#the vet told me the only other time she had ever seen a cat with a torn ccl was when a stray had been KICKED BY A DEER

[depresseddepot]

me: hey so one of the three cats has diarrhea but I need to figure out who. can you keep an eye on your cat, because he only really comes down here to use the litter box so I can't watch how he's acting like I can the others

my mother: wh.......huh........... .? "keep an eye on him"...........i mean............ill try.......how am i expected to do that......................do i just "look" at him.....?. "pay attention to him..?"......i don't think i can do that.......... .you're being so fucking dramatic actually. this fork becoming dirty after i ate using it is your fault too

[foldingfittedsheets]

I got Leeloo when she was seven weeks old. The owner lied, or miscounted, and I got her a week too young. She was pretty well adjusted for all that, feisty and fierce as a kitten. I got her right as my ex and I were splitting. She was only a month or two old when we broke up. It was pretty wretched, finals week at college, both of us heart sore, and then we both came down with the mother of all coughs.

He was sleeping on the couch. I offered to share my cough suppressant and he set it on the table. We weren’t used to having a kitten under foot yet.

I was brushing my teeth when I glanced out the door and saw one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen, my beloved kitten on her side seizing, the pill capsule punctured and empty beside her. He burst into panicked tears when I shouted and I practically shook him to get in the car while routing to an emergency vet.

We sat clutching each others hands in the waiting room. Neither of us had known who would get the kitten in the breakup. But sitting there, both of us sobbing, he said it should be me. The doctor told us she had a fifty fifty shot of pulling through. She’d almost asphyxiated, her tongue was blue when we’d gotten her in the door.

After what felt like centuries they came out and said she’d made it. She was going to live.

It was only a few months later that I noticed her not walking around. She barely played anymore. I took her to the vet again and they said she was just constipated and didn’t follow up. Another pestering a week later led to closer examination of her X-rays. Turns out, the asphyxiation had led to a very narrow blood vessel leading to the head of her femur dying. So her bone had snapped off in the joint.

Horrified at the amount of pain she must have been in I got her in for surgery to remove the bone fragment. In a human we’d stop being able to walk, but cats have enough muscle to overcome a simple thing like lacking the ball for their ball and socket joint.

The surgery was a shit show. They called me after putting her under anesthesia and cutting her up open only to realize they were missing a tool. Then they sent her home with an open wound instead of stitches and I had to bring her back yet again to go under and get stapled shut. Then they tried to charge me for all their fuck ups while I was already sobbing over vet bills.

I had a loft bed at the time. Usually she climbed a cat tree to join me in bed at night but after her surgery I made a nest on the ground so I could cuddle with her every night. Her dopey little face looking at me from her cone was worth my back hurting every day.

I felt so bad watching her try to eat with a cone that I hand fed her every meal. To this day she’ll go sit by the food dishes, looking at me longingly to remind me of my little nest on the ground where I’d hand fed her.

That was a decade ago. But she still remembers.

Today I got her new medicine for her horrible cough, fretting about her lungs collapsing. I lovingly rolled each pill and brought them to her an hour early because I couldn’t stand having medicine on hand that I wasn’t giving her.

It was only after she’s happily eaten her pill pockets that I remembered the pills saying to give them with food. So I walked back upstairs and stood beside the cat bed while she ate from my hand again, and when she was done she looked at me with love. Because she doesn’t feel good but I’m still here to hand feed her.

[sentimentalmachine]

I'm so heartbroken. My brother's cat died today. I loved that cat so much and my brother loved him even more. He was only 8. He was such a sweet guy. I haven't seen him in so long and now I never will. We were supposed to have a family Halloween party today but my brother didn't make it because he was taking the cat to the emergency vet. I didn't know until I got home and saw facebook what the outcome was. I really wanted it to be that he would be ok, not gone. Ever since my cousin very unexpectedly died a few months ago, we all decided we needed to make more effort to see each other. We all regretted how little we had seen him these past several years with him living overseas. So my other cousin, his brother, put together this Halloween party. The only time I've seen him since before covid was at the funeral and memorial when we were focused on other things. But today the first thing he said to me was "is everything ok, you're looking really frail" and that kind of broke my heart. Because it's really the first thing people notice about me now. I knew I was looking frail, but hearing so many people point it out lately hurts. I'm just a frail sickly old lady now, and that's all anyone sees when they look at me. People at doctors and physical therapy talk about how tiny I am, how I have no substance to my body as if pointing out the obvious is supposed to do any good? I've tried so so hard to become well these past few years but this year more than any other time of my life the sickness just shows on me like flashing red lights. And no one can find out why and nothing makes me better and I'm trying everything I possibly can and going into so much debt it scares me but nothing helps and sometimes I just get so tired of trying I don't want to even try anymore. I had to get a mammogram this week to recheck this suspicious spot they have been keeping an eye on, the lady who administered it was so concerned about my appearance and loss of tissue since my last scan. I told her I'd been sick and hadn't been able to gain weight and she just looked at me with this sad worried look and in a sad worried tone said "you can't gain any weight"? and I just shook my head. Thankfully for the first time in years my scan was all clear though so at least I don't have to get another one for awhile. But it was just another incidence of how horrible I must appear to others. People who don't know me. It's not just in my head anymore. It's real and it's out there. And I don't understand why I can't gain weight. I've always been able to gain weight. (except in 2013/14 when I was recovering from a difficult surgery) I never thought I'd reach middle age and be tiny and frail, this is the time of life women usually put on weight. It makes no sense. Then my GI visit was so bad he thinks it's just IBS. Despite all my symptoms and how sick I look, despite IBS shouldn't affect your weight, make your stomach swell and bleed, suddenly be allergic to things you were never allergic to, loss of muscle and so much more. I BEGGED him to at least test me for sibo, but he doesn't think it could possibly be that. And maybe it's not but it's something they haven't checked for and is easy to check for but I'm pretty sure he just thinks I'm crazy. He actually bulged his eyes out when I told him I just wanted to be able to eat more types of food and gain weight, as if it was some unreasonable thing to want. I like my 2 physical therapists a lot though, they recognize how bad my condition is and are trying hard to help me improve. But I haven't been making any improvements and I'm scared they are going to have to dismiss me. My main PT person assures me that it will take a very long time to see improvements with how bad my condition is but since I can't find someone who will even try to find out exactly what causes me to be in this horrible condition will it even be possible to improve with any amount of time?

[ciarashoggoth]

A Report! From Inside The Walls of Mallmart

The vets said he had cancer, and so I took him to a different veterinary clinic, only to get the same answer. That we could make him comfortable until the end comes. As much as I want to stay by his side, as much as he curls into the gaps of my life where things are lacking, purring with unconditional love- I have to go to work. The storm overhead is cracking with bursts of light in the sky, setting Okaloosa County ablaze, and I think to myself about past conversations with friends. 

"You could tell me the sky is green, and if you sounded confident enough I might just have to believe you."

"Sometimes it is, have you ever been out after a huge storm?"

I could will myself to bend reality in my head, just for a week. I'll tell myself that this whole cancer thing has just been a bad, bad dream. That's easier said than done though. Things like this, it's easy to ruminate on. Things like thyroid cancer, and the fact it can bleed into other parts of the body, like the lymph nodes. Things like the procedure that would be done on a cat to remove a tumor in his nasal cavity, and what quality of life awaits after. As the rain pours down, I climb into the car to begin that long ride to work, because this is the story of a Mallmart Associate.

"Hurricane season is picking up, so be sure to buy-" The overhead cuts out to static, and someone has the common sense to call on overhead to cut out the audio. "Ugh, this weather literally sucks." Aiden groans, scanning the labels on the topstock shelf. "At the very least, the lack of customers in the store will give us room for a major overhaul. I'm looking to cover a lot of ground today in matters of prepping for summer merchandise so you better keep up, Gossman." Aiden had a tendency towards wanting to do the bare minimum once he got to the store and I really didn't understand it. He says he has no other option but to work here and yet there he sits, canning the same shelf for the last 20 minutes. "We aren't going to cover this department in time with you lagging. Why don't you move ahead and I'll deal with-"

"Thank you!" He was already climbing down from his ladder, and moving his cart out of the aisle. "Hey Mickie! Ciara said we can take break early 'cause she's got it covered!" I watched on in a bit of shock as they rolled off out of my vision, far down into the aisles and off to the break room. "Didn't even fight me on it…" I muttered weakly under my breath. In truth I did end up plowing through it in time, possibly faster than it would've gone with Aiden scanning the same shelf, yet I still felt we were behind.

And if we were behind,

We would have points deducted.

There was no way in hell I was letting anyone end up on the chopping block when we were so close to perfection. We were so close to meeting our goal, and as long as we made it there, we'd be safe from possible termination. So when I saw we had only two carts left towards the end of the day, I offered to take the one that was filled to the brim, while Leah took the near empty one. For one, I could feel more in control of whether the stock got out to our main sales floor. Also, it had been a long day. We had been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and morale was low. Leah would probably much rather prefer the near empty cart to deal with. At least, that's what I reasoned with myself. "Hey Leah, let's make quick work of this, I'll take the larger cart, okay?" And at this, she grinned and nodded. 

Truth be told, this cart was poorly put together. There was an odd mix of stock from multiple departments, something that was not supposed to be done because it's seen as inefficient. I would be racing against the clock, it seemed. That was okay though. When your back is against the wall and you have little room for imperfections, that can give you the opportunity to flourish and rise against the odds. I've seen it before in those old school movies where the underdog always ends up coming out on top, and miracles happen just when you think all hope is lost. As much as I hoped for things to be like the movies though, it wasn't. My legs had tremors as I  lifted the stock labled "Team lift" onto a shelf, the muscles in my abdomen and stomach contracting and swelling and shuddering against the fat and flesh that lined them in. Heat seeped into my jeans. This was just the risks working in Mallmart had though. Especially when your claim to fame was being able to lift abnormally heavy stock. I was covered in bruises, my nails were chipped and short, my back always hurt so terribly, and now, this. "Ms.Shoggoth, we will need to ask you a few questions in order to gage how much reeducation you will be needing. Do you understand how to complete topstock?"  I gazed down at the team lead that stared back up, expectantly. Of course I did, I've been doing it since I very first began working here.

Topstock Etiquette, With Madame Macabre!

Topstock is a special name for the space at the very top of a shelf where customers cannot reach. This is where excess items are put. Every morning, Mallmart Associates scan topstock in order to work down stock into any open spaces, eventually working down all the excess stock. The amount of stock that is allowed in topstock varies, but it is generally considered that as much as a nearly full stock box can be put onto the topstock space, so long as some of it had been worked onto the the sales shelves!

"Just what is this about? You know I understand topstock," I was suspicious now. Were they just looking for a reason to fire me? No, that didn't make sense. We came to an agreement-

"Leah had told us you had given her a cart that you told her could not go out, and yet she was able to work the stock onto the sales floor." 

My jaw dropped at that. Surely there was some misunderstanding. She must not have heard me right. Yeah, that was it. Still, I felt my blood pressure rising as I made my way to the backrooms. "Hey Leah, you do realize that wasn't overstock right? Any idea why management came down on my head?" Leah looked up from her spot in the backrooms of our grocery department. There was a thinly veiled accusation, but it wasn't as subtle as I hoped because now, there were several pairs of eyes watching us. She looks me up and down, smirking. And then she said, "You smell like piss." like that was her gotcha moment, like it isn't already stressful enough, and like I hadn't sacrificed my whole body to this job- 

But yes, that was Leah's big moment, where everyone watched on, smirking as I sat there fighting to find words, any comeback. I wanted to scorch the earth and leave everyone blistering in my wake with whatever I said. But instead I just said, "Whatever, I have work to do." 

I'm here to work, not make friends. As much as I wished they liked me, as much as I selfishly wished we were on the same wavelength, that just wasn't possible. I hadn't realized though, that they hated me this much though? Where did it all go so wrong? I spent way too much time, thinking about it, worrying. Maybe they're right, maybe there's something wrong, something unlikeable about me. I felt baffled, and by the time I walked out of the store, my head was spinning. The storm, having passed, was alight with an unearthly glow that filtered colors through it like a kaleidoscope. There in the Mallmart parking lot, I gasped. "The sky…Is green!" 

[strangecowplant]

UPDATE

ill have to get to my replies later but i need to update right now

teddy was getting even worse, the meds were horrible to him and he just started to take a dive. he was dead weight, couldn't stand it was devastating to see him trying to pee or do anything really only to just fall. he was confused, scared, couldnt sleep for more than a couple minutes after having literally tried to calm him like a baby. this wasn't your typical sedative, calming med loopiness this was extreme, ive never seen a cat act this way before, let alone while on relaxants. its hard to explain but when you've experienced cats pass before you just know the signs and he was showing them rapidly later in the morning. i had another total breakdown so mom took the reigns and called them and absolutely ripped them apart. they're at fault for this getting worse, for this horrible medication, for not leaving the catheter in for longer like i said i wanted so he wouldnt have to go through that procedure AGAIN, its invasive enough ONCE let alone 2 or 3 times, for not ensuring he could pee on his own before just sending him off carelessly, for not communicating and hyperfocusing on money for issues that arent even an issue night now and could be done later. blockages are difficult to address as is, but the way they went about it made it even worse. the vet told us to get him in right away for the reaction to the new medication, and we were firm that we are NOT paying this is their fault I'm amazed teddy was able to make it through the night, he's so incredibly strong

as much as i dont ever want to go back there im doing everything for him and we raced him there, they're going through all kinds of checks to make sure he's ok and also working on his peeing. he had a wet bowl movement before i got the call, which couldve been from the sudden change to his prescription diet, the new med, the situation or anything, but was so weak he couldnt even stand so it got all over him, i had to wash him off and that seemed to kind of kick him into moving again, not much but a lot more than i had seen all morning after becoming exhausted, almost like it switched him back on to keep fighting.

so far he's doing well his bp is only slightly high due to the stress of being there but hes inflamed which also is making the urine they can push out tinged with blood. they're monitoring him constantly in fact she (this is a different vet from the owner, ive had good experiences with her) said he's being held almost all the time by another staff member, she will be giving him a boost of antibiotics as an injection and a single anti inflammatory since he got his bloodwork done and he doesnt have any kidney or liver issues or anemia/anything else. they offered for me to stay with them there so i can be with him but i needed to get back to my other babies to make sure they dont stress more either, i have to keep them healthy too so im getting updates over the phone. hes eating there hopefully thatll give him a boost of energy because though they can bring him out and walk him around/play hes still very sleepy. he hasnt peed but his bladder isnt full either, i asked why since he was drinking like crazy and she said its likely because he's dribbling tiny amounts almost constantly, his blanket has some small spots (i noticed when he was home his peepee was wet a lot but no full pees) im going to be grabbing him again soon before they close and then taking him back first thing in the morning for her to check his bladder again, if its full and hard again she's putting a catheter in again. she's also giving me a prescription for a bladder relaxer thats non drowsy, but its a gamble what pharmacies have it. we still are firm we are not paying, i'm still so scared because if they DO try to ding us with the bill we will absolutely be out of donations to help, the last bill was $606, on top of that all the gas needed to even get there and back is crushing, and i have no idea what will happen but its not something i can even think about right now

idk how its going to go we're just taking this one step at a time, my anxiety has made me so sick i want this nightmare to be over with and him at home safe and sound.

again thank you all so much for your concerns for my boy, all the help, the donations, the kind words its incredible how many are wishing and working for his recovering ill update again and get to replies as well when i can

please help me pay my kitties emergency vet bill!

ive never done this before but one of my cats just had to get an extremely sudden emergency procedure and i don't know what to do, my vet and i have reached out to a couple incredible programs here to help with the bill but one is less than half and the other hasn't replied back yet, i've already declined the blood work (CA$356) to lower the bill at the risk of possible underlying liver and kidney issues not being found but its still a monumental amount for us right now. i just feel so helpless

we had enough to pay the minimum deposit to get the procedure started in time thankfully, but we were already scraping by as it is and now we're in desperate need of funds to eat/pay rent/pay off any remainder of the bill. i am disabled without aid and have been unable to work/haven't worked since 2015 but am on track to hopefully start working pt this fall. i live with my mom who has 3-4 jobs including one seasonal job which needless to say is stressful and wearing her down. we unfortunately are stuck in the most expensive place to live in canada with the inability to save up to flee so the cycle is never ending.

this is Teddy, my typically very silly vocal happy boy who's not quite 2 yet, my comfort king, my little muffin who acts like a weighted blanket for me at night and eases my anxiety, his favourite toy is his pink unicorn poof, he loves car rides and he can shake paw!

he got a sudden urinary blockage last night with no straight answer as to why and progressively got worse as the night went on, i didnt sleep at all, i was panicking and bawling, naturally, and raced to the vet to get in as soon as the door opened. i assumed it was a uti which wouldn't have been as costly, but it turned out to be much more severe and life threatening. i never expected my usually extremely healthy boy to suddenly be at risk of that and im still trying to just process whats been happening

he needed to be sedated and given a catheter and some medication, the total bill came to CA$985.62, of which we were barely able to pay 500 of, and one program was able to donate 300 leaving a total of CA$185.62 for the bill. this, of course, leaves us scrambling for food and rent as well

i know there are a lot of fundraisers out there needing donations right now, and i really hate letting myself be so open and raw like this but even a dollar would help tremendously and i would be forever grateful for any help whatsoever, even a rb to signal boost is greatly appreciated <3

TLDR; my cat had a sudden life threatening issue and now we can't pay the full vet bill or pay for food/rent

Paypal

[spencersawkward]

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay. 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie. 

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?! 

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since. 

or, really, for your cat to try it. 

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.  

taglist (lmk about adding/removal or add yourself to the list here!): @jareids @reidsconverse @xoxomgg @may-b-a-u-shewritestoo @la-vie-en-amour1 @g0lden-cth @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @kisseslikecoffee @spenxerslut @slutforthegubes @spookydrreid @depressedgothgrl @flipper-kisses @multixfandomwriter​ @willowrose99​ @gingeraleluke​ @chasemoonlight​ @spencerreid9​ 

[chokemewanda]

rust anon here again, i'd like to request that r comes home with a cat and begs wanda to let them keep it, inspired by my cousin telling me she got a cat.

Kitty Cat

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

Warnings: cats (?) I think that’s it.

Masterlist

You find a stray cat. Wanda’s not so keen.

“Don’t you dare.” Wanda warned and you froze in place, half way out on the fire escape. You had expected her to sleep for at least an hour more but no such luck. She was standing with just one of your sweatshirts on, her hair tossed up in a bun.

“I wasn’t gonna.” You told her, pursing your lips tightly. You knew she had already seen the sliced chicken you had in your hand and was completely caught. “I was just thinking about it.”

“I was just thinking about it.” Wanda mocked stepping closer to you and trying to look around you to find the mangy grey cat that had been crying outside your window ever since you had moved in.

