#I’m taking him to the vet next week and trying to get him medicated or something bc this is NOT OKAY!!!!

[wewontbesleeping]

STILL at the vet. Alice is waking up though. They had to sedate her bc she was so mad and wouldn’t let them look at her. Anyways!!! She is fine!! Llewyn bit her pretty badly, though. She’s going on antibiotics.

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[bingusmode]

“Friendly” Suggestions

Red Medic x Reader

Warnings: Google translate German, inaccurate German culture, little spellcheck, and hints of sexism (if you squint)

A/N: instead of reader, I am using a class name instead. Vet, short for veterinarian.

Being the only woman on the team was already hard but being Medic’s second hand was even harder. If Vet did one thing, he would do another. If she stitched up one of the boys, he would correct her on her work. God forbid she healed someone on the field, without fail, Medic would throw his “Friendly Suggestions” her.

“I don’t know if I can handle any more of it” Vet took a swig of her morning tea, her other hand rubbing at her temple.

“I’m sure you’ll manage” Spy sat across the table from her, flipping through a magazine. Looking unbothered and uninterested as ever.

“I know I’m not a human doctor, but I know what I’m doing, I don’t need this constant hovering”

Spy didn’t take his eyes off the page he was reading, letting out a neutral “Hm”

Vet rolled her eyes and stood up from the table, going to the boiling tea kettle for a refill.

“Always a joy to talk to you Spy- Fuck!”

Vet dropped her cup in the sink and put down the kettle as fast as she could without spilling boiling water everywhere. Switching on cold water from the faucet to put her now burned hand under the flow.

“That's the second time you’ve burned yourself this week while pouring tea”

“Thank you Spy, I’m aware-”

“You burned youself?”

Vet swore mentally, of course Medic would walk in, he seemed to have a sixth sense when she was doing something wrong.

“Its fine, just a little slip up, nothing serious-”

“Serious or not, you shouldn’t be using cold water. Burn cream is more effective”

“I know but-”

“Here, take this”

Medic took out a small tube of burn cream and set it down on the counter

“Now you’ll be more prepared for another accident, your first aid kits seem often understocked”

Medic smiled at her while grabbing his morning coffee.

“I’m always available if you need any tips,”

Vet could feel her eye twitching. Medic took his mug and whistles as he left the room.

“...My first aid kits are NOT understocked”

“Do they have enough burn cream?”

“I’m gonna punch you Spy”

“Not with that hand you aren’t”

Vet felt her eye twitch in annoyance, leaving the burn cream on the counter. She was not a rookie that Medic needed to guide.

It was hot. Almost unbearably so in the gravel pit. It was nothing new to Vet. She wiped sweat off her neck before wrapping Scout's injured arm up and shooting him up with a small med pack.

“You could do that a little gentler you know-“

“And you could not get shot at every match, but here we are”

Vet stood and extended her arm out to him, helping him off of the ground.

“Go get ‘em champ”

Scout adjusted his hat before bolting off, a quick thanks was shouted over his shoulder.

Vet quickly moved to her next patient. Can’t stay in the same spot for too long in battle. Engineer was up next, he was usually an easy save. She weaved in and out of the empty buildings, making her a harder target to shoot. Her journey was abruptly stopped when a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and jerked her back into the shade of an overhang. Vet had her hand on her gun instantly, trying to find her next target.

“No no! None of that! It’s just me!” She heard Medics' voice before she registered him. She had half of a mind to still pull the trigger.

“Are you out of your mind Medic? I could have sent you to respawn-“

A glove clamped over her mouth as an enemy Demoman ran past their hiding spot, not noticing the two. Once he was gone, Vet wrestled his hand away.

“Would you-“

“The UV index is at a 10 today Frau”

“What.”

Medic smiled at her before pulled out a tube of sunscreen, spreading some on his gloves

“Skin cancer is no joke, even Mercenaries need sun protection”

Without warning, he applied sunscreen to Vets cheeks. Humming as he made sure her face was covered.

Vet had absolutely no words, whatever thoughts she wanted to say failed her.

Medic tapped her cheek once he was done.

“See? Better, it’s good you have someone looking out for you”

He did a once over of his gear before getting back into the action. Eventually Vet felt her rage return in spades.

She wasn’t a child, sure Medic was overbearing, but this was too far.

“That motherfucker-“

Sunscreen be damned, Medic be damned, they had a match to win. And afterword, she would rip him a new one.

Right now, ripping Medic a new one was far from her mind. Vet clutched the enemy’s briefcase to her chest, running as fast as she could. She had one thing on her mind, and that was securing her first win. Her lungs heaved and her knee was absolutely screaming in pain. The enemy Scout caught her with a crowbar, but she kept running. Less like running and more like limping with her busted knee, but she was so close. Just a few more seconds of pain, blood, and heat. With one final sprint, Vet flung herself into Red Base. The brief case falling to the floor with her.

A crisp victory flooded the loudspeakers and soon enough her teammates surrounded her. Heavy was the first to lift her up, cheering as he did.

“Blue team is no match for our Little Doctor!”

“You did alright Miss Vet”

“Mhppppmm!”

Vet soaked in her well deserved accolades, her shattered knee taking a backseat.

Until Medic slowly walked up, his eyes trained in on her injury. He stayed silent while the rest of the team celebrated.

“Frau-“

“I did it! Oh my lanta, I did it,”

“You were foolish”

Voices died down as everyone took in Medics disapproving look.

Vet felt her spark of rage within her chest.

“I’m sorry?”

“Heavy, bring her to my lab. This needs to be treated as soon as possible. Really Frau, you need to take care of yourself”

Medic turned away briefly to clean and adjust his glasses.

Engineer tried hearding the team out of the room, sensing that this conversation was going in the wrong direction.

“How dare you.”

Medic paused, turning to face Vet. She was still in Heavy’s arms, but she had so much to say.

“I won the match and you can’t even congratulate me? Everyone on this team has come back with worse injuries and I’m the one you reprimand?”

Confusion flooded across Medics face, like he wasn’t expecting this response.

“You are not like everyone else-“

“Enough!”

Vets voice rang loud and clear.

“I am a person! You cannot talk down to me and treat me like a child. I have a degree, I pull my weight, and I’ve done plenty to prove myself. You have been singling me out since I got here!”

Heavy could see the sweat forming on Medics brow, and it wasn’t from the heat.

“Frau, I meant no harm-“

“Everyday you correct me or tell me something you think I’m doing wrong, that ends tonight. I’m done, I’ll heal myself”

Vet spat at him, feeling her hands start to shake from all the emotion and excitement.

“Heavy, take me to my room, please”

“Little Doctor-“

“Heavy, please”

Heavy glanced over at Medic before shuffling out of the room. The rest of the team quickly dispersed after that. Not wanting to be caught up in whatever drama was happening.

All that left was Medic, staring at the brief case on the floor and shame washing over him.

“I do not understand”

Medic moved his chess piece, waiting for Heavy’s next turn.

“What am I doing wrong? Have I not been clear enough?”

Heavy studied the board before making his move.

“You have been very clear my friend, but you two are not of the same world”

Medic groaned and took off his glasses, trying to rub away his oncoming headache.

“Care to elaborate?”

Heavy paused, his chess piece a few inches away from being placed on the board.

“You Germans…how do I say this…express your feelings differently”

“I express myself perfectly fine!”

Heavy held up his hand, Medic huffed before shutting his mouth.

“To her, it sounds like you are doubting her abilities, questioning her judgment. Making Vet feel like less woman and more like child”

Medic tossed up his hands.

“How else will she know I can take care of her? I give her burn salve when she gets burned, I make sure her skin is protected from the harsh sun, I showed I care more about her than a…than a dummer Aktenkoffer!”

“This may be true, but to a non German, you are undercutting her success.”

Medic leaned forward

“Am I really doing that?”

Heavy nodded, taking Medics chess piece.

“Listen to Little Doctor. She is capable of taking care of herself”

“I know she is capable, much more than that…I just want her know I can take care of her too”

Heavy patted his friend on the shoulder.

“Do not give up hope Doctor, plenty of time for you to fix mess”

“I hope so…”

Just from around the corner, Vet listened. She had only meant to grab more bandages, not eavesdrop.

This whole time, Medic was trying to flirt with her?

She felt the tips of her ears warm, some of her anger starting to ebb away.

Well, if that’s how he flirted, maybe two could play at that game.

“Scheiße!” Medic jerked his hand away from the stove.

“Scout! You cannot leave this on!”

“Wasn’t me jackass!”

Medic rolled his eyes before searching for his salve, remembering that he gave it to Vet weeks before.

“Idiot boy…”

Heavy mumbled, turning a page in his book.

Vet peaked around the doorframe, fidgeting with the burn salve Medic gave her.

“Medic?”

His attention was immediately on her, Heavy watched from behind his book.

Vet approached and held out the salve. Letting Medic take it.

“Thank you Frau,” Medic watched himself carefully, doing his best not to say anything that could make him look worse.

Vet hesitated before giving him another tube of burn salve, a different brand.

“This is my preferred brand, I think it’ll take care of you better”

Medic and Heavy both paused, wondering if they heard that right.

“Oh, well, thank you”

“You’re more than welcome to see me if you need anymore”

Vet smiled at him before going on her way.

As soon as she left the room, Medic met Heavy’s gaze.

“She - she flirted with me! The German way!”

“I don’t think you have enough salve Doctor, the burn is big”

Medic nearly tripped out of the room following Vet, calling out to her to wait for him.

Heavy let out a small sigh, going back to his book. If Medic burning his hand was enough for Vet to notice him, then Heavy would have left the stove on a long time ago.

[thecaroliner]

After almost six months I think I’m finally ready to talk about what happened to my dog to get it off my chest and maybe this will help others prevent this happening to their dogs.

About 2-3 ago we began noticing a few changes in Chibi that we just associated with age. He was 10-11 at that point so obviously he was slowing down a little bit but we also noticed how itchy he had become. It seemed like all day every day he was gnawing and scratching at himself, sometimes to the point of drawing blood. His vet basically shrugged and said “idk try this prescription shampoo” we tried it. There was a small improvement but really didn’t do enough for him. As time went on he became more and more miserable so he was finally prescribed a pill and a monthly shot to help with the itching. Again, it did ease his symptoms somewhat but not like it should have. His vet seemingly just didn’t care enough to try anything.

So last year he began losing hair, like a LOT of hair. Especially on his tale. His underside was slimy too, and he smelled awful despite having a bath pretty much every other day. It was getting to be a little gross to even pick him up. He was freezing all the time because of how little hair he had.

So finally, in around January, I took him to the vet one day because his eyes were leaking really badly. The vet seeing him that day was like a traveling vet and it was her first time at that clinic. She was much more concerned about his itching and lack of hair rather than his eyes, and when I told her his history she said “well it sounds like the regular vet has just been trying to put a band aid on his symptoms and not get to the root of the issue.” I am eternally grateful for this woman because she was determined to find the cause of it and it lead to a diagnosis of hypothyroidism. All his symptoms, his lethargy and itchiness and hair loss, his overproduction of sebum was all related to that. Pretty much within a few days of him receiving thyroid medication, he was like a new dog.

He suddenly had energy again. He would play and run around. His hair began growing back and he stopped itching and smelling bad. My baby, who we were afraid was just slowly dying from age, was like a puppy again. I am so so so grateful that he got to spend the last few months of his life full of energy again.

