. He pulls back slowly, his lips quirking in amusement when Jake quickly gives him another kiss back, slightly firmer and longer and he feels the flicker of warm anticipation come to life in his belly. Potential something.

                “Don’t suppose I can tempt you to come back to my place?”

                “I’m definitely tempted, but I’ve got to get home. Dogs.”

                “Oh yeah, of course.”

                “Bring Brisket on Saturday. She can meet the pack…”

                He doesn’t want to mention that Jake could also bring all her gear, as well as a spare toothbrush for himself.

…             …             …

                They’ve been messaging since dinner on Tuesday and Jake feels completely settled into his house now, he’s driven to both Corpus Christi and Kingsville to familiarize himself with the routes. He’s taken Brisket to her first puppy obedience class, figured out the most convenient grocery store. All week he’s been looking forward to Saturday, packs some things and leaves them in has car, so if he needs any of it they’ll be close at hand. If it’s effectively a sleepover backpack for him and Brisket that’s between him and Brisket.

                He pulls into the drive of the house address Bradley had given him and looks at the tall fence that surrounds the back garden, can already hear barking and he looks down at Brisket who is sitting there, ears pricking forward at the sound of other dogs. He gets out, grabs her bag of stuff and carries her toward the house, glad she at least seems curious about the barking rather than terrified. He rings the bell, eyes widening at the sudden increase in barking and then Bradley is there, smiling at him behind the wavy glass of the door. Immediately the barking ceases, although there is a small yap, and then the door opens.

                “Hi. Come on in.”

                “Hi. Uh. Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”

                “Trust me, if anything she’ll rule them with an iron paw… feel free to put her down.”

                Jake doesn’t particularly want to, but Bradley is looking expectant, as are the five dogs who are all sitting and waiting obediently. He knows they aren’t all Bradley’s dogs permanently, that he’s fostering three and dog-sitting one, but he can’t remember which one is which. Most of the dogs are normal sized, one is huge though, and he wishes he remembered which one Bradley said was his. Then a cat walks in and insolently stalks in front of the line of dogs and collapses at Bradley’s feet.

                “Curtiss,” Bradley states, waving a hand at the cat with a sardonic sigh. The fact that none of the dogs have moved, except one, the largest, whose tail had started wagging enthusiastically makes Jake feel more confident about putting Brisket down. She is nowhere near as disciplined as any of the other dogs. Hell, the cat is probably more disciplined than Brisket, despite the fact it is a cat and takes direction from no one. Understandably she runs from him to Bradley, then to the cat, then back to Jake, then takes turns running to and around each dog and prancing playfully, like she expects them to play with her.

                “I’m going to give them the release signal and it’s going to get chaotic, but just trust me okay? They’re well trained.”

                He believes it, but sure enough in less than a second there’s barking again, six dogs suddenly all barking and then they’re running and Brisket is chasing after them and Bradley grins at him.

                “I gave them the signal for outside. Brewster is too big to not be well trained, and he generally gets all other dogs quickly following his lead.”

                “What kind of dog is he again?”

                “A Leonberger. He was surrendered to a local shelter because the owners couldn’t afford to keep him. He eats a lot. He went unadopted because of the costs associated with feeding him, raft of potential health issues as he aged and because he had zero training. I’ve had him for five years now.”

                “He’s massive,” Jake says, and he knows he’s stating the fucking obvious but when Bradley had said he had just the one big dog, he had never imagined this. He’s pretty sure Brisket is the size of one of his paws.

                “Yep. But as I said, he’s very well trained. I work with him every day as well. Come on, I promised you dinner.”

                “You cooked?”

                “I did, but it’s only one of the five meals I can make, so don’t go thinking I’m accomplished or anything.”

                “As long as it’s edible.”

                He takes the offered beer, watches as Bradley dishes out some pasta dish along with some garlic bread and then directs him to sit at a high bench on bar stools rather than at the dining table.

                “We don’t want Brewster putting his mouth into our food, at least up here we have a slightly better chance of protecting it.”

                “I thought you said he was really well trained?”

                “Not when I’m eating food. All bets are off if I’m eating.”

                Jake laughs and just like it did on Tuesday, conversation flows easily. Bradley can follow his work talk easily, obviously used to Navy talk because of Mav, his own work stories are equal parts hilarious and terrifying. He’s attentive, giving Jake his full attention and he finds he likes that a lot more than he thought he would. They finish dinner, Bradley quickly stacking his dishwasher before feeding the dogs. He watches as Bradley holds their attention before giving them the signal that they can eat and he can’t help but be impressed. He’s pretty sure Brisket is only going to have to look at him and he’s going to cave to her every whim. He does try and look like he’s not a complete soft touch in front of Bradley as he feeds her, but he doesn’t think he succeeds.

                They go into the back lawn and throw balls for the dogs, starting an elaborate game of keep-away for about twenty minutes before Bradley offers him dessert. He wants to ask if it’s Bradley himself on offer but doesn’t, instead takes the bowl of fruit and ice-cream and makes himself comfortable on the sofa, apparently safe from Brewster as he’s afraid of the scent of fruit. There’s a collection of boardgames, none of which he’s familiar with so he asks about them and learns that it’s another of Bradley’s hobbies.

                When they’re finished he follows Bradley back to the kitchen, notices it’s much quieter, almost dark outside and there’s no more barking and he looks around, suddenly anxious.

                “She’s just over there…” Bradley says, his lips twitching with a smile and Jake’s not sure if he’s laughing at him or… oh. That’s fucking cute. Brisket is curled up on Brewster, she’s somehow managed to climb up the almost mountain like body and curl up on top of him. He grabs his phone and snaps a photo, and then a few more because one is never going to be enough.

                “She’s all tuckered out… You going to wake her up?”

                Jake looks up at Bradley’s tone, and his eyes are hooded and Jake feels an immediate jolt of arousal spark through him.

                “No… she looks far too comfortable. Think I need to go to bed too…”

                “Yeah?”

                “Definitely. Show me the way…”

…             …             …

                They’ve not talked about what they’re doing, not in the actual physical and practical sense. Not in terms of sex and he’s definitely been raised in a house with the rule of if you can’t talk about it you shouldn’t be doing it. Which actually only goes so far when you really don’t want to share details of your sex life with your surrogate parents, or hear anything about theirs. He does agree in principle though, and there’s only one way to find out. Conversation hasn’t been difficult between them so he doesn’t expect this to be awkward either. He shifts slightly so he can rest his head on his hand while his other hand runs up and down from Jake’s shoulder to his hip.

                “Anything you don’t like?”

                “Uh…”

                “Anything you do like? Or prefer? I’m easy…”

                “Lucky me.”

                “Can I touch?”

                “Yeah…course.”

                Bradley lets his hand rub Jake’s cock through his underwear as he kisses him, enjoys the feel of Jake’s body moving against his hand, body and mouth. Jake’s free hand runs through the hair on his chest, then his shoulders, down his arm before there are blunt nails digging into his ass; then finally a large palm rubs his cock far too fleetingly to be anything more than a frustrating taste before it starts back at the beginning.

                “This okay?”

                “Yeah, look, if you do something I don’t like I’ll say something okay?”

                “And if I do something you like?”

                “Actually, you could work on that a little bit more…”

                He kisses him hard then, grinds their hips together and palms an ass cheek in his hand, holding Jake tight against him.

                “Yeah, fuck…”

                He shifts, pushes Jake back to lie on his back and then straddles one of Jake’s thighs. He runs both hands down Jake’s naked chest, leans down to kiss him again, hands on either side of Jake’s shoulders. Jake looks good, is confident with it, Bradley can’t help but find it attractive. He shifts a little, Jake’s hands are all over, hips lifting up to try and rub against him and Bradley would tease him for being impatient but he is starting to feel the same.

                Their breathing is getting shallower, and he kisses over Jake’s collar bone, licks a little into the slight dip in his clavicle and assumes it’s a little ticklish from the way Jake laughs a little. He runs a hand down Jake’s side, his mouth moving down his chest but his eyes are on Jake’s neck and mouth, muscles taut and mouth open as he breathes harshly. He’s clearly given up waiting for Bradley to pay attention to his dick, has his own hand rubbing himself, occasionally detouring to rub Bradley’s dick as well. He moves his mouth over Jake’s pectorals, sucks gently at one nipple, wanting to know if this is something Jake –

                 “Fucking hell,” Jake exclaims, body jerking up as if electrified and Bradley pulls back immediately.

                “Good or bad?”

                “Good. Do it again …”

                Bradley grins and seals his mouth around his right nipple again and sucks, flicking his tongue over the harder nub of flesh in his mouth and Jake’s entire body arches again and Bradley can’t believe how good he looks. How good he feels.

                “Fuck, why does that feel so good?”

                “Lots of nerve endings…”

                “It was a fucking rhetorical question…”

                He snorts, lowers his mouth back and presses down with his lower body at the same time, wants to give something for Jake to grind against, push him toward climax. Jake is reading his body easily, his hips angling slightly to thrust against the juncture of his thigh and hip, hands both on Bradley’s lower back urging him closer, pulling him down and Bradley lets a little more of his weight press down. The moan Jake lets out is gratifying and he reaches a hand between them and presses harder, feels the dampness from where he’s leaking pre-come.

                “Lube?”

                “No, I like it a little, uh, rough… you go ahead though, if you want…”

                “Nope, I’m all good…”

                His lips are red and swollen and Bradley wants to make him look like this all the time. He runs a finger under the elastic of the underwear and then Jake’s hips are up and he shifts back and out of the way. Watches as Jake pushes them down and he can’t actually get them off with the way Bradley is half-kneeling over him, one thigh between Jake’s legs. He shuffles down the bed. Drags his hands down Jake’s legs, tugs the underwear off before moving back up, placing gentle kisses on knees, thighs and hips before he licks up the length of Jake’s cock, kisses the head and lets his moustache scrape against the skin gently. Jake is shifting, clearly wanting to move more but holding himself back and he’s got far too much control for Bradley’s liking.

                He wraps his hand around Jake’s cock, a little firmer than he would usually, but Jake had said he likes it a little rough. He jerks it steadily, watches as Jake’s eyes squeeze shut, mouth opening in a silent gasp and he keeps going. It’s been a while, but he knows how to multitask and he wants to hear and see what will happen next. Knows getting Jake off is likely going to make him come as well. He settles his mouth over the same nipple he’d sucked before, and it’s a little pink, and he sucks again. The resulting words from Jake’s mouth are nonsensical in between loud gasps for air and what he recognizes as his name. He doesn’t say anything, can’t really, with his mouth busy sucking intently. His hand has sped up and he’s resting a fair bit of his weight on Jake’s leg, partly pinning Jake beneath him and his cock is hard and leaking. One of Jake’s hands is fisted in his hair, holding Bradley to his chest and then his whole body goes taut like a rubber band being stretched before it snaps back and then Jake is coming all over his hand and he gentles the sucking to more gentler licks and swirls of his tongue because it’s most likely going to be a little bruised.

                 “Ungh… fuck…”

                He doesn’t bother moving very much, just shoves his own underwear down enough to take his cock in his hand and jerk himself off, hard and desperate to come, no need to try and make it last longer or hold back. He moves enough to kiss Jake and he feels a hand try to come and help him and while he appreciates the intent it isn’t something that is even a consideration right now, he’s too close and he doesn’t need much…

                “Bradley…”

                Yeah, that’ll do it. He comes with a groan, his come joining Jake’s on his stomach. He rests his forehead against Jake’s neck while he tries to steady his breathing. Their breathing is the only sound he can hear outside of his body, heartbeat pounding in his ears, waits a moment before he lets out a long shuddery breath and kisses Jake on the chin.

                “You okay?”

                “What’s that saying, ask a stupid question?”

                “Get a stupid answer…”

                “Yeah.”

                He grabs some tissues, passes the box to Jake and they wipe themselves clean and he feels fantastic, hopes Jake feels similarly. He kisses him, takes the dirty tissues from his unresisting fingers and lies down beside him.

                “Stupidly okay. You?”

                “Yeah. That sounds about right. Damned good for a first run…”

                “Mmm. Imagine what it will be like when we’ve got a few more test runs behind us.”

                “Always room for improvement.”

                “That’s very true… I’m just going to go and let the dogs out but I’ll be right back. If you wanted to stay that is?”

                “Yeah, staying sounds good. Just… uh. Brisket normally sleeps on the bed with me.”

                “Think she’s found a new bed.”

                “Lucky for me I won’t be lonely I guess.”

                Bradley grins.

…             …             …

2 MONTHS LATER

                He’s running a little late, but not by a lot. He’s messaged both Jake and Mav to say he’s running a bit behind due to a surgery requiring a bit more time. He walks into the restaurant and spies them sitting at a booth near the back, tells the hostess he’s with them and raises his hand in greeting as Mav is standing to give him a hug.

                “Bradley!”

                “Hey Mav, good to see you,” Bradley says, returning the tight embrace.

                “Good to see you too. You’re looking good. This is… Jake.”

                Bradley leans down and gives Jake a kiss, takes his time and licks into his mouth.

                “Hi.”

                “I hope you don’t meet everyone that way…”

                “Only my boyfriend Mav,” Bradley says, laughing. “You didn’t tell him?” he asks Jake.

                “Nope, one of my joys in life is keeping him on his toes,” Jake says, grinning at them both as they sit. Mav is rolling his eyes and huffing, but Bradley can tell he’s a little pleased. At least he knows now why Bradley really didn’t care about him inviting someone else along to dinner.

                “How long has this been going on?” Mav asks, looking between them with interest.

                “Couple of months,” Bradley provides.

                “You move fast,” Mav says to Jake dryly.

                “What can I say? I know a good thing when I see one.”

                “Plus Brisket loves me.”

                “She does have exceptional taste.”

                “Much like her owner. Although don’t you get the names mixed up? Brisket, Bradley and Brewster? There’s definitely a theme there…”

                Jake blinks, looks at Bradley and he just shrugs.

                “We could get a couple more pets and name them Brownie and Bruno and you’d have the whole set.”

                Jake laughs, eye brow quirks;

                “Sounds like a plan.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 28 (The Trouble With Marcus Flex)

Heather received great news from the developers of VetConnect when they agreed to help her build the PetConnect extension. They believed it would be successful and might even give her enough to buy out the Landgraabs, but for now, she just had to get it finished.

At work the next morning, she thanked her problematic vet tech, Marcus Flex, for the idea. But ever-flirty Marcus took it as something more.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Heather pulled back immediately. "Half the clients who walk in here might fall to a puddle at your feet when you kiss them like that, but I'm your employer, Marcus."