Wanda didn’t like cats all that much and so you hadn’t done anything with the cat and eventually it stopped howling at the window. That’s why you were so worried when it reappeared with a vengeance. Howling all night long at the window.

Wanda had said to ignore it so you felt bad. That’s how you had gotten to here, halfway out the window with the chicken.

“He’s hungry.” You argued and began to slowly open the packet of chicken under the watch of her narrowed eyes. “I can’t just let him starve.”

“If you feed a stray it will just keep coming back.” Wanda argued and you pursed your lips against a smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Isn’t that what I did with you?” You tossed the first slice of chicken to the cat who stopped its incessant cries to eat it up quickly. “Brought you cookies once and you never left.”

“That is not the same.” Wanda couldn’t fight her own smile. “I won’t use the plants as a bathroom.”

“So we get a litter box.” You dropped a second slice of chicken, fighting your smirk.

“We? I’m having no part in it.” She held her hands up and you pouted at her.

“Sure would be nice to have some company when you’re gone away.” You knew you were playing dirty and it made Wanda laugh, knowing she’d lost already.

“Bring it to the vet. It stays in the living room. Don’t let me find it in our bed. Ever.” She warned, her finger pointed at you.

///

“Morning bubs, you want some breakfast?” Wanda remembered when you’d ask her if she wanted breakfast. Now you were talking to the damn cat.

She groaned loudly, pushing herself out of bed despite the fact she only fell into the bed less than three hours ago, coming home from a mission.

When she joined you in the kitchen you were feeding the cat who was sat up on the counter like he owned the place. Wanda scowled as she made her way to the coffee machine.

“I thought we had rules.” You jumped in surprise and turned to look at her with a frown. “No kitchen.”

“What are you doing up?” You asked her gently and she pouted.

“You got up.” She told you, cupping her mug between her hands. She had wanted to spend time with you but you got up to feed the cat.

You usually slept in after a mission together, tangled up in each other and the blankets.

She couldn’t believe a cat had taken away her well earned lie in.

She couldn’t believe she was jealous of a cat.

“I got up to make you breakfast. I was coming back to bed.” You assured her, moving into her embrace when she opened her arms. “I love our late mornings.”

“I’ll go back to bed.” She promised and you kissed her cheek happily, returning to your frying pan. She brought her cup of coffee, returning to the bed.

When you pushed in the door the cat followed you in and Wanda narrowed her eyes when he curled up at the end of the bed happily.

“He’s been sleeping in here.” She pointed out and you nodded, passing her the plate and cutlery.

“I get lonely.” You shrugged, pressing a kiss to her lips.

[motherjoel]

cup of sugar (spencer reid x fem!reader)

summary: after finding out that your cat needs to be put down, the last thing you expect is a visit from your handsome neighbor who just needs a cup of sugar

category: fluff, light angst (about the cat lol)

warnings/includes: death of an animal, needles

wc: 6.6k

a/n: this is my submission for the @veraiconcos writer challenge! hope you guys like it :)

-

Your eyes were blurred with tears the whole drive home from the vet. You tried your best to refrain from looking back at your sick cat (who you had lovingly named after Fantine from Les Mis), but you stole a few glances at her while trying to concentrate on the road. Eventually, you made it home safely and you grabbed the crate from your backseat to bring it up to your apartment.

The vet had said she was nearing the end of her life, and it was only a matter of time before she passed. You had scheduled to put her down in a few days and your heart wrenched for the poor kitty. She wasn’t anything special on the outside, just a brown short-haired cat you could see on the street, but to you she was everything. She had been sitting right next to your car parking spot for months before you actually took her in- you fed her and gradually began to pet her before you decided to take her inside your home and show her the love she deserved. You’d been through a lot with her and you weren’t ready to say goodbye, but you didn’t want to prolong her suffering, So, you decided to spend every moment with her until your appointment.

You set down the crate and let her out, and she sluggishly made her way to her coveted position on your couch. You had yet to cease crying- every time you looked at her you welled up at the thought of losing her. Right as you were about to take a seat next to her, you heard a tentative knock from your door. With a sigh, you wiped your tears and made your way to open it. Looking in the mirror before opening the door, it was obvious you were crying. You didn’t care, however, as you swung it open to see a lanky man holding a measuring cup with flour in his hair and adorning his sweater. Not just any lanky man- it was the lanky man you had developed a bit of a crush on. You saw him some days when you got back from work collecting his mail, and you couldn’t help but be interested in the mystery guy from apartment 202.

“Hi, I was just baking some cookies and I realized I was out of su- are you okay?” he asked with concern. You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I just got back from the vet. Looks like I have to put my cat down,” you deadpanned. Your tears had stopped falling at this point.

“Oh gosh, I- I’m so sorry. Um, forget about the sugar I can just go to the store,” he turned on his heel and made his way back to his apartment.

“No, it's fine!” you called after him. He turned around with a grimace. “It’s okay, I have plenty of sugar, please, come in,” you opened the door wider for him to cautiously make his way into your apartment. You didn’t want to admit it, but this tiny bit of human interaction really helped you get your mind off of your current situation- it was normally just you and Fantine, so if you could make a friend in the meantime, you would try your best. 

“Thank you,” he said as you made your way into the kitchen, petting Fantine on the way in. He took a glance at her before returning his gaze to you. “Is that, uh, the cat?” he asked, and you could tell he wasn’t great with comforting people in sad situations.

“Yeah, that's my Fantine,” you said, reaching into your cabinet to get the jar of sugar.

“Les Miserables?” he asked, a glint of recognition in his eyes. You smiled.

“Yes! Good to know I'm neighbors with someone of culture,” you laughed, your heart feeling light for the first time that day. “You can pet her if you'd like,” you told him before grabbing the measuring cup from him and turning to fill it with sugar. He smiled in response, keeping his hands to himself. “Allergic?” you asked, wondering if the handsome stranger maybe just wasn’t a cat person.

“Oh no, sorry, I just have a germ… thing,” he said, nervously rubbing his palms on his pants. You simply nodded and shut the jar of sugar, making your way back to him and giving him the measuring cup.

“So, you know my cat's name, but not mine. I’m Y/N, by the way,” you offered, not reaching out your hand when you remember his previous statement about germs. 

“Spencer, I live next door,” he said, seeming relieved at your neglect to shake his hand. You didn't have time to say anything else before a colorfully dressed woman in a “kiss the cook” apron barged into your apartment- you noticed that you had left the door open after letting Spencer in.

“What's taking you so long G man? The butter is burning!” she exclaimed, before noticing your cat on the couch. “Oh. My. God. Now who is this sweetie pie?” she asked, running to your couch and lovingly petting her.

“Fantine,” Spencer answered, looking at you with a blush. 

“She is the sweetest thing I have ever seen. I am obsessed,” she cooed. 

“That's Penelope,” Spencer said, widening his eyes at her when she seemed to get comfortable on your couch.

“Nice to meet you Penelope, I’m Y/N,” you introduced, making your way over to your couch. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” she extended her hand and you took it. “I’ve had too much cold brew today and I am feeling a little energetic,” she laughed. You liked her jittery manner- she seemed like someone you’d want to be friends with. “How old is she?” Penelope asked, innocently. You tried to hide the way your face fell at the question, but it was obvious that it saddened you. Spencer noticed.

“Um, I actually took her in off the street so I really don’t know. She’s old, though,” you said, looking down at your tired kitty. “I actually have to… put her down in a few days,” you said, ignoring your voice crack. Without a word, you were pulled into a tight and unexpected hug. Penelope's arms were wrapped around you, leaving little room to breathe. You didn’t mind the human contact. You even let a few tears drop, having held them back for the duration of their visit. A warm hand rested on your shoulder- a warm hand that was tentative and bigger than Penelope's ones that rubbed your back. You looked up to see Spencer awkwardly attempting to comfort you. In a bold move, you rested your cheek on his hand, as if you were thanking him. Penelope pulled away after a minute, wiping her own tears from her eyes.

“Well, what an introduction that was!” she laughed through her tears, you joined her. You heard Spencer clear his throat, like he was preparing to speak.

“What if- what if we finish the baking over here?” he asked, hope in his eyes. Before you could answer, he began to ramble. “Studies show that human contact or even just being in the presence of other people can help with grieving, and-” he was cut off by Penelope.

“And we don't want to leave you alone right now. I mean, we’ve cried together already. We’re basically best friends,” Penelope said, resting a hand on your arm. You didn’t even have to contemplate the offer.

“Yeah, of course! I’d really like that,” you smiled at the two of them, who exchanged a glance.

“Great! Me and Spencer will go get the ingredients from his apartment, you just stay here with Fantine being your cute selves,” she said, dragging Spencer out by his arm and shutting the door gently behind her. You were in for an interesting night.

-

Spencer couldn’t help but blush at the thought of spending the rest of his night in your apartment. With Penelope, of course. He had seen you before- he didn’t know your name until today, but he had a bit of a crush on you. From the moment he first saw you feeding Fantine when she was still a stray, he fell for your gentle aura. He's not stalking you, he swears he isn't, but he subconsciously remembered your schedule. He just so happened to get his mail at 6:17 every day he was home when he knew you’d be coming back from work. And he just drove out of his way to see you feed that cat every once in a while. Not an obsession. 

Penelope was the first to find out about his little crush. When she came to Spencer’s apartment to pick him up for some nerd convention, she noticed him staring at you as they drove away. You were sitting on the ground, pushing a bowl of food towards a tentative cat (who he now knew as Fantine) and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger a moment too long. Penelope immediately gasped and called him out.

“You-you… and her! She's so pretty Reid! And good with animals! Get married, right now,” she had said after watching him long for you.

“I’m not- were not,” he stuttered, Penelope shot him a knowing glare. “She doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t even know her name, I just… I just notice her, sometimes…” Spencer confessed, looking down at his twiddling thumbs. Penelope didn’t tease him too much after that, but she smirked the entire car ride there.

The rest of the team found out about his crush shortly after (thanks Garcia) and the teasing was relentless. Sure, you didn’t even know his name, but he wanted you to. Boy did he want you to. But he didn’t plan on acting on it- at least, not until he had Garcia over to bake cookies for the team. She had insisted that she come over to bake, much to Spencer's chagrin. Little did he know, she was only so insistent because she had a secret plan. A secret love plan.

Her plan had worked so far- hiding the sugar and getting Spencer to ask the pretty neighbor for some, check. Well, she didn’t have much of a plan past that, but she assumed she’d figure it out when it came down to it- and so far so good. Once she had pulled Spencer back into his apartment, he began to pace around in nervousness- Penelope was jumping in excitement. 

“Reid and Y/N sitting in a tree!” she sang happily.

“What does that mean?” Spencer asked, slightly irritated.

“You mean, you don't know… Never mind,” she sighed.

“Garcia what the hell were you thinking! I can’t talk to her all night, I’ll find a way of looking like an idiot,” he sighed in exasperation, trying to make his sweaty hands less sweaty by rubbing them on his pants. 

“Reid, Reid, Reid,” she repeated like a mantra, following his pacing and trying to calm him down. “It’s going to be okay. Seriously, you have the best wing woman on planet earth and you’re worried about whether or not she’ll like you? Please, you’re a catch baby! And she will see that tonight,” she said, eventually getting him to stop moving by placing her hands on his shoulders.

After she had calmed him down, the two gathered all of the ingredients and made the trip next door, where you were waiting on the couch with Fantine in your lap. You looked lost in thought, but you quickly jumped out of it and gave them a smile when they walked in. 

“So, what are we baking?” you asked, standing up and grabbing some ingredients off of Spencer’s hands. He hoped you didn’t notice his flinch when your fingers brushed his (you did) and he hoped you didn’t see the red on his cheeks (you did, but you looked similarly tomato-like). 

“We are making my famous brown butter chocolate chip cookies!” Penelope exclaimed, already measuring out some ingredients.

“Ooh yummy! What makes them famous?” you asked.

“Oh, you’ll know once you taste them. Just ask Spencer, he could eat 7 in just one sitting,” she joked. Best wing woman on planet earth my ass, Spencer thought.

“Oh really, Spence? I bet you I can beat that tonight,” you giggled, moving to help measure the brown sugar. Maybe Penelope was doing an okay job after all.

“Did you know that the first chocolate cookies were invented by accident by Ruth Wakefield in 1938?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“No, but tell me more!” you smiled, returning your attention to the measuring cup in front of you. He faltered for a moment, surprised at your eagerness to hear more about his facts, but he continued.

 “Ruth and her husband owned the Toll House Inn and she was baking cookies for their guests when she realized that she was out of bakers chocolate. So, when she chopped up a block of Nestle semi-sweet chocolate and added it to the dough, she expected it to disperse evenly throughout, but instead they retained their original form and.. you know. Chocolate chip cookies,” he finished weakly, looking up to see you staring at him in awe. Penelope was unphased, having been around boy genius for far too long, but you were looking at him like he had just found the secret to world peace. “What?” he asked tentatively, suddenly extremely self conscious.

“Sorry, it’s just, that was so cool! I’ve never seen someone recite facts like that. Plus, you’re a great story teller,” you finished, nudging him with your arm. Oh god, you were too cute. He tried his best not to smile like an insane person as he walked between you and Penelope to open the bag of chocolate chips.

“Yup, our boy genius here has an IQ of 187,” Penelope said, patting Spencer on the head. You laughed for a moment, assuming she was joking, but when you saw the dead serious look on their faces you were shocked.

“You mean I was living next door to a superhero all this time and I never knew?” you asked, still in shock from the previous information. Spencer laughed, and it was music to your ears. 

“Well, I'm not- I'm not a superhero,” he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

“Oh yeah? What do you do for a living?” you asked, expecting he was some sort of mad scientist. Penelope snorted a laugh. “What?” you smiled.

“Well, I work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so does Penelope,” he said, and you didn’t seem to know what that was, so he continued. “We… we profile serial killers based off of their actions and eventually we catch them before they can cause any more harm,” he explained, trying to distract himself by eating the chocolate chips in front of him (and having his hand promptly swatted by Garcia). Your mouth opened even wider than before, if possible.

“Spencer. You are a superhero!” you said in shock, grabbing his arm with excitement. He gasped at the contact- he didn’t not like it. He was just surprised. You noticed his reaction, however, and apologized quickly.

“Oh, sorry,” you blushed. 

“No it's okay!” he said, slightly too eager. You smiled and nodded, and he felt relieved.

“Penelope, do you tackle the serial killers too?” you asked, wondering if the ball of sunshine had an angry side.

“Oh heavens no. I’m the techie, I basically dig up all the dirt you could ever possibly need. Basically a gardener,” she remarked, and you couldn't help but smile. 

“I’m friends with superheroes,” you said, doing a little dance in your spot while pouring some flour into the mixer. Spencer melted.

“Wrong,” said Penelope. “You're best friends with some superheroes.”

You spent the rest of the night laughing and chatting with your new best friends, and eventually feasting on the cookies on your couch next to Fantine, who was sleeping peacefully. You tried to break Spencer's record of 7 cookies, but tapped out after 4. Despite the upsetting news you had received earlier that night, you were extremely happy. As you waved them goodbye, and even hugged Spencer goodnight, your heart was full. You had both of their phone numbers and you planned to text them sometime soon- you didn’t want that to be the last you saw of Penelope and Spencer.

-

You awoke the next morning with a pit in your stomach. You couldn’t tell exactly why, but you had the feeling that something was going to happen today. Trying not to dwell on it, however, you began to get ready for the day. You worked a 9-5 job as a secretary at a local law office- this wasn’t your end goal career, but something to pay the bills. You went to say goodbye to Fantine when you noticed something was wrong. She was having difficulty breathing, every breath was labored. Your heart dropped when you realized this was the cause of your pit- you were saying goodbye to your kitty today. You hurried to grab her crate, hastily wiping away your tears, and ushered her inside. You didn’t know if you would even be able to see the road in your state, so without thinking, you knocked on the door next to yours and waited for a moment, tears continuously streaming. Spencer swung the door open, his face immediately falling when he saw you.

“Y/N, what’s- what’s wrong?” he asked, seemingly ready to leave for work. You couldn’t find any words as you gently set down her crate and wrapped your arms around Spencer's waist. He was shocked at this, but he comforted you once he got his bearings. His hand rubbed your back as you cried into his sweater vest, not worried about the scene you were causing in the middle of the hallway. 

“It’s- its Fantine,” you sobbed into his chest. “I think she needs to be put down today,” you told him, pulling away slightly and wiping your tears. 

“Oh Y/N, i'm so sorry,” he said, and he truly meant it. Seeing you upset like this sent a dagger through his heart. He contemplated for a moment before he spoke again. “Why don't I… drive you to the vet? I want to make sure you get there okay,” he said, voice laced with concern.

“Don’t you have to catch the bad guys?” you asked as an attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but neither of you had the energy to laugh.

“It’s just a paperwork day today, I’ll call Penelope and let her know I won't make it in,” he said, quickly gathering his phone and his car keys. You nodded, not finding your voice in the moment. You followed him down to his car and he opened the backseat door for you to put the crate in. He guided you to the passenger's seat, placing a soft hand on the small of your back as he opened the door for you. As he jogged around to the driver's seat and pulled away, you opened your GPS app to give him the directions. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, apart from your occasional directing. You suddenly felt extremely guilty for letting him drive you. 

“This is ridiculous, I’m sorry for ruining your day. I’m just super dramatic about things and you probably have better things to do then take your neighbor and her sick cat to the vet,” you apologized, feeling embarrassed by your actions. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. You’re entitled to your grief, and I just want to be there for you… to, you know, help you with it,” he said, glancing at you occasionally. “I’ve never had a pet before and I don’t normally like animals, but I know how attached we can get to things,” he said, focusing on the road. You nodded and with a bout of confidence, you reached over and grabbed his hand, resting your entwined fingers on the center console. His eyes widened, but he didn’t let go. His knowledge of germs had completely left him- he was being touched by the girl who he’d been pining after for months, and he wasn’t going to let a little germaphobia get in the way. You noticed his reaction, but you blushed as you looked out the window, seeing the animal hospital come into view. You sighed and removed your hand from his and opened your door, grabbing the crate from the back seat and walking towards the entrance. You noticed that Spencer was standing outside his car, unsure of what to do.

“Do you- would you come in with me?” you asked, hoping he’d say yes. “I just… they’ll probably put her down and I don't want to be alone,” you asked with unintentional puppy dog eyes. Spencer thought for a moment- walking into a hospital full of sick animals with many diseases seemed like the absolute last thing he wanted to do. But when he looked at your pleading eyes, he knew that he couldn’t just wait in the car.

“Of course,” he conceded, locking his car and following you inside the clinic.

-

You met with the vet quickly and your suspicions were correct- poor Fantine was suffering and the best option was to put her down now. Your heart shattered, but you felt Spencer's comforting hand on your back, trying to glue those pieces back together. The vet had given you the option to either stay with her while she was put down or to wait in the other room.