And then came April. One night, after a completely normal day with him, and he threw up around 11 pm. No big deal, he throws up from time to time. But then he did it again, and again, and again rapid fire. He was shaking and walking around like he was scared. Three years prior, he had shown these same symptoms and the emergency vet concluded he had eaten something toxic (to this day we have no idea what it could’ve been) and in kidney failure but was able to get him on some fluids and meds and he was good as new.

Mom and I were afraid this was happening again, so at midnight we loaded him into the car and took him to the ER vet. $800 and some fluids later and they said “well, he could possibly have pancreatitis but just monitor him and follow up with his regular vet.”

We take him to the vet a few days later. “Oh, I see he was diagnosed with pancreatitis.” We were shocked because the ER vet said it was maybe a possibility and not a definite. But okay, he has pancreatitis. So now he has to be on an extremely bland died of boiled chicken and rice and some prescription dog food.

He did fine for the next week or so, but then one day just stopped eating. He didn’t even want his favorite snacks like peanut butter. He just sat around the house, but he was sitting up as though laying down would be too difficult for him. He kept begging to go outside and try to potty but he couldn’t. Even days later when nothing was in his stomach at all he was trying to go.

I take him to the vet one morning and tell them the symptoms. “Well, just get him to eat a bland diet and it’ll ease his symptoms” he. Is not. Eating. I went home frustrated. That afternoon he seemed to be in tremendous pain so I took him back, and this time they weighed him. He’d lost 4 pounds in just a matter of days. Not one person at that vet office seemed even mildly concerned about this.

This bitch of a vet tech pulls me into a room and goes “okay, so tell me exactly what is going on because you and your mom keep giving us conflicting answers about if he’s eating or not, so what’s the deal” HE. ISN’T. EATING. My mom and I were both telling them that. I don’t know what the confusion is. He got more fluids and we left once more with no answers.

And then 4 days later he was gone. On his last night he began sounding really congested when he breathed and the next morning the vet said his pancreas was just failing I guess and the mucus he was producing was from his lungs and there was nothing they could do. And that was the end.

I found out shortly after that undiagnosed hypothyroidism can lead to pancreatic issues and failure in dogs.

My baby suffered for 2 years because his vet didn’t bother trying to really fix his problem. And then he finally, FINALLY gets to feeling normal again only to go from a little sick to dead in just 2 weeks.

It really just felt like the vets office was in the mindset of “oh he’s old so we aren’t gonna bother doing much for him”. Life expectancies for his breed can go up to 15-17 years so he probably still had quite a life left ahead of him.

I miss him so much.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

CYOA

Chapter 7. Vet

Previous - Masterlist

Content: Medical care, implied needle and medical drugs, broken bones, hospital and vet setting, poor vision, panic attack, emeto mention implied, dubious handling, dehumanization, pet trope,  Giant/tiny, female cast, cages, being watched, money stress, selective mutism, 

Pov: Ashley, then switches to Hamster for the poll. 

Poll Winner: Rush Hamster to the emergency vet

—

You can’t handle seeing her like this. She’s burning in your hands, and you’re already reaching for your pink jacket. It doesn’t matter if you have to work full time at both your jobs for the next year, she has to go to the vet. 

You can do your makeup in the car. 

You hold her against you, and feel her squirming to try to get more comfortable in your hand. “Shh shh it’s ok, its ok, shh,” you keep shushing her as you swaddle her in a blanket on your lap to keep her safe while driving. 

The vet isn’t busy yet thankfully, and you’re able to get her in before half the day is gone. “We’re going get you allll fixed up Sweet-Pea.” You reassure Hamster in a whisper to the blankets she’s hiding under, and hold it close to you. It’s covering your pyjama bottoms so people can’t notice your lack of tight jeans so easily… 

The doctor working on the floor today is Dr. Reese, and you recognize him from your job. When you unravel the small heap of blanket to reveal Hamster, she visibly cowers under the bright lights, and pulls her hair over herself. This makes Reese chuckle, and he takes over once she’s set onto the examination table. 

Hamster starts crying with that tea kettle whisle to her voice when Reese touches her, but turns her head towards you when she hears your voice. She reaches her tiny chubby hand out for you as if asking to be saved, and your heart breaks all over again. “I’m right here baby girl, don’t worry I won’t leave. This nice man is going to help you.” You want to put your finger down for her, but you have to keep your distance. 

Hamster starts actually screaming once Reese begins prodding at her injury, and it makes you feel sick. You have to leave the room after all, and run to the bathroom to get a hold of yourself, gripping the sink to keep back tears. If you ended up with makeup running down your face, you would be too humiliated to come out, and to your horror, that’s exactly what happens… 

It takes some time to calm down and fix your face, and finally you brave going back into the room to check on your girl. Your eyes are puffy but you hide it well with fresh eyeliner. 

When you see her she’s half awake with a piece of gause taped to her good arm, and a cast being put on the other. She’s just staring off into space with her eyelids drooping, and barely responds to you when you speak. 

Your blood runs cold, and you leave again.

A nurse calls you back in shortly after, and Reese talks to you about the break, what medication to give her, how long the cast should stay on. 

He mentions something off hand, and you’re somewhat caught off guard, “Have you considered having her vision checked? It appeared to me that she was having a difficult time visually focusing on anything past her nose…” 

Thats the sentence that stands out, and your guilt skyrockets at the thought of neglecting her needs. Next thing you know you’re agreeing to an eye exam for the following week, and signing papers that you hardly skim over. 

They hand Hamster back to you in a paper box with holes in it, and inside she’s nested in soft tissues that surround her, with a cast protecting her arm. She’s fully asleep, and not moving. You snap a picture for your blog, and add your GoFundMe link to the description of your post. 

Once she’s back home safely in her cage you leave for work. 

—

—

Credit to @alittlewhump for proof reading <3333 big hearts for you <3

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @dramat1ques @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @whither-wander-whump @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @copperyote @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @sunshiline-writes @whump-in-the-closet

[clovercoin]

CloverCoin Artpack 2024 March + Updates

[PATREON POST + ART PACK] Hey everyone... I see March is rounding the corner to being over and I realized I never actually make an official patreon post yet. A lot has been happening on our end / IRL. We recently found our we might need to move this summer... But thanks to a lot of back and forth between us and the new landlord we got a lease extension for 1 year to prepare our savings and safely move out to another place in town or around this town we are currently living in. After a lot of discussion between my husband and I, we're really struggling to find rental single family homes that fit our disability needs AND budget. Rent bubble in our area is about 70% more than our current rent which... is mind blowing. But we are determined! With further discussion we think we agree, we'd like to buy a house to make sure our needs are met and that we can take care of our senior dogs without having our lives uprooted without notice. So our belts are going to be really tight over the next year while we try to scrimp and save every penny to go towards our goal to purchase a house next year. That is scary but also so exciting! Wish us luck, we're going to need every lick of it to pull this off. ~~~ Other worse news... The reason why I've been struggling these past few weeks. My family has been reaching out to me and it's official. My mother has a terminal cancer diagnosis. I do not live near her, so I would like to budget a trip out to see her at some point this summer. We don't have any real time lines yet until we see how to reacts to chemo treatment. She's just started that this month. So that's been a weird tangle of emotions and talking with my siblings about what we expect out of all this. How we each can help in what ways we can. One of my older sisters is taking control of talking with the doctors and updating us since my mother is extremely avoidant about talking about her illnesses. At this time I won't be taking any time off from working and doing adopts/commissions. We need the money more than ever, even just to go fly or drive up to see her. But I will update on patreon/discord when I'm taking a week or so off to visit her. ~~~ More middling news? Our two senior dogs, Ollie and Junior, have been having little health scares this year. Feels like 2024 just started and so much has happened! Ollie has been diagnosed with a heart murmur and is on medication now to help treat it. Diet and life style changes as well to help him stay fit. Junior may have had a small seizure or stroke, for 2 days he was not able to stand or walk which really scared us. Both have been to the vet multiple times this year and are being watched VERY closely. I just hope nothing happens to them before we find them a new house to live in. (knocks on wood) ~~~ I myself am having some medical issues but... Just with everything going on I just haven't had time to assign myself with a new clinic and new gp. My new health insurance won't let me see the old one anymore and it's EXTREMELY disruptive to my whole life. So there's a chance my body might get a flat tire in the future, but I'll try to manage it accordingly. To end it all on a good note, I did finally finish my very last tooth filling / replacement and after a year and a half of constant dentist visits, my mouth is all fixed! Hooray!!!! Now we just have to tackle my jaw and TMJ problems haha. ~~~ I think... that's the big items of what's going on. Why I've been really absent online and for updates. Life just kinda had a weird downpour on us, but we're sorting it out. We signed a new lease. Prov is working very hard at his new job. The future is really scary for me right now and I'm really struggling. Please be patient with me while we go through these big life changes at this time. I'll be opening up new commission slots soon to start a monthly income to help with house savings. If anyone has pending commissions with me or trades, please never hesitate to DM me/poke me for updates. I've been a lot more disorganized more than usual lately and I am happy to give any updates or refunds as needed should anything come up that I can't handle. Sorry bout the long read everyone, but thank you so much for skimming through and keeping up with what's going on in my life. I've been desperately missing art more and more every day I spend away from it, so I look forward to sharing even more art with you all! Thank yo everyone for all your support! AJD . ART

[clementiens]

i had to say goodbye to grunkle stan on friday, i already had a vet that does house calls, so he was in my lap already and he stayed in my lap the whole time. it’s been a really hard weekend and it feels like it’s going to be a really hard week too now that my partner is back at work.

he had an emergency appointment in early november, and i’d been waiting + worrying about something like that happening again, but it didn’t. eventually i started to suspect a kidney thing because of two other symptoms, but otherwise he was completely himself, but in december, the vet said it was actually his thyroid, so we medicated that and had a followup just over a month later this past tuesday the 7th. he kept losing weight and losing energy in the last couple weeks, we gave him an arthritis shot on tuesday, but on thursday night when he was in my lap it felt like it was just time. we had a good last day together friday where he spent most of it on my lap until and while the vet came.

i was originally going to have him cremated but i VERY strongly changed my mind a few hours after i gave him to the vet. i texted, didn’t expect a response until at least the next day, didn’t expect to get him back, but they texted back and i got him back the next morning! i was told (and had already figured) that he’d been in the freezer, and i got him back in a little zippered carrier bag that honestly reminded me of the carrier bag that i’d always used for him because he hated being put in a crate. my beautiful amazing supportive partner took me to lowe’s on saturday to buy a cooler, and supplies to build an extra tall raised garden bed, so he could decompose naturally. i found guidelines from the state that included how to do this without the medication from friday affecting the water table etc and did a little googling and got a drill and stuff and i finished building it on sunday. my partner and i buried him together and i’ve been able to sit outside with him a few times in the yard which has been really nice. 

my personal feelings about how i want my body handled when i die have changed a lot over the years and it’s turned into something that i feel pretty strongly about. it ended up lining up a lot with jewish burial traditions even before i started trying to reconnect and then i ended up feeling even more strongly about it. 

while i was getting my crow and embryo tattoos, the friend who was doing them told me about a crow that their friend had found and given to them to preserve. they did it, it was technically done fine, but it felt awful, so they buried the crow instead, and the feeling was gone. the way they described it was that the crow’s spirit was still in its body and it didn’t want to be there. i felt that way about grunkle stan, i didn’t want him away from me, and i didn’t want him cremated. obviously the first night was going to be the hardest but having him away from me felt so fucking unbelievably awful and painful after having been together almost 24/7 for eight years, on my lap all the time, following me room to room, around the room, into the shower with me, through all of my health stuff and medical transition and complications. having him back home, even though i had to run right back out to lowe’s for the cooler and everything, was such a huge relief. my partner compared it to sitting shiva while he was in the cooler in the kitchen while i finished building the bed. they’ve been taking really good care of me.