"I'm sorry, Doc. I thought-"

"I should fire you. I can't because you kissed me and it'll look personal, but this is your last chance. Pull your socks up around here, or you'll have to find another place to work."

He was twenty-one years old and noncommittal by nature, but he finally started paying attention in his evening classes and began to pull his weight around the clinic.

Then one day, a girl came in with her family’s German Shepherd, Jax. She wiped tears from her eyes as she signed him in.

Instantly, Marcus was taken with her, approaching her and her dog with more trepidation than Heather had ever seen in him. "Hi, uh, my name's Marcus Flex. I'm sorry to see you looking so sad, but we'll take care of your dog and make him feel good as new."

"My mom was supposed to bring Jax for his annual check-up today, but she just died of heatstroke from the heat wave," she said gloomily. "I miss her so much."

Marcus wanted to reach out and comfort her, but his boss was watching nearby with a stern glare. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Miss...?"

"Thomasine Chopra."

Heather poured herself an espresso and smiled at Thomasine and her pet. "How are classes going at Deadgrass Isle High School, Thomasine?"

"We took a few weeks off to mourn my mom. Dad took us to the city to distract us, I think, but I couldn't sit through math class so I'm grateful. Needless to say, my last year of classes will start a little late."

Marcus looked away, flustered.

"I'm so sorry," Heather said. "When I heard about your mother's death I couldn't believe it. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"The card was really sweet, and Jax loves his Buttercups. Everyone in town's been great, and they've made things a little bit easier."

"Well, Marcus will take extra good care of Jax today, and I'm always here if you or your family need anything. Not just for Jax."

Heather's endlessly flirtatious vet tech had caused her as much grief as he'd proven he wasn't entirely hopeless. She couldn't help but think he needed guidance, and while they closed up at the end of the day, Heather warned him to wait for Thomasine Chopra. "I don't care if she's 18 already. If you think your feelings mean anything this time, keep your distance until graduation or I will fire you."

Marcus nodded, still a little shell-shocked by his new affections.

Could Heather continue to manage motherhood, the Landgraabs, and her clinic? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: When Heather opened her clinic, Marcus was one of the sims she could hire and I went for it immediately because I love playing with premades. But then Marcus became an obnoxious NPC who made out with every single customer constantly because the Romantic Aura Action Plan had been default activated in Brindleton Bay. It all gave unflirty Heather a negative 'witnessed crass moment' moodlet EVERY TIME. So I finally decided to give him a storyline with the intention of moving him into the save file so he'll age naturally, make nooboos, etc. Somewhat unfortunately this is the only unmarried sim Marcus wanted because I also hadn't adjusted my age gap romance settings after playing the Ultimate Decades Challenge in my last save, so YA and teens could flirt etc.

All this to say I promise I won't let Marcus become a complete toad. Since I love my premades, I'm plotting a decent arc because this save did him a little dirty.

[reidgraygubler]

sweet creature (wes/reader)pt 24

Title: Sweet Creature part 24 Couple: Wes/Fem!Reader Category: slowburn (will contain 18+ content) Content Warning: D/s dynamic, a pet passing, lmk if i missed anything Word Count: 1,932 Summary: Puppy’s having a rough day and takes advantage of a gift Wes got her. A/N: okay, y’all… it’s the kennel chapter. I hope this is what you were expecting/hoping for lmao. It’s not exactly super long. Just a filler for the most part. Also, please PLEASE skip this part of any sort of animal/pet death is a trigger/trauma for you. 

Previous Part   Series Masterlist   Next Part

I thought I was tough. I thought I had gotten roughed up enough, working as a vet tech, growing up with parents as vets, and being around animals my entire life. The hard spot should’ve grown by now. But today… Today was one of those days where the hard spot grew soft and my emotions were wild. 

I had woken up earlier than usual. We can blame that on Ollie literally throwing up right between me and Wes. It was only a couple hours before either of our alarms would go off, but it was early enough for us to be annoyed. Especially since we weren’t exactly expecting to have to clean up vomit at 4 in the morning. While I took care of Ollie, Wes cleaned up the mess and ran our laundry. We actually ended up taking Ollie into the clinic with us to keep a close eye on him.

But it felt like the day only went downhill from there. From the moment we stepped into the clinic, something felt… Off. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it per se. I just knew that something was going to happen and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was or when it was going to happen. Something told me that Wes had that same feeling too.

It was rather unfortunate timing. We were nearing the end of the day. Cleaning up the last mess when a family of three came in with their dog. The father calmly explained what had happened to Wes while the mother was in frantics and the daughter was clearly distraught. Wes had Jessica take the mom and daughter to his office while he helped me bring the dog to an exam room. 

“Did you hear what happened?” I quietly asked, my eyes switching between looking up at Wes and down at the dog, who was clearly in pain. My whole entire body hurt as I looked at the dog.

“Babes,” Wes said softly, trying to get my attention back on him. My eyes flew up to meet his. I could tell in his eyes that something not good was about to come out of his mouth. “You should go tell the family they should come say goodbye,” he whispered as he looked down at the dog. I stared at him, shocked that he wasn’t even going to try.

“You’re… You’re not going to try?”

“I’m surprised she was alive when they brought her in. There was nothing I could do. And you know if I could do something I would do it,” he explained. I stared at him before swallowing roughly. 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I get that. I’ll go get them,” I said through a broken whisper. Wes looked at me as I turned to leave the room. 

Stupid family who got careless. That’s so dumb. How did they not see their dog escape? And how did they not see her when they were backing out? Fucking idiots. I just don’t understand how people can be so fucking careless.

Woah, okay, okay, calm down there. Like, seriously. There’s no need to yell at a family who is literally about to lose their pet, who was probably a part of the family. It was just a mistake, that’s all. Mistakes happen. They obviously didn’t mean for this to happen. 

I took a final deep breath as I stood outside the door of Wes’ office. When I pushed the door open, I was met with the grieving family. The daughter was sitting on the couch with Ollie’s head in her lap. I hated how the parents instantly looked at me, it was almost as if they knew what I was coming to say.

“Wes-Sorry. Doctor Taylor thinks you should come say good-bye,” I whispered as I looked at each person in the room. The daughter’s shoulders slumped slightly as she looked over at the dad. I just had to get through this part of the day, and then I can go home and just go to sleep. 

I hate this part of the job.

Once everything was said and done, I found myself sitting in the break room. A half eaten apple sat on the table in front of me. My appetite quickly ceased to exist the moment I took a bite from the fruit and tears rimmed my eyes. I should eat, really. I just… I just wanted to go home

Jessica stepped in, but the moment she saw I was having a breakdown she left. And then moments later, Wes stepped in and sat down across from me.

“Why don’t you take my car and Ollie and go back home? I know you’ve had a rough day,” Wes said, offering me his car keys. I stared at them for a moment before looking up at his face.

“How are you going to get home then?” I asked as I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. Wes stared at me and took my other hand into his, placing the keys into my palm.

“I’ll get an uber or get a ride of Jessica,” he explained as he pulled me closer to him. I pressed my face into his body and let out a soft sob. My chin pressed into his chest as I looked up at him.

“You wouldn’t actually get a ride with Jessie. She’d tourture you alive,” I whispered. Wes smiled softly before holding my face.

“I’ll live. Go home. If not for you, for me,” he said as he his thumb brushed away any tears on my cheeks. I stared at him and nodded, actually taking the keys from him.

“Okay. Fine,” I exasperated a sigh before stepping away from him. Wes quickly pulled me back into his arms and hugged me tight. 

“Sometimes shit gets tough, I’m sure you already knew that. So it’s okay to feel this way. I wouldn’t expect you to be okay or happy all the time. You’re allowed these feelings, Pup,” he whispered to me. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Go watch a movie or take a nap,” he quickly added. I nodded once again before parting ways with him. “Love you,” he said as I made it to the door. I swallowed roughly and looked over at him.

“Love you too,” I said with a fake smile. With one final breath of air, I stepped out of the break room and found my way back to Wes’ office. Ollie was lying on his couch, head resting on the arm rest. When I stepped in, Ollie stepped off the couch and prodded over to me, head low like he knew I was having a rough day. A soft breath of air fell from my mouth as I slowly melted to the ground. Ollie laid beside me, his head rested on my leg as I broke down. I’m sure Wes knew that I was probably having more of an episode in his office before I took off for the day. Surely he wouldn’t mind. 

When I was good and sure I was ready to leave, I did. Ollie being the best co-pilot a person could ask for, especially during the middle of a breakdown.

Sending her home was the best possible thing I could have done. She was already having a rough day as it was. A family’s pet dying was really the last thing we were expecting. I knew how hard it was for her. The day probably would have gone even further down hill had she stayed and worked. She needed the break. 

I knew when I sent her home that I’d be elbow deep in paperwork and that it’d probably be a late night. It’s probably a good thing that I’m my own boss and basically make my own rules. All this paperwork could wait for tomorrow or another day. I had people at home waiting for me and who needed me. 

So taking the executive decision, I packed all my things up, shoved my laptop and a couple folders into my bag, and took off… Only to wait for my Uber to show up. Then 15 minutes later I arrived home, my car in the driveway like I was expecting.

The first step into the house was eerily silent. I knew it’d be quiet and I was expecting Puppy and Ollie to be fast asleep in my room. And that’s where I went. The only thing that I wasn’t expecting was for Puppy to be napping in her kennel. I had just assumed she’d be curled up on the bed with Ollie cuddled up beside her. But instead the roles were reversed. She was fast asleep in the kennel and Ollie was taking the whole bed. 

I sighed deeply, looking at the exhausted girl, taking in how she was cuddling the silly little stuffed animal I had gotten her for her birthday, which at this point was months ago. It was probably a good thing that she was asleep. Her day has not been good. It wasn’t what she deserved.

I tried to be quiet as I kicked off my shoes and pushed them to the side. Ollie quickly noticed my presence and stood up, carefully making his way to the edge of the bed. I stopped my process of changing and gave a bit of attention to my boy before getting out of my scrubs. 

Ollie whined slightly, bothered that I had moved my attention to the girl on the floor. But he quickly fell silent when he watched me get on the floor and maneuver my way into the already small-ish kennel. The worry of him trying to slip in between us did cross my mind. But I think Puppy would be rather okay with the extra company and extra cuddles.

I struggled to get comfortable in the tight space. My biggest challenge was trying to not wake up the sleeper beside me. Unfortunately, I lost that challenge when she stirred and moved closer to me.

“Wes?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper as she shot a hand to hold my arm. My shoulders slumped slightly as I looked down at her. Her eyes were cracked open and I could see the exhaustion and sadness settled in them. 

“Shh, go back to sleep,” I whispered as I stared at her. She hummed and allowed me to get comfortable beside her. I looked at her as she scooched closer to me. A soft chuckle came from me as I wrapped my arms around her and held her close to me.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked as she tilted her head up to look at me. My eyes met hers and I hated how much I could see how tired she looked. 

“I live here?”

“I mean in my kennel,” she clarified. I laughed and shook my head.

“You looked like you needed someone… And I didn’t want you to be alone,” I answered. She hummed and nodded as her head rested against my body.

“I think maybe you didn’t want to be alone,” she sighed. I didn’t even get the chance to respond before I heard the faintest of snores. I rolled my eyes as I squeezed her tight. 

She’s lucky I love her though. I don’t just crawl into anyone’s kennels to cuddle with them. 

Honestly, I’d do anything to protect this woman and keep her in my life for as long as I live.

part twenty-five

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor. 

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab. 

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet. 

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road. 

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-" 

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky. 

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves. 

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank. 

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away. 

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her. 

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there. 

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough. 

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly. 

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning. 

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god." 

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides. 

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them. 

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+"  full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas. 

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

[rachaelswrites]

Being Wes’ Daughter

Wes x Daughter!reader

What being Wes’ daughter includes

A/N: This is my first Wes fic! Hope you all like it!

-He is literally the best dad ever

-You two are best friends

-Even with his busy work schedule, he never misses anything important

-He’s been a vet since you were a baby so by now, the whole office knows you

-You spend most of your time at the office either in the back with him or in the reception/waiting area

-When you were little, you followed him around like a shadow and everyone thought it was adorable. You were always called “Mini Dr. Wes” (the nickname has stuck around though)

-Once you were old enough, your dad let you work there and help out when you could

-You grew up at the vet’s office so you grew up with animals and loved them. You planned to follow in his footsteps but Wes would never force you to

-At home, anytime you need homework help, your dad is your go to person. He went to vet school so he knows a lot (he’s a nerd but so are you)

-All your friends at school have a crush on your dad. You always hear them talking about him but you brush it off. It’s been that way since middle school

-You’re convinced some of your teachers also have a crush on him. There’s no need for several of your teachers to call him in once a month to tell him about how amazing of a student you are

-He already knows that

-Since he’s single, you’re used to him having dates over but most of the time, you choose to stay out of the house for those. Those dates don’t stick around for long anyways

-Both if you are with it just being you two

-Normally, Wes is the sweetest person anyone could meet but if someone dare hurt his little girl, they better run

-He has threatened to use a scalpel on some boy who stood you up on a date one time but you knew he would never actually hurt anyone

-In reality, he would try and cheer you up in whatever way he could think

-Most of the times it was between watching sad (or happy) movies or if you were feeling up to it, he would take you into the office and let you cuddle any of the dogs or cats

-Even if you weren’t feeling down, you would sneak into the back of the office and cuddle the animals

-Several times Wes or some other vet tech would have to shoo you away back to where you should be

-On days where you weren’t working or annoying everyone, you would be at your dad’s desk either sleeping or doing homework

-Wes can’t count how many pictures he has of you over the years sleeping at his desk or in other places around the office

-He also has many photos of you with the animals and he has several framed on his desk

-His job is relatively easy going but sometimes there are periods of time where it’s stressful

-You know on these days to give him some space so he can decompress. He does the same for you when school gets stressful

-The only times when your dad comes home from work and isn’t happy to see you is days where he had to help put a pet down. You can tell instantly when it’s one of those days

-These days are hard for him because he should be used to it by now but it still hurts him to have to see a family say goodbye to a pet. He also knows that he shouldn’t bring work home with him like this since it’s hard on both you and him

-You don’t like being around the office when a pet has to be put down. It’s one of the hardest things for you

-He makes sure to keep you away from it if he can. Once he gets home, he doesn't bring it up (neither do you)

-You just make sure to be there for him if he needs it

-Wes isn’t the type of dad to force you to do anything or make too many rules. He’s pretty laid back

-He doesn’t have to worry too much since you don’t really cause too much trouble for him. His only two rules are 

Don’t get pregnant

Don’t die

-If you do go out and get into some trouble, he comes and gets you. He doesn’t bother trying to talk to you until morning but by then, you’re already apologizing and feeling bad so he doesn’t punish you too hard

-He prefers to work as close to a 9-5 as he can but most times he has to go in earlier and only occasionally stays past 6. 

