#I let the clinic cats sniff them this morning

[theflashisgone]

My office is hosting the Southern Water Tribe

Katara (L) and Sokka (R) are about 7 weeks old and have gone from terrified huddling to screaming for attention in the morning in three days.

The friend whose garage they were born in may or may not be able to catch the other two members of the Gaang. These ones are up for adoption, but I'm mostly posting them because they're cute.

@fractiousrvt, @shadythetortie, @lizziedoesvetpath, @drferox

[ladytauria]

👀👀 meeting in the ER with damitim pls?

thank you!!

this is more urgent care than ER---actually, i'm picturing this happening at Leslie's clinic?---but. still on theme xD it's also heavily inspired by this post, bc... it's just so damian, you know?

“So… you said a cat did this?”

“Ah… yes.” Damian is distracted—not by the distant tug of a needle, in and out of his skin, but rather by the man doing the stitching.

He would not call him the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, but the man is certainly… attractive, with his sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose. Most striking is the pale, ice blue of his eyes; made even more so by the dark circles under his eyes.

Damian can relate.

“It was a kitten, actually,” he admits, somewhat reluctantly. 

That gets those eyes on him, the needle stilling. The nurse’s brows raise. “A kitten?”

“She was very fierce.” Normally he keeps gloves in his car for such an occasion, but he had taken them out to wash them, and— Well. Of course he ended up finding the kitten before he got them back into his car.

"I see," the nurse says, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I wonder if I'll be stitching up the next poor person to find her, too."

Damian sniffs. "Hardly," he says. "She's in my car." His emergency kennel, luckily, had still been there. He hated to leave the poor creature out there—on the way over, he had contemplated calling Richard or Todd to pick her up for him. However, neither of them was likely to listen to his instructions to leave her alone. Richard because he would believe he could befriend her, and Todd because he would underestimate the severity.

Pity Cassandra was out of town.

Pity Jon lived two hours away.

“Huh.” The nurse goes back to stitching. “You didn’t let go?” He sounds vaguely impressed. Damian cannot help the way he puffs up with pride.

“Of course not,” he says. “I would hardly leave the poor thing out there to suffer. Fierce or not, Gotham’s streets are no place for a kitten.”

The curve of the man’s mouth turns—soft, almost. It is reminiscent of a look he often sees from Richard, though it incites a different feeling in him entirely. He feels… warm. His fingertips tingle.

“Of course not,” the man echoes, softly. “Do you do that a lot? Rescue kittens, I mean.”

“At nearly one in the morning? No, not typically,” Damian says. “However, I volunteer at an animal shelter, and I am enrolled in the veterinary program at Gotham University. I find myself rescuing many animals.” He also had, vaguely, considered the notion of stitching himself up. It was only the knowledge of Richard and Pennyworth’s disappointed faces that had sent him to the clinic, instead.

“Huh,” the man says, thoughtfully. “So what happens to the kitten now?”

“She is young enough it should be fairly easy to socialize her,” Damian says. “Once she is used to people, I suppose I will look into finding her a home.” He would keep her himself, but— He has reached his limit on the amount of animals he can realistically take care of. His younger self would scoff at this, but part of adulthood was learning his limits. A dog, two cats, a snake, and several fostered kittens were certainly his.

The nurse hums, snipping the thread. He lingers at Damian’s side. “You know… I always wanted a cat. Do you… think I could call you, sometime? Maybe arrange a visit?”

Damian’s pulse quickens. “I—yes. I would be, ah. Amenable to that.”

The nurse smiles. The brightness of it steals the breath from Damian’s lungs. “Cool,” he says. “Hold on just a second.”

The nurse disposes of the needle and washes his hands before snagging one of the brochures from the countertop, by the sink. He withdraws a pen from his pocket and writes, quickly.

When he passes it to Damian, he winks. “You should be good to go now, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you,” Damian says, sliding off the exam table. As he walks out the door, he glances down at the paper. On it is a phone number, which Damian memorizes automatically, signed—

Tim Drake. Call me :)

Next to words is a doodle of a cat, wearing what is likely a nurse’s cap.

Damian is impossibly, terribly charmed.