eventually i’ll take him out of the bed and clean him and put him in a pot with a succulent on top (or smth like that with small roots), and that way i’ll always be able to keep him with me, which i wouldn’t have been able to do if i had just buried him since we’re renting and realistically aren’t going to stay here forever. in the meantime we’re going to paint the bed and i’m going to add a top layer for some small flowers. 

i didn’t know what to expect when i took him out of the bag they brought him back in, but before they put him in the freezer for the night, they positioned him so it looked like he was curled up and about to fall asleep. i got to pet him again and hold him and his fur was just as soft as always even though it was cold. i’ve never held a pet once they had died before (or during), and it felt like this made it so my body knows now too, and it’s helped so much with those moments where i think i feel him jumping onto the bed or i’m waiting for him to bump against my legs. with pets in the past it was always like i knew rationally what happened but emotionally and in the muscle memory, they had just disappeared suddenly, and this was completely different and it’s felt a lot more gentle. after we buried him, my partner and i went for a walk, we came back, and i started automatically trying to place him (like i have every single time i’ve come home for 8 years, and usually i wouldn’t have to try very hard because he would always run up to the door), and instead of just feeling lost, i could place him again. and then i could go and sit with him, with the image of him in the garden bed and the feeling of him in my hands.

i miss grunkle stan so much and i’m always going to, he was a special cat, he gave me so much love, and i’m feeling really blessed and relieved to be able to also take care of him after death the way i want to. he’s my big baby boy and i love him so much

[koolades-world]

I always forget about the cat tax!!! I shall pay it!! I hope you can forgive me haha🙏

Under read more because I am a yapper and I love my precious little babies <333

Quick context to make this make sense: I’m a college student but still live at home to save money. I currently commute to and from campus

Now that that’s out of the way, this is our residential grumpy old man, Peanut. He’s very much my mom’s cat and hates everyone else. The only other person he can tolerate is me probably me because I fill up his bowl when she’s busy. He’s only loud when he needs his food or water refilled. One day we just found him outside and after he stuck around for a day or so we decided the cat distribution system was hard at work and that we should respect it. Because of that we don’t actually know how old he is but the vet estimated he had to be at least nine or ten. We like to call him Mr. Peanut Butter or just Peanuts

This is Poco. He’s the veggie eater. He’s a little shit but he’s very cute. He has three favorite toys and none of which belonged to him to begin with. He’ll often make his three am zoomies with them in his mouth. He’s also very talkative. We got him from a rescue during the pandemic. He turned four in April <3 he’s got many nicknames but the more common include Pocoyo, Mr. Poco, and Sir Pocomoco the Third. In the past he also went by Garbage, Butters, and Silly

The next three are all siblings. We got them when they were a week old and were originally intended to be just foster babies. A couple months later and we learnt the whole litter needed eye surgery to ensure their future health and quality of life. Here’s where things get a little complicated. Three of the four in the litter got the surgery successfully but one wasn’t able to because of a slew of issues they discovered. I’ll get a little more into that later.

This is Rio. She’s blind and she’s very much my dad’s cat. She loves him so much to the point once she figures out he’s not in his room, she’ll actually leave and go wait for him by the front door. She’s our residential hunter and we cbs always count in her to get any and all roaches in the house. It’s impressive how well she can track them and it’s a game to her trying to catch them. We call her Chunky Monkey or Madam Chunky because she’s very round and loves to eat haha. Besides her eye problems, she’s a healthy girl

This is Cairo. He’s the baby with all of the health issues, but he’s very playful and is by far the most active. He loves his crinkle balls and his rabbit fur ball. He loves to cuddle and he also loves to look out of windows. I won’t get into all of his issues since we’d be here all day, but he’s got several eyes issues, heart issues, and kidney issues. He loves loves water and needs to be next to you while you’re using the sink, loves to burrow under the covers, and loves his sisters <3 currently he’s on three different medications and actually has an appointment with his heart specialist tomorrow! His nicknames include Baby Cai, Mr. Baby Man, and Cai

Last but certainly not least is Florence. She’s my cat and needs to be with me at all times or the world is basically going to end. She loves anything chicken and her favorite blankie. She likes to sit right next to where my head goes every night and will often sleep there even when I’m just in my laptop. If I’m not in my bed or at my desk though, she won’t sit there and needs to follow me even if I’m taking a short trip to the bathroom. Sometimes she listens when I tell her I’ll be right back. She’s incredibly vocal and since we think she’s been blind her entire life, her mannerisms differ from everyone else’s. She doesn’t understand how to do certain things the cat way, so she does it her way instead. Her nicknames include Little Flo, Florence Flo, and Stinky because she has the worst farts and wicked breath

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk!!!!!!!! Honorable mentions to my dog. She loves the cats too lol

this is something a little different again, but after going on a short trip and returning back to the cats being clingier than ever, thought this would be a fun little thing to do. creating this list made me realize that satan really is the most ideal character for me, like ever lol

oddly specific things i've experienced as a cat owner that i think satan would treasure

having to fish a cat hair out of the piping hot tea i just brewed with my fingers and failing multiple times

coming home to the bed i made that morning no longer being made because the cats decided to have a party under the covers

trying to sweep fur off the bed and getting my hands attacked by the cats because they think it's a game

trying to type but being swiped at because the cat really enjoyes the sound of the keyboard and the motions of my hand (that's happening right now lol)

sneezing and getting glared at by one of the cats who was sleeping until you excuse yourself (that also just happened)

a book i had only put down for a second upside down without a book mark being knocked off the table

the blind cats causing any kind of mischief and then thinking they're hidden when really they're trying to hide behind something smaller than them

waking up in the middle of the night to a cat stepping on your stomach and or one laying down on your face

ordering some catnip toys online and the cats attacking the package trying to get to them despite the toys being in about three layers of plastic (and of course the plastic is part of the playing as well)

having to find creative ways to disguise or hide any kind of cables because the cats enjoy them a little too much

getting a bath from the cat with the slinkiest breath but not wanting to stop them because you appreciate the effort

them getting so excited to see me that they flop over so hard you can hear them hitting the ground and start rolling around on the floor

one of the cats favorite foods being leafy greens (he loves kale but refuses to eat iceberg lettuce)

another cat always going to attack one specific charm on my bracelet every time they're sitting in my lap

[mindninjax]

To Shape a Home (14)

Winter- Chapter 14

Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: A little Angst, Smut

WC: 4K

a/n: Ok so yeah there had to be some angst to tie the rest of the story together alright!?!?!? BUT it's not ALL angst it's only for a few seconds and that's it. PROMISE.

The peak of winter rears its ugly head with a nasty snow storm that rages for an entire week. Luckily, you were able to get the barn fixed and set up for winter weather for Faitima with Hanta’s help. The winds have been slipping through the holes in the wood but with a bit of insulation, you were able to make Fatima’s home warm and comfy.

She’s warmed up to you a lot and there have been many days where you and Frenchie have gone out to spend the entire day with her in the barn. Frenchie loves the snow and it’s almost impossible to get him to come back in whenever you take him out for a walk.

Neijire sends updated emails every day with details about the art show as the day draws nearer. Whoever’s idea it was to have an art show in the middle of winter was nuts. But you keep yourself from becoming too stressed about it by thinking about how this will be the last time you have to do this.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in days, and it almost feels like you’re missing a part of yourself. Your days don’t feel complete if you don’t see him and it kind of scares you how much he’s become part of your life. He’d told you to stay safe and indoors and not to risk driving to see him,(even though you’re pretty sure you could make it).

He’s unable to come to you when he finds out Sweet Mama is indisposed with a swollen hoof. He was moodier than usual, feeling hopeless because there wasn’t much he could do until the storm stopped. Not to mention with the off season, more shops in town are going out of business. Joja Mart was sweeping them under the rug, no longer interested in selling products at lower costs. They’d apparently moved on to purchasing businesses. That was enough to make Katsuki’s mood sour even more.

When the snow isn’t blocking the phone lines you’re able to call and chat with him. When you do, he sounds on edge, harsh clipped sentences when you ask him about his day.

“How’s Sweet Mama?” you ask one day while slicing sausage for Frenchie.

“Still shitty,” he grumbles on the phone. In the background you can hear something clattering in anger. “And with the fuckin’ storm no vet can get out here to check her out.”

You sigh, “It’ll be alright Katsu. She’s a stubborn gal, remember? Like hell something like this will get her spirits down,” you say trying to cheer him up.

He doesn’t buy it. He only grumbles again to himself and snaps, “She fucking needs medical help. And I can't do shit about it. Your frilly words ain’t gonna help her.”

The bite in his voice throws you off. It’s not the usual teasing tone he uses when he’s trying to act like he’s a hard ass but really he’s being soft. This time it almost sounds like he means it. You pause mid-slice and Frenchie, who’s sitting at your feet gazing up at you with big begging eyes, nudges your knee with his head. Your silence is enough of a hint for Katsuki and you hear him sigh.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Sweets I’m just…”

“Stressed. It’s ok. I understand,” you reply, cutting him off with a gentle tone. You hear him blow out an exasperated breath and you can picture the way he’s running his fingers through his spiky blonde hair.

“Have you been sleeping?” you ask, feeding a piece of sausage to Frenchie and rubbing between his ears.

“Slept a bit in the barn last night,” he grunts.

“The barn?” you ask, placing the knife down and walking toward the living room to sit on the couch.

“Been sleeping out there with her. Can’t just leave her all alone and shit,” he mutters and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice, the helplessness he feels. You picture him out in the barn, lying on the hay next to Sweet Mama, wrapped in a blanket as the storm rages outside. It warms you and you wish you could be there with him.

As if he’s inside your head he says in a voice thick with emotion, “Wish you were here. You’d do your weird talking thing with her and make her feel better.”

You chuckle, “Wish I was there too. I miss you,” you reply and your heart aches at how true the statement is. God, when did you become the girl who can’t go a week without seeing her boyfriend?

He hums over the phone, and you hear rustling as he settles onto his couch. “Mmm say it again. I like when you tell me you miss me,” he says in a husky voice.

You giggle and bite your lip. “I miss you Katsuki.”

“I miss you too,” he replies almost instantly. His voice always makes your heart skip a beat.

Something crashes to the floor in your kitchen and it makes you jump in fright. Frenchie scatters from the scene as you get up and run toward the knife now on the floor and the half-eaten sausage.

“Frenchie! You know better!” you shout and Katsuki guffaws in your ear.

You roll your eyes. “I gotta go and make sure he didn’t eat my entire supply. Make sure you’re warm if you’re sleeping in the barn Katsu. And you should try singing or humming to her. Fatima likes when I hum while I milk her. Try it out,” you say quickly before saying good bye and hanging up quickly.

The snowstorm is definitely putting a damper on things. You hope for his sake, the storm eases up soon.

It’s finally clear enough to drive a few days later and you’re ecstatic. Shouta and Hizashi came by your place as soon as the storm ended to exchange gifts and help you install snow chains on your car. You spend all day making Katsuki’s favorite meal, Pepper Poppers and finally perfecting your grandmother’s peach crumble recipe. You even bring a tiny painting of Sweet Mama you worked on while stuck in the house.