-He doesn’t like leaving you alone for too long of the day. He’s your dad and he’s supposed to be with you, not at work. He sticks to that as much as he can

Taglist

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @dudele @prentisswrites @laura-naruto-fan1998 @multifamdomfan12 @aquariuslavenderhoney @jjmybeloved @vxidsti1es @waxingmoonwrites @benbarnesbussy @hallecarey1 @freds-slut  @ssa-uglywhore27 @czlypso (for some reason I can’t tag you) @sweetpeterparker @spiritualchange @im-in-love-with-pizza-bites

[anotheronechicagobog]

Ethan Choi x reader I Love and Lies

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

A/N: Swearing, cheating, jealousy, mention of sex, pregnancy, depression

A/N 2:  Requested by @raveenasblog​ Sorry this took so long, I haven’t been super motivated to write long works for a while.

You sighed as you collapsed back into your chair, the force causing you to wheel backwards into your desk. “Ow, fuck.” You collected yourself before someone from the team saw, they’d never let you live it down. Just in time too, as Hailey burst through your door. “Y/L/N, we need you to run some financials and internet history on a suspect, David Johnson, male, 42, DOB 20th of September 1978.”

“Got it.”

“You okay? You seem down.”

“No, but it’s kind of personal. And not my personal, someone else’s personal. Long story.”

“Oh, well I hope it works out. And if you want to get your mind off it we can go out with Kim for deep dish.”

“Thanks.”

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After Crockett Marcel joined the staff at Gaffney medical centre you not only befriended him quickly, but you had also been trusted with a secret you couldn’t keep. April Sexton cheated on Ethan Choi with Crockett Marcel. Ethan was a tad older than you and a serious navy vet, so you didn’t have a lot to bond on at first. It was when you’d run into each other at your favourite Italian restaurant after you’d both been on god-awful blind dates that your friendship started to bloom. The restaurant had been packed and there wasn’t room for both of you to have a table to yourself. Even though you didn’t know each other well, it seemed like the best question. It became a tradition for you two to meet up after blind dates or setups and decompress. It helped deal with the fact that neither of you had friends good at match-making. 

When you’d caught April at that party your heart broke for one of your best friends. You didn’t know what to do. Ethan was in love with April, above all else, and he wanted to marry her. He’d asked for your and Maggie’s help with ring shopping. You knew that things were a little tense between them, but you’d always thought so highly of April, you never thought that she would do something like this. And to make things more difficult, you were under a bit of a time crunch. You had to tell him soon or he’d be upset that you’d kept it from him. And he had been deployed for two months with no contact. He was coming back in a couple of days and you weren’t sure how to break it to him. You knew that it would be best if April was the one who told him, but she’d told you outright days after it happened that Ethan didn’t need to know. But she was wrong and you knew it.

Ethan deserved to know that the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and have children with ‘accidentally’ kissed someone else. It broke your heart but you had to tell him when he got back.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’d been back for three days and still hadn’t seen you. Citing ‘April this’ and ‘April that’. And while you could understand one day, three was suspicious, and you knew that April was trying to keep him away from you. You were furious, how dare she cheat on him and then try to cover it up. 

You’d dropped by med later that day when you texted Ethan and he actually said yes. Apparently April had to work a double so he was free from her clutches. When you arrived at the entrance in your car to pick him up it was quite clear that she was trying to stop him, visibly panicking and grabbing onto him. 

“Ethan are you ready to go?”

“NO! He- He’s not going. He... Is going to work another shift. Or go home. Just... He is NOT going anywhere with you!”

“Why not, April?”

“Because... Because she... She’s in love with you!”

“What?”

“You think I’m what?”

“Yes! She told me at Crockett and Maggie’s party after you left! She said that she was going to try to come between us!”

“I did not say that. I saw April kissing the new doctor, Crockett Marcel, at the party he and Maggie threw. I tried talking to her about it, but she said that she and Marcel didn’t think you needed to know.”

“I can’t believe you Y/N.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard him Y/N.”

“I didn’t say any of that. I don’t love you, Ethan, not romantically at least, she is lying. I know that this is a she said, she said situation. We’ve been so close for so long, I wouldn’t do anything to cause you unnecessary hurt or drama. You have to know that.”

“She accepted my proposal, Y/N, and she’s been trying to warn me for days. I didn’t listen to her because we’ve been friends for so long, but you coming at her with an outright lie just proves she’s right. I can’t believe you would do this.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you. I... I am going to go home, and I think you should stay away from us Y/N.” He stepped beside April, slinging his arm around her waist and staring you down in that cold, navy, disapproving way. It physically hurt your heart and you could feel yourself gasping for breath. 

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You don’t really remember driving to your apartment, but you do remember Ethan not leaving April’s side until you were in your car and driving away. Your body shuddered and convulsed as you tried to muffle your own cries. Ethan had spent weeks searching for the perfect ring, smiled dreamily at the thought of having children with her. It ripped you to pieces that April threw it all away and that Ethan didn���t believe you. After all the years you’d been friends, all the time spent together, and he didn’t trust you. He didn’t hear the wavering and panic in April’s voice, the floundering in her normally collected sentences, and the visible queues that showed she was grasping at straws. 

Three heavy knocks later and Hailey was picking your door lock. You really need to give her a key.  “Y/N how are you? I heard what happened.”

“Seriously? Everyone knows already? I knew that everyone would hear about some variation of what happened, but it hasn’t even been an hour!... Does everyone know?”

“Yes. I heard about it from Mouch when he dropped some lunch off for Platt.”

“Oh my god... Do you believe me?” You must have looked so pathetic, like Bambi asking for his mother. “Yes. I know how much his friendship means to you. And I know that you aren’t in love with him.”

“I’ll take the deep dish pizza now if you don’t mind.”

“Kim’s bringing it. And red velvet cake.”

“You guys are the best.”

“We know, now where did you put the tequila you got from Mexico?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molly’s had become your favourite pub since you first got the job of ‘thank the heavens that Ruzek doesn’t have to do tech stuff anymore’ in intelligence. The drinks were good, the food was good, and the staff was always friendly. Since your confrontation with Ethan and April, you’d avoided going. Any time you’d seen Sylvie and Emily at spin class they shot you awkward glances and actually asked you what you thought about the weather. While they’d stumbled through an explanation that they weren’t taking sides you just wished a hole would open up underneath you. You stuck close to Kim after that. Med as a whole was a mess of hatred and anger towards you. Apparently Doris had even gathered some nurses together to refuse to treat you if you ever came in. And they were always making snappy comments to the rest of the intelligence unit whenever they had to be there, and Jay got into a fight with Ethan. You’d apologized profusely to your team but they would hear none of it, they believed you.

It had been three months and you were feeling so lonely and depressed. You’d lost over half of your friends in one day, you were isolated and exhausted. You worked long hours and had no one to decompress with, Trudy was still setting you up on terrible blind dates, and while you’d been eating there by yourself since Ethan and April started dating, being alone and feeling alone were two different things. Now you were in a rut. Just floating through existence. And you didn’t hate it. You didn’t feel anything actually, and while it didn’t scare you, it did scare your remaining friends.

You would see a therapist, but because American medical coverage is so screwed up your insurance only approves doctors from MED unless it’s an emergency and MED isn’t the closest hospital. So despite the fact that all your co-workers were on edge worrying about your mental health and how it affects the rest of your well-being, they couldn’t pressure or push you into getting help because there were some doctors and nurses who had outright said they wouldn’t help you. No matter how scared they got or how tempting jumping off a building sounded to you. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone was banging at your door. At three in the morning. If this had happened four months ago you’d be grabbing your bat. Now, you were too tired to give a fuck. The knocking was staggered, in rhythm and noise level. So whoever was on the other side of that door was probably drunk out of their mind. You went a little out of your mind when you saw the man standing in front of you. The man you’d gone out of your way two avoid since his and Maggie’s party. Crockett Marcel. Red eyes, puffy cheeks, slurring nonsense and all.

“I-- M, *hic* sww. I srry. Sorry. Kigg.”

“Why don’t you come in?” You helped an incredibly inebriated Crockett Marcel to your couch. “I sy- swww-”

“Go to sleep doc, you need it.” You moved a garbage can next to the couch and put a blanket over him. One of your best ones, soft and fluffy. One tall glass of water and a couple of Tylenol were placed on the side table near his head before you went back to bed. This’ll be fun to talk about in the morning. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning arrived with the smell of drunken sweat in your living room. Your late-night visitor was on the precipice of waking up, rolling around and fidgeting, trying to get comfy. Though you suspected the hangover was hindering that. You sighed, deciding that you’d wake him up after you finished the pancakes. Sizzling butter and batter wafted into your nose as you carefully placed chocolate chips in the image of a smiley face, hoping that would at least stave off the awkwardness. Crockett kept swearing in French and moved to cover his eyes with a pillow. You laughed as you flipped the last pancakes onto one main plate. Walking over to your guest you pondered how to wake him up. Screaming in his ear? No, too cruel. Pulling away the pillow? Still too mean. Telling him you’ll eat all the pancakes if he doesn’t get up? Perfect. “Marcel, if you’re not up soon, I’m gonna eat all the pancakes I made. And you can’t get mad at me for it.” You sauntered away with a smile on your face, silently hoping that he wouldn’t wake up so you could have all those pancakes to yourself. Soft and buttery, slathered with Canadian maple syrup.

Unfortunately, that was all it took for him to get up. Groaning and moving sluggishly, he made his way to your kitchen island and sat on the other side of the corner. “Thank you. I’m sorry about last night, I just... I feel really bad.”

“About what in particular?”

“Kissing a woman who was already in a relationship, not saying anything about it to the rest of the hospital, causing you a lot of trouble, and... Falling in love with the woman who’s life I ruined.” You froze mid-chew. His troubled eyes were boring into you. “Me?” While your question was muffled by the combination of pancake, syrup, and butter it got across. “Yeah,” he chuckled and smiled softly at you before tensing, “don’t worry, I know you don’t love me. How could you after what I did? Plus you’re in love with Choi-”

“No I’m not. That’s just something April said to cover up what happened.”

“Do you really not see it or are you just denying it?”

“I’m not denying anything, Ethan is- was. Was one of my best friends. And I miss him.”

“Miss him how?”

“He has such a calming energy, like the eye in the storm. Yes, you know it’s gonna get crazy again, but you appreciate the peace it brings you. Even if it’s only for a few moments. He was always so serious, which I like cause I’m serious too. The only jokes he knows how to make are puns, everyone else hates them but I love them. Ethan... He makes me smile, my life hasn’t been the same since he left it. It’s... duller without him. My heart physically aches most times.”

The realization was sudden and terrifying.

“Oh my gods...”

“There it is.”

“I am in love with Ethan.”

“Finally.”

“I am a horrible person.”

“Wait, what? How do you figure that out?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The week following your revelation was hard. You felt terrible, despite Crockett’s assurances, you worried that you insisted on telling Ethan the truth because of your feelings. While your head knew that wasn’t true, that you were happy to see Ethan happy, your heart worried. You didn’t know what to think of yourself if you had subconsciously ruined your best friend’s relationship.

Intelligence had also caught a hard case. Cases involving kids rarely ended well and since this one involved a child trafficking ring and identifying all of the perpetrators and victims, your days had been filled with the screams and cries of abused, exploited and tortured children. You felt like your soul needed to be deep cleansed. You’d found all the children and identified two hundred and thirty-three children so far, another eighty-seven to go. Everyone, including Voight, had been much gentler around you. Normally he hated going down to your office because you’d decorated it with colour, things that make you happy, and just generally didn’t look like the office of the tech expert of Chicago’s most elite law enforcement team, but he’d been coming down to check on you and drag you upstairs for food and water. It had been a nice reminder that you weren’t completely alone, and that not all of the world was built with evil and fear. 

“Y/L/N, we got ‘em. And SVU ID’d the rest of the kids. Families have been called. You should go home, get some sleep. And the meticulous notes you keep qualify as a report, so you’re done. Don’t argue. And eat a vegetable.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” A smirk briefly played on his lips. You laughed, grateful for the position he had in your life, and walked up to the bullpen with him. When you reached the top of the stairs you were greeted by chaos. And not the usual chaos. Jay looked like he wanted to punch a hole in a wall, Hailey was being held back by Adam and Kevin as she cursed and tried to claw at whatever was in front of her, Rojas and Kim were debating the pros and cons of using a police baton, Trudy was pinching her nose and looking like she was restraining herself from shooting everyone, and the SVU agents looked confused and a little afraid honestly. “What’s going on here?” Everyone parted like the red sea for their boss to reveal Ethan Choi. “You have got a lot of nerve to show up here.”

“I’m just here to talk to Y/N. To... Apologize.” You could tell by his sunken features, red eyes, and bloody knuckles that he knew. He knew that you told the truth. Pain danced around like a musical behind his eyes. No matter how empty he had left your life you never wanted him to feel the way he clearly did. However, you weren’t in any mood to deal with this. “Guys, let go of him, you’re scaring our guests. Ethan, can we talk tomorrow? It’s been a long day and I’m really tired.” You didn’t even wait for a response, just walked out from behind Voight and right past everyone, only stopping to say goodnight to Trudy on your way out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning you woke up... Warm. It was the first time you’d felt something other than emptiness since the whole debacle began. Your apartment smelled good, like fried butter. You quirked your eyebrow, hearing sizzling coming from the direction of your kitchen. You doubted a criminal would break in just to cook breakfast and only three people had a key to your place. Hailey, Ethan, and Voight, given to them in that order. Hailey only really knew how to cook greek food, Voight never used it unless it was an emergency, and despite all that had gone between you two, Ethan never gave his copy back. Leaving your aluminum hello kitty baseball bat by your bed you make your way to the kitchen. Ethan stood in a Navy t-shirt and jeans in front of your stove. Three pans in front of him, one with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. “Morning Ethan.” His head slowly turned to meet yours. “Good morning Y/N... Uh, it is tomorrow...”

