#he's all “do you only give your dog that kibble. is it always dry. i give her all kinds of different things���

[mirainawen]

"i only feed my dog an all raw diet, just the kind of stuff they'd eat in the wild. anyway, i put fried egg and cottage cheese on top of your dog's food for the same-"

bro where they getting them skillets and fermentation processes in the wild

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Almost to the holiday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“Well,” Ransom stops in the doorway as you stand on the tile, Ernie at your heels, “grab a bowl for the damn dog.”

You look at him but say nothing. Ernie isn’t mean without reason so you hardly feel bad for him. He must’ve done something really bad to make the giant sweetheart into such a beast.

You go to the counter and reach to the cupboard. He doesn’t offer any direction as you find only glasses and mugs inside. You move to the next; dry goods and cans. You shift back the other way and pop open another door; there’s a stack of bowls inside. A bit small but it’ll have to do.

As you clasp the edge of the bowl, you feel a sudden presence behind you. Before you can react, Ransom is against you, his arms hooking under yours as he cups your tits in his hands. He rocks with you as Ernie snarls.

“Get the dog to shut up,” he squeezes. “Or I’ll feed it bleach.”

You call Ernie’s name. He gives one last rumble but quiets. You set the bowl on the counter as Ransom leans into you, nuzzling your head as he fondles you. You hope he can’t feel your heart pounding.

“Mmm, they feel just as nice as they look. Why don’t you slip that sweater off so I can get a taste,” he pushes you against the counter, “you give that fuzzy-lipped bastard the good stuff–”

“Goddamnit,” Andy’s hiss cuts through the tension. Ransom sighs onto your hair, giving a tweak through the wool before reluctantly parting, “keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” Ransom spins and stomps his foot, “what are we even waiting for? We do all this–” He gestures with his hand, “and you’re bossing me around like a child.”

“You are,” Andy accuses as he approaches and puts down the bag of kibble on the counter, “I salvaged what I can,” he says to you directly.

“Um, thank you,” you swallow. He smiles before he faces the other man again, “we haven’t even opened our presents.”

Ransom narrows his eyes as his cheek ticks. He arches a brow and shrugs, “fine. So why don’t we get it over with?”

“Breakfast first,” Andy insists. “It’s tradition.”

“Who’s fucking tradition?”

“They have to start somewhere, don’t they?” Andy challenges. 

You frown. Tradition. You really hope you don’t have time to build any of those.

“Honey, you stay, help me with breakfast,” Andy turns his back on Ransom, “the other two can get the table ready…” he pauses and looks over his shoulder, “you can handle that, can’t you?”

Ransom’s nostrils flare and he bares his teeth. He kind of reminds you of Ernie when he does that. The dog tilts his head curiously as he watches the scene, ignorant of the words but sensing the vibes.

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” Ransom growls. “Have fun playing fucking house.”

He storms off, his shoulder hitting the door frame in his anger and drawing a grunt from him. You flinch and bring your hands up to wring. Andy tuts and faces the counter, glancing over at you.

“Are you alright, honey?” He asks, letting his hand fingers flutter to the edge of your cuff.

“Yeah,” you answer smally. That’s what he wants. For you to be helpless, to need him. And you do, just not the way he intends. “He… he isn’t nice like you.”

The corners of his lips curve just a little as his eyes search you, “you think so?”

You nod and slide the bowl off the counter, “I’m going to feed Ernie.”

“Alright,” he relents and takes a step back, “uh, yeah, he’s probably starving.”

You move around Andy and dip the bowl into the bag of kibble. He clears his throat and goes to work, pulling down ingredients. Nothing fancy. He sets a box of pancake batter as he pulls the waffle maker away from the wall. Your stomach growls loudly and Andy grins in your direction.

“You too, huh?”

You smile over the bowl of kibble in your hands, “a little, yeah.” You turn to Ernie as he sniffs the air and drools. You go to him and bend your knees to put the bowl on the floor. You know he’s watching. Good, he’s just as simple as the others.

��

You’re the only one who seems interested in the meal. Only because it gives you something to focus on to keep your imagination from straying too far. Of course, you’re not as stupid as these men think. You know all too well their intent. Yet there efforts continue to confound you.

You offer to clean up. Another excuse to keep yourself busy. Away from them. Andy insists that he does that task and sends you off the other two to the front room. You’re less than eager to walk between them as they get closer and closer, nearly squishing you as you reach your destination.

You flit away from them and claim a spot in the lone armchair. Ernie follows and sits at your feet. He keeps his head up, panting as he watches the men and you avoid looking at them altogether. Lloyd strolls along the mantle and sucks his teeth as Ransom sits on the extension of the sectional.

“Fucking lame…” Lloyd mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Ransom agrees, the clink of dishes sounding from the kitchen.

You hate to admit it so you won’t, but they’re right. 

Your eyes drift along and settle on the tree. There are a slew of wrapped gifts underneath. They weren’t there the day before.

The awkward silence doesn’t last long as Andy emerges. He looks around, tucking his hands in his pockets as he takes in the room. He’s not in his typical suit. You didn’t take time to notice before but he looks cozy. He wears a blue sweater and a pair of jeans a shade darker. It makes him look softer than usual.

You check the other men. They’re not very festive. They wear what you can only assume is their usual look. Lloyd in a tight black tee which does little to conceal the buds of his nipples. Your gaze wants to fixate there but you resist that odd temptation. He’s paired the dark top with a pair of pine striped ankle pants and velvet loafers. You call it douche formal. The customers who dress like that usually don’t even understand how to check the website.

Then Ransom. Not too dissimilar to Andy but still himself. An ivory sweater with brown pants, a locket peeking out below his collar from the slim gold chain around his neck. It screams rich prick trying too hard to look like he’s not trying.

The one thing these men have in common is their ignorance. They don’t know, they never considered that you can read them. You spent years in retail, you know people. A little more than you like. They took your demeanour as innocent and naive, they don’t consider it as defensive.

“Alright, finally, let’s open some presents,” Andy claps his hands together.

“Before we start,” Lloyd leans beside the mantle, “I have a question?”

Andy looks at him, waiting.

“Shouldn't you be doing this with your family–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andy snaps but stops himself, showing his palm, “that’s not for you to worry about.”

“I’m looking out for you–”

“I know what you’re doing,” Andy points at him.

Lloyd snickers.

“I’d like to make a suggestion,” Ransom stands, Ernie tense as he does. They look at each other. “Can we put the dog away?

All three men look at Ernie. You look back at them as you reach to pet the dog’s broad head.

“He’s not hurting anyone,” you plead.

“Not yet,” Ransom scoffs.

“Look, pussy cat, you’re lucky that thing’s even here.”

You want to scowl and bite back. They knew you had a dog when they took you. You mentioned him several times. It’s not exactly your fault they didn’t factor him into the equation.

“We don’t want him to get worked up,” Andy assuages, “why don’t you take him to your room for now? We wouldn’t want him to ruin any of your gifts.”

“He won’t,” you argue, not quick enough to stop yourself. “He’s trained.

“I know, honey, but just for a little. He can come back out later.”

“Yeah, or I can drive him out to the highway,” Lloyd snorts.

You furrow your brow at him. He snickers as your anger amuses him. You quickly wipe it away. You can’t lose your cool yet. You slowly get up, stepping over Ernie and exposing a bit too much thigh. You call the dog’s name but he doesn’t move. He knows something’s wrong.

You bend and grab his collar, “come on, buddy, please.”

At first he doesn’t budge but relents as you coax him with quiet whispers. He lets you lead him out, dragging his large paws with your less than urgent pace. You get to the open bedroom and look inside.

“Sorry, Ern,” you say as you nudge him ahead, “it’ll be okay, I promise. Mama take care of you.”

He goes into the room and turns to stare back at you with his doe eyes. You want to melt into a puddle. He’s so cute and sweet. He doesn’t deserve all this. If it was just you, you’d fight, but you have to worry about him. 

You shut the door and go back to the living room. The men seem anxious as you enter. Ransom pinches the locket around his neck between his fingers, Andy smooths the front of his sweater with his large hand, and Lloyd digs his heel into the floor as he picks his fingernail.

“Alright,” Andy exhales as he faces you, “so, honey, you start.”

You blink at him and cross your arms. You don’t know what he means. You glance around, between each of them.

“Open a gift,” Andy steps back and gestures to the tree, “they’re all for you.”

Your stomach churns and your heart flips. Something about this is off. Not just that you’ve been abducted or this weird house with locks on the doors and deafening walls. More than these men and their incessant leers. There’s more than a dozen presents, for you alone, but why?

“Me?” You pull your arms apart and force them down to your sides, clutching the weave of the sweater dress.

“Go on,” Lloyd encourages with a wink.

You restrain yourself as best you can. Fear courses through you as you try to unravel their riddle. What are they up to? They’re watching you like wolves, prowling, ready to pounce, so why don’t they?

You tiptoe forward and as you near Andy, he stays exactly where he is. You brush against him and feel his breath fan over you. You pass Ransom as he once more sits on the foot of the sectional. 

You stop before the tree and consider the array of gifts; boxes, bags, and wrapped bundles. It’s the sort of haul any child dreams of. You remember the Christmas Eves you lay awake sleepless hoping for just this. Waking to only a new pair of socks and a couple toiletries from the group home. You didn’t often get what you wanted, but you could get by with what you needed.

You bend your knees, the hem of the sweater rising up your thighs as you reach for a small box. You stand and turn to the men, staring down at the red box with a gold bow on top. You gulp and peek up at them. They all just watch. 

You wiggle the lid until it pops off. You reveal a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They’re pretty. Probably real but you don’t have the eye to tell. You peer up again, confused. It’s actually a very nice gift.

“Who’s it from?” Andy asks.

You flinch and check the tag. You should’ve done that first. You pull it straight as it hides under the tail of the bow, “Ransom,” you read.

“Ha!” He claps his hands, together then on his knees, “fuck yeah.”

“Huh?” You utter dumbly.

“Shit,” Lloyd mutters and Andy lets his disappointment flow out heavily.

“What…” you can’t finish the question.

“Pretty nice gift, huh?” Ransom taunts, “so, uh, what’s my gift, sweetheart?”

You grimace and examine the wall behind him, “I don’t… have anything…”

“Actually,” he interjects, “I think you do. Why don’t you pop those on, then pop your tits out?”

You gape at him. He bites his lip as you stand dumbfounded and humiliated. Lloyd chuckles and Andy growls as he paces, sitting in the armchair.

“I don’t…”

“It’s an exchange, not free for all, you got yours. I get mine,” he tilts his head, “so put those on and let me fuck your tits.”

You close your mouth. You’re not surprised but you’re not ready either. You didn’t expect them to hold out forever but you need more time. The problem is they’re not playing by your schedule, you have to adjust to yours. That means, you’ll be working from behind.

“I’m waiting,” Ransom huffs, “you know, you’re being pretty ungrateful there, sweetheart.”

Andy plants his elbow on the armrest as you look at him, “do it.”

“But…” you pout, “you said…”

“He gave you a gift,” Andy said. “He won’t hurt you. I’m here.”

You nearly drop the box. What does he mean he won’t hurt you? You don’t want to do that.

Well…

You don’t have a choice. As rotten as it is, it will only be worse if you refuse. You lower your chin and nod. You turn to set the box down on the small table just beside the couch, too close to Ransom. He snickers as you hear his zipper whisper down. Oh god.

You pull out your plain gold hoops and replace them with the teardrop pearls. You feel them dangle between your fingertips and raise your head. Worse than what you’re about to do is the audience. This isn’t just you being violated, this is that violation being witnessed.

You walk along the sectional and Ransom catches your wrist, pulling you forward impatiently. He turns you to face him. Your eyes widen as you try not to look lower than you need to. His cock bobs at the edge of your vision.

“Take this off,” he touches the hem of the dress.

You spread your sweaty palms over the wool. Slowly, you tug it upwards. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as you reveal your nakedness to the room. You stand only in the knee highs and panties.

“Damn,” Lloyd clucks, “an ass on this one.”

Andy doesn’t comment, he only hums as the chair creaks under his weight.

“Get down,” he orders.

You hold your breath and obey. You get to your knees as Ransom plays with himself. You can’t look him in the face and you definitely don’t want to look down. You stare instead at his sweater.

“Push your tits together,” he demands.

Again, you listen. It’s like you’re in a trance. The room is fuzzy and your body is hollow. He laughs again and taps his tip against your tits.

“Fuck, those are some nice tits,” he remarks, grabbing your shoulder to urge your closer.

He slips his dick between your cleavage. His throbbing head pokes up above the swell of flesh. He dips down and back up, rocking you by your shoulder as he guides you. You move with him, fighting back the tide of repulsion.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “come on and give it a kiss, sweetheart.”

You flinch. He squeezes your shoulder. A warning. You bend your head and kiss his tip as it once more pokes above your cleavage. He groans and his hand moves to cover one of yours, making you grope yourself tighter.

“Fuck,” he rasp, “you know what…” he turns to Andy, reminding you of the others, of them watching you, “I think I get it now.” He winks at you as you fuck his length with your tits, “good fucking choice, Barber.”

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Amara Day 4

The lil ladies have been struggling because Jaxxine so BADLY wants to be best friends with Amara, but Amara is still uncomfortable with being close to others. It's actually kinda funny to watch because Jaxxi will do her lil play stretch and squeak in front of Amara and Amara will get really happy for a second, all soft ears and wiggly tail, before she remembers to be scared. She's been hanging out on the bed with all of us pretty consistently, although she still tends to slide under the bed when she gets overstimulated.

We've officially put in an order for her ID tags, safety patches, and fieldtrip harness for the end of the month (bless Chewy's autoship for the convenience of just tossing in an extra thing here and there to your next shipment so you don't have to keep thinking about it)

She's got Do Not Pet patches, a leather utility harness, a leather collar, and ID tags with our info, her name, and the quote "Scared, not Scary". I found a tag that's shaped like a bee hive and engraved "sweet as honey" which is just so stinkin cute.

Today we've been doing a lot of careful socializing, and I know this series is about Amara, but I am just SO proud of Jaxxine and Tobi, and how they're interacting with Amara. Tobi can be kinda reactive himself, because he's always had chronic "tiny dog" anxiety, and has spent significantly more time socializing with cats than with dogs. And Jaxxi of course is an infinitely excitable lil baby gorl who has never met a friend she didn't love. In their own unique ways, their base temperaments were likely to be tough on Amara.

But much to my delight, both Tobi and Jaxxine have been so respectful of Amara's boundaries, and so firm-but-gentle about their own. Tobi has repeatedly tried to herd Amara in and out of the house for potty trips because he noticed she wasn't going on her own and he was worried. He kept running back to her, giving a lil yap, and then trotting back to the deck, only to turn back around and try again whenever she got anxious and stopped following him. Jaxxine has been so attentive to Amara's communication, and so snuggly with her whenever it's allowed. I'm so proud of my lil lovebugs and how well regulated and polite they've become. Amara has been visibly relaxing more and more each day, and despite her lingering trauma responses, she has mostly settled into a foundation of security with us.

I'm also really pleased with how resilient Amara's health seems to be. Four days into a healthy kibble, ground rabbit, and nutritional supplement milk has already started to restore a nice lustre to her fur, reduced the impact of her muscle fatigue/distressed movement, and reduced her dry nose. I'm still seeing a fair amount of scarring on the tips of her ears, but I'm hoping to start introducing her to more involved medical care and grooming this weekend. I'm thinking probably daily astringent cleansing and a carrier oil or whipped butter moisturizer massaged in via scar tissue scrungling. We have roses and crab apples, so maybe I can press some blossom oil for her. If not, I'll whip some shea.

We've got a lot left to work on, but I'm feeling very optimistic about Amara's responsiveness to care.

[dreamties]

Billy & Stu's Adventures in Puppy Care

18+ / NSFW Accounts Do Not Interact

A/n- I wrote this a few months ago...thought i'd finally share. sorta nervous about this :O

Word Count: 1858

description: Y/n spends the day as a sleepy, affection starved puppy with their favorite people.

ship: billy loomis / stu macher / reader

this is about SFW pet regression so don't be weird !! for the love of slasher movies, DONT. BE. WEIRD !!

Y/n comes home from work in the very early hours of the morning, exhausted to the bone and just wanting to curl up and sleep. They still had to shower off the day's grease and sweat, and start breakfast for everyone. Sleep would come...but not soon enough. They try to wipe the sleep out of their eyes as they head to the bathroom, they take a quick glance at their boys in the other room. Smiling at the sight of Billy and Stu cuddling into each other, Stu with his long arms wrapped around the smaller boy. They’re quick to scamper off to the bathroom, no matter how much they wanted to stay there and take in the gorgeous view of their beloveds so at peace. No matter how much they wanted to nestle their way in between them. Bask in their warmth.

Their shower is long, spending time stretching their limbs and properly grooming themselves. Lathering a sweet and calming lavender scented shampoo along their body. Taking too long under the shower head, making sure all the suds are washed off themself and none of it clings to the tub.

Next, is breakfast. They put up the hot water for coffee and tea. Put the bread in the toaster, sort through various items in the fridge, trying to find jam. Finally acquiring strawberry jam, and taking the butter out as well. They scramble eggs, and plate the food on three plastic dishes. They place everything at the table, finally heading off to their bedroom again to retrieve their boyfriends. They place gentle kisses to each of their foreheads, then shake them awake. Billy’s the first one up, pushing himself out of Stu’s grip- much to his begrudgement.

“Aww, c’mon! Just a little longer,” he whines.

They let out a tired chuckle, “You can cuddle more later, breakfasts ready.”

The three of them sit down, and begin to dig into the meal. Y/n gets up when they finally hear the kettle whistling, making everyone's morning beverage of choice. They sit back down, a hot mug of tea in their hands. They take a sip, slipping their tongue out as they accidentally burn it.

They shake it off, and give an apologetic look to Stu, “We’re out of your favorite, we’ll have to stop at the store tomorrow. You two don’t have work, right?”

Stu pouts and Billy answers, “Not today.”

They give a pleased smile, “Good. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

Both of their eyes glimmer at the news- “What did you have in mind?”

“Really? I just wanna...destress for a bit. Work was awful last night.”

They both frown. “Is it your boss again?” Billy asks.

They nod.

“Y’know, we could always-” Stu begins.

They narrowed their eyes at him, “If you suggest to kill my boss again- I swear to god, Stu!”

He raises his hands up in defense, giggling and smiling. “I surrender, I surrender.”

Billy and Y/n can’t help but smile at his antics. The three of you finally finish up, dishes in the sink, coffee filters and old tea bags in the trash.

“The two of you mind cleaning the dishes?” They yawn out, rubbing at their eyes.

Billy leans against the edge of the sink, giving them a soft look, “No problem.”

“Thank you,” they sigh, slumping into Billy. Nuzzling their head against him, aching for attention.

He smiles down at them, curious- as realization slowly dawns his face. “What do you want, pup?”

They brighten at the name, continuing to nuzzle him. He brings his hands up, one to pet through their hair, the other tracing across their neck. “You want your collar?”

A few quick nods later, and moving the three of you to the bedroom- Y/n finds themselves kneeling on the ground awaiting the collar. Stu’s rummaging through piles, trying to remember where they stored the thing- it wasn’t often that their beloved found themselves in this regressed state, so they often misplaced the gear needed to keep things exciting and safe for Y/n.

Stu finally finds it, Y/n curiously sniffs at his hands, the item looking suspiciously different than usual. He pets their hair, guiding them to kneel back on the ground. He then leans down to put it around their neck- stepping back to admire their look. They turn their head to peer at Billy, showing off the pretty, red collar in the process. In big, curly letters the top of the pendant reads Y/n . Their shared apartment address is written at the bottom along with their wonderful owners' names.

“Does our little pup like their new collar?” Billy grins down at them, scratching the bottom of their chin. “Good, good baby.”

Y/n spent most of the day following their partners around as they did chores. From napping on the kitchen floor as they did the dishes to hiding in the laundry as they attempted to clean and fold it. Once or twice they go off to do their own thing- possibly planning other murders- where they leave them alone. It’s not all bad when that occurs, they find their doggy bed- a perfect fit for their size- in the living room. They rest in it’s comforting hold till their loved ones make their way back to them. They find themselves fluctuating between their regressed state of mind and not throughout the day, it finally settles to a consistent regressed state as the day comes to a close.

Billy grabs a red ceramic dog bowl from one of the bottom cupboards- it’s tucked away neatly, covered in a worn towel to prevent it’s breakage and protect it from dust. He hands the bowl to Stu, who pours a considerable amount of dry cereal into it. He moves to set it down, and Billy lets out a not entirely gentle, “Be careful.”

Stu rolls his eyes, “I’ve got it,” and places it on the ground, next to the edge of the counter. While he does that, Billy gets out bowls for them and milk from the fridge, placing two full bowls of milk and cereal on the table.

They sit down and begin to eat, idly chatting with each other. Billy tries not to laugh too hard from something moronic his boyfriend says. Sparing odd glances at their other partner, who's got their face right up against their bowl, while they happily munch up their kibble . Billy snickers, looking away from them. They were too cute and silly for their own good.

Y/n’s the first to finish up. Instead of waiting patiently for their owners, they crawl underneath the table, finding themselves next to Billy’s chair. Unbeknownst to him.

They nudge their head against his leg, achieving nothing but a small jolt of surprise.They let out a sharp whine when he doesn’t react immediately.

Billy looks underneath the table for a brief moment, “What’re you doing down there, Y/n?”

They keep rubbing at his leg. Stu, who has just finished, looks down to see what the commotion is. “Aww, they just want some love,” he grins. “C’mere.” He pats his lap, inviting them to him.

It was awkward trying to situate themself on Stu in a way that felt comfortable and puppy-like, but had little to no feelings of how non-regressed, human them would sit. They end up lying their head on his thigh, letting out a pleased noise as he pets their head.

“What kinda manners you teaching our little pup over there?” Billy teasingly remarks. He sighs, taking in the blissed out state of his partners, and how happy Stu seemed to be as he fulfilled their smallest desires. He quickly finds his way standing next to Stu’s spot.

“Let's take this to the bedroom,” he gestures away from the table. “You’ll be more comfortable, Y/n- and you.” He points a finger at Stu.

Stu chuckles, face falling slightly, and smiling nervously at Billy. “What? What’d I do?”

He smirks at him, having fun playing around with Stu, “You gonna be a good boy, too?”

“I’m not usually?”

Billy barks out a laugh, “You’re a fucking nuiscance.” It’s not said with malice, but an odd sense of affection. He glances down at Stu’s lap, noticing Y/n’s eyes drooping shut. “Looks like our baby’s getting tired.”

They perk up at the name, wide eyes staring up at Billy. The two boys chuckle. “Gonna carry em, okay?” Stu mentions, petting down their hair once more. They nuzzle against him at the idea. “You like that, huh?”

Eventually, Stu picks Y/n up, cradling them in his arms. He places them safely on the bed- though it takes as a second as they struggle with him, trying to stay wrapped in his nice, warm embrace. They whine as they’re finally left on the bed by themselves- Billy and Stu changing into proper bedroom attire. Billy’s in boxers and a white tee- while Stu has chosen quite a minimalistic approach. Boxers only. They try not to pay mind to Y/n’s whining too much, as they finally stop- dejectedly curling up on the mattress.

Stu’s quick to join them, as Billy lets out a sigh- “C’mere, baby.” They hurriedly uncurl themselves and kneel on the edge of the bed- looking up expectantly.

He places a small kiss on the top of their head, moving his hands slowly across their body- stopping at the edge of their top. He peels their clothes off, with ease and if practiced, till it’s nothing but bare skin. They press into him, thankful for his help. He kisses them again, and holds his hand against their head in a gentle manner. Hugging them close to himself. “It’s okay, love.”