Surprising Katsuki is going to be great! It’s crazy how much you missed him. You can clearly imagine the shock on his face when he sees you come into the house, how it’ll change to joy. Maybe he’ll run and pick you up and spin you around like in the movies.

Yes, it’s silly but you do wear your twirliest dress, just in case.

It takes most of the day for you to get the crumble and the pepper poppers together but you want it to be perfect. You’re a bit surprised that Katsuki didn’t call as soon as it stopped snowing. You’d thought you might have to talk him out of hurrying over to your house after the storm stopped but you hadn’t heard from him. It was a bit strange but considering how worried he’d been about Sweet Mama you’d thought perhaps his first priority was going to get the vet so they could check her out.

Either way you’re vibrating with excitement when you pull into his driveway. The sun has set and the sky is littered with thousands of sparkling stars. It’s a clear calm night and you take a big gulp of the cool air before hopping out of your truck and gathering the food.

You tiptoe up the stairs of his porch, fiddling in your pocket for the key when something catches your eye. The door is slightly ajar, a sliver of light is peeking through the opening, cutting through the dark night. You pause, staring in confusion at the door. Why’s the door open? Katsuki wouldn’t leave it open, even if he was running out to the barn for a second. Plus if that were the case, he’d go out the back door.

You take a step forward and a shiver of fear shoots up your spine.What’s going on? Is someone here? Is there an intruder? Your heart races, your throat becomes dry. Should you call someone? Maybe Eiji? It would take too long for him to get here. What if Katsuki was hurt? All of your thoughts move too fast in your mind and start to ramble together to form nonsense.

There’s suddenly a crash, something smashes and shatters inside the house and you hear grunting and panting, like there’s a struggle. You race into the house, dropping the food and running into the living room screaming his name.

“Katsuki!”

The house is a mess. Furniture is flipped over, vases and glasses are shattered all over the floor. The pots and pans you got him as a gift are strewn about all over the place. There’s a path of disarray that leads you to the living room where Katsuki is standing, or more so swaying, as he throws a book at the wall.

You’re confused, trying to look around for an intruder but the only one here is him.

“Katsuki?” you pant trying to figure out what’s happening. He whips around at the sound of your voice and instantly you know when you see his eyes. Bloodshot, hazy and misty, slow blinks and dark circles under his eyes. You don’t even have to look at the bottle in his hand to know.

Katsuki is drunk.

He glares at you, like you’re his enemy and it’s more intense than when he first showed up at your home that day you two met. He takes a swig of beer from the bottle he’s holds tight in his fist, then wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his black sweater he’s wearing and slurs, “Get the fuck out.”

It takes you a minute to fully grasp the situation. You stand there with squinted eyes as you take in your surroundings. Investigating Katsuki, he’s barefoot, black sweatpants hanging from his waist sloppily. His sweat shirt is damp, maybe from a spill or from sweat, you’re not sure but it clings to his chest. He sways with his hands out to his sides to keep his balance and there’s streaks of red pouring down his arm where his sleeve is pulled up to show an injury.

“Katsuki….you… you’re bleeding.” you enunciate each word carefully so he can understand you and take a step toward him with your arm outstretched toward him.

He winces and steps back away from you. “I said get the fuck out!”

You watch him for a long time, trying to piece together what might’ve happened. Did something happen to Sweet Mama? It…couldn't be that. He wouldn’t start drinking again because of that. You shake your head. You’ll figure it out later, right now, you need to take care of his arm.

“No,” you reply simply.

He looks like a bull ready to charge you. “You’re in my fucking house, on MY property and I want you to GET THE FUCK OUT.”

You’re frightened but you stand your ground. “I said no, Katsuki,” you reply firmly.

The look he gives you is one you’ve never seen on his face, even back when you thought he hated you. This expression is one of extreme disdain and it is all directed at you.

“You think you finally belong? That doing all of this shit will make your grandpa come back? Sorry to be the only real one here to tell you that’s not how it fucking works. He’s dead and nothin’ you do now will erase the fact that you left him.”

He spits those words at you like poison. He emphasizes every syllable. He wants it to hurt, to sting like salt in a wound. His eyes are so red he looks like an enraged beast standing there staring at you. His words hit you square in the chest, like they’re solid and heavy. It hurts so much you gasp like the wind has been knocked violently from your lungs and for a second all you can think is: Is this how Gramps felt?

Tears you no longer can bite back and hide from him spill down your cheeks as you clutch at your chest and stare at him in disbelief. He falters for only a second, hints of regret displayed in his cold stare but then his expression changes back to that twisted snarl and he’s spewing venom again, eager to pound the final nail in the coffin.

“Why don’t you ever know how to mind your fucking business? Ya think anyone wants you here? Ya think I want you here? You were just a good fuck. I hadn’t had any pussy in a while and you happened to be the best candidate. That’s it. So why don’t you fuck off and go back to the trash heap where you came from.”

If you were smart, you’d leave. If you were smart, you’d yell at him and cry and run out of there and leave him alone to wallow in his anger and self pity.

If you were the woman you used to be, you would’ve.

But you’re not. You're the woman your grandfather always knew you were and that’s why he never gave up on you. And now why you won’t run away from him. You take another step toward him, head held high, shoulders pulled back and proud. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and wipe the tears from your cheeks. His shoulders tense and his limbs lock as you come closer to him. He takes a step back and he almost looks frightened. You make sure to stay focused on his eyes, make sure he can see how much you care, how much you love him and when you can see the smallest crack in his angry exterior you take another wary step.

You’ve already decided. You’re not leaving anyone you love behind ever again.

Why did he say that to you? Why did he do that to you? Why does he want to hurt someone like you? Someone he’d finally been able to open up to. Someone who understood him. Who didn’t shy away from him when he yelled or got angry.

Why did he say that to someone he loves?

“You finished?” you ask in a small but steady voice and he hesitates.

What do you mean? Will you leave? He wouldn’t blame you after the shit he just said. His vision is blurred, from the alcohol or the tears, he’s not sure. In the confusion he doesn’t know if he’s hearing correctly either.

“What?” he barks.

“I asked if you were finished, Katsuki,” you say sternly.

He doesn’t understand. You don’t even look angry. How could you not be angry with him? If the situation had been reversed, if you’d said such terrible things to him, he’d shatter then destroy you with the most evil words he could think of.

You’re way too good for him and now you must know it. Katsuki doesn’t respond. He stands in the middle of the room still glaring on wobbly legs as he tries to keep his balance. You sigh and take a wary step toward him.

“I am not going to leave you Katsuki. You can stand there and scream all the terrible shit you want at me. Go for it, get it all out. But I’m not leaving. If there’s one thing I learned from my Gramps, it’s patience. He never stopped trying with me, even though I said terrible shit to him, even though he sat dying in a hospital and I never visited him. He still left me his farm, his pride and joy.”

You’re walking toward him, crunching over the shattered glass and dodging the overturned tables as you speak. Your voice wavers when you mention your grandfather and all of his limbs react to it instantly, wanting to reach out and hold you, but he doesn’t.

“I’m not letting him down again. I’m not running away and hiding like I did before. So, I'm not leaving. Keep yelling if you have to, but at least lemme stop the bleeding on your arm before you pass out,” you explain, reaching out to him.

You never take your eyes from his and he wishes you would. He wishes you would stop looking at him like that. It’s not what he deserves, not after what he just said to you. Everything in the room is fuzzy, clouded by the alcohol pumping through his veins.

Everything is fuzzy, except you.

You’re standing directly in front of him now, he grinds his teeth, trying not to cry in front of you. His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides he knows his fingernails are piercing the skin of his palms. It only makes the blood oozing from the wound cascade down the muscles of his arm faster.

Why won’t you go away? Why won’t you go and find someone worth doing all this shit for? If you leave, it only cements the fact that there must be something wrong with him. Camie left him and now you will too. So why don’t you?

He shuts his eyes, he doesn’t want to look at you anymore. He doesn’t want to see the pain on your face. He doesn’t want to see how beautiful you look despite the pain. He doesn’t want to see the way you still look at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

“Why?” is the only thing he can muster up to ask. It’s the only thing he has the courage to ask.

He hears you sniffle and chuckle. “Because I love you, stupid.”

Your tiny hand wraps around his and you unfurl his fists. As soon as he feels your warmth, he lets go, collapses on his knees in front of you and cries out in agony. He clutches your legs, presses his ear against your stomach and lets the tears flow like a babbling river down his face. It feels good to let go, but it feels even better to let go when you bend down with him and pull his head into your chest.

He tightens his grip on your dress when he wraps his arms around your back. You’re so warm. You smell like home. You feel so right, like one of his favorite days on the farm, when clouds are in the sky but the sun is still out and he can see the blue of the sky. And even in this drunken pitiful state he knows he’d have been the world’s biggest idiot to let you leave out the door.

You run your fingers through his hair as sobs wrack his body and he tries to focus on nothing but you. The way your heart is beating, the way your chest moves slowly up and down as you take deep breaths. Your nimble fingers are scratching his scalp. Your gentle hums—it’s that same song as before— as you calm him and your sweet swelling breath as you place a heated kiss to his forehead.

He loves you. He should tell you. He should tell you just how much but it’s caught in his throat again. He wants to feel your lips on his. He has to. He’s never needed anything more than your lips right now. So he pulls back from burying his face in your chest, cranes his neck up and presses his lips against yours. It’s hard, desperate, and the second he feels how soft and plush and warm they are, his hands are reaching up to hold your face and keep you there.

You part your lips and his tongue enters smoothly to taste you. It’s a heavenly sound when you whimper against his lips. You pull his hair and groan and he knows you want him just as much as he wants you.

He pulls away from your lips and opens his eyes to gaze at you only long enough to whisper against your lips, in a voice thick with sadness and admiration.

“I love you.”

There isn’t enough time to fully undress, so he pushes the debris and glass out of the way to make a clear patch of floor for him to lay you down. He has enough foresight to grab a blanket that’s nearby, shake it off and drape it over the floor before picking you up and gently lowering you on your back.

Your legs part automatically when he slots himself between them, he’s already unbuttoning his pants as he litters sloppy open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You lift your dress and both his hands and yours find the loop of your panties and drag them down your legs.

The cool air in the room swirls around his heated cock and it makes him shiver. You’re panting, mewling desperately as you arch your back and pull him closer. Neither of you speak, communicating only through the fevered caresses, heavy breathing and moaning as he readies himself at your entrance. He slides the tip of his cock through your folds, drenching him in your slick before he finally pushes into your tight heat and your cunt sucks him.

Both of you cry out in relief, him a long winded “Yes” as he drags the last syllable out and you a pretty little gasp of his name. He nestles his face into your neck, pulls out and snaps his hips against yours. The room swells with the sounds of your moans, his grunts, and the shifting of the damaged property surrounding the two of you as he pounds into your cunt. The heat between you is burning, his heavy balls slap against your thighs and with every slap Katsuki feels an increasing amount of admiration for you.

Right now, while buried to the hilt inside of you, nothing else matters. Not the pain in his arm, not the farm, the mess of glass and splintered wood littered around his home, not his past, not the girls or his garden, nor Ei or Camie or anyone.

Nothing feels as good as being with you and having your pussy squeeze him and your nails dig into his skin as you beg him for more. He fucks you hard and deep, panting and growling like some feral lovesick beast. He can’t get enough of you, and he desperately tries to feel all of you as he presses your legs against your chest. He knows you’re close because you're shaking, probably from the way his cock knocks against your cervix with every push of his hips.