“It is. What’s for breakfast?”

A slight smile picked up, some weight lifting off his shoulders. “My specialty. You up for it?”

“Always. Uh, Crockett told me. I’m sorry, I want you to know that I did believe you, I just-”

“‘Didn’t want to.”

“Yeah. I’m also sorry about the treatment you received from everyone, really. I told April not to involve anyone else, but she started screaming it from the rooftops the second she could. I know that there were people who didn’t want to take sides but they ended up doing so anyway. I’m sorry about that too. I’ve heard a lot, I know how isolated you became, so I know that it will be hard to forgive me. If there’s anything you want, anything I can do, please tell me. I’m sorry.”

“Did you make enough breakfast for both of us?”

“Of course.” Smiles were met with smiles as Ethan placed all of the hot food on serving plates.

“So now that you know, what’s happening with you and...”

“I broke up with April. I’ve known for a couple of weeks actually, I just... I tried to work it out with her, tried to move past it, but I couldn’t. It was too much, I was too betrayed. Not only did she cheat on me with a man who had just moved to this region of the country, she lied about it, and did everything she could to frame and torture you for what she did. I just woke up one day and I knew I was done. We’d been trying to have a baby but when I stopped focusing solely on having a baby I realized that I didn’t want that with her. She clearly doesn’t love me if she was able to do what she did, and not only would a baby not be able to fix our relationship, but it would be cruel to drag a child into that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Ethan, I just thought that you deserved to know, and I’m so sorry about the pain that this situation has dolled on you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two months had passed and you were re-adjusting to having all of your friends back. From most you’d received an apology and a drink at Molly’s (that had not been a fun hangover), from Sylvie and Nat you had been given homemade cookies in lieu of alcohol, but for the most part laughter and a hug was more than enough. There were few though who didn’t apologize to you and glared at you with hate-filled eyes. You had expected April to be doing that, but most of the nurses were sticking to their guns with her. It didn’t matter that Crockett had come forward, or that she’d admitted it had happened and that she’d lied about you, or that you weren’t the only person who saw that kiss as it turned out, they held you responsible for April’s reputation taking a hit and Chexton’s break up. You had a hard time caring, though. April made a mistake and no matter how much she lied or tried to hide it, it still came out. It wasn’t your fault that she cheated on Ethan, or that she had actively made everything worse.

Ethan and you had been making up for lost time, going to the zoo and aquarium, binging Grand Tour on Amazon Prime, and eating at your favourite Italian restaurant. It felt good to get back into your rhythm, having an unofficial schedule to organize your time together. Today Ethan was waiting for you to pick him up from work so that you both could go see the new baby otter at the aquarium. You had pulled up in front of Gaffney and texted him saying that you were outside and waiting. Just after you’d clicked send there was a knock on the window beside you. You jumped, whipping your head around to see April staring at you with her arms crossed and her chest heaving. Steeling yourself, you exited your car. “Hi April.”

“Really? That’s all you can say? You ruined my life and all you can say is hi?”

“April, I’m sorry for how hard everything must be for you right now, but I didn’t ruin anything. That was all you.”

“If you had just left it alone everything would be fine!”

“April-”

“NO! If you hadn’t insisted on telling him I wouldn’t have worked so hard to make everyone hate you, everything would have been fine. But you just had to go and destroy everything!” April started to cry, tears flowing down her cheeks as she hiccuped and wrapped her arms around herself. You couldn’t bring yourself to be angry, your lives were always filled with drama and pain, and sometimes you felt like you lived in a procedural soap drama, so you couldn’t blame her for holding onto her happiness for dear life. You sighed and reached for her, “come here.”

The two of you stood like that for several minutes until Ethan approached you both with his eyebrows raised. “April.”

“Ethan! You have to know that I never wanted to hurt you, never wanted you to find out!”

“... That’s terrible, April. Look, I’m done. We’re done. Please, just let go.”

“No, I can’t! I love you!”

“No, you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have kissed someone else, or lied about it, or tried to silence and then blame Y/N. What we had, it wasn’t love. We loved each other once, but not in a long time.”

“Ethan-”

“Y/N and I have plans, April.” April shoved you off of her and rocketed away from you violently, sprinting to the ED as fast as she can.

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You were on a date. Sort of. It had been a year and a few months, close to two years, since Ethan and April split and everyone knew the truth. Hailey, Kim, and Vanessa were constantly on you about dating, setting you up onblind dates, signing you up for dating apps, and introducing you to random guys they happen to meet who are single and cute. Ethan quietly asked why you didn’t just date someone to get them to stop. Crockett (who, much to Ethan’s dismay, you’d become good friends with) laughed and offered his services as your boyfriend with a wink. He meant it as a joke. It was a joke. But now, as you were standing by his side in a gown with his arm around your waist, you wondered if he actually was joking, or if he was flirting and you just didn’t pick up on it. When the fancy schmancy business guys left Crockett turned to you with a weary smile. “Thanks, again for coming with me. Goodwin would’ve had my head if I came alone.”

“Well, hey, like you said, this’ll get the girls off my back.”

“I have to admit, I did have an ulterior motive for asking you- don’t panic, I’m not going to profess my love for you or anything. I’ve moved on from you actually. The ulterior motive was to make Choi jealous.”

“What?”

“Look, you love him, and he loves you. I can see it, and so can everyone else. However, it has become apparent that neither of you plan to do anything about it. It has also become apparent that Ethan does not like it when I... do anything that involves you being near me honestly. Least of all that we’re actually friends. He gets jealous, very easily. I was hoping that you being my date for the evening would make him do something about it. Plus, you’re gorgeous and intelligent, the perfect companion for another dull gala.”

“Crockett, he doesn’t-”

“He does. Even April sees it.”

“Crockett-”

“Ah! Dr. Marcel, there you are. I have been looking for you, I want to discuss the hybrid OR project you’re working on with Dr. Rhodes.”

“Of course. This is my date for the evening, Y/N Y/L/N, she is a senior investigative digital analyst with the Chicago Police department.”

“A pleasure.” 

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All in all, you’d had fun at the gala. The booze was free, so was the delicious food, and while you didn’t like dressing to the nines all the time, it was fun to do for one night. The gala had been held at one of the fancier, older, expensive hotels on the waterfront so you and Crockett snapped some amazing pictures. Ethan didn’t do a lot on social media, it just wasn’t his thing, but he texted you seconds from when the first photo was posted to tell you that you looked stunning. You were a bit disappointed, hoping that Crockett had been telling the truth when he said that Ethan loves you. You sighed and shook your head before exiting your office to grab a snack from the breakroom. You didn’t have a case so it had just been a paperwork day, Hailey held up her mug for you to grab as you walked past her desk to the breakroom. You grabbed a bag of chips for yourself and had just finished Hailey’s coffee when your phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey girl, look I’d love to chat but this is a business call.”

“Oh?”

“Ethan and Crockett got into a screaming match outside of the ED, Ethan got so angry and went to storm off but he turned around and ran into a concrete pillar.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s fine, got a few scrapes, but he seems really out of it, we don’t think he should be driving. You’re his emergency contact, can you come get him?”

“Yeah, I’ll just let Voight know, I’ll be there soon.”

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Maggie met your eyes and pointed to a room that had the curtains closed. You darted in, finding an annoyed looking Ethan lying on the bed with his arms crossed. There were a couple of light scrapes but no other visible injuries. You’d gotten him back to your apartment easily enough but he was completely silent. “Hey-”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Do you love Crockett?”

“No! He’s a great friend but he’s not my type.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Where is all this coming from? And why did you get into an argument with Crockett?”

“I, I have been going out of my mind since I found out that you were going with Crockett to that fundraising gala. I can’t lose you! And especially not to him.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Ethan. Goodwin told him he had to bring a date and he knew that the girls were breathing down my neck. It wasn’t a big deal, okay? Ethan why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you. So much.” You didn’t respond with words, just latched your lips onto his. The rest of the night was filled with nudity, moans, groans, ecstacy, and whispers of love and promise.

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Two months later you were being dragged into the ED by a worried Ethan. Before started dating him you’d been friends with him long enough to know that just going along with whatever he needs to feel better is the best option.

“Nat, something’s wrong with Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s been throwing up at all times of day for the past week, can’t hold down food, and she fainted this morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you in a room. Maggie?”

“Treatment four.”

Once you were in bed and had blood drawn you took Ethan’s hand. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“Worrying about you is my job as your boyfriend.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have news. Good news.”

You and Ethan looked at each other as you clasped your hands together and sat up straighter. “You’re pregnant. Eight weeks along by the looks of it. Congrats guys, you’re going to be parents.”

Ethan sprung up and started kissing you all over your face. You had never been this happy in your life. Suddenly he stopped. “Are you okay with this? Being pregnant? I don’t want you to feel pressured-” You grabbed his collar and pulled his face to yours. Kissing him deeply, and lovingly. “Ethan, I am so happy. I have always wanted to be a mother, and now I have the chance. With the man I love. This is the best day of my life.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“Yes, but I’d be overjoyed to hear it again. And again, for the rest of our lives.

[carry-the-sky]

there is the road,

and there is the story of where the road goes—

(or: jesse finds his way. tw for brief descriptions of ptsd-related nightmares.)

.

+ one day after.

Haines is—different. You sure as hell aren’t in the ABQ anymore. There’s like, no people here, for one thing, and that makes you nervous. You’re a strange face, a newcomer. People will notice, right? They’ll notice, and then—

But you make it to the grocery store just fine. You push your cart around, pay for your food the same as everyone else, and no one looks twice at you. Then you’re driving back through town, past a post office and a bank and at least three different seafood restaurants, which, hell yes. The classiest seafood place you’ve been to is Red Lobster, and only then because their biscuits tasted fucking phenomenal when you were high. Skinny had once convinced Badger to bribe the waitress for the recipe, which went about as terribly as you thought it would. Later, Skinny looked it up and found out you could just buy the mix at the store.

God, you miss them.

It hurts more to try not to think about them, so you let yourself. All the way out of town, you think about Badger hitchhiking up from the Mexico border, Skinny taking heat from the police, covering for you. You think about the last words you said to each of them, and how you wish you would’ve said more.

The turn comes up faster than you’re expecting. Asphalt gives way to mud and snow pack, and you shift the Toyota into four-wheel drive. The street doesn’t even have a real name—Road S.7, reads the battered sign at the turn-off—and you can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude towards Ed. Quiet, he’d promised, and he definitely delivered.

Your house is the only one on this street. It’s an a-frame, like the ones your parents always talked about building. They wanted a place up north, somewhere like Wyoming or Montana where they could take you and Jake skiing, or whatever it is normal families do. Maybe that’s what they would’ve done with the extra cash from selling your Aunt Ginny’s house.

You put the Toyota in park, open the back hatch, and grab a bag of groceries in each hand. The snow here is still fresh, and it crunches under your boot when you take a tentative step.

Start over. Start fresh. Put things right.

No. Sorry, kid. That’s the one thing you can never do.

Maybe, maybe not. You take another step forward anyways.

.

+ one week after.

The a-frame is nice. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but the place is fully-furnished, down to the shower curtain in the bathroom, and the living room windows face south, so it’s warm and light most of the day. It’s the last type of place you ever saw yourself living, but it’s yours. It’s safe.

This morning’s routine is the same as the last few have been—coffee, breakfast, get a fire going in the wood-burning stove. There’s a deer outside the window, and you watch her for a moment while you sip the rest of your coffee. She lifts her head to look at you, the length of her statue-still—and then she’s turning away to resume foraging. You aren’t a threat.

You have more money than you know what to do with, but you still give the job classifieds a once-over. The thought of hanging around the a-frame day after day makes your palms itch—you want to stay busy, stay doing, so you circle a few part-time stints, places you’re reasonably sure won’t laugh you and your lack of a resume out the door.

No flashbacks today, when you finally make it to the shower.

This life you’re carving out is a work in progress, but that’s okay. You’re building it from scratch, sanding it down and filing away the jagged edges. It’s gonna take some time, and you’re okay with that. You’re okay.

.

There’s a dog curled up on the porch when you open your front door. Definitely a mutt, some kind of lab mix maybe. No collar. You ease the door shut as quietly as you can, but it stirs at the noise and lifts its head.

“Hey, bud,” you say, squatting and reaching a hand out.

The dog takes a tentative sniff in your direction, so you shift closer. It’s the wrong move. The dog scrabbles to its feet and tears off into the trees before you can blink.

“Yo!” you shout, but it’s gone.

You make a mental note to grab some kibble when you’re in town.

.

The first three jobs on your list are a bust. One of them has been filled already, another wants at least a year of previous experience, and the lady at the last place takes one look at your ink, plasters a fake smile on her face, and tells you she’ll be in touch.

“Bitch,” you growl under your breath as soon as you’re back in your car. Your fingers itch for a cigarette, and you dig around in your pocket before remembering that you don’t have any, that you’d purposefully avoided buying any at the store. Fresh start, and all that.

You tip your head back to rest against the seat. For the first time since getting here, it starts to sink in just how alone you are. It has to be this way, you know that. It’s like your life’s been split cleanly in half—everything before Alaska, and everything after. You can’t go back, and you can’t fit the pieces together again. You get it.

Doesn’t mean it’s not gonna suck, sometimes.

You pick up some dog food on your way home—a bag with words like “natural”  and “grain-free,” because why the hell not—and you’re almost out of town when a sign by the road catches your eye.

Morley’s Custom Woodworking, 2 miles south on 3rd Ave

When you get to 3rd, you turn automatically, like you know exactly where you’re going. It’s your foot pumping the gas, your hands on the steering wheel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being pulled towards something.

Fuck off, universe, you think, but you keep driving.

Morley’s sits where the road dead-ends. You duck inside, and the first thing that hits you is the smell, all pine-y and sweet. There’s a table and a couple chairs sitting by the entrance, and you run a hand over the closest one. Smooth as glass.

“How can I help you?”

You turn. There’s a guy walking towards you who looks like a lumberjack poster boy—big and tall, full-grown beard, arms like tree stumps. He’s older, maybe Mike’s age.

“Uh,” you say stupidly. “Yeah, hey, man, I was just—I was in the, y’know, the area, and I just wanted to see if you maybe needed help with, I don’t know, stocking inventory or cleaning up, or whatever—”

The guy’s looking at you like he’s trying not to laugh, and honestly you can’t blame him. You sound like a rambling moron.

“You know what, I’m just gonna—” you gesture towards the front door.

“You new in town?” the guy says, looking thoroughly amused.