Stu comes from behind pulling the two of you down with him. Y/n lets out a surprised squeak along with a series of giggles. They find themselves laying against his chest, while Billy’s over both of them, trying not to accidentally hurt Y/n. It’s warm in the middle of it, and they feel protected. Stu’s got an arm lazily playing with Billy’s hair, and the other hung around Y/n’s shoulders.

The three of them don’t stay in the position long. Comfortable? Yes. But no one, even their little pup, would want to stay the whole night like this. They needed- and deserved- a proper night of sleep. Especially after their long and tiring day of work, and having to deal with their hardass of a boss. (If he ended up missing or found dead within the following days...well, he had it coming.)

Y/n’s practically asleep when they try moving themselves around. They tuck their little puppy in first, peppering them with kisses and little reassurances. Then Stu climbs under, after sharing a quiet kiss with his boyfriend. Billy’s the last to get in- both boys curling their bodies in a way that allowed their pup to safely cocoon themselves in the middle. Their small bundle of love secured in their grasp. Billy whispers small “I love you”s, as sleep finally takes them in.

[klaus-is-the-real-number-1]

HCs for Five adopting a senior dog rather than a puppy:

he’d go into the shelter after seeing the puppies in the window but when they take him round the back to meet them he’d see a really sad looking senior dog with a white face and droopy eyes

“what about that one” he’d say, pointing to the kennel

“oh, he’s been here a while, his owners surrendered him because he got too old, he’s 11”

straight away five would be looking at this poor senior dog and couldn’t bare the thought of him spending his last years in a cage

“i’ll have him.”

they’d probably tell him he needs a parent or guardian to get the dog, who is probably called like buster or something, so he would go get klaus

klaus would be down straight away no questions asked, signs the paperwork the bona your uncle, five has buster, the 11 year old golden retriever

straight away as he tries to walk him home he realises he can’t go that fast, so five slows his fast paced walking down to accommodate buster, letting him take his time

five deffo has money on him at all times, don’t know where he gets it but he just does

first stop is the pet store, still with klaus, and five walks round, picking out the most comfy looking bed, soft toys and a few squeaky ones and food

he’d also go to the grocery store and send klaus in to get some fresh food for buster because an old mans gotta eat well

so finally after the slowest walk five had ever done they make it back to the academy slowly walking up the steps and into the main place

Five would let him off his lead and he’d have a little sniff around but never drift too far from Five, always coming back or looking back at him

Five would set up his bedroom as a little safe haven for buster, setting up the bed all nice with the toys but they didn’t interest buster, he was only interested in five, placing his head in fives lap or just wanting to be near him

and five was okay with that

at first five wasn’t really sure how much to feed him, throwing in a bit of kibble and fresh meat

he decided then he was gonna do his research and become the best senior dog owner ever

the first night five got into bed and watched as buster ignored the premium dog bed and just laid on the floor next to fives bed

and guilt fills five because buster is just on the hard wood floor

so after a few minutes he pats his bed and calls buster over who straight away jumps up and curls up next to five

who then just covers buster with his bed sheets and falls asleep

after that buster adored Five, not really fussing over the others but would always take the attention

but the first person he would go to when he walked into a room was Five

the first time five tried to wash buster would be a mess

hair everywhere, water flooding out the bath, everything covered in dog shampoo, klaus crying (probably)

and then they’d have to call allison for help who would solve the situation right away and help hair dry him

Everyday without fail five would take him out for a walk, a very slow walk, and a lot of people would probably want to talk to five upon seeing a young boy with such an old dog

and five would just have to get used to it and become less hostile

he’d 100% call buster “old timer” “buddy” “old man” but would always get caught babying him as well

but as soon as he got caught he’d stop

he’d be there like “i love you my beautiful baby my baby boy who’s my boy”

always cuddling or touching each other

five would be found often just lying on the floor next to buster just sleeping or cuddling

always giving him little kisses even if he has stinky old dog breath

when he starts getting slower five buys him a wagon and rolls him round town

and he’d give his best friend the best last years of his life

[sourwormsaresour]

Headcanons on the type of pets La Squadra would own?

Holy shit this was too fun to make, especially with giving the pets names.

Sorbet and Gelato have their own Crusty-White-Dog™ that's a Maltese Terrier named Armani. The dog hates and barks nonstop at everything deemed threatening (aka, everyone and particularly the rest of La Squadra) and yet those two will claim she's the sweetest thing in the world. True to her name, they deck her with Armani branded clothes, either specially made dog fashion or they had a DIY done to make it look like an Armani outfit- down to the bright pink leash she wears dripping in the Armani logo. She eats the finest dry kibble and only drinks Ferrarelle Sparkling water; she will know the difference if you switch it up. She's the epitome of "I demand pets but only do so with your eyes" to everyone. Despite loving Sorbet and Gelato the most, she demands all their attention on her and she will cockblock those two if she catches them being affectionate to each other instead. Despite having a nice bed, she always sleeps between the two of them and will whimper if they kick her out of the bedroom so they can get intimate. Those tear-stained eyes always look like they've seen everything, despite being constantly babied by her owners. If Armani could, she would kill everyone.

Risotto, the biggest man in Vento Aureo, has a little Syrian hamster he called Ace. He thought that a pet with a shorter lifespan would allow him the perfect balance of having a pet but not being very attached to it compared to pets that live longer- he was wrong. If you ever come into Risotto's office as he worked, either you are greeted with Ace running around in his green hamster ball, walking around Risotto's desk as he worked, or running in the hamster wheel behind the desk. Ace's tank is an old Aquarium tank Pesci gave to Risotto that is now full of soft bedding, toys, and Risotto frequently cleans it. There are days where Risotto just spends hours watching his hamster walk around the room, eating little treats, and staring at Risotto with its beady eyes. It's gotten to the point where you can't walk into Risotto's office without noticing a lone sunflower seed or piece of bedding on the ground that Risotto didn't notice until you pointed it out. Every time Ace passes from old age, Risotto buys a new Syrian hamster and calls that one Ace. He hasn't kept track of how many hamsters that came and went so far, but treated every one of them as if they were the first Ace. He takes pictures of Ace doing the most relatively boring things and will share them with his members.

Illuso got a Sulphur-crested cockatoo named Scapino as a joke. He thought they didn’t require much attention but later felt bad when he found out that they need specific proper care. He proceeds to care for it as if it was his child. Illuso taught his bird how to speak and swear at people, specifically swearing at Formaggio and occasionally at Ghiaccio. This man will shower his bird with the best treats (expensive nuts, dried fruit, chicken bones) and has a special bar for it to perch on when they're in the shower together. This bird has free reign all over Illuso's place and wears a little anklet thing to verify that it has an owner should it escape. The two of them have spa days together and it’s one of the most wholesome things in the world to witness. Scapino will actually join Illuso on missions too, staying in the mirror world the whole time, and it provides him some comfort from his social anxiety. Sometimes Scapino sits on his shoulder as he walks. Illuso trained it to stay and hide in the mirror world so that it wouldn’t fly away or blow his cover when he’s working. But the bird will fly around in there and will watch anyone that’s getting murked in front of him with no remorse and commenting on it too. Imagine you’re dying in the mirror world and your last moment is this fucking bird looming over you going “night night, motherfucker”. JESUS CHRIST. 

Prosciutto used to be on the whole “pets are unnecessary” train but he had considered looking at breeders for the best quality dog. And then one rainy day he found an abandoned Portuguese Water Dog puppy in an alleyway and at Pesci’s insistence took it in. Turns out the puppy was bought by a rich family for their kid but then abandoned when the kid wasn't interested in it anymore. Prosciutto insisted that the dog was going to stay for one night and then sent to the pound first thing in the morning. It's been years now and the little dog is now a big fluffy good boy named Pon Pon. The second biggest chunk of Prosciutto's paycheck is for this dog; I'm talking grooming services with paw-ticures, an all-organic raw diet, the nicest beds that even a human would wish they can sleep on. Pon Pon is properly trained with all the basics and tricks, because Prosciutto doesn't want to deal with a misbehaving dog, but it will use puppy eyes against the old man now and then. He give you the best smiles if you call him a good boy and if you glance at the right time you can see Prosciutto smile for a brief moment. Had he lived longer, he would have made Pon Pon famous on Facebook like Boo the Dog. Prosciutto will also not admit that this dog has helped him get laid a few times, because every person he did bring home always got a kick out of Pon Pon.

Ghiaccio has a pet snake- an albino ball python named Bianco. Ghiaccio was also on the “pets are unnecessary” train too but mainly because he can't stand loud pets (i.e. Illuso and Sorbet and Gelato’s pets). When Risotto suggested he get a snake, Ghiaccio looked into it, researching and meticulously setting up the proper enclosure  and found himself going to a local reptile expo to find Bianco for sale. He’s fascinated by his snake to say the least, and would use leftover containers or Tupperware for Bianco to spend more money on proper equipment or food. Ghiaccio is really involved in online reptile forums and frequently debates with people on topics such as the best substrates to use, whether live rodents are better than frozen, ethics of breeding certain species, etc. He often gets worried when Bianco becomes picky and Ghiaccio would spend sleepless nights trying to get his baby to eat. Ghiaccio would walk around with his ball python wrapped around his neck or lets him slither around in his room under supervision but he mostly leaves him alone in the enclosure. There are times where he would claim he has the best, smartest pet and everyone just rolls their eyes like “yes the white fettuccine that got stuck in a toilet paper roll an hour ago is so smart”. But they let him rant about it. It’s kind of cute to say the least.

Pesci is the definition of people whose entire LIVELIHOOD is making his room into an aquarium. His room is full of strictly maintained, cleaned, and decorated tanks full of various types of aquatic animals. I’m talking Dwarf Puffers (Antonio, Portia, Jessica, Bassiano, and Solanio), Albino Gold Axolotls (Moe, Larry, and Curly), Red Ear Sliders (Franco and Ciccio), Clown Fishes (Browser, Mario, Toadstool, and Koopa), Brazilian Sea Horses (Tom and Jerry), a Blue Betta Fish named Valentina in a 30+ gallon aquaponics tank that grows a variety of plants each season- to name a few. He rebuilt his entire room to keep everything running and even had Melone help him set up timers for lighting and temperature control. Pesci will cry if you somehow made the pH level off by 1 or did not care for his animals properly when he’s away. He’ll even lecture you about bad tank setup. He's a prominent member of the aquarium  community in Italy and will regularly redecorate each tank to suit the year and mood. This is where he’s spending his cut on the 20 million lira job: caring for his mini aquarium room. He occasionally gives away his pets’ offsprings for extra money (he doesn’t breed but sometimes he ends up having a ton of baby animals he can’t take care of) and would have been a YouTuber for his fish content. Now that I think about it, Pesci reminds me of my mutual @nexter2nd. Please go follow them.

Melone has a Holland Lop bunny and you cannot change my mind. He actually had a pet bunny growing up, another Holland Lop named Echo and Grep, and his current one is named Sudo; all three are named after UNIX commands. He has a large dog crate he diy-ed to be a roomy enclosure in his room for her that he cleans frequently but also allows Sudo free reign of the room when she wants to go out. Because of his job, he makes sure all his wires are covered so his bunny isn't tempted to chew them and watches his bunny diligently whenever she roams around. Easter time is when the denim jacket, pastel bows, and flower crowns come out and Melone makes sure to take a lot of photos. He also housetrained his bunny and taught her a few tricks, similar to how he trained Echo and Grep years ago. Sudo is spoiled in terms of getting a lot of pets, new toys, and feasts on the finest veggies and delicious hay. Melone also makes sure the first thing he teaches his Juniors is to not harm the bunny. Surprisingly, he's against breeding Sudo and has her neutered. This is mainly because he doesn't have the time to breed and raise more bunnies but also he hates the idea of selling the grown bunnies off afterward. 

You know that Formaggio has a cat: the little Russian Blue cat named Sweetie Baby. Sweetie Baby was a kitten that he found outside his home. The little thing was the sole survivor of its litter and nearly starving to death, so he took her in thinking he will bring her to the shelter when she recovers; that cat now lets him live in HER apartment rent-free. Despite feeding her cheap dry food and constantly shoving her into bottles, he treats her like a queen otherwise. He will dress her up in little outfits (much to her annoyance) and often would be too aggressively affectionate towards her. Still, there are moments where she would cuddle with him during the later nights and allow him to put on one iced-out bow he just spent a quarter of his paycheck on. Walking to his apartment and even the backdoor of La Squadra’s HQ means carefully walking through the stray cats mewling at your feet, because Formaggio will feed any cat he sees. Initially, Risotto wanted the cats gone, but then he finds out the cats doubled as security when he watched some robber attempting to break in but getting their eyes scratched off instead.

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (2)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x  reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 2.9k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou​ , @ladymidnightt​ Part one Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

A sharp tone rips you out of your dreams, your alarm screeching at the top of its lungs to make you get up. You groan, fumbling around before you find your phone to turn it off. You look at your screen through bleary eyes, annoyed that you forgot to turn off your alarm considering it’s a Saturday and you absolutely do not have to wake up at 6.30 am today.

You huff, throwing your phone further down your bed and turning over to go back to sleep. The noise startled you enough that you can still feel your heart racing, and even though you doubt you’ll be able to slip back into the dream you had, you can still take a few minutes more to just rest.

You stare at the sunlight that has started peeking through the gaps in your curtains, everything still a little hazy from the vivid dream you had. But the more you look out in your room, the more the golden eyes and black soft fur you thought was only a dream starts melting away and the day before comes rushing back.

You actually adopted a cat! Your stomach does a funny flip, excitement rushing through your veins as you quickly sit up in bed. The floor is cold as you plant your feet on the ground, and you hurry over to your closet with a grimace.

In a few weeks it’ll become too cold to have the heater off, and you already dread how high your electricity bills are going to become in the following months. But it’s either that or freezing to death, and frankly with your busy schedule, you don’t have time for that. You throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants, happy that the only thing on your agenda today is just lazing around the apartment.

You hurry to your bedroom door after tugging on some thick socks to ward off the cold, only pausing for a short second to take a deep breath before opening it. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but finding your kitty lying directly outside of your door definitely wasn’t it.

You freeze, foot caught mid-air as you stare down at the black ball of fur curled up on the floor. You carefully set your foot down again, clutching the doorframe as you slowly slide down to a crouch. He's so fluffy and cute that your legs wobble, and you have to put a hand down on the floor to keep from toppling over your cat.

You wince as the cold seeps into your fingertips, and you don’t like the thought of your kitty sleeping on it. What if he gets sick? Can cats get sick? You’re not sure, but you don’t want to find out either.

“Kitty?” You murmur, watching as one ear twitches in your direction. You reach out slowly, hand hovering over the furry body hesitantly. You want to touch him, but the band-aids along your forearm serves as a reminder of how much he didn’t like that last night.

“Kitty?” You try again, and this time, golden eyes slide open at your voice. You let out a small coo as it blinks slowly, obviously still sleepy. You figure it might be safe to touch it now that it’s awake, but the moment you fingers inch closer it hisses, golden eyes suddenly wide and alarmed before it quickly scampers under the couch again.

You sigh, pushing yourself up to get some breakfast. You desperately want to cuddle and coddle your new cat, but it’s obvious that it needs space and time, and you need to respect that. Owning pets isn’t always sunshine and butterflies and you figure it probably had a rough life on the streets before you picked it up. It was alone in a shelter, after all.

You change out the water in the bowl you put out for your cat the night before, a frown settling on your face as you realize the dry food you got from Yeonjun hasn’t been touched. You sprinkle some more kibble on just in case, hoping that the fresh bits might smell good and entice your cat to eat something.

It’s still early and you’re feeling a little too lazy to make anything, so you decide that today’s breakfast will be yesterday's leftovers. You bring your meal to the couch, placing the plate with rice and chicken on the coffee table in front of it. You hear a low grumble from underneath the couch as you take a step closer, and you decide that maybe delaying getting your feet mauled for another minute is okay as you run back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

You don’t like the thought of being scared of your own cat, but you figure he’s probably way more scared than you are, and so you just need to suck it up for a while. You gasp as you round the corner, shocked to find your cat eating away at a chicken breast on your plate.

“Kitty!” You rush forward, scared that he’s eating something he isn’t supposed to and hoping to stop him, but your cat is back under the couch before you even reach the table. There’s an obvious gap on your plate from the missing chicken your cat brought with it under the couch, but from the sounds of it, it seems like your cat was starving.

You can hear the hurried bites from where you’re standing, and your heart aches a little at the thought of it being so hungry. Despite your better judgement, you quickly grab another breast from your plate before you can second-guess yourself. Placing it close to the edge of the couch on the floor, you snatch your fingers back just as a black paw comes out and swipes the food in.

You tentatively sit down on the couch, perching on the edge so that your legs are as far away as they can be. Your cat seems to be too busy eating to notice your presence, or maybe it just doesn’t care as long as you bring it food, but you’re nearly all the way done with your meal before you hear a soft hiss from underneath you again.

“I’m done soon kitty,” You mutter, shoving the rest of the food into your mouth before you hurry off into the kitchen with your plate. You know you still have a long way to go before your cat starts to like you, but it still feels like a small victory.  

.

“He hates me,” You groan as you slump down in your chair, Jihyo’s bright eyes staring at your over her computer screen.

“Who? Your cat?” She tilts her head, a small frown on her face as she takes in your tired appearance. You didn’t sleep well all weekend.

You felt terrible for making your cat scared, and so you tried to steer clear of the couch as much as possible. But you also realized you needed to make your presence known if he was ever going to get used to you - so you spent the weekend feeling guilty for both staying away and staying close.

“Yeah,” You mutter as you blow a stubborn piece of hair away from your face.

“It probably just needs some time to adjust ..” She trails off, but you can see the words on the tip of her tongue forming already.

“Don’t–” You start, but Jihyo interrupts you.

“This is why you should’ve gotten a hybrid! It would never be so mean to you,” She pouts. You take a deep breath, trying to push down the annoyance that wants to bubble up and explode.

You love Jihyo and she’s one of your closest friends, but she doesn’t really share the same reality as you. She has money, and you don’t. And while it sounds trivial, it’s enough to create a rift in situations like these where she just doesn’t get it. You don’t have money for a hybrid. Period.

“Jihyo. Let it rest,” You grumble, tone serious and eyes narrowed as you stare her down. She opens her mouth, but seems to think twice and clamps it shut instead.

“Fine,” She huffs. She lets you work in peace until lunch, but you can tell she’s practically bursting with the need to say something as she tugs you inside the lunchroom. It’s empty, you two usually taking your break a little earlier than everybody else just to get some privacy when you eat and talk.

You’ve barely taken a bite of your sandwich when Jihyo sighs dramatically, eyes wide as she throws her arms out across the table.

“I know I’ve only had Sana for three days, but if something happens to her I’m going to kill everybody and then myself,” You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile at how fond Jihyo seems to be already.

“Stop being so dramatic,” You snort. A man quietly makes his way inside the break room; you think you vaguely recognize him as being one of the IT guys in your department.

His eyes grow wide as your eyes meet, and he hurries off to the little kitchen in the corner of the room with his head hung low when you give him a small nod as a greeting. Jihyo seems obvious, too busy dreamily staring out of the window behind you as she continues.

“Sana is so cute. She’s so happy and cuddly,” She gushes, quickly bringing out her phone to show you some of the pictures she took over the weekend. You two have been texting of course, but you knew she wanted to talk about it in more detail over lunch.

“She even picked out her own collar! Look!” You see the IT guy slip out the kitchen as you take Jihyo’s phone, paying him no mind as you smile at the picture of her Pomeranian hybrid.

“Aww, how adorable,” You can’t help but grin, happy that your friend found someone she enjoys spending her time with.

“Y/N!” Jihyo suddenly exclaims, “Maybe I can bring Sana over on Friday? She’s been dying to see you again,” You mull it over for a second.

You do really want to see Sana and Jihyo, and since your cat pretty much lives under the couch you’re sure an hour or two will be fine. Sana seems to sweet and quiet that you don’t think it’ll be much of a problem even if she is a dog hybrid.

“Sure!” You agree, happy to spend some more time with your friend.  

.

The moment you step inside your apartment after work, you’re sure you see a black tail hurry around the corner.

“I’m home!” You call out, but the silence that greets you feels heavy and uninviting, and you suddenly feel more alone than what you did before when you were actually by yourself. You quickly shed your shoes and your coat, briefly slipping into your bedroom to pull on some more comfortable clothes.

You’re hungry; the lunch you brought today definitely wasn’t enough to keep you sated until work was over. You quickly fry up some vegetables and meat, mindful to keep away from any seasoning. Your cat has made it clear it’s not eating the cat food Yeonjun gave you, and so you’ve been letting it eat some of your own food until you can get him something else.

Once you’re sure the meat has cooled down enough, you slip some on to a plate, bringing it into the living room. You’re about to place it down under the couch when you hesitate. If you keep doing this you’re sure it’s only going to get harder to get to know your cat, and that’s not what you want to happen.

So you carefully place it a little further away, so that your cat needs to take a few steps out to eat it. You hurry out to the kitchen to grab your own plate, and when you return, you find your cat halfway out from under the couch, golden eyes trained on you as he eats.

“I’ll stay over here kitty. Take your time,” You make sure to sit on the other side of the couch, giving you cat some space while still being close. You turn on the TV, getting more and more absorbed in the show as your dinner grows colder.

You eat absentmindedly, the plot too interesting to tear your eyes away from. So it comes as a surprise when you move your hand to pick up your fork, but your fingers come into contact with soft fluffy fur instead.

You eyes snap down in panic as you find your cat looking up at you with wide eyes, a piece of meat caught between its teeth. Your fingers twitch involuntarily at the feel of fur against them, and the motion seems to remind your cat suddenly as to why it doesn’t like you.

Its ears flatten against its skull, and you can practically see the murder written in his eyes before he jumps down and crawls under the couch again. You don’t realize you were even holding your breath until your lungs start burning, and you drop your outstretched hand into your lap as you gulp down air.

You stay in the living room for a little while more, ignoring the disgruntled noises coming from the floor as you finish your show.

“Night kitty,” You say as you turn off the lights, hurrying down the hallway to your room and closing the door behind you. You can still feel the brush of fur against your fingers even after you’ve gone to bed, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Even if touching him was an accident, he has still started to feel comfortable enough around you to take the risk to steal your food, and that has to count for something.

.

Nothing really changes between you and your black menace until Thursday evening. You have been tiptoeing around your apartment all week, apparently the cat’s mood has only soured after you accidentally touched it, and you have no idea how to make it better.

It’s grown colder outside as well, and you can only hope that your cat at least sleeps on top of the couch when you’re not there. You’ve taken to laying out some blankets on the floor, just in case. Work today was particularly exhausting, and curling up on the couch with a blanket and some mindless television watching sounds like dream come true. So that’s exactly what you do as soon as you get home and finish dinner.

You’re skipping through channels until you find something mildly interesting - a documentary on hybrids. The narrators voice is soothing, and it doesn’t take long before you start drifting off, feeling comfortable and full after your dinner. You vaguely listen as the soft-spoken voice tells you about hybrids habits, almost lulled completely to sleep before you feel the slight dip in the cushion near your feet.

You’re so far gone that you barely pay it any notice, not even when you feel the presence getting closer and closer. You’re on your back, head tilted to the side as you watch the TV through half-lidded eyes as something steps on your stomach.

The blanket you have over you is so thick you can barely feel it, but you catch a dark mass out of the corner of your eye. He thinks I’m asleep, you realize, just as you suddenly feel a weight drop down on your body.

You don’t move, afraid that you’ll scare him now that he finally seems to have gained some confidence and trust in you. Your neck is starting to cramp from the awkward position, but you refuse to move, opting to just watch him get comfortable out of the corner of your eye.