“I think I want to be with her, I don’t want her to be alone,” you said, wiping away a stray tear. 

“Will your boyfriend be coming too?” the vet asked, turning his attention to Spencer. Neither of you acknowledged the boyfriend title. He was about to answer when you interrupted him.

“Oh Spence, don’t worry about coming in. I’ve already dragged you here, you can just wait in the other room if you want,” you offered, sincerely. Spencer could see that you wanted him to stay- that you wanted him to comfort you. So, pushing his anti-germ rules aside once again, he made up his mind.

“Of course I’m coming with you Y/N, I told you I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he decided, and you gave him a grateful but sad smile. 

So, as you said your tearful goodbyes, the vet took out his needle and began the process. Spencer rubbed your back, eventually wrapping his arms around you as you sobbed. You could swear you felt a kiss on the head, but you were mainly focused on your cat. You decided to get her cremated, and as Spencer guided you out of the clinic, you felt extremely empty. You missed your best friend already.

The drive home was mainly silent, and you wanted to grab his hand again. You decided against it, however- you thought you might have pushed his limits of touch and germs today (you hadn’t. Spencer decided that he would never be tired of your touch). You made your way up to your apartment, empty crate in hand, with Spencer following a few steps behind. He walked you to your door, stopping outside when you unlocked it. He put his anxious hands in his pockets, trying his best not to fidget (and also trying to prevent himself from reaching out to wipe your tears).

“So…” you said, looking at your feet.

“Yeah, so…” he said, doing the same.

“Listen Spencer, I know we’ve just met and-and you're probably tired of me already, but… this is my first night without her, and I don't want to be lonely. I know this is a lot to ask, especially after I dragged you around all day, but… if I asked you to stay, would you?” you said, shyly looking up at him. Spencer could feel his heart stutter, looking at you softly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, yes I will,” he responded, offering a nervous smile. You gave him one back, unlocking your door and letting him inside your apartment. It already felt different without her, but the presence of Spencer did a little to fill that void. You ushered him to sit down on the couch and you moved to make some tea for the both of you. You didn’t notice Spencer internally freaking out about being in your apartment, this time alone. You made the tea in silence and brought it to the couch, sitting next to him. 

“Can I braid your hair?” you asked, surprising even yourself by your bluntness. 

“Can you- what?” he asked, face twisting in confusion. He didn’t know if he could handle your hands in his hair, but he wanted to find out. You laughed at his confusion, almost spilling the tea on yourself.

“Come onnn, I’m a grieving cat mother who wants to braid your hair. It would look so pretty,” you told him, and although it wasn’t a direct complement, Spencer couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face.

“Uh, sure I guess,” he said, heart rate picking up.

“Yay! Okay, you’re tall so sit on the ground and I'll stay on the couch,” you said, clapping your hands excitedly as he set his tea down on your coffee table and sat on your carpeted floor. You didn’t waste any time, sectioning his hair into sections for a french braid. You noticed him shiver at your touch. “Sorry, are my hands cold?” you almost whispered, too deep in concentration.

“No, they’re fine,” he said, closing his eyes as you ran your hands through his hair. 

“You have good hair, Spence,” you told him as you worked on the short braid. He almost choked on his own tongue.

“Oh, thanks. You do too…” he said, not registering his complement before it came out of his mouth.

“Thank you,” you blushed, focusing on your handiwork. It didn’t take you long to finish, and when you turned him around to observe the braid, you couldn’t help the squeal that escaped your throat. “Oh my gosh, you look so good!” you exclaimed, pulling your phone out of your pocket and taking a selfie of the two of you. He smiled awkwardly for the camera. “Penelope is going to love this,” you said, typing her contact in the phone. Spencer knew that the picture would soon be seen by the entire BAU, but he let it go when he saw you smile genuinely for the first time that day. You held your phone out to him for him to see the picture.

“Don’t we look cute?” you smiled.

“Yes, you- I mean we do,” he said, hoping you didn’t catch his slip. You did. 

“Spence?” you asked, contemplating something. He looked up at you.

“Yes?” he asked, wondering what you were thinking about.

“What do you do when you’re sad? Because when I used to get sad, I’d just cuddle with Fantine, but…” you trailed off, your eyes glazing over as you thought about her again.

“You can cuddle with me,” he said. You looked at him, eyes wide- he didn’t think he had said that out loud. “I mean… physical touch increases levels of dopamine and serotonin, so if we were to… you know… uh maybe it would make you feel better?” he said, scratching the back of his neck. You smiled and pulled him back on the couch. He sat there as you put your head on his chest, his arm tentatively reaching around your shoulders. You chose to ignore his increased heartbeat, which he was sure you could hear. 

“Do you think… does it get better?” you asked, eyes brimming with tears. “I mean, will I ever miss her less? Will it hurt less eventually?” you finished with a sigh. Spencer thought back to all of the pain he's been through and the ways he’s dealt with it. He’s learned some healthy coping mechanisms, as well as some extremely unhealthy ones. He thought deeply before answering.

“I think… we make room for the hurt. I don’t think it ever goes away, but you learn to cope and deal with it to the point where you feel better. Eventually,” he explained as delicately as possible. You lifted your head from his chest and gazed into his eyes to see he was already looking back at you. He could feel himself leaning in, and you responded by doing the same. You were both inches away from each other when you heard a sharp knock on your door. The both of you jumped at the noise, flustered, as if you had been caught. 

“I’ll… go get that,” you said, quickly getting off of the couch and running to the door. Spencer mentally facepalmed himself- you were grieving and he thought the perfect moment to make his move was while he was comforting you. Although, you had seemed to reciprocate the feelings…

“Penelope!” you yelled, opening the door to be immediately greeted with a bear hug. 

“Y/N, my sweet sweet Y/N,” she cried into your shoulder. You pat her back, consoling her (this woman was one hell of an empath). You made eye contact with Spencer over her shoulder, giving him a wide eyed stare, both of you amused by Garcia’s antics. She pulled away and looked at you sadly.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asked, trying his best to sound like he wanted her there. 

“Well, I heard about the sad day you guys were having so I brought some medicine to fix your broken hearts,” she said while pulling out a couple bottles of wine, warm cookies in her other hand.

“You’re a godsend Penelope Garcia,” you smiled, taking the wine and cookies into the kitchen. Garcia took this moment to grill Spencer about their day, quietly enough so you couldn’t hear.

“Soo you’ve been with her all day? Spill, I need to hear if i'm gonna have baby boy geniuses,” she said excitedly. Spencer chuckled.

“Well, the animal clinic wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting but…” he trailed off and she urged him to continue. “But, we were inches away from kissing when you decided to knock on the door,” he said, and Penelope looked distraught.

“Oh my god. I have to leave, you guys have to get back to it!” she said, standing up to go home. Spencer grabbed her arm and stopped her before she could tell you she was leaving.

“No no no! Please don't, if you leave now i'm going to have to face the awkward aftermath of… that, and I don't want to,” he said, almost begging.

“So… what you’re saying is… you need wing woman Garcia again!” she suggested, excitedly. Spencer didn’t have time to disagree before you came back in the room, cookies on a plate and balancing three wine glasses in your hand and a bottle in the crook of your arm. Spencer hopped up to help you carry everything, and Garcia did little to hide her smirk.

The rest of the night was spent cheering you up- from Taylor Swift dance parties to Disney karaoke, Penelope pulled out all the stops to make it a night to remember. After a few glasses, you had even managed to get Spencer to dance with you to a slower song, Penelope slyly recording the entire thing. Spencer didn’t care, however- all he focused on was the buzzing in his chest and your arms around his neck, his entire body tingling with excitement. 

As you said your goodbyes to the duo, you pulled Penelope into a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. You did the same for Spencer, but your kiss had landed closer to the corner of his lips. In your buzzed state, however, you didn’t acknowledge it (or the fact that you had done it on purpose). Spencer left that night with a fire in his heart and his hand rested on his lips. After a bit of teasing, Garcia took an Uber home and Spencer was left alone to contemplate his next move.

-

The next day, the team was called in for a case across the country- Penelope had made sure you knew this in your group text with her and Spencer that she had so lovingly named “Penny and the Jets” (the three of you had also danced to a few Elton John songs during your night together, which gave Garcia the genius grouchat name idea). It was weird for you to be alone after having spent the past few days with your new friends, and you missed the distraction. You went back to work, only being lightly reprimanded for your absence. You couldn’t help but think about Spencer’s smile most of the day, or the way he always smelled like coffee.

Across the country, Spencer had been doing the same thing, and the team had noticed. He was more spaced out than usual, and it was only a matter of time before he confessed to the team that he’d finally talked to you. Derek proudly patted him on the back when he described what it was like to spend a day with you. The team was incredibly happy for him- although they weren’t shocked. Penelope had already forwarded them the video of you both dancing and the selfie you had taken with his braided hair. 

The case had finished relatively quickly, which was a relief to everyone (but especially Spencer, who wanted to make plans to see you as soon as he got back). As the team was walking together to their SUVs, Spencer's eye was drawn to a box on the sidewalk. Not just his eyes were drawn- he had heard a soft “mew” coming from the cardboard box, and he let his curiosity get the best of him as he walked over to it, Emily following him to see what he was doing. He opened the box to see a tiny kitten- he wasn’t normally an animal person, but it seemed like you had gotten to him. His heart wrenched at the sight- the kitten looked like a mini Fantine. 

“Oh my gosh, that is so cute,” Emily said, leaning down to get a closer look, snapping a picture for Garcia.

“Yeah, it is,” Spencer said, lost in thought. The rest of the team came to see what the big fuss was about. 

“Someone should take her!” said Prentiss, giving the team a look that said help me out. Reid should take her.

“Ah, yes. Hey, pretty boy, why don’t you take it?” Derek asked, leaning down to get a closer look. Spencer shook his head.

“I can’t take care of a cat, Morgan. Prentiss, why don’t you take it? You have Sergio,” he suggested, trying to get the attention off of him.

“Eh, one is enough for me,” she responded, nudging JJ.

“Spence, why don’t you give it to your neighbor? I’m sure Y/N would love her,” JJ suggested. Spencer's heart stuttered at your name.

“Y-you think?” he asked, unsure if it was too forward. The team wouldn’t let him leave without the cat, which he had already named Cosette in his mind (the name of Fantine’s daughter). So, he picked up the box and brought it with him onto the jet. This was the most spontaneous Spencer had ever been, and the team shared glances of shock and pride when he interacted with the kitten on the jet ride back. 

-

Here Spencer waited, outside your door, holding the tiny kitten in his arms. He had taken it to the vet to make sure it had its shots and was able to be kept as a house pet, and he immediately came home to give it to you. It was around 7 PM so he knew you should be home (not that he was being creepy- his eidetic memory couldn’t help but memorize your schedule). After a few minutes of standing, he swallowed his nerves and knocked on your door, quickly bringing his hand back to support the kitten he was holding.

You opened the door in your sweats, your hair dripping wet from the shower you had just taken. You were apparently on the phone before you opened the door- “I gotta go,” you said, hanging up the call and tossing your phone on the couch.

“Spence, what are you doing here? And who's this?” you said with heart eyes, ushering him in and cooing at the small kitten. He had never seen you smile this wide before, and he knew he was making the right choice. 

“Uh, her name is Cosette. Well, I gave her that name, you can definitely change if you want, because she's.. yours,” he said. Your mouth hung open in shock as you took the small kitty from him, rubbing your nose on her head. 

“Are you serious?” you almost yelled, excitement taking over. Spencer nodded happily, watching you pet the kitten. “Oh my god, you’re the best!” you said, pulling him into a one handed hug, the other arm holding Cosette. He laughed and hugged you back, before the unexpected happened. Maybe you were just extremely grateful, or maybe the adrenaline was taking over, but you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss onto his lips. Just like that. Like it was natural, like you had kissed Spencer a million times over. After you pulled away, he was extremely flustered. He pressed his hand to his lips, as if he was trying to figure out what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, thinking that he was upset with you. In all fairness, you didn’t expect to kiss him either- you just couldn’t help yourself. This seemed to wake him from his daze.

“No, don’t apologize! I’ve, uh, I've been wanting to do that for awhile now,” he blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. You smiled at this, feeling confident that you had made the right choice.

“Penelope is going to be thrilled,” you laughed, sitting on the floor and setting Cosette down to play with one of the cat toys you still had laying around.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, sitting next to you with his legs crossed.

“Well… she told me that I should make a move because you never would, and I thought that it was impossible for someone like you to like me, but she seemed pretty adamant that you did,” you said, focusing on the animal in front of you rather than the man. This shocked him- you didn't think he would like you? That seemed insane to him, and he made sure you knew that.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? You’re so cool, you get along with people and you’re not awkward, and you’re so caring, I just… how could I not like you?” he asked, petting the kitten as well. Now it was your turn to blush. You didn’t know how you could be so lucky to have these people come into your life at the perfect time.

You and Spencer spent the rest of the day together, once again. You stole a few more kisses, and Spencer was even bold enough to initiate one or two, and your heart finally felt full. You knew things would be okay now- you had two new friends (and a furry roommate) to prove it. 

[king-finnigan]

ok but modern!jaskier doesn’t often get drunk, despite popular belief and the fact that he drinks a lot (he’s built up a tolerance over the years. this concerns geralt)

however, when he DOES get drunk, most often when he’s out with yennefer, he can no longer restrain himself when he sees nice things and the kleptomaniac in him jumps out.

of course, he would never steal something from someone, because he’s drunk and grabby but he’s not an asshole, but if he likes what he sees, he’s taking it home. yen encourages him in this behaviour. she likes the chaos.

when jaskier and yen go out together, geralt knows for a fact that jaskier won’t be home before 6 in the morning. and he knows that when he walks into the living room after being woken up by jaskier slamming doors (he’s a slamming doors kinda drunk), he’ll find something that wasn’t there the day before, and is definitely not supposed to be there.

so far, jaskier’s brought home several stop signs, some wet floor signs, and three chairs. jaskier never tells him where he got it from. geralt’s pretty sure the furniture comes from the dump. he doesn’t know how jaskier got to the dump in the first place. he suspects yen had something to do with it.

and that’s just inanimate objects.

jaskier also tends to bring home cats. stray cats, most often, luckily - if it’s got a collar, he will leave it be. geralt always has to bring the cats to the vet to see if they have a chip. a few times they did, and geralt made jaskier bring them back to their owners. the other times, they didn’t, and geralt always brought them to the shelter.

except one time. the first time. when jaskier brought home a stray, brown cat that immediately ate a cockroach in the hallway outside their apartment upon arrival. geralt thought it would be good pest control, and kept it. he named her roach in honour of her legendary hunting skills. unfortunately, this event only encouraged drunk jaskier to bring home more cats.

one time, he brings home a goat. thank god that geralt recognizes it as eskel’s goat and makes jaskier return it when he’s sobered up. he firmly tells jaskier to stop bringing home stray animals, after that.

the next time, he finds a stranger asleep on the couch. she wakes up when he calls for jaskier, and she waves at him. jaskier stumbles out of the kitchen, still drunk.

“you told me to stop bringing home stray animals, so i got a stray human” “jaskier, i swear to fucking god”

he learns the woman’s name is triss. she seems nice. he still needs her to leave, though.

“jaskier, please don’t ever bring back a homeless person again” “i’m not homeless, mr. jaskier’s boyfriend” “then go home“ “no”

yen shows up an hour later. starts cackling like a maniac when she learns what jaskier has done. then stops laughing when she sees triss. geralt has never seen her blush before, but there’s a first for everything.

“triss, i need you to leave and go home” he may have said that a thousand times in the past hour he never thought someone else would be able to wink as obnoxiously as jaskier can, but triss manages. yen blushes some more. “only if that cutie in the doorway comes with me.” he’s pretty sure she’s drunk. yen looks around, though it’s very obvious triss was talking to her.

he finds out two weeks later that triss and yen are dating. jaskier feels very proud that he’s responsible for their relationship. he never lets yen live it down.

the next time jaskier goes out with yen, triss comes along. she seems to be encouraging his kleptomaniac tendencies as well. geralt wakes up to a new couch in the living room. jaskier, still very drunk, refuses to tell him how the fuck he got it up the stairs.

(modern!geralt gets drunk)

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Christmas Cookies

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Pure Absolute Christmas Fluff! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: I just wrote multiple pages of Sy being an absolute marshamallow, with his nieces and nephews. It’s as sweet as Maple Syrup! Enjoy. 

Henry Cavill Master List

“You're sure that it's okay if the kids come over?” The concern for her brother didn't go unnoticed, the blue eyes they shared were locked on his face as if she didn't believe him, when he had given the green light.

He looked ridiculous in the white and red ugly Christmas sweater. The knit garment depicting Santa on a beach. Leave it to Sy. Aimee had lost it laughing a few weeks ago, when her brother had called to tell her that he'd got ugly Christmas sweaters for his nieces and nephews, too.

A smirk curled his lips under the thick beard that had been growing on his face for the last ten or twelve years. Running a hand over his grown out hair, her little brother laughed. “Yes, Aim. I am sure. I wouldn't have told them to come, if I didn't want them here. Go on, we're fine. I am sure Mike will appreciate the night off.”

Early this morning, Sy had been woke to his phone ringing on the night stand beside his head. Stupidly loud, the phone screamed at him, begging him to answer. After the fourth ring, it was clear that the person on the other end was not giving in. Despite the headache and heartache from hell, he reached over and answered.

On the other end, his youngest niece greeted her hung over Uncle. “Uncle Sy, I want to come stay with you tonight. Mommy said that I can't invite myself over, but I want to see you. Please say yes.”

“Morning Wispy,” Sy muttered sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face. “Uncle Sy is a bit hazy this morning, I'm gonna need ya to repeat that. Slowly.” He shook his head and chuckled at his niece.

Repeating her request, Willow waited for her uncle to give her the all clear. She was his favourite person, after all, he would never tell her no.

“Sure can bub. Let me talk to your ma, please. And Wispy, I love ya bug.”

Taking the phone from her over excited daughter, Aimee greeted her brother. Her first round of questions assaulting the youngest Syverson.

“Four kids, are you really sure?” Aimee raised her brow looking at her brother. “I can't believe we let Willow talk you into this. I had no idea she was calling you until she came in with the phone. Apparently she and Harley had planned this yesterday.”

“Whatever. I'm cool with it. I didn't have much to do anyway. Probably spend another night down at The Hole.” Sy shrugged. His favourite dive bar had become his temporary home, since his girlfriend of five years had decided she wanted more than a cranky Army vet to share her life with.

Willow had heard her parents discussing Sy's break up, when she coerced her cousin Harley into the plan for a weekend with their uncle. Uncle Sy was her favourite person in the whole wide world, they even shared a birthday, and Uncle Sy was the most fun! He would often let Willow paint his nails and decorate his beard. Why wouldn't that silly woman want him? Willow had grumbled about her “Aunty Nina” being a bit meany who probably ate boogers for breakfast.