Shit. It’s that obvious.

“Yeah, been here about a week.”

The guy appraises you. His eyes are soft and kind, which kinda flies in the face of the whole lumberjack thing, but, hey, no judgment here.  

“Got any woodworking experience?” he asks.

Sure, if making half a dozen boxes for a vo-tech class in high school counts.

“Not exactly,” you say. “But—I’m a fast learner, and I’m good with my hands. In a totally non-pervy way,” you quickly clarify, “which you probably didn’t need to know, but it’s always good to, y’know—” you trail off and heave a sigh. “Okay, how badly am I screwing this up?”

The guy quirks a smile. “Depends on if you’re gonna keep talking or not.”

You’re laughing before you can think better of it, and the guy’s chuckling too, and then he’s saying, “I’ve got a workshop this Saturday. Why don’t you come by? We’ll see what you got.”

You’re not sure if it’s the universe making the decision or if it’s you, but you don’t really care. Either way, it’s another step forward, and you’re gonna take it.

.

+ one month after.

You still have nightmares. Sometimes you’re in the cage, and sometimes you’re on top of it, and they’re pressing you down, pressing your face against the bars.

“Open your eyes, Jesse,” someone—Todd?—is saying. “Open your eyes and look.”

Sometimes, you fight back. You strangle Todd with your handcuffs, the metal digging into his neck. You beat the shit out of Jack, or one of his other inbred thugs (you never bothered to learn their names). You shoot yourself in the head.

Sometimes, it’s Walt holding you down instead of Todd.

You’re not sure when, if ever, the dreams will stop, but maybe that’s not the point. Maybe the point is that they’re all gone and you’re still here. Whatever that means, you’re still here. You’re still fighting.

It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.

.

It’s taken you a couple weeks, but the dog is starting to warm up to you.

You’ve started calling it Skinny, and yeah, you tell yourself it’s because the poor thing really is skin and bones, and no other reason. It still sits a comfortable distance away from you whenever you’re outside, but it’s stopped bolting every  time you make a movement that’s faster than not moving at all. You don’t know shit about dogs, but you know enough not to try approaching it again. Just let it be, let it see that you’re here and you mean no harm.

You keep a handful of dog food with you when you’re outside, just in case.

You’re stacking cords of firewood in the shed out back when the dog comes up to you, right up to you, tail wagging tentatively.

“Hey, there,” you say, but as soon as you stick a hand out, the dog growls.

“Okay.” You fish around in your back pocket. “You don’t know me, I get it. I totally get it. But maybe this—” you proffer the hand with the kibble— “will change your mind.”

You’re careful not to make eye contact as it sniffs your hand. Then it’s crunching the food up, tongue licking your palm enthusiastically as it searches for more where that came from.

“Right on, my kind of guy. Or, uh—” you duck your head and quickly scan the dog’s underside— “girl, I guess. Sorry about that.”

It’s another few weeks before Skinny will let you pet her, and one more after that before you can coax her into your car to take her to the vet. She’s not micro-chipped, and no one’s reported a missing dog, so they give her a routine series of shots and tell you it’s okay to take her home.

You’re not sure if this is a good idea—can you really even take care of yourself?—but it feels right. She’s like you, lost and alone. Maybe this is what both of you need.

.

You rent out a space at Morley’s after hours to work on the projects he gives you. Small things, at first, like cabinet drawers and birdhouses. During the week, you take orders and receive shipments and assist him with the larger custom pieces he’s working on. It’s hard work, but it’s good. You like working with your hands, making things instead of breaking them apart.

You think a lot about that box you made. You wish you would’ve actually given it to your mom. She would’ve been proud of it, of you.

You wish—

.

+ one year after.

“...and I’m gonna gently, gently tap, following the angles in the mountain. Always follow your angles.”

“Follow the angles,” you echo, bringing your brush up to the canvas. “Hell yeah, I can follow the angles.”

You must be pressing down too hard, because the colors are starting to smear together. If you’re being honest, most of this painting is a mess, but the mountains actually look halfway decent. You’re starting to get the hang of those.

“...and then just beat the devil out of it.”

“That’s my favorite part,” you tell Skinny, who’s watching you with mild curiosity.  

Netflix freezes for a moment, the percentage ticking upwards slowly as the episode renders, but you’re not concerned. That happens pretty frequently. You take advantage of the pause to clean your brush beat-the-devil style, which startles Skinny. Her claws clack against the wood floor as she scrambles away from you.

The rest of the painting is relatively painless—you mix the phthalo green with your purple instead of phthalo blue, but hey, happy accident. You’re getting used to accepting those.

Skinny re-emerges, eyeing you warily. You laugh and stoop to ruffle her ears.

“Sorry I scared you,” you say. “But, hey, it’s part of the process, yeah? Can’t jerk around with the process. Especially not Bob’s.”

Skinny just licks your hand in response.

.

You finish your first major piece at work, a two-leaf, red oak dining table. You’re almost a little sad when the couple who ordered it come to pick it up, but it would just sit in the shop otherwise. And you’d never live it down if you admitted it to Morley, who likened selling the first piece of furniture he ever built to sending a kid off to college.

“It’s beautiful,” the couple tells you. “Even better than we imagined. Thank you.”

You do your best to ignore all the knowing looks Morley shoots in your direction for the rest of the day.

.

You write to Badger and Skinny (the human) on a semi-regular basis. The letters are pretty general—you try to avoid any details that might give away where you are—but you tell them about the wood shop, and Skinny (the dog). Once, you accidentally write your return address on the envelope. You briefly consider sending it anyways. They’d come, they’d absolutely come if they knew where you were, and you’d be selfish enough to let them.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss them, but it’s gotten better. You picture them playing GTA on Badger’s Playstation, or smoking a bowl, and it hurts a little less. They’re safe and they’re happy, and your loneliness is a small price to pay for that.

You’re, like, my hero and shit.

They have no idea it’s actually the other way around.

.

You watch the Northern Lights from your porch, a mug of hot tea in your hands and Skinny’s head resting on your knee. You think, this must be what heaven is like.

.

“So, where should we go?”

Skinny looks at you like she’d like nothing better than to murder you, but you figure that probably has more to do with the car than you. She’s quivering in the backseat, and you haven’t even turned the key in the ignition yet.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that. You love car rides.”

Skinny whines and paws at the door.

“Okay, maybe love’s a strong word, but you love the mountains right? And the only way to get to the mountains is to ride in the car, so. We cool?”

Soon you’re on the highway. The back windows are rolled down, and Skinny’s sticking her head gleefully out the passenger side, all thoughts of murder gone from her head. You think you both might be happiest when you’re driving like this, wind in your hair and your ears, nothing but open road stretched ahead.

You don’t know where you’re going, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll find your way.

[verai-marcel]

More Than Words (Chapter 1 of 2, RDR2 Fanfic, Prisoner AU, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: After a terrible nightmare, you find yourself texting Charles, who comes over immediately despite the late hour. The comfort and safety you find in his arms is nice, but you want something more. How much do you need to beg for him to give you what you really want?

Author’s Notes: WARM FUZZIES, I WANTS THEM. That is all. Also a soul-consuming fuck from Charles. Yes. PLEASE. I used to think of Charles as a good friend, a brother-type character. Then I played the epilogue in RDR2, and I fell in love.

Tags: Charles x Reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, gentle domination, D/s, Master/pet, aftercare, TW: past noncon

Find it on AO3 here.

Chapter 1: Build Me Up

You couldn’t breathe. You knew this feeling. You hated it. This invasion of your body, this brainwashing of your mind, being told that the only one who’d ever love you was him.

You awoke with a cold sweat, sitting straight up in your bed, swallowing the cry that was welling up from deep in your heart. After a moment, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been a while since you had dreamed of your ex. For five years, he had convinced you that he was the only one for you, that no one else would have you, that you were lucky to have him.

When you finally wised up to his asshattery, he tried to force you back into submission on one terrible night that you told no one about. To be fair, you had heard worse stories; your experience wasn’t that bad. After all, when you had finally begged him to stop, he did. But you knew that if you told your best friend, she’d find him and put him in the hospital; she was usually level headed, but when it came to her loved ones, she didn’t hesitate to protect them, whatever it took.

So you didn’t tell her. You just didn’t want to think about it. You let it go and put all that shit behind you. There were better things to do, other things to worry about, greater things to pursue.

But that didn’t mean that your subconscious had let it go like the rest of you had, and on occasion, you dreamed of the past. It had only happened a few times in the last two years since you left him, and it had been almost five months since your last dream.

Usually you just got up, paced around your apartment for a bit, read something light and funny, drank some water, and went back to sleep. Or if you were feeling particularly down, you’d drink some of the plum wine you had stashed away until you passed out.

But tonight you pulled out your phone and stared at it for a minute.

And then you hit the Messages app.

I had a bad dream

You hit send.

A heartbeat later, you immediately wished you hadn’t hit send. Who the hell were you, texting Charles in the middle of the night? You had gone on zero dates with this guy. The last time you saw him, he was leaving your apartment after you had made a fool of yourself, after he had given you a mind blowing orgasm and taking nothing for himself. He had kissed your forehead, told you to keep hydrated, and left you his phone number, in case you ever needed anything. Anything at all, even just someone to listen to you, he had said.

Your phone buzzed.

I’ll be over right away.

You stared at the message, unbelieving. You quickly texted back.

you don’t have to

it’s fine

sorry for waking you

After a moment, he messaged back.

I want to.

***

You heard a soft knocking and you rushed to the door. The moment you opened it, he charged in, sweeping you up in his arms. The shock of his sudden hug hit your heart hard, and you lost the ability to stand as you dropped to your knees, emotions that you thought you had long since buried bubbling up within you. Clinging to him, you cried, burying your face into his shoulder and letting out everything that you had bottled up for years.

***

Sitting in Charles’ lap on your bed, you sniffled and drank the hot chamomile tea that he had made for you as he held you, rubbing your back. You looked up at him, and his kind eyes almost made you cry again. You hadn’t told him anything yet; he just knew that you needed comfort, and gave it to you without asking why.

“I… I had an ex,” you started.

And you told him everything, words tumbling from you like an avalanche, unable to stop until it was all out of your system. Even the things you hadn’t told your best friend.

Charles was angry on your behalf, but he was very good at controlling himself, although you could see the simmering in his eyes as you spoke. By the end of your explanation, he had calmed, the only emotion on his face was a tenderness, warm and inviting like a campfire. You had only looked up every once in a while to gauge his reaction, to see him silently listening to you, no judgement, only empathy. Now that you were done speaking, you looked at him, only to find him watching you carefully.

He cupped your face, his thumb massaging your cheek. “Thank you for sharing. It must have been tough.”

You nodded.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Sort of. I mean, I am. But it’s weird, I hardly know you, and yet I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone.”

Charles laughed softly. “I’ve been told that I’m a good listener. I’ll keep your secrets safe, I promise.”

Leaning into his embrace once more, you slowly fell asleep to the slow rocking of him holding you in his arms, and the steady beat of his heart.

***

You woke up to a familiar warmth, and found Charles, under the covers with you this time, spooning you. You turned in his arms, and he tightened his hold on you, mumbling in his sleep.

“Chaaaaarles,” you cooed.

“G’morning, kitten,” he mumbled.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you made noises like a kitten when I was pleasuring you,” he answered, shifting back to sleep.

Your cheeks grew hot, thinking of that night. And then you felt a bit horny when you felt his morning wood against your thigh. Nudging him with your leg, you inched closer to him. He instantly woke up and scooted back. You stopped, feeling a little hurt by his rejection. It must have shown on your face, for he reached out to you and caressed your cheek with his knuckles.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said softly. “You know I want you too. I just think we need to get to know each other a little better first.”

You blinked. God, you were pouncing on him as if he were just a hook-up. He deserved better from you, didn’t he? A little more space and time to get used to you? Your friend had joked that you went through men like she went through chocolate. But she had a point; these past two years, you had flirted and dated and fucked, but never seriously.

Charles made you want to be serious again.

“Okay, okay,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. “Let’s go on a date.”

“Sure. When?”

“After I get up and get ready?”

Charles just gaped at you for a moment, but then he shook his head and laughed. “Alright wildcat, I’ll go with you.”

***

The two of you ended up at your favorite cafe. After scrolling through Yelp and frustrated by how few places were open early on Sunday morning, you just said ‘fuck this shit’ and went with a classic. Charles smoothly bought your flat white and almond croissant while you were fishing for your card, and guided you to a table with his hand on the small of your back. He even got up to get your drink for you when they called your name.

Plus a hundred points. He was suave, much more than you expected.

And somehow, an hour passed like a minute, just chatting about your life, his life before coming to this town, general interests, and animals.

Then your alarm went off on your phone.

“Shit. I have to go to the animal hospital,” you said as you picked up your purse. Charles stood with you.

“Need any help?”

You looked at him for a moment, wondering if you were allowed to take him with you. You decided against it; if he wasn’t an official vet tech, he wasn’t allowed to help because of all the liability issues. But his heart was in the right place.

“I can handle it,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

Charles nodded and waved as you left.

***

hi

i’m off work now

wanna get some food?

You couldn’t stop yourself from messaging him again as you got out of the animal hospital. It had been an emergency surgery for a poor cat who had been hit by a car. She lost a leg, but the rest of her was in relatively good condition, and would survive. But it had been a long five hours, and you were exhausted. Lately you had been called in for these kinds of surgeries because you were good at keeping steady and making quick, calculated decisions. But once you were out of those situations, you let loose and were boisterous. Perhaps that’s how you balanced out; you didn’t know how your friend stayed so calm all the time, except for when you were teasing her.

Your phone buzzed.

I’ll come over and cook you something after I pick up some groceries. You must be tired. Take a nap. I'll see you at 5pm.

You smiled. He was too kind.

sure

thank u

Putting your phone away and getting into your car, you drove home with a big goofy grin on your face.

***

You had taken a nap when you got home, so exhausted that you just collapsed on your bed and passed out. When you got up, you had been opening windows to let in the cool evening air when your doorbell rang. Taking a deep breath, you went to let in Charles, who was carrying some grocery bags.

“That’s a lot,” you commented. “Cooking for an army?”

“I noticed you didn’t have much in your fridge,” he said. “Other than a couple of takeout containers.”

You sighed. It had been a rough few weeks at the hospital, that was true. One of your coworkers had warned you of compassion fatigue, and you had waved it off, but now you felt it. You had no energy for yourself, always taking care of others. Your friend had been the only one who had regularly checked in with you and made sure you took time for yourself here and there, but she couldn’t watch you all the time. Besides, you didn’t think you needed anyone to coddle you.