You count to two hundred in your head after the moving stops, and turn your head the slightest bit just to make some of the pain go away. Golden eyes blink open immediately, staring you down as you look back at your cat.

“Comfy?” You ask, slowly reaching your hand to see if he'll let you pet him. You feel claws digging into the fabric despite the thickness when he notices your hand, a hiss rumbling in his chest until you drop it back down.

“No touching. Got it,” You mumble, somehow feeling a little chastised. You almost feel shy having him so close, especially when your cat won’t stop looking at your face, almost as if he’s scrutinizing it. But that’s ridiculous, you decide, he’s just a cat.

Any trace of sleep is long gone by now, but you cat however, seems to be growing tired of his staring game, eyes slowly slipping closed with each breath you take. You can still see that he’s a little tense, but just the fact that he’s here, on top of you, warms your heart.

You watch him rest until you feel your own eyelids become heavy again. You know your back will kill you tomorrow if you sleep here, but you don’t want to wake up your kitty, not when you can provide him with some warmth. So, you fall asleep with a lighter heart than you have had in days, hopeful that maybe this will turn out better than you first thought.

Oh, if only you knew what you really had gotten yourself into.  

- - - - Hello! Hope you enjoyed the second chapter of desolate! Next chapter will be Jihyo and Sana coming over to visit you and your kitty, which said black fluffball might not be so happy about .. Not when he’s just starting to warm up to you.

OT7 version is coming soon as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that :) Thank you all for the lovely feedback on the first chapter, it made me really excited to continue working on this! My inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon!

[chaoticallysapphic]

the great trial part three

summary: This was meant to be the easy part. The part filled with brightness and love. The war was over and you had the love of your life all to yourself. No more Baatar, no more secrecy and no more lies. But with the calm comes the realization as all the adrenaline finally leaves you. Now you know, this is the hard part.

a/n: shit’s getting interesting as ruins of the empire comes into play. I’m sure it’s not gonna go how some of you may want but this was necessary to help with somethings (which I am totally down to chat about via my inbox after you read this). As always thank you @medeliadracon​ and @ladyxffandoms​ !

word count: 5k

The next day Korra returns with a look of defeat, she has a device in her hand and papers that Kuvira must sign in order to leave, all of which state she won’t run away, and if she does they will forcefully detain her and lock her up in prison. You think it’s kind of dumb to have her sign this, a contract won’t stop her if she does decide to escape.

“I’m going with,” you say with your arms crossed. Kuvira immediately straightens up, handing the pen back over to Korra. 

“No you're not, you're staying here where it’s safe,” she stares you down as you glare right back. Flashes of that day outside of Zaofu keep her up at night and haunt her dreams. She’s actually glad you’re on house arrest because at least you're tucked away and out of harm's way

“You don’t control me anymore. He’s not here for you to hold above my head, so I am going with you and you can’t stop me.” 

“Uhm…” Korra starts, looking between the two of you, “I’m only authorized to take Kuvira.” The poor Avatar has no clue what you're talking about, she’s heard a few rumors from Bolin and even Lin, but she’s too afraid to ask either of you. She wouldn’t be surprised if one of you slapped the other right now.

“But I know Commander Gu-” 

“He doesn’t respect you, he tried to treat you like a waitress last time he saw you. If you're there it will make me look weak like I need someone by my side and…” Kuvira squeezes her eyes shut before reopening them. “You almost died last time you were involved with empire business.” 

“Oh, so we’re back to worrying about appearances, spirits. I thought those sessions were helping in some way.” You spit out before storming off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. You hear the sound of them talking as you sit on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

That small voice inside your head still rooting for her, the one that still believes in Kuvira is scolding you for snapping but you can’t help yourself. It seems that all the words inside of you meant for her have rotted and turned into venom. A few minutes go by before there’s a gentle knock at the door, you find yourself frozen, unable to move. 

“I’m…” Kuvira audibly sighs, “I’m leaving, I’ll be back in a few days most likely…” She waits for you to respond, you want to say something so bad, you want to beg for her to stay but it feels like your mouth has been sewn shut. “I love you.” 

The sounds of her footsteps receding before the front door gently clicks shut pulls you out of your frozen state, you race out of the bedroom and into the apartment with some kind of childish hope that she’s still there. But it’s empty, she’s gone. 

The rest of the day is spent sitting on the couch with your knees tucked close to your chest, watching the door. You couldn’t talk to her or look at her but the knowledge that she was nearby always helped you in some way. But now she’s gone and it wouldn’t surprise you if she did try to run off, it’s not like there’s anything pleasant waiting for her back at home. You made sure to destroy any type of happiness left in this apartment after that first night.

You eat dinner with the radio turned on to fill the house up with some form of life, stabbing at your piece of fish with a frown. You know what’s going to happen next and you're terrified of how it’ll go. Washing the few dishes in the sink you let out a defeated sigh before heading to the bathroom for a long hot shower to prolong the inevitable. Once done you take your time applying lotion and taking care of your hair before locking up the apartment for the night. 

Standing in the bedroom doorway you stare at the empty bed with a pounding in your chest. You can do this, you can sleep without her and live without her. Most likely you will end up living without her if she does what you think she’ll do so you need to get used to the lack of her in your life. 

You change into your pajamas before crawling into bed and when you turn on your side to face the wall of pillows you created. Tears gather in your eyes. What are you meant to do without her? 

You fall asleep a few hours later after calming down but don’t stay asleep for long, soon enough, like always, you're up and crying as you clutch at the blankets surrounding you. She’s left you once and for all, one final punishment to shut you up for life. It feels like the air is being squeezed out of your lungs as you choke on another sob, images of life without her playing through your mind, and suddenly you're reminded of how much you truly need her. 

At some point a few hours later you end up passing out in an uncomfortable position sprawled out across the bed with a pillow clutched to your chest. When you wake up your head is pounding from crying and your throat is dry, you feel like shit. You’ll have to accept that this is your life now. 

Dr. Hanika arrives a few days later, news of Kuvira’s temporary release must have its way around the city because she already knows. You’re aware that you look like shit with bags under your eyes and that certain hollowness that has filled you with her absence. The house is a mess as well, dishes left in the sink, dirt smeared on the floors from your garden. You're in three-day-old pajamas and haven’t brushed your hair recently.

“Today I think we should talk about the codependency that is very much present in your relationship, I think addressing this issue and working out a few exercises to help you in the future will benefit you greatly.” 

You never really thought your relationship was codependent before, then again most people probably don’t fall apart with the absence of their partner so you can’t argue with her. Even if you wanted to, you don’t have the energy. 

And so she helps you make a plan, a list of things that may help you. When she tells you that it’s just trial and error at this point your shoulders sag.

 That night you try the first option, soothing yourself to sleep, you light a stick of lavender incense and attempt to meditate which ends up being unsuccessful, but you power through and keep trying before finally giving up and going to sleep. 

Option number one does not work. 

So it’s time for option number two, you grab a heated water bottle and try to make a makeshift Kuvira out of some pillows before placing that on the bottom to keep them warm. It’s meant to imitate her and trick your mind into thinking she’s here, but when you wake up in the middle of the night reaching out for her because the warmth has since left her side of the bed, you realize it won’t work. 

Option number two does not work. 

There are a million little things on the list, all of which seem like they won’t work so when your eyes land on ‘get a pet’ a little bit of hope springs to life in your heart. Your dad is thrilled, you tell him a medium dog would most likely be best, so he rents a jeep and drives to the nearest town that has a kennel. 

You spend the day as you always do, tending to your garden and trying to distract yourself from the deafening silence. You guys didn’t talk anymore but the sound of her pencil meeting paper or cooking helped fill the air with the perfect amount of white noise.

The sun is high in the sky when your dad barges into the living room as you're eating a buttered roll, in tow is a medium-sized hound with droopy eyes and long, floppy ears. He has bags in his hands full of supplies with the biggest grin you’ve seen from him in a while. The dog begins to curiously sniff the furniture, it’s red fur standing out from the rest of the house. “I saw her and knew she was a keeper.”

He sets the supplies onto the dining room table and begins to slowly unload the bags. He ends up pulling out two dog bowls, kibble, some treats, toys, and a white-collar for her. The hound walks up to the table, her nose peeking out over the top as she sniffs the bag of treats.

“I heard someone in town mention that Kuvira is back in Zaofu, where is she?” his brows pinch together as he looks around the apartment. Your heart drops as your grip on the roll tightens, she’s here, but she’s not here. Did she take your statement to heart and go back to him? 

Is she currently wrapped tight in an intimate embrace with him, begging him to forgive her? Have they kissed yet? Is that stupid ring back on her finger? Your mind clouds with angry shouts of ‘you’ve finally done it, you’ve pushed her away and now she’s gone for life.’ 

“W-What?” The tone of your voice must be enough to let your dad know that she is, in fact, not here because he walks up and pulls you into his arms. You don’t even realize you’re crying or that you’ve dropped your food, which the hound happily snaps up. 

“She’s probably just going through some kind of inspection before they let her come back here,” he says in a reassuring tone. You nod. It feels like you’ve floated out of your body as he directs you to the couch where he sits you down before going to make you some tea. 

The hound jumps up beside you and rests her head on your lap. She lets out a deep groan before closing her eyes, you're so out of it that you keep your hands tucked on your lap despite it being slightly uncomfortable with her head nudging your arm. 

Congratulations, something vicious says within you, you’ve lost her for good. Your dad stays for dinner, he makes dumplings and patiently waits to see if the magic within them works, you offer a forced smile to try and placate him, but he can tell it's not genuine. When he leaves you stand utterly still in the living room, what do you do now? 

The hound, which your father suggested naming Lily after the flower Panda Lily, shoves her cold, wet nose into your hand and sniffs. It pulls you out of your self-deprecating thoughts and you robotically move your feet to the dreaded bedroom. Without instruction Lily jumps up onto the bed, wagging her tail as she waits for you to climb in with her. When you tug the blankets up to your chest she flops down beside you and presses her body against your chest. You wrap an arm around her middle and force your eyes shut, this is going to be the norm now. 

Two days later the bags under your eyes are gone, surprisingly Lily works. Her body heat tricks your mind into thinking it’s Kuvira and so each morning instead of bolting awake with a sense of dread filling you, Lily wakes you up with a lick on your cheek and a bark. 

You fall into a slightly altered routine, now when you're tending to your vegetable garden in the yard Lily joins you, she tries to bite the leaves and even manages to dig a hole that has you laughing for the first time in months. When you eat she lays by your feet and watches with this adorable look that warms your heart and when you read she lays her head on your lap. 

You still think about her, but now you think about her a little less. Now you can get through the day without crying. 

It’s that evening on the third night of owning Lily that the front door opens, you have your back turned as you do the dishes, but she alerts you that someone is here with her bark. When you look over your shoulder your whole body freezes up at the sight of a bewildered Kuvira as Lily jumps up to try and give her some form of a hug. 

“What the fuck.” Lily licks her hand, trying to bite at the wrapped stems which has her yanking it out of the dog's reach. Your eyes land on what's in her hand, it’s a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in white tissue paper. Your heart skips a beat at the sight. “Why is this dog here?” 

Her question rips you out of your frozen state, you turn the water off and wipe your hands with a kitchen towel. “Uhm… Dad got her for me, well for us.” 

She seems surprised by your willingness to talk to her. Part of her wants to argue that such a decision should have been made together, but she’s just so happy that you aren’t yelling or saying anything snide. “I got you these,” her voice is quiet and hesitant as she walks over to hand the flowers over to you. 

You try to fight the smile threatening to pull your lips up but you can’t stop it, only minimize it into something small, but she still notices. “Thank you,” you reply in a soft, appreciative tone. 

“They reduced my sentence to two years instead of three.” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you look into her eyes, willingly. “I missed you.” 

Your grip on the bouquet tightens at her confession. “I…” Letting out a deep sigh, you continue, “I missed you too.” Part of you wants to take the four steps it’d take to be close enough to pull her into your arms. But you don’t think you're ready for that just yet. 

She stands so still you think she may have turned into a statue. Inside her mind is practically shutting down, your words have caused some kind of momentary outage as she thinks of these last few months. Spirits these last few days were hell, the way things were left ate her up inside. It didn’t help that Bolin treated her just as badly as you did and while she didn’t like the man she knew you two were friends. 

“She deserves better,” he spat out the second he saw Kuvira. He was right, you do, but Kuvira is too selfish to leave, to give you a chance at a better life. One where you wake up next to someone who’d never hurt you the way she did, who would never force you to hide or become someone you weren’t. Someone your mother could stand to look at. 

More snide comments from the lava bender were sent her way during the trip but the one that stuck out the most was one said right before everything went to shit. “She was willing to die for you but you couldn’t even remember her birthday.” 

At least you have a friend, one who hates her guts but one who will stand up for you. At least you had someone to turn to because she knows she never let herself be an option. 

“I missed you too,” is all she can come up with and a soft laugh leaves you. Spirits what did she do to deserve hearing that? 

“You already said that.” 

“Oh.” Kuvira can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed, she’s too focused on you and that small smile, the way you softly touch some flower petals with such gentle and attentive care.

“I haven’t forgiven you, but I’m willing to start trying.” That is more than enough for now. This magnificent feeling in her heart is perfect and the way that you smile at the flowers makes it all worth it.

Time slowly eases on, the pillows stay erected at the center of the bed, and whilst you still won’t touch her, you both slowly begin to talk again. She goes back to making the meals except now you try to help from time to time. You begin to slowly talk to her again during the day, it starts with a simple “How are you?” and has escalated into full-blown conversations. 

Working with Dr. Hanika is grueling on both ends. You talk to her about slowly opening back up again but also about your fears, about how you feel bad for holding back because you can see how much she’s trying but you can’t help it. To which she always replies “you’ve been hurt by her, it’s okay to take your time and if anything it’s best to not rush any of this. I’m sure Kuvira understands.” 

Kuvira talks to her about many things, mostly about you but also about her trip. Suyin forgives her, sort of. She told her that she’ll always have a family with the Beifongs and admitted she let her down. It was a relief to hear that and it made her feel slightly less awful about herself. Apologizing to Baatar Jr. was hard and incredibly awkward. At first, he wouldn’t look at her and even threw a tantrum about working alongside her but, after she willingly let him test the machine on her, something eased between them.

After admitting how awful she was to him and how sorry she is the hostility between the two washed away. The only problem is it gave him the confidence to try and convince her that what they had was real. When she shot him down for what felt like the millionth time, irritation slowly started to rise within her, she may have snapped and said she only loved you and has only ever loved you. Unfortunately, that made her apology useless, he stormed off, and she hasn’t seen him since. 

Korra made her uncomfortable. Apparently, she had recently found out that Asami was the one, and had asked her a few questions about… well loving another woman. She may have even tried to pry and get information on the current state of your relationship, mentioning something about it feeling off at the apartment. 

She had to admit these therapy sessions helped because a few months ago she would have ended Korra for bringing you up. All the breathing exercises she was taught were used throughout that whole trip and every time a negative comment was thrown her way she had to remind herself that she was different than before. That the Kuvira they all witnessed last summer is long gone and replaced with one desperately trying to make things right. 

Leaves begin to slowly turn orange and fall to the ground in a heap. You begin to spend the days bundled up as you prepare your garden for next spring. It’s been a month and a half since Kuvira’s return, that’s eight sessions and eight weeks of slowly getting used to communicating again. 

Both of you are given different tasks on how to properly talk to one another. Dr. Hanika makes you realize that running from your problems won’t help, that shutting Kuvira out will only make things worse. She has you ask Kuvira to do small things for you, nothing extravagant but enough to help show you that she’s trying and enough to show her that you (healthily) depend on her to some small degree. 

Kuvira is given the task of making sure to do something with you every day. It’s kind of a task for the both of you but she gets to choose what it is and plans it out herself. The one activity you both end up enjoying is making dinner together, sometimes you’ll chat while skewering meat onto the kebab sticks and sometimes it’ll be spent in total silence, simply enjoying one's company whilst working together to make something. 

The one task that has you shying away is touch. Nothing major, just a simple touch on the shoulder, perhaps gently bumping your hip against her own when making dinner or touching her arm to catch her attention. Nothing romantic, just simple and friendly. Something you’d be willing to do to a friend. The first time you do it is after the sun goes down. Kuvira is engrossed in her art and had asked you to tell her when you were done in the shower, so she could hop in. 

She doesn’t realize it but you’re standing behind her clenching as anxiety wells up inside of you. It’s stupid and childish but it’s been so long and it’s meant to be small. You think of the simple touches at the beginning of your relationship, her hands brushing your hips to guide you in place or her fingertips ghosting over your bare shoulder. Even then it was romantic. 

Releasing your fists you take a step forward before gently laying a hand on her shoulder to help rip her focus away from her sketchbook. The action does work in redirecting her attention but it also has her jumping in surprise, her charcoal pencil swerving across the page as it ruins whatever was being created. She doesn’t even realize it as her body whips around to see who it is. Even though she’s by the front door and therefore would know if anyone else was around, it shocks her to find you there.

You with your oversized sleep shirt and baggy pajama pants with damp hair clinging to your neck. In an act of reflex, you pull your hand back, your eyes wide at her reaction. Neither of you speaks for a moment. 

“Uhm…” You bite your lip, “I’m done in the shower.” She opens her mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You touched her. It’s been months of no contact and yet your hand was just on her shoulder, suddenly she’s angry at herself for wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the slight chill, wanting to have felt your skin against her own. “I’m sorry I sho-” 

“No it’s…” Her throat feels so dry. Lily trots up to lick away a water droplet on your arm, you look down at the hound as you gently pull your arm away. She huffs before climbing onto the couch. “Uhm it’s fine.” 

Kuvira repeatedly blinks, it’s such a small action (except it’s not) and her mind feels like it’s splitting in half at it. 

“Is your drawing okay? It looked like…” At your words, she peeks behind her shoulder, it’s ruined. The uniformed, perfect lines to create a rough sketch resembling a large metal flower has a large swerve of black across the page. 

“It’s okay,” she lies. You’ll feel bad and then maybe you won’t touch her again and Kuvira does not want that to happen. “Thanks, I’ll… Go, y’know.” 

Spirits if past her could see herself right now she’d be cringing. It’s not that hard to speak! ‘Go shower’ is what she meant to say, but she forgets the word. You nod in understanding as you grip the bottom of your shirt. 

“Okay, I’ll… I’m going to sleep.” This entire situation is awkward and you practically race out of there to get away. You're embarrassed and you don’t know why. Once in bed, you mentally berate yourself for being so stupid. 

An hour goes by, her showers don’t usually take this long and you're about to get up to check on her when she enters. She’s in her usual long-sleeved dark gray sleep shirt and sweatpants that hang low on her hips. She doesn’t make eye contact with you when she crawls into bed, to be honest, she kind of zoned out in the shower as she replayed that simple moment that hardly lasted three seconds. 

It’s silent for a few beats before you break the silence. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” 

Kuvira’s eyes widen at your words, her head turns to look over at you, but not only is it pitch black, but the wall of pillows also keeps you out of sight. “You didn’t… I’m not uncomfortable.” 

“You’re not?” 

“No, I was just surprised.” It’s quiet again, so she continues, “please, if you want you can touch me in any way you want whenever.” She cringes, that sounded kind of sexual. 

You stare up at the ceiling as you grip the blankets. “Okay, that’s good to know.” 

You both go to sleep smiling. 

The herb garden you have growing inside is coming along beautifully and now you guys can take small clippings from it for meals. Summer has long since passed and autumn is nearly over, it doesn’t get freezing here during the winter but it’s cold enough to destroy any crops that try to spring to life outside and so your time gardening is limited to the shelves inside.

A couple of weeks have gone by since that shoulder tap and each day you’ve mentally psyched yourself up into touching her again in some way. Kuvira has to use all of her self-control to keep from touching you back, this is meant to be at your pace and unless you ask her to, she will keep her hands to herself. 

You get a bit bolder, your touches lasting a little longer and the anxiety slowly lessens as the days go on. Now when cooking dinner if you need to brush past her, you might place a hand on her back to let her know you're behind her. Three days ago you pushed back a stray strand of hair for her while she had her hands dirty with oil and herbs as she prepared the duck for dinner. She might have tightly squeezed the raw meat to keep from leaning into your touch but you don’t seem to notice. 

This morning you woke up with a thought on your mind, a desire to try something that has you bouncing your leg throughout breakfast. Lily sits under the table in hopes of food to drop as you push your eggs around your plate. Kuvira watches you with a raised brow, a pit is growing in her stomach as she watches you stare down at your plate. 

“How’d you sleep?” 

Your head whips up at her words, brows pinched together. It takes you a second to register her words before quickly replying “good, great.” 

Something’s wrong. Spirits did she say something in her sleep? She feels warmth flood her at the bits and pieces she remembers from her dream, none of it was currently possible with your situation, but she swears your lips on her skin felt real. She probably did say something, she’s made you uncomfortable and now you won’t want to be around her anymore. 

Breakfast continues in silence as you both mentally freak out over very different things. When you both decide to get up and start the day you go to grab her plate for her just as she’s picking it up. Your fingers touch and she’s waiting for you to flinch away in disgust but you don’t. 

“I got it,” your voice is soft and devoid of anger. In her stunned state, you're able to take her plate and carry it to the sink. You decide you’ll clean them up later after setting them down and take a deep breath. Now or never, you think. Walking back over to Kuvira who has since snapped out of her daze, you stand in front of her. Both of you stand stone still, just staring at one another. The prolonged eye contact seems too much so you rip your gaze away before clearing your throat. 

“Please, if you want you can touch me in any way you want whenever.”

Remembering her words from a few weeks ago, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her into a gentle hug. You don’t squeeze and give her room to pull away if she wants to. For a minute it’s just you hugging her as she stares down in surprise, you’ve since laid your cheek against her chest and closed your eyes. Your hair is a bit of a mess from sleeping and neither of you has gotten dressed for the day but this feels picture-perfect. She slowly wraps her arms around you, hugging you back. 

You both stand like that for a while as the morning light shines through the windows and casts a sort of warm glow on the room. You close your eyes and slowly relax in her arms, she’s warm and cozy, by being locked in here her muscles have slowly started to fade which you sort of miss but you don’t mind. This is friendly, right? You’ve hugged friends before, you hug your parents and Bolin and you’ve hugged Suyin. Zhu Li hugged you in the hospital and thanked you for helping her out. 

To Kuvira this feels amazing, her heart pounds away as she squeezes her eyes shut. It feels like a million years since having you in her arms. She doesn’t think she ever appreciated it enough, sure she loved it and craved your touch back then, but she didn’t know what it was like to lose you. To have you despise her and not able to stand the sight of her, let alone her touch.

She never wants to let go. 

For a good portion of the morning, you both just stand there in each other's arms. At some point tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, this is a small step forward. You're proud of yourself for this and are so happy to be taking a step forward. There’s a lot more to go but you decide not to dwell on that as you simply bask in each other's presence.

[cannibalisticapple]

So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

           Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

           They were wrong.

           The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

           Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

           After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

           It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

           Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

           The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

           “Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

           Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

           Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

           So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

           ...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

           “Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

           Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

           The Quirk did not wear off.

             Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

           A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

             Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

             Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

             Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

             He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

             As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

             For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

             At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

             “So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

             Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

             “Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

              Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

             “Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

             Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

             Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

             Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

             He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

             You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

             Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

             Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

             Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

             (He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

             “I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

             Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

             “Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

             Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

             Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

             As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

             Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

             After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open.  So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

             ............

             That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

             Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

             I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

              Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

              Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

             More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

             What was that spot?

             Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

             Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

             Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected  the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

             Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

             Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

             Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

             I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

             In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

           As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

             As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

             Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

              Day four of being a cat.

             Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

             Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

             So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

             And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

             It was not as easy as he hoped.