He feels you come, feels the way your cunt spasms and he welcomes it proudly, happy to have gotten you to ecstasy. When you pull the hair at the nape of neck he growls out, “Fuck!” before he’s thrusting back into you one last time and spilling a load of cum, thick, creamy and hot inside of you.

He collapses down on top of you and you both stay there for what feels like hours, catching your breath as you rub his back softly. He’s exhausted, on the brink of sleep as he rolls off of you and onto his back. He still holds your hand, the room spinning as a liquor headache forms behind his eyes. All he wants is to sleep next to you and maybe all of the pain will go away.

Panic settles deep into his gut when you push him off of you and pull your dress back down to fall around your ankles. You move to get up but he tightens his grip around your wrist. His limbs are too relaxed and he only has enough strength to tug your sleeve.

He slurs in a voice too vulnerable for anyone’s ears but yours, "Don't...don’t leave me.”

You lean down to press your lips softly to his and again he feels that everything will be ok as long as he’s able to keep kissing you like this, for the rest of his life.

“I told you I'm not leaving you. But I need to get something for your arm. Stay. I’ll be back,” you say against his lips.

You take off the sweater you’re wearing and drape it over him. It’s warm and it smells like you and when he inhales your scent, it enraptures him and sobers the drunken hazy thoughts in his mind. He stays conscious just long enough to see you return to him with a wet rag before he passes out and his world becomes dark.

--

Thanks for reading!

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #39)

Chapter #39. Okay our poor hero has been through more than enough. How about a chance to heal? This chapter is SUPER fluffy. Can you tell what time of year it was when I wrote this?

Previous: Chapter #38

Next: Chapter #40

CW: None ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #39: Home for the Holidays

Word Count: 1226 Read Time: Approx. 10 mins

[Penn's POV]

Like an impossibly white light shone directly into my eyes, it was as though life flooded into my brain with a sudden flash. Everything rushed forward and I found myself gasping desperately for air.

Every part of my body was ablaze with pain, I felt like a bloodless, lifeless husk of a living being. But I’d survived. Somehow. Miraculously. I’d made it. Slowly, my senses began to return to me. First, touch, which was a blessing and a curse. Almost all at once I could feel the open wounds, the blood oozing out of my cracked skull, the bruises, the fractured ribs, the aching muscles, my crushed windpipe, and the exasperated lungs. But I could also feel warm, soft and familiar flesh cradling me, embracing me. I knew immediately who’s hand surrounded my broken body. Had she been the one to save me?

Then, my sense of hearing returned. First, as nothing more than a horrible, high pitched din as my brain felt like it was swimming inside my skull. Slowly, the world around me came into focus. Her voice strained, cracked with sobs, but exhilarated, reached my ears “Oh!! Penn! Oh, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay! I knew I wouldn’t lose you. You’re too strong for that…. My sweet, Penn. You’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay…” The soft pads of her fingers traced my body, caressed my hair, rested over my heart, squeezed my hand, but her touch was feather light. She was so gentle so as not to make any of my injuries worse.

Finally, as I peeled open my bloodshot eyes, my vision returned bit by bit. “Hello, Penn.” she smiled, those eyes brilliant as ever, flooded with shimmering tears. I tried to say something in return but realized my throat was clogged with blood. I sputtered and coughed before hacking it up off of the edge of Eveline’s hand. This shook my whole body to its core as I wretched, my throat incredibly sore and raw. I collapsed back onto the surface of her palm, trying to catch my breath as my chest heaved from that relatively small effort. “Don’t try to speak just yet, yeah? Let’s make sure you get all healed up properly.” I couldn’t even muster the strength to nod my head yes.

The next day and a half was an excruciating blur. Hours felt like minutes and seconds lasted for weeks. I couldn’t speak. I could hardly breathe or swallow. I ebbed in and out of sleep every few hours. Every time I woke she was right by my side, almost always holding me. She told me I had been to see a vet and had been prescribed some pain medication, but I had no memory of that. The medicine helped dull the pain so that I could swallow and breathe a little easier. She was so gentle and attentive. At times, she seemed to be taking it harder than I was. She was so worried about me, her brow permanently furrowed, as she searched my face for signs of pain. I wanted to tease her about being too much of a worrier, but still couldn’t muster the strength to speak. After all, what was one more brush with death for a guy like me? It was old hat! I knew that wasn’t true, of course. I was beside myself with terror as I faced down what I thought were the final seconds of my life. But, if I could find a way to lighten the mood and help her to relax, it was worth it to me. For as much pain as I was in, I could only imagine how much more dire it must’ve looked to her. I was already so small and fragile to her, that seeing me hardly able to move on my own must’ve really impacted her. I wished I could calm her down. I knew she blamed herself for this, but I didn’t. She had told him to leave and he did this behind her back. It wasn’t her fault.

Luckily, due to the holiday season, the band had scheduled for a week off from the tour to return home. Originally, the plan was to fly back from Chicago to Texas, and hire a company to transport the van and our gear. I was in no shape to fly, so Eveline and Travis decided they’d road-trip in the van with me. This act of compassion made tears well up in my eyes. Eveline just kept stroking my hair, promising me they were happy to do it. The trip took about two days.

As I slipped in and out of consciousness, listening to the wind whip the sides of the van as it tore down the ice covered highway, my body thrumming to the vibrations of the vehicle as I laid in Eveline’s lap, I couldn’t help the flash of horrible, violent memories from behind my closed eyelids. Seeing his menacing hands or feet edging nearer and nearer before blotting out all light. I would jump awake, bathed in a cold sweat, whimpering. She held me close until I could bring my heart rate down to a steady, even rhythm. This trip, although blurry and streaked with pain, made me feel so close to her. She was my guardian angel again.

********************

It was excruciating to see him so battered and broken like this. I was burning with rage, at Sam, yes, but mostly at myself. This tiny man was the most precious thing in my life and I had put him in harm’s way. It killed me that I couldn’t observe him up close, to really see how he was getting on. In this weak and vulnerable state, I was forced to remember just how small and easily breakable he was. We’d been so lucky to find him alive. 

He was fighting hard to recover and making progress faster than I ever could have dreamed. Every time he woke up crying and trembling like a leaf, I could only imagine what sort of horrible things he was reliving. I felt practically sick with grief and guilt as I watched him wile away the hours, almost too weak to move. I had noticed how strangely stoic Sam had acted when I told him we were done, but I hadn’t realized he had been capable of something so incredibly fucked up.

I couldn’t help feeling like this whole disaster was my fault. If only I’d realized. If only I’d kept him safe from harm. In the last four days since the incident I never left his side. I couldn’t help feeling like I had making up to do for putting him in a position to get hurt.

He was more mobile now, able to sit up, stand and walk short distances. His throat was healing and he was able to eat more than just apple sauce or pudding. His voice was cracked, raspy, strained, but he could finally speak, too. This was a huge relief. I had been terrified he may never recover that silky, wonderful voice of his. He was determined to heal and I was incredibly impressed by the strength of his will. He may have been easily battered, but he was impossible to break. In his own way, he was the strongest person I’d ever met. We felt confident he would make a full recovery by the end of our holiday vacation, if not before.

Now as we got closer to home, the Texas border only fifteen or so miles away, I watched as he slept, curled up on my hand. He hugged my thumb close to his chest, the tip of which rested over his tiny heart. He was sleeping soundly, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted. I was so in love with this perfect, sweet man. A tear rolled down my cheek as I shook my head in disbelief. Where would I be without him? Sweet dreams, handsome, get some rest. I found myself relaxing into the vibrations of the car as I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Maybe we both deserved to rest… Just for a few minutes.

I didn’t wake up until I heard the tires grind to a stop in the driveway. For one heart stopping moment I didn’t feel a warm little bundle of fabric and flesh on my palms. I shot up, terrified, only to see Travis leaning over the wheel smirking at me with Penn, sitting in his pocket, his little head in his hands chuckling at my panic and waving. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty..” he smiled. He loved getting one up on me, the little bastard!

I grimaced at them and they fist bumped each other. “This is gonna be a long Christmas vacation if the two of you are gonna fuck with me the whole time…” I rolled my eyes, teasingly, as I shuffled out of the van. Travis followed suit, meeting me around the front.

“Aww don’t worry, Ev! We’ll give you a break… when we’re unconscious!” He tackled me in a side bear hug, tousling my hair until it stood in a giant mess on the top of my head, pulled out from its loose ponytail. As he pinned me to his chest, bulging arm wrapped snugly around my neck, I found myself at eye level with the pet in his breast pocket. Penn pointed and laughed so hard he cried. He was having way too much fun at my expense. I mouthed “Fuck you” at him and he just flipped me the finger, until Travis released his grip, laughing heartily, “It’s good to be home for the holidays isn’t it?” I groaned. But of course, he was right. I hadn’t flown back to Texas since I’d been with Sam. It was nice to reconnect with my roots after so long.

Travis’ family was hosting, in their one story suburban home that hadn’t changed a bit since he and I had worked on 8th grade book reports and final projects there all those years ago. Sure, the paint was peeling from the shutters and the lawn had seen better days but it was exactly as I remembered it. His parents greeted us at the door, his father looking exactly like him, tall, broad shouldered, dusted with freckles and, of course, that beautiful copper hair, except his was cut short and streaked with gray. His mother was a thin, lithe woman, with sweet green eyes and straight brown hair, she was tall in her own right but was dwarfed by her son. Hamish and Junie were their names.

The second the door opened his parents rushed forward to hug him, “Woah, woah!” He took a step back, “Careful! Mom, Dad, meet Penn. Penn, meet Mom and Dad!”

Hamish’s voice, sounding eerily similar to his son’s, burst into hearty, belly laughter as Junie rushed to put her reading glasses on, “Ha ha! Of course! How could we forget the famous little fellow?” They both leaned in to greet him, he held out his hand to shake. Delighted, both man and woman gripped his tiny palm between their fingers, this time Junie spoke, “Well aren’t you just the perfect gentleman? We’re delighted to meet you! Travis tells me you’re quite the talented musician!” Penn’s face flushed as he ran his hands through his hair.

Just then, they noticed me standing behind Travis on the lower step. Sorry, Penn, but you’re not quite the same level of famous in the Birch household. They rushed past their own son and both embraced me like I was their long lost child. I couldn’t help the tears that welled up in my eyes. I’d missed this so much more than I’d realized.

Soon, we all filed into the house and found ourselves in a chaotic, Christmas wonderland. I’d forgotten how much Junie loved this time of year. The Rankin and Bass Rudolph was playing at full blast in the living room, while the three Christmas trees visible from the entryway twinkled with colored lights. Tacky Santa figurines lined all available shelf space like holiday themed sentinels. There were garlands hung on every available counter and over the mantle. A huge nativity scene on the top. The fire was on despite it being a typically warm Texas winter. Christmas cards were pinned on a massive board near the kitchen table. The whole house smelled sickly sweet of icing and the warm sensuous smell of something baking. Junie was a local celebrity for her baking skills. There were at least five haphazardly constructed gingerbread houses on display.

As soon as we stepped inside, I spotted the flaming red hair of another member of the Birch family, Travis’ little sister Lacey, or Lace for short. She was on the floor, her head propped in her hands as she watched with wide eyes at the stop-motion reindeer on the screen. When she saw me, she screamed, running over and tackling me in a koala hug. She’d gotten so big! I hadn’t seen her in two years… she must’ve been twelve now. She almost barreled me over. “EVIE!!” She was the only one I ever allowed to call me that.