And now Charles, within just a week, had noticed how poorly you ate when you were alone.

He cooked a wonderfully healthy meal for you; baked chicken with spices, herbed potatoes, and a chickpea and spring green salad with a poppyseed dressing and candied walnuts. Your mouth watered as the smells filled your kitchen. He listened to you chatter away about your day at work when you should’ve had the day off, and he told you about his work at the construction site. You learned that he worked with Arthur, and that he had forgone his volunteer work at the animal shelter today to take care of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling bad for making him change his schedule.

He immediately went to you and hugged you tight. “Don’t ever feel bad for needing me. Ever.”

Your heart raced to hear him say something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

As he finished cooking dinner, you finally got up and helped him get plates and silverware, feeling bad that he was doing most of the work. The two of you ate on the floor, your plates on the coffee table. Your place was small, just a studio apartment with a bed, a small coffee table in front of a TV, a kitchen, and strangely enough, a decent sized bathroom. Sure, you could probably afford more now that you were a full veterinarian, but you wanted to save money and pay down your student debt. Besides, you didn’t spend much time at home anyway. For all the hours you were called in, you easily worked 60 hour weeks on average lately.

The two of you finished your meal and cleaned up everything together. It was magical, almost like he was your boyfriend already. Not only that, now you had a fridge filled with Tupperware containers of meals for a few days, so you didn't have to eat out for a while.

This was definitely not how you’d imagine things going. By now, with any other man you would have slept with him and sent him on his way.

Charles was different. Your best friend was right, these country boys were something else.

Now that dinner was done and everything was clean and put away, you weren’t sure what to do. You turned to him to ask what he wanted to do, but he was prowling towards you, his hands gripping the kitchen counter behind you as you realized you were trapped between his big arms. He crooned your name, so sweet sounding on his lips, and you were instantly turned on, feeling desire gliding through your body. He leaned over you, forcing you to crane your neck up to him. You parted your lips.

You knew what you wanted to do now.

“Please,” you begged. “Take me.”

--------------------------------

Chapter 2 Here.

[ananxioussheep]

My Miscarriage Journey

Today: Tuesday, October 1st 

On October 1st, 2019 our journey of parenthood was put on an indefinite pause. What started as a routine check-up for the day became our worst nightmare. The second you find out you're pregnant is the most exciting and terrifying moment. You immediately change everything you are doing to ensure your baby is healthy. For me, unfortunately, our baby was not going to be. When I met my midwives that morning I went in for a Doppler check. My midwife was going to look around to find our baby's heartbeat. We couldn't find it the week before. She told me before she had even started last week not to worry if that happened since the baby could be behind my pubic bone or could still just be too small. When we didn't hear it we scheduled a recheck for next week once the baby grew a little more and I kept my bladder full for the check so that my uterus would hopefully be in a better position to finally meet our baby. Three midwives tried with no success. They told me a number of things could be happening, maybe I'm not as far along as we all thought, maybe my uterus wasn't shaped the way it was supposed and baby is just in a different spot, or maybe I was experiencing what is called a missed miscarriage. I left their center and headed to get an ultrasound. Jacob was at work for the day because we thought I was going to be having an easy check-up and I would be leaving with a video for him so he could meet our baby. When I got to the radiology center and saw what was happening I immediately knew this wasn't good. I spent a long year as a vet tech and have seen lots of ultrasounds. I had lots of pregnant friends and knew what I should see. I have a biology degree and have studied a lot of reproduction. When the tech turned the screen my way I saw my uterus. And I saw where my baby should be and wasn't. She decided she wanted to do a transvaginal ultrasound to be sure. If you know what this is then you know this is the last thing you want to be doing as your fighting back tears waiting for the inevitable. We found that although I was past 12 weeks, my baby stopped developing around week 7. My body still thought (and still thinks as I write this) that I was pregnant. I now have to walk around for who knows how many days still being pregnant and waiting to labor this child. Jake and I spent the day sobbing. Wondering what we could have done differently. I spent my time talking with God. Asking him if he had changed his mind about thinking if I was going to be a good mother. We told our family and friends and bosses that we would be missing for a while. That we were not going to be meeting our sweet baby in April. That our dream was ending for now. And that we wanted some time and space to process. Right now it's 6 am. I've fallen asleep for 2 hours. My mind can not shut off. I can't stop thinking about how this fight isn't over and I still have to “have” this baby. I can't stop thinking about the fact that we already announced because things were good. I was really sick for weeks so that must mean we have a healthy baby. My body still thinks I'm pregnant. I spent 4 hours last night having reflux and puking. But I still have not had a bit of spotting. We haven't taken a step toward “having” this baby. Part of me wonders if I just keep going along like I'm pregnant maybe God will perform a miracle. But most of me doesn't want to hold onto any hope because that would hurt more. It's crazy how quickly the best season of your life turns into the worst. 

72 Hours Later: Friday, October 4th 

Take day 3. It's been over 72 hours since we found out we lost this baby. I haven't made any progress in “having” this baby. I am angry. And I'm drinking and I'm almost entirely dependent upon my anxiety medication. My husband who never cries is crying a lot and I don't know how to help. I'm ready to have this child, bury this child, and begin to move on. This is the most challenging, devastating, and world-altering. I have so many doubts? Will I ever be able to be a mother? I want to try now, as soon as possible, but Jake's pain is too much to get there now. Will I ever heal from this? Am I capable of going on? 

6 Days Later: Monday, October 7th

Yesterday I called my midwife sobbing. I just can't wait for my body to do this anymore. I can't keep walking around like everything is fine with my lifeless angel inside me. Help. I'll get the pill on Tuesday. I'm reading the same scriptures over and over and over. Jake finished a 1000 piece puzzle in 8 hours and didn't sleep last night. I hid in the office at work all day because I can't afford to not be there. Worship music non-stop. Jesus as much as possible. And literal devastation. How can you miss something that's still inside you? We decided to name our baby even though we don't know what it is. Our baby deserves a name. Emerson, it means brave and powerful (I just keep referring to her as Emmie because I had so many dreams about it being a girl). Exactly what our angel is. And exactly what we will have to be these next few months. I'm planning a tattoo of rosemary their purple blooms which signify love and remembrance and I've decided our baby is a honeybee. All my dreams and plans during this pregnancy have been around bees. When I looked up their meaning I found that they extract sweetness from life, and represent abundance, brightness, and personal power. Because of our sweet little baby bee our family will learn all of these things this season. And now, we wait to finally do this tomorrow; have this baby. 

Tuesday, October 8th, 11:55 PM

Preparing for a long night ahead as I FINALLY started bleeding. As absolutely devastating as this moment is I'm so relieved to finally let this baby move through my body naturally and I'm it's timing. I was scheduled to pay another $300 tomorrow for another ultrasound for confirmation to get the medication. I am praying to God and have been asking him to let this be the way this happens. So now. At midnight Jacob and I are running to Walmart for freaking incontinence pads for old people. All because we decided we wanted to love each other a little tonight and I guess that's all baby needed. To know Jake and I still love each other. (He will literally hate me for that but guess what most happy marriages have sex lives, it's totally biblical y'all). Part of me feels terrible for celebrating right now and I know it won't feel like this as the pain and bleeding continue but right now, I'm proud of Jake and me for getting through this and so proud of our baby for trying as hard as it could in this short little life. 

Wednesday, October 9th, 10:00 AM

Well, I barely bled at all so to the Dr. we go to get this process rolling for real. Last night I held my tummy and told my baby how proud I am of him or her. It fought so hard for this life. And it's fighting so hard to get to the other side of this life. I'm so ready for us all to be at rest and be ready to heal. Jacob and I are realizing how perfect God's timing is. Although we were pretty annoyed when we didn't get to go on our Labor Day cruise I can now see that God perfectly planned this time away for us. I'm believing it's going to be so healing. And it also helps give me perspective that God knows exactly what he's doing with this little babe. They were just too precious to be earthside. I find a lot of comfort knowing we have a personal angel caring for us from above. 

Wednesday 5:30 PM 

Here we go. Pain. Cramps. Aches. I'm tired already and it hasn't even begun. 

Thursday, October 10th, 1:00 AM

3 pills in. I'm finally losing my mind. I just woke up Jake with my crying because I officially feel like I have lost at the game of life. I currently feel insufficient as a wife, a friend, an employee, and especially as a mom. I'm looking back on this year and honestly, it has been the most miserable and lonely year of my life. And this moment has been by far the hardest. There is no pain that can compare to watching pieces and clumps of cells that should have been your child fall out of you. And having to force your body to do it with pill after pill because after 7 weeks it still won't understand that it's not going to have this baby. I don't recognize myself or my life anymore. For the past 8 weeks we've known about this baby I finally felt purposed again. I was working toward a goal. A life that I saw so much fulfillment in. And all of a sudden it's just gone. Nothing can prepare you for these moments. I'm so deeply pressed for anyone who has ever and will ever do this and I'm trying to imagine how I will dig myself out of this. Here's what I know, one, I will not apologize for doing the things that are best for me and two, I will speak up about this experience as much as possible because this baby deserves a memory and this experience deserves to be de-stigmatized. My head is throbbing, my back is throbbing, the pain is so deep in my abdomen that I am nauseous yet nothing else is happening. I'm just exhausted. Physically, Spiritually, Emotionally. I'm fried. 

Thursday: 8:30 AM 

I was wondering why everyone kept saying you would know when it happened because I really didn't think I would know, but then it happened. Feeling dizzy, nauseous, and a little more empty. I love you little babe. 

Friday, October 11th

Today we took what remained of our little and planted a tree. It’s the first thing I see every day when I walk in the door. 

Sunday, October 13th - Sunday, October 20th

Time for “vacation” In the photos we took and posted are beautiful mountain ranges, conquered fears, crystal clear oceans, and lots of smiles. On the other side of those photos was a lot of time spent mourning and grieving. While I'm so thankful to have the opportunity to have moments like these it does not change how hard these past few days/weeks have been. I'm so proud of the steps Jacob and I took to enjoy this vacation as much as we could. I'm happy to say we have learned so much and are a stronger couple now than we were just weeks ago. But I would be lying if I uploaded all those smiles and didn't share the tears that were behind them each and every day. At the dinner table. On the beach. At the top of a mountain. There's no convenient time to suffer loss. While others might forget, Jacob and I will not. While others might feel it's time to move on, I'm not ready to. While others think we are supposed to smile, we have to cry. Don't mistake this for a pity party, but understand that miscarriage is excruciating on your mind, body, and soul. It's time we start being more honest with ourselves and others with the state of our hearts. I wanted to shed some light on our week. I wish I could say our vacation was all I hoped for and that I experienced so much healing during this time as I wished I was going to, but I didn't. I hope this encourages someone else today to know that it's ok to not be ok for a while and to be a little more honest with themselves and others about the state of their heart. I'm confident God has a plan for this as he works all together for good. 

Monday, October 21st 

I went back to work today and spent the night before sleeping a total of 2 hours and having panic attacks all night long. I spent my lunch break having one of the worst panic attacks I ever had, my breathing was so stifled I almost called 911 I was sure I was going to pass out. I walked away into the back office and cried for over an hour because someone asked me if I had kids… I’m feeling like it’s impossible to live in this world now. This whole process and loss hurts more now than it did when I found out or as I was living the miscarriage itself.  I am literally dragging myself out of bed day to day as a necessity and 3 times my normal dose of meds still aren't doing the job. So I guess the whole gist of this whole story is… It’s ok to not be ok... 

...I struggled with where to end this post because truly the end of this post isn’t the end of this process, but I hope this gives you insight into the brokenness of this process for so many women. I’m happy to answer any and all questions surrounding this devastating situation. Education is power, in all circumstances. 

[gayerluke]

so i’ve been meaning to write about this for almost a week now since it happened early tuesday morning, but i’ve been burying myself in hyperfixation hell to distract from the utter shock & devastation of it. but i owe my friends on main to talk about it bc i know you guys care about me & my little family.

tw for animal death

my rat patrick passed away extremely suddenly & unexpectedly in the middle of the night between monday & tuesday. he was euthanized at the ER & went peacefully. i wasn’t with him during the actual moment (protocol with small animals is different because they use a different method) but i gave him a lot of love right before they took him back.

both rats were completely FINE early monday. they were active & behaving normally, like little scamps. i came in late that night to check them before bed. david was his normal self, climbing up the cage bars to come see me. patrick, however, was curled up in a little ball, fur all puffed out, eyes squinted: classic sick rat pose. i picked him up & he was awake & responsive, but didn’t squirm like he normally would. his breathing was extremely labored. to me it seemed like an upper respiratory infection, but it’s unusual for them to come on so suddenly -- usually you’ll see mild symptoms building up over the course of maybe a week before it gets this bad (i would’ve definitely begun treatment well before he had reached the state he was in). URIs can usually be treated with simple antibiotics/anti-inflammatories, which needs to be supplemented with a probiotic bc rats are hindgut fermentors who need the beneficial bacteria to digest. but i knew this was bad enough that he needed to go to the ER bc he needed oxygen.

took both rats with me to help reduce the stress for them. this was about 3am. the person who opened the door for me was someone i know from school, of course, bc there’s literally nowhere in town i can go without someone i know working there. it’s fine though bc she was kind of a calming presence & also they can tell the doctor im a tech so they dont dumb it down for me. they took him back right away & took vitals; breathing was labored like i said but he was also hypothermic with a temp of 96; normal is 100-102.5, same as a dog or cat. they put him in an incubator with heat & oxygen. took x-rays, found fluid in the lungs but also AROUND the lungs, known as pleural effusion.

it was at this point that i knew it was not a simple URI but something really really bad. i associate pleural effusion with heart disease; fluid builds up in the institial spaces when blood isn’t being pumped properly. the dr said the fluid could either be pus from infection, blood from trauma, or free fluid (water basically) from a cardiac abnormality, likely congenital given his age. the only way to know for sure was a thoracentesis (chest tap) for $2,000, which didn’t guarantee anything except diagnosis of the type of fluid, & could also cause further damage. just sending him home on antibiotics wasn’t going to work unless we knew it was an infection & could jeopardize his health even further. she also revealed that she didn’t want to do outpatient bc she really didn’t think he’d survive very long outside of the oxygen cage. i was there for several hours just trying to come to a decision. ultimately i chose to let him go. he was only 3 months old.