“If you think you are okay with this, fine.” Aimee laughed peeking around her brother into his house to see her two children, plus niece and nephew running around his kitchen like four wild beasts. “But if you need help...”

“I will call in the Army.” Sy's laugh rumbled. “I'm kidding. If we need you, then we will call.” He leaned in giving her a kiss on the cheek, straightening up he called to the kids. “Come say good bye to your ma and aunt.”

Children thundered to the door, rushing Aimee and Sy. Hugs and “I love yous” exchanged as Aimee gave her brother one last out for the weekend. Raising his hand to wave her off, Sy wore the biggest, goofiest smile. She'd behaved like he had never had all four children on his own before. Hell during his Army days he had been responsible for a lot more bodies than four. All had made it home, too. Most on their own accord, but he wasn't going to relive those memories right now. Those were the sort of things he thought about when he was alone in the dark. This weekend was going to be anything but dark.

With only a short span of time to plan, Sy did his best to get a few activities together for the children of various ages. Ben, 12; Annie, 10; Harley 7; and Willow, 6.

Ben had likely only agreed to his sister's impromptu weekend because it was better than staying home with his parents. Besides, he loved hanging out with his Uncle, even if it meant three other children tagging along.

“Okay, listen up.” Sy clapped his hands together, grabbing attention. He bent to gently scratch behind the ears of his beloved shepherd. “You know where your bedrooms are, go take your stuff up. Then meet me back here for our first item on the list.”

Lagging behind her brother and cousins, Willow bounced over to Sy hugging her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Do I have to share a bed with Annie? She kicks me.”

“She kicks you?” Sy stooped to scoop her up in his arms. Her dark curls tied back in pig tails, gently he tugged at the end of one. “Well then good thing I got them pillows you asked for.”

“The really big ones? With the pink sparkle unicorns.” Willow's eyes went wide as she gasped. Sy nodded and laughed. Vibrating with excitement she hugged her uncle's neck tight kissing his cheek. “I want to make a fort in the bed and then Annie has to stay on her side. But it's okay, because we can still share the blanket and my night light.”

“Is that so? Well, you best go tell her that. The others will be back down before you get up there, hurry up.” Sy let her down. “If you need some help, ask Annie. Okay, Wispy?”

“Okay.” She shouted, little legs carrying her to the stairs. Thumping and running through the house, Sy smiled and went to the kitchen to begin planning phase one of their weekend.

With Christmas right around the corner, he had broke down and dug out a few early Christmas Eve gifts. Since it was Syverson tradition to spend Christmas Eve with his momma and daddy, decorating and what not, he was in charge of supplying the kids with gingerbread houses and cookies to decorate. Momma would forgive him, if he told her that the houses were done early this year. If she was adamant about it, he could buy a few more for Christmas.

Pulling out the kits, Sy laughed when Ben trudged into the kitchen. Clearly the kids had gotten the message when they found sweaters laid out on the beds. In a blue and green sweater with penguins at a disco on the front, the twelve year old rolled his eyes before laughing.

“It suits ya.” Sy laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love us or secretly hate us.” Ben laughed along with his uncle. Laughing harder when Harley strode in wearing his green and red sweater, two reindeer on the front throwing snowballs.

“I think you secretly love it.” Sy nudged Harley with his elbow. “Should have gone bigger, huh?”

Harley nodded, the arms of his sweater a little too short. “Do I have to wear it long?”

“Nah,” Shaking his head, Sy pointed to the gingerbread house kits. “Long enough to get a photo for Nana and your momma.”

Giggling, Annie and Willow rushed into the kitchen. Purple and pink ugly sweaters worn with pride. Annie stood straight to show her uncle how well the new shirt fit. Purple decorated with dancing snowmen in a ballerina scene, a nod to Annie's love for dancing. And of course Willow, in her pink sweater with cats in Santa hats with red and green mittens.

“I love it, uncle Sy!” Willow exclaimed jumping up and down. “We look very pretty.”

“We look something.” Her big brother snickered.

“Are those gingerbread houses?” Annie eyed the items on the counter suspiciously. Sy nodded and grinned. “Nana is going to be mad at youuuuuu.” She sang out.

“Well this year, Nana is fine with us decorating early. We can get more for Christmas Eve.”

“We better!” Harley exclaimed wide eyed. “Santa will be upset. He always gets a gingerbread house and he eats it all!”

The tradition of leaving a whole house for Santa had began when Sy was a little boy. Perhaps even before, Aimee and Will had left houses surely before he was born. Over the years Santa had devoured a lot of houses at the Syverson's. He'd even had a few to eat while Sy was over in the desert, serving his country. His momma, without fail, had managed to get him a kit or two. Sy would set them up and let the other soldiers have their fill before sending photos to the kids back home to tell them Santa had came by.

“You know that Santa isn't...” “Going to be upset, because he will still get Nana's homemade cookies.” Ben cut in glaring at Annie.  This was her first year on the “Santa isn't real wagon”, but Ben wasn't going to let her ruin that for Harley and Willow.

Nodding and giving Ben a subtle thumbs up, Sy picked up to defuse the tension. “Right, he's still going to get lots of treats. And I don't know that I'd want a boring store made gingerbread, if I could have my momma's homemade shortbread and peanut butter blossoms.” He clicked his teeth together and made a show of rubbing his hand across his stomach.

“Uncle Sy, do you think Santa ever takes cookies home for the elves and Mrs. Claus?” Harley stared up at his uncle, his face scrunched at the thought.

“Sure does, bud. I bet he takes one cookie from every house home to share.” Sy winked at his youngest nephew.

Pulling out the hard as rock cookie house pieces, Sy instructed Ben to get the candies from the counter that he'd set out for the purpose of making these a grand master piece. Even The Grinch would appreciate the work that went into a Syverson House.

“So, what's everyone been up to? I feel like I've hardly seen y'all lately.”

If he asked the kids to talk about themselves, it meant that Sy would have to talk less. He loved hearing what the kids had to say. They chattered and laughed, Annie and Harley bickered a little over who got to put the door on the first house. A squabble ended when Sy reached in, putting the pretzel door on the house himself.

Lost in their good cheer, Christmas songs, and general chaos of four children with limited rules – for the time being – Sy sighed and began to relax. Something he hadn't done since Nina had decided to pack up her things and leave him nearly two weeks ago.

Whatever. Five years wasted. If she had known that she didn't want to be with him, then why had she stayed? His brother had a few ideas about that, stating that it was the perfect opportunity for any gold digging – Sy wouldn't even repeat the word to himself. Living in a house that was paid off. A car that was hers. Never having to pay bills, it all allowed her to work and save while she decided one day she'd had enough and wanted something better.

Better. More money.

Well, whoever took her next, Sy wished them luck. He hated that he was so broken about this. But he'd loved her. Maybe. He had his doubts these last few nights, as he sat thinking over a pint or eight at the bar.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow's soft voice broke his thoughts. Glancing down at his niece, he smiled. “When we finish, can we make cookies?”

“What if we make some cookies tomorrow, Wispy?” Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Sy bent to scoop her into his arms. “We can make some sugar cookies to decorate. I also thought I could make ya some snow crackles that you love so much.” he nudged cheek her with his nose.

“The gooey chocolate ones?” Her eyes were wide. Sy nodded. “Benny!” She turned, calling excitedly to her brother who was less than four feet away. “Uncle Sy is going to make us those crack cookies!”

“Crackle.” Sy gently corrected her with a deep laugh.

Sy's snow crackles were always a welcomed hit. Family, friends, even the post man loved the damn things. Hell if he'd had those over in the desert to hand out, the war could have been over in an hour. Or so a few of his superiors had always teased him.

“Can we make them with the candy cane?” Harley asked wiggling in his seat.

“Absolutely!” Sy agreed with a wide smile. A touch of peppermint in the cookies were the perfect Christmas treat. Even better when enjoyed with a nice cup of rum and homemade egg nog. Although he would save that for the adult parties.

“I love Christmas!” A giggling Annie exclaimed, not going unnoticed that she and Ben were enjoying the left over icing for the houses. A tube each, the two older kids were trying to be stealthy about their activities. Nice try Sy thought, they knew nothing got by their Uncle.

“My favourite holiday is my birthday.” Willow declared.

“That's not a holiday.” Ben laughed at his sister, shaking his head.

“Yes it is! It's a holiday, because it celebrates me and Uncle Sy. Right, Uncle Sy? It's a holiday?” Willow pouted at her uncle, hoping for some back up. If Uncle Sy said it was, then it was true.

“I think birthdays are kind of like holidays. We just don't get time off work or school.”

“See!” Willow stuck her tongue out at her brother Ignoring his sister, Ben had already moved on to something else.

“Okay you two, enough.” Sy let Willow down. “Let's get this mess cleaned and we can get some plans for dinner going.”

“Can we have ice cream?” Doing her best puppy dog eyes, Annie looked at her uncle.

“After we eat dinner.” Sy smiled kissing the top of her head.

“Candy cane ice cream?” Harley was hopeful. Sy had never met a kid, or anybody, who loved candy canes as much as his nephew.

“I have some candy cane. I also have chocolate and pecan. Something for everyone.”

“And grape nut for you?” Wrinkling her nose, Willow shivered in disgust. Ice cream was one of the only things she didn't agree with her Uncle on.

“Yes, grape nut for me.”

“You're such an old man.” Ben added gently tossing a candy piece at his uncle's head. Nailing Sy in the side of the cheek, Ben laughed and threw up his hands in victory.

“Oh is that how you want this?” Sy picked up a few candies, launching them back at his nephew. Nailing Ben with four our of five, Sy straightened himself up. “Still got it.”

Gingerbread construction cleaned, photos taken, Sy announced that the children were free of their ugly sweaters. Rushing upstairs to change, shouts and laughter filled the house. Sy, comfortable in his sweater, worked out the decision for dinner. Ordering pizza seemed like the clear winner and nobody would complain.

Four pizzas later, enough variety that everybody had something they liked, Sy announced it was time to settle for a bit and watch some movies. Who could resist? Pizza, as promised ice cream, and various snacks that he always had on hand for the kids. It was the perfect way to spend an evening getting over a break up.

Sprawled out around the den, the kids got comfortable. Blankets and cushions all over. Sy resting on the leather sectional, Willow curled up on his lap – of course. A bowl of candy between them and Harley, who laid stretched out. Annie and Ben occupied a bean bag each, blankets pulled up around them while the decided upon “Miracle on 34th Street” played on the screen.

Dozing on and off, Sy didn't know when it had happened, but at some point the movie had come to an end the dvd menu replaying over and over. A soft whine of his beloved shepherd is what roused him this morning. Scratching his nose and sitting up, Sy scrambled to grab Willow before she slid off of his knee. Around him the kids were asleep, the house quiet and his watch informing him it was nearly dawn.

Gently sliding Willow into his spot on the couch, Sy stood and raised his arms, joints popping and his body waking. Tiptoeing out of the den and to the kitchen, Sy opened the back door letting the dog out. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the dog zoom around, before debating coffee or going back to bed. The kids would sleep another hour or two at least, which would be nice to sleep as well. Coffee won, brewing a fresh pot Sy looked around the kitchen.

His house still, the presence of the kids not going unnoticed, it felt nice to have someone else in the house. The bodies moving and bringing merriment. A kick to the gut, really. Nina having told him that part of her leaving was because she wanted children and he didn't. He loved his nieces and nephews, but full time parenting wasn't a project he was cut out for. Sy sniffled, fuck it. Shaking his head, he grumbled under his breath. She and her notions were gone now.

Opening the back door, he let the dog in. Giving a morning scratch and cooing to his faithful friend. Coffee filled the house with a delicious aroma, Sy poured his first cup and sat at the table watching the backyard. Once this coffee was gone he would get to work on his crackle cookies, they would need to freeze before baking. Tiny, nearly silent foot steps caught his attention. Willow hummed softly as she walked, her momma always told her that it wasn't polite to sneak up on people. Especially Uncle Sy. No matter how much he loved her, sneaking up could scare him and Willow didn't want that.

Sy hated the thoughts of his family feeling like they may not be safe in his presence. But he appreciated her attempt to let him know she was awake and moving around.

“Morning Wispy.” Sy's voice was steady and quiet. Willow giggled lightly. She loved that he knew it was her, without having to look. “Come here.” Sy held out an arm. Willow rushed her last few steps. “Have a good sleep?”

“Uh huh,” she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Morning, Uncle Sy. Did you sleep good?”

“I did,” he nodded taking a sip of his coffee and pushing out his chair. “Have a seat, Miss Henning.”

Climbing into the kitchen chair, Willow sat quietly.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Willow yawned and nodded. “But no coffee, it's yuck and daddy says I'm too little.”

“Your daddy has the right idea,” Sy smiled fondly, pulling out the cocoa mix and Willow's favourite mug. A big mug with a photo of her and Sy's old dog Aika.

“Uncle Sy, are you happy that I came over and brought my brother, Harley, and Anna?”

“Of course, Wispy.”

“Good, because I think you were sad but I didn't want you to be sad. I told my momma that we would make you happy if we came over. I think I was right.” she beamed through tired eyes.

“Wspy, bug, nothing could ever make me happier than you kids.” Scooping the cocoa into the mug, pouring cold milk until the was half full to save it from getting too hot.

“Not even if you had your own kids? Do you think you'll get married and have kids? Momma said...”

“Wispy,” Sy held up a hand to stop the unintentional prying. It was too early. “I will always love you. You're my best gal, yeah? All you need to know, bug, is that I will love you forever.”

“Do you love me more than Christmas cookies?”

“Well,” pausing for effect, Sy took a beat to pretend he was thinking, “I do love Christmas cookies. But yeah, I suppose I love you more than Christmas cookies, even.”

“Good, because I love you more than Christmas cookies, birthday cake, anddd Nana's biscuits.” the little girl wiggled in her seat, giggling.

“More than Nana's biscuits? Oh boy, that is some loving.” Stirring the hot cocoa, Sy lifted the mug and placed it on the table in front of his niece. A can of whipped cream in hand, he shook it before adding more than required to the top of her mug. Sitting down, he glanced at his coffee and shrugged, the hiss of the can when he added a dollop to his coffee. “Cheers,”

“Cheers!” Willow slid her mug a few centimeters to clink it against Sy's.

[rebelpeas]

@zannolin GLADLY. so, last summer me and the gang (my partner, an irl friend, and a beloved tumblr mutual) met up for a fun little road trip to the annual point pleasant mothman festival, which is like pride for nerds, and naturally we HAD to go. in addition to walking around, seeing the frankly laughable (but charming) mothman museum of legend, and commenting “that’s ohio, baby!” after anything went wrong the entire trip, we had one goal: drive out to the woods, perform a summoning ritual, and convince mothman to come hang out with us.

we geared up on supplies saturday afternoon at the local walmart: candles, a lighter, chalk, a few flashlights, and some snacks (what if mothman’s hungry? we have to prepare for these things). one of the snacks in question was a can of off-brand spray cheese, which looked absolutely horrendous, but served a double purpose of being used to dare each other into eating gross food AND we could use it as a (mostly) environmentally safe way to draw on grass. for the summoning circle, of course.

sunday afternoon, after a rainy start to our morning, we set off to the tnt area woods to perform our ritual. we had it all planned out, down to the scp-like music we’d picked out (an a capella cover of country roads which only seemed to exist when we drove through the point pleasant bridge), and the atmosphere was moody and eerie to match.

we drove together, chatting, listening to our song and practicing our chants, and that was our mistake - we started the ritual too early. because all of a sudden, we see in front of us, flopping about in the middle of the road, a creature.

my partner threw on the brakes, skillfully navigating around the thing in the road, and my irl jumped out of the car to scoop it up off the rain-drenched asphalt and drop the tiniest, soggiest kitten i had ever seen in my life, directly in my lap in the passenger seat.

naturally, our priorities for the day immediately upended. now, all four of us agreed that our only goal for the day was to take care of this tiny baby.

we named him cheese pentagram, and assumed he was sent by mothman to greet us. the intention was to drop him off at the nearest animal shelter; he was clearly injured, and we had a seven hour drive home that day — but because it was sunday, every single veterinary clinic and animal shelter was closed. i think i called every animal hospital between ohio and my house trying to find anyone who could take him.

so instead, tiny cheese pentagram spent seven hours on my lap, eating pieces of fast food chicken nuggets and swaddled in a towel donated by a very nice stranger at a gas station. i was absolutely in love with him by the time we made it home, and after a few state lines i gave up calling animal shelters. that was my baby now.

we made it home safely, and little cheese went to the vet on monday where we learned one more surprise from mothman. the vet told us two things: one, cheese would need his injured leg amputated. and two, he was actually a girl.

so yeah. that’s the story of cheese pentagram the bigender cat we accidentally summoned instead of mothman in point pleasant, west virginia and i love her. she’s very happy and living a wonderful life now!

did we ever tell tumblr about cheese pentagram the bigender cat we accidentally summoned via ritual

[onlysarah235678]

A Little Bit Part 4

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Wow this one is a lot longer. Sorry this one took a while. I’m back at work, and then I’ll be back in school. As always, enjoy :) Gif not mine!

Warnings: kitten angst, date fluff, and brief mention of dog distress.

Thursday couldn’t come fast enough for either of you. Vet clinics were always busy during the summer no matter where in the country you were. People had more free time which they happened to spend outside with their pets. More people were bringing their dogs in for snake bites than you were used to back East. That said, you had never seen a dog or cat get bitten by a rattlesnake before, but you were already on your third one this week.

You were still texting Billie when you had the chance, but she was busier this week too so you didn’t usually hear back from her until after work. You were happy to hear that Mickey had been the first kitten to open his eyes on Tuesday and another couple had followed this morning. You were being bombarded with kitten pictures and questions as they got older, but you loved it. They looked so cute, and you were thrilled that Billie was enjoying their company.

She still had someone take care of them during the day, but at night you would usually get a kitten report and a picture of the entire family. Bit was being a little more receptive to taking care of Mickey again now that he was a little bigger, but she still didn’t pay him as much attention as the others. As soon as he was done nursing, he was usually moved meaning that Billie had to keep him around her a lot between feedings to keep him warm.

They didn’t have names yet, but Billie had told you she’d decide once they came in for their visit next week. Hopefully it would be a little easier to tell their sex at this point, but you weren’t optimistic since they would only be a little more than three weeks old. Usually you couldn’t do accurate sex determination until 5 weeks, but at the very least it would be another opportunity to see the kittens and Billie again.

Billie was just as busy as you were this week. Her producer had told her that she had a lot of ADR to do. A majority of her dialogue from the first few episodes needed to be recorded. These episodes had taken place in one of the noisiest buildings she’d ever filmed in. An old school for the mute ironically.

As a result, she’d been spending a lot of time running back and forth between the studio and home this week, and by the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around she was exhausted. She was excited for tomorrow night though. She’d already made a reservation at a restaurant she hoped you’d like. It was nicer than the café and definitely fitting for your first date because it was definitely a date.

Billie was distracted from her plans for tomorrow night by her assistant’s knock on the door. She had been taking her lunch break which was almost over when Michelle came to find her.

Billie turned with a smile assuming the blonde was just going to tell her it was time to get back to work. She hadn’t been expecting the stressed out look she wore. Billie hadn’t even considered what was actually wrong.

“What is it?”

Michelle shifted some of the things in her arms to one side so she could hold up her phone.

“Heather called. There’s been an accident with one of the kittens.”

You were just finishing lunch when Billie called you. You were sitting at your desk trying to finish up some records between eating when you hear your phone buzzing from under the pile of papers. When you realized that the continued buzzing meant someone’s trying to call you, the shifting of papers becomes slightly more frantic. You let most of them drop into your lap or on the floor before you manage to grab your phone. Seeing it’s Billie you smile before answering quickly.

“Hey, Billie, wh-?”

You don’t get to finish your sentence as Billie interrupts you in a frantic voice. You listen carefully while grabbing the nearest pen to take notes.

“Y/N, Heather called. Mickey fell from her pocket. She thinks he’s okay, but would you have time to see him?”

You don’t even bother looking at your schedule knowing that you’d make the time before telling Billie to bring him in. She hesitated slightly before mentioning that she couldn’t leave work and that Heather would be bringing him. You said that was fine before asking if she told you anything specifically about what had happened.

It sounded like he had been moving around more than expected and he’d just walked out of her pocket. She said it was only a few feet, but you said it was still a good idea to bring him in. You hung up with her after promising to give her a call once you took a look at him.

You quickly picked up your papers before putting Mickey on the schedule and heading downstairs to let someone know. Billie said that she was already on her way because she’d called from the car not sure of where to go, so she’d be here soon hopefully.

You get downstairs and see that most people are still on lunch. A few assistants are still on the clock, and the first one you see is on the phone. You go into the back and see that Erin is still eating lunch with another assistant, so you intend to continue your search for someone else when she sees you.

“Hey Dr. Y/L/N. What’s up?”

You decide to tell her because you have a feeling she wouldn’t mind cutting her lunch a little short. You’re not wrong and the brunette jumps up from her seat with a horrified look.

“What happened to the little Howard kitten?!”

You sigh as you explain the situation while Erin goes to the computer to clock back in. She then goes to the schedule and notices immediately that kitten 6 is now named.

“Aw his name’s Mickey. That’s so cute! So is she on her way?”

Erin follows you into the pharmacy as you nod in confirmation before you correct yourself.

“Actually, her pet sitter is bringing him in.”

You don’t miss how Erin visibly deflates at this news, and you feel bad for a second before she sighs in defeat.

“Aw well. They still have their regular kitten visits for me to fangirl over her.”

You barely hold back a laugh as you think about how Billie would respond to this. You have a feeling she’d like having a fan here at the office. Hell there are probably more.

“Have you watched any more of her show?”

The question surprises you but you try not to let it show as you mentally add up all the episodes of Billie’s show you’ve watched since your lunch on Saturday. You watched a couple a night if you weren’t too tired so that’s maybe 10 or so. You say this to Erin and she nods before asking a follow up question. You have no problem answering it because you have some time to kill, but you also don’t want to give anything away.

You hadn’t really considered how things would change at work if you started dating Billie. You doubted your paths would cross here other than when she brought her kittens. You didn’t expect random visits since this was a little out of her way, but you couldn’t be sure. You two hadn’t talked about that because well you hadn’t even gone on a real first date yet.

“Are you liking it? Have you seen the episode when she was in that asylum?”

You nod and open your mouth to respond when you hear the front door open. You hear a frantic voice and figure you know who it is. Erin picks up on this too and goes up front to go ahead and bring them to an exam room. She’d go in as soon as she did in case it was an emergency.

“Heather, can you tell me what happened?”

You felt bad for the younger woman. She was crying and barely calm enough to speak. You had a feeling she was terrified about getting fired or worse and unfortunately you couldn’t really reassure her of anything until you looked at Mickey.

The kitten was definitely bigger since you last saw him and that made you smile, but he was very sedate. He wasn’t bleeding and he had no obvious injuries, but as you carefully examined him, he definitely seemed off. You ignored the sound of Bit meowing from her carrier as Heather wipes her nose with a tissue before shaking her head.

“I was walking downstairs with him in my pocket like usual but before I got to the bottom of the stairs, I felt him fall out. I don’t—I don’t know how he did it, I didn’t feel him move or anything.”

You watch as the redhead begins to cry again and you rush to offer any reassurance you can at this point.

“Well he’s not bleeding so that’s a good sign. Do you know if he hit anything other than the ground? Did he roll down the stairs or anything like that?”

Heather shook her head before telling you that he’d just fallen out and then she saw him at the bottom of the stairs.

“He may have rolled down a few, I’m not sure. God is he going to be okay?”

You continue your exam not noting any abnormal heart rhythm or breathing patterns. You try to stand Mickey up but he definitely doesn’t want to do that. He whines slightly before falling back onto his stomach. You hear Heather mutter a curse before you come up with a plan.

“Has he nursed today, been normal otherwise?”

Heather just nods but she doesn’t look away from Mickey who is resting his head on the table, eyes closed.

“Yeah, completely normal.”

You nod before deciding to listen to him again, just to be sure. You take a minute, still not noticing anything abnormal before you share what you think.

“So the only thing I can appreciate on his exam is that he doesn’t want to stand up. His whining might be from pain, but it’s hard to tell. Does he usually make a lot of noise throughout the day?”

Heather just shakes her head and you nod before doing a couple of calculations in your head.

“Okay. Well there are a couple of things that we can do.”

You tell Heather that you can take x-rays to see if there is anything obviously broken from his fall. They could also just monitor him for the next few hours here before sending him home if nothing changes. The last and least favorable option would be to take him home and just see how he did.

Heather clearly didn’t want to do the last option as she shook her head and took a deep breath.

“No, I think I want to take x-rays to be sure, but I probably need to call Ms. Howard.”

You nod before mentioning that you promised to call her after the exam, and you don’t miss how Heather jumps on this opportunity. You don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to Billie right now. She’s probably upset and Heather’s clearly terrified. She’d buy Heather some time if that’s what she needed.

“You’ll call her?”

You nod before you look to the carrier that you assumed held all of the other kittens. That made sense. Leaving them home alone probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. God forbid something else happened.

“Of course. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll do whatever she wants. Erin’s going to take him back with us, you can wait in here if you like or the lobby.”

Heather just nods and thanks you before you retreat to the nearest phone. Erin is carefully cradling Mickey as she opens the door to the back to take him to treatment as you pick up the phone. You dial Billie’s number and wait for what feels like forever before someone you don’t recognize answers.

“Hello, this is Michelle, Ms. Howard’s assistant speaking.”

“Hi Michelle, I’m Dr. Y/L/N at Sunset clinic. I just finished looking at Mickey.”

You hear rustling in the background before hurried footsteps follow as Michelle quite possibly runs somewhere.

“Oh, you’re the vet! Great, just give me one second to find her.”

You just nod muttering ‘not a problem’ while you wait for Michelle to track Billie down. It doesn’t take long and you hear Michelle’s muffled voice saying that it’s you on the phone and Billie’s quick thank you before her voice is in your ear.

“Y/N, how is he?”

You relay what you’d told Heather to Billie and she is eerily quiet when you finish your explanation of the possible next steps. It isn’t until she speaks that you realized she jumped to worst case scenario.

“What will you have to do if he’s broken something?”

You try to figure out how to tell the most truth without getting into all of the possible complications.

“It would depend on what he broke, but I couldn’t get him to react to anything other than trying to make him stand. He was fine for everything else.”

Billie sighs and you swear you hear the flick of a lighter in the background. You don’t have to wait long for the medium to make her decision about what to do next. You’re not surprised by her decision at all. You know how much she adores Mickey.  

“Okay. You can go ahead and do x-rays, but is it possible for him to stay there for the rest of the day? I don’t want Heather to have to worry anymore about him.”

You nod because you were going to suggest keeping him here regardless. Not only was Heather really frazzled, but your techs here would be able to monitor him closely and bottle feed him.

“Of course, I’ll have my assistant take the x-rays while I go tell Heather.”

Billie sighs heavily before nodding in approval. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You smile briefly before hanging up and getting to work.  “Of course, Billie.”

Erin calls you into x-ray a couple of minutes later and you’re eternally grateful when you don’t see any broken bones. You look at the images taken thoroughly before you decide that there’s nothing concerning. Everything looks normal for a 2-week-old kitten. You’re relieved to get to tell Billie this, and you call her while holding Mickey in your lap.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi Billie. So good news, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary for him. No broken bones.”

Billie sighs in relief before taking a drag. “Thank goodness. You’ll still keep him there though?”

“Definitely. We’ll keep a close eye on him for you and you can pick him up at the end of the day.”

Billie doesn’t need to look at her schedule to know that it will be a long day, so she shakes her head.

“I’ll probably have Michelle pick him up. I’m going to be working late.”

After everything is arranged, you talk to Michelle again to get her information before hanging up. Lunch is officially over and your first afternoon appointment is here. You sigh before realizing that you need to get Mickey set up before talking to Heather. You suspect that Erin popped in and told her that everything was fine, so you take your time setting up a space for Mickey and talking to your techs about the plan.

Hopefully it will be an easy, uncomplicated afternoon for him.

Despite knowing that Mickey wasn’t in any immediate danger, it was difficult for Billie to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon. She’d called Heather to confirm that she was going home and would be able to stay late with the other kittens. She made sure to let her know that she wasn’t angry at her. Just thinking about how panicky she’d been during the conversation they’d had as she drove to the vet was enough to make Billie feel bad. Once she was satisfied that she’d calmed Heather’s nerves to the best of her ability, she tried to finish up everything that needed to be done today so she could go home and see Mickey.

She still had almost a full episode-worth of dialogue to record by the end of the day. Things were moving slowly because she had to rewatch all of the footage to time everything correctly. Billie supposed it wasn’t taking any more time than usual, she was just stressed.

Michelle had been nice enough to offer to call and check up on Mickey every so often, but you’d insisted that he would be fine. You’d promised to call if anything changed, so Billie tried to resist being an overbearing parent and refused to check in.

The blonde brought another cup of coffee into the recording booth Billie was in, and she shot the other woman a grateful look.

“Thank you, dear.”

Michelle just nodded with a small smile. “Of course. Is there anything else you need, Billie?”

The medium shakes her head before taking a long sip of coffee. She wished that she could have a cigarette, but that would have to wait until her next break. Which wasn’t going to be for a while.

“No, thank you, Michelle.”

The blonde leaves Billie alone in the booth for the next few minutes she has before she begins recording again. She takes a deep breath before looking back to the pages in front of her. This wouldn’t take too long, if she focused.

Billie didn’t even believe that lie by the time she started reading.

When you went to check on Mickey next, it was after your 3pm appointment. You’d gotten really busy and hadn’t been able to spare a glance at the kitten. You knew that your techs were taking good care of him, but you also felt obligated to watch over him as well. Not just because it was your job, but because you were worried. Mickey had a lot going against him. Being the runt, basically being rejected by Bit and now falling down the stairs.

He was a tough little guy for sure, but you just wanted to make sure that all of Billie’s love and attention wasn’t wasted. You had to make sure that this kitten made it. even if it meant checking on him every chance you got.

When you arrived to the back of treatment where he was being kept you smiled at the sight of him sleeping. He looked adorable.

“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”

You turn to see one of your techs watching you from where she’s cleaning instruments at the sink. You nod, not able to stop the smile on your face from growing wider as you watch him shift slightly in his sleep.

“He is. He’s gotten so big since I last saw him.”

Mina smiles as she finishes up what’s she doing before she comes over to stand next to you. You turn to her as she opens the door so you can get a good look at him.

“He’s been the perfect patient. He loved his formula and mostly just lies there. He was walking around a little while ago. If you can call it walking.”

You turn back to him with a smile glad to hear that he’s doing well. He opens his eyes a little at the sound of the door and makes the cutest mewling sound. As you watch him wake up more fully and wiggle around in his blankets you wonder how the hell Billie Dean is going to give him up.

“Here, doc. Did you want to feed him?”

Mina’s holding a small bottle filled with milk and you don’t hesitate to nod before taking it from her with a quiet thanks.

“He’s going to go fast if she brings him back here to be adopted out.”

You nod but otherwise say nothing because you have no doubt about this. Hell, if Billie doesn’t want him you’ll take him. Maybe.

You’re not sure Milo would like that.

After fawning over Mickey for a few minutes, you have to put him back in his bed when your next appointment arrives. You sigh as you look at the clock, it’s only 3:40. You’ve got almost three hours left of work at least. That doesn’t seem like much, but then you have the day off tomorrow and a whole day to prepare for your date with Billie.

As you make your way to the front of the clinic you remind yourself to figure out where you’ll be going sooner rather than later.

Billie Dean was finally done with work for the day. It was already 7 and getting home might take an hour with traffic. She was exhausted and ready to go home and sleep. Well first she had to check on the kittens of course. Mickey had been picked up and dropped off with Heather about 2 hours ago.

Michelle had called to tell her that Y/N had said that everything went well during his stay. He’d even walked around a little. Billie was thrilled to hear this and it took all of her self-control to not groan at the traffic she was already in.

While she sits stuck in traffic she thinks about your plans for tomorrow. Billie hadn’t told you where you were going yet, but she planned on calling you once she got home. Both to give you a heads up about tomorrow’s date but also to thank you. She was extremely grateful that you were able to see Mickey today and that you had been flexible. She knew it was your job, but she just felt better knowing that you were the one taking care of him. She knew that you wouldn’t lie to her.

By the time she got home, she was so tired she could fall asleep. She hadn’t realized how stressful it was dealing with work and worrying about the kittens until she stepped into her house and saw Heather sitting on the couch with Mickey in her lap.

“Ms. Howard.”

Billie just shook her head as she walked further into the room and gestured for the redhead to stand up. She did so, placing Mickey on the couch carefully—he was fast asleep before turning toward the older woman. She was ready to be yelled at, but when she was just pulled into a hug she was too stunned to react immediately. Eventually, when Billie squeezed a little harder, she realized that she had just been standing dumbly and finally hugged the medium back.

“Thank you for today. I’m sorry if you were worried about how I’d react.”

When Billie pulled away and immediately looked to Mickey, Heather moved out of the way so she could get to him. She was still a little on edge and felt like she at least needed to apologize again. She didn’t get very far though before Billie shook her head from where she was now sitting on the couch with Mickey on her lap.

“Still, I’m sorry I--.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie. It’s okay, I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Heather sighs in defeat but doesn’t argue as she gathers her things to get ready to leave. She mentions how the other kittens are doing fine and she’d just seen them nursing. Billie smiles before she thanks Heather again and watches as she leaves through the front door.

Billie releases a sigh before she picks Mickey up carefully and inspects him. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She smiled as he opened his eyes and made a small sound that made Billie want to crush him in a hug. She didn’t of course, and she just stood up and headed upstairs to change so she could carry him around with her to find some dinner.

You are still in the office when Billie Dean texts you. You got a little behind with records today and you had a few more to get to before you could head home. The buzzing of your phone pulls you from thoughts of skin allergies and you turn in your chair to look for the device. You stand up only for it to fall to the ground, having forgotten that you’d put it on your lap. You sigh before you bend over to pick it up along with some of the papers you have scattered on the floor.

You’re usually very organized, but this week has been a little crazy and staying on top of things has been difficult. It is especially difficult to concentrate when you always have a certain blonde and her kittens on your mind. You unlock your phone and see that Billie’s asking if you’re still at work.

You sigh again because unfortunately you are at least for the next 20 minutes. If you’re lucky. You have two more records to write up, and one of them was a little involved. You say something brief to this effect and continue typing while you wait for her response.

Billie is wondering if you usually stay at work this late. It was 8 o clock and she was barely hanging on to consciousness. She wouldn’t be awake if it weren’t for the glass of wine and the dinner she was forcing herself to eat. She sat with Mickey beside her on a makeshift bed as she looked through emails on her computer. It was late and she wasn’t answering any of them now. She was mostly being a little creepy and seeing what she could find out about you.

It only seemed fair since you’d Googled her.

That said, there was a lot less on you than there was on her. Billie was able to find out where you went to school, and she saw your graduation pictures, but you weren’t really on social media. Your Facebook hadn’t been updated in months and nothing she found really told her anything more than you had on Saturday.

Except one thing.

Billie didn’t read it though. Billie wanted to hear about Y/N from her instead of the internet or any other means. She closed her computer when her phone beeped and when she saw your message, she realized that almost half an hour had passed since you’d told her you were still working.

We’re leaving now.

Attached to the text was a picture of Milo jumping up from where he stood next to you. You were holding up something that must have been a treat because Milo’s mouth was wide opened and headed straight for your hand. Billie considered calling you now, but figured you shouldn’t be distracted when you drive. Instead she sent you a text.

Let me know when you’re home? I’ll tell you where we’re going tomorrow.

Billie sees that you’re typing, and once she gets an ‘ok’ in response she puts her phone down and heads upstairs. She needs to put Mickey with Bit for a while and see if he’ll nurse. She also needed a cigarette and really didn’t want to smoke around Mickey. All of the cats really, but only Mickey was ever in her pocket.

The other cats were all getting so big. They were still tiny, but they were much bigger than when she’d found them under the deck just a couple of weeks ago. All of them had opened their eyes at this point, and a lot of the time she sees them they’re trying to crawl around. She hasn’t seen that any of them leave the laundry room, but if they do, Bit herds them all back to bed so she’s none the wiser.

Once Mickey is settled with his brothers and sisters, Billie showers and is already in bed by the time you get home.

You let Milo run inside first before you head to the living room and collapse on the couch. You know that you need to eat dinner, but you’re so tired that you can’t even fathom getting up right now. You roll onto your back before digging your phone out of your pocket.

I’m home. Do I get to know where we’re going now?

Almost as if she wants to hold you in suspense, it takes Billie almost 10 minutes to respond. Little did you know she was just checking on the cats one last time before leaving them to sleep. Luckily Bit had allowed all of the kittens to stay in bed with her during the night. It was only during the day, according to Heather, that Bit tries to push Mickey out onto the floor, if not move him to a different room altogether.

She arrives back to her bedroom to see that you’ve texted her. She smiles at your question before she finally tells you where she’s made reservations for tomorrow night.

You stare at your phone before you go to Google to figure out what restaurant this is. You really need to get out more. You see that it’s literally the fanciest restaurant you’ve never been to. You look at the menu because you have to plan ahead, and your eyes widen at the prices you see next to the dishes you’re not sure you can pronounce.

You hadn’t been super stressed about this date, only moderately stressed, but this just changed that.  You had never been treated to something like this, and despite the fact that it made you feel all sorts of dizzy, you weren’t sure you deserved it. You wondered how you could put this when another text message came in as you were still staring blankly at the menu.

If you don’t want to go there, I can change the reservation.

You quickly open the text preparing to deny this, but you stop. It’s not that you don’t want to go there. Sure it’s a little intimidating and you feel like you’ll stick out like a sore thumb, but the idea of going there with Billie is a little…exhilarating. You briefly look to your closet trying to think of what you’d wear before you make your decision.

You’ve been telling yourself to go outside of your comfort zone since you’d moved here. Honestly you hated the idea of doing so, but having someone that you trust with you…You knew Billie would make sure you were comfortable. Clearly, since she was already checking in with you. Finally you sighed with a small smile. You were touched that she was being so thoughtful already and decided to take this chance. How bad could it be if Billie was with you?

Thursday night finally arrives and after spending a whole day lounging around and anticipating tonight’s date it’s finally time. Your first date with Billie. Since you plan things down to the minute, you arrived to the restaurant a little early. You were grateful since traffic had been, well L.A traffic. You honestly hadn’t lived in a big city before and you getting used to there being so much traffic all the time. You pulled into the parking lot only to be directed to the valet. Right. That happened here.

You get out of the car and sigh as the night air hits you. This is going to be fine. It will be fun damn it. It will be. You continue to tell yourself this as you make your way inside. You can’t help but look around at the predictably decorated interior. You don’t pay it much mind as you wait until the hostess is free and looks to you with a smile.

“Hi, how are you? Do you have a reservation?”

You smile as you nod and mention that you are supposed to be meeting Billie Dean Howard. She shoots you a curious look, but once you give your name she nods and leads you further into the restaurant.

You walk past a lot of people and you swear you see a celebrity or two, but you’re not here for them. You’re looking around in search of a familiar blonde when you spot her from over the hostess’s shoulder. You smile at the sight of Billie Dean sitting at a booth waiting for you.

She’s wearing another silk blouse, but this time she’s also wearing a string of pearls. You nearly run into the hostess you’re too busy staring at the medium’s hair that is styled a little differently, but luckily you stop just in time.

You wait until she turns to leave before you move to sit across from Billie. You smile as you get situated before looking to Billie again.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

Billie taps her fingernails on the table, smiling as she watches you look to them before shaking her head.

“Not at all. I was trying to get here before you after all.”

You don’t have time to think about why this could be before Billie tells you. She’s smirking at your confused look but it soon turns flustered when she explains.

“I wanted to be able to watch you walk in.”

You couldn’t help but blush slightly at this and you shoot her a curious, teasing look.

“Well, was it worth it?”

Billie’s eyes light up, and you swear she looks impressed as she nods and shoots you a dazzling smile.

“More than. You look stunning, Y/N.”

You smile before taking a second chance to look at Billie and you blush harder when you see that her smile has turned to a smirk again.

“You too, Billie. You always look beautiful though.”

The medium scoffs and mutters something about that being nonsense. You don’t get a chance to argue with her before your waitress shows up. The tall blonde smiles at the two of you before handing each of you a menu.

“Good evening. My name’s Taylor and I’ll be your server for tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

You had completely neglected to look at the drink menu, so you let Billie go first while you frantically searched through the list of drinks. You’d already decided that you were going to get something with alcohol. You were still a little tense and you knew that drinking tended to help you with this. As long as you didn’t overdo it.

So you ordered your favorite drink that wouldn’t get you more than a little tipsy before looking back across the table at Billie. You tried not to stare, but you just couldn’t believe what you saw. Part of you believed that if you closed your eyes, you’d find yourself back at your apartment realizing that this was all a dream. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to attract the attention of someone like Billie Dean.

You were just grateful for Bit and her kittens bringing Billie to the clinic and into your life.

You’re still admiring the woman across from you when Taylor walks away. She looked back to you feeling herself want to smile again at your adoring look. She was accustomed to attracting attention. It came with the territory of being on television. She was used to people staring at her, fawning over her, and sometimes leering at her.

This wasn’t that though. You were looking at her with something that resembled awe, and that made her feel appreciated in a way she hadn’t for a long time. You weren’t with her tonight because of her money or her fame. You were after something else that Billie was quickly realizing, she was all too willing to give.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.”

You snap out of your trance and shoot Billie a shamefaced look. You mutter an apology that you don’t really mean. Well you didn’t mean to stare, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for appreciating Billie Dean. You wanted to make sure that you never stopped doing that.

“Sorry, I—I don’t have a good excuse. I’m just—I really need to thank Bit for having her kittens under your house.”

Billie laughs at this as Taylor comes back to set your drinks down. You both need a little more time to look over the menu, so the blonde leaves as you start to look for the dish you’d seen earlier today.

When you watch Billie pick up her glass of wine but not take a sip you look up from your menu with a frown. She’s smiling at you as she looks between you and your glass, and you quickly take the hint. You grab your glass too and hold it up with a grin.

“To our second date.”

Your smile disappears as your brows furrow in confusion. Billie has to stop herself from mentioning how cute it looks.

“Second?”

Billie can’t stop herself from laughing; however, as she nods in confirmation. She could practically see your internal struggle and had to ask.

“Yes, did you not count Saturday?”

You flushed at the thought of Saturday being a date, meaning that this dinner was not your first date. You shook your head before shrugging at the realization that you were just dumb. You’d been so damned stressed with first date jitters only for this to be the second date.

You were a mess sometimes.

“I just—wasn’t sure, I guess. Am now though.”

Billie smiled at you again before she clinked your glasses together and took a sip of her wine. She didn’t break eye contact with you and you took a long sip of your drink to hide how her watching you made you feel all hot and bothered.

“Good. It’s settled then.”

You just nod dumbly before returning your attention to the menu in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You found the dish that you’d been eying earlier before turning to Billie. You plan to ask her if she’s been here before when she beats you to it.

“You can, by the way.”

Now you’re really confused. You must have missed something. What had you just been talking about?

“What?”

The only response you had to what Billie Dean just said only made her smile wider. She shrugged as she opened her own menu, but didn’t really look at it. She was still watching you as she clarified her meaning.

“You can thank Bit, if you’d like. After this.”

Billie’s biting her lip to stop from laughing too loudly at how quickly your face turns red. She just can’t resist watching you flush so prettily at even the faintest suggestion. You just take a deep breath before muttering something that might be ‘dear god’ as you nod absentmindedly.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe—I mean—I haven’t seen the other kittens in forever.”

Billie Dean smiles victoriously before she decides to be merciful. She gives you a break as she changes the subject.

“Have you always wanted to be a vet?”

The abrupt change of subject surprises you despite how relieved you are. You’re not sure why you always act like such a prude around Billie. You’re not. It’s just the idea of that, doing any of that with the medium makes your head spin. If you think too much into it you might faint, so you are eager to answer Billie’s question and retreat from dangerous territory.

“No, definitely not. It wasn’t until the second year of college that I really committed to it.”  

Billie asks what influenced your decision, so you tried to explain it in the most concise way possible. You didn’t want to drone on or tell your entire life story. It’s just there wasn’t a one sentence answer to this. You’d gone from wanting to be a paleontologist to a marine biologist to a dentist (for the money), to a physical therapist before finally deciding on being a vet.

“When I was in high school, I went with my mom every weekend to visit my grandfather. I helped take care of him and everything and thought that’s what I wanted to do. It didn’t last too long though.”

You see from the way that Billie’s looking at you, that she has questions. You aren’t sure what she’s going to ask, but your waitress is back to take your orders before she gets the chance to. Billie fidgets slightly tapping her nails against the table while you order and it isn’t until you’re alone again that you consider what the cause might be.

Billie’s in the process of putting her hand back in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting when you speak up. You’re not sure you’re right, but you want to at least say this so Billie knows where you stand.

“Are you okay?”

Billie frowns in confusion not realizing that you’d caught onto her nervous tick until she sees how you’re studying her. Still she nods and tries to play it off, but you don’t let her dismiss you that easily.

“I’m fine, Y/N.”

You decide to take the risk.

“Are you sure because you look like you could use a cigarette, or at least a stronger drink. I wouldn’t mind either.”

Billie smiles wryly at this, laughing under her breath as she shakes her head. You just keep surprising her.

“Maybe, but I can only have one of those in here.”

That didn’t occur to you immediately, but a quick look around tells you that she’s probably right. You nod more to yourself than her before you take another sip of your drink.

“True.”

You sit in silence for a while before you realize that you hadn’t returned Billie’s question. You are curious to know the answer because honestly, you’re not sure what you could see Billie doing, other than her current job of course. There were so many possibilities.

“What about you? What did pre-medium Billie Dean want to do?”

Billie frowns as she considers this and you almost become worried before the medium merely shrugs her shoulders in response.

“I wanted to play tennis, but then my calling…called.”

You remember what you’d read about Billie becoming a medium at the age of 25. Then you think about 25-year-old Billie playing tennis. You’d never been a fan of the sport because you were terrible at it, but you definitely wouldn’t say no to watching Billie play.

“You played tennis?”

You’re really just asking for elaboration, but when Billie just smiles, you prompted her.

“Were you any good?”

Whether she realizes it or not, Billie Dean sits up a little straighter practically preening before she shoots you a cocky smile.

“I was unbeatable for a while.”

There are so many ways you could respond to this, but you settle on the teasing response that comes to mind first. You secretly just want to know if Billie still plays and if she’s as competitive as you think.

“You mean you’re not anymore?”

Billie sighs at the thought because she hasn’t played competitively in years. She’s been a little busy getting her career off the ground. It had been difficult for many reasons. First of all no one believed that she had this gift of speaking to the dead. She was quickly written off as nuts and proving them wrong took a lot more work than it would have if she’d been a man.

Luckily most of those struggles were behind her, and the worst she had to deal with was people asking her too personal questions because for some reason they felt like they had a right to know.

“It’s been years since I’ve played.”

You laugh before nodding in understanding. You’re going to have to find out more about Billie playing tennis later. For now, you’re going to behave and just let your imagination run wild.

“Did you play any sports?”

You try not to laugh at the fact that yes, you did, and it was not only the most stereotypically lesbian sport, but you also weren’t good at it. You definitely weren’t unbeatable like Billie. You shrug your shoulders before trying not to make 6 years of softball seem like a big deal. It wasn’t really. The team needed people and then you realized you liked it.

You ironically didn’t realize you were gay until you started crushing on someone on your team, but there was no way you were telling Billie that.

“I wasn’t that good. I just ran fast and occasionally caught things.”

Billie asked what position you’d played and you mentioned that you’d been catcher for a couple of years before you were moved to outfield. It had been a good and bad move. Good because being catcher stressed you out, but bad because your ADHD made it easier to zone out while you were standing in the outfield.

“It was mostly just running. A lot of running.”

Billie smiled at this as she considered what you’d told her recently about your dislike of running, and exercise in general.

“Did you lose your taste for it back then?”

You nod because it’s true. You definitely dislike running, but sometimes it’s the only thing that you can do to destress. Also Milo would never let you stop completely. He liked it too much. You say this and this reminds Billie of something she’s been meaning to ask. You mention your dog a lot and she feels bad that she’s never asked more about him.

“I never asked. Have you had him since he was a puppy?”

Without realizing it, you finish up your drink and sigh at the seemingly simple question. You hadn’t ever mentioned having Milo as a puppy because then you’d have to explain how you got him. Or rather from whom. However, it seemed like you weren’t going to be able to avoid talking about this anymore, so you just decided to be as honest as possible. Just without revealing too much of your baggage.

“Yeah, I actually got him from my ex. Her parents bred German Shepherds, and they said they couldn’t sell Milo because he was too small and sick.”

Billie frowned at the idea of this for a couple of reasons. She decided to focus on Milo for now because she was hopeful she would hear more about your ex later if you ever opened up to her about your past. For now, she wondered how anyone could want to abandon a puppy.

“That’s horrible.”

You just nodded because you remember how horribly your ex had put it when she’d told you. She’d been so nonchalant as if this sort of thing happened all of the time and that it was okay. That wasn’t quite the end of your relationship, but it was very close to it. Things just went downhill from that point.

“Yeah, it was. He had gotten sick and as a result became blind in one eye. They were just going to—well I’m not sure exactly what they would have done with him, but I jumped on the chance to adopt him.”

Billie smiles as you say this because she can tell just by how you talk about him that he’s your whole world. He’s your baby. Like how Mickey’s become hers.

“How long ago was this?”

You spent way too long talking about your dog and how the past two years had been for you. Your meal came while you were telling Billie the story of how Milo had gotten his head stuck in a wall and you two could barely thank Taylor you were so close to crying you were laughing so hard.

“I had left him for maybe an hour to run an errand and I come back to hear him screaming bloody murder.”

It had been terrifying to open the door and immediately hear him screaming in distress. You had honestly thought that he had hurt himself somehow despite how careful you’d been with cleaning your room.

“I thought he was dying I was so freaked out, then I see that he’s literally chewed through the wall into the hallway, but he got stuck in the second layer of drywall.”

Billie was laughing so hard she could barely choke out the only three words that came to mind. “Oh my god.”

You nod before rolling your eyes at the thought of how much damage the puppy had caused. He’d only been 5 months old at the time.

“I know. He broke a tooth and had to get stitches from thrashing. It was a mess.”

Billie’s wiping the tears from her eyes as she shakes her head in disbelief. He sounds like a handful, but she can’t wait to meet him. She says this and you smile before agreeing quickly. You know that Milo will love Billie. He honestly loves most people, but you’ve learned that he is a good judge of character.

You both took a moment to taste your food. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, and you had to force yourself not to stuff your face. You reach for your drink, only to realize it’s empty before you just grab your water. You’re not sure you want another one yet.

“So you never did tell me what it takes.”

Your attention returns to Billie who is shooting you a questioning look. You don’t realize what she’s talking about, but your frown of confusion prompts Billie to continue.

“You said that your belief in the supernatural depends on certain things. Do you care to elaborate on that?”

Your eyes light up in realization before you smile in response. Since you’d promised Billie that you’d explain this you’d been trying to figure out how to say it in a way that didn’t sound too generic. Sure you believed in the supernatural, but did you believe that contact with spirits was as common as it is portrayed in the media? Not at all.

You take another second to get your thoughts together before you tell Billie what you think. She just listens carefully nodding every now and then as you explain your views based on your limited understanding.

“I definitely believe, but—I don’t know. There are so many different representations of the supernatural that some of it seems farfetched. I guess, I just mean that if you told me that ghosts are around us all of the time, I’d need some proof before I believe you.”

Billie’s expression stayed neutral, but she mentally cursed herself for not wording this question better. She hadn’t anticipated you saying that because now what could she say in response? She didn’t want to tell you what she’d picked up on the first time she’d met you. That would certainly freak you out, and you didn’t want to get too personal too early into…whatever you two were heading towards.

Billie didn’t dwell on this too much fully realizing that she needed to respond to what you said. She wasn’t sure if you sensed her hesitation, but she just decided to default to her flirty nature.

“I’ll have to show you how it’s done sometime then.”

The innuendo is not wasted on you because Billie sees you flush slightly before nodding in agreement. You muttered something under your breath that resembled ‘sounds good’ before taking another bite of food. You may need that second drink after all.

About an hour later, you two had finished up dinner and dessert. Billie had kept her promise and paid before you could even open your mouth to argue. She hadn’t played fair because you’d been distracted and hadn’t noticed Taylor come up to the table with the check. Still, you didn’t get a chance to pout before Billie was shooting you a questioning look. It wasn’t teasing and you were a little surprised by this given what she asked. However, you had already made up your mind just moments after she’d asked you the first time.

“So, do you want to go see the kittens?”

Of course you did. You wanted to make sure that Mickey was okay, and check up on the other kittens as well. You wanted to check on Billie’s cats. That was the only reason why you wanted to go to her house. You had no ulterior motive whatsoever.

“Let’s do it.”

Part 5

[annakie]

Warning, pet illness and sadness within.  This is for me to pour out my emotions somewhere.

Friday, everything was fine.

Leela demanded pets all throughout the day, to the point where I had to ask her to quiet down a time or two while I was trying to work. She ran and jumped onto the counters in the kitchen and bathroom when I went, yelling at me to turn the water on so she could, and did, drink out of the faucets.  She demanded dinner at dinnertime, and a day or two before that, she asked for extra dinner when the bowl she and Pemily share most nights ran out.

When it was time for treats, she purred up a storm, excited, as always, for her treats.  She gets extras, she always does.  She starts with four before Pemily and Fry get any, and if she catches up to me while all three of them are getting their first five treats, round-robin, one at a time, I’ll usually give her two. She gobbled them up. 

Yesterday, I noted late in the day that she hadn’t run into the bathroom or kitchen with me during the day, but that’s OK, she doesn’t always.  But then she didn’t care about dinner, even though they were having the flaked tuna, which they all love.  Not long after, she puked, and it was all water.  Then, I started to worry.

She pooped right next to her bed... which she has done occasionally, but rarely.  She had puked earlier in the week, necessitating me to wash her bed, but that wasn’t extremely unusual.  But several non-hairball, non-food pukes later, I was very concerned.

Then she didn’t eat treats.

It wasn’t the first time she’s gone a day or so not wanting food, but got better after maybe a hairball or something.  So I decided to sleep in the living room, close enough that I could hear if anything went terribly wrong.  I tried moving her bed into the living room but she was having none of it, she only likes being in Her Spot on the desk in the office.  Right within arms reach of me all day while I work from home and all night when I game, scroll tumblr/twitter, chat... or whatever else.

I have loved always having her this close since in early 2018 I made what most people would use as their living room into my office and moved my huge desk from work into my house when they let us take the now-unwanted office furniture home.  Immediately after this desk was set up, she jumped into that spot... and just stayed.  She staked her territory.  I put a small blanket down for a day or two until that weekend when I went and got two more cat beds to supplement the one we already had.  Leela’s was the smallest, perfectly Leela-sized for the tiniest cat.  I’ve never seen her so expressively happy than the first time she got into it.  Purrs and biscuit making, and she has spent nearly all her non-eating/drinking/bodily function time right there in that bed ever since.  Occasionally she’d come hang with Fry, Pemily and I in the living room while we were watching TV, but rarely.

But anyway, I digress.

I woke up several times during the night and each time she was a little more listless.  I’d called the emergency vets near me and they said I could bring her in but it’d be several hours for her to wait unless it was critical, they’d gotten slammed and one had to do emergency surgery and was sending all the patients to the other one.  So I decided to wake up early and take her in.  I called ahead and they said they were not backed up anymore.

So Leela’s favorite blanket and Leela went into the carrier.  She was strong enough to put up a little fight and complain about it.  I told her I loved her and the doctor would make her feel better as we drove.  I hated that I couldn’t even take her to my vet, the vet she’d seen her entire life, but they’re closed Sundays and I knew waiting longer would be bad.

Due to COVID, they wouldn’t let me go inside with her.  Sensible.  I waited in the parking lot for an hour and a half as they took her in, called me to take her history, ask what’s wrong, and eventually the vet called, and asked permission to do labwork, and that I should go home if I was still in the parking lot.

I did.  I laid down with Fry and Pemily and tried not to worry.  An hour later they called and said her labwork looked bad.  Her kidneys are failing.  They want to admit her for 24 - 48 hours.  I held it together through the labwork results and the vet asking for permission.  A few minutes later they called back to get a deposit on the payment ($2000.... so grateful I haven’t been spending money for the last year, money isn’t yet an issue.) and then asked me the question I was dreading and not prepared to answer.  Do I want a DNR?

She’s sixteen.  She’s frail.  She’s already traumatized from all this, I’m sure.  Do I want them to take extreme measures to save her life?  My breath hitched as I said what I felt was the better answer -- No.  I lost it, barely making my way through the rest of the call.

Cried for the last couple of hours.  Just went to bed and sat there and sobbed, rehersing in my mind... what if they call and she died suddenly and I wasn’t there?  Am I sure I made the right decision?  What if she doesn’t get better and I have to make the call to put her to sleep?  Will they let me even be there then? 

She’s my Itty Bitty Leela Kitty.  She’s the one who will always take affection, who begs for it like no other to the point where I have to ask her to stop.  She cries for love.  She’s been a pain in the ass since day 1 because of bathroom issues, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything, especially since I figured out the compromise to keep us both happy with it.  She’s sweet, and just the cutest little thing.  She’s the bravest of all my cats, nothing phases her.  She’s fearless of strangers, accepting pets from all and sometimes even asking for them from those she doesn’t know.  She just wants to chill out in her bed and get loved on.  She’s great at telling time.  She weights less than 5 pounds and she’s 80% lungs. 

She’s bullied by Fry and Pemily but they’ll miss her too, and always respected that her bed is her space, and she’s allowed on countertops to eat and drink, too.  Just, you know, not on the floor.

I’d been thinking the last few weeks that one time when she WOULD have her once-daily run around the house and scream time, late morning when Fry and Pemily were settled in for daytime naps, I needed to record it because as annoying as it could be when I’m in work meetings, I knew someday I’d desperately want to hear it again.  And I never did, and now I’m terrified I will never hear it again. 

There’s nothing to do now but wait and hope.  I so badly want her to come home and have just a little more time.  Hear her mewl for attention.  Just a few more treat times.  Just a few more times to hear her yell at me to turn on the faucet for her to drink.  wrap her in my arms in her bed and listen to her breathe and kiss her head and tell her I love her.     I did that a lot last night but I should have done it more this morning.  And if it is her time, please just let me be there next to her as she goes.

[captain-aralias]

Life stuff

this feels kind of weird, because i’ve never used my tumblr like this, but i would have written something on my livejournal, and i want people to know - i just dont want to have to tell people about it, or really talk about it at all. 

but i also wanted to write this, idk. 

(TW: impending death of a parent)

my mum has cancer. 

it’s a rare form of cancer, called peritoneal cancer, which is similar to but different from ovarian cancer - i think it mostly gets diagnosed (like my mum’s) when it’s too late to do anything about it. all the treatment has been palliative only i.e. letting her live as long and as comfortably as possible.

she was diagnosed in september last year - about a year ago, a few months after running the ‘virtual’ london marathon on the isle of wight, where she lives, and obviously deep in lockdown. 

as someone undergoing chemo, she was deemed extremely vulnerable to covid, and so she spent most of the early pandemic isolating. she also said she didn’t see any point in my brother and i visitng her, particularly given the risks, because we could talk via facetime - which is fair enough - all of which meant my brother and i didn’t go to visit her until May this year, after she’d done the first lot of chemo and was already doing much better again. 

a few months after that, we found out that while she’d responded really well to the chemo, her cancer wasn’t responding at all to the maintenance drugs that were suposed to stop it coming back, so she came off the drugs completely. medical advice was basically chemo is as effective whenever you do it, so you might as well enjoy your life for a while, we’ll monitor it every month, and when things start to get too bad, we’ll put you back in chemo. 

it’s friday tomorrow - so two fridays ago, i saw my mum in london after she’d just seen hamilton with her partner, graham. both of them loved hamilton. her hair had grown back, she seemed pretty normal. about a week later, she was in A&E - and she’s been in the hospital all week. she’s got a total bowel obstruction, which means she can’t eat and hasn’t eaten since last week.

now in a weird situation where there are a few tricky, difficult options (including being moved off the island back onto the mainland to a bigger hospital) that will mean that she stays alive long enough to get the chemo, which will probably get her back to hamilton-watching strength, or ... she could die really soon. like, in a few days. 

we can’t visit. her partner can’t visit because covid - there’s this really sad-making photo of him looking happy on the phone through a window to my mum, also on the phone, inside the hospital. 

i feel...

???? :( :( :( ....

i guess this is the main point of the post. i’m not writing this crying, i’m writing it pretty neutrally - because my brain isn’t really processing it right now, and mostly doesn’t process it. 

i did cry earlier today while on the phone to various people, and then i went back to work. i hate crying, i hate being sad, and i dont like people comforting me, because it makes me realise that i have something to be sad about. 

i’ve known she had cancer for a year. i haven’t been able to hang out with her most of that time. i would say, we are fairly close, although not nearly as close as some families. we don’t talk every week, but we talk regularly, and have seen each other regularly. 

i’m so incredibly privileged that nothing that bad has ever happened to me, even though i’m 35. i’ve never been to a funeral, which seemed like a major life win and now i think was a mistake, i should have gone to funerals for people i card about less to help get used to it. 

the literal only comparison i have to how i feel is when my cat Anton died suddenly  about 3 years ago - i handled it with a mix of not thinking about it, being intensely sad for as brief a period as i could, and probably by thinking about how sad my girlfriend was about it, and sort of sidestepping my own feelings in comparison. 

i remember when my last remaining grandparent died - and i was about 14 or something - i wasn’t sad for myself, i was only sad for her my dad being sad. for ages, i worried that i was not going to be sad enough about this - and i still sort of am. 

but i also passionately hate the idea of being sad and i know i’ll look to avoid it as much as possible, and try and get on with my life. 

i know my mum dying isn’t about me - when people write after death it’s about the person who died, obviously. that makes sense. but this post isn’t about my mum, who is a very cool person, much cooler than me - it’s about me. because i am self-obsessed and this is going to wreck my life for a while.

it’s weird, because i can see it on the horizon but it’s not happening yet. and i dont know whether that’s good or bad - i feel like it’s good, in a way. someone ages ago told me that the grieving period starts when you get the news. that seems very true to me - but also, i know that it’s going to ramp up, and so i’m like in the expectation of true grief right now. 

it’s sort of like she died, but also is still going to die, but also i can magically still talk to her. which is really nice, in a way, it’s like a second chance, because i know i didn’t reach out enough before she had cancer. and i’m aware enough of my own actions that i know this is what’s been going on in my head the past year - i should reach out more, because she has cancer, but i dont want to make it seem like i’m reaching out because she has cancer, even though she knows i know she has cancer....... and also, i’m busy writing this fic. /o\

the fact that she seemed to recover (even though my mum insisted on saying ‘i am not recovered, i’m going to die soon’ like several time as a day as a disclaimer) also totally messed with my head, because i knew logically - ok, it’s happening. but also, things seemed so normal when we speak. even when i called her today, and she hasn’t eaten for a week, it seemed normal. 

btw - i realised this week i had no idea how cancer killed people. my mum is a scientist and has looked up all kinds of things about what’s killing her; i’m clearly a simon snow and didn’t want to think about things i can’t help. if you’d asked me, i’d have said like... it poisons you or something, or blocks bloodflow to your brain. not what i think will actually do it which is.... starvation. or being too weak to survive being pumped full of the poison that is intended to kill the cancer. (that one i guess i could have predicted.) man - cancer sucks. i mean, we all knew it. 

(i failed to get into cambridge university at interview stage, many years ago. the man who interviewed me gave me some extremely memorable feedback, which is that i needed to dial back the ‘defensive irony’ - which i thnk in that context meant i put myself down and tried to make a joke of everything. i remember when i got the phonecall to say Anton, my cat, was dead, i literally did not know what to do with my voice - because my instinct was to try and make the vet feel better, and also to present myself as bright and capable, and yet this unexpected and devasting news had just come through. rainbow wrote something sort of similar because she’s a good writer, for shepard as he tells penny about his curse. i feel like that.) 

what else did i want to say? 

i thought i had more time. ‘hamilton’ will probably always be tied to this moment in my mind, because of how much i’ve spoken to my mum about it in the past few weeks (i sent her the remix - she liked it, she listened to it in hospital while trying to drink more than 100ml of fluids) but yeah - this is basically a line from hamilton here. whatever. don’t make me feel my own feelings, let me just quote things. i dont like my own feelings. (no, i dont want to go to therapy - they’d make me talk about my feelings all the time, i’m british for god’s sake.) 

i’m 35 - my mum is 68. i didn’t think she’d die this early or that i’d have to deal with this yet. but then i also don’t think bad things are ever going to happen to me - because mostly they haven’t, see above. i wear a mask and am double vaccinated because i’m not an asshole, but i dont really believe i’ll get covid because bad things don’t happen to me. i didn’t think my mum would die - maybe ever, but definitely not yet. she’s been retired a decade after teaching (science) and has enjoyed it. 

i thought i had time to not have kids yet - which is the other thing (like hamilton) that this moment is really tied up with for me. i feel like 35 is getting quite old, but also not that old to still not have kids, but intend to maybe have them. my feelings about kids were basically like - up until like 25, i thought, yes, definitely. i mean, before i had a realtiosnhip (22-ish), i just assumed i would probably have a het marriage and have kids etc, like people do, but after that we were still talking, yes, children at some point. 

didn’t prioritise it for a few reasons - none of my close friends had children until quite recently, so it just didn’t seem like an urgent thing in the way that it probably does for people with different friendship groups. waiting to be settled enough in a job to be able to take maternity leave without it feeling like a rip off for my employer. waiting for a good time in erin’s PhD writing cycle. and then pandemic. and then a few years ago, maybe as i turned 30, i thought - maybe we won’ have kids, because we still haven’t - and i vocalised that to erin. 

also, i know a lot of people are gay and have children, so it’s not like it’s a thing that is impossible at all, but it’s much much harder if you have to leave your home and your relationship in order to get a child. it has to be a very very conscious decisions. i have friend who are men who have good genes, but we’re not so close i want to ask them for their sperm/to be involved however remotely in making a child - and (i was surprised to discover) (what a lot of things i dont know anything about) you an’t really just buy sperm, it’s not truly legal except through a clinic. and it’s extremely expensive to get inseminated in a clinic, and the NHS don’t really do that, so you do have to pay it. i thought kids would be expensive after they were born, but not before. and i REALLY wanted a house, much much more than - i think even today - i’ve ever wanted a child. i REALLY wanted a house - and now we have a house, and it’s pretty good. but - that’s where the money went, until the pandemic - thanks pandemic - so now we do have some disposable cash at last, because i didn’t commute. 

but now erin is worried about climate change - and wheher it’s right to bring more children into the world, and other things. and.... i think i do want to be pregnant, it’s what i’m planning for - don’t leave this job (which admittedly i also really like, and pays me well - i dont thin i need to leave) because next stop maternity leave, but..... 

i don’t know whether i am thinking, time ot have kids because my best friend just had a baby (the baby’s name is horatio - for real, i actually love this name) (i also haven’t seen her or the baby except over skype, because anna - my friend - is, like my mother, also scared of pandemic) and my brain is like - ok, well, if anna is doing it, i guess the time is here 

AND - i know there’s a large part of me that was like, gotta be pregnant and ideally have the baby before my mum dies so she gets to see that she had a grandchild. my brother and i are both queer, btw, in case you were wondering - he’s considering whether he wants to transition right now (but is still happy with he/him pronouns) and - you may find this astonishing, but i genuinely don’t know whether he’d consider himself ace, or has been in relationships. he’s very private, he has OCD and is in therapy - but anyway, he’s probably not having kids anytime soon (i think!) and graham - my mum’s boyfriend/partner of 10+ years. -has grandchildren, but my extremely middleclass white (but definitely not conservative voters, always 100% not-tory) parents ended up with me and my brother.... and i don’t know, as i say, i don’t know whether my brain is saying ‘have kids before it’s too late’ - although i know by now that it will be too late. even if my mum recovers from this, this time, i don’t think i can produce a child before she dies - and she isn’t asking me too, she’s not like that, but i would have liked her to be there. i thought she would be. 

so - i’m thinking about that. also, about getting a dog. i really want a dog - although i don’t want to upset the three cats (one we’ve had for eight years or so, the other two we got after Anton died). it’s ALSO really hard and expensive to get a dog. you’d think with all these ‘a dog isn’t just for the pandemic, a dog is for life’ type adverts around, that it would be easy to adcidentally get a dog - i’ve looked! you ccan’t get a dog unless you have no cats and you’re super experienced and can take a dog with lots of trauma or medical problems, or you’re willing to pay thousands of pounds. like - even for a regular not even pedigree dog - at least a thousand. pedigree dog - several thousand. i dont want a puppy either - i want a dog. 

and - this is embarrassing to admit, but i’ve alrady told erin - i genuinely had a phase of being super annoyed when i’d read fics where someone just ‘got a dog’. it’s not that simple!!! it’s fiction, it doesn’t matter - chill out. the baby thing too - although weirdly not fics where magic meant it was possible to get a baby, weirdly it was smut. i had a brief week or so of crazy (and i don’t think i am that crazy) where i’d read about fictional semen and just be like - wtf, it’s so hard to get hold of that shit. (it’s not real, this isn’t real semen being wasted, calm down - and i dont even really know if i want kids, i might just think i do.) 

the other thing about the bad thing being soon but not yet (but also being all the time, but not if you dnt think about it) is that i’m thinking - should i prioritise writing my remix now, in case my mum dies and i’m too sad to do it, and then i didn’t do my remix? i was definitely thinking this while writing classroom politics (i hope my mum doesn’t die becaue i dont want to be too sad to miss the deadline) and in the run up to AWTWB .....

today i wrote a list of things for work that would need to be picked up if i have to unexpectedly stop working, either because i’m too sad, or because i have to do funeral stuff, or .... i guess legal stuff about settling the estate. (i guess this happens to a lot of people, too, but it’s also a bit of a mindfuck that my brother and i will inherit her house and a bunch of cash when she dies - i’m pretty well off, my brotehr does virtual reality theatre stuff so really isn’t - we’ve talked about how much easier both of our lives will be with a huge injection of cash, and how we dont know what to feel about that) (great news, dogs and kids are really expensive! time to find out whether i really wanted to spend my money on those.) told people i like at work that it’s coming, and that i dont want to talk about it. and mostly just... carrying on with life, really. until it happens. 

it’s so weird how easy it is to carry on most of the time.i know my mum’s partner is not doing nearly so well - he has to cope with an empty house and he’s retired. i’ve had periods - including right now - where i wake up every morning and check my phone to see whehter someone called me or texted me to tell me it’s over. but most of the day i’m actually really fine. i even had an ok day today. and i don’t know whether i want that to be the case, or whether i shouldn’t let myself do that. i dont know what i should prepare for in terms of where i’ll be - will i want lots of stuff to distract me (this is my guess) and work is very good for that, or i will want to clear time and space because i can’t operate and dont want people to offer me comfort. (FYI - this post isn’t written to make people say anything to me, i definitely dont want to talk about it, so please don’t feel you either have to comment or check in on me - i don’t really want you to. it’s enough to have written it, in my own time, in my own space.)

i think i wanted to write this post in a way because i thought i probably wouldnt want to write it after my mum died - because i probably wouldn’t want to say anything about it at all, for a few years. 

my mum keeps telling me about the show ‘jane the virgin’ - which she’s half way through. shhe asked me to give it a try, so i did (she often tells me about shows on radio 4, which i rarely listen to. i thouht i had more time.) i’ve watched an episode (because she has cancer, i should listen to her recommendations)(but i dont want her to know that’s why i did it) and i do quite like - it’s light and frothy and well cut together (although about kids and artificial insemination, of course). i guess in a worse case scenario where i’m too sad to work or write, i will probably watch a lot of this show - which is incredibly not sad - and feel sad about how my mum never finished it. 

BUT ALSO SHE MIGHT BE OK. for a while. 

i dont know how i feel, blargh. anyway. this was a long post. i think i wrote it mostly for me. feelings are weird. covid really sucks and so does cancer. 

going to order some chicken and watch inuyasha.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Heartbreaker

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 3057

Warnings: Language mostly, implied sexual relations and angst.

Beautiful moodboard made by the amazing @peterquillzsblog Thank you again 💙

This was written for the lovely @youbloodymadgenius 400 Followers Writing Challenge. I'm super late, but thank you so much for letting me participate 💙 I had fun writing this and I hope you like it.

I used prompts #12 and #28. They are highlighted in bold.

I tagged those who might be interested.

...

“I told you not to fall in love with me.”

The words hit her like a fucking truck. They tumbled so easily from his lips with that dreaded nonchalant tone she'd only ever heard him use on others whenever he spoke over the phone. It was never aimed at her.

He had his arms crossed over his naked chest with brows raised, sitting comfortably up against the large fancy black headboard of his equally large and fancy bed, the very bed he had her in only nights before. His long hair was messy, shooting out in all directions from being tugged at mercilessly. A pretty blonde had snaked her way from under his black satin sheets, her naked body in full view. She makes a show for him, pulling her denim jeans over her sad excuse of a behind slowly, obviously interested in hearing the rest of their exchange.

Ivar licks his lips, his blue eyes following the soft lines of that broads basic body before shifting them back to her. “You’d only get hurt in the end.” He finally says.

What a low blow.

She swallows the lump forming in her throat, knowing the tears would be forcing their way out of her glossy eyes soon. How fucking stupid was she? She stood there, hands balled into fists as her eyes flipped between him and the smirking blonde. Her lower lip trembled like a goddamn child, standing awkwardly in front of the pair. From the looks of it, this dalliance with the blonde had been going on for a while. The girl seemed far too comfortable.

Ivar was right. He did warn her not to fall in love with him. It was just supposed to be a fling, nothing more. They had met at a mutuals party, Ubbe’s friends cousin or some shit. They couldn’t remember the details now if you asked them, but they both knew the guy, and when they met, it was instant physical attraction. And that was when their “friends with benefits” relationship began. She had been a phenomenal plaything for him, and she seemed to know exactly what Ivar needed. She was pretty, had an amazing body, shiny hair, long fluttering lashes. She looked perfect on his arm and he liked her enough to keep her around, but he didn’t love her. How could he? He wasn’t meant for that shit. He was Ivar the heartbreaker, a hot young bachelor born into the old money of the Ragnarsson family. He could have any woman he wanted. And he did.

She was so fucking stupid, but Ivar was fucking stupid too. He’d given her a key to his flat, allowing her freedom to come and go as she pleased as if they were a fucking couple. And she was stupid enough to believe that was the relationship they were forming, that somehow they had silently crossed this bridge of uncertainty that went from nothing to something. They had been “together” for months, almost an entire year. Ivar wasn’t a bad person, he was just bad at relationships. He couldn’t settle with one girl, so he played with many. She wondered how many others he played with when she wasn’t around.

Not much regret could be detected in his eyes, his blue orbs shimmering with the words she could read so clearly: Get out. So that's exactly what she did. Turning swiftly on her booted heels, she walks back into his fancy kitchen, slamming his key with this cute pastel blue pom pom keychain she bought onto the marble island counter. Digging into one of the totes full of groceries that she intended to use to cook the fucker dinner, she pulls out a small tub of Häagen-Daz strawberry ice cream, shoving it in her bag. She'd need it later. With a shaky breath she looks around the modern sleek flat one last time before slamming the door behind her.

She could hear that bitch giggling as she left.

…

“Did you see the look on her face?” Freydis giggles, slipping on her low cut cropped top before pouncing onto the bed beside Ivar, “Poor thing. You really had her hung up.” Ivar did see the look on her face, and although he’d seen it many times before on countless other women, it hit him a little differently this time. Dammit.

She looked heartbroken, eyes wet like that day her cat had gotten sick and she begged Ivar to rush them over to the vet that was an hour away. He didn’t really care much for the cat, it had sharp claws and was always hissing at him, but he did it for her. Her cat was saved from whatever the fuck was wrong with him, and she was happy. She’d given him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

That night had been a great fuck.

Ivar releases a breath from his nostrils, ignoring Freydis babbling on and on about god knows what. The blonde was a fool if she thought she would be next to take her place. Fucking bimbo. Was only good for a measly fuck. And she was terrible at it. He pushes away the satin sheets, completely nude, before turning to peer at her from over his sculpted shoulder with a look of indifference.

“Get out.”

“Ivar?” She looks up at him through her lashes, her lips forming into a frown at his sudden disdain.

“I didn’t stutter,” He states calmly, but a stern tone laced his words that had her sitting up at attention,” I said get the fuck out.” Freydis rolls her eyes, pushing herself off the bed and grabbing her purse she meticulously hung in his closet.

“Douchebag,” She mutters, but she offers him a sickly sweet smile, pushing a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, “You know I’m always available. I’ll be waiting for your call.” She winks at him, blowing him a kiss before slinking out of his room. Once Ivar heard his front door slam close he sighs, shuffling over to his bathroom for a much needed bath.

For some reason, he felt dirty.

…

It had started raining as soon as she left Ivar’s flat. She had forgotten her umbrella at home and she was soaked to the bone from the heavy droplets by the time she stepped foot into her own flat.

It was cute and cozy, with fairy lights and tapestries that were the complete opposite of Ivar’s stupid modern sleek bachelor pad. Ivar preferred simplistic Scandinavian living, while she gravitated towards that boho atmospheric vibe with scented candles that she had in practically every room. He joked about it whenever he slept over, which wasn’t very often. It looked childish to him. The scented candles made him sneeze and the cat was a bitch, but he’d settle under her warm quilted covers just fine, gazing up at her ceiling that reflected a projection of a star lit sky. That was actually kinda cute. She was always a romantic, but that was the problem.

She kicks off her tall boots, tossing her keys atop the little ceramic dish by the door. Moving over to her tiny kitchen, she puts away the ice cream in the freezer and makes a b-line towards her bedroom. She hangs up her bag on the very corner of the door to her closet, shedding her jacket and the rest of her clothes on the floor without a care before heading to her bathroom. She immediately lights all her candles, setting up a relaxing bubble bath with a lavender scented bath bomb. Lastly, she grabs her phone, searching for the right playlist before sinking into the warmth of the bubbly water.

As soon as her eyes fall shut, her mind goes back to Ivar.

Fuck him. And the blonde.

She didn’t want to berate herself anymore than she already did while taking that miserable walk home, but she couldn’t help feel like her heart was burning a hole right through her chest. It beat faster the more she thought of him, and her eyes pricked with the sensation of tears, until finally, she let them fall. The fat drops roll down her cheeks as she cries into her hands to muffle her sobbing.

This would be the only night she’d shed tears for him, she promised herself. Tomorrow was a new day.

Benji, her fat calico cat, slinks his way into the bathroom, curling up in a corner to enjoy the warmth of the bath for himself. She brings her teary eyes to him, the calm state of the feline having her wish she could feel such peace. Sometimes she wished she were a cat herself, only having to worry about sleeping, eating, shitting, and doing it all over again day after day.

Sinking deeper into the water she forces herself to relax, listening to the soothing sounds of Moonlight Sonata, a dreary tune for a dreary day off. When her eyes fluttered with sleep, the classical playlist was interrupted by the obnoxious sound of her phone's vibration over the plastic toilet seat. With a scowl she reaches over to snatch her phone, biting her lip as Ivar’s name flashed on the bright screen. Without hesitation, she taps her finger to end the call, sending him straight to voicemail. She had nothing to say to him.

Fuck him.

After 30 seconds, her phone vibrated again. Ivar was fucking persistent.

Again, she ignored the call, and after the 4th call, she angrily slams her finger on the green button, bringing the phone to her ear.

“What do you want?” She spits, shivering now that the water had significantly dropped in temperature. She runs a hand down her gooseflesh covered leg as she awaits his answer, but so far he was silent, only a frustrated breath could be heard on his end, “I detect guilt.” Her words were dripping in pure venom, something he honestly found rather attractive. But now was not the time for that.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, so unlike him, and somehow, so fucking irritating.

“Peachy,” She replies sarcastically, sinking into the water once again. The bubbles had long disappeared and she was getting cold, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Was the weak scoff. There was an awkward silence after that, which was strange considering she felt she could talk to Ivar endlessly about anything really. That’s the sort of pair they were, or maybe it was her doing all the talking and soul baring while Ivar patiently listened and...kept his own secrets. She sighs, just about ready to hang up until she hears him mutter something.

“I can’t hear you.” She counters, annoyed.

“I didn’t want you to see this,” He clears his throat, “I didn’t want you to see us. Me and Freydis.”

“You did a great fucking job hiding it.”

“Is this really a good time for your sarcasm?”

“Fuck you, Ivar.”

“I’m being serious,” He hisses in frustration, “That was nothing for you to see. I had no idea you were off today.” He sounded irritated, as if it were somehow her fault he got caught. It shouldn’t have mattered if they weren’t anything to begin with. “I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you!” He ended his little childish rant with a sigh, the kind of sigh where he needed to run a hand down his face to keep his shit together.

“So then why the fuck did you call me?” She hissed back, and in her annoyance she splashed water from out the tub, the cold droplets sprinkling over Benji. It had the cat screeching for his life before running out of there.

“I don’t even fucking know myself.” She hears him take in another frustrated breath, grumbling something about the complications of women. Asshole. He was the complicated one.

The splashing of water was heard on his end. He must have been having a bath of his own. That was their thing, after a particularly rough day at work, or whenever the actions of their lovemaking called for a bath, they didn’t hesitate to slip in together and enjoy each other again. It was clear she valued those moments more than he did. It all meant nothing to him.

Her traitorous mind conjured up images of how his body must have looked, water droplets running down his glistening chest and chestnut colored hair plastered on his face. Fuck.

“I’m fucking stupid.” She groans, already feeling another wave of tears surging through her. She sniffles, bringing her knees to her naked chest as she stares at the flickering candles surrounding the tub.

“You’re crying,” Ivar says stupidly, his tone unreadable, “Please, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry,” He was speaking gently, as if that would be enough to soothe her, “I told you not to fall in love with me.” He repeats the phrase softly, almost sadly, like the corny lead of some fucking corny romantic comedy that did trash in the cinema.

“Yeah…” She says, fighting to hold back the sob she wanted so badly to release, “Yeah, I know.” And with that, she hung up, tossing her phone aside and sinking deeper into the now freezing water.

Maybe if she stayed in there long enough she’d feel numb.

…

She had stared at her ceiling, the star lit sky projection twinkling down at her, much like they always did when she was a little girl back in her hometown. They always did serve to calm her, making her feel safe and helped her sleep a lot better. They didn't help much this time around.

She stared all night, even after the stars disappeared with the sunrise, thinking about him. She was getting too old for this, crying like a fucking teenage girl.

She barely slept and was desperate for a cup of coffee the moment she rolled out of her cocoon-like bed. Dragging her feet over to the kitchen, she brews a pot of the caffeinated liquid before preparing Benji’s breakfast. The cat slithered between her legs, meowing uncontrollably as he awaited his food.

“Shut up, Benji.” She mutters to him tiredly, placing down his food bowl and giving him a quick pat. She leans against the counter, her eyes following the slow drip of the coffee into the glass pot, wondering how the fuck she’d gotten to this point. Her eyes hurt, swollen from all the crying she did last night, and everything felt hazy and slow.

After last night’s conversation with Ivar, she decided to block him, erasing whatever memories she had of him. Ivar was always a generous man with her, sometimes buying her little things that caught her eye, probably just things to appease her with she realized. She gathered all the items up in a cardboard box she had laying around, leaving it by the door to throw away once she left for work.

Finally, the coffee was done. She poured herself a much needed cup, adding a few drops of her favorite vanilla creamer. Taking a small sip of the hot beverage, she groans in delight as it coats her taste buds, ignoring the burning caused by her impatience.The fusion of bitter and sweet was helping her recharge for the day. She’d need at least 2 more cups if she was going to do these guided tours at the museum today.

There was a knock on her door as soon as she moved to get ready. In her confusion she pauses her morning playlist, turning to look toward her door as if something were about to burst through and devour her whole. It was 7:30 in the morning, an unusual hour to knock on anyone’s door. Her first thought was Ivar, but why would he even bother showing up to her door? He was never awake this early as he got to show up to his office whenever he wanted. Ruling him out, she finally makes her way to the door, peeking through the peephole. No one was there.

She unlocks the door, turning to look towards the left and right of the hall before looking down. She blinks, stunned.

Flowers. A huge bouquet of flowers. Her favorites actually, Gerbera Daisies, all in a soft powdery pink color with bright yellow centers. They were placed in a monstrosity of a vase of white porcelain, painted with stunning blue designs like fine china. Beside it was a small bag with a generic looking orange tabby cat on the front with its paw up. Those were Benji’s favorite treats.

Taking one last look around the hallway she bends down, carefully picking up the vase of flowers and the cat treats, all while pushing Benji back in before he tried to make a run for it. She tosses the treats aside, staring long and hard at the pretty flowers with a scowl. There was a white card clipped within the stems, wet from the vase water. Snatching it, she runs her finger over the parchment-like surface before opening it to see a familiar scrawl in the blackest ink. The water spreads the ink, staining the white card in black streaks like tears. She read the simple message:

I know these are your favorites. You deserve pretty flowers. I’m sorry you felt the need to fall in love.

-Ivar.

Her brows arch and a frown tugs at her lips. She felt her heart drop instantly as her brain finally processed the simple words he’d written. Reading it was enough for her to sense the emptiness of the message. She knew him well enough to know he slept just fine last night. Probably next to that other chick. How could he possibly think that flowers would make it all better?

She quickly rips the card into little pieces, tossing them into her trash can. She lifts the bouquet of daisies from their stems, removing them from the vase and throwing them harshly into the trash with a snarl. She squeezes her eyes shut, the tears already coating her lashes, rolling down her cheeks and onto those stupid flowers. She already broke her promise of no more tears and it wasn’t even 8 am. She bites her lips, glaring down at the daisies as if they were the root of the problem.

“Fuck you, Ivar.”

...

Part 2

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @leilabeaux​ @inforapound​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @shannygoatgruff​ @syrenak

[mlqcconfessions]

hi!!! i noticed you also do headcanons and I was wondering if you could do mc's cat cockblocking the boys?? i really love your writing, and tysm!!!

I’ve never owned a cat, but I’ve watched enough videos on YouTube

I GOT THIS

MLQC Headcanon - Please do something about that cat

Victor

He’s not much of an animal person

And you know that

But that doesn’t mean you’ll throw away your cat after moving in with him (the one you’ve raised for nearly 12 years)

So you’re determined to make him accept little Whiskers

One of the biggest peeves he has is the fur

He doesn’t like having the hairs stick to his clothes (AND in the food)

He just doesn’t find cats that adorable like you do?

He doesn’t complain when you take him to buy stuff (he actually enjoys watching your face light up while picking things out)

But he regrets it because you were taking too long looking at everything in the store

So he now makes you shop online (so he doesn’t have to actually be there)

“Victor...! We HAVE to get this banana bed!!”

He doesn’t see the necessity but buys them for you anyways

There’s a lot of things he wants to say about that cat, but he stops himself

But he DOES want to say something about your cat continuously cockblocking him?

Every time he goes to kiss you, Whiskers is always there

She keeps meowing to get your attention (to which she always succeeds)

Damn cat.

He doesn’t like how you give her more affection than to him

She’s such an angel when you’re around

But is the devil’s incarnate when you’re not

He swears your cat gives him a look sometimes

“Victor, you’re being ridiculous” (if only you knew)

Damn cat.

You’re usually the one to take her to the vet

But you were busy with wrapping up a shoot one day (so HE had to take her)

Boy, did he hate every minute of it

Meowing like no tomorrow (he thought his ears would start coughing hairballs)

The appointment wasn’t all that splendid either

He thought about accidentally leaving the cat at the vet’s 

But he was able to refrain from doing so

When he gets back, you’re waiting for him

He suddenly picks you up bridal style (doesn’t forget to glance at Whiskers)

He thinks he wins this round (but she’s the one in your arms when he wakes up the next morning)

Damn cat.

Kiro

He loves animals

He REALLY loves animals

But sometimes they don’t love him back (poor sunshine boy)

And your cat was one of them

He literally tries everything to make Whiskers like him

But it doesn’t work

“My evol......” (absolute charm doesn’t work on animals, apparently)

He becomes so sulky afterwards

Savin has to stop by the house to drag him to his next schedule

He gets up to leave, but then sees Whiskers come up to Savin’s leg

She starts purring so loud? (like she wants Kiro to hear?)

“Wha— No! That’s not fair!”

He sits back down, exclaiming that he won’t budge until he MAKES Whiskers like him

Savin is crying, once again

Kiro uses his knowledge as Key to create the most complex system you’ve ever seen in your life

“Ki..Kiro? What’s all this?” (you’re almost afraid to ask)

“It’s an automated treats dispenser. Whenever she passes by any of my things, this bad boy (he taps on a device) will drop her favorite treat. You can think of it as training her to associate me with food!”

“And....this is supposed to make her like you?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment (he’s desperate, isn’t he?)

“Just watch, MC! Don’t come crying when she no longer follows you everywhere”

You sigh (I’ll have to apologize to Savin again)

So the treat dispenser idea worked in the beginning

Or at least, it seemed like it did

Whiskers figured out the trick pretty quickly (she was old, but not stupid)

She could care less about becoming familiar with Kiro’s scent, and was only interested in the snacks

He’s devastated now (he’s curled in the corner of the sofa)

Seriously, what made you marry this man?

Just then, Whiskers comes up to Kiro and sits on his lap (he’s squealing)

“MC! Look! I told you this would work!”

Lucien

He doesn’t particularly hate animals

But can’t imagine raising one himself

He was supportive when you said you wanted to adopt a stray cat (the one that’s been wandering around the orphanage)

He helps you buy the supplies to prepare the house

He even offers to take her for her shots (while you were working)

He was looking forward to expecting the cat to fall in love with him

As did the hundreds of animals in the past

He never thought this stray cat would become so attached to you

And attached as in ATTACHED

She literally gave him no room to come between the two of you

He pretends it doesn’t make him faze one bit

But he’s actually plotting using that sexy brain of his

He’s laughing at his own childishness

But when it involves your love, it’s a little different (he’s willing to play this game)

She’s a formidable opponent

As a pet, she has the upper hand in a lot of situations

For example...

She’s allowed to sit on your lap and stay there for who knows how long

She’s able to follow you into the bathroom (something Lucien wishes)

Theoretically speaking, she’s much more huggable than he was

Whiskers was smol and fluffy, but Lucien?

Alpha male was just BIG (his hair is fluffy, though)

He doesn’t like how he’s losing on so many levels

But he DOES have advantages as a husbando human 

He can cook you breakfast

He can pick you up in his arms and swing you around

Even though he can’t sit on your lap (he’ll crush you if he does), he sure can rest his head on it

He can actually communicate with you? (this is the BIG ONE)

He understands your body language, your speech, and any changes in between

And he KNOWS that he is the only one in your life who will be able to get this intimate with you

Inside and outside

Gavin

He’s more of a dog person, himself

You already knew about Flyer (*see Rehearsal Date)

And you knew Gavin wasn’t actively looking for a pet

But he is more than willing to take in a stray cat you brought home

You ask him to name the cat, to which he appropriately names Whiskers

It’s not original, but I suppose it’s still cute

What did you expect 

This is a man who names his motorcycle Sparky

Slowly but surely, he begins to love this cat as if she was his own

And Whiskers seems to love him the same, as well

You often find the two of them napping together, curled up in the sofa

When he comes back after a long mission, she’s always there by the door (she knows when he’s coming before you do?)

Despite all this

He loses it whenever she gets in the way of his affectionate moments with you

Other than that, the two have a great relationship

He has small scratches on his legs and arms 

He gets new ones whenever he tries to kiss you

You end up cutting her nails more frequently than before (but she always finds a way to make them sharp again)

Minor makes fun of him when he tries to explain his dilemma

“Bro! You’re fighting with a CAT” (Gavin had to punch lightly nudge Minor’s stomach)

He knows it’s dumb, but he can’t help himself

He has his reasons for being so jealous over Whiskers

It’s because you’ve become so much more lovey-dovey after taking in the cat

Well, he’s not complaining (you were more adorable now)

But it would be nice if all that love was directed towards him

Right now, it was 7:3 (Whiskers : Gavin)

In order to fight back, HE becomes the affectionate one now

Kisses become a lot more........extravagant

It’s not like he’s not embarrassed about it

If anything, he wants to hide in a hole every time he slips his tongue in your mouth

“Gavin, if it’s gonna make you blush that hard then you don’t have to do it, you know?”

I’ve always wanted a cat, and this just solidifies my point