“Lace!!!! I missed you!” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her back just as tightly. As soon as her bare feet touched back down on the carpet, “Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet… close your eyes!” She did so, I looked at Penn, lifting an eyebrow, he nodded, face full of color, his brown eyes sparkling. I gingerly helped him up and out of Travis’ pocket and set him down in my cupped hand. He sat back, his knee just before his chest, his weight resting on one arm. “Okay, open!” Her face lit up with a childlike wonder and amazement that I couldn’t help admiring. “Lacey, this is Penn. Penn, this is Travis’ sister, Lacey…”

His voice was still a little strained but he was in much better shape, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lacey!” He stretched out his hand and she tentatively, gently placed the pad of her finger into his palm. He pulled it toward him and kissed the tip of her finger. She giggled, absolutely enamored.

Dani and Riley were there as well, Dani sporting an ugly Christmas sweater with dinosaurs on it and rocking a pair of sunglasses inside, for some reason. Riley had a Santa hat on, both were sipping eggnog like it was going out of style. “Sup losers??” Dani stuck out her tongue from behind her mug as she lowered her shades to look at us.

I couldn’t help smiling. This was home. It was family. And I was getting to share it with Penn, who I was sure had never had a family to call his own. I felt his eyes on me, and as I lifted him up, he pressed his cheek into the pad of my thumb. I kissed him on his hair as he whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Eveline. This is incredible….”

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 13

Word Count: 1599

Warning - Angst

A/N once again thanks to my beta buddy @sillyrabbit81 I'm going to finish this story this week or next hopefully :) so hehe hold onto your hats Selah

Chapter 13 – Jessie

Jessie kicked the door to the back of the house open, for the first time in a long-time panic filled her brain as she yelled, “Quick Joe get my medical bag from the truck.” All eyes turned to her. She looked a sight, blood splattered across her top, her neck and face and through her hair. In her arms lay Henry his limp body terrifying the group more than the blood. Joe quickly jumped into action, his training kicking into gear as he ran to the truck. Tom ran to Jessie attempting to take the wolf’s body from her, but she refused to let him go. Refused to accept that he was possibly gone.

She pushed past Joe into the kitchen, sizing up the situation and determining the table was the best place to operate. “Dillon, go get the tarp from the shed? Tom, clear the table off, I don’t have time to get to the clinic, so this is going to have to do.”

Together the boys worked fast, clearing the table, laying out the protective cover, and Joe organising what was needed from the travel kit that she used at the ranches. Finally, she allowed Joe to take Henry from her arms laying him out on the table.

“Where is the wound Jessie?” he asked assessing his body.

“Shoulder, right scapula, the bullet is lodged in the bone.” The panic was beginning to settle allowing her training to kick into gear, but the next words from Joe halted her.

“Jessie, are you hurt? Where did all the blood come from? This wound would not bleed like that.”

The boys all looked at her, then she looked down at Henry, she couldn’t lose it, not yet, not until he was safe. A growl built in her throat busting its way through her mouth, “Just concentrate on Henry, I’m fine. Just focus on him.”

Together they worked on the wolf, after 30 minutes all that remained was a shaved square of skin and a neatly stitched up hole. A bullet lay next to the bloody gauzes and surgical tools. Together they cleaned him up and Tom carried him up to their bedroom laying him on the bed. They attached the IV bag to her headboard and at that moment Jessie's adrenaline faded, the images of what she had witnessed, flooded her mind and she shakily slid to the floor. Not sure what to do, the boys moved towards her trying not to crowd her, but all concerned.

Questions began filtering through her haze. “Are you alright Jessie? Are you hurt? What happened?” She tried to speak, but nothing could come out, even that action was too much.

She finally heard another voice, Dillon’s talking to the boys. “We have to get her out of those clothes and in a bath, Tom, go run a bath, Joe and I will look after her here, ok.”

She heard his shaky voice protest. “No, if anyone should do that it should be me.”

She wanted to protest to tell them to leave her alone, but it was like she was trapped within her own body. Nothing was working. Gratefully, she heard Joe’s placating Tom. “We have known her a long time Tom. Please, just do what we are asking you to do.” Silence hung in the air until a small sob could be heard and then footsteps.

Very gently the boys undressed her, assessing her body for damage, they left her underclothes on thankfully unspoiled by the blood. It was a strange sensation being cared for like this, Jessie wanted to talk, wanted to move but found she was too exhausted to carry out her own wants. Dillon, the stronger of the two lifted her gently bridal style, her long legs hanging off his arm as he gently sat her in the bath. Together, they removed all traces of blood from her hair and skin. At one point Dillon left leaving Joe on his own to sit with her. “Jessie, I don’t know what’s going on, but this looks really serious. Whatever it is you know that we will look after you, protect you and Henry ok. You’re safe with us.”

The words broke through her battered brain. Her breathing began to shudder, and her shoulders shook as the tears began to fall, the fear, panic and anger all tumbling over her in waves of emotion. Dillon returned with a cup of hot coffee saw the dam break, without thought he motioned for Joe, “Get in and hold her honey.” Fully clothed Joe got in the tub and pulled Jessie into his arms the water spilling slightly over the side of the tub as their weights combined. Dillon quickly sat the coffee down and mopped up the mess to the sounds of Jessie’s muffled cries.

A long time later, Jessie was warmly rugged up on the bed next to Henry. His breathing was gentle and steady, her shudders long subsided, chairs had been bought up to the room as Joe monitored Henry and no one was willing to leave Jessie. Finally, regaining some of her focus and right mind, Jessie had a new hot cup of coffee in her hands and was trying to work out a way to describe what had happened.

She looked at the boys who were all waiting patiently. “This morning when I went out to get the milk, there was a letter from Boyd. He threatened to kill Henry and harm Tom if I didn’t meet him this afternoon in the forest.”

Angry protests left Tom’s lip at this comment and Dillion placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him, before saying, “Keep going, Jessie. So, you slipped out to meet with Boyd?”

She looked down at Henry, her hand reached out to touch his fur and calm filled her at the contact. “He was blackmailing me to be his “little woman”, threatening us, and was in the process of trying to get me to kiss him when Henry jumped out in between us. Boyd laughed and pulled a gun on him, saying that if he killed five of the six wolves here fifteen years ago, he would kill one more. Something snapped in Henry, and he leapt at Boyd. The gun went off, but it didn’t deter him. He tore Boyd apart, ripping his throat out, and… and… once he was dead, he collapsed.”

Silence filled the room as each person looked at Henry, they all knew that he was now a condemned animal. If anyone figured out what had killed Boyd, the sheriff would order his destruction. Jessie would have no legal recourse to defy the order. Slow tears began to fall again down her cheeks, if only he could turn human if only he could fight hard enough then he would be safe. No court of law would be able to say a human had killed Boyd.

The boys began to stir, and it was Tom who spoke first. “Jessie, we can’t tell anyone. we have to let him be found by someone else. Give Henry enough of a chance to heal so he can get away. Once the town knows they will put out a hunting order, he won’t be safe anywhere here.” She knew he was right, if he was strong enough to move, she would have taken him far away, but he needed at least two days more to stabilise if his healing rate was anything like last time.

Grateful for his healing abilities she said quietly, “He will be ok in two maybe three days. You saw how quickly he healed last time Joe, then I will leave. I’ll drive until he is better, then we will find a new place to live. Joe, I’m sorry to do that to you. But I’m sure you could advertise for a new Vet to fill my place.” All three boys began to protest at her words none wanting her to leave. For a life lived in solitude, she had made an impact on all of their lives.

Tired and weary Jessie placed the coffee down and laid beside her rescuer, lover, and mate. Placing her hand lightly across his body, she shut her eyes and fell asleep.

Over the following day, Henry slowly began to wake. He had stopped appearing in Jessie’s dreams and his absence was acutely felt by her.

On the morning of the second day, Joe came running into the house shouting, “Jessie, Jessie, they found him! Jessie, the sheriff and the ranchers are set up at the local hall readying a hunt. But I heard Tom’s dad say they should start here first!!”

Panic filled her body; they had run out of time.

She ran up to their room. Tom was sitting by Henry, but there was no time to worry what he would think, what any of them thought. Pushing Tom out of the way she knelt next to Henry her hand threading into his fur as she had done that last time, they were together in her dream. Desperation filled her voice as she pleaded, “Henry, please Henry, you have to change, you have to come to the surface, they are coming to get you, I can’t protect you like this! Pleeeeese! Henry change!”

She heard the sound of someone banging on the front door, and Dillon and Joe answering. Loud shouts and angry voices were heard floating up the stairs as she looked back fixing her eyes on his startled blue ones.

“Please my love, my mate. Come back to me.”

Chapter 14

[bingusmode]

Smoke and the Stars

Spy x Reader

AN: In this story, your class name is Vet, short for Veterinarian.

Being elbow deep in Demomans organs was a bi-monthly activity Vet had to endure.

Not that she was complaining, once she got her first paycheck, she would do this every week if The Administrator asked. Her free hand reached up to swat the bottle of bourbon Demo was trying to pick up

“Stop that, At least wait until I get the new liver in”

“Aw, you’re no fun lassie,”

“You know what’s not fun? Liver failure”

Demo huffed and rolled his eyes as Vet slid the freshly sourced liver into place. Grabbing the Medigun above to seal the wound. Vet removed her blood stained gloves and handed Demo his well earned bottle.

“It would really help if you waited a few hours before drinking-“

“See you at dinner lass!”

He was already out the door. Vet sighed and cracked the bones in her sore back.

While she had gotten her degree in Veterinary Medicine, Miss Pauline assured her these men were close enough to animals. So far, she was right, Vet was sure that animals would leave less of a mess than her team did.

One of Medics spare doves cooed around her, hopping on her tool tray for attention. Vet smiled and rubbed the birds head with her finger

“Oh I know, I wish I could treat you instead.”

The dove cooed again before flying off to one of the many treat trays she had set around the operating room.

Vet opened the double doors out to the waiting room, going over her checklist.

“Alright boys, who’s next-“

Scout shoved himself infront of her before she could finish, trying to look sauve as possible with missing teeth.

Vet side stepped him and went about with her business. With Medic handling Heavy after an ubercharge gone wrong, she was left especially busy.

“Engineer?”

The Texan shook his head and leaned back in his chair

“Just came here for painkillers, arms been acting up”

Vet hummed and gave him a small RX bottle, moving down her list.

“Spy?”

Spy was something to say the least, she had never met someone so elegant and standoffish in her life, not to the mention his nasty habit of chain smoking.

Spy pulled away from his cigarette, letting the smoke spill from his lips.

“Trouble breathing,”

Vet did a double take

“You didn’t say that earlier?”

“I had an appointment with my tailor,”

Vet groaned, and motioned for him to follow her back into the operating room.

As she got set up again, she warily eyed the cigarette he held.

“Please put that out while you’re in here, trying to keep it clean”

“I know what Medic has in his fridge, and it’s not clean at all”

“I’m not Medic,”

Spy put out the cigarette anyway, standoffish? Yes, but a gentleman first.

With the Medigun positioned, and his suit unbuttoned, Vet got to work.

“You wouldn’t have trouble breathing if you didn’t smoke”

“Do you harass all your patients like this?”

“Only the fun ones,”

She smiled warily at him, Spy could see the exhaustion etched permanently on her face. He knew this was adding onto her pile of never ending work, but addiction is hard to break.

“It’s my escape, how else do you expect me to put up with Scouts insufferable antics?”