i elected to have a necropsy performed on site free of charge (as opposed to sending it out to the big lab for more precise diagnosis). i had to call the vet 4 times to finally get ahold of the attending doctor to get the report; the 4th time i called i sobbed on the phone to the receptionist. waiting was the worst fucking part. finally got to talk to her yesterday. the ER vet’s best guess was a congenital heart defect; however the vet who did the necropsy found that it was in fact a severe infection. i can’t help blaming myself & wondering if he could’ve been saved if i’d just taken him home on the antibiotic meds, or if it could’ve been prevented if i’d taken better care of him.

i’ve been a complete wreck since then, breaking down in sobs a lot. i didn’t sleep for 4 days. but the absolute worst part of all this is david. rats are social animals; they CANNOT live alone. human companionship isn’t enough. now i put him in his carrier & set it out on the couch or bed with a towel down so he can hang out with me for 6-8 hours a day. but he’s too nervous to come out of the carrier (patrick was always the investigative one who’d let david know when it was safe). he mostly sleeps all day. he is not eating much if anything & i’m trying to keep track of any weight loss, though he does seem to eat a bit with the emergency nutrical smeared on his kibble.

so now i’m at a crossroads: i either get another rat, which i’m not totally sure i want to do, or re-home him. the necropsy results help me determine that, because they’re most likely littermates so if patrick had a heart defect david could too.

again, i’ve been in stasis the last 5 days but now i have to make a tangible plan. at this point i’m leaning towards getting a second rat; david & i have bonded so much over this experience that i don’t want to give him away & really, 2 rats aren’t much more work than one. i might go back to the reptile store where they’re from to see if the owner (who i know) will just give me another one with good temperament.

but first david needs a vet appointment to see if he has any evidence of infection setting in, or if he should have prophylactic antibiotics. the cage & room need a deep clean. technically i could get a new rat right now since i’d want to quarantine both of them for 2 weeks, but unfortch i’m flying to fucking portland again next friday. i need to find where to board him.

sorry this is so long but i’ve really been Processing it all. i’ve spent all week in shock. for the first 2 days i couldn’t look at david without breaking down in full-on sobs. patrick was only 3 months. he was doing so well & becoming a big boy. i’m heartbroken. but i’m determined to still give david a good life.

[sparklycitrus]

Inverted Tropes Headcanon #3 - Of R and the Other M

Directly related to #1 and #2 so please read those first if you haven’t already.

R’s real name was redacted when he took part in a witness protection program right out of university. He came to Six after talking to one of his security details on the case, and afterwards got into the relatively quiet part of Q-branch in infrastructure maintenance. He was a diligent coder in his 30s, lived with two fellow Sixers (in legal and HR, both thoroughly vetted), and preferred the afternoon to night shifts at Q-branch. It gave him the peace and quiet he needed to work, plus also nicely offset Bond’s own schedule, so it all worked out very well.

R was one of the handful of Q-branch staff who was neither shocked nor angry with Boothroyd’s decision, even though the title of Quartermaster should’ve traditionally gone to him. He had seen Bond’s work, respected it greatly, and had no desire to be in the limelight. Instead of smuggling in cigars for Boothroyd he now snuck in whiskey for Bond, and in exchange he not only got to keep his corner desk through departmental restructuring but also got first dibs on any new tech coming from the labs. Not becoming quartermaster was like dodging a bullet, really. Hell, he could’ve unwittingly become the object of desire for all the double-ohs right now. The thought alone was enough to make him want to retreat to the deepest part of the server room and never emerge.

He didn’t know how Bond did it. Fending off all the wily assassins with aplomb and professionalism while simultaneously dealing with the rabble that was Q-branch on top of the natural stress that came with the job title. The man got chops, that was for sure, and R wouldn’t mind picking up his people skills via osmosis. Bond had other ideas, however. “Don’t delve into the politics,” he told R. “Your job is to keep us running smoothly while my job is to keep distractions from reaching you.”

“It’s just servers, sir,” R replied. “They practically run themselves.”

“Until someone decided to mess with them. How long has it been since you fended off the last attack?”

R glanced at his watch. Bond had a point. “42 minutes, sir.”

Bond’s answer was a raised eyebrow and a gesture of ‘see?’ with spread hands. R’s gaze fell to the floor, acutely aware of those sharp blue eyes on his face. “Keep up the good work,” Bond said, giving him an encouraging smile. R mumbled back a thanks. His face had now turned a very telling shade of pink, which Bond tactfully ignored as he returned his attention to the stack of blueprints on the table.

Alright, so maybe R also had the tiniest bit of crush on the Quartermaster. No one needed to know this, of course, and he certainly wouldn’t let it interfere with his job. He went straight back to reinforcing Six’s defenses. Someone he couldn’t possibly let down was depending on him, after all.

Gareth Mallory became M right after Olivia Mansfield’s unfortunate stint in Scotland concluded. He knew it was coming, predicted it the minute Mansfield planted her imperturbable self back on English soil. But he did not expect the speed everything took, and was almost blindsided when the promotion letter was deposited on his desk at JIC merely a day later. However, Mallory was anything if perpetually prepared. He cut swiftly through the bureaucracy, moved his office in record time, and took on the name of M as if he was always meant to be.

He expected the slew of structural changes that came with Six’s resettlement. Rebuilding Q-branch was a given, as were transitioning in the new section heads and replacing double-ohs lost in the skirmish. He gave 0010 some extra time off as his contribution was the greatest during the Skyfall incident, and immediately regretted the decision when Q took down two-thirds of Six’s firewalls for ‘fun’ three days into his leave. After that M revoked all of Q’s privileges whenever he had downtime longer than a weekend. It didn’t really help much, but it did slow him down enough for Q-branch to come up with reliable countermeasures. M rolled with it. All double-oh agents had their prickly sides. If certain ones were more unruly than others, why that only meant more red tapes needed to be implemented, and he had more than enough of those at his disposal.

It didn’t occur to him that this was Q’s way of trying to get attention from a certain bespectacled gentleman down in the basement. M had expected the best and brightest of British intelligence to behave like adults, and leave the pigtail-pulling on the grade-school playgrounds where they belonged. His mistake.  

“I was under the impression that hacking the servers was something Q always did, starting with my predecessor,” he said to Moneypenny one hectic morning.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded solemnly. “However, he had never been this…enthusiastic. It used to be more like testing for weaknesses than an all-out focused attack.”

“He does realize that it’s R who’s dealing with the breaches and not Bond himself?”

“Well, the Quartermaster still had to oversee the processes. Some of the time. I think the point is to get his attention however he can. Sir.”

M sighed. They really were goddamn children. “Anything else of note, Ms. Moneypenny? I’d like to be informed of all dalliances before I go make a speech about proper work conduct to our new recruits.”

“No sir. Not today at least.”

“Good,” M said, marginally relieved. He then dismissed his secretary with a wave and turned toward the door. Being the director of anything meant people management, and people tend to make the already complicated situation infinitely worse. It was unavoidable, but that’s alright. M knew what he was getting into when he started the job. There was no point turning back now.

(I thought it would be interesting to actually make R a hacker and Bond’s right-hand man, considering that Bond is not an expert in that field and might need someone else for the job. Which also makes me think that a non-reverse fic could feature R as an engineer-and-weapons guy to counterbalance Q’s expertise in the digital space. Just more thoughts.)

[gobydana]

The Vet

A/N: Here is my newest series! It is a Bruce x reader one.  Part One is a little short but other parts will be longer. I hope you all like. Please leave comments and let me know if you want to be added to this series tag list. I am not sure how long it will turn out to be. Updates should be once a week. Anyways, here you go!

The Vet Part One, Part Two, Part 3

For Bruce it was just a normal Saturday morning. In one hand was a cup of fresh black coffee and another in another reports to go over for Wayne Enterprise. He had promised Lucas that he would try to look over a few this weekend before Monday’s board meeting. He also had some case files to look at down in the batcave later that day.

The tranquility of his morning routine at the big oak desk was disturbed by an usually sound. The sound of a child yelling father was not usually in the manor, but not often was it coming from his 13 year old son while laced with panic. Damian often doesn’t show fear.

The raven hair boy came running up down the stairs in a panic. The first thing Bruce noticed was the blood on Alfred the cat’s side and onto Damian’s shirt. 

“He was chasing a mouse and got caught underneath some old furniture. He cut himself trying to get out on a nail that was sticking out.” Damian rushingly said while applying pressure to the bleeding area.

Duke at that moment came into the hall upon hearing the commotion. Bruce quickly asked him to call the vet, the number was near the fridge. He and Damian raced towards the garage to get going to the vet. They slide into the BMW at the front and took off. The ride was silent minus Bruce asking how was that breathing and pulse point. His Batman instincts kicked in as he drove. If only he had the batmobile, he could go faster.

Luckily the vet was towards the outskirts of Gotham which was closer to the manor. Bruce hadn’t been there as normally Alfred would handle all the animals. Yet he was out grocery shopping this morning. Damian often accompanied Alfred to the vet so he knew what to do once they get there.

Both of them went through the door as the receptionist yelled room two as if it was a normal thing. Duke calling the vet ahead of time paid off, as they were ready for them. Damian laid Alfred down on the steel table while whispering in Arabic to him. Bruce was able to pick out سوف تكون بخير  (you will be okay) and ولد جيد (good boy).

The wait was only a few minutes as the Vet came in the room with a vet tech. Bruce couldn’t but help and admire the vet. They walked with confidence and had a reassuring smile. Their face remained calm and their voice steady as they addressed them. 

“Good morning Damian and Mr. Wayne.” They said while turning towards Bruce. “I am Dr. Y/N.”  As they went to shake his hand. 

“Call me Bruce.” He replied. 

“Works. Now let’s get Alfred here all fixed up.”

Bruce watched as they worked with tenderness. The whole time interacting with Damian to help calm his fears down. No doubt they were used to him during appointments. When Dr. Y/N went to stitch up Alfred, they told Damian to keep giving Alfred pets. 

Bruce wanted to smile at how well the vet interacted with Damian. They treated him like an adult and not a child. It must have been part of the reason Damian enjoyed going to the appointments. They also keep reassuring him Alfred would be fine. Keeping the young boy and Bruce updated with everything they did. 

After all was done, the vet tech and Damian went with the cat towards the back to run test on his blood in order to make sure everything was okay. Normally the vet tech would go alone, but Damian went with as if it was normal. No doubt wanting to see the results himself. This left Bruce with the vet. He felt nervous and out of his element for once in his life. Dr. Y/N turned towards him.

“I think Alfred will be okay. Would you like written instructions on how best to keep the stitched safe and clean?” They asked. “Normally Mr. Pennyworth will ask just to be safe. Also how is Titus and Ace doing?”

“Yes, though you might also want to tell Damian since he will be overseeing the cats care.” Bruce replied. “They are both good.” 

“I have no worries on Damian. He takes good care of his pets. Which reminds me, I have that book he wanted on cow health. Not to sound noisy but you aren’t planning on having a farm in the back of wayne manor are you?” They asked while raising an eyebrow.

Bruce had to keep a laugh from coming out. If only the vet could see the full extent of Damian’s animal. Though he did make a mental note that maybe they do need someone to check on Batcow one of these days. If anything happened to the cow, they wouldn’t be able to just drive to the vet hospital.

“Not that I know of. Though with Damian you can never be sure.” He answered while looking for something to change the subject. “Alfred speaks highly of you.”

“I hope you mean Alfred Pennyworth and not the cat. If he could talk we might have other problems. Though I don’t think the cat likes me since I had to shave around the stitches.”

At that Bruce let out a genuine laugh, the kind usually only his family rarely hears. He was enjoying talking to the vet that he almost missed Damian coming back into the room carrying Alfred. The cat looked better already as he was trying to get the cone off.

“Oh let me write those instructions down for you. Just make sure the stitches don’t get wet and keep the cone on him. The last thing you need is a cat pulling out his stitches. Come back in two weeks and I will do a follow up. You can schedule that at the front desk or just have Alfred call in. Here is that book you asked for. For you Bruce, here is my business card in case anything comes up.” 

“Will do. Thank you Dr. Y/N. ” Damian replied while heading towards the door. 

Bruce waved good-bye and thanked them for their help. He might just be at that follow up appointment. He would need to ask Alfred about their vet. After all, if Damian trusted them with his pets, Y/N was one special individual.

He left the room to see Damian talking to the receptionist about when the next appointment was.  

Tagging: @superwhoteen @the-shadow-of-atlantis @fuckbuckyyy

[porchwood]

Hey friends,

I’ve been struggling to come up with a sufficient thank-you for all your help with the GoFundMe, but it seems every time I sit down to try to write a response, some new awful thing arises. And this past week was the worst yet (maybe the worst ever).

When last I spoke to you, I was getting over a bad cold and preparing to ease back into work after my injury. The PT office finally called me back and I went in for one session to make sure I was at a recovery point where it was okay for me to do massage again; the therapist did a quick assessment - no exercises demonstrated or recommended - kinesiotaped the knee and charged $100 that I had to pay then and there. (So a waste, and an expensive one, but I guess it could have been worse?) The next day I started back at work VERY part-time (one 60-90 min client a day) and it absolutely killed me. I was no longer wearing the brace and my knee actually did okay with the work (bending/crouching notwithstanding), but the rest of my body (esp core muscles) were just drop-kicked by the work. I went home exhausted and shaky every day and finally tried substantially increasing my protein intake, which felt a little ridiculous (we’re talking a 24g shake + an 11g bar for breakfast or two entrees at lunchtime), but it’s done a world of good, and that’s all thanks to you guys. (Protein of any kind isn’t cheap and your incredible donations made it possible for me to buy good food to rebuild my muscles.)

The end of my first week back at work, I fell hard on the ice outside my house. Miraculously, my left knee never even hit the ground, but I fell flat on my back and my left wrist - without any lasting injury, thankfully, but I was absolutely worthless for the next 24 hours and had several days (crucial returning-to-massage days) of varying degrees of pain in that wrist. In the meantime, I made a couple of other adjustments (raising my massage table to take the strain off my lower body, getting back on an ibuprofen schedule instead of just taking it after the fact, when I was hurting badly), all of which helped, but I’m still only about 85% back. My knee still hurts every morning when I wake up and gets stiff and sore whenever I have it bent for any length of time. My workplace has been surprisingly good about letting me work a slower schedule as I build back up (ex. 3 clients a day instead of 5), and last Friday I finally got a paycheck for the first time in over a month (!). 