             “—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

             “It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

             No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

             “Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

             Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

             Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

             Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

             “Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

             “And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

             “Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

             “But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

             He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

             “He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

             The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

             He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

             Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

              Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

             Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

             Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

             They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

             Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

             This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

             He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

             Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

              Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

             “How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?” Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

             “Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

             “I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

             “Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

             Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

             Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

             “What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

             While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

             The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

             As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

             A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

             Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

              Day six of being a cat.

             Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

             “Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

             He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

             The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

             Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

             “...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

             This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

             Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

             But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

             And so, he jumped.

             His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

             Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

             Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

           He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

             Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

             It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

             “Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

             The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

             Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

             Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

             This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

             Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

              Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

             Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

             Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

             Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

             “What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

           Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

              “Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

             So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

             “So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

[seelaa26]

5. Forever Young

“May your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you. May you always be corageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young."

Sara and I were in the Break Room filling out paperwork about the case we just closed; a case we worked for three days. Sara was the person on the team with whom I had less contact, but when we started working together on that case, I knew I was going to like her. We were both very emotional and very passionate. We weren't going to give up until we got to the end of the matter and knowing that there was somone on the team with a determination like that, it was great. 

-¿What did he say when you told him that? -I asked interested in the story Sara was telling me about a boyfriend she had on her college days. 

-¡That he didn't remember! 

-¡No fucking way! -we both laugh at her response- You didn't believe it, ¿did you?

-No, of course not. 

-¿What are you girls up to? -Warrick asked as he entered the room accompanied by Nick. 

-Nothing evil if that's what worries you -I answered with a proud smile.

-Just talking about boys. 

-¿You think it's too late to get out of here and pretend we haven't heard a thing? -Nick muttered out loud to his friend.

-I'm pretty sure they already put a spell on us -Warrick muttered back. 

-¡Guys! -Catherine exclaimed- ¿What are you doing here? ¿Haven't you seen your phones? Grissom paged you twenty minutes ago, you've got a 419. 

-Crap.. –Warrick said and looked at Nick- We have to go, ¡now! ¿You coming with, Catherine?

-No, I’m working the carnival case with Sara –she replied causing Sara to pay attention to her.

-So, ¿which case am I working on? –I wondered out loud.

-Dead jogger in the park –Catherine answered- Robbins has already started the autopsy, Grissom’s with him if you want to join.

***

I walked into the autopsy room were Dr. Robbins and Grissom were already with the body. They both looked at me and then I walked up to the table where they were going over the autopsy findings.

-¡Glad your joining, Laura! –Dr. Robbins said- ¿You ever owned a kitten?

-¿..Yes, why?

-When you play with them, they don’t just bite.. they scratch –I nodded agreeing with him- There’s no signs of claw wounds on the victim.

-¿So what are we dealing with? –Grissom asked- The teeth marks on the neck look canine. ¿Can you make a mold of the bite? Maybe we can narrow it down to breed.

-¿A canine killed him then? –I asked- Maybe I’m wrong but.. ¿isn’t that a scalpel wound?

I looked at them both waiting for an answer. Grissom raised an eyebrow and looked at me through his glasses.

-You are not wrong –Dr. Robbins explained- Whoever removed this guy’s organs knew how to handle one.

-So a dog killed him, then someone came along and cut him up.

-Someone with two legs and a medical degree –Grissom ended.

***

After finishing the autopsy, Grissom took care of the bite mold while he told me to go back to the crime scene and help my colleagues. When I arrived, most of the police were gone, but the area was still cordoned off. I crossed the tape and followed the markers that Nick and Warrick had put until I found them. I could hear them grumbling.

-¿Do you need help? –I laughed as I walked towards them.

-Yes, I do –Nick pointed his gun and then pointed at his neck- Two in the back of the head. Quick and painless.

Warrick and I laughed.

-I guess Grissom called and told you what you should be looking for.

-Collect the dog’s scat –Warrick nodded- This is combat duty.

Suddenly, we heard a thunder and seconds later it started to rain.

-¡This sucks! –Nick yelled frustrated.

-¿But it’s evidence, right? –I asked them.

-No, hair and fiber is evidence, Laura.

Warrick saw something so we leaned for a closer look.

-Don’t even waste your time, that’s cougar.

-¿How do you figure that?

-¿See the rabbit hair in the feces? –Nick shined the flashlight on it- ¿Don’t you remember the seminar, Warrick? ¿Julie?

-Julie.. –Warrick remembered- Oh.. a CSI should not be that fine.

Nick chuckled meanwhile I rolled my eyes and continued looking around the area. I saw something behind them, so I reached out and picked it up.

-¿What is that?

-Looks like dirty ice.

-Let’s take it into evidence.

-It’s evidence of a picnic, Warrick –Nick said in a frustrating way.

Back at the trace lab, the three of us were working with the evidence of the case. Warrick passed us the jars and labeled them meanwhile Nick and I were looking through the microscope examining the dog scat collected at the park.

-Corn, hamburger, rawhide..  –he mumbled- But no human cellular tissue in this sample.

-Only thirty more jars to go –Warrick said with feigned joy.

-I have a question –I said calling the attention of my coworkers- ¿Isn’t the trace lab tech supposed to take care of this?

-It is, the point is that we don’t have a trace expert.

-Maybe you could be –Nick added.

-No, thanks –I smiled at the proposal- I’ve already chosen my specialty.

-¿Which one is it?

I opened my mouth to answer him but I thought better and instead of saying it, I smiled playfully. I put my hand on the table to give me support and I looked at him. He cocked his head in surprise.

-Let’s do something, I’m going to give you three opportunities to guess my specialty –I proposed, then I reached out my hand to shake it- Whoever wins, can decide something for the other person to do.

-Deal –Nick smirked as he shook my hand- Blood Spatter Analysis.

-Wrong –I smiled- You’ve got two more.

Warrick was silent, arms folded, watching the scene. His eyes traveled from observing me to observing Nick, several times. He had that mysterious look, trying to understand what he was seeing.

-We’ve I.D. the dog –Grissom said walking into the lab- The dog is a Great Dane-Mastiff mix, and as you know most dogs have 42 teeth, ours only has 41. O’Riley called around and the one with the missing tooth is no angel.

***

We walked up to the porch and rang the door bell, then we heard a dog barking from inside. The door opened and a woman was standing there. The dog in question barked and jumped on Grissom, his paws resting comfortably on Grissom’s shoulders.

-¿Susan Hillridge?

-Yes, “Doctor” Hillridge –she proudly corrected.    

-¿Is this your dog, Doctor? –she nodded- Well, you have a problem.

-Oh, no. Not again. ¿What happened?

-We are looking for a dog that had an involvement with a homicide –Grissom explained while the dog slipped off his shoulders- The dog we’re looking for is missing a tooth and I noticed yours is also missing a tooth.

-Okay, he is missing a tooth but Simba is not a violent dog.

-That may be, but we still have to take him into custody until we can determine whether or not he had any involvement in this homicide.

-You’re making a mistake.

-You said you were a doctor. ¿May I ask your specialty?

-Nutrition, my patients are mostly professional athletes –she answered with a frown in her face, she was pissed- You’ll let me know when I can pick up Simba.

-You are assuming a lot.

-So are you.

Without waiting longer, the officers took the dog, and the owner as a sign of being offended, crossed her arms and entered the house again. Grissom and I went back to the car, but on the way I told him something I had remembered.

-You know, we found a unique sample at the crime scene.. Great Dane-sized scat containing bits of premium pet store kibble –I commented- We need to find out what Dr. Hillridge feeds her dog, that could make a connection with the crime scene and the mold with the jogger.

Grissom nodded in agreement and as we climbed back into the car, his phone rang. He put it on speaker because it was Warrick.

-¡Hey! ¿You remember that ice we found at the crime scene? –he asked- It evaporated. It was dry ice, frozen CO2 sublimates into invisible gas, not water.

-The jogger was missing some organs. Surgical teams use dry ice to pack organs shipped for transplant.

-It just so happens the dog’s owner is a doctor –I added for him to know.

-Warrick get a search warrant for Dr. Hillridge’s house, when you have it come here with Nick. Laura will be waiting at the house, meanwhile I’ll return to the Lab and get the mold.

Nick was in the backyard checking the ground, and Warrick and I were inside the house. He was examining the living room and I handled the kitchen. I walked into the kitchen where Susan Hillridge was putting items into a blender.

-¿Would you mind if I looked in your freezer?

-I have a patient coming in exactly twenty minutes so if you want to rifle around until then, fine but I will not leave my place of business.

-No one’s asked you to.

I opened the large stainless steel refrigerator and looked inside. There were stacks of plastic containers neatly stacked and labeled.

-You’re very organized, Dr. Hillridge –she turned and looked at me- I imagine you’re upset about your dog.. having to put him down if it comes to that.

-I don’t hold onto things. I accept the evolution of change. None of us gets out alive but if we treat our bodies like a temple we can cheat time.

She turned around and took a step towards me. In one hand, she held a beet and in the other hand, she held a large cutting knife and held it up.

-Your eyes.. –she stared at my eyes- Your eyelids have a muted color. You have anemia. That means you have a low presence of hemoglobin.

-I know what anemia is.

-Then you should know you have to eat iron-rich foods. And you should add foods rich in folate and vitamin B-12 to support red blood cell production.

Warrick walked into the kitchen and watched Susan mixing her drink.

-Laura, ¿can you come with me for a minute?

I nodded and followed Warrick into the living room. He placed on the table a long thin box with a small plaque on the cover.

-Surgery equipment –Warrick explained- Antiques well maintained. What I find interesting is that she keeps them near the door, not in the office.

We went back to the lab and while Grissom took care of the mold and Nick of what he had found in the house, Warrick and I took care of the surgery equipment. We put the equipment on the table, we put on the lab coats and we got to work.

-Let’s find out if the owner cut the victim up –he looked at me- ¿What are we going to need?

-Reactive agents and filter paper.

-Now, we have two ways to do this. We could use the Luminol directly on the surface of the scalpel but since it is a small surface, we will use the second way -Warrick placed to small pots on the table and a pack of filter papers- One part leuko-malachite and one part hydrogen peroxide. ¿You want to do the honors?

-Yeah –I took a filter paper and ran it over the scalpel, then I put a drop of each pot on the filter paper and we both watched the paper change its color- Blue.

-Weird, ¿isn’t it? To prove the presence of hemoglobin, the stuff that makes the blood red, turns the swab blue.

***

 Grissom sat behind his desk delivering the bad news to us.

-I’m sorry, guys. If she cut up that jogger she didn’t use that scalpel.

-But we found evidence of blood on it –I spoke.

-I had Sanders run a degradation on that same sample. The blood is 50 to 200 years old, antique.

Nick walked from the hallway into Grissom’s office looking for us.

-Guys, I got a match -he smiled- The scat I found at the crime scene and the scat from the doctor’s house are the same, except for one difference. The stuff from the backyard, full of human cellular tissue. Jogger DNA.

-So we got the right dog –Warrick nodded- But she didn’t cut him up with that surgery equipment we found.

Grissom’s phone rang and he answered it. Ten seconds later he stood up and left the office without giving an explanation.

-¿What now? –I asked.

-Well, we have all the items taken from the kitchen –Warrick remembered.

Back in the Layout Room, we spread out on the table part of the items from Susan Hillridge’s kitchen. The three of us were spraying Luminol on the when Nick broke the silence.

-So, Laura, ¿what subject were you better at?

Warrick and I shared a quick glance and smiled, since he did know my specialty.

-Even if I told you, it doesn’t mean anything.

-C’mon, amuse me.

-Fine –I stopped to look at him- The subject I was best at was forensic medicine.

-¿Want to shoot your second guess, Nicky? –Warrick asked, giving him a huge clue in the question. Even though he had made me laugh, I nudged him.

-I’m going to be guided by something you once said, so I’m going to go with toxicology.

I looked up until our eyes met and then I shook my head. He made a regretful gesture with his face which soon stopped as soon as he saw Grissom walking into the room.

-¿What, are you guys working in bulk now?

-If the jogger’s blood is in any of this stuff, we need to find it now –Warrick explained.

-This is only part of the kitchen –Nick pointed to the items on the counter behind Grissom, who turned around to look at them- The rest is in those bags and boxes.

-I’m ready, guys –I said when I finished spraying all the items- ¿You want to hit the lights?

Grissom turned off the lights and we started looking for any signs of blood. He walked around the table and reached out for the blender, the bottom of which was glowing.

-She made a protein shake in this yesterday right in front of us.

-¿Why would she do that? –Nick asked.

-Get this to DNA –Grissom commanded- See if this is the jogger’s blood.

-I’d place a bet on it –Warrick said.

-You’d place a bet on everything –I joked.

-True –he smiled as he put the blender inside a package, then he realized something- There’s also a drinking glass that’s glowing.

-Whoa whoa –Nick said surprised- So she’s not selling the organs on the black market.. ¿she’s eating them?

-Possibly drinking them.

***

Grissom and Sergeant O’Riley entered the interview room where Susan Hillridge was waiting for them. As usual, I was looking from behind the glass. I had to observe the techniques and questions in an interrogation because I had to be prepared for my first time interrogating a suspect. It was a key moment in the investigation and I had to show poise and confidence.

-We found blood in your kitchen blender –Grissom said looking grim- The lab has matched it to the dead jogger.

-It had to happen eventually –she answered without being affected- Think of the bugs, Grissom. Cycle of life. When we die the fable we tell ourselves is we go toward a white light and angels, but you and I both now the hard reality is that insects arrive immediately and begin turning us back to earth. They’d die if they didn’t have bodies to feed off of, and so will I –she made a dramatic pause- Porphyria.

-The madness of King George –I muttered at the same time as Grissom, only they couldn’t hear me.

-Or the Legend of the Vampire. Which makes it a real hard disease to have, but it’s real for me.

-It’s genetic –Grissom explained- Heme deficiency.

-The only thing my father gave me. The first time it presented was after a minor sunburn. I began a drug regimen but they only treated the symptoms. I had my spleen removed because it absorbed my blood, but nothing helped. Lesions started forming on my face, that’s when I bought my first dog. Bullets and poison leave residue in the blood. Dogs kill clean.

-She’s right –I nodded and I explained to Nick, who was next to me- Bullet fragments can cause lead poisoning. The exposure to lead can have both short and long term effects, ranging from small change in organ function to symptomatic life-threatening toxicity.

-You could’ve tried intravenous hematin –Grissom continued.

-Human blood is the richest source of heme.. if you lock me up, I’ll go mad. I’ll die in prison.

-Yes, but the people you’d be feeding off of will still be alive –she smiled at him as he threw her own words back at her- Cycle of life.

***

Warrick and I were picking up our things from the lockers when Nick walked in. I don’t know if it was by chance or Warrick did it on purpose, but he managed to be faster than me, so he crossed paths with Nick when he left. We were both alone.

-¿Can I have my last chance before you go? -I nodded while I put my bag on the bench and looked inside to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything- Ballistics.

I looked up surprised and saw that he was in front of me with his arms crossed and a proud but cute smile on his face.

-Congratulations –I smiled back- You are right. I’m a gun girl.

-I know –he breathed, placed his hands on his waist and looked at me again- Ever since I met you I’ve always thought of you as someone with a pump-action. Besides, that explanation about the bullets in the interview has made me feel confident about my choice.

-¿Then what took you so long? –I wondered- ¿Why Toxicology?

-Well, you once said something about.. your uncle and alcohol –he answered carefully, not knowing how that was going to affect me- I thought it was a reason.

-It is a reason, but it’s just not mine –I smirked to make him see I was fine- I just like guns and shooting.

-Maybe you can tell me more when we are having dinner.

-¿Dinner? –I asked, then I realized- ¿That’s the price of you winning the bet?

-¿You don’t feel like going to dinner with me?

Absolutely yes. Damn right I wanted to, but I had to show calm and not nervousness or Nick would notice the desire I had.

-Actually, dinner it’s what I would’ve proposed to you but I was interested to see what you proposed.

-Wait.. –he stopped and looked at me with a frown- ¿Are you saying that you have let me win?

I put the bag on my shoulder and got close enough to him to whisper in his ear.

-¿How do you know that the explanation about the bullets wasn’t on purpose for you to realize?

I moved a few inches away so that Nick could see my seductive smile, to which he replied with another smile from the same caliber. He felt like he should do the same, so he got close to me. Close enough to make me feel shivers down my spine.

-¿..And how do you know that I didn’t know the answer from the beginning and I’ve been playing the game because I wanted to?

Being so close and with this tension in between, made me think that something was emerging between us. Maybe it was just a silly flirtation between coworkers and there was nothing else, but that flirting, if not controlled, would turn into fire. The decision was to let it burn or turn it off before its expansion. The thing is.. ¿if it doesn’t burn a little then what’s the point of playing with fire?

-¿Dinner tonight then? –I proposed.

-Cowboys ware playing tonight and I’m meeting a friend to watch it –he rejected, even though you could see he didn’t want to- When I know the schedule for next week, I’ll tell you something, ¿okay?

-Perfect –I placed my hand on his shoulder and smiled at him- ¡Have fun tonight and go cowboys!

-¡Damn right!

[iusedtoknowwhatawishwasfor]

Queequeg's Resurrection

For: Astrid // Berenbos

QUEEQUEG

Oh my glob. Oh my glob. Oh my glob. I think that's what my human, Mommy, says. There was a big thing like another doggie but with no hair and lots of teethies. I think it wanted to eat me! I got away but he ripped out some of my feathers. My feathers are little perfect fluffy hairs on the back of my legs. That's what they are called - look it up. I swears. 

My poor feathers. BUT - I runned away and now I'm hiding. It's very wet here and the grass is higher than me. This isn't like where Mommy and me live so’s I hope I find her. She has red hair like me and always smells nice and gives me treaties. She is nice and soft to lay on when she watches the glowy box. 

I don't hear the toothy dog anymore, so I am going to see if I can move from here. I poke my nose out and sniff the air. I don't smell its weird stinky smell so I think I might be OK to walk around. I want to see if I can sniff out Mommy. I start out with one my nose to ground but I keep checking with my eyes because that doggie was so quiet. I move real slow and then I catch it - a whiff of Mommy!! Oh my glob!!

I move faster but I'm still looking a lot. Mommy's fren Muldo thinks I'm dumb. I heard him call me 'dumb dog' but I am not dumb. I am a smart doggie and I will show him. I will find Mommy. 

Mommy... Mommy... Mommy... 

If I keep saying it in my head maybe I will find her quicker. OH! I hear her. MOMMY!!

I burst out from the grasses and there she is wrapped in a binky. She is all wet - no wonder it took me some time. She is standing next to Muldo - HE is the dumb one. I arf and arf and she spins to look at me. 

"Queequeg!!" Mommy yells bending down. I run so fast I almost fall. It's my Mommy! She picks me up and I gib her all the kissies. She holds me close and she starts to cry. No cry, Mommy - I am here. Be happy!

"Holy shit - maybe you're not such a dumb dog after all." Muldo says and I want to growl at him but I am just so happy to be safe with Mommy that I don't. She gibs me more cuddles and then says "I can't believe it! You're ok." I gib her more kissies. She buries her head in my fur and gives me one last huggie. 

That was a close one! I won't be leaving Mommy's side again!!

SCULLY

I get overwhelmed when I see that little tuft of red hair coming my way. I can't believe it - my little guy is OK. I don't think I realized just how much I love him until now. Tears are welling up in my eyes and I don't even care. I hear Mulder saying something about my "dumb dog" not being so dumb but it fades in the background as I give him more hugs. I think before he entered my life, I didn't realize how much love I had to give - now I have someone to give it to and I need this little ball of floof in my life. 

"You're ok - my little floof." I murmur as I hug him to my chest and begin walking back towards the motel. Mulder trails along behind me muttering more things I don't hear in my still-shocked state.  

I unlock the door to my room and, only then, do I release him to the floor. He proceeds to hop around excitedly at my feet. My smile beams and I bend over to scratch behind his ears. Mulder has followed me into my room and sits down in the chair near the small table. He has stopped talking, probably realizing that I wasn't listening anyway. 

"Want some food, little man? I bet you're starving!" I say as I move to open a bag of kibble. I was still in too much shock to throw anything of his away yesterday. I put down his bowl and smile as he happily stuffs himself on the dry food. 

I sit down on the chair opposite to Mulder and watch Quee eat. 

"Sorry, Scully - I guess I didn't realize how much you loved him." My brows furrow as I look at him. Am I that much of a robot in his eyes? That I couldn't even love my dog? I think he knows how I took it within a second. I watch idly as Quee hops up on the bed across from us. 

"He's my dog. Of course I love him." I say flatly. 

"Hey, Scully, I didn't mean anything by it... I just..." he trails off, looking embarrassed. 

"It's fine." 

"Clearly it's not - I didn't mean you're incapable of love or anything..." Oh, Mulder, shut the fuck up before you get yourself in more trouble. I roll my eyes to the ceiling then close them. "Of course you are capable of love... like with your mom and stuff...." Has his mind left the building? I give him a look that conveys this.

"I just... it makes me think of all the things you must want for your life but don't have because of this job." 

"Mulder, I have Quee *because* of this job, remember?" 

"Yeah... but he's just one step closer to a normal life. You're just missing the husband and 2.5 kids." 

"Mulder, where is this even coming from?" 

"I don't know - our conversation out there on that rock. Am I really the stubborn captain dragging you around on a fruitless quest? I don't want you to miss out on things that could make you happy."

"Mulder. First of all, I wouldn't be here if it didn't make me happy and leave me with a sense of fulfillment. Second, you are not dragging me anywhere. I wouldn't be going with you if I didn't want to be there. I'm not Ishmael or the rest of the doomed crew. I'm my own person and make my own career and life choices." I said, somewhat offended about the way he's making ME into the hapless puppy dog of this situation.

"I didn't mean to imply that you don't have agency here... just that... I want you to be happy," He said, it's his turn to be the puppy dog with the big sad eyes.

"I am happy. I know this job can be hard and challenging but it's one of the reasons I love it so much..." I am trying to convey my truth to him in my eyes. "I was never the kind of little girl who dreamed of her wedding day or had her children's names picked out. I wanted adventure and to make a difference and I'm living that life so I'm happy. I'm happy with... you."

He gives me a shy smile. "Are you with me?"

Shit... this has taken a turn. "I... could be... if that was something we both wanted."

"Is it something you want?" It is just me or has his voice gotten deeper? Also it's gotten about 10 degrees hotter in here. I open my mouth but nothing comes. He saves, and slays, me with his next comment. "I want it."

"You do?" I squeak out. Jesus, is that even my voice? 

"I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been thinking about you and I... for a long time. I never knew what I wanted out of life as a kid. I never knew where life would take me. I certainly didn't expect you." He says with a fond smile quirking his lips. "But maybe that's the best part of life - those things that come out of nowhere and surprise you. All of a sudden, you have everything you didn't know you wanted right in front of you."

"Is that what I am to you?" I can't even believe I got those words out - I'm so shocked. This has been the most bizarre few days. I need to hear him say it - say those words - what he wants,

"Yes - you came out of nowhere and turned my life upside down. I didn't know that I would ever, or could ever, feel this way about someone. So... yes... you're all I want."

"You're all I want, too." I whisper but he must hear it because suddenly his face is right in front of mine. He moved lightning fast from his seat to kneeling in front of mine. His hands are light on my knees as he looks me straight in the eye, asking for my permission. I give a small nod and then we're kissing. I can't believe it. How did this even happen? We're kissing and his hands are in my hair and my arms are linked around his neck.

QUEEQUEG

What is dis?! He looks like he's gibbing her kissies. Only I am allowed to kiss mommy!! I have to put a stop to dis!

I jump off the bed and run at them...

MULDER

I can't believe it. I'm finally kissing Scully and it's perfect... exactly what I thought it would be. I knew we would be so good together...

JESUS!!

QUEEQUEG

I pounce!!