“Ignoring him like I do”

“You have more patience than me,”

Vet carefully removed one half of a blackened lung, quickly going to search the fridge for a fresh lung

“Thats the first ever complement you’ve given me, I’m honored Spy”

“It was an observation, not a complement”

“Keep telling yourself that”

The conversation slipped into comfortable silence. Spy closed his eyes and relaxed while she worked, he would never admit it. But he preferred her work over Medics, maybe it was her gentle touch rather than Medics harsh treatment. Or the rare moments of quiet she offered compared to the rest of the base.

It was almost like he could let his guard down, almost.

“Done.”

Vet closed him up and repeated her cleaning process, Spy’s fingers immediately found a cigarette and lighter.

“Absolutely not,”

Vet snatched the lighter

“No smoking in here, anywhere else sure, but I told you not in here,”

Spy admired her tenacity and unwillingness to back down, it made for interesting conversation. Another rare find throughout the base.

But still, he rolled his eyes and made his way to the exit. Vet right behind him to bring in her new patient.

“You’re work is always appreciated Doctor, but I’m afraid your insight will be ignored”

“Nicotine patches are a thing-“

“Nicotine patches don’t have elegance,”

He held out his hand for his lighter snd Vet reluctantly dropped it in.

“Being healthy is elegant. I just want the best for you boys”

Spy came to the conclusion Vet was a wonderful Doctor, but would make a terrible Spy. Always so open and honest, her emotions worn on her sleeve and ready to help at a moments notice.

Spy nodded at her before making his exit, momentarily considering her words.

But the lighter still flicked on and smoke once more filled his lungs.

Vet watched, a disapproving look on her face.

Scout tried to approach again but was shoved out of the way by a frantic Pyro. Holding up a stuffed animal with a tear in it. She knew she still had a long day ahead of her.

Weeks later, Spy found himself on the rooftop of TwoFort. Taking a drag of his comfort while looking up at the night sky. Vet was right, this was a nasty habit, but damn if it wasn’t warning him from the inside. It seemed like she was on his mind more and more nowadays.

Spy hated it, he hated feeling distracted, he hated how he wanted to talk to her and be in her presence.

He chalked it up to finally having worthy conversation partner, nothing more, nothing less.

“Mind if I join you?”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear

Vet closed the roof door behind her, dressed in more casual clothes that Spy hadn’t seen before.

Giving her a once over, he decided that it was a good look for her. Something that she would wear more often in her down time.

“Please, by all means,”

To his surprise, she took a seat right next to him, not complaining about the smoke

“No condescending comments today about how cigarettes are ruining my lungs?”

“I can’t make you stop, and this isn’t the operating room. I don’t like it, but you can do what you like,”

He considered for a moment putting it out but quickly disregarded the thought.

“What beings you up here in the night? Not pulling an all night are you?”

Vet chuckled and shook her head, opting to lean on the railing.

“No, just couldn’t sleep, how about you?”

“Wondering why I ever took this job”

“I thought it was the pay”

“No amount of money could pay me to deal with some of our colleagues”

Vet nodded and looked up at the sky

“I can relate, but if you left. Who would entertain me?”

Spy barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes

“Surely I am not your first choice of company”

Vet shrugged, lazily looking over at him

“You’re quiet, I like quiet. Let’s me clear my head and just exist for a moment”

Spy’s fingers twitched, something foreign rising in his chest before shoving it back down again

“Then you are most certainly foolish,”

“I don’t think I am, I think you’re just used to being alone,”

How could she say that so causally? This would be a borderline declaration of love where he was from. But this was just how Vet was, always upfront and truthful.

“I prefer solitude,”

“Then why are you still talking to me?”

“…you are an exception,”

Spy refused to make eye contact with her, looking out into the desert. But Vet didn’t mind, she didn’t need to see his eyes to know his sincerity.

She didn’t press him about hie comment, something he was grateful for. Instead they spent the hours in the rare quiet, basking in each others company and the stars.

Smoke was everywhere, Vet couldn’t see anything but smoke. Wheezing, she stayed close to the ground, trying to find her way out of the burning inferno.

She could hear the screams of Sniper and Scout burning. The hot cement burned her skin, embers eating away at her slowly. Vet knew the opposite Pyro was coming for her next, but she couldn’t leave fast enough. The smoke entering her lungs and weighing her down. She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep.

Vet closed her eyes and rested her head on the floor, ignoring the pain going up her cheek.

She assumed the footsteps behind her was the Pyro coming to finish her off. A hand grabbed at her, pulling her up with little hesitation.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, trying to get her to focus.

“Vet? Vet! Answer me!” that lovely French accent flooded her thoughts. But she could only moan in pain.

Spy swore and swiftly supported her weight, trying to get her out of the smoke filled barn. He had never seen her like this, so hurt and so vulnerable. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t panicking.

Spy couldn’t ignore the tightness in his stomach and the growing dread in his heart, not this time. He was able to ignore every iota of emotion towards Vet up until now, now she was badly hurt. This wasn’t how he imagined his first time holding her, but he couldn’t think on that now.

“Come on Mon Coeur, just a few steps forward”

“I can’t-“

“You can, don’t say such a thing”

He picked up his space, offering her rare words of encouragement while he navigated their escape. Heavy was able to hunt down the Pyro while Medic treated Vet. Spy watched on, making sure the wounds healed.

Whether she knew it or not, Spy dedicated himself to her safety from then on. Of course, she could still Respawn, but he would rather see her unharmed rather than see her suffer from the hands of combat. This was how he showed his dedication and loyalty, and Vet knew it. It was something understood between the both of them.

“Out late again?”

Spy heard the door of the roof shut, a sound that brought him comfort now.

“The stars require my company Mon Coeur,”

“The stars aren’t the only ones”

Vet took her usual spot next to him, just a few inches of space between the two.

Spy put out the cigarette he had lit just moments before, waving the smoke away quickly before it could reach Vet.

Vet didn’t say anything about it, she just smiled.

“Are you ever gonna teach me French?”

“There is no such time to learn the complexities of my language with our occupation”

Vet hummed snd looked up at the sky, moving a little closer to him.

“That’s a shame, you speak it so beautifully,”

Spy had long given up at the suppressing the warmth in his chest that she brought him, it was his new addiction.

“Another day Mon Coeur, I promise you”

Vet nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder, the both of them looking up the stars.

The two fell into their familiar silence, they could have spoken more but they didn’t need to. Spy already knew how he felt, and Vet knew it too. She always had.

[drabbles-mc]

All Mine

Angel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon: If you are taking them, I have a request! The reader and EZ are best friends and she is close to Angel who secretly loves her. But once EZ joins the MC and the reader hangs around more, Angel gets jealous of EZ because she is hanging out with him, not knowing the reader is in love with Angel. Angel becomes distant from her but she stops by his place to talk to him because she misses him and so much possessive smut, bruises, hickeys 🥵 I love your writing and wanted to request ❤️

Warnings: language, angst, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of bodily fluids (male + female), unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I was just thinking that I need to write something for Angel soon and this request was perfect for that so thank you. Got some backstory and buildup to really get the angsty vibes going before we get to the smut. As someone who is a big fan of hickeys and the like this request really spoke to me lmao. Hope you guys enjoy!! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @helli4nthus​ @angelreyesgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​​ @yourwonkywriter​​ @sesamepancakes​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @plentyoffandoms​​ @georgiaaintnopeach​​ @twistnet​​ @amandinesblogofstuff​​ @garbinge​​ @bucky-iss-bae​​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing don’t hesitate to let me know, I’ll add you to the list!)

If there was anything that could be said about being friends with the Reyes brothers, it was that it was never boring. You’d all been friends for a long time, having gone through life together from high school on. You and EZ had been in the same grade and became best friends almost instantly, and it was difficult to be friends with EZ without also being roped into a friendship with his brother, too. Not that you minded—the three of you always managed to have a good time together.

And the friendship you had formed with Angel was pivotal when EZ was shipped off to Stockton. Never boring didn’t always mean fun. But the two of you kept each other sane throughout the whole ordeal. You’d always gotten along well, but in those years that EZ was away you and Angel really fell into a flow with each other. You were practically living over at his place. The couch always had blankets and pillows on it for you just in case you stopped in and stayed the night, which happened more and more frequently as time went on, especially on nights after you took the time to go visit EZ. You wondered why Angel didn’t go as often, but you knew better than to pull at those strings. Even though you knew a lot about the Reyes brothers and their family, you were also aware that there were a lot of things that you weren’t privy to, and you respected that.

You’d gotten good at patching Angel up, physically and emotionally. Whether he was coming home busted up from whatever was happening with the club, or you came over to find him a drunken emotional mess because of what life had put him through, you had slowly but surely figured out how to help him through it. Your first-aid skills improved a lot in the years that EZ was away.

And, somewhere along the way, you’d fallen in love with Angel in the mess of it all. There wasn’t an exact moment where you could pinpoint that it happened. But spending all that time together, getting each other through the rough patches and celebrating together in the good times, really carved out a space in your heart that was reserved just for Angel Reyes. You kept that to yourself, though. You knew that if he felt the same way at all, he would’ve said something or made a move of some kind. It stung sometimes, but you knew that having him in your life as a best friend was preferable to not having him at all.

“He’s coming home next week,” he said, trying to ignore the pain of you cleaning out a cut he’d gotten above his eyebrow.

You nodded, trying to keep your excitement levels down, “I know,” you leaned back to get a better look at his whole face, “How are you feeling about that?”

He nodded, “’S better than him staying in fuckin’ prison.”

You chuckled, “That’s true,” you paused, knowing that there was a lot more going through his mind about it, “You talk to the club about everything?”

He cringed as you swabbed the gash with medical alcohol, “Yea.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly, “You fuckin’ know,” he let you cup his chin to hold his head still as you pressed a bandage onto his cut, “He’s meant for more than this shit. I don’t get why he wants to come back to Santo Padre at all, let alone get tied down with the fuckin’ club.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, “It seems to work well for you.”

He finally looked you in the eyes, “Don’t say that like EZ and I are capable of the same things, querida. You’re smarter than that.”

You sighed, leaning back and resting your hands in your lap, “Your cut should be fine. If it starts oozing anything you can sue me for malpractice,” you let the EZ topic drop, knowing it was a bit of an exposed nerve and probably would be for some time.

He chuckled, “Thanks. I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” he stood up, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to pull something together for dinner.

The days dragged on as you waited for EZ to come home. Once there was a definitive end-date to his stint in Stockton, time seemed to move slower. You’d been spending more time around the clubhouse in general, but you knew that if both Angel and EZ were going to get involved with the club, you were going to need to get comfortable with all of it. You knew that you weren’t going to get to be in the know about everything, but you didn’t want to be a stranger either, or just “that girl who is always hanging out with the Reyes brothers”. The guys really didn’t seem to mind. You all got along well enough, and having the endorsement of being a close friend of Angel’s certainly didn’t hurt. It was a relief, and you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to know that you had a team of backup if something ever got that bad. Angel would go to the end of the earth for you, but having a small army never hurt.

You’d been cautiously optimistic about what life was going to be like when EZ was back home again. You loved him and you missed him, but you knew that he wasn’t going to be the same exact person coming back that he was when he went away. No one comes out after that much time the same. But in all of your visits, you could feel that he was still EZ in all the ways that mattered. He was just going to need time to adjust, to figure things out, to get his feet back underneath him. And that was exactly what you were there for.