Then, two weeks ago, I was wakened at 3am to Lucky (my little rat terrier) falling off the bed. This has happened before and is usually comical after the fact, but when I picked her up, she emptied her bladder all over me, and when I tried to set her down to check on her, her back legs had gone limp and wouldn’t support her. Terrified (I’ve heard enough end-of-life dog stories to know this isn’t good), I was about to take her to the emergency vet when she sat up like nothing had happened and began licking herself. I took her outside and she walked around a bit, completely sound on her feet, and pottied again - business as usual. Worried and mystified, I messaged my (LPN) mother who thought the urination sounded like a shock reaction to the fall, so I gave Lucky a bath and spent most of the day just cuddling with her.

For about two seconds, life seemed like it might finally be getting a little better. I was able to pick up two massages at a local inn (which pay substantially better than massages at the spa and provide some very helpful extra money). And then on Thursday, I came home to a slightly anxious Lucky (howling quietly on my bed), and when she got up to greet me, her back legs wouldn’t support her. I scooped her up immediately and her entire body went limp (seemingly lifeless), her head and neck lolling over my arm. As I ran through the house with her, her bladder emptied down the front of me and - still lifelessly limp - she gave the most horrifying howl I’ve ever heard. I was convinced she was dying in my arms.

As we tore down the road to the vet’s (thankfully, about a 5-minute drive from home), she sat up on my lap and by the time we’d reached the office, she was acting downright normal again. I was able to get us in with one of the vets about 10 mins later (a tech checked her out right away to triage her and make sure she was stable), and he wanted to get some data on her heart. She’s had a heart murmur for almost her entire life and, while I’ve asked repeatedly what we could do for that, the only advice I was ever given was hawthorn and ginkgo supplements (which she takes on a more or less daily basis), and at one point we tried a canine cardiac formula for a few months with no notable changes.

She had an EKG, chest x-rays, and a blood draw ($516, including the office call) and then that info was sent to a veterinary cardiologist in Portland. All they could tell me in the meantime was that her heart is enlarged and to just have her take it easy for the rest of the day; they would call me first thing the next morning with the cardiologist’s report. Lucky was sleepy but normal for the rest of the day and I passed an awful night of bad dreams (including one about rabid dogs) and waking every hour or so to make sure she was okay.

I was scheduled for my typical split on Friday but had only one client at the end of the day and was an emotional wreck, so I asked if I could just go home to be with Lucks and I found another therapist to cover my client. I still hadn’t heard from the vet by 10am, so I called to check in. He gave me a brief summary over the phone and asked if we could come in for some more tests, which was another hour and a half and $236. (I was able to put these two visits on my CareCredit card but for some reason the vet only gives a 6 month promotional period instead of the 12-18 months that other places do. If you’re not familiar, CareCredit is a great option IF you can pay off everything quickly. If you can’t, you’re clobbered with obscene interest on the entire sum at the end of the promotional period, even if you’ve paid off almost all of the principal.)

I’m still making sense of the cardiologist’s report because it’s quite in-depth and my knowledge of the heart isn’t quite that high, but here’s what I’ve been able to glean:

- “severely enlarged” heart - borderline tachycardia and occasional arrhythmia (her collapse was considered a syncopal episode, if that helps anyone) - some degree of mitral valve issue - at risk of developing congestive heart failure

She was put on two heart meds, pimobendan/Vetmedin (which is supposed to be very effective and is also very expensive) and enalapril (an ACE-inhibitor), and she has a kidney check-up in about a week to make sure she’s doing well on them and adjust the doses if necessary. The vet seemed to think the prognosis was pretty good (considering that at this point we’re talking about staving off heart failure :/) - he said small dogs with mitral valve issues tend to do well on these meds - and other than this insanity with her heart, Lucky seems to be in pretty good shape. Before Thursday she was extremely active and happy; there’s no sign of neurological issues, and her BP, thyroid, kidneys, etc are all looking good. So I’m trying to stay hopeful.

She’s been a little extra sleepy (understandably) the past few days, but this afternoon she seemed unusually “off,” so I’m trying to figure out whether it’s her tiny body adjusting to the meds (which she needs to stay on for the rest of her life) or if her heart is suddenly starting to get tired and this is the new normal. :( I called my mother earlier (a mistake) and got a lot of pessimism-in-the-guise-of-sympathy that left me feeling like Lucky is on hospice and I should start making end-of-life arrangements now. 

I’ve been crying for the better part of the last four days, and I don’t think I can articulate how painful this is for me. I didn’t think it was possible to donate a human heart to a canine but I looked it up just in case, because I would give her mine without hesitation. Lucky is my whole life - my soul running around in a little black-and-white body, and five years ago when my life systematically fell apart, she was the only thing misfortune didn’t touch - and I knew this, and I was waiting. Since then she developed sleeping bladder leaks (which, while frightening, were easily and effectively treated with estrogen), then severe separation anxiety (which I’ve been struggling to treat since 2016, and yes, I blame myself for the anxiety making her heart worse, even though I’ve done absolutely everything to help her overcome it). Lucky is absolutely the reason I didn’t try to end my life at various junctures over the past five years, and I don’t want to think about what will happen to me if she’s not here anymore.

And as ridiculous as this will sound: I was supposed to be married by now. When I got Lucks as a puppy, I knew the inevitable would one day come (unless Jesus comes back before then so Lucky and I can just go to heaven together, which I haven’t given up on), but I knew my life would be much different by then. I would have a home and a husband to help shoulder the financial and emotional burden. I was not supposed to be alone, sterile, and struggling just to make ends meet. I love my roommate dearly, but it’s not the same as having a spouse, nor should it be. She can give me hugs and listen to me cry, but at the end of the day it’s me in that dr’s office, holding my hurting baby and promising to pay for whatever they have to do, and me that has to hold everything together and keep going when the worst happens. 

Incidentally, last Sunday was my birthday. I’ve mentioned before that my birthday has some kind of perverse curse, and if this year didn’t prove it, I don’t know what will.

My father (living in Nebraska, and with whom I’ve had a strained relationship since my hysterectomy) has congestive heart failure, and my mother called me shortly before all of the Lucky stuff to tell me that he’s failing and to try to talk me into moving back to Nebraska to help keep an eye on him. Which is a subject for another time entirely, but over the past few days I’ve been wondering if I should think about going back (temporarily), if only to be around family myself. It would be a complicated situation (I’d still be on the Maine lease and paying for half of everything, Lord knows if I’d be able to keep my Maine job when I came back and I’d end up back at Massage Envy in Nebraska, not to mention I’d be scrambling to pay down my medical bills and Lucky’s), but maybe it’s something I should consider.

Anyway: that’s where I’ve been. :( And I’m sure I look like an ingrate for not saying thank you about the funds sooner, but between the fatigue and the heartbreak, it’s been hard to manage much of anything lately.

[littlebitlizbit]

The Two Year Miracle

Tinker...  Where do I begin? With his spirit, his sass? His grumble meow, or his cooing purr? The crook at the top of his long broken tail, or his blown out oracle eye? There are so many feelings and emotions that his name brings up, and I hope that I have the words to get them out right...

So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning. 

About two and a half years ago my household lost one of our cats to old age. Our other cat, Rufus, was never a huge fan of his late sibling, but he was still used to anothers cat’s company. I wanted to bring him in a new friend, but knew that financially it would be a stretch. I have a rare genetic disorder that gets in the way of full time work, and vet bills, especially for older cats, tend to add up... but still, Ruffie needed a companion.        I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt.      It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs.           I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates.            I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home.        It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much. 

And then the boys were home.

Smigeon pranced around the house like he was the happiest prince. He LOVED water, like would let the tap drip on his head he loved it so much (even tried to jump into the bath with me once.) Rufus was wary of Smigeon, there were a couple hisses, but for the most part didn’t seem to mind him.      Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space.       That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before. 

Sure, I’ve had some great cats, amazing cats, sweet silly cats. One of my favourite cats growing up was exceptional, Taz. He was a rescue, a smushed faced himalayan persian, who would jump from the floor up to my stomach then from stomach to shoulder and perch there. He’d give me kisses and hugs, sat on my lap every meal and whenever I was on a couch. He slept at my feet and used to love to sit on my chest and just stare at me, purring. He was the cat that made me fall in love with grumpy old man cats... but he has long since passed and I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again. 

I was wrong. 

As the days went by, Tinker thrived. Him and Rufus seemed to be bonding exceptionally fast, and he would devour any food that was put in front of him. He loved fresh water, and would drink loudly while padding the floor, and then would put his paw right into his mug. Oh yes, he drank out of a Batman mug, he wouldn’t drink out of a bowl, but the mug was his jam.         Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home. 

           He and Smigeon did not come from a safe/loving home. Tinker had scarring that showed not only a once broken tail, but also ribs. Some of his teeth were broken, and he wasn’t born blind, but one of his eye was completely blown out. Both cats were surrendered after a raid, completely matted and dehydrated. It boils my blood to think that some people can be so cruel...             Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2  to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day.                     During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly. 

         Finally, after getting the final check/ok from the vets, the boys quarantine was over. (Funny side story, during that visit Tiker needed to have bloodwork done... I could hear him yowling down the hall, and when they brought him back in the vet tech was wearing a fully padded suit, and plastic neck and face guard. She basically threw him at me...poor feral guy, but was calm the second he was back in my arms) Tinker was the first out of the room, slowly but surely relishing in his new freedom. Rufus was a little more cautious upon exiting the room, but cautious is kind of his default. 

     Slowly but surely more of Tinker’s personality started to come out, as he blossomed. We’d now had him for about three months, and he was showing no signs of slowing down...in fact quite the opposite. After watching him one morning accurately swat at and chase a fly, I realized how good his hearing was. The pet store near me sold these crinkle balls, that made the slightest noise while being batted around. As soon as I dropped it for him, a new Tinker was unleashed. He chased and batted around that thing with the energy and accuracy of a kitten. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could the vet. On his next check up they were pleased at his weight gain, and the fact that his fur was starting to grow back in (the exact same shade as Rufus, who knew!?). His tumour wasn’t growing, but it also wasn’t shrinking, so he was put on some pain meds to make him a little more comfortable. He became even more active after that. It’s funny, he would sing, literally sing and coo to his crinkle ball wherever he would catch it and carry it around in his mouth all proud like. If he’d lose it under some furniture, we’d have to go on our hands and knees around the house to see what he lost it under, because he would cry if he couldn’t find it. Finally I bought him a pack of 12 online, so that if he lost it, we could just pop him out another. Well that didn’t work out.... turns out this one crinkle ball in particular was his baby, and no matter what, we couldn’t trick him into a different one.

As winter started to melt into spring, and we started to let Tinker out into the front yard. It’s completely fenced in, and I'd sit with him while he explored, sniffing everything he could, with a lust for life.           When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him. 

 Before I knew it, a whole year had gone by with this little miracle. I was falling more and more in love with him as time went on, all the while painfully aware that every moment with him was a gift. He started to get a bit more grumbly, and eventually started developing mouth ulcers, apparently something common in cats with stomach cancer. During a check up the vet said it might be time to let him go, but he was still super active. Still eating and drinking a ton, still purred when getting love, and still played actively with his crinkle ball. We decided to treat the ulcers as best we could, and upped his CBD dose. The vet said that if the ulcers didn’t shrink with this treatment, that it might be time to let him go. I knew his lust for life, but alo didn’t want him to suffer. I remember getting him home, and telling him that I would fight for his life as long as he did. I know that cats can’t understand our language, but I feel like some of them are really excellent at picking up intent. He would always look me square in the eye, with whatever vision he had left, and seemed to be intently listening. He would talk back often too, it was pretty incredible.              That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going. 

I started working from home, and that really pleased Tinker, though he became even more bonded to me than I thought possible. It got to the point where I'd open the bathroom door, and there he’d be, sitting like a patient dog, waiting to crawl back into my lap. He took his meds like a champ, and just like that, we were passing the two year mark of bringing him home.

Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.

 He started to pee on the floor once in awhile, around the litter box, rather than in it. He prefered to do his business outside, but if someone wasn’t around to take him out, he would let his displeasure be known this way. He started coming and asking for his pain meds at the exact time he was supposed to get them, if not a little earlier. He was getting slower and slower, and I knew that the time was near. I started to build up this steel wall of protection around my heart, because everytime I thought of life without him, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and couldn’t stop from crying uncontrollably. We took things a day at a time, and things were mostly normal, other than him getting a little slower. A couple of days after my birthday he was playing with his crinkle ball. The next day he didn’t eat much, but still drank a ton and went outside. The next day he didn’t eat anything, but still drank and went outside, albeit slowly. Three days after playing with his crinkle ball he had trouble standing. I looked him in the eyes and could see that my little miracle, the grumpy old man of my life, the cat love of my life, was done. I called the vet, and found out that our favourite Doctor was just getting home from Japan that night. The receptionist booked him in to be put to sleep the next day and I hoped, selfishly, that our she could make it in.            I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him. 

Afterwards I felt strangely numb, but also calm. I did what I had set out to do, two years previous, and was given so much more than I ever could have hoped for. As I’m typing this I’m crying, and have had to take multiple breaks. Knowing that such a special relationship is over, in these forms, has been harder than I’d care to admit. Being prepared to lose him from the get go hasn’t made grieving any easier. Greif is such a funny thing, that comes for you when you’re least expecting it. I’m bursting into tears much more than I’m comfortable with, but I know things will get easier with time. I’ll never stop missing him, but will always be forever grateful for every single bonus day we had together. 

      Rufus is doing ok now, though he is grieving too. His tail had a droop to it, and was yeowling the nights away... So I did what I did the last time he lost a sibling... He now has a new PF brother, Clue. I may not have much money, or energy, but I saw first hand the difference love and affection can have on a life. Clue is an all black fluffy guy, just like Smigeon was, and has asthma. He’s drooly and sweet, and him and Rufus have already started sleeping on the couch together. There is no way that Tinker could ever be replaced. That’s a hole in my soul that I don’t think will ever fully heal...but knowing that I’m making a difference in another life helps.  There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.

My time with Tinker taught me to really appreciate life, and see things to be thankful for with crystal like clarity. He’s taught me compassion and patience on a new level, and gave me a lifetime's worth of cat love memories. 

Think of all that your next rescue could teach you, and start looking. Nothing would make me happier than if this story can inspire you to open your heart, and home. It can be hard, it can be painful, but I promise you, it’s worth it.  Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue. http://katiesplaceshelter.com/ Thank you.

Love always,

Elizabeth xoxo