[ send me an au if u like~ ]

[muffindaddystyles]

Hi, could you pls write something about Y/n finding out she’s pregnant and she decides not to keep the baby. Like, maybe Harry and y/n are not married (not that you have to be married to have a baby, it’s just a suggestion) and maybe Harry gets kind of mad at the beginning but then understands why she doesn’t want the baby. In every fanfiction they always end up keeping the baby, yes it’s cute, but babies take a lot of your time, they are expensive and sometimes annoying. Maybe it’s not the right time for them to be parents!! Make it extra angst pls

A/N: I agree with you, honestly it's okay for women/partner not to want kids in a relationship.

Warning: Mentions of abortion and angst.

//

Y/N just came back from one of the sleepovers of her bestfriend. It was fun, no offence but every food-ly item there made her sick to her core and atlast she ended up throwing. Ofcourse, all her girlie-bestie were there to give her a back rub, hold her hair for her, made her chamomile tea and most importantly did a serious talk to her in their pillow fort while sipping onto their hot bevy.

When Y/N told them she's been feeling like this from goodly two weeks they all gasped making Y/N's nerves jumble furthermore —--- what they advised her next flew over her head as she kept on poking her finger through the loops of her crotched cardigan, "Huh?" She hums innocently tucking her loose hair back.

"You could be pregnant. . ." Feli told her softly grabbing her hand, "Perhaps, could be sick too." Y/N scoffs diverting her eyes somewhere else and all her friends sighed in utter sympathy for her.

Y/N doesn't want to think about it at all. No way! This could happen. It's not right. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. She knows that the worst's been waiting for her as it hits her that her periods are late.

"We can find out, though . . ." Feli slides the offer cautiously to her and when Y/N shook her head in rejection everyone insisted because they care about her. So, they ended up taking the test and it indeed came out as positive now Y/N's a crying mess cuddled with her friends as they assured her that it's gonna be alright.

"I don't wanna go home . . Can't face, Harry." She whimpers. Her heart beating wildly at the cluster of assumptions and thoughts. What she'll do now? What will happen to them? What if their decision wouldn't be same? What if he'll leave her?

"You've to love, Nia will drive you home yeah? Talk to him, I'm super sure he'll understand, he's been so supportive of you since you guys met." They all hugged her warmly before departing her off and Nia told her to call her in the morning walking her to the door.

When she enters the whole house has been dimmed to mellow light just mere instinctive noises of telly buzzing and when she pads inside she's met by the most adorable sight of Harry lounged over the couch one leg dangled over the floor and his neck craned in a bad angle; it seems like he fell asleep waiting for her and Y/N was about to retreat when he stirred up calling for her name.

"Pet?" He tries to open his peepers rubbing them with the back of his hand stretching out like a lazy cat, "You look devastated pet, what happened? Were ye'cryin' baby?" She stays silent taking in large breathers nibbling onto her lower lip. He scoots aside patting the spot beside him to make her sit and grabs her jaw to see her properly.

She looks down lip wobbling as she struggled to utter the sentence, "Harry . . ." She sniffs and he nods caressing the corner of her lip, "'m listening my love –- promise it's not somethin' scary." It is for her.

"I'm pregnant." Time ticks by and it feels like the air has densed to the point her lungs stopped functioning. His thumb, it halts in their loving to her and his breaths hitches in his throat glossing his eyes with lack of oxygen or joy? She can't diminish.

He cackles breathily as if he's hallucinating and then gasps out of the epiphany, her heart shatters into million pieces for giving him fake beacon of happiness when he hugged her tightly to his chest.

"Jesus. 'M so happy darlin'!" He squeaks into the crook of her neck bouncing his knee in excitement and she pushes him away shaking her head, "No, no, no — Harry, I don't want it." Her voice wavered as her eyes held plead for him to understand fisting the hem of his sweater out of anxiousness and Harry feels like someone snatched his grounds, numbness sets into his toes from the distress that's bolting shut his heart chambers.

"Wha –-- what? But we talked 'bout it darlin'." He stammers baffled at her descion. He's too sensitive and all over the place right now, his mindset's isn't capable of doing something that's best for them and maybe it's because of all the images of his own lil baby in all the corners of his home, it would be such a blessing to have one wouldn't it? His conscience screamed at him.

"We did — " She says but he cuts her off, "Then why?" His own voice breaking and she clears her throat to pull some courage. His weakness makes her weak too.

"Let me speak." He nods curtly at her to continue.

"We did. Yes, I want kids with you, Harry nothing will be more beautiful than that but . . . but 'm not ready now, financially, mentally and physically." He stands up at this pacing back and forth massaging the furrowing lines at his temple. At his closed off and cold demeanour Y/N sobs throwing her hands in air.

"Would you speak somethin'!?" He turns in a snap. His eyesblooshot lips quirking up into a bitter frown, he's outraged and been burning from inside but doesn't want to dump it at her knowing it would hurt him more than it would hurt her. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'll break the heart of his most precious human and the person who's been with him through thick n' thin.

He jeers furiously irritated at him and her, "What's there to speak? You've already made up ye'r mind, I've no say in it. Though, you know that 'm enough to raise our baby and could take care of you at the sametime." She grits something under her breath and he squints, "What?" His accent thick and gruff.

"I'm saying you're being a total, asshole!!" She tries not to yell at him groaning into the throw pillow.

She wants to kick him in shin when he just shrugged carelessly, "Okay."

"Trust me Harry not everyone's a rich millionaire like you!! I told you I'm not financially stable to have a kid and you rubbed it in my face, do you have any idea how your words were a jab to me!!" She wants to have an equal share of money in raising her kids, to give them the idea that in this household none of their parents are inferior or superior in bringing them up and she'd love for Harry to take extra care for them but his ruthless words made her feel so small and empty pocket infront of him for the first time.

She didn't notice until now that tears are dripping down his throat. Regret, remorse and guilt evident on his face but he wouldn't apologise and she's well aware of it. Wish she could hug him and kiss him to calm him down but he caused equal damage to her too.

"I'll go to clinic, in the morning." She mutters leaving him pooled into sorrow and the pricking shadow of telly while he cried to himself silently.

If it's the end. Then it should be a better one.

//

His boots click against the hard tiles getting loud hushes from people in waiting. He ducks down panting hopelessly, slamming his fist at the reception counter and looks at the nurse with furious eyes, "You're here to pick someone, sir?" He nods jutting his lips in attempt to take a good breather.

"Miss Y/N – "

She quickly points at the ward, "There, she might be unconscious at the mo'." He quickly shakes his head running towards it despite of all the stares he's getting from women of all ages.

There she was sitting at edge of bed in a gown –- looking small, defeated and devastated clutching the fabric of it from her knees. Her head perks up at the commotion taking in the sight of a disheveled Harry with a sandwich, vanilla moose, a tinsy plushie and sunflowers tucked under his armpit.

His chin quivers and eyes well up with bulky tears, "I'm sorry." He mouthes to her and she shakes her head with equally glossy eyes. He pads towards her carefully and sits beside her forwarding her the vanilla moose with shaky hand.

"Sorry couldn't get the chocolate one." A tiny sob breaks through her smile, "Don't like the vanilla anyways —" Her meeting his gaze was the ending point for him as he bunches his angel in a hug, smushing his face into the crook of her neck with little sniffles.

"It was very shitty of me." He admits tightening his arms around her waist and she calms him by rubbing his back, "We both weren't at our best last night." She whispers and he nods.

"I don't think you're any less than me baby, rather you're more stronger person than me in every way -- didn't —-- didn't wanna hurt you, promise. I love you so much for some different descion to tear us apart." His thumb runs in circles against her shoulders and she cups his face to look at him properly.

"Forgive me, please."

"I did bug —- the moment I realized you're a human being with emotions and feelings that could tipple over at their worsts. You've dreams too and I'm so sorry I wasn't able to fulfil them at the moment."

"You don't have to, yeah? No more apologising. We'll have a family when we both are ready." He kisses her temple, stroking her head affectionately and she bathes in that warmth.

"We could buy the chocolate moose on our way back home." He quips wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A teasing smile breaking through his caring persona and she grins, "Shut up." scooping some of it but he takes the tiny spoon from her feeding it to her himself heating her cheeks with shyness.

.

[pitviperofdoom]

"Vet AU" as in veterinarian? Definitely curious about that, vets don't get nearly enough love in fiction :) I had never considered that as an AU, but now I'm immediately picturing how it would go!

The Vet AU! Yes, Vet as in Veterinarian.

This one’s a bit scattered, so I’ll just post what I have written and let it speak for itself:

---

Martin was in the middle of doing payroll when Sasha poked her head into the office with a polite knock on the doorframe. “Hey Martin, Room 2 is ready for you.”

“Oh! Thanks.” Quickly, Martin finished filling in the last number, then saved the spreadsheet and got up from his chair. At the sight of her, he bit back a chuckle—she had one of the new puppies settled against her shoulder, wiggling and poking around like a furry little worm. “Tim leave you on babysitting duty?”

“Not his fault,” Sasha said with a grin. “He’s dealing with the rottweiler situation in 5. You good?”

“Yeah, fine—remind me who’s waiting for me in 2 again?”

“According to the appointment schedule, you’ll be handling a general check-up for ‘Sticks’,” Sasha replied. “New patient, new owner.”

“Right, right, yeah.”

They usually stuck him with the first-time patients. Not that Tim and Sasha weren’t perfectly friendly and welcoming, but Martin—at least according to them—had very calming manners. He had the appearance of someone pleasant, patient, and according to Sasha, far less likely to go off on people who came in asking to declaw their cats.

“I have gone off on people for asking to declaw their cats,” Martin had said when she told him this.

“Oh, obviously. You just look like someone who wouldn’t, that’s all.”

That was what he got for being the only one with years of retail experience.

As he approached the door to the examination room, he took a few settling breaths. First-time appointments weren’t always a big deal. A majority of the time, they went smoothly; the animals weren’t familiar enough with what went on in a vet office to be nervous about it, and their owners were just as eager to be polite and pleasant as he was. But once in a while…

Well, once in a while you got someone like Peter fucking Lukas—

He shook his head. No, don’t think about Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas wasn’t worth wasting the space in his brain.

Martin settled his face into a resting pleasant expression, and opened the door.

It didn’t take a great deal of self-control not to stop in his tracks, but it did take a little. More than none. It wasn’t anything bad! Nothing against this new pet owner.

Less than nothing, if Martin were privately, sheepishly honest with himself.

The person was standing by the examination table, with a cat-sized pet carrier beside them. They were tall enough for Martin to look them in the eye without tipping his chin down, which put them a cut above most. Their hair was shoulder-length, mostly black with a bit of dark blond creeping in at the roots, framing a jawline and cheekbones so sharply defined that there had to be at least a bit of makeup involved. The snakebite piercing and the bar through the eyebrow really rounded out the whole look, especially with the long black coat, and the tattoos on the hand that rested on top of the box.

Very nice hands, Martin noted, then shrugged off the observation and funneled all his nervous energy into the safety of politeness.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Dr. Blackwood.”

They shook the hand he offered. “Gerry. Ke—Delano. Thanks for seeing me.”

“No trouble at all,” Martin replied, nodding toward the pet carrier. “I assume that’s my patient in there?”

“Oh, right, yeah—gimme a second.” Gerry Delano unlocked the carrier, then carefully reached in and lifted its occupant out onto onto the table.

“Oh, aren’t you lovely,” Martin murmured. “This is Sticks?”

“That’s him,” Gerry replied, as the small, fluffy, and perfectly black rabbit stretched forward to give a spot on the table a sniff, then retreated back into a loaf shape. Gerry stroked him gently. “Least I think it’s a him.”

“Well, let’s see, then.” Martin reached out, careful not to spook his new patient, and started examining her. He—yes, he—handled it all about as calmly as a nervous rabbit could. Martin didn’t have to grab a towel, at least, nor did he have a repeat of the time a nervous lop tried to jump off the examination table entirely. Sticks tolerated all the poking, prodding, and manhandling, and only got wriggly once before a quick pause and readjustment calmed him back down.

“So how long have you had him?” Martin asked, once he was done. Sticks immediately fled to the nearest safe haven, which turned out to be his owner’s armpit.

“Less than a week, since Monday,” Gerry replied, petting him as he attempted to burrow deeper into his jacket.

“Well, he’s a touch underweight,” Martin told him. “There’s some information I can give you on rabbit care, if this is your first time owning one. He’s not neutered, is he?”

“Probably not,” Gerry replied, grimacing. “I don’t know much about his history. I took him off an acquaintance who got him as a present and wasn’t doing a very good job of things.”

Martin pulled a face. “Pets make poor presents, yeah. Well, he’s old enough to be fixed, and with history like that he probably hasn’t gotten the shots he needs. After we’re done here, you can talk to Rosie out front, schedule another appointment to get those done. What do you feed him?”

Gerry, as Martin discovered, was an absolutely model rabbit owner. He’d done his homework, read up on how to keep a rabbit happy and healthy, and hadn’t scrimped on expenses. It was no wonder Sticks was happy to hide under his arm for the remainder of the appointment; he had a good home with good food and toys and what sounded like a nice setup, habitat-wise.

“What sort of vegetables are good for him?” they asked at one point. “I’m thinking of growing some. I’ve got the space, but I’ve heard too much causes problems?”

They want to grow vegetables for their pet rabbit, Martin thought, a little dreamily. “Leafy greens are a safe bet,” he replied out loud. “Romaine, parsley, cilantro, kale, that sort of thing. Work them in slowly if he’s not used to them, and he’ll be fine. I can give you a list, if you’d like?”

When the appointment was done, a future one scheduled, and the patient safely back in his carrier, Martin finally let himself ask the question that had been on his mind.

“So, is there a special meaning to ‘Sticks’?” he asked. “Is it short for something, or does he like to play with them, or…?”

“What?” Gerry looked confused for a moment, before the question seemed to click. “Oh, no, not Sticks like—he’s Styx as in the river.”

“Oh! Styx, of course. Sorry, I just—I heard it, but I didn’t see it written down—”

Gerry’s grin was crooked, like they were trying to hold it back but only partially succeeding. “It’s fine. And thanks for everything.”

“Oh, no problem, you’re doing great,” Martin assured him, smiling back. “He’s lucky to have you.”

He was pleasantly baffled when a bit of color crept into Gerry’s face. “Right, well, who can resist a bunny.”

“You’d be surprised,” Martin said as he showed him out of the room. “If I get one more new rabbit owner telling me about their lovely outdoor hutch—”

Gerry looked scandalized at the thought as he left, which was another point in his favor.

“What’s that look for?” Tim asked as Martin passed him on the way back to the office. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me Jon has competition again?”

“Oh my God, Tim, give that a rest. There was never any competition!”

“Yeah, Tim, keep it straight, will you?” Sasha called out from the temporary puppy pen. “Oliver wasn’t competition. Martin was jealous of him, remember?”

“Nothing straight about it,” Tim shot back.

“I have payroll to do,” Martin reminded them primly. “You trust me with our finances and then you treat me like this. How dare you. I’m defrauding both of you, see if I don’t.”

***

It wasn’t that Martin fell in love easily, per se. It was just that he had a very specific set of standards when it came to who he found attractive, and in his line of work he always ran into people who either met every single one of them, or disappointed him in every possible way.

When he stepped into examination room 4 and found Jon Sims trying to herd three kittens away from the edge of the examination table at once, he kept his deep sigh on the inside. Jon was batting a thousand, and he’d been coming around long enough for everyone in the clinic to know about it.

“Hello again, Jon,” Martin said, doing a wretched job of hiding his smile.

Jon looked up with a helpless expression. “It’s kitten season,” he said, and Martin poured all his sympathies into a more situation-appropriate sigh.

“It’s kitten season,” Martin agreed. “So, where did these little ones come from?”

“These came from the colony in Battersea,” he replied. “Well, sort of. The mother already has an owner, and said owner keeps letting her out every day, even though I’ve told her time and again there’s that unfixed tom I’ve never been able to catch—and that’s just the one I know of—”

Martin scowled as he examined one of the squirming kittens. Much easier to manhandle than rabbits, he thought, apropos of nothing. “Better than being born on the street, I suppose.”

“Small mercies,” Jon agreed. “Anyway, when the kittens were born she told me either I could take them or she was going to take them to the park and give them out for free, which really isn’t a choice at all. Poor things.” The ginger kitten in his hands squealed until he settled it more comfortably against his shoulder, where it calmed down and immediately tried to eat his hair.

“Gonna find a foster for them, then?” Martin asked.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Jon sighed. “I’d do it myself, but—you know how Duchess is.”

“Yes. How is Duchess, by the way?”

“Cantankerous as ever. You don’t happen to have room, do you?”

“Room, yes. Time…” The black kitten was finished with her exam, and protested when she was put back in the carrier. “Did Sasha tell you about the puppies?”

“I haven’t seen Sasha today,” Jon replied, handing over the ginger kitten when Martin reached for it. “What puppies?”

“Rosie came in early this morning,” Martin informed him, wincing when the kitten bit hard on his thumb. “There was a box waiting by the door, with four puppies inside. No note or anything. So, that’s been fun.”

“I can imagine,” Jon said distastefully. “Are you serious? Someone just left a box of puppies on the doorstep? Like foundlings in a Dickens novel?”

Martin snorted before he could think better of it, startling the kitten into biting him again. Jon was the only person he’d ever met who would use a word like foundlings. “More or less. They are cute, though. Tim says his brother might be interested in taking one, and Sasha says she’s got friends who volunteer at a dog rescue. Retrievers usually aren’t too hard to adopt out.”

“Well, good luck to you. I suppose the season’s hard on everyone.”

The three kittens were in good health, which Martin was more or less expecting. Kittens tended to have a better chance when born in a home than out in the street—even in a less than responsible home. Between the two of them, Martin and Jon got them back into the battered old carrier, where they went back to wrestling each other in the blankets. Jon reached in to tickle one between the ears and got nipped for his troubles, but it only made him smile.

“Well, anyway,” Martin went on, realizing that he’d been staring long enough for it to be rude. “I don’t think you need any follow-up care instructions?”

Jon laughed quietly before closing the carrier. “No, I think I’m alright. Thank you, Martin.”

“It’s not problem. Always a pleasure.” Martin beamed. “Good luck on finding them a foster. And—catching that tom.”

“One of these days, I swear.”

Martin showed him back out to the front. Not necessary, considering how often Jon walked that hallway. But it felt nice to walk beside him, talking shop or chatting about nothing, all to the background tune of healthy, vocal kittens.

After waving Jon off, he turned back to find Sasha watching him from behind the front desk, chin in hand, the very picture of unimpressed.

“What,” said Martin.

“He’s been coming in for months,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to make a move or not?”

“No I’m not going to—Sasha, he’s a client.”

“So? It’s not like you’re his doctor. There’s no conflict of interest or weird power dynamic when your role in his life is taking care of animals he brings in.” Sasha sat back, letting the swivel chair roll backward. “You’re already chatting like old friends every time you see him.”

“I know, I know, it’s just—it’s weird?” Martin shrugged helplessly. “We only ever meet during business hours, so it’s like—how much of our, our, our friendliness is just a working relationship?”

“Easy fix!” Sasha spread her hands wide. “The man works at a cat rescue! You can just swing by and say hello anytime!”

“He works there part-time, and I don’t know what hours! Not like I can just stand outside and case the place until I see him.”

At that moment, the door to the back swung open, and Tim poked his head out. “Could I get some help? Bailey’s giving me some trouble and I need an extra set of hands.”

“Be right there,” Martin replied. To Sasha, he said, “Look, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, we’re just two people who keep meeting in very specific circumstances. And that’s all it needs to be.”

Sasha sighed. “I just think you’re making this out to be more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Martin muttered, and followed Tim into the back.

[slit-the-rasceta]

[Scribbled] Miku’s pregnant!

A/N: Thank you for the lovely response to chapter 1! I'm still planning out the story, but here's a small bit to get the ball rolling following Miku's 'reveal'. Also, the Netflix anime adaptation just dropped, let's go watch! Cross-posted on ao3!

Thankfully, it was a weekend.

Miku didn’t have any pending deliverables for work, and the neighborhood association meeting was postponed. They both had the entire Saturday alone. Well, plus one.

Tatsu was spending a moment wrapping his head around them being pregnant. Not that he didn’t understand the stages of pregnancy, or y’know, conception— he just wasn’t sure when exactly Miku started showing signs. What could he have missed? Are his observation skills so low that he can’t even distinguish Miku’s dislike for his new food experiment from actual morning sickness?

While he was contemplating the past few weeks, Miku was talking to her mother about doctor’s appointments and what their next steps might be.

“I did a home pregnancy test last Sunday,” Miku says, her tone steady and sure. From his position at the kitchen, Tatsu’s ears perked up at the prospect of hearing more details. He dialed down the faucet to hear a bit more clearly, albeit not forgetting to scrub the plates twice and set the glasses aside gently.

“Kā-san , home pregnancy tests have improved, and I didn’t just buy from a convenience store,” she starts abruptly, no doubt trying to convince her mom. “I definitely missed my period and I’ve been nauseous all week—well, that and I’ve been more tired recently.”

Was that why Miku’s been going home early for the past few days?

“Yes, I just told him. He’s in the kitchen right now.” With the sudden change in subject, Tatsu works double-time in drying the dishes and clearing the counter. Most likely her mom would want to talk to him also. “No, not yet. We could try Teramoto-hakase’s clinic downtown. I will, yes, I’ll remember to do that.”

Tatsu mentally notes the task of calling Teramoto-hakase’s clinic first thing tomorrow, but loses focus when he hears someone calling his name.

“Tacchan?”

Alerted by Miku’s voice, he looks up and sees her peeking from the corner, telephone in hand. Stopping in the middle of scrubbing the already-sparkling dining table, he fluidly crosses the room in three steps and stands by Miku, almost statuesque in his apron and aviators.

Me? He asks, mouthing the words. She nods, whispering, “It’s my dad.”

Tatsu’s mirth doesn’t diminish but a subtle nervousness suddenly appears. He politely clears his throat before greeting his father-in-law. “Hello, this is Tatsu, good evening otou-san.”

His father-in-law asks how he’s been and casually asks for any updates from their part of the town. Just as Tatsu was in the middle of sharing a story about their indoor plants, his father-in-law announces, “I heard that Miku has been leaving work early.”

“Yes, she has,” not missing a beat, Tatsu shares that they have been resting for most of the weekend and that other than the vomiting episode this morning, Miku’s condition is mostly well.

“Vomiting?” his father-in-law sits ramrod straight, shooting a glance at his wife who shakes her head in feigned confusion. “Is she alright now? Minako said—”

Does otou-san not yet know that she’s pregnant?

Tatsu immediately looks at Miku for confirmation. She nods once, confident with her husband’s ability to read people’s expressions. He sniffs, “Hai! Miku’s pregnant!”

Across the room, their cat Gin, stops mid-chase, listening with rapt attention. Even the cockroach attempting a heist on Miku’s Crimewatch Pricure collection is momentarily distracted.

Meanwhile, Miku’s face crumples in confusion. Tatsu contemplates learning sign language.

“Miku is pregnant?" his father-in-law asks a second time before Tatsu registers the question.

"Yes, she tested with a home pregnancy kit; apparently they have improved greatly since—" he tries to redeem what little control of the conversation he had to begin with. But his father-in-law bursts into excitement and all semblance of cool disappears in an instant.

"... A grandkid?" he asks after a while. He doesn't wait for Tatsu to say anything. "My, you're going to be a father! Minako, we're going to be grandparents!"

Tatsu hears his mother-in-law's muffled laughter and jumps to imagining the couple spending time with their granddaughter— or grandson, grandkid?

“This is great news, Tatsu!” his voice was beaming with joy, already excited for this new chapter to unfold. “Have you made an appointment with the doctor?”

“No, not yet, Miku and I will try for a walk-in appointment at Teramoto-hakase’s clinic tomorrow.”

“Try in the afternoon, Teramoto’s usually more keen to accept walk-ins by then,” he suggests, remembering that the clinic’s morning schedule is usually full. “How is she?”

“She’s good. Actually, she...” Tatsu stops, noticing Miku brewing a cup of tea for herself. He observes for a moment, the slow slant of her arm and her unusually placid expression. Silently, she heads over the kitchen island and pours another cup of tea. She places it on his spot across the table and returns to nursing her cup. “She’s great.”

“Drinking tea right now, actually. We usually do that at this hour, you see.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” his father-in-law hums, curious. “Minako and I should probably be having our afternoon tea as well.”

His father-in-law briefs him a bit for their antenatal appointment, and reminds him to always watch over Miku. After exchanging words of encouragement and gratitude, his father-in-law hangs up and Tatsu stands still by the doorframe, looking at the steaming cup of tea.

Later that night, as they were both getting ready to sleep, Tatsu decides to stay at the boundary of their futon. He smoothly plops into a kneeling posture, making sure that his Pricure pajamas aren’t wrinkled in the process.

He calls her name. Miku hums in question, not looking at him as she fluffs up their pillows. “Miku,” he says with a little more weight.

Turning to face him, she smiles at their matching nightclothes but feels sudden concern at his unreadable facial expression. She leans her body a bit closer to him, prompting him with an expectant look. “Tatsu..?”

“Miku! I’ll take care of you!” he drops his head to the floor in a soft thud, spine gracefully bent in a seated bow. She doesn’t respond immediately, already used to Tatsu’s sporadic (and often expressive) displays of endearment.

He steals a glance at Miku and is relieved to see her gaze soften. He moves to his spot, and sits cross-legged. Still with the look of someone who could be talking about the weather, he professes, “Though I have yet to master the way of the house husband… I will do my best to be a good father.”

Her smile comes naturally. Tacchan, “You’re going to be a great father.”

[mocacheezy]

Good news about kitty!

Her stomach and bladder problems are probably because of the usual kitten problems (no idea if "worms" is the correct translation, but it's that thing that all kittens get). She also cleaned her ears, saying it looks like the regular earwax buildup and should be fine, and also gave her an antibiotic after the worms-be-gone pill.

We're also going to talk about her sterilization, since she'll be 6 months old next month, si all in all, things look worse than they are, and the little gremlin is going to be okay. ✨✨✨✨

(Extra visit ramble below because first time vet appointment and I am a rambler)

Okay so, she was actually inside of the carrier about an hour before we had to leave, but then she got the nyoomies. Got inside with no fuss once she saw that TheDoorShallOpen, which usually means Harness time and walkies.

It was loud, because city in the morning is loud and the traffic is crazy, so she was spooked. Didn't wail though, and calmed down during the times I talked to her for a bit with her tiny meows as per usual when she's spooked. Bus came, the ride was bumpy, and after those 15mins or so we arrived and went inside the clinic. I expected the vet to be the older woman that answered the phone yesterday, but it was the younger of the two.

So we come into the room and, Pikica being Pikica, calmly and curiously gets out of the carrier herself and starts sniffling around the examination table, lets the lady touch her, doesn't fight the check up and is more curious about everything.

She gets weighted and again, tries to jump off that table because ✨exploring✨

She got her ears cleaned with a liquid solution and only did the kind of play/warning bites she does. The "Stop this, I don't like it" kind of bite where she just holds the hand with her teeth but doesn't bite down yet. She does it when she has enough of being petted but wants to be in the lap still.

So the ears are cleaned and Pikica is, as one would be, not in a very good mood. But oh welp, she is small and she does look friendly, and the fuss during the cleaning wasn't THAT bad... But then came the pill.

And she did not like the pill. So she had to go into a burrito.

The burrito did not contain the spawn of the Peace Destroyer. (or, as her mom's actual, non-translated name is, Kazimira)

The older vet had to come in and help. Double burrito, held by the scruff of her neck and STILL Pikica was a challenge.

I didn't think she'd be such a fighter but she was.

And then came the antibiotic shot. And THAT was another fight, but over relatively soon. I got the instructions on what to do, and came to the waiting room so I could pay the bill.

Three small/middle sized dogs. