#warm and fuzzy vet

[thegayneapigs]

mom got io a friend (and lots of treats to try) from this weekend's World of Pets Expo!

[miss-petrolea]

this gave me such lovely warm fuzzies last year, so I've scheduled it for today as well ❤️

Santa's Reindeer will be well taken care of tonight 😉🦌🎅🏼🎄

[noxturnals-void]

Slashers with an s/o that’s always cold

Characters include:

Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Jesse Cromeans, Asa Emory

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✨Chronic cold hands and feet gang unite✨

Tw: suggestions of nsfw (nothing described explicitly), characters being hard on themselves

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Jason Voorhees:

Pre-zombie

He’s a big, warm guy.

You can cuddle against him and feel like you're hugging a heater.

Will give you bear hugs to heat you up at any time.

It can get pretty cold during the winter, so his lap is where you’ll be. He doesn’t mind.

He will hold your hands in his to warm them up whenever he notices your hands are too cold.

When you are out on walks together in the woods or around the campgrounds, you hold hands in his jacket pocket.

When you cuddle on the couch or in bed, he’ll make sure your hands and feet are always warm.

Post-zombie

Poor guy :(

He can’t comfort you how he used to now that he’s room temperature.

He’ll still try his absolute best to keep you warm with heated blankets and fuzzy socks.

Will give your hands and feet massages to stimulate blood flow.

He feels bad not being able to keep you warm as well during the winter, so he builds extra big fires just for you.

Will still give you bear hugs, even if they don’t warm you up.

Michael Myers:

He never lets you go anywhere alone, but that doesn’t mean he’s all over you.

When the urge for physical touch does happen, it’s rarely PG-13.

Outside of that, it’s uncommon for him to do things such as cuddle or hug.

When he is unusually tame, you will find him holding you.

He wants to be near you. Sometimes that means you are stuck to his chest, wrapped up in his arms, or pinned onto the couch or bed under his weight.

He may or may not let you put your hands under his mask to heat them up against his neck or face.

Fair warning: only try if you’re prepared to lose a hand.

If you don’t lose a hand, something’s wrong. Might be time for his yearly vet appointment.

Thomas Hewitt aka Leatherface:

This guy can’t keep his hands off of you.

He knows your hands and feet are always cold, even during the hot Texas summer.

He’s more than willing to share his body heat.

He will constantly worry about your hands and feet being so cold. Is your heart okay? He’s always going to be worried about your health.

If you want to work outside with him, he’ll let you, but don’t think you’re doing any heavy lifting when you’ve got him around.

He won’t deny that it’s nice to have your hands against the back of his neck, under his hair, or on his forehead, like a personal ice pack.

When you sleep, he will be the big spoon to ensure you are safe and warm the entire night.

Jesse Cromeans aka Chromeskull:

Pre-superest of super glues

Oh, this cocky bastard.

You want him to warm up your hands? Don’t worry, he will put your hands to good use, and they’ll be warm in no time ;)

Relishes in you cuddling up to him for warmth.

The way you shiver, complaining about your feet being cold as you shove them between his legs has him laughing.

Will definitely spoil you rotten with gifts.

You have a collection of luxury-brand thermal socks and expensive heating packs at your disposal for when he’s not around.

He will suggest exercise. Especially at-home yoga. It's good for your circulation. It’s good for his circulation to see you in some of those poses ;)

Post-superest of super glues

He’s less cocky now that he’s lost (what he believes) is one of his best attributes. His face.

He will be distant for a while; resisting giving into your physical affection despite your hands and feet being ice cubes. He can’t be your heater until he comes to terms with his own reality first.

He still buys you gifts, more so now that he’s constantly worried you will leave him if he doesn’t.

Instead of acting all smug and arrogant about you wanting him, he will try to enjoy the fact you still want to be near him.

His affirmations that you still care about him come from you still sticking your ice-cold hands up his sleeves to make him jump, or your frozen feet sliding between his legs seeking warmth when you sleep together at night.

He would never admit it, but your cold hands on his face make him feel normal again.

Asa Emory aka The Collector:

Oh, he’s intrigued.

You have chronically cold hands and feet?

Do you have anemia? Poor circulation? Thyroid issues? Autoimmune disorder? Best believe he will force you to get checked for every possibility; if you haven’t already done so.

If nothing comes up, he will suggest exercise.

You are welcome to join him on his morning runs or occasional bouts to the gym.

Of course, he’s more than willing to warm you up in alternative ways ;)

He’s a busy man, balancing his work and extracurricular activities, so he won’t always be around for you to warm up against.

When that's the case, you have plenty of stuff he’s provided for you.

When he is around and notices your abnormally cold hands or feet, he will address it silently, handing you fuzzy socks or a heating pad.

He’s got to make sure his favorite pet stays in good health after all ;)

[warcats-cat]

Warm Fuzzies

Summary: Hermes drops by for a visit, and is not at all prepared for what he finds temporarily sharing your apartment. Cuteness ensues!

A/N: This is a gift for @deltathelittleartist (MagicalEevee on Ao3!) for their AMAZING BEAUTIFUL artwork of Hermes in some outfits from First Valentine. (Seriously, go check it out!!!)

UPDATE DELTA MADE ART FOR *THIS* FIC AS WELL OF HERMES MEETING THE KITTIES AND ITS **ADORABLE** GO LOOK AT IT!!!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

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“Uh… what was that…noise?” Hermes' voice floated from your window/door as he carefully shut it.

You beamed, looking anywhere but his eyes. “What noise?” You asked.

There was a quiet squeak from your bedroom.

Hermes took off his sunglasses, “That… noise??”

Another squeak.  Hermes' eyes narrowed, and he turned to the bedroom. Before you could react and move to block his path, he wooshed right to the doorway in a blink and opened the door. You barely had the time to cry, “Careful!!”

The squeaks became slightly louder, now a chorus instead of only one particularly loud voice. A tiny kitten-shaped-blob waddled out of the doorway, and tentatively batted at the hem of Hermes' cloak.

The god of mischief stared down at the kitten blankly.

“So… uh… I can explain…” you stammered. Two more kitten-blobs waddled over to see what their sibling was doing; one climbing onto Hermes' foot and taking a nibble of his sandal strap.

“There are infants in your home…” The god stated, eloquently.

Finally, a cream and brown tortoiseshell cat wandered out, two more babies in tow, and she sat right at Hermes' feet to stare up at him. You moved forward, ready to grab any kittens that decided to continue exploring the room.

“Well, uh, you see - I heard them squeaking last night as I was coming home. They were under my car, ya’know, because it's warm, and I couldn't just leave them in the mall parking lot! So, I ran in really quick and grabbed a box from the back that hadn't been broken down yet and a blanket from my trunk - you should always have a blanket in your car in case you break down - and the mama cat didn't even need to be persuaded! She hopped right in and I piled up her babies and I had to look for the nearest vet because obviously I've never needed one before!” Your rambling was cut off by Hermes pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Breathe, darling,” he giggled. He bent down and gave the mother cat a soft scratch between her ears, eliciting a low purr. All five kittens now huddled at his feet, playing with each other and the god’s cloak.

You smiled, “yeah. Anyway, the vet said they were all healthy. They had probably been dumped that morning, and of course the mother wasn't chipped. But the shelter in the area was full, and I didn't want them to just be left outside, so I volunteered to foster them for a week or so until they can get a better placement.”

You sat down on the floor and the kittens waddled over to you, mewing and squeaking some more. The mother, content that her babies were with a competent guardian, licked your hand and wandered back into your bedroom to retrieve her food.

“I made a little corral for them but the mom kept escaping and taking her babies into my bedroom, so I just kinda let them waddle around in there. She must have escaped again…” you said, carefully picking up a kitten.

Hermes smiled softly, “ah, a fellow artist.” He carefully moved the kittens off of his feet and walked back into the living room area, beginning to fiddle with something.

By the time you had all five kittens and mother back in their makeshift pen, Hermes was walking in behind you and taking them back out.

“Hey! They're supposed to be close together! I don't want them to make a huge mess of my apartment…” you said, following him.

There, in front of the tv, was a proper little corral, complete with a new blanket he had summoned from somewhere. It was built with a sturdy-looking baby gate, and there were plush pillows and even a heating pad and scratching board in the middle.

You stared.

“Where did you get a baby gate in two minutes?”

“One minute, fifteen seconds.” He mumbled under his breath, and then shrugged. “I had one in my bag.” He placed the last kitten in the new corral, and you decided not to ask further…

“What are you going to do about work?” Hermes asked. You frowned, trailing a hand around the edge of the pen and watching a kitten waddle after it.

“I asked for the week off. I can use some PTO hours I've been saving. My manager wasn't thrilled but didn't complain since I got the days covered.”

You felt Hermes lean against you, warm and solid, and he put his head on your shoulder.

“Did you pick a name for any of them?” He asked softly. You blushed, looking away.

“Ah, well. I don't want to get too attached, and the kittens are still too little to do much. I didn't know what to call the mother cat, and the vet suggested a name but at the time I was only half paying attention.”

“What did they suggest?” He asked, leaning more into your space with his stupid mischievous grin. You blushed harder.

“W-well, they thought a cute name would be Molly…”

At the sound of her ‘name’, the mother cat chirped and looked up.

Hermes snorted, breaking into a giggle. “Wait, that's hilarious!”

You batted at him teasingly, smiling yourself. “It's a total coincidence!! I didn't even realize it until I got home and said it out loud!” you insisted.

“Oh, suuuure! I'll be sure to keep that in mind!” he laughed. “I can't wait to tell Circe some of her moly escaped!”

The kittens began to waddle over to investigate the commotion while Molly-the-cat kneaded the pillows, making herself comfortable in the new bedding.

“Whatever!” You said, still smiling, “Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?” Hermes stuck out his tongue at you.

“What, I can't come visit my partner?”

In a quick bid of mischief, you pinched his nose, making him squeak. “Sure, you can visit whenever you want, but I didn't think you were able to stay tonight.” You said.

“Well, now I've found out my partner has infants to take care of! So, I'm going to be a good boyfriend and help them!” He retorted.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, and leaning over to kiss him. “Well, thank you, I guess.” You teased.

The rest of the evening was easy; you and Hermes sat on the couch and could both watch TV and watch the kittens at the same time. They were so tiny and squirmy; you remembered seeing some post a long time ago about the name bumper-car kittens for the stage when the babies were round and unsteady on their feet, and walked with their tiny tails straight up to help them balance. Their mother, meanwhile, seemed happy simply to watch them; occasionally she would nab one and give it a thorough washing, but otherwise she lay there enjoying the warm pillows and heating pad.

-----

You must have dozed off about midnight, leaning against Hermes, because suddenly your alarm was going off and you found yourself in bed, still in the tee shirt and sweatpants from the day previous.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the sight just outside your door.

“Help…” Hermes, laying flat on the floor. One kitten curled up on his chest, close to his shoulder. Two kittens cuddled on his stomach. One kitten trying valiantly to fight the wing on the left side of his head. And Molly with her last kitten tucked close to his side, almost near his armpit.

You did not help, instead giggling and taking many photos of the god who had apparently been bested by a family of felines. The kitten playing with his wing toppled over when it tried to jump and swipe it at the same time, and you carefully picked it up, adding it to the cuddle pile with the other two on his stomach.

He gave you a big pout, widening his eyes and silently begging for rescue. “You're just gonna leave me here?” He asked with a whine.

“Are you kidding? Those things are vicious! I'm not coming within ten feet!” You giggled, stepping carefully over him and heading to the kitchen.

“They ambushed meee!” Hermes whined again, and you laughed.

“Oh, yes, I'm sure! They sure look formidable! What did they do, cry until you laid down?”

You heard a mumble from the living room as you put some pop tarts in the toaster.

“What was that?” You called.

“One climbed up my pant leg when I tried to feed Molly…” he said, slightly louder.

“Uh-huh. And how did that lead to your current situation?” You asked. You could imagine him blushing now, and pulling his wings to cover his eyes like he did when he was feeling bashful. The pop tarts popped out of the toaster, and you carefully set them on a plate. The pair of you could share.

Perhaps…

Stepping carefully back into your living room, you set the pop tarts where the kittens couldn't easily get to them (and hopefully Molly would leave them alone…) and sat next to Hermes' head. None of the kittens even bothered to look at you, too happy to be napping on their oversized heater. Hermes made another face.

“No, really, how did this happen?” You asked again, giggling. You reached and carefully broke off a small chunk of pop tart, waving it in the god's face.

He frowned, trying to lift his head enough to reach the treat before letting it flop back down with a huff.

“Mean to me,” he mumbled; “I told you, the little all white one started climbing my leg.”

“Uh-huh,” you smiled wider, “And?”

“I didn't want her to fall, obviously, so I picked her up and set her on my shoulder for a minute while I went to get cat food, and then she put her little paws in my feathers and it startled me. And then Molly chirped at me like ‘if you hurt my baby’ and hopped out of the gate. And then all of the kittens started crying, and Molly stared at me like ‘see what you did?’ even though it totally wasn't my fault!

So, I was like fine, you little furball and I brought all the babies out and sat down with them on my lap, but then they started climbing to attack my feathers!!” he rambled through his totally accurate and believable story. You snorted, feeding him the chunk of pop tart.

“Uh-huh. Sure, love. Whatever you say.” You giggled while he stuck his tongue out at you.

The pair of you sat like that for almost an hour - him on the floor with a cuddle pile of kittens on his stomach, you feeding him chunks of pop tart in between bites of your own. It was nice. Quiet.

At some point, you also laid on the floor, taking a few kittens to lay on your chest. They squeaked in protest only a moment before settling right back to sleep, and Molly purred loudly between you and Hermes. There was a soft haze to the day; a sleepy day off. You had soft blankets and pillows, soft sleepy kittens, and a soft silly boyfriend to snuggle up to. You and Hermes chatted quietly about his work this week, where all he had to go and why. You rambled about customers at work and the book you had been reading in your downtime.

About noon, the kittens decided their nap was complete, and they waddled around Hermes' torso, looking for a way to get back down from such a great height. The god tried very valiantly not to squirm, but it was clear the tiny paws wandering his abdomen were hitting every ticklish spot he had. The wings on his head flapped once or twice, and suddenly Molly was there, sitting just next to him and sniffing in his hair.

You quickly moved to grab the kittens and put them back in their pen, much to their displeasure if the squeaking and mewing was an indicator; and you watched, as if in slow motion, as Molly carefully lifted a single paw and brought it right back down on Hermes' forehead with a thwap. The god looked stunned, staring at the cat in confusion. You giggled to yourself, wishing you had that on video.

Molly raised a paw to do it again, Hermes still making no move to stop her, and you swooped in and gently lifted the cat away. Thankfully, she wasn't upset, apparently, but she did make her own sound of confusion at where the floor had suddenly gone. You gently cradled her in your arms, realizing now just how warm and solid she was. After a few moments of confusion, she settled, rubbing her face against the underside of your chin and purring loudly. You hummed, cuddling the cat, waiting for Hermes to stand up.

He didn't stand up.

You turned around, and found your boyfriend now staring at you. His typically silver eyes had the faintest tinge of green. You giggled.

“Is someone envious?” You teased, nudging him with your foot.

He looked away, “nooo…”  You could almost hear him blushing. You laughed a little harder, carefully settling Molly into the pen and watching as she gathered her kittens for lunch.

“Oh, no? Not even a little bit?” You pressed, crouching down next to him and poking his side.

Without answering, and faster than a blink, you found yourself laying on top of Hermes (while still on the floor!) with his arms around you.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” he said, though it was muffled from his face being tucked into your shoulder.

“Oh suuuure,” you teased, carefully threading your hands into his hair. You gently moved his head, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Are we feeling a little un-cuddled then?”

He squirmed, and rolled so you were both side-by-side now. “Maaaaaaybe” he drawled. You smiled.

“Well, then, I’ll have to fix that.” He rubbed his nose against yours, now smiling.

“Mm’kay,” he hummed. You wiggled free of his arms and the pair of you moved to the much more comfortable couch; Hermes waved his hand and the tv blinked to life.

The next morning, you would receive a call from the vet office, saying they had found a foster for your little fuzzy family. You were sad to see them go, but happy to know they would all be well taken care of.

And a month or so from now, if a familiar cream and brown cat and small horde of kittens showed up in a selfie of Hermes while he visited his friend Circe, it would just have to bring a smile to your face.

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!! And don't forget to reblog Delta's art too and give them some love!!!)

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Floyd + love languages + forced proximity

This is why you hate roommates, it’s always something with them. Poor Thumper, the love of your life’s been absconded with, and it’s all thanks to that beer-ponging-fridge-vacumming knucklehead that Thumpy’s late to the vet. In fact, you hope he doesn’t graduate. He doesn’t deserve a degree! And,

creaaakkkkkkkkkkkk

“Shrimpyyyy,, you tweetin’ about me again?”

It’s always something with your roommates.

Floyd Leech’s the last in a longgggggg line of roommates your college’s set up for you, and at this point it’d just be easier to take the loss and get a rental. All of your housemates have been just terrible- That Ace who stole the communal router and tried to sell it back to you, or Kalim who (despite being one of the nicest guys you know) is your landlord. Whenever he wracked up a noise complaint, you were the one to pay it, “on principle” he said. None of them are as bad as Floyd!

You’ve been flashed SO many times because the idiot can’t use doors, you’re basically forced to tail him with a wet cloth whenever he loiters, and the clinging! You have never met someone who can just stick to people like that!

Your life flashes before your eyes when Floyd hangs lazily in his bedroom doorway, instead of lurking in the shadows of his room,, It’s like a blindbox reveal- He’s shirtless and wearing your Hawaiian basketball shorts. The way he gravitates towards you when he’s sleepy is almost.. Sweet? It’s very distracting to your mission. Stupid washboard abs.

“I asked if you’re puttin’ me on your tweeter.”

“And I’m telling you no!”

“So you’re lyin?”

“Yes. NO. WAIT!”

.

And that’s how you ended up here, in his bed, getting spooned by your evil roommate. It was only a routine checkup for Thumper anyways, but it would’ve been so cute if you snagged a valentines headband :( Atleast Thumpy looks happy. You abided Floyd when he begged for a “bunny base” in his room for “enrichment”, and it’s been a massive help.

Floyd’s watching magicam above your head, and you’re slowly resigning ever standing up again. His legs are SO strong! Anytime you struggle they just yank you closer to his body, (or shake you like a chewtoy) and Floyd is unbothered to the max.

“Why’re you so clingy today?”

“Jus’ work. Jade wants me to come in on our holiday! Can you believe it?”

Instead of asking about the implications of that, like a normal person, you rub shapes into calf. Maybe if you’ve placated him enough, you can still get that headband! The only difficult bit of leaning into Floyd’s antics, is there’s no way to tell who’s enjoying it more. It’s a terrifying thought that maybe, just a little bit, you actually like the brute. But that might just be him worming his way into your brain- it’s pretty hard to tell where Floyd starts and you begin right now.

The worst part of Floyd is that he’s just a little bit good for you. He can be kind! And motivating, and so pretty that it’s only human nature to be drawn in by him. That childish, needy voice in your head hopes he feels the same about you.

When he brings you closer (with all his limbs this time, phone long forgotten), and nuzzles against your neck with the tip of his nose, there’s nothing you want more than for him to kiss it instead. It’s loving, and spontaneous, and so Floyd- That it makes your head fuzzy with alllllllll the good thoughts. He’s warm. In that sudden, horror flick esque eurika! moment you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, right now. There’s always something with your roommates.

“Yup, can’t. Jade’s just jealous he’s alone on valentines.”

“Foshow. OOOO! I forgot about the earrings I made ya’!”

[vxnillabxn]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ purrrrre fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚there's something about tuxedo cats and zayne... i have a tuxedo cat and she reminds me so much of him ♡♡♡

it was a snowy afternoon. you insisted on going to the arcade, because your plushie army needed new recruits.

zayne couldn't say no, especially not when he knows he'll probably get the best arm massage as you excitedly wait for him to win some plushies.

a few hours later, and three different stuffed animals tightly secured in your arms, you both walk through the snowy streets.

that's when he hears them.

the softest, tiniest mewls.

zayne turns towards a dark alley, and his gaze suddenly travels down the trash bags to a small, open cardboard box.

you stop as you notice his averted gaze. however, you don't question him. if something was able to capture his attention, it must be important.

he approaches the box, and his gaze softens.

three little tuxedo kittens, all curled up and nuzzling each other, protecting their tiny bodies from the merciless cold.

you feel like crying once you approach.

“zayne, can we—”

“yes.”

there's no doubt in his voice as he picks up the box carefully.

the tiny kittens are too weak to attack, but they're spicy alright.

they hiss as they see him, but he doesn't mind. he's used to tiny animals being scared of him.

a brief visit to the vet and a shopping spree later, you two return home.

he bought blankets, food, toys… almost as if silently stating that the kittens must stay.

you don't have to argue; it's not like you don't want to have three little kittens around.

the kittens eat, explore, and soon enough, start climbing on your legs. soft little purrs here, soft little mewls there.

it's heartwarming.

but zayne? poor zayne keeps getting hisses, and the kittens get fuzzy and ready to attack with their tiny paws!

“they'll like you eventually, love.”

you say, trying to cheer him up.

but two weeks go by, and there's no significant progress.

not until today.

the kittens are curled up against your warm skin, sleeping peacefully. you hate to break the cat spell, but you must get up to take a shower.

“zayne, take care of our babies.”

he nods curtly, taking his job seriously.

the kittens stretch and yawn, awake from their deep slumber as their favorite human leaves. zayne pulls your blanket and covers himself with it, his cold skin needing some comfort.

and that's the trick, though he did it unconsciously.

the kittens, attracted by your smell, start climbing up his lap. he freezes.

the first kitten nuzzles into his thighs. the second one is a bit bolder, and climbs until he reaches his shoulder, like a parrot. finally, the third one cuddles against his chest.

all purring, all content.

zayne doesn't even breathe. he is stunned, but thankfully so.

when you come back, you almost squeal in joy, but you bite your inner cheek, smiling brightly as you look at the heartwarming scene.

zayne looks up at you, and you notice a faint yet sweet upward curve on his lips. he's thrilled.

and days after, the kittens now follow him everywhere, intrigued by his cool skin but warm demeanor, almost forgetting you were once their favorite, too.

[bullet-prooflove]

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - The Vet: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @Hangmanscoming @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal

Prequel to upcoming September piece Broken - Travis Wheatley

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

 If You Want Me, You Can Have Me - They say that Rip Wheeler doesn't have a heart.

Stay Tonight - Rip asks to stay the night.

Use Your Words (NSFW) - Rip teases you.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

Rip’s at the Foreman’s House when he hears the gunshots echo over the pasture in the darkness. He’s just uncorked that bottle of that red you like from the winery in town because it’s been over a year since you stole this old cowboy’s heart and he wants to do something special to mark the occasion.

“I’m on my way.” You had promised him only a few minutes earlier when you’d called him. “I just need to check in Artemis.”

Gina’s horse had injured it’s leg during a barrel racing exercise a week ago and you’d been treating her since. Her cottage is less than a mile down the lane from Rip’s residence so he knows it won’t take long for you to arrive.

The instant he hears the two gunshots, something twists in his chest because they’re close, too fucking close. Both his home and Gina’s are on the Dutton’s land so he knows no one would dare go hunting in these fields. He tucks his own gun into the waistband of his jeans before he snatches up the keys to the truck and hurtles out the door.

Gina’s driveway is unusually busy when he pulls up outside her residence. There’s a black SUV he doesn’t recognise parked alongside the stables and your pickup blocks his path, the engine still running, the driver’s door thrown open.

Already he can hear the sounds of scuffle coming from the stable, shadows flicker against the warm illumination as a man curses and wood creaks.

“Touch that fucking horse and I will fucking kill you.” He hears you spit as he swings into the stables, his own gun drawn.

The scene before him is far from the one he expected.

Teal Beck is sagged against the door of Artemis’s stall, cradling his right arm close to his chest as blood jets from his badly broken nose. Dislocated shoulder, Rip assumes as Artemis paces her stall, tossing her head and grinding her teeth.

You’re standing with a Glock clasped in both your hands, finger on the trigger, weapon trained on Beck. There isn’t a single waver in you, your feet are spread apart, shoulders aligned just like they taught you when you signed up for a career in the Army as a miliary veterinarian. You’d done three tours before you resigned your commission and returned to Montana to take over your daddy’s practice.

“He was coming in here to kill the horse.” You tell Rip with a tone that could freeze the rivers of hell.

Of course, you’d go this crazy over a fucking horse. You leave and breathe for the animals under your care, every charge takes a tiny piece of your heart and you’d protect them with your life.

“You need to check on Gina.” You tell him, inclining your head slightly as you keep your eyes Teal. “Where there’s one Beck brother…”

There’s usually another.

Malcolm Beck’s been making his displeasure about his ex-wife known ever since that rodeo journalist had published the article about her come back. They’d all thought she was down and out after being kicked to the curb by him but now she’s back on the circuit, winning for the Yellowstone. She’s been spotted in the company of the rodeo king himself, Travis Wheatley.

It must have pushed every single one of that SOB’s buttons to see she was succeeding without him.

“Go.” You say again, this time more urgently. “I can take care of Teal, but Gina needs help.”

Rip’s already in motion, rushing from the stable as you keep the gun fixed on younger Beck brother.

“You better fucking hope he hasn’t laid a hand on her.” You say to Teal, your finger tightening on the trigger. “Otherwise you won’t live to see another sunrise.”

Teal smiles at you through bloody teeth.

“If that girl ain’t dead yet, she’s gonna wish she was by the time my brother’s finished with her.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thegayneapigs]

*someone* bit the doctor last night (and it wasn't mom!!) 🫣

Leo took another trip to the vet after some concerns he was having pain in his hind legs. poor lil chicken has some wicked osteoarthritis in his knees, so we'll be managing his pain as best we can.

he was rewarded with lots of veggies and treats 🥕🌿 (....even though he chomped down on the vet preeeeeetty hard)

he was in very good spirits for breakfast this morning. 💖

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

────────────────────────

The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[canadianfangirl-95]

Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire 

Paramedic Frankie x f!reader 

Summary: After a head spinning car crash, you’re left with unresolved feelings for a handsome paramedic. After finally running into him again, will you and he able to cross the finish line and navigate the ever-changing dating world with your lack of trust in the premise of long-lasting relationships? Or will he be waving a red flag in the end? 

Series Warnings and Information: 18 + minors DNI, reader is in 30s, Frankie in 40s, post events of Triple Frontier, car accident, minor injuries, blended families, divorce, legal/medical mumbo-jumbo which I have done no research on, brief talk about past drug use from reader & Frankie, talks about Toms death, discussion of anxiety medication & anxiety, lying, swearing, reader has hair long enough to put in clip, drinking, fluff, smut, fingering, protected piv, oral f & m receiving 

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 Word Count: 4300+ 

Chapter 1 - 

Light leaking through the window of your bungalow in small town Florida stirs you long before your alarm does. Turning over in your bed, adorned with a fluffy white comforter and light pink sheets, you squint and eye the disheveled sea foam green curtains now failing at their job of allowing you to sleep in on a Saturday. Groaning, you roll over and tuck your head below the covers, hoping the warmth and serenity of sleep will embrace you once again.  

Your desire for more rest is suddenly halted by the pressure of a weight jumping onto the bed. The feeling of kneading moves up your leg with the unmistakable tenderness of tiny paws. Pulling the covers down you smirk at your creamy brown cat, he has a distinct dark brown line above its lip that made him too adorable to leave at the animal rescue as you dropped off a donation of cat food all those years ago. His whiskers tickle your nose as he makes himself comfortable on the warm bed now bathing in the morning glow. “Mornin’ Burt.” You hum; he moves to run his silky body under your raised hand. His purrs are music to your ears, and he rolls over to lay beside you. Checking the time on your smart watch, you figure now’s a good enough time as ever to start your day. Once he’s alerted you to the fact that he's ready for food, it won’t be long until his purring turns to screeches of desperation.  

Rolling out of bed, you slip on a pair of checkered red and black shorts and fuzzy slippers to head down the hall, stopping to fill up Burt’s food bowl so he doesn’t begin to berate you again. The sound of the food scattering against the porcelain bowl as it pours stirs him from his spot on your bed and he quickly scurries after the sound and starts munching on the dry kibble. The dull lull of the coffee machine soothes your still tired head, but before you can even enjoy the first sip of your coffee, your phone rings. The noise startles you slightly and you glance at it to see your mom’s picture light up the screen. A smile creeping on your face, you tap on the answer and speaker buttons before continuing your mulling about the kitchen with the phone on the counter. 

“Hi Mom.” You say sleepily, a yawn pulling at your lips.  

Her voice comes through the speaker, “Hi sweetie, I’m not too early, am I?”  

“No, no it’s fine. Burt was eager for some breakfast, so he woke me up a while ago.” You say, dismissing her concern. 

“You know it’s because of that diet you have him on, he’s hungrier earlier.” She says matter-of-factly. 

You let out a huffed laugh and eye the chonky cat on the floor, now satisfied after his breakfast. “I know, but the vet really tore me a new one when we were there for his shots because he was overweight, so we gotta do what we gotta do.” Shrugging, you place a piece of bread into the toaster and turn the dial before moving to the cupboards to grab some peanut butter and a knife from the drawer.  

“So, what do you have planned today?” She asks. 

Placing your items on the counter you lean against the white marble and fiddle with your fingers, “I was planning on staying home most of the day, but I realized last night that I still need to get Kenzie’s birthday present, so I’ll be at the mall at some point I guess.” Your sister is turning seventeen next week and you had completely neglected to get her a present, only remembering when she started sending you messages about party plans the night before.  

“She said if you needed ideas that she is really into Lululemon.”  

Rolling your eyes, you reply. “Of course she is, what teenager isn’t into overpriced sweaters.”  

She laughs, “Yeah well, you know she’s at that age where they all have to have the best stuff.” 

Smiling, you ask, “What are you doing today then?” Perking up when your toast pops up from the toaster. It’s overly hot when you grab it, so you quickly toss it down and mutter a curse under your breath before placing your thumb and index finger in your mouth to soothe the slight pain from the contact.  

Her voice comes through the receiver again, “I have lunch with your grandma and then a yoga class this afternoon.” 

Smirking, you comment, “Oh is that why you called? To try to convince me to join yoga again?” The knife glides over the piece of bread as you spread the peanut butter from the jar over it. 

“I really think you’d like it dear, it’s very energizing.” Her voice laced with a hint of condescension. 

You roll your eyes again and reply in a sarcastic tone. “Mom, I told you, I’m not bendy.”  

She chuckles with you and sighs, “Well maybe if you were more bendy you wouldn’t be single.”  

Your mouth gaps in mock offence, “Mom! Ugh don’t even get into that. I am doing just fine thank you very much.” You punctuate your sentence with a bite of your toast and a smirk at your mother’s continuous intrusion on your love life.  

“Alright, I’ll just continue to be the bendy one in the family. Tim will enjoy it.” She comments about your stepfather.  

“Ugh, gross. Goodbye mom!” You say with a mouth full of bread and peanut-butter. 

She giggles, “See you later, get your sister something nice.” With that she hangs up the phone.  

Shaking your head, you pick your phone back up and pull up one of your many dating apps. Her comment didn’t bother you, but it did remind you it has been a while since your last date. During your early 20s, you were a bit of a wild child. Lots of dating and partying, whiskey might’ve just come out of your vein if you had bloodwork done. So, by the time your 30s hit, you were a little worn out and fell into a more domesticated lifestyle of Greys Anatomy and crocheting. Maybe it was time to look for someone to talk to that isn’t related to you in some way or simply a friend from work. Scrolling through the endless photos of men on another dating app you pretended didn’t exist that barely piqued your interest while munching on your toast began to bore you more than you thought it would. Meeting someone the old-fashioned way in person is far more your style. But the times have changed, and you don’t exactly have many opportunities to be a damsel in distress saved by a white knight in this day in age.  

Dating in itself didn’t particularly scare you, you enjoy talking with guys and flirting, but the intimacy of it is was what shook you. You had been a little, let’s say, free-spirited when it came to sex in your previous life, but now you’re more cautious. More closed off to giving something so delicate to another man. It’s been a while since the last time you slept with someone, a boyfriend you didn’t have much in common with but could at least make you laugh, but definitely not finish.  

Looking down at Burt curled up at your feet, you sigh. “Sorry boy, no new daddy for you today I guess.” Tucking your phone into your shorts pocket you take the last bite of your toast and head back upstairs to get ready for the day.  

The mall is bustling, the heat of the day seemingly driving people inside. You’re able to locate one of those scuba sweaters from Lululemon in a bright pink for your sister that you’re sure she’ll love and then head over to the food court to grab a cinnamon roll for the road. The streets are fairly busy when you pull out of the parking lot, not to be unexpected on a Saturday morning, but you’re happy to take it slow and enjoy your snack as you head back home. You are remiss that you forgot your sunglasses at home as the glare of the mid-day sun blasts through your windshield. 

Only a few more blocks until home, you’re running through your list of to do’s in your head for when you get home. Dishes, wash some work clothes and actually use the exercise toys you got for Burt, when a sudden CRASH breaks your train of thought and your head slams into the left side of the car. Your car spins and you hold onto the steering wheel for dear life as you wait for it to stop. Teeth gritted together and foot slamming onto the brakes in an attempt to slow it down. Your air bag bursts in front of you and the vehicle collides with another object you can’t see before it finally comes to a halt, glass from the passenger side window scattered throughout the front of the vehicle.  

A few blocks away, a group of paramedics are seated on a collection of armchairs and loveseats, waiting for their next call.  

“Go fish.” Benny rings out to Will with a smug grin.  

“Hm? It’s not my turn.” Frankie states confused, looking down at the cards in his hand and the deck on the table in front of him.  

Benny chuckles, “Earth to Frankie, I said Go fish, not Go Fish.” 

Frankie looks up to think for a second about the phrasing and then snorts at his confusion, his lips curling into a smile. 

Will rolls his eyes and picks up a card, “Not only can I not believe you talked us into playing this game, but I’m also losing terribly at it.” 

Benny grins smugly, the scruff on his face twitching with his smile, “Hey, the day shift is boring. Gotta switch it up every once in a while.”  

Santi shakes his head and looks down at his cards, “So, how are things going with Maria Fish?” he asks, his eyes flitting up to Frankie seated beside him.  

Frankie pulls his lips tight and shrugs, “Good as it can be when you’re getting a divorce. Sign the final bit of paperwork soon and then I guess I’m a free man.” His deep brown eyes scan the cards in front of him. 

“You’ve been a free man for almost a year, why you’ve waited this long to even try to date is beyond me.” Santi comments. 

“I know, but just didn’t feel right. It’s not like I hate Maria, just didn’t work out. I still have to be civil with her for Nico’s sake.” Frankie comments. His marriage was shaky to begin with before what happened in South America, thinking a baby would fix it, they had Nico. After he got back from his much lengthier trip than he thought he would take, they only bickered and inevitably decided that two happy homes for Nico were better than one miserable home. She had wasted no time after their separation, having recently moved in with a guy she’s been dating for 6 months now. Frankie, however, feels like he is stuck in a time loop until the paperwork is over, spinning his wheels. He has no reason to feel that way, maybe some self-inflicted punishment after what happened to Tom and making Maria scared while he was missing in the jungle. Either way, a real relationship has not been in cards for him this entire time. 

Santi finally returned to the US a little over a year ago, and the four of them decided to put their steady hands, and good in a crisis skillset to use by becoming paramedics. Good wages, and they get to feel like they’re helping people again. No one shooting at them while they attempted to save lives was an added bonus.  

The phone on the wall suddenly rings and Santi jumps up to grab it, “Garcia here.” He says as he leans against the wall, his foot swinging over to rest on the other. 

The rest of them sit and wait as he collects the information from the 911 operator. He confirms the call and hangs up before turning to the group and begins patting his pocket for his phone. “Nice jinx Benny, three car accident on Park not far from here. They want both ambulances. Let’s go.”  

With that, all four of them spring into action and head towards their vehicles. Will jumps behind the wheel of one with Benny beside him, and Frankie pulls open the driver’s side of the second with Santi sprinting around to the other side. In an instant, their lights are flashing and the doors to the bay are opening for them to screech out onto the street. Santi is relaying the details of the accident over the walkie talkie to Benny and Will in the other ambulance.  

When he’s done, he looks over at his friend in the driver’s seat, leading them towards the scene of the crime. Always calm when he is driving or flying, doesn’t matter what the type of circumstance is, Frankie is always the guy you can count on to get you there safely.  

Santi clears his throat and shifts in his seat slightly, “So, do you wanna start coming with us to bars now that you’re allowed to date again? Meet a nice girl.”  

Frankie shrugs, “I know I’ve been out of the game for a while but, is that really where you meet nice girls? Shouldn’t I be talking to girls in coffee shops who are reading and have glasses on.” He jokes with a slight smile.  

Santi smiles, even Frankie joking about meeting someone was a huge step for him. He’s been so closed off since the separation. “Well,” he continues, “However you meet her, and you will, meet her.” He confirms as he sees his friend’s chest deflate momentarily, “I’m sure she’ll be great, just give it time.” He reaches over and pats Frankies chest which earns him a nod and smirk in his direction.  

Pulling up to the intersection, Frankie can see three cars thrown about the area and lots of people stopped to help. There’s one boy in blue trying to redirect traffic as he comes to a stop near two of the cars. Getting out, Santi heads to the officer while Will, Benny and Frankie each jog towards a vehicle to check if there are still drivers in any of them.  

Frankie eyes the side of the small red car he approaches, analyzing that it must’ve been hit from the passenger’s side and hopefully the driver isn’t in too bad of condition. He rounds the back and takes a peek into the backseat for other occupants before stopping and leaning down to peer in the window of the driver’s side.  

The new figure snaps you back into attention, your car door opens and a man’s voice sounds from outside the vehicle. “Hey, miss, can you unhook your seat belt?” 

Nodding, you turn your sore body and unclip the seat belt. It slides across you and back into position. Your hair is disheveled across your face so you can’t see very clearly, and you only let go of the steering wheel a moment before, so you haven’t had a chance to correct yourself out of shock. He continues, “Okay, can you walk? Do you have any pain?” 

Clearing your throat, you reply. “I think so, and uh, - just my head.”  

“Okay, we’ll get you out of here then and move you over to the ambulance to get checked out.” His voice is strong and confident, and you do your best to nod your head before swinging your legs over to the outside of the car. His hands immediately reach out and grab hold of your arms to help you up. You walk with him as your guide to the ambulance, where he ushers you to take a seat on the edge of the now open back.  

Frankie leans down and starts assessing you, “Do you mind if I move your hair so I can check your face for any cuts?”  

“Okay.” You choke out, head still spinning.  

He brings his hands up to take hold of the parts of hair that have fallen over your forehead and gotten stuck on your eyelashes, pulling them apart and tucking them behind your ears. Only then does mouth fall slightly slack, you’re beautiful. Your skin, your lips, your eyes practically sparkle when you finally look up at him. He feels an overwhelming feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he takes a deep breath. 

You look up at the man in front of you, being able to take in more than just his voice and uniform, and he’s handsome. I mean, really handsome. His strong jaw and nose. His chocolate brown eyes and curling hair peeking out from under his uniformed hat. You swallow, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you can’t imagine you look particularly well, considering how much you had been crying while you waited for help, the pain in your head making you practically hysterical for a moment once the car came to a stop.  

He stutters, “Um, ok I’m just gonna check you for any cuts. Just keep talking to me alright. What’s your name?” 

You swallow deeply, as he takes your arm into his hand and begins turning it over, you give him your name and he repeats it. He finishes checking you over and does a concussion analysis.  

“Alright, so no major cuts but I’ll put some Band-Aids on the ones on your arm. Must’ve been from the glass from the passenger side window, and I’m not seeing any signs of a concussion. I know you said your head hurts, but it probably hit the side of the car pretty hard so just take it easy the rest of the day, take some pain meds and if you’re still in a lot of pain then go to the emergency room to get further checked out.” He kneels down in front of you, and you take in the caring look on his face. “Do you have a phone with you, to call a ride?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s um-,” You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to get the words out. “In my purse on the passenger seat.”  

He nods and then jogs over to your vehicle, reaching through the driver’s side to grab your bag off the floor. When he returns, he hands you the bag and you smile politely.  

“Should I call now or how much longer do I need to stay?” You ask.  

He clears his throat, having got distracted slightly by the way your eyes look as they gaze up at him from a lower position. “You can call now, I’ll let the officer know you’re ready to give a statement. He’ll arrange for your car to be towed, if you have a mechanic that you usually go to, they can take it right there. It doesn’t look too bad actually; I’d say you’re lucky.” He does his best to smile and ease your anguish, as well as calm his own nerves. He takes off his blood-stained gloves and becomes increasingly aware of the moisture that has built up inside them. He’s never had sweaty palms while assisting a patient before and he nervously rubs them on his thighs.  

His movement only brings your attention to how thick his thighs are and how much the material has to stretch on them. Blinking a couple times to help yourself focus, you reach into your purse and grab your phone. After hitting dial, Frankie walks away and heads to the officer.  

The phone rings as you wait patiently, “Hey sis.” Comes through the receiver you have pressed up against your ear.  

“Hey Carlos, um, listen I’m fine, but I was in an accident. I need you to come and pick me up. Can’t drive my car.”  

“Shit, what happened? Is everything alright?” His voice is laced with concern.  

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, really. I just need you to take me home.”  

“Okay, text me the address and I’ll leave right away.” 

Nodding, you reply, “Okay thanks, love you.” 

“Love you too.”  

Frankie stills, wishing he had stayed with the officer a tad bit longer, having heard the end of your conversation. He finds himself hoping that was your mom or someone like that, anything but a boyfriend or husband. “All good?” he asks. 

Looking back up at him you nod, “Yeah, I have someone coming.” You finish sending the text and place your phone back in your purse.  

“Good, good. I’ll just uh, take care of those little cuts so you don’t get any blood on you.” He leans past you into the ambulance to reach for his first aid bag. The smell of him engrosses you and makes your head somehow dizzier than it was. His broad shoulders fill up the space beside you as he pulls at his bag to find what he wants.  

He stands back up straight and applies the Band-Aids to the few cuts on your arm, as well as hands you an ice pack. Tossing the wrappings in the bag beside you and smiles. You look up at him with yearning, he’s so handsome, why are you entranced by him. It must be the head injury making you confused, you raise the ice pack to the side of your head that is aching. Before either of you can speak, the officer approaches and introduces himself, asking if you can explain what happened.  

Frankie begins to step back, “I’ll give you some space.” He turns and walks over to Santi who is closing up the back doors on Will and Bennys ambulance before giving it a few pats on the back. The vehicle immediately taking off.  

Santi nods at Frankie, “Driver that caused the accident may have some broken bones, they’re taking him the hospital. The driver in the black sedan was just bumped by the red car. They’re fine and their vehicle is as well, so they’re gonna head out. That red one need a tow?” he asks, gesturing to your vehicle.  

Frankie nods and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, she has someone coming to pick her up.”  

Noticing the way his friend shifts on his feet and distractingly keeps looking back at you, he prods. “You good?” 

He looks back at Santi and realizes his mental absence, “Yeah, yeah fine.” He looks back at you once more, hypocritical to what he just said.  

Santi smirks and crosses his arms across his chest, “What’s up with that girl?” he asks, nodding over to you, still speaking with the officer.  

Frankie lets out a huff and steps closer, “I don’t know man. Never felt like this while treating someone. She’s beautiful, just look at her.” They both look back again as you try your best to smile at the officer.  

“She’s a looker. You gonna ask her out or something?” He asks joyfully.  

Shrugging, Frankie says. “I don’t know. It’s not exactly appropriate to ask out a patient, is it?” He shoves his nervous hands into his pockets to try to wipe some of the moisture that has built up again.  

“Honestly, didn’t read the HR manual.” Santi shrugs with a sly grin.  

Frankie lets a deep breath out his nose and slowly makes his way back to the ambulance. He nods at the attending officer as he thanks you for your time and leaves. “How’s that head of yours?” he asks with kind eyes, trying to come off as considerate and not creepy.  

Slowly lowering the ice pack you bear a smile, “Not bad, I think some ice and rest will help.”  

He nods, “That’s good, I’m glad. So, uh-,” he begins nervously before a sleek black car pulls up to the scene and draws his attention.  

You look over his shoulder and notice the car, your brother practically hanging out the window as he calls your name to tell you he’s here.  

“Oh, that’s my ride. Am I okay to leave?” you ask nervously, shifting your bag onto your shoulder. A slight pain from the movement makes you twitch your neck uncomfortably. 

Looking back at the man in the car and back again at yourself, Frankie feels his chest deflate. “Yes, feel better.” 

Pulling an awkward smile you nod, “Thanks.” Standing from the edge of the ambulance, you raise the ice back to your head. A few steps by him and you feel this pull, behind your belly button. It draws you back and you turn to look at him again, “Hey.” You say, and his head snaps up. His sweet brown eyes washing over you and sending chills down your spine. “Thanks for saving me.”  

Frankie looks down bashfully, and then meets your eyes. “You’re welcome.” His smile is sheepish, he still isn’t used to the hero treatment. He used to correct people, saying it was only his job and anyone else would had done the same, but they seem to enjoy thanking him and it makes them feel a bit better. He finally stopped turning down their acknowledgements and flowers when he realized it wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon. 

A lop-sided smile creeps on your face as you turn and head to the car. Climbing in the passenger side, your brother reaches over and hugs you tightly, before pulling away from the scene.  

Frankie heads back to the ambulance and starts collecting his things. Santi appears beside him, a somber look on his face, “That was a boyfriend I presume?” 

Shrugging, he replies, “I guess so.” His head still down as his hands work on muscle memory alone, his mind somewhere else entirely.  

“Don’t sweat it man, it’ll happen.” Santi says, patting his friend on the back before rounding the ambulance and hopping back in. 

Chapter 2

[liamket]

Day 13 – Alt - Shivering

Character(s): Four, Sky and Legend (LU)

Words: 565

Summary: Not sleeping for so long can have consequences, worse if they’re thrown to another place so suddenly

Whump scale: 1 (see the full scale here)

Part 1 in Day 8

-

When he opened his eyes his whole body was in misery.

His head was made a chaos, a buzzing sound too loud for comfort and the light making it worse. His body felt cold, too cold.

Moving was hard, but Four managed to turn his head a little, spotting the figure of Sky wandering around him while talking something with someone else in red, Legend?

His mind was quiet and loud at the same time, at least now the light wasn’t that bad. He tried again to sit, his body barely working to hold him.

Apparently he gained the other’s attention “He’s awake” Sky said and the veteran turned around to face him, in a moment he was already kneeling next to him.

“You good? Need food? Water? How do you feel?” His eyes were scanning his whole body, searching for any sign. “You’re shivering, we need more blankets. Sky!” The chosen hero was already with some, maybe these were theirs.

The warm of the blankets were a little comforting, but his head and body still felt so… Wrong, he only felt like this when going through a…

“Where we…” He looked around to see directly to Legend’s eyes, searching for an explanation. They were the only ones around.

“A portal appeared and separated us; we’ve been here for already an hour” The vet got his fire rod and put it on Four’s lap.

“Also,” Sky added “you’ve been sleeping at least for two whole days, we had to make sure that you ate and drank water without you choking”

“Yeah also that.” Legend sneezed, then kept talking “The thing that kept you awake for so long was a spell from a wizzrobe, it made impossible to fall unconscious for you, that’s why when I tried to knock you out it didn’t work.”

Four’s head was starting to be less fuzzy, but he limited his responses to softly hum. That made sense, so that was what that spell was for.

His body in the other side, was not working correctly. Shivers came through his spine every once in a while and that made his whole body hurt for the movement. Not moving for two days maybe had it’s consequences.

“So… Should we search for the others? Or…” The smith whispered, waiting for the other two to have a plan.

“Well…” Sky started ��I could search for them with the master sword” He fell into silence, that wasn’t good.

“He could, if only he had her with him” Legend added “We left out things with the others, maybe they have her”

So, searching for them was out of option, that wasn’t convenient. Maybe they could…

“We should start moving, I don’t want for a snow storm to catch us while we have Four with us like this” Legend isn’t looking behind him, he should.

“You’re right, maybe sleeping more could make him feel better. Can you carry him?” Sky, pay attention please.

“Mm… For a while, cold makes my joints stiff, we can pass him between us, he’s not that heavy.” Four wasn’t listening to their conversation anymore.

The shivering came, but this time not because the same reason of before.

“Guys… We have company.” When they looked at him and followed his gaze, a full pack of wolfos were already surrounding them. When the veteran grabbed his sword bare teeth were shown, charging towards them.

[mastercherry]

Another one for my Sterek friends.

Way Back Wednesday to a fic idea I had called The Returned. Established Relationship, most of the pack is alive AU. Where (trigger warning for tempory major character death) Stiles gets killed. I believe I had it by some other wolves.

Anyways, don't worry, he doesn't stay dead. He wakes up underground, having been buried at his funeral, and he has no idea what's happening or what's going on. Context clues tell him, at least, that he died. He's in the cemetery, next to his mom. He's wearing his Funeral Suit. He dug himself out of his own grave....

That tells him that he doesn't know where to go. His dad thinks he's dead. His friends, Scott, Kira, Lydia... everyone.

Derek....

So he goes to the only place he can really think to go- Deaton's.

He spooks the vet a little bit. But the man eventually says he thinks he knows what's happened to Stiles. He's come back as a Returned.

"Don't you remember the most powerful magic in the world, Stiles?"

And Stiles has to roll his eyes because yeah, he remembers. Love.

So basically love can be strong enough to bring people back from the dead. Stiles struggles to believe that because if it were true then his mother would have come back. But that's not how it works. Love needs a boost for it to work. A spark, if you will. And Stiles is that spark for the Hale pack. For Beacon Hills. Even the Nemeton. All of that converged together to bring him back. To return him.

Idk, I haven't fully hashed out the details. But basically, he's brought back from the dead. Everything is fine except normal food is inedible to him. He can only eat gross rotting and dead stuff. Which is really gross and he doesn't want to do it. But if he doesn't then he will eventually fade back away.

It's angsty and dramatic but also has a warm fuzzy ending and stuff. Idk. Yeah.

[m-jelly]

Hear me out, the wolf shifter idea but a fox-shifter. Their quiet and sly but they've got a lot of ideas on how to bother all the vets without actually doing anything wrong. (They just shift into their fox form and follow them everywhere but when they try to have someone else see the fox, they turn back to normal)

Fuzzy tail

Fox shifter HCs

In the OG ask there was no mention of romance, but for this, I will make it as Levi and the reader are a couple and Levi knows and the vets too about your ability.

Messing around:

You'd turn into your cute fox form without someone seeing and then follow someone from behind for a while before hiding.

You appear in a spot that would be impossible for a fox to get and just stare at people before swiftly disappearing.

Using your cloak only, you will run past scouts with your cape between your teeth making people think a fox was raiding the base.

You would walk places and make sure paw prints were left behind. You would walk in a line before getting out of the way and leaving a strange and confusing path for people who now think a fox just vanished.

The biggest prank is you sitting at the end of the bed of someone who hurt you a lot. When they wake up and see you, you will say hello to them causing them to be terrified that the rumoured ghost fox in the base has now spoken to them.

Romance with Levi:

You are naturally very warm, so holding you brings Levi a lot of comfort, you're like a hot water bottle for him.

You sometimes turn into a fox and lie on his lap to give him a tiny bit of comfort, your soft fur is lovely but he does much prefer the real you.

He was more fascinated than afraid when he first found out what you were. He swore to protect you no matter what.

He will playfight with you because he knows you like it and it is natural for you to do so. He always wins, but he enjoys it a lot too.

You both like cleaning because you have a bit of a sensitive nose, so clean things are nice to you. So, you bond a lot over cleaning things.

Once your power is known:

People will make a big fuss of you and want you to turn in front of them, so you become a bit of a show pony. It's okay at first, but Levi helps you tell people no after a while.

You use your fox skills to go on recon missions. You will go out alone to check out an area. Titans don't attack animals, so you can go past them easily and report how many there are.

You use your skills to move cargo from one camp to another as well. You bite the bar on a trailer and run off across the land.

You will train a lot as a fox to try and get faster and faster to make sure you can help the scouts out as much as possible.

You will be an emotional support scout and use your fox form to comfort scouts who are emotionally and physically damaged.

[gingerjolover]

Lasagna - Phoebe Bridgers x fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Phoebe's had a long day at the studio and her gf knows exactly what to do when she needs comfort.

G's notes: look i don't know if pheebs likes lasagna but... that's what i had for dinner and that's what her gf makes her...okay? also anon that requested i hope u like it&lt;;3 also unedited

WC: somewhere around 800 words (short king!)

Warnings: RPF, fluffy fluff, no fundamental physical descriptors?

Your neck and chest are breaking a sweat, but there’s very little that would move your sweet black pug from where she’s sleeping on your chest. Maxine’s small body is across your shoulder, her face in your neck, tongue hanging out as she snores softly. Your hand rubs her soft back, absentmindedly watching TV. Your day off went by too quickly; errands, a vet visit, a manicure, and an experimental dinner recipe later and you can finally relax. The only thing that would make this better would be your girlfriend…

“Hi,” Phoebe grumbles when she walks in. Immediately, your skin prickles, and she looks exhausted. Her hair is messy, her eyes puffy, lips in a subtle frown. She huffs while she puts her bag down, toeing off her shoes before instantly walking over to you, rubbing her eyes. 

“Hi sweet girl…long day?” you murmur, letting out an oof as Phoebe plops her head on your stomach, your hand going to her hair. She nods, nuzzling your t-shirt, kissing Maxine’s leg before Maxine excitedly hops up, stepping on your collarbone. “Ow, Maxi” you mumble, tapping the pug’s butt. 

“Careful with mama,” Phoebe mumbles sweetly. You adjust your legs, allowing Phoebe to crawl into the deep couch with you, head on your chest. 

“Lucy and Jules arent coming over?” you ask, threading your fingers through your girlfriend's hair. She shakes her head, pulling Maxine closer before her lips find purchase on your chin and jaw. “Needed a break,” she mumbles, kissing your neck. 

“Mhm,” you hum, allowing her to nuzzle into you, your hand rubbing her upper back. She moans softly, allowing you to work out the kinks in her neck. 

“I love writing and I love them I’m just… tired,” she says, moving her head so she can hear your heartbeat, matching her breathing to yours. 

“S’okay to be tired, you’ve been working hard,” you smile, your finger running down the bridge of her nose and poking her cheek. 

“Not as hard as you,” Phoebe smiles, kissing your cheek. She’s almost too aware of how much you do around the house dispute working a non-industry job like herself. She stares at you in admiration, wondering how she got so lucky to have you. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask softly, pushing the hair out of Phoebe’s eyes. She smiles and shrugs her shoulders animately. You giggle, tapping her butt, “Why don’t you go shower while I plate up dinner…hm?” you suggest. 

“Okay,” she whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your lips, sitting up gently so as not to push on you while you’re under her. 

She kisses Maxine’s head, setting her back down on your stomach before kissing you again, a little longer this time, she’s breathing against your lips, humming slightly. She pulls away, cheeks flushed as she makes her way to the bathroom to shower. 

You know she’s craving comfort, so you jump into action. You put her favorite pajamas in the dryer to warm up, fill up her favorite water bottle, turn on the fairy lights, get some fuzzy blankets and the big throw pillows, and make the couch comfy so you both can sink into it. You turn on the show you're watching together and light some candles before dishing up dinner. 

“Pheebs? Your pajamas are in the dryer,” you yell out when you hear the shower turn off. “Thanks babe,” she responds, voice muffled by the bathroom door. 

When Phoebe comes down, warm and cozy from her shower, her eyes start to water seeing how you set up the living room. 

“Dude… it looks like Pinterest threw up in here, I love it…thanks baby,” she says laughing, wiping her eyes as she sits down on the floor, back against the couch. 

You giggle, blushing as you can feel her appreciation, her tired eyes looking at you in adoration. “Here,” you say, holding out a plate of her favorite dinner, albeit a new recipe, but she looks like she could start crying, staring at you like you’ve handed her the moon. 

“What?” you ask, sitting next to her on the floor, staring at your girlfriend with humorous eyes. She puts her plate on the coffee table and kisses you passionately, her hands on your cheeks. “Babe!” you mumble in surprise, putting your plate down before your hand goes to the floor next to her leg, steadying yourself so she can kiss you deeply. She pulls away, out of breath, pecking your lips repeatedly, “Thank you…I’m so happy after any day I get to come home to you,” she admits, her tone thick with emotion.

Before you can respond, Maxine barks, twirling in a circle. “C’mere Maxi,” Phoebe murmurs, grabbing the pug in her arms and kissing her head. You giggle, watching your girlfriend with loving eyes, happy to comfort her after a draining day.

[returntoregalia]

Ripred's always so proud when Gregor gets salty with others. Like. "Hell yeah, that's my boy." Bro gets so joyous and warm fuzzy when the 12 year old bitches back at Lapblood and Solavet or Luxa. He laughs and backs him up. I just love that detail with Red so much and it's so funny that he's this middle aged war vet with an elementary schooler. Like teaching a sixth Grader to say 'fuck the police' in your old hard years. It's just "AWWWWWWW that's so precious. Lookit my lil' baby."

YES I love when Ripred admires Gregor's attitude! Those are the best scenes. Like when Gregor talks back to Luxa and Henry in Book 1 and Ripred is like "Tell them, boy! Tell them your country fought a war so they didn't have to answer to kings and queens." Great times

[lilithsterrarium]

Thinking about taking you and the dog to get your microchips. The vets are so sweet to my good pup, but with you, you're lucky they aren't allowed to squish other people's micros.

Afterwords, I take you both to the pet store. The kids are sent to the nearby movie theater at their own insistence. My good boy gets so many treats and a new black collar, while you are sat in my locket, only let out to model all the micro collars they have, and pick a pretty new toy from the micro sex toy section.

My daughter's micro is with us too, being chewed on by the dog as we walk. She doesn't have the right to even touch me with her filthy hands. While you pick your toy, I practice drop it with my good pup. Again and again, that stupid inconsequential bitch screams as she's dropped from the dog's mouth, the sickening crunch of her bones sounding each time she hits the floor. Her screams are annoying.

I take our merry little band to the public bathroom, setting her broken little body down in the public toilet while I watch you play with your new toy. While she slowly suffocates under the weight of my waste, you get to cum yourself unconcious.

When I'm finished in the bathroom, I give her faucet-drenched form back to the dog while your sleepy self is settled back in my locket. A nice outing for everything that matters to me.

🍒

AWWWWWW!!!! DHDHDHSHFHD YAYAYY!!!!! <333

I'm used to the vets playing a little bit rough! I'm used to that disgusted expression they give me as I patiently wait on the counter, I'm used to their gloved hands pinning me down, I'm used to them rolling their eyes as I thank them... being chipped is super fun!!! Even if I'd rather die than even THINK about disobeying my owners, it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside knowing that no matter what, you'll be able to know exactly where I am at all times... plus, if I get kidnapped by one of the neighborhood kids or if I get trapped in the mailbox again, I know that you can easily find me!!! The dog is much more anxious, weakly barking and growling, but the nice vets get it to calm down soon enough, and it's all chipped up too.

I sit in my locket so happily, humming a made up little song about serving my betters to myself while listening to you try on collars on the dog... when I am let out, even I have to admit that he looks SUPER snazzy in his new black collar, wolfing down treats... I'm so happy to try on all the new micro collars, but I'm a bit indescisive (I only want to wear whichever one makes you the most happy, after all!!!!) When it comes to sex toys though... well, I do have a bit of an idea there... blushing as I pick out a tiny little knotted dog-like dildo the size of my leg, excitedly showing it off... even if I can't fit the dog's knot, now I can pretend, right??? (Plus, it's such a nice cherry red color, it reminds me of you!!!) I make sure you're okay with it while watching the dog chew on the brat... I do feel a little bad, because at one point she WAS my better, but she keeps screeching that she deserves rights and begging the employees for help before she's easily dropped to the ground again... my own little dick twitches with every impact, and I find myself watching... not quite in jealousy (I PRIDE myself on being a good girl after all, and being jealous of a bad girl is horrid!!!!) though admittedly, I do find it flustering how rough your good puppy plays with her...

I'm allowed to take care of that "excitement" in the stall, too!!! Set up on top of the toilet paper dispenser, desperately thrusting my new toy into myself over and over again, moaning your name as you use the facilities... I don't have a good view, but imagining what she must be going through, so close to suffocating under her better's waste... it only makes me speed up, moaning so happily as I bounce on my toy, climaxing again and again until I can barely move...

I'm lazily sitting in my locket, humming that same tune to myself, clinging my new toy to my chest with a brand new collar around my neck... I love my owner so, so much, and even if you can't hear it, I thank you over anr over again in my little song... I can hear your kids run up, all done with their movie, laughing about all the funny fart jokes (that mostly involved micros being involved) and I can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Chipped, collared, exhausted, happy, but most importantly, yours <3