MULDER

Her dog is attacking us! Well... not attacking but he jumped into her lap and is now barking incessantly.

"I knew your dog hated me," I say dejectedly until I look up at her face. There is so much love and joy in those baby blues. We grin at each other and then we're laughing hysterically. This whole thing is ridiculous but I can't believe I finally got to kiss her. I'm actually giddy with it and I don't think I have ever felt this way, at any point, in my life.

“Scully, I don’t think is going to work…” I start and her face drops. “If your dog is going to jump on us every time I kiss you because I plan on doing it a lot.”

Her face lights up. “Oh two men battling for my affections!” She puts on a fake southern drawl that makes me chuckle. “I mean, Queequag does share my bed at night…”

“We’ll see for how much longer…” I lean in and give her a soft, slow kiss until the damn dog jumps up between us again. “Think you can make room for a fox, as well as a hound?”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “That was bad, even for you. But yes, I have plenty of room for both of my boys.” She gently pushes the pup off her lap and places her hands on my cheeks, her nails lightly scratching the 5 o’clock shadow there. She leans in and I meet her halfway for a kiss that somehow feels more intimate than the others before it. “Mulder, you know I love you, right?”

“I hoped, Scully, I hoped you loved me as much as I love you,” I say, touching my forehead to hers. She captures my lips again and I do my best to push the furball back. “So… when we get back… think maybe your mom can watch the hellspawn for a weekend? I really want you all to myself.” 

“Mmm… that is definitely possible.” She makes me happier and happier by the minute. 

THAT WEEKEND…

QUEEQUEG

Mommy is acting weird. Ever since we got back from the swampy place she is jittery… as jittery as me. She is walking around moving our stuff and playing with her hair. It’s really weird.

There is a knock at the door! I love visitors!! 

Mommy lets them in and OH MY GLOB! It’s grandma!! I run toward her and leap into her arms. “Hello, my little fluffy one!” she says and I gib her all my kissies. “You’re coming to stay with me for the day! How about that?”

Sounds great, gram - you gib me lots more treaties than mommy. You say it’s our secret so’s I neber tell her. 

“Dana, don’t you look nice… expecting another visitor after me?” She winks her eye at mommy.

“Mooooom…”

“Just asking, dear!” she says and throw her hand that’s not holding me up. “Just… maybe you could give me some details when you come to get furry man tomorrow.”

“We’ll see…” she said, grabbing my baggie with all my stuffs and handing it to gram. “Thanks again for watching him, mom. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She kisses gram on the cheek and ruffles my head fur. Then gram and I are off to the place with tons of treats. We pass Muldo  in the hall and after he says ‘hey’ to gram, he ruffles my head fur too. He smells like the woods, not the swamp. I guess he’s ok. I guess I can let mommy keep him.

END.

@xfilesfanficexchange here it is!! I hope it lives up to the expectations of the prompt writer (prompter? Is that even a word?)

[catskingdom02-blog]

Raw Cat Food - Why It's the Best Diet For Your Cat, and What Are the Trade-offs For You?

The biggest myth surrounding cat ownership is that cats are worry free, self-contained and self-providing pets that require little or no maintenance. Cats are so good at giving people the impression of independence and self-reliance that people believe they don't have to provide the highly focused attention to cats that, say, dogs require. The fact of the matter is that cats do require the same attention to detail that any dog does, and maybe even a little more, in some cases. This is especially true when it comes to probing the controversy regarding whether raw cat food is better that canned cat food or kibbles for your feline ward. great post to read Feeding a three cats living in abandoned building

It's a sad thing to look around our country these days and see so many people who have allowed themselves to become overweight and then have to deal with the consequential suffering and ill-health effects of obesity. Diabetes, shortness of breath, constant exhaustion from lugging around so many extra pounds and lowered self-esteem. Of course, the garment industry is singing happy tunes with all the extra thread they have to put together. There's no shortage of explanations for why this situation has come about, but I think when it comes down to it we can only blame ourselves at the individual level for allowing such a condition to take root. After all, how many pounds overweight does one have to get before they realize that something's not right and becoming a problem? 10, 20... 50 lbs? And how long does it take to realize that the magic pills, diets, elixirs and effortless, lose-weight-with-no-work-out machines are products being marketed to your ego, to separate you from your bank account, and not to solve your problem? No... the only way to find an ideal normality is with thorough research, discovery and a lot of hard work accompanied with a healthy life style change. But, enough sermonizing about the human condition. This is about cats, their eating habits and raw cat food.

One thing needs to come along with this discussion from the previous paragraph. Most people are not experts in animal nutrition and rely on others to lead them in the right direction. The source for most 'experts' available to a person for their daily decision making and selection of choices usually comes to us through the traditional media of radio, newspapers, television and now, the internet. Media offers two kinds of resources. Investigative reporting which is presented in newscasts or opinion pieces, and secondly, the marketing hype that provides commercial broadcast funding. The former is reliable enough to put credence into and might call for further research on your part if it interests you. The latter really only wants you to spend your money with them. That's not necessarily bad... it does ultimately put people to work and provides many with an adequate, and even comfortable living. Unfortunately, the bottom line is... corporations only have one objective in the end. That is to feed their bottom line. Now recent events have caused many to reconsider the morality behind a corporations goals. But, as long as this market structure is the paradigm for our economy, the ultimate goal for big business will always be to maximize their profit-loss statements towards the profit end of the spectrum, any way they can get away with, and at your expense... literally.

So, what does this have to do with cats and if raw cat food is what you should be feeding them? Simply put, most people rely on the marketing hype to base their decisions regarding the food they feed their pets. Which is exactly the wrong source for basing such a critical decision. Take the cat for example. It's not only a scientific fact, but a cultural one also, that the cat is described as an obligate carnivore. This defines cats as creatures who derive most of their food nutrients from the animals they hunt and consume (raw cat food). When a cat devours it's prey, she will eat everything including not only muscle meat, but the brains, organ meat and the stomach and its contents which may consist of grasses and grains. One thing she doesn't do is fire up a stove and saute or bake her dinner, or prepare a nice sauce to go with it. She eats it raw. Cultural purists use this description as an argument that feeding cats store bought, mass produced canned or dry cat food is doing your cat a disservice by depriving her of the natural nutrients she would normally get in the raw cat food she captures in the wild, and for which she was biologically designed.

Pottenger's cats Francis M. Pottenger, Jr. (1901 - 1967) was the son of Francis M. Pottenger, Sr., the physician who co-founded the Pottenger Sanatorium for treatment of tuberculosis in Monrovia, California. Between 1932 and 1942 he conducted what is know as the Pottenger Cat Study. One part of this study was what effect heat had on the nutrient value of raw food. In other words, what happens to food when you cook it.

"Pottenger used donated laboratory cats to test the potency of the adrenal extract hormones he was making. The adrenal glands of these cats were removed for the experiments and Pottenger noted that most of the cats died during or following the operation. He was feeding the cats a supposedly nutritive diet consisting of raw milk, cod liver oil and cooked meat scraps of liver, tripe, sweetbread, brains, heart and muscle.

When the number of donated cats exceeded the supply of food available, Pottenger began ordering raw meat scraps from a local meat packing plant, including organs, meat, and bone; and fed a separate group of cats from this supply. Within months this separate group appeared in better health than the cooked meat group. Their kittens were more energetic and, most interestingly, their post-operative death rate was lower.

At a certain point, he decided to begin a controlled scientific exploration. Pottenger conducted studies involving approximately 900 cats over a period of ten years, with three generations of cats being studied.

Meat study:

In one study, one group of cats was fed a diet of:

Two-thirds raw meat, one-third raw milk, and cod-liver oil

A second group was fed a diet of two-thirds cooked meat, one-third raw milk, and cod-liver oil.

The cats fed the all-raw diet were healthy while the cats fed the cooked meat diet developed various health problems:

By the end of the first generation the cats started to develop degenerative diseases and became quite lazy.

By the end of the second generation, the cats had developed degenerative diseases by mid-life and started losing their coordination.

By the end of the third generation the cats had developed degenerative diseases very early in life and some were born blind and weak and had a much shorter life span. Many of the third generation cats couldn't even produce offspring. There was an abundance of parasites and vermin while skin diseases and allergies increased from an incidence of five percent in normal cats to over 90 percent in the third generation of deficient cats. Kittens of the third generation did not survive six months. Bones became soft and pliable and the cats suffered from adverse personality changes. Males became docile while females became more aggressive.

The cats suffered from most of the degenerative diseases encountered in human medicine and died out totally by the fourth generation.

At the time of Pottenger's Study the amino acid taurine had been discovered but had not yet been identified as an essential amino acid for Cats. Today many cats thrive on a cooked meat diet where taurine has been added after cooking. The deficient diets lacked sufficient taurine to allow the cat's to properly form protein structures and resulted in the health effects observed. Pottenger himself concluded that there was likely an "as yet unknown" protein factor (taurine) that may have been heat sensitive.

Milk Study:

In another study, dubbed the "Milk Study,", the cats were fed 2/3 milk and 1/3 meat. All groups were fed raw meat with different groups getting raw, pasteurized, evaporated, sweetened condensed or raw metabolized vitamin D milk. The cats on raw milk were the healthiest while the rest exhibited varying degrees of health problems similar to the previous cooked meat study.

This particular Pottenger cat study has been cited by advocates of raw milk as evidence that it is likely healthier for humans than pasteurized milk." +

Though Pottenger's experiments don't conclusively verify that raw cat food diets are better for sustaining a healthy support for the physiological needs of cats than cooked (canned) or dry kibbles, (because he didn't use canned cat food or kibbles in the experiments) certain conclusions can be drawn.

Cooking meat can destroy certain food nutrients, namely amino acids (proteins)

Cats thrive more healthily on raw meat rather than cooked meat with less degenerative results

Cooking meat for your cat requires the replacement of the essential amino acid taurine, and possibly other nutrients destroyed in the cooking process

Pet food marketing hype says that "XYZ" cat food products are healthy for your pet because it adds "ABC" nutrients, vitamins and minerals to their product which safeguards your cat's health. Fortunately, marketing laws require that the ingredients in any given product be listed on the packaging of your cat's food. Ultimately, it is left up to you to make the decision about which is the best shelf product for your cat.

For a discussion that details interpreting cat food labels CLICK HERE

Today's problem plagued market place has left many in doubt as to whether the corporate entities that supply the bulk of our aggregate necessities can continue to be worthy of our trust. Arrogance and greed have always gone head to head with social morality and it's usually the end user that ends up paying with unnecessary suffering. Many pet owners have now taken matters into their own hands and are resorting to providing from raw ingredients meals made with their own hands for their pets. It's not a bad step but certain measures, which include a life-style change, need to be taken when preparing your pet's meals to keep her safe from bacterial infection and insure that her nutritional needs are met.

Here's an example of a raw cat food meal preparation from scratch:

2 kg [4.4 pounds] raw muscle meat with bones (chicken necks are mostly cartilage, are easy to chop and easy for the cat to digest) thighs and drumsticks or, better, a whole carcass of rabbit or chicken amounting to 2 kg; if you don't use a whole carcass, opt for dark meat like thighs and drumsticks from chicken or turkey)

400 grams [14 oz] raw heart, ideally from the same animal (if no heart is available, substitute with 4000 mg Taurine)

200 grams [7 oz] raw liver, ideally from the same animal (if you can't find appropriate liver, you can substitute 40,000 IU of Vitamin A and 1600 IU of Vitamin D--but try to use real liver instead of substitutes).

16 oz [2 cups] water

4 raw egg yolks (use eggs from free-range, antibiotic-free chickens if you can)

4 capsules raw glandular supplement (such as, for example, "Raw Multiple Glandular" from Premier Labs)

4000 mg salmon oil

200 mg Vitamin B complex

800 IU Vitamin E ("dry E" works well) Buy Vitamin E in dry powder form. It's much easier to deal with than those little oil-filled capsules.

OPTIONAL: 1/4 teaspoon of kelp and 1/4 teaspoon of dulse (1/2 teaspoon total) Try and get dulse and kelp in powder form that you can easily measure with a teaspoon rather than in capsule form. Taking apart those capsules is time consuming. If you can only find kelp in caplet form, you'll need to spend time crushing the caplets with a mortar and pestle.

OPTIONAL: 4 teaspoons psyllium husk powder (8 teaspoons if using whole psyllium husks) ?

NOTE: If you cannot find the heart or liver and decide to substitute with the Taurine/Vitamin A and D, then remember to replace the missing amount of organ meat with the equivalent amount of muscle meat. In other words, if you cannot find heart, you add another 400 grams of the meat/bones. If you can't find the liver, add another 200 grams of meat/bones.

It looks like this recipe will produce about 5- 6 lbs of finished raw cat food product which would feed a single cat for several weeks. That means most of it would have to be frozen in individual air tight containers and thawed as needed.

The digestive system of a cat is designed to handle things human systems can't. Their stomachs have a highly acidic environment, which is an excellent deterrent to ingested bacteria such as e coli and salmonella. In the wild, cats sometimes eat some pretty iffy stuff with no ill effects. Wild cats die more often from infection due to injuries than from food poisoning. However, there are steps you can take if you have concerns about raw cat food bourn bacteria.

Avoid packaged supermarket ground beef using whole chunks of meat instead

Buy "free-range" meat and poultry as fresh as possible

Add priobiotics (which help maintain intestinal health) to your raw food preparation

Proper handling of raw cat food is essential since some raw cat food may contain bacteria that could cause illness to you or your pets. Be sure to keep raw cat food meat and poultry separate from other foods. Wash hands prior to, and after handling raw cat food. Wash working surfaces, bowls, and utensils that come in contact with raw meat with hot, soapy water. Always wash your hands after cleaning your cat's waste; this includes litter boxes.

Pick up and dispose of uneaten raw cat food within 30 minutes of feeding your cat

Preparing raw cat food meals from scratch for your cat is a labor of love indulged in by purists. Most people don't have the time, and maybe lack the talent to take on such a task. If you count yourself among this latter group, rest easy. Ready-made products are finding their way to the market place. There are complete raw cat food meals which are shipped frozen and there are mixes which all you have to do is add the meat. Just remember that if you are going with the mix, be certain that the essential amino acids such as taurine are included. If not then be sure to add the heart (a source for taurine) and other organ meat from the same animal if possible, with the raw cat food meal so that your cat won't be deprived of these critical ingredients.

So, what are the trade-offs you ask?

Well, for one thing you will have to forego the convenience of one-stop-shopping in the supermarket pet food aisles. Orders for raw cat food meals or mixes are mostly made on-line so you will have to deal with credit or debit cards. Pre-planning will have to be regular routine so that you don't run out of raw cat food before the next shipment arrives. If a shipment thaws, you will have to return it because you won't want to take any chances with bacterial infection. Most companies will honor returns due to thawing. And, if you prepare raw cat food meals completely from scratch, be prepared to spend a couple of hours in the kitchen with this task.

The real trade-off is with the quality of cat food you will be providing. The store bought 'meal' based cereal foods will be replaced with the high quality fresh foods that cat's were designed for. Some cats may balk at the transition at first because they weren't socialized with raw cat food as kittens. But, their health will show marked improvement, you will probably be surprised by the results which can be compared to how your cat behaved before being fed a fresh, high quality raw cat food diet that meets their needs nutritionally, plus their immune systems will be stronger giving your cat a chance for a longer, healthier life.

Ask any monk or even the ordinary, next-door-neighbor contemplative type, and they'll tell you that life is not easy; suffering is the characteristic that describes much of the existence in this corner of the Universe, and that the punishment for ignoring this fact is to bear more suffering. Yet this suffering can be relieved with even a little knowledge and understanding of why and how things can operate to ease your burden. It does take a willingness on your part to change and accept new habits to accommodate a changed life-style. But, knowledge and understanding cannot be acquired through osmosis. It takes a lot of work to comprehend even a small amount of the sense that holds life together. One can't depend on epiphanies either. Like magic and miracles, instant knowledge occurs only rarely... and you can grow old waiting for it while your cat pines for a raw cat food meal. It'd be like huffing and puffing along wondering why you're carrying around all that extra baggage.

[rosalynbair]

As Always | AO3 | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | 

Words: 1824

Warnings: angst (oops?), a loving marriage, honestly a bit painful, injuries, death, I haven’t written in literal months so sorry ya’ll - i’m rusty. Don’t read past the ~ if you want this to end happily

Coffee filtered through the machine, the rough hiss of the coffee pouring into the pot joining the repetitive clunk from deep within the old coffee maker. The sizzle of the eggs as they meet the hot pan echoes in your ears.

The soft light of the street lamps glowed through the front window above the sink, the sky only barely beginning to lighten up from the deep black of night to the milky grey of the cold Colorado winter mornings. A figure walks down the sidewalk, passing the fading yellow bungalow on Washington street that housed a detective and his girlfriend.

The bundled up person pauses by the white fence surrounding the front yard, the shadow of their dog moving along to sniff at each piece of wood before moving along to the next house. A smile tugs at your lips, the wooden spatula in your hand sliding carefully under the egg and flipping it over so not to break the yolk.

Rhiannon plays through the old radio by the fridge, mixing with the static of the fading effort of the speakers. The gravelly voice of Stevie Nicks keeping you company in the quiet kitchen. Your hands were cold on the handle of the spatula, the cool air seeping in the edges of the window that really should have been replaced in the summer.

You set the utensil down, reaching up to turn the stove dial off as you lift the pan up off of the glowing red burner. You pick it back up again, sliding it under the egg and setting it onto a plate that already held two pieces of toast and fried potatoes that were left over from dinner the night before.

The sound of running water cuts off from the bathroom down the hall, replaced instead with the scrape of the rings holding the shower curtain across the metal bar it hung from. Small thumps and a slight curse told you that Flip would be out in a few minutes.

Your movements are almost fluid with the routine that was followed almost on a daily, the bend to grab the two dishes beside the door leading to the living room, setting one on the counter as you dumped and filled the other with fresh water before setting that one down and taking the other and filling it with the dry kibble from the bag under the sink. You grab the other once more and return them to their places by the door.

The bathroom door groans in protest as it’s opened, the top of the door catching on the frame. The light is flicked off, the elongated shadow of the man you shared a home with disappearing from the hardwood floors of the hallway.

“Go get your mom.” Flip grumbles out, his voice still a few octaves deeper than his usual baritone.

With the small command, you hear the gentle clicks of nails along the floor. Moments later, the large dog that had pushed his way into the family padded into the small kitchen. His shiny brown and black coat stood out against the soft green of the walls, his deep eyes meeting yours as he approached you.

You sink down, letting him push his head into your hand. Your thumb rubs the front of his ear where the grey was beginning to come in and show Gryphon’s true age. The seven years of service in the Colorado Springs Police Department had taken a toll on his joints, his movements slowing down to a slow jog on his good days.

You stand once more, your pants releasing slightly around your thighs. Gryphon turns as Flip joins the two of you, his hair still damp and shining under the yellow glow of the light. You smile at the tall man that claimed ownership to so much space in your life, tilting your face upwards as he comes closer to you.

His lips settle on yours in a comfortable yet gentle greeting. His hand rests on your hip while yours reaches up to settle on the flannel covered bicep.

“Good morning.” You breathe, separating your lips from his.

“Morning.” He mumbles, dark brown eyes searching your face with an expression and emotion reserved only for you.

“I made breakfast.” You tell him, stepping away and turning to grab the two plates from the counter. You pass by him, setting them down onto the the table.

“As always.” Flip comments.

“As always.” You repeat, turning away and returning to the counter where two matching mugs of coffee sat waiting to be had. The steam rose from the mug and danced into nothingness through the still air of the morning. They were hot in your hand, the heat radiating from the ceramic dampening your hand with sweat.

You push one of them towards Flip, a loud groan of the unglazed bottom of the mug against the wood table echoing through the distance between you.

The moment you were both seated, Gryphon buries his muzzle into his food bowl.

It’s quiet between the two of you, very few words were spoken in the morning. It was always quiet before Flip left for work in the early shifts. It was an unarranged agreement that nothing serious was to be said, only gentle love exchanged as the sun rose over the horizon. An arrangement that kept emotions safe in case of the worst possible outcome of Flip’s profession. No arguments or harsh words before he leaves, no regrets if he didn’t come home that night.

As breakfast was finished and the last drop of coffee was gone from the mugs, Flip stood and collected the dishes, setting them in the sink.

With a quick glance to the clock, he releases a sigh and turns towards you. “I’ll do the dishes tonight when I get back.”

“It’s alright.” You respond, tucking your chair in under the table before leaving the kitchen to the front door where Flip’s holster hung from a hook beside his keys.

The leather was soft and worn in your hands, a perfect fit to Flip’s muscles as you helped it onto his shoulders and back. Your fingers worked the buckles easily, another small routine that had come about in the years you had been together.

Your fingertips trace over the leather once more as Flip reached and grabbed his keys, tucking them into his pocket before pulling on his old but well loved jacket. His lips met yours in another gentle kiss, his head tilted ever so slightly so his nose wasn’t shoved against yours.

“I love you.” He says, the sleep fading from his voice.

“I love you.” You respond with the sweetest of smiles. “Come home safe.”

“Always do.” Flip chuckles.

He straightens up, pressing his lips between your brows. His figure fades into the gentle glow of the morning, the sun barely peeking through the milky clouds.

The truck is loud as it goes down the street, fading ever so slightly as you shut the door and turn back to where Gryphon was now laying in the hall.

“C’mon old boy.” You say, grabbing the faded red leash from the hook.

~

There was nothing different throughout the day. No indication that anything was out of the ordinary. No breaking news over the radio, no distant sirens through the city.

Everything was calm, still. A reflection later on the day would give you an uneasy feeling low in your stomach. The pain doesn’t hit at first.

There’s a shock that radiates through your body at the news, words you had never prepared yourself to hear. You should have prepared yourself, even if you hoped that it would never happened, you hadn’t had the thought that Flip would lose his life on the job since the first year he became a detective. He was too good at his job to ever actually get hurt.

The team was at your door to escort you to the hospital, the captain already there to fill out paperwork for you.

There were no dry eyes, no cheeks that weren’t stained with tears.

Every stage of grief was shown as you stepped into the waiting room that was filled with dark blue uniforms. Denial, anger, acceptance. It all radiated around you. You were numb, though anxiety flew through your lungs with each breath, each step towards where Phillip Zimmerman was resting on a heart monitor.

It was already agreed, he had made the arrangements long before meeting you that he didn’t want to stay if the only thing keeping him there was a machine. There was silence as the doctor began to shut everything down, the loud beeps falling into nothing.

No words were spoken until his casket was lowered.

Teary eyed goodbyes and condolences given to you by the other wives that weren’t picturing Flip in the box, but rather their husbands instead. Gratefulness shown in their eyes when they held hands with their partners. At least it didn’t happen to them.

Gryphon wouldn’t leave your side. The dirt now covering him, his mother holding your hand as the workers left the site. Their jobs done for the day. They wouldn’t be back until spring came and they could lay sod and new grass.

He lay beside his father, long gone from age and a bad heart after years in the force. Both leaving the women who loved them more than anything else.

“It will take a long time to adjust.” His mother says softly, her voice hoarse with loss. “You’ll forget that he’s gone sometimes, you’ll set out a plate on accident, you’ll call him for dinner. You’ll cry every time. You’ll lose touch with the team. But it’s all a part of it. I love you sweet girl.”

She kisses your cheek, her tears mix with yours until she pulls away. “I’ll see you at the house.” she tells you. “Stay as long as you need, I’ll make sure everything is fine at the reception.”

“Thank you.” You whisper, squeezing her hand before letting it go.

You don’t notice her leave, or the chill that came to the air as the sun lowered in the sky. The sky darkened and your hands shook. Though you looked almost like a statue with how long and still you stood there at the base of the mound of dirt.

The stone with his name etched into it seemed too nice, too clean. Too perfect. Under his name were the dates you would now remember and dread every passing year. His photo sketched into the tan marble, his smile permanently shown for all who would pass him.

Your muscles protested as you turned away, tears gathering on your lashes as you tugged Gryphon slightly to get him to come along to the truck. Your guests were waiting for you, to share stories with you, to try to help you grieve while also coming to terms with their own pain.

[killian-whump]

In Which... Time Passes

This is the ninth chapter of my MC fic about Detective Rogers’ captivity at the hands of Mother Gothel, AKA Eloise Gardener. Previous chapters (collected in this Masterpost) have seen him suffer through abuse, humiliation, neglect, sexual assault, and outright rape. In this chapter, time passes... as he suffers much, much more of the same. Please heed the warnings.

Warnings: This story involves bondage, whump and rape. This chapter serves as a smorgasbord of injustices delivered over an unspecified period of time, and DOES involve references to rape and physical and emotional torment. There is also one specific instance of rape recollected in more detail. If any of these things bother you, please do not read this chapter.

The first time had been the worst. With each successive rape, a little more of his soul eroded away... and the pain itself grew a little duller.

It was easier when she took her pleasure from him and left him be. Harder when she made him climax, as well. Worse even yet when she tried to be 'nice' and insisted on focusing entirely on him. She'd service him with her mouth or her hands, not even taking any pleasure for herself, acting as if she was doing him some grand favor.

Yeah, it was a favor, alright - the kind of favor delivered to someone who was tied down, sobbing and begging to not have to endure it. Some favor.

At least she'd returned to feeding him the wet dog food. By no stretch of the imagination was it anything like real food, but it was practically fine cuisine compared to the hard, dry kibble she'd been giving him.

She didn't relent in any of his bindings. The blindfold stayed, bothering him less and less as he adjusted to maneuvering around blindly. The chain stayed, the friction from it breaking his skin painfully in spots. The straitjacket stayed as well, the pain in his arms having long eclipsed mere cramps and turned into excruciating torment that never abated. He was driven to periodic episodes of thrashing against the canvas jacket, the need to stretch and move his arms to relieve the pain overtaking any sense he had that such movement was impossible.

Sometimes she gagged him. The large ball gag wasn't needed to keep him silent in her presence, since he rarely bothered to speak to her. Reasoning with her was impossible, he knew, and she only ever used his words against him anyway. Still, she liked to force the ball into his mouth and buckle it around his head. She liked knowing how much he hated it, how humiliating it was and how it made his jaw ache endlessly until her return.

His grip on reality was waning. He knew there was a world out there, outside of Eloise and her torture, but he was beginning to forget what it felt like to be in it. He was beginning to believe the things she told him - that he was her pet, not worthy of being a man, not good enough to be anything more than her plaything.

She called him 'Hook' occasionally, always followed by laughter and a correction that no, he wasn't Hook, he wasn't strong enough or brave enough or man enough to be Hook. He was nothing but an impostor - a weak little nothing with Hook's face.

Rogers wondered sometimes who 'Hook' was, what made him so special... and if maybe he'd be able to better survive the nightmare his life had become if he was him. Eloise certainly seemed to think so.

She was probably right.

After all, she'd been right about no one coming for him. He'd lost track of time and had no real idea how long he'd been gone, but he was sure if anyone was going to bother looking for him, they would've found him by now.

But no one ever came.

Although that wasn't entirely true. Roni had come once, promising him that she would return for him with Weaver and other officers to rescue him. He'd believed her, of course, because Roni was good. Roni wouldn't lie to him.

Roni wasn't like her.

He hadn't told Eloise, of course. She would've done something to stop Roni, or to move him, or just plain ruin everything in some other way. That was what Eloise did, after all. She ruined everything.

So he'd waited, ever hopeful, for Roni to return. He'd known she would. Roni would. She wouldn't lie to him. She would come for him if she said she was going to.

And then, one day, she had.

The police hadn't come with her. She'd laughed when he asked her about them. "You actually believed that?" she'd said. "No, honey, the police have better things to do."

He hadn't even cared, really. Roni was there, and that was enough. She could get the straitjacket off of him. She could get him out of there. Couldn't she? Wouldn't she?

But...

But she hadn't.

"Lie down," she'd said instead. "Let me look at you." The way she'd said it hadn't seemed right somehow, but maybe... maybe she just wanted to see his wounds. Maybe that was all. Maybe...

He'd lain down, just as she'd asked him to, but then she'd started touching him. Stroking him. "N-No," he'd protested weakly. "Roni, no. I don't want you to-"

"Shhh," she'd said softly. "It's alright. You like me, don't you? We're friends."

"Yes, but..." He whined. "Roni, I don't want this. Please. I just... I just want to go home. Please..."

"But you are home, honey." She'd laughed then, the sound ringing in his ears like bells. He'd always liked her laugh. It was pure. Good.

That laugh wasn't.

"Roni, please..." He'd already begun to cry. It didn't take much any longer to make him start.

"Eloise is right," Roni had said in disgust. "You really are just a big baby. You cry over the slightest thing. That's why nobody misses you, you know. It's why no one's ever going to come for you."

"But... you're here..." A part of his brain had been screaming at him that something wasn't right, that none of it was right, but hope had a funny way of refusing to die when it was all one had left to cling to.

"I'm here to use you, honey. That's all you're good for - your cock and a good laugh at how pathetic you are."

"No," he'd said quietly through his tears.

"Yes," she'd answered simply.

He was so conditioned from Eloise's daily visits that his cock had responded quickly enough to Roni's touch. The fact that she touched him exactly like Eloise did should've rung all kinds of warning bells, but any common sense he still had at that point had been buried beneath miles of shame and betrayal.

Rogers had only cried quietly as Roni took her pleasure from him. Afterwards, he'd curled up on his side and continued to cry for several moments before speaking. "Why?" he'd asked her.

"I already told you. You mean nothing to me."

He'd shaken his head weakly. "You're not her. I know you're not her."

"Of course I am."

"She wouldn't hurt me." He didn't know what had made him so sure. He barely knew Roni, but it was something he felt was true deep in his gut - no, deeper than that. Somewhere far deeper, somewhere Eloise Gardener couldn't reach. "You're not her. Why..." He'd broken down and sobbed. "Why do you have to ruin everything?"

Eloise had at least shown the decency to drop the charade. It was her own voice that had answered his query. "Because you insist on holding on to silly ideas and hopes that anyone other than me actually cares about you."

"You don't give a damn about me."

"But you're so sure Roni does?"

"No," he'd said honestly. "But I know... she's better than you. She wouldn't do what you do to me."

"Hmmph." With that, it had seemed Eloise was done with her game for that day.

But she hadn't been done with pretending to be other people. Not by a long shot. She seemed to like to rape him while pretending to be Roni, but some days she'd show up as Tilly, Henry, or even Sabine in an effort to make him think he was being rescued, only to end up delivering a beating or some other torment whilst still under the guise of one of his friends. He didn't know how she could make herself sound exactly like someone else, but he chalked it up to whatever 'magic' she had that let her control the vines and make her blanket appear and disappear from his mattress in the blink of an eye.

Rogers didn't really know why Eloise didn't use her magical powers more often. He could only guess that there was a limit to what she could do - or maybe that she enjoyed the day-to-day tasks of looking after him like he was nothing more than her pet. She seemed to delight in everything that reminded him of his new role.

She even tried to get him to do tricks for her, though she thankfully didn't push it when he refused. It was bad enough that sometimes when he pleased her, by saying or doing whatever he was told, she'd give him treats. They were just bits of bread or sweets, and he hated himself for taking and eating them, but he was always so hungry.

He knew he was losing weight, knew his uselessly immobile arms were growing weaker by the day, but there was nothing he could do about those things. His shoulder didn't seem to be dislocated after all, though something seemed to still be wrong with it. It didn't really surprise him that he'd failed to do what he'd tried for. It seemed strangely fitting, actually. Eloise kept telling him he was a failure, after all.

Eloise had gotten rid of his bucket, replacing it with an actual litter box. She'd assured him it would be easier for him and he'd be less likely to miss it. He hated that she'd been right about that. He rarely ever had to go anything else, but Eloise was kind enough to bring him a box to do it in and to dispose of it immediately whenever he did. He hated how grateful he was for that, too.

He hated everything, really. He hated everything she did to him, everything she made him do, everything he was and everything she'd turned him into. He hated that this was his life, and he hated that he was living it.

And above all... he hated her.

[knightwingyj]

Little Do You Know Ch 3

               Why, oh why did he think it was a good idea to drink? Conner groaned as his head throbbed. His mouth was dry and stuffed with cotton balls soaked in essence of skunk. Hangovers sucked. He gracelessly flopped on his side and smashed his face into his pillow. His glorious, stupendous, fluffy, wonderful pillow that was always supportive and there for him whenever he needed something to lay on. His bed too. A shrill pierced the air and sent a white-hot ice pick through his brain. Whimpering and trying to ignore the pathetic tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes, Conner threw an arm out, hand groping the nightstand for his phone. Stupid alarm. His fingers finally found it and the shrieking was silenced. Sighing with relief, he rolled onto his back with his arm resting over his eyes. He didn’t think he drank that much last night. He only had his usual scotch. Twice…and some of Markus’…and all those shots from North’s game. Maybe he had more than he thought, and he didn’t even get his reward.

               The alarm went off a second time. Goddamn it, he thought he had turned that shit off. “Alright, shut the fuck up.” Conner growled grabbing the device and stabbing the screen with more force than necessary. He’s been spending too much time with Hank. Blessed silence. He just noticed the full glass of water on his night stand that his drunk self forgot to drink last night, along with a bottle of Advil. God bless his drunk self and he popped a couple pills and chugged the water.

               He laid back against his wonderful pillow, trying to find the will to get up for the day. He was so glad it was the weekend. He could go as slow as he wanted and not worry about being late. He was the CFO, he should be able to arrive when he damn well pleased. He really needs to stop hanging out with Hank so much. His potty mouth was getting worse. It took a lot more strength to shower, shave and dress than it should have, but he felt more rejuvenated. After brushing his teeth, twice, he deemed himself ready to take on the day. He opened his bedroom door and nearly jumped out of his skin at Conan standing in the doorway.

               “Jesus Christ, Conan! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Conner accused hand clutching at his chest.

               “Where were you last night?” Conan questioned.

               Conner’s brow furrowed at the reproachful tone in his brother’s voice. “Why do you need to know?”

               “Where you out drinking with Anderson?”

               “What I do and who I do it with is none of your concern.” He didn’t have the patience to deal with Conan’s holier-than-thou attitude today. He brushed past him and into the hallway, closing the door as best he could around a six-foot two road block.

               “It is when you chose to fraternize with the hired help. It looks bad on the rest of us.” Conner could practically hear Conan’s nose scrapping the ceiling. He whirled around and leveled Conan with a glare that made him pause in his tracks.

               “Hank is more than an employee, he’s my friend, and what I chose to do in my free time is my business. I’ve not done a single thing that could shame the family in any way. I don’t need you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re not my keeper Conan.” He hissed before marching off.

               Conan watched, a little shocked at his outburst. Conner was wrong about one thing; he was his brother’s keeper. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. “Hey, it’s me. I’ve got a job for you.”

               The headache was practically gone by the time the taxi dropped him off at Hank’s house. Hank’s old, black Buick was parked haphazardly in the driveway and Conner rolled his eyes. He was still wondering what possessed him to let this man drive him anywhere. The single-story building was unassuming with cream siding, decorative clay bricks, and a plain brown front door. He smiled. He could remember one summer during high school when Hank and he repainted the faded and peeling siding, replaced the rotting front door, and power washed the windows. They spent quite a bit of time during those years cleaning up this old house, so much so that it felt more like home to Conner than the manor.

               Turning the key in the lock, the front door opened smoothly, and Conner was greeted by a mountain of fur and a large, wet tongue. “Alright, Sumo, alright.” Conner laughed pushing the Saint Bernard off him and giving him a good scratch behind the ears. “Good morning to you too.”

               He wrestled himself passed the massive dog into the house and was mildly impress. It was a lot cleaner than the last time he was here, minus a couple of empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “You hungry boy?” Moving into the kitchen, Conner retrieve the kibble from the cabinet and poured some into Sumo’s food bowl and gave him fresh water. Sumo munched happily while Conner busied himself with the dirty dishes in the sink, giving them a good scrub and placing them in the dishwasher. An empty pizza box was tossed in the trash along with the beer bottles and the bag set by the front door to go out. He glanced in the fridge and nodded in satisfaction at the variety of foods on the selves. He wouldn’t need to go for groceries today then. A soft head nudged his leg and Conner glanced down with a chuckle. Sumo sat there with wide, hopeful eyes, leash firmly clamped in his jaws. “Ready for a walk then?” Conner asked as he grabbed the leash and clipped it to Sumo’s blue collar. “Looks like Hank will be sleeping for a little while longer. It’s just you and me then.”

               Grabbing the trash, Conner closed and locked the front door behind them. Sumo did his business quickly and waited patiently for Conner to place the trash in the garbage can. The dog tugged eagerly on the leash, drawing a laugh out of the human. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” They took off at a brisk pace, heading toward Riverside Park. It was their favorite walk destination; Sumo for all the squirrels and Conner for the calming view. Hank had introduced it to him just after they had met, and it held a lot of bitter sweet memories for the both of them. Conner found himself there more times than he could count, just to think or to get away from the pressures of high society. The park wasn’t usually crowded as many preferred the larger parks, but he was a little surprised the see it was packed.

               Since when has Riverside Park hosted festivals? He starred in amazement as rows of portable tents and inflatable bouncy houses lining the trail ways and grass. Children chased each other and dragged amused parents to different attractions. Laughter and music floated on the air accompanied by the delicious aroma of carnival food. Conner glanced down at his companion. “What do you think Sumo, should we check out the festival?”

               The Saint Bernard gave him a simple huff and wagged his tail twice in agreement. Conner nodded, “very well then,” and they started down the trail toward the center of the activity. Venders of every kind surround them on both sides. People selling trinkets. Handmade jewelry and cosmetics attracted many of the older patrons while tents containing games like ring toss and balloon pop beckoned the younger crowd. There was even a little swimming pool filled with yellow rubber ducks for the little ones.

               They were stopped a few times as a couple of people wanted to pet Sumo and the gentle giant basked in the simple affection of the pats. A familiar voice called his name and Conner turned to see his secretary, Kara, with her Husband, Luther, and their nine-year-old daughter, Alice. “Hello Kara, Luther, Alice. It’s a pleasure to see you all.” Conner greeted politely.

               “Hello Conner,” Kara said with a smile as Alice waved with an enthusiastic ‘hi’. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

               Conner shrugged. “I didn’t really expect to be here. This is were we usually come on our walks and we were a little surprised to see a festival.”

               Alice’s eyes lit up as she gazed at Sumo. “Sumo!” She ran forward eagerly and showered him with affection. Sumo preened.

               “Alice wanted to come and try the bouncy houses.” Kara explained watching Alice giggle with a smile.

               “Was it worth it?” Conner asked the girl and she nodded.

               “Oh yes. You should try it, Conner. It’s super fun!”

               The adults laughed softly at her wonder. “I think I might be a bit big for the bouncy houses, but I’ll certainly take your word for it.” Conner replied before turning back to her parents. “How are you, Luther? Zlatko treating you well?”

               Luther’s smile strained. “He’s much better, though he’s still hard to work with. There’s not much more I can do other than what I have been doing.”

               “He’s paid the overtime he owes you, yes?” Conner asked eyebrows pinched.

               Luther nodded as the tension bled out of his shoulders. “Yes, after the last incident, he wouldn’t dare to weasel his way out of paying again, not with the lawyer breathing down his neck. Thank you for that, by the way,” the large man said smile warming his face, “I wasn’t the only one he was skimping out on. That lawyer really helped to figure out there was a lot of more missing paychecks than we thought, so thank you.”

               “I’m just happy to help.” Conner eyes grew serious. “You’ll let me know if something like that happens again.”

               Luther nodded. “Of course, people deserve to be paid what their worth.”

               Conner’s smile returned. “Good, well, it was wonderful to see you all and I’ll see you back at the office, Kara. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

               “You too, Conner. Have fun.” Kara said.

               “Bye, Conner!” Alice shouted as they walked away, and Conner waved happily after her, chuckling. He was happy to know that everything had been worked out for Luther and his co-workers. His smile faded as he thought about the Zlatko situation. He would need to keep a closer eye of the man, making sure he paid his employees properly. Honest men like Luther didn’t deserved to be treated so poorly. It maybe time to let Zlatko go, getting a more reliable worker in a leadership position. Perhaps it was time to promote Luther, he had defiantly proved himself worthy with this whole fiasco. Conner could feel the smile spreading. It seemed he had something to do first thing tomorrow morning.

               He glanced around the tents when sharp eyes recognized a familiar face moving around inside a royal purple tent. His smile returned as he approached the man seated in front of a worn, paint splattered easel, face pinched slightly in concentration. “Markus.”

               Said man’s head turned towards him, eyes locking with that beautifully intense gaze. Recognition flooded them quickly and his eyes lit up. “Conner,” the sharpie in his hands was capped and set aside as he stood to greet him.

               “Working hard?” Conner asked fingers playing with Sumo’s leash.

               Markus shrugged. “It’s not really work if you enjoy it.”

               “True,” Conner moved into the tent, trying to see what was resting on Markus’ easel. “What are you working on?”

               “Oh,” Markus stepped aside to reveal a cartoon face. “Caricatures.” The exaggerated eyes and nose made Conner chuckle.

               “Magnificent,” he teased,” your best work by far, I think.”

               “Of course,” Markus smirked. He held up the permanent marker. “Care to have your likeness immortalized in sharpie?”

               Conner smiled warmly and shrugged again. “Why not?”

               Markus gestured to the empty stool directly in front of the easel. As Conner moved to sit, Markus caught sight of the animal walking beside him. “And who is this handsome fella?” He asked as he readied a clean piece of paper.

               “This is Sumo,” Conner replied. “He belongs to Hank Anderson, my bodyguard.”

               Markus raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you normally walk your bodyguard’s dog?”

               “Oh, Hank’s more than a bodyguard. He’s a good friend of mine. He used to be a lieutenant for the Detroit Police Department before switching to close personal security. He had quite the reputation in the DPD, before I managed to steal him away.”

               “Really? He sounds like an interesting person.” Markus commented as the pen in his hand glided over the page. “How did you two meet?”

               “We became acquainted when I had just turned sixteen. In a fit of teenage rebellion, a couple of my peers and I decided to have an…impromptu party at one of the old abandoned freighters at the docks. We were quite inebriated and somehow caused the ship to sink. It caused quite a ruckus.”

               Markus paused and look at him over the top of the easel. “Wait, the Jericho sinking? That was you?”

               Conner was a little perplexed at the question. “Well, it wasn’t technically me but someone I was associated with, yes.”

               “Oh man,” Markus slouched back in his chair. “My friends and I used to hangout there during high school. That’s how we got the nickname Jericrew. We came by one day and the whole area was cordoned off with a majority of the ship submerged. We always assumed the hull had finally ruptured.”

               “I suppose, in a way, it did.” Conner rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry.”

               “It’s alright. It must have been some party.” Markus commented returning to his drawing. “So, what does the sinking of the mighty Jericho have to do with you meeting Mr. Anderson?”

               “He was the arresting officer. I rode in the back of his car to the station. He sat me down at his desk as he called my mother. Once he finished, he asked if I had anything I wanted to say. I told him to lock me up.”

               Markus raised another eyebrow at him. “Why?”

               Conner chuckled. “He asked me the same thing in almost the exact same way. It was simple really. It would tarnish my mother’s reputation. Who would’ve thought the great Amanda Stern would have a deliquiate son? It would’ve caused quite a scandal if it had gotten out. It didn’t, of course. My mother has a way of sweeping dirt under the rug.

               “Hank showed up a week later to be my bodyguard. He said he was getting bored sitting behind a desk all day, doing nothing but paper work. I say it was to keep me out of trouble.”

               “That is interesting, going from a police lieutenant to babysitting a sixteen-year-old.” Markus teased.

               “I suppose that is a bit of a step down,” Conner laughed. “I like to think I keep him on his toes.”

               “It seems to me you’re a bit of a rebel there, Mr. Stern.”

               Conner grinned at Markus’ smirk. “You make me sound cooler than I am. That was a single incident.”

               “Oh, I don’t know about that. You handled your liquor the other night like a seasoned veteran.”

               “That is Hank’s fault. He’s a pretty good drinking buddy and he’s about as fascinated with my talent as you guys were. He likes to buy different kinds of alcohol to try whenever I’m with him.”

               “He sounds like an interesting character. I’d love to meet him someday.”

               “Of course, I feel he and North will get along swimmingly.” Conner added with a mischievous grin.

               Markus groaned. “Oh no, I’m not sure I could handle two Norths.”

               “It would certainly be amusing.”

               Shaking his head with an amused huff, Markus signed his name at the bottom with a flourish and capped the marker, lifting the finished product. Conner let out a surprised laugh. His features were nowhere near proportional with too big eyes and mouth on an obnoxiously large head. The size of his body reminded him of those ‘would you rather’ questions asked at parties with how small it was. Sumo was depicted next to him with similar proportions in regard to his nose.

               “I think Sumo is the best part of that whole picture.” Conner stated scratching the proud pup behind the ears.

               Markus looked at the picture again. “He does kind of steal the show a bit, but I think the other guy is handsome too.”

               Conner blinked at that comment and smiled softly. He was not flirting, stop looking so deeply into things. Markus handed him a green, cardstock folder containing the finished drawing. “Thank you very much. How much do I owe you?”

               Markus shook his head. “Me? Nothing, but if you like, you can donate to the center. Every dollar helps.”

               “Center?” Conner’s held tilted and Markus couldn’t help but compare him to a curious puppy.

               “The Youth Centers of Detroit. That’s what the fair is for. Many local businesses are participating to raise funds for the centers.”

               “Is that what you’re doing?” Conner asked with a gesture to the easel.

               “Yep,” he popped the p. “A lot of these centers are understaffed and in disrepair. Many of the kids in the city don’t have access to the fine arts unless it’s through their school and let’s be honest, what kid wants to spend their free time at school?”

               “What makes you think they would want to go to the youth centers instead?”

               “You mean besides the fact that it’s completely free? More variety. They can learn about anything they wanted. Theatre. Ceramics. Self-defense. Web-design. I even teach a couple classes during the weekdays.”

               Conner gave him an appraising look. “Markus Manfred, teaching art classes?” He teased, and Markus puffed out his chest proudly.

               “Every Tuesday and Thursday at six o’clock.”

               “I’d have come check it out sometime, see if you’re really as good as you claim.”

               “Says the guy who has my pieces ‘adorning his room’.” Markus retorted and took great pleasure in Conner’s blush.

               Embarrassed and trying to hide it, Conner pulled a fifty out of his wallet and stuffed it in the large pickle jar on a side table that was already nearly full. “I expect all new brushes and paints with that generous donation, Mr. Manfred.”

               Markus granted him a smile full of teeth. “Of course, Mr. Stern. Only the best for you.”

               Conner rolled his eyes and grinned, thoroughly enjoying their playful banter. They were only interrupted when someone else entered the tent. “You’re good to go on a break, boss.” The girl wasn’t much younger than Conner, perhaps high school or college freshman. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she wore paint stained clothes.

               “Thanks, Stacy.” Markus said moving to put his things away. “Stacy, this is Conner and Sumo. Conner, this is Stacy, one of my students.”

               Conner shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

               “Same here. He’s a great teacher.” She nodded towards Markus.

               “I’m sure he is.”

               “You should come by the center sometime and check it out. He can turn even the most hopeless cases into true artists.”

               Conner wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be offended by that comment or not.

               “Alright, Stacy. No need to over sell.” Markus interjected coming to stand next to Conner.

               “Just trying to help you out, boss.”

               “And you’re doing a marvelous job, but I think Sumo wants to get out of this stuffy tent. Right Sumo?” The Saint Bernard merely wagged his tail at the mention of his name. “Right. Hey,” Markus turned to Conner. “You ever tried a cronut?”

               There’s that adorable head tilt. “A cronut?”

               Markus’ eyes widened comically. “Oh my god, you have not lived till you’ve tried one. Come on.” Their arms brushed as they said goodbye to Stacy and exited the tent in search of the legendary pastry.

               Markus lead them straight to the right vender, who Conner suspected was a friend of the painter. Jerry handed them each a cronut and bid them adieu as they enjoyed their treat. Conner immediately fell in love with the buttery, flaky goodness, sharing a little with Sumo. “You were certainly right, warm and delectable.” Conner said throwing his trash in a nearby garbage can. Sumo huffed, tongue swiping along his lips, searching for any remnants of the sugar treat. “Even Sumo agrees.”

               “I would never lie to you, especially about food.” Markus glanced down at his watch. “I still have time if you would care to take a little stroll.”

               “I’d be honored.” Conner said with a smile.

               Markus moved closer as they began a trek through the park, barely glancing at the rest of the attractions. “So, you play the piano, capture emotions onto canvas, run a studio, teach art classes to inspire young artists, and volunteer your free time to your community. Are there any other hobbies I should know about?” Conner asked with a hint of playfulness.

               Markus bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “You make me sound more interesting than I really am.”

               “Markus, you are interesting.” Conner said sincerely. “I’ve never met someone with as much talent or dedication to their craft as you. You’re the epitome of the phrase, ‘Live life to the fullest’. It’s quite inspiring.”

               Markus’ cheeks darkened. “You keep that up and my head might explode.”

               “I’m serious.”

               “I know, and I’m flattered. I just believe that everyone deserves the right to live their lives the best that they can. Everyone deserves to be to be happy.” Markus sent a side glance to the man beside him. Speaking of… “Conner, could I ask you a personal question?”

               Conner blinked, slightly surprised. “Of course.”

               “Why did you say yes?”

               Conner’s brow furrowed. “I don’t quite understand.”

               “Your marriage. Why did you agree to it?”

               Conner froze in his tracks, Sumo coming to a stop next to him. Markus turned to look at him, eyes apologetic at asking such a forward question but making no move to dismiss it. Conner steeled himself for the conversation. His spine straightened, and eyes locked forward. He started walking again. “It was a business arrangement.”

               Markus kept pace with him. “Care to elaborate?”

               “Cyberlife is the world’s leading producers in robotics and artificial intelligence. Anything smarter than an analog clock, they’ve got their hands in. Smart phones, tablets, super computers, you name it, they’ve done it and that’s just in the last ten years. Only two people truly brought Cyberlife to the forefront of technological advances. Elijah Kamski and Amanda Stern.

               “Elijah is the brains behind Cyberlife’s inventions. His genius is unparalleled when it comes to coding and hard-ware. While he could rule the world with a few wires and some software, he’s not much of a businessman.”

               “I’m assuming that’s where your mother comes in.”

               “Amanda has been the CEO of Cyberlife through all its major accomplishments. Without her, there wouldn’t be a Cyberlife as we know it.

               But while she may be CEO, she doesn’t own any shares in the company. The Stern name has no connection to Cyberlife outside its big, glass doors and Amanda hates anything she can’t have. She feels that Cyberlife is as much hers as it is the Kamski’s.”

               “Seems like she wants to be part of the family.” Markus shook his head in disgust. “What exactly does she gain by marrying you to the Kamski’s?”

               “Power, prestige, about a third of the shares, second only to the Kamski’s.”

               “And what does the Kamskis get out of this arrangement?”

               “Amanda as CEO for the next ten years and then her apprentice for the next twenty.”

               Markus was silent as he contemplated this information. “That’s messed up.”

               “That’s business.”

               “And through all of that, you’re lost in the fine print.”

               Conner shrugged nonchalantly but Markus could see the tension in his shoulders. “You never did answer my question.” Conner looked at him confused. “Why did you agree? You’re an adult. You can say no.”

               Conner didn’t answer but his eyes darkened with so much despair that it caused a physical pain in Markus’ chest. Now he understood Conner’s connection with those paintings of his. The need to reach out and hold this man, to comfort him and protect him, was nearly overwhelming and his hand moved of it own accord. “Conner,” he started but Conner spoke.

               “It’s alright, Markus.” His voice was strong, but his smile wavered.

               No, it wasn’t alright, but Markus didn’t know how to fix it.

               “You never did answer my question either,” Conner stated breaking the tension.

               “And what’s that?”

               “What else can the Marvelous Markus do?”

               Markus chuckled slightly. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

               Conner locked eyes with him. “I suppose so.” Those deep brown eyes just seemed to pull Markus in and he was almost afraid he would lose himself in their depths.

               The moment was interrupted when Sumo let out a sudden and loud bark and jerked the leash out of Conner’s hand, leaving behind an angry sting. “Wait, Sumo! Come back!” He shouted taking off after the energized dog. Markus followed close behind and soon they were chasing Sumo through the park. Apologizing to startled bystanders, Sumo lead them out to a vacant field. Conner lunged for the animal but missed as Sumo turned at the last minute. Jumping to his feet quickly, Markus sped past him and nearly fell flat on his face when Sumo barreled into his legs.

               “Sumo, come here!” Conner called but the dog just wagged his tail, let out a ‘boof’, and dropped into a playful crouch, daring Conner to make a move. A mischievous grin was slowly making its way across his face as he stared down the Saint Bernard. “You won’t win, beast.”

               Warmth spread out from the center of his chest as Markus watched Conner play with Sumo. He looked so different from the moment before, unburdened and…happy. He chuckled quietly at Conner’s challenge. The playful atmosphere was thrumming with suspense as man and animal waited for the other to move. A small twitch toward the dog and Sumo took off like a shot. He ran straight past Markus who fingers just brushed his tail. His botched attempt nearly sent him face first into the grass again but a strong grip on his arm kept him from eating dirt.

               “Crafty, isn’t he?” Conner said with a sly smile and Markus snickered. “Go around and cut him off.”

               Markus gave him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He ran around the tree just as Conner corralled Sumo in that direction and Markus dove for him. His hand closed around the leash, “Gocha,” and Sumo slowed to a stop. Both men were breathing hard as they tried to calm their racing hearts. Markus handed the leash off to Conner.

               “Thanks.”

               “You’re welcome.” Markus replied their fingers brushing. It was then that he remembered, “Your hand.” He grabbed Conner’s right hand and turned it over, searching for the irritated rash on his palm.

               “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Conner protested but it died quickly as his hand was cradled gently in warm, calloused hands. Tan fingers brushed over smooth skin, sending a tingle through his palm. He looked up to see mismatched eyes starting at him with a look he couldn’t quite describe but sent the butterflies in him shrieking. He just knew he had to be blushing.

               “I think you’ll be alright.” Markus spoke softly, and goosebumps formed on Conner’s arms.

               The moment broke as Sumo barked and ran a circle around them, effectively wrapping the leash around their legs. “Sumo, No!” Conner cried as he was thrown off balance. His hands immediately latched onto Markus’ shoulders as leverage as Markus’ hands instinctively landed on his hips. It was futile as they both toppled over with Conner landing on top of Markus, pressing flush against him. Mortified, Conner tried to scramble off him, effectively digging an elbow into Markus’ chest and ridding him of all the air in his lungs. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Conner apologized, still wiggling. Arms wrapped around him and he froze.

               Markus let out a deep belly laugh that Conner could feel reverberating through his core and he stared, mesmerized, at the unbridled joy on Markus’ face. The grin revealed pearly white teeth and crinkled the edges of his eyes and Conner longed to run a finger over the tiny ridges. He could almost count the freckles on his nose. A black speck in the green of his left eye twinkled at him. His belly burned as he fought the desire to lean down and kiss him. He was so close.

               “It’s alright,” Markus said breaking him out of his very inappropriate musings and his face burned hotter. “Here,” Markus leaned up and Conner panicked, throwing an arm around him without thinking. The artist quickly detangled the leash from their legs and Conner slid off his lap onto the grass gratefully…and secretly disappointed.

               “Well, that was interesting.” Conner giggled a little self-conscious. Markus just grinned, eyes sparkling. The phone in Conner’s pocket buzzed and he pulled it out.

               ‘Stop stealing my dog, you plastic asshole.’

               “Well, Hank’s awake. I better get Sumo back.” He stood, holding his hand out to Markus. Fingers circled around his wrist immediately and he pulled him up, blatantly ignoring the tingling left behind as those fingers caressed the inside of his wrist and palm as they let go.

               “You seriously stole his dog?” Markus asked with a laugh.

               Conner grinned. “Only on my days off.”

               They stood there, just smiling at each other, when Conner finally backed away. “I’ll see you later, Markus.”

               “See you,” Markus replied raising his hand in a goodbye.

               Conner returned the wave and reluctantly turned his back, still grinning like a fool. He was really glad he decided to go to the festival today.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Moxie (Ben Platt x Reader) Nonplatonic

A/N: Hey y’all!!! Here it is!! I’ve been working really hard on this and I am so excited to share with you!! I have some ideas for Epilogue parts, so let me know what you think!

(Lowkey Content Warning: Dogs, Drinking, Kissing, Partial nakedness but no smut?, Slow Burn)

Word Count: 8,647

You loved your best friend Anna to death, but you couldn’t get her to understand that you were perfectly content with the way your life was at the moment.

“I’m just saying, I know people,” Anna said, leaning in the doorway of your bathroom. You rolled your eyes, reaching for the shampoo bottle from where you were kneeling at the side of the tub.

“I know you know people, I just don’t need to meet them,” you answered, looking on the floor for the pitcher you knew was around somewhere.

“I think you do, I worry about you when you’re alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have MoMo,” at the sound of her nickname, the dog you were bathing threw her face towards yours, showering you with kisses.

“Moxie doesn’t count, she can’t talk back,” Anna said pointedly.

“Don’t tell her that,” you joked, covering Moxie’s ears with your soap covered hands, “besides, we go on walks with my boss and his dog sometimes.”

“Your boss isn’t a candidate for your love life though,” Anna complained.

“Nope, and that’s ok. I’m fine with my life how it is,” you reiterated.

“You just don’t want to get hurt again. You haven’t dated anyone since Buttface broke up with you two years ago.” Your friend had a point, your previous breakup had made you wary to love again.

“Like I said, I have Moxie. She loves me and won’t leave me. Much better than a boyfriend.”

Anna rolled her eyes. 

You thought you had won the argument, since she turned her attention to her phone. You concentrated on finishing up bathing Moxie, rinsing her caramel colored coat until the water ran clean.

“You have a date tonight,” Anna said, instead of answering your request to hand you a towel.

“What?” You were shocked and surprised, really confused as to what she had planned. After mumbling a “stay” to your pup and grabbing a towel yourself, Anna finally looked up from her phone.

“You’re meeting my friend Ben at the Pizzeria tonight at 7, which means you have four hours to get ready. I’m going to pick out your outfit,” Anna turned on her heel and left you to dry Moxie. After you had thoroughly dried her fur, you put her collar back on and went to grab her leash. As you walked by your bedroom door, Anna called out to you.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking Moxie for a walk, since I won’t be able to once I’m all dressed up for this date. I’ll be back in an hour!” you hollered back. You heard Anna grumble about how you probably wouldn’t ever come back. You thought about it, but you were also interested in the kind of person Anna would attempt to set you up with. You clipped Moxie’s purple leash onto her collar, grabbed your keys, and stepped outside.

Moxie knew exactly where you were going, and led you three blocks down to the park. For it being almost 4:00 in New York City, the park was relatively empty. You found a good sized stick and threw it back and forth for Moxie, letting her run her energy out. About thirty minutes in, you threw the stick particularly far. Moxie tore after it, but before she got to the stick she saw someone walking down a path at the other end of the park. Being her friendly self, she went over to say hello. You swore under your breath, grabbing her leash and running over to where your dog was.

“I’m so sorry,” you said breathlessly, clipping Moxie’s leash back onto her collar.

“It’s alright, I chose to cut through the dog park. I’m in her space,” the stranger said. He was a young man, about your age, with full cheeks and a bright smile.

“What’s her name?” he asked, still petting her head.

“Moxie,” you answered.

“Well Moxie, it was nice meeting you. Thank you for letting me pet her!” the man said, walking away. You stared after him for a minute, then decided to head back to your apartment.

Anna was awaiting your arrival, practically throwing clothes into your arms when you got back.

“Chill out, I have to feed MoMo first,” you handed back the blouse and pants to your friend, picking up Moxie’s food dish. Only after your dog was happily eating her kibble did you go into your bedroom and put on the black blouse and grey pants.

“Hair?” you asked.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” she said from her place on your bed. You decided to leave your hair down, and dusted some makeup on your face.

“I have to catch a plane early tomorrow morning but you better call me once I’ve landed to tell me how it went,” Anna said sternly as you both grabbed your wallets and keys.

“I promise. MoMo, be good. I’ll be home later.” Moxie looked at you with perked ears and wide eyes, her tongue hanging out of her mouth off to the side. You kissed her head and gave her a scratch behind her ear before shutting the door behind you.

You parted ways with Anna on the sidewalk, giving her a hug and promising again that you’d call the next day. Finally you made your way down to the Pizzeria, a small hole in the wall pizza place that had the best pizza in New York, in your opinion. You stepped through the door at 7:00 exactly, expecting your date to be late, but as you entered a man sitting alone stood up, drawing your eyes to him. You immediately recognized him as the man Moxie had said hello to in the park earlier that afternoon.

“(y/n)?” he said, putting his hand out in an awkward wave. You approached him, and he immediately scurried around to your side of the table, pulling the chair out for you.

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, nervously pulling stray pieces of Moxie fur off of your blouse.

“I told Anna I didn’t like to go on dates with people I had never met before, she told me there was nothing to worry about. I guess she was right,” Ben chuckled.

“She is something else, that girl,” you said knowingly.

“How long have you known her?” Ben asked.

“As long as I’ve been alive. Our houses were next to each other growing up, she has always been my best friend,” you explained.

“How about you?” you tried to keep the conversation from taking an awkward pause.

Ben looked confused for a moment before answering, “Since about 2010, we worked on a movie together.”

“This is going to sound really rude, but which movie was it? I promise I’m not a jerk but I haven’t seen anything Anna is in,” you said all at once, trying to redeem yourself. Ben opened his mouth to answer but didn’t say anything as a waitress approached your table. You and Ben each ordered a slice of pizza, yours with mushroom and pepperoni, his just with cheese. After the waitress left, you turned your attention back to Ben.

“I was in Pitch Perfect with Anna. You seriously haven’t seen anything she’s been in?” He asked.

“I only watch movies with her and she never wants to watch the ones she’s worked on,” you shrugged.

“Huh, I wondered why you didn’t recognize me in the park. Pitch Perfect is a classic though, everyone should see it.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re in it?” you laughed. Ben blushed.

“No! I’m just a supporting role in the first one anyways. Hey! Why don’t you come over to my place after dinner to watch it?” he seemed sincere.

You thought for a moment about if Moxie would be ok for another few hours and decided it would be fine.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. You could see how happy this made Ben, and you felt something in your heart twinge, a feeling you had only felt a few times in the past few years. The rest of your dinner with Ben was comfortable, to say the least. As it wrapped up, he paid the bill then walked with you to his apartment.

You noticed how nervous he was as he fumbled with the lock.

“I’m sorry if it’s a mess, I’ve been in rehearsals all week and have not been home long enough to clean,” he apologized before he opened the door.

You put your hand on his arm and gave him a comforting smile, “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you said, and you could see his body language visibly relax. His apartment was not as messy as he had made it out to be, though you could see signs of vacancy. It was very much what you would expect from someone like Ben. There were a few simple decorations on the wall and some sheet music scattered on the coffee table, but that was pretty much it.

“What have you been rehearsing for?” You asked, perching on the end of his couch as he put some dishes in the sink.

“I have a role in a musical we’re trying to get to Broadway,” he said, going over to a bookshelf stuffed with movies and beginning his search for the correct DVD.

“Found it!” Ben exclaimed, sliding the disc into the DVD player and turning on the TV. He grabbed a remote and then settled onto the couch next to you.

“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket or anything?” He asked as the opening scene began.

“I’ll be fine Ben,” you reassured him. Finally as the movie really started he seemed to relax.

Ben was right, the movie was very good. Anna was fantastic and so was Ben. As you watched you realized you recognized some of the other actors from pictures Anna had posted on Instagram. By the end of the movie, you were leaning against Ben’s shoulder quite comfortably.  

“I should get going,” you said quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen after Ben turned off the TV.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked. Your first instinct was to say no. Logically it wouldn’t make sense for Ben to walk to your apartment and back again. You also usually had no problem walking around after dark when you had Moxie with you. Something about a big Staffordshire Bull terrier kept most strangers away enough that you could walk your dog without being bothered. Without her, you were a little less confident. You decided to be honest with Ben.

“Usually I’d say no if I had Moxie with me, but since I don’t I would very much appreciate it if you could,” you said. Ben’s face erupted in a smile.

Your walk home was rather quiet, both of you taking in the sounds of the city. You noticed Ben walked on your left side, between you and the street. His right hand seemed to hang awkwardly between you and you had a strange urge to reach out and grab it, though you were worried you’d frighten the poor boy. When you finally reached the steps to your apartment, you stood in tense silence.

“Thanks for a great night,” you said.

“My great night started when I met Moxie at the park,” he laughed. You chewed your bottom lip for a minute, then grabbed Ben’s hand with your own and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Without another word, you left him standing on the steps and entered your apartment building.

When you entered your apartment, Moxie was sitting patiently by the door. You grabbed her leash and immediately brought her outside to use the bathroom, apologizing to her the whole way about how late you were.

“He was amazing though, MoMo. Every word out of his mouth was kind and genuine. I’ve never met anyone like him.” As you processed the night, you found yourself unable to stop smiling, even as you laid in your bed, falling asleep with Moxie curled up at your feet.

When you woke up you had exactly seven text messages. Six of them were from Anna, asking how the date went, but the last one was from Ben.

From: Unknown

Hi this is Ben Platt from last night. Anna gave me your number I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to say I had a really great time and would love to meet up with you again today. Maybe lunch? I know a really great place and you could bring Moxie :)

You smiled at the thought of seeing Ben again, and quickly typed up a reply telling him that yes, you and Moxie would love to join him for lunch today. The next course of action was to get up and make breakfast for yourself and Moxie. Kibble for her, cereal for you. You then took her on her morning walk, telling her all about your plans for the day. When you got back to your apartment, you finally called Anna.

She bombarded you with questions and you answered them like a champ. Yes he was lovely, yes he was cute, yes you were going out with him again, no you didn’t make out with him, no you’re not dating. When her questions were satisfied, you realized you had been on the phone with her for a couple of hours and lunchtime was drawing nearer. You picked out a cute outfit for yourself, jeans and a bright t-shirt. You also chose a matching collar for Moxie, switching out her dirty everyday collar. Finally you were out the door, walking down the street towards the restaurant Ben had chosen.

It was a small cafe with a few tables outside. Ben already occupied one of them, his fingers tapping anxiously on the metal as he waited. When he saw you, he stood up. Moxie’s ears perked up towards him and she glanced up at you with a classic Moxie smile, as if she was telling you she remembered him from yesterday. Like at the pizzeria, Ben pulled out your chair for you.

“I already have them bringing water for us and Moxie,” he said proudly. Moxie settled at your feet, her eyes watching the street behind you. You bent down and scratched between her ears absentmindedly.

“So what do you do? We talked about my show yesterday but I never got to hear what you do,” he prompted.

“For now, I work in a pet store. It’s retail mostly but I get to do some dog training every now and then, and MoMo gets to come to work with me,” you shrugged.

“And after that?”

“I want to travel. I want to buy a van and travel the world with Moxie,” you said honestly.

“What’s stopping you?” He asked.

“Money. I’m paying rent and insurance and a phone bill, as well as buying groceries for myself and my dog. I’m working as much as I can but I’m going to have to be in New York for a while before I can save up enough to buy a van. But then I’ll have to pay car insurance and gas, so I’ll need to save up even more. The future is looking grim,” you said with a smile.

“I believe in you,” Ben said, and you could tell he meant it. The rest of your lunch was spent getting to know each other even better.

“Are you doing anything this afternoon?” he asked as he signed the check.

“I was just going to go home, why?” you saw Ben’s eyes light up.

“Would you like to come to the theater with me? You can meet the cast, and Moxie can come too!” He said excitedly.

“Woah, this is only the second date and you’re already bringing me home to meet your family?” you teased. Ben seemed to take you seriously, shuffling his foot on the sidewalk.

“Actually, you’re right it was dumb of me to ask I’m sorry,” his eyes were glued to the ground.

“We’d love to come meet the cast,” you smiled. Ben’s grin light up his whole face and he didn’t stop talking the whole walk to the theater.

After that afternoon, you were tangled in the life of Ben Platt. Every day after you and Moxie closed the shop you would take the half hour walk to the theater, picking up dinner somewhere along the way and sometimes stopping at the dog park. You would arrive sometime during act one, and be waiting for Ben when he came offstage during intermission. You would spend the whole evening in his dressing room, and he even kept a drawer of your clothes there so you could change after work. When the show was over, you and Ben would walk back to your apartment, and then he would walk home. It was a comfortable friendship, he loved Moxie and you genuinely cared about each other. Sometimes you would get into really deep topics on your walk home that would end with a hug on your doorstep, but never anything more. Anna always asked when you would hook up with him, but your answer was always no.

The night Ben found out Dear Evan Hansen was going to Broadway was the first night he stayed at your apartment. You had insisted he come over to have some drinks and celebrate. The two of you split a bottle of champagne, though you drank more than he did.

“How did you meet Moxie?” Ben asked, draining the last of his glass from his spot on the couch. You both had your feet up on the coffee table, with Moxie snuggled between you.

“I went through a really bad breakup and couldn’t stand being alone. I had been volunteering at the local animal shelter and fell in love with her immediately. I gave her a second chance and she gave me a second look on life. Two months later we moved to New York and haven’t looked back since,” you said, slowly stroking her fur.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m glad you found each other,” Ben said.

“Me too,” you said, quietly reflecting on the past few years. As you were thinking, you found a large yawn escaping from your mouth.

“Are you ready for bed?” Ben chuckled. You nodded sleepily, standing up. Ben stood up with you, shoving his hands in his pockets. Moxie, waking up from the movement, immediately disappeared into your bedroom to settle at the end of your bed. Ben rocked back on his heels.

“I should get going then,” he said hesitantly.

“No, you’re drunk,” you stated firmly. Ben laughed for a brief moment.

“No, you’re drunk,” he quipped.

“Don’t go,” you grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers and looking at him with round eyes. You watched as uncertainty crossed his face, then it softened.

“Ok, where can I get a blanket for the couch?” You shook your head.

“Why would you sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly good bed right here?” you asked, pointing with your other hand to your bedroom. You didn’t give Ben a chance to reply, instead just pulling him into your room. He stood by your dresser, unsure of how to proceed, until you were pulling the covers back and patting a space for him on the other side of Moxie. He turned off the light and then found his way into bed.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” He asked into the stagnant air above you. You reached out and found his hand, holding it again.

“I feel sad when I’m drunk but I feel happy when I’m with you,” you mumbled, eyes closed. You felt Ben shift, before a pair of lips was pressed quickly into your forehead.

“I’m always here for you, drunk or not,” he said. You settled deeper into the mattress and fell asleep still holding his hand.

When you woke up, you were curled into Ben’s side with an arm draped across his abdomen. He was still asleep, breathing slow and evenly. Moxie was curled up on the floor, and you were definitely not wearing pants.

You sat up slowly, trying not to wake up Ben, but you were unsuccessful.

“Where are you going?” he asked, sleep still in his voice.

“Where are my pants?” you responded to his question with a question of your own, nervous of the answer. Ben just chuckled to himself.

“At some point you woke up and decided your pants were too uncomfortable to sleep in. I asked if you wanted to put something more comfortable on but you just took your pants off and went back to sleep. Nothing else happened,” he reassured you. You rolled your eyes at your drunk self.

“That’s why I don’t drink too often. Nobody can handle me when I’m drunk,” you joked.

“I didn’t have too tough of a time,” Ben said.

“I forced you to sleep in my bed with me. You could have said no, you know.”

“What if I didn’t mind?” Ben posed his response as a question. Luckily, your uncertainty of how to respond was broken by Moxie jumping on your bed. Her whole body was wiggling and she kept licking your face in excitement.

“Ok, ok, I’ll get breakfast ready. I just have to put pants on,” you told her, sliding out of bed. You threw on a pair of shorts, then headed out into the kitchen. As you opened the cabinet to get Moxie’s breakfast out, Ben joined you in the kitchen and immediately started pulling things out of your fridge and cabinets.

“What are you doing?” you questioned as you put Moxie’s bowl down for her.

“Making breakfast,” he said nonchalantly.

“Can I help?” you asked, watching your dog lick her bowl clean.

“Nope, go take Moxie for her walk, I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re back,” Ben said proudly. You shrugged, attaching Moxie to her leash and taking her outside.

When you got back, Ben had set the table and put out fruit, eggs, and toast.

“You are an angel,” you said, hanging up Moxie’s leash and sitting down while Ben poured juice into a cup for you. He then sat down across the table from you, pushing a bowl of strawberries and blueberries towards you.

“So, um, I’m flying out to LA today,” Ben said, his eyes trained on you to gauge your reaction.

“That’s cool, what are you doing?” you asked, still piling food onto your plate.

“Just having a meeting about a TV thing, I’m only going to be gone for two days.”

“That’s awesome!” you grinned. Ben seemed less happy.

“Can you come with me?” he asked. Your fork stopped halfway between your plate and your mouth.

“I would if I could but I can’t afford to leave Moxie for two days,” You said. Ben looked crestfallen.

“I’ll still be here when you get back though, I’m not going anywhere,” you attempted to cheer him up, and it seemed to work.

“We are so hanging out when I get back,” he said, and you thoroughly agreed.

Two days without Ben was a lot harder than you thought it would be. You called Anna instead of going to the theater, though all she did was tease you about liking Ben (an accusation you denied).

On the day Ben was supposed to come home, Moxie was passed out on the floor of the store due to the longer walks you had been taking to fill up the time you would normally be spending with Ben. As you were cleaning the glass of the fish tanks at the back of the store, you heard the jingle of the bell above the front door.

“Hi may I help you?” Your boss, Ryan, asked.

“I’m just browsing,” you heard a voice say. It sounded like Ben’s but that would be impossible, considering his flight wasn’t even landing until you were out of work.

“Excuse me, do you know if that dog in the front is for sale?” You heard from behind you. You spun on your heel in anger, but instead threw yourself in a hug at the person who had caught your attention.

“I thought you weren’t landing until later,” you said into Ben’s shoulder.

“I was able to catch an earlier flight and I decided to surprise you,” he said happily.

You were speechless.

“Can you come over to my place for dinner after?”

“Of course, I get off at six,” you said, barely able to contain your happiness. Ben squeezed you a little bit tighter before letting go. You resumed cleaning the fish tanks, hearing Ben and Ryan talking quietly for a moment before the bell above the door rang again and Ben was gone.

“So that’s your boyfriend?” Ryan wandered into the back, an eyebrow raised and his dog at his ankles.

“He’s not my boyfriend, just my friend,” you clarified.

“Seems like you were really happy to see him,” he observed.

“He’s been gone for a few days and I wasn’t expecting him,” you defended.

“Did you greet your friends from school like that when you didn’t see them over the weekend?” you gave Ryan a strong side eye.

“This is different.”

Ryan ‘Hmmm’-ed his uncertainty, but left you alone for the rest of your shift. When you finally clocked out, you found yourself walking quickly towards Ben’s apartment. You bolted up the steps as fast as you could, finally giving a few quick taps of your knuckles on his door before letting yourself in. The apartment was dark, but the dining table was illuminated by four large candles and you could see your favorite dinner already laid out. Ben came out of his bedroom, two brown bags in his hand and some clothes draped over his arm.

“Hi,” he said happily, putting the bags down on the table and handing you the clothes. You noticed he was in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I hope you don’t mind wearing my clothes but I figured you would rather wear my clothes than your work clothes,” he said. How this boy knew you so well was lost to you. You unclipped Moxie’s leash, then went into the bathroom to change. Ben wasn’t much taller than you, so his clothes fit you relatively well. He had also given you a t-shirt and sweatpants to wear. When you emerged from the bathroom, Moxie was happily eating from a food dish.

“I realized I didn’t have dinner for her so I asked your boss what food she ate and bought some, along with some bowls. I also saw this when I was leaving the store and just had to buy it for her,” he said, handing you one of the brown bags. Inside was a leather collar with pink accents.

“It’s perfect,” you said, calling Moxie over to you and replacing her old collar with the new one.

“She’s beautiful,” Ben said with a smile, “I couldn’t just get something for her though, so I got something for you as well,” he handed you the other bag. Inside was a bottle of wine and looped around it, a necklace. The necklace had a pendant with mountains and trees, with the word ‘Wanderlust’ engraved on the back.

“Ben…” you managed to get out, taking apart the clasp and handing it to him wordlessly. Ben clipped it around your neck, gently moving your hair out of the way.

You turned around to face him, and brought a hand up to caress his cheek.

“I missed you,” you said honestly.

“I missed you, that’s why I made dinner,” he said cheerily. You both went back over to the table, Ben pulling your chair out for you before pouring the wine into glasses.

“This is amazing,” you told him during your meal.

“You’re amazing,” he said, making you blush.

“I mean it, you work so hard for almost no reward, yet you keep going. You deserve someone making you dinner every once in a while,” he said. You both stayed up much longer than you should have, finally washing the dishes in the early hours of the morning. You weren’t feeling tired though, just dancing around the kitchen with Ben, singing show tunes.

“Looks like MoMo put herself to bed,” you chuckled, seeing Moxie curled up at the end of Ben’s bed.

“Shall we go join her?” he asked, putting a hand on the small of your back and gently guiding you towards the bedroom. You found yourself easily in his bed, curled into his side like you were meant to be there.

You woke up with a start in the middle of the night, sitting up abruptly. Ben was laying on his stomach, but still stuck a hand out to gently rub your back.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Weird dream, gonna get water,” you said into the darkness. You stood up, stepping over where Moxie was sleeping. Hearing your footsteps, she awoke and followed you into the kitchen, settling on the couch next to you as you sat and sipped your water.

About a half an hour later, you finally made your way back to Ben’s bed. As soon as you were under the blankets, he immediately pulled you closer towards him.

“Missed you,” he mumbled. You chuckled slightly, resting your head on his shoulder and nodding off.

When you woke up again, it was light out. Specifically, it was 10:00 am and Ben was nowhere to be seen. You went out into the kitchen, noticing a mug of coffee and a note on the countertop.

(y/n)- Taking MoMo on a walk to get breakfast, enjoy the coffee I’ll be back soon

-B

You sipped the coffee graciously, sinking on the couch wrapped in a blanket. That’s how Ben found you when he came back, Moxie immediately bolting over to you.

“How was she?” you asked.

“She was so good! I don’t have much experience walking dogs but she didn’t give me any trouble,” Ben said happily, handing you a bagel.

“Did she pull on the leash? I’ve got her heel pretty good but she’s been having trouble generalizing the cue,” you explained.

“She didn’t pull at all,” Ben shrugged. You put your hands up in a silent victory, a grin stretching from ear to ear.

“So while I was out, I got a date for opening night on Broadway,” Ben said slyly.

“How long?”

“We preview November 14th and open December 4th, will you come to opening night?”

“Only if you’ll come dress shopping with me. We both have today off, right?” Ben’s grin matched the size of yours.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Everywhere.”

You did indeed go everywhere to look for a dress, but you couldn’t find one classy enough for a Broadway event that was in your price range.

“Please, (y/n),” Ben asked again for the thirteenth time.

“I can’t let you for moral reasons,” you answered.

“Let’s at least go try it on,” he bargained.

“I’ll try it on, fall in love, and then lose my house because I can’t pay rent,” you deadpanned.

“Please,” Ben begged one more time.

“Fine,” you said, giving in and letting him pull you into the store you had been standing in front of for the past five minutes.

“She’d like to try on the dress in the window,” Ben said immediately to one of the employees. The girl took you into a dressing room, then handed you the dress in your size. You put it on, and as you expected it fit like a glove.

“Let’s go show your boyfriend,” the employee said, noticing your delight. Before you could correct her, she had opened the curtain to let you walk up onto a platform surrounded by mirrors on one side. Ben was sitting on a couch, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“It’s perfect,” he said, watching you twirl in front of the mirror. You turned to face him, your eyes sad.

“It’s perfect, but I can’t afford it. Another time,” you said gently, going back into the dressing room and changing back into your clothes. You thanked the employee helping you then turned to leave, but Ben wasn’t on the couch anymore. Instead, he was at the front desk, taking his card back from the employee there.

“What are you doing?”

“Somebody had to buy you that dress, if it wasn’t going to be you it’s going to be me,” Ben stated.

“At least let me pay you back,” you pleaded as you left the shop, dress in hand.

“Ok, only when you can though, no rush,” he gave in.

In the end, you were grateful that you were able to wear such a beautiful dress on opening night. You left Ben in his dressing room, an usher bringing you out to your seat. Sitting next to you was a girl with dark hair, one you recognized from photos around Ben’s apartment.

“You must be (y/n),” she said as soon as you sat down, “I’m Beanie. Ben and I grew up together.” She extended her hand towards you.

“Hi,” you greeted her. You chatted with Beanie for a while before the show started, deciding that you liked her well enough. She told you a few funny stories about Ben as a kid, and you told her about the time you were spending with him.

To say the show was emotionally moving would be an understatement. You had heard most of the music from the dressing room in the past, but it was nothing like seeing the acting with it. By intermission there were tears streaming down your face, mostly out of pride for your friend. The second act didn’t leave you in any better of a state, and by the time Ben was taking his final bow of the night you were still a blubbering mess. You were able to gather yourself enough to bid goodbye to Beanie and go backstage where you met Ben in his dressing room. Ben’s eyes lit up when he saw you.

“So you liked it?” he asked. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Instead, you just hugged him tightly.

“So there’s an afterparty tonight. You’re coming with me, right?” You hesitated for a moment, thinking about your responsibilities with Moxie before remembering you had boarded her for the night.

“Of course,” you said with a pleasant grin. Ben looked relieved, as if he had expected you to say no. He grabbed your hand, pulling you into the group of his cast members as they all headed out to the venue.

As soon as you made it through the door, Ben pulled you towards the bar.

“We’re doing celebratory shots. What’s your drink of choice?” he asked.

“Tequila,” you grinned. The bartender brought you both your shots, and you and Ben clinked your glasses before downing the alcohol. Right after, Ben was immediately pulled in a thousand congratulations. As he got dragged away into different conversations, he looked worriedly back at you.

“I’ll be here, go have fun,” you mouthed with a smile. Ben gave you a giant grin and a thumbs up in return.

You ended up in conversation with Rachel Bay, with her sitting at the bar next to you.

“So?” She raised her eyebrows at you as your conversation about your job subsided.

“So what?” you asked, sipping down the last of the drink you had ordered.

“Have you told Ben you like him yet?” She asked.

“What are you talking about?” you tried to brush her comment off.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’ve known him long enough, it’s ok to admit it to him and yourself,” she said.

“We met on a date though, wouldn’t that insinuate that we have romantic feelings for each other?” You asked.

“With that boy? He’s too sweet for his own good. If he has the slightest doubt he would lose your friendship by telling you how he felt he will keep it to himself.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m scared of the same things. I don’t even know if I like him that way,” you said.

“You’ll figure it out honey, just don’t push him away in unintentional denial, ok?” Rachel said, patting your knee as she stood up.

“I promise,” you said with a smile. Alone again, you scanned the crowd for Ben. You finally found him sitting in a booth, his arm around Beanie. Seeing him sit so close to her sent a pang to your stomach that you knew wasn’t from the alcohol. The jealousy confused you. He wasn’t your boyfriend, you shouldn’t feel jealous that he’s talking to another girl. In order to distract yourself, you ordered another shot from the bartender.

You downed a few more shots before a song came on that you couldn’t resist dancing to. Your hands were in the air and your hips were moving as you made your way to the middle of the dance floor.

“It’s the freaking weekend baby I’m about to have me some fun,” you yelled along with the music. Some of Ben’s costars came to dance with you, swaying their hips with you. As Laura spun you around, you forgot about Ben. The alcohol allowed you forget him until the song finished and you went back to the bar to get another drink. Ben was sitting in the chair that you had occupied for most of the night, facing you with a smile. You leaned up on the counter next to him, and raised your hand for the bartender.

“No you don’t,” Ben slurred slightly, slipping an arm around your waist and gently tugging you closer to him.

“Why not?” You pouted.

“It’s almost time to go home,” he said, nodding to the clock that showed it was almost 2 in the morning.

“You’re going home with Beanie though,” you responded quietly. Ben laughed his loud, contagious laugh.

“No I’m not, silly,” he said.

“You are! I saw you with your arm around her. You’re in love with her.” You told him.

“I love Beanie, but I’m not in love with her. And I’m not going home with her because I’m going home with you,” he said. You closed your eyes with a smile and leaned into his side.

“What are you waiting for then?” you asked, eyes still closed.

“You,” he laughed, standing up. He took his arm out from around you and intertwined your fingers with his instead. As you left the bar and started walking back to Ben’s apartment, you realized that Ben was almost as intoxicated as you were. The two of you laughed your way down the sidewalk, making jokes and puns about almost everything you passed. When you finally got back to Ben’s apartment, you were definitely ready for bed.

You stood in the kitchen sipping a glass of water while Ben changed into his pajamas. He padded back into the kitchen in bare feet, wrapping his arms around you in a hug from behind.

“I left you some clothes out if you want,” he said quietly. You nodded, but made no indication that you were about to move. After a few minutes of Ben just holding you in silence, you finally went into his bedroom to take off your dress. You managed to get the t-shirt Ben had left out for you on, but decided you didn’t want any other clothes. You opened the bedroom door for Ben, then climbed into bed.

“Not gonna put these on?” Ben asked, putting the sweatpants onto the dresser.

“Nope,” you answered. Ben chuckled to himself.

“Tequila makes her clothes fall off,” he half-sang to you. You laughed along with him. Ben finally turned off the lights and joined you under the covers, his body instantly warming your cold skin.

“How many drinks did you end up having?” he asked, adjusting his position.

“Six shots, two drinks,” you answered, having kept a careful count.

“Jeez (y/n), no wonder you’re drunk,” he said.

“I’m drunk because I was jealous,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“Jealous of what?” Ben asked calmly.

“Just jealous,” you said. You turned away from Ben, indicating the conversation was over. You felt Ben scoot closer to you, molding his body to fit next to yours and draping an arm over your side.

“I’m sorry that you feel jealous, but I promise that you don’t have to,” Ben said quietly into your shoulder. You would have answered, but you found yourself falling asleep in the comfort of his arms.

In the next few weeks, you found yourself spending more time at Ben’s apartment than your own. You justified it by saying his apartment was closer to the dog park and your work, but every day after Ben’s show ended Rachel would ask if you were going back to Ben’s apartment with a knowing smile.

One evening, you were cooking dinner for yourself and Ben, aggressively dancing and acting out different show tunes in his kitchen. Moxie eyed you from her favorite spot by the window, probably thinking you and Ben were weirdo humans. Ben had a couple of days off from the show, and was on vocal rest during that time so you were doing all of the singing. After dancing around to ‘America’ from West Side Story and doing different voices for each person, you were standing in your final pose, breathing heavily, with a giant smile plastered across your face. Ben looked at you with a sparkle in his eye, then scribbled something on the small white board he had been using to communicate with you.

Move in with me.

You immediately noticed that it wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Your eyes flickered up to meet Ben’s again before nodding vigorously.

“Sure,” you breathed. Ben launched himself at you in a hug, making you laugh.

“I’m only agreeing because my lease is up next month and you already made the pet deposit so that I wouldn’t get in trouble for bringing MoMo here,” you teased. Ben nodded enthusiastically, scribbling a whole bunch of logistics about helping you move onto his white board.

When moving day arrived all of those logistics came into play, including the entire cast helping move boxes from your old apartment into the one you now shared with Ben. Your routine felt easier getting to live with him for real, having your whole wardrobe to pick from in the morning and being able to cook together. Ben wasn’t the best chef, but he also wasn’t terrible and he really tried to not let you do all of the cooking. Personally, you loved getting to go grocery shopping with him. You would push the cart down the aisles, telling him which things off of your list to grab. You were convinced that one day you would be kicked out of the grocery store because of all of the antics the two of you engaged in while shopping, but that day was yet to come. One day, while you were deciding which bagels to get for breakfast, Ben got a notification on his phone. You noticed him go silent and when you glanced up at him you saw the furrow growing between his eyebrows.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, grabbing the blueberry bagels you knew were Ben’s favorite.

“They want me to go back to LA,” he said, nose still in his phone.

“For how long?”

“At least a week, maybe more,” he said, and you felt your heart drop. After moving in with Ben you felt like your relationship was going somewhere and you were coming to terms with how you felt about him but he didn’t know yet. If he went to LA for a long period of time he may meet a pretty California girl and leave you alone in New York.

“(y/n)?” Ben called you out of your spiral.

“Huh?” “I said they want me to do some interviews about Dear Evan Hansen,” Ben repeated. You tried your best to be happy for him.

“That’s fantastic. You’re going, right?” you asked. He seemed to hesitate.

“You really wouldn’t be able to come this time, would you?” he asked. You shook your head sadly.

“I can’t leave Moxie for that long. I can’t leave work for that long. I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“I don’t want to leave you for that long,” Ben said. Your heart skipped a beat in the dairy aisle.

“Benjamin Platt this is an incredible opportunity,” you snapped, “you should go, I’ll be ok.”

Ben asked you if you were alright with him going to LA every day leading up to his departure. Even as you were in a cab to the airport, he asked again.

“Yes Ben,” you laughed it off, “I’m going to do what I did last time and work a whole bunch. I can maybe take a day off when you get back and we can do something special.” Your words seemed to reassure Ben, because he didn’t ask about it again all the way to the airport.

At the airport, Ben checked his bag and got his ticket. Then came the part you were dreading, the part where you had to say goodbye. Ben looked you up and down, a soft smile coming to his face.

“Give Moxie some extra treats while I’m gone, since I won’t be home to sneak her any when you’re not looking,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“I thought I had been going through treats extra quickly,” you chuckled, “don’t get corrupted by show biz while you’re out in California,” you teased. Ben laughed, “I’d prefer New York to California any day.” He stepped towards you and pulled you into a hug. You held him tightly. When you pulled apart the thought of him kissing you crossed your mind for a moment, but you hesitated just long enough for the tension in the air to form.

“I should get to work, have a safe flight,” you said, resting your hand on his cheek before turning away.

You started walking away.

You felt a single tear slip down your cheek.

And then, through the bustle of the airport, you heard him call your name.

“(y/n)!” you turned around, and Ben’s lips were on yours in an instant.

Kissing Ben was everything you could have wanted it to be. He was gentle, but the passion he felt was evident. The kiss was so mesmerizing that you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of JFK.

As soon as you broke apart for air, Ben started rambling.

“I couldn’t let you leave without doing that, I’m sorry, I should have asked if it was ok first, you probably don’t even like me like that and now I’ve made you late for work, I’m so-“ you cut Ben’s off with a sweet kiss.

“There, now we’re even,” you said smugly. Ben’s eyebrows were still raised in shock.

“Now I really don’t want to leave,” he said. You laughed, pushing his shoulder gently.

“Go,” you said, “I’ll be here when you get back.” This time Ben listened and you watched him walk away. When he got into the security line, he turned and blew you a kiss. You caught it and stuck it in your pocket before turning to go back outside. This time, you walked away with a smile instead of tears.

Going to bed without Ben was not something you expected to be your biggest problem while Ben was away. Your shared apartment seemed to grow bigger and emptier without Ben’s offhand singing and laughing and smiling and goodness gracious you missed him so much. Even with Moxie laying in bed with you, happily taking up the space your body usually did as you slept on Ben’s side, you had a very hard time falling asleep. At 11:30pm, you had almost given up when you got a text from Ben.

From: Ben

Made it to my hotel!

You were about to reply when you got another text from Ben. This time, it was a video of him standing in his hotel room. You played it, turning the volume up. In the video, he was singing ‘Maria’ from West Side Story, but he had replaced Maria with your name. Watching him sing so beautifully and strongly made your heart soar. Your favorite part of the whole thing was when he sang the lyric “I’ve just kissed a girl named (y/n)”. From that point on, he had an infectious grin that spread onto your face. At the end of the song, Ben leaned really close to the camera and said really quickly, “I’m trying to beat the jet lag and all I can think about is getting to kiss you again when I get home. Miss you, can’t wait to see you, goodnight!”

You had no words to respond to the beautiful gift of a video that Ben had just sent, but you eventually settled on a few texts.

To: Ben

You are amazing

To: Ben

I don’t deserve you

To: Ben

Get home soon so I can kiss you

Ben sent back a couple of heart eyes emojis, but you didn’t see them until you got up to feed Moxie in the morning, having fallen asleep with your phone in your hand.

Like you told Ben, you worked the whole time he was gone, open to close. Ryan expressed his concern for you over working yourself, but you assured him that you would take a day off when Ben came home. You called Ben most nights after your walk with Moxie, and you found it adorable when Ben would talk to Moxie over the call causing her ears to perk up and her head to tilt at the sound of his voice.

Finally, the day that Ben was coming home was upon you. You made a big sign, with just the three letters of his name on it. While you were painting, Moxie came over to investigate and ended up decorating the sign with her paw prints. After you washed her feet, you gave her a peanut butter filled bone and went outside to hail a cab.

You anxiously waited at the terminal for Ben, the sign feeling heavier and heavier with every passing minute. Part of you was nervous about if Ben still wanted to be with you. While he was gone you hadn’t really talked about the kiss you had shared, and you were fearful that something had changed in the week and a half that he was gone. Part of you knew it was a dumb worry, but it was a worry all the same.

All the worry faded away as soon as you saw him. As his eyes met yours, a grin engulfed his whole face. It seemed like it took him ages to close the gap between you but in reality it was probably only two minutes.

As soon as he got to you, his arms were around you.

“I missed you so much,” he said into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” you replied. Ben pulled back so that he could look at your face, though he kept his arms around you. He smiled even wider before peppering kisses all over your face. He then planted one on your lips, strong, sweet, passionate.

“Please be my girlfriend,” he practically begged when you broke apart.

“Only if you take me on a date to the Pizzeria for lunch,” you teased. Ben nodded eagerly.

“Can we please? I’m starving!”

You laughed, taking his hand as you walked towards the street, “Anna’s gonna give me the biggest ‘I told you so’ when she finds out.”