He fell into things rather easily with the club. You knew that Angel was still conflicted about it, but there was no going back on it now. EZ was officially a prospect and Angel was officially his sponsor. No amount of deep sighs and eye rolls was going to undo that. The club was accepting of him, but they were still vetting him thoroughly. You couldn’t necessarily blame them, but you knew who EZ was and it made you a little biased.

EZ was open with you about what he was going through, and you were glad that the two of you hadn’t lost that over the years. He needed some consistency, some kind of anchor in the midst of all of the chaos, which was a role that you were more than happy to fill.

Late nights at Angel’s apartment started to give way to late nights at EZ’s trailer. You still saw the both of them a lot, one of the benefits of hanging out at the clubhouse whenever you could. But you knew that EZ needed some extra one-one-one time and you weren’t going to rob him of that because you had gone and let yourself fall in love with his brother.

You figured that Angel would be glad that EZ had someone in his corner. You knew that things were a little tense between them sometimes because of the club and you didn’t have any of that baggage to carry. You assumed that Angel would be happy to know that his little brother was being cared for by someone who really knew him and gave a shit about him. But it didn’t really feel that way.

EZ was on the opposite side of the bar from you, stacking the last few cases of beer that had gotten delivered that day. The two of you were laughing as you told him about some of the stupidity that was going on at your job. The laughter was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see Angel standing there, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Pres needs you in Templo for a few minutes, Prospect.”

EZ nodded, wiping his hands off on his jeans, “Alright,” he walked around to the other side of the bar, giving your shoulder a nudge as he walked past you, “Don’t let anyone rob the joint while I’m in there.”

You laughed and shoved him towards the sliding glass door, “Hope they’re not kicking you out.” Despite the fact that EZ was making his way to the room, Angel lingered back for a moment. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something to you, “All good?”

He shrugged, nodding, “All good,” the expression on his face said otherwise but you didn’t get to push it as he turned and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

You were still there when the meeting was over, not that it took very long. Everyone dispersed in their own directions. Angel flagged his brother down, saying something quietly into his ear, eyes only darting over to you for a moment before he clapped EZ on the back and walked out of the clubhouse without coming over to say anything to you. EZ walked over, unaware of everything you were noticing and feeling.

He plopped down on the stool next to you, “Movie night?”

You nodded, smiling, “Absolutely.”

About halfway through the movie your mind was somewhere else entirely. Before you were able to censor yourself, you blurted out, “Is Angel mad at me?”

EZ looked over at you, clearly confused. He paused the movie, “Mad at you?”

You nodded, “Yea. He’s barely been talking to me the past couple of weeks and when he does it just feels…different.”

EZ shrugged, “If he is, he hasn’t said anything to me. I doubt it’s that, though. He’s been stressed with all the shit going on with the club lately. He might just accidentally be taking it out on you.”

You gnawed at the inside of your lip, wanting to believe him but not quite sure that you did, “Yea, probably.”

The next few days went by and it was more of the same. You felt like you were trying to drag a conversation out of Angel and he was coming up with excuse after excuse to dodge you. You tried not to let it get to you, but it was difficult. After everything, he was icing you out. And even despite that, your heart still sped up every time you saw him, hoping that he would walk over and things would go back to how they’d been for the last few years.

So you found yourself outside the door to Angel’s house. You knocked on the door for the first time in years—you never used to feel like you had to. But now everything felt off and you didn’t feel quite as welcome as you did before.

A few moments later you heard a scuffling from the other side of the door before it opened. Angel was in his jeans and a tank top, hair a mess, and your heart skipped a couple beats in your chest. You cleared your throat, “Can I come in?”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as he moved to the side so you could walk inside. You toed off your shoes and part of you wanted to plop down on the couch the same way you had so many times before, but you fought the urge. You did notice, though, that there was still the small pile of blankets and pillows taking up one end of the couch. It gave you a small sliver of hope.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked, standing in front of you in the middle of his living room.

“I just came over to talk…to see how you’re doing.”

“Oh?” he scoffed, shaking his head, “No pressing plans with Boy Scout tonight?”

“What’s your fucking problem?” your words were angry but the look in your eyes was anything but—everything just hurt.

“You just use me to pass the time till he got back out?” he looked like he was on the brink of tears, “Just come over here to fill the Reyes void until the Golden Boy was back?”

“Angel, what are you talking about?”

“You! Us!” he snapped. The word us hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t force out any words, so Angel continued, “You spend all this time comin’ over here, making me think that you actually give a shit about me, makin’ me fa—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “Then you just fucking drop me. It’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

“Angel,” there was a slight tremor to your voice, “your brother just got out of prison. Figured he might need a little extra support for a while. Why is that putting such a bug up your ass?” you saw him go to say something but you held your hand up to stop him, “And just so we’re painting the full fucking picture here—you’ve been dodging me. Every time I try to talk to you, you suddenly have something else to do, somewhere else to be. This is the first real conversation we’ve had in weeks and it’s only happening because I came banging on your fucking door,” you wiped away tears that you hadn’t even felt before that moment, “Sorry you haven’t gotten my undivided attention, but that’s just life sometimes, Angel. And, fuck,” you shook your head, “even though you’ve been acting like a real dick lately, I’ve still missed you.”

“I’m so fucking sick of coming in second place, Y/N.”

You stepped to him, looking up at him, “You’re not in second place. There are no places. That’s all up here,” you reached up and pressed the pad of your finger to his temple.

He gently placed his hand over yours, completely enveloping it, “I can’t handle you getting sick of me, forgetting about me,” his eyes met yours, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

You felt a lump forming in the back of your throat, “Then why are you shutting me out?”

He shook his head slightly, hand still clasping yours, “Easier leaving than getting left.”

“I was never leaving you, Angel,” your voice was barely a whisper, “And I’m not going to.”

He closed his eyes, leaning down so his forehead against yours. He took a deep, unsteady breath, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you.”

You smiled, bringing your other hand up so you were cupping both sides of his face as you pulled back a little, “You’ve got a really shitty way of showing it.”

He laughed, shaking his head before pressing a kiss against your palm, “Will you let me show it in a better way?”

Your heart was pounding inside your chest as you nodded. He instantly pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. One hand fell to the small of your back while the other rested on the back of your neck, keeping you as close to him as he could. Your knees felt weak as you melted into him.

He pressed the tips of his fingers harder into the back of your neck and you could feel the neediness seeping from his body into yours. You draped your arms over his shoulders, getting lost in the feeling of the way his lips moved in-sync with yours. A soft moan slipped out as he bit down on your lip.

He pulled his lips away from yours, letting you both catch your breath. He still had you wrapped up in his arms and you smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his jawline, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you too.”

With a quiet laugh he scooped you up off the floor, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. With what seemed like no effort at all, he whisked you down the hall to his bedroom. You laughed as he let you drop a few inches from his arms onto the mattress, a smile on his face as he situated himself between your legs, hovering over your torso with his lips hardly an inch from yours.

“You mean it?” you asked in a whisper as you reached up and pushed his hair back out of his face.

“Mean what?”

“That you’ve been falling in love with me.”

He nodded, his voice as soft as yours, “Every word,” he leaned down and kissed your temple before bringing his lips right next to your ear, “I just wanna make you mine.”

Your body trembled at the sound of his words. You let your eyes drift shut as what he said washed over you. “Do it,” your voice was hardly audible, “Make me yours.”

You felt him hum in approval, the vibrations against your neck sending a chill through your body. He attached his lips to yours, cupping one side of your face in his hand. You hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you, and you felt him smile into your kiss. He pressed his lips hard against yours for a moment before he slid them down to your neck. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your hips as he bit down onto your neck. You moaned as he sucked on the sensitive skin there. He brought his lips to the other side of your neck to do the same thing as he pushed your hips down to the bed, effectively unhooking your legs as his hands started to undo the button and zipper of your jeans.

He pulled your jeans down, tossing them off to the side before hopping off the bed just long enough to undo his belt and push his jeans down to the floor. Once the denim pooled at his ankles he stepped out of them and was right back on top of you again, pulling your shirt off over your head as you reached and did the same to him.

He kissed you as his hands roamed all over your body, touching every exposed inch, every single curve. His tongue met yours as he gripped tight onto your hips. You moaned as he began to grind against you. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as he pulled out of your kiss, sucking lightly on your bottom lip as he did.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he kissed you lightly on the lips as his fingers looped around the waistband of your underwear, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He left a long trail of kisses and love-bites down your chest, stomach, and thighs. He draped your legs over his shoulders and you let out a shaky breath as he grazed his teeth along the inside of your thigh, biting down ever-so lightly before moving his lips between your legs. A moan fell from your lips the second he pressed his mouth against you, your hands instantly tangling themselves in his hair. You felt the vibrations against you as he chuckled at how quickly you became so needy. Every single thing he did felt perfect. The sound of you moaning his name filled the house as his tongue continued to explore every part of you.

He pulled his lips away from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He smiled up at you as he slowly slid his fingers into you, turning your whimper into a moan. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders, nails setting into his skin as you cursed under your breath. He kept his eyes on you as he slowly began to pump his fingers in and out of you, reveling in the fact that he was the one marking you up and putting that look of pure bliss onto your face.

You arched your back slightly when you felt him bite down onto your thigh, “Fuck, Angel, don’t stop.”

His voice was raspy, “You gonna cum for me, querida?”

“Y-yes,” you almost didn’t get the word out as you felt his mouth begin to work along with his fingers. Your legs tightened around his head, thighs clenching as you got closer to your orgasm, “Fuck, Angel,” you cried as you came.

He slid up to you, a satisfied smirk on his face. Your fingers trailed through his beard, feeling your wetness as he leaned in to kiss you. You could taste yourself off of his lips and tongue and you were about to get lost in that sensation alone until you felt him pressing against your entrance. You rested your hands on his hips and pulled him closer to you, both of you moaning as he slowly slid into you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, soaking up how he felt inside you.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered as he slowly started to move his hips, “You’re so perfect for me.”

You knew there was no way to be closer to him than you were, but you wished that there was. You wrapped your legs around him again and cupped his face so you could kiss him as he thrust into you. He braced his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned into you. you slid your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down against you as you sank your teeth into the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

You heard him curse and you smiled as you placed a kiss on top of the bitemark, “You’re mine now, too, Angel.”

He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eyes, “Say that again.”

You gently traced the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip, “You’re mine, Angel Reyes.”

His lips crashed into yours as he picked up his speed. He couldn’t get enough of you, hands grabbing at whatever they could to try and keep you closer to him. You felt his rhythm start to falter—he gripped tightly onto your hips as he thrust hard into you a few more times before quickly pulling out of you before he came.

He collapsed onto your chest with a sigh. You let out a tired laugh as you lazily trailed your fingers through his hair, both of you attempting to catch your breath and get your hearts down to a reasonable speed. You could feel the reverberations of his chest against yours and in that moment you were sure that there no better feeling in the world. His fingers lightly traced over your skin and all you could think about was the fact that his touch felt like home. You let your eyes drift shut for a few moments as he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses.

He shifted so he was laying on his side next to you, staring at you with a starry look in his eyes. You smiled over at him, rolling onto your side as well, “What’re you thinking?”

He smiled, kissing you gently on the lips, “That I love you.”

You felt your face get hot as you touched your forehead to his, “Yea? Good. ‘Cause I love you too.”

He laughed as he rolled and pulled you with him so that you were laying on top of him, your chest pressed against his, “No going back on that now, you know.”

You let your fingers dance down the side of his face, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You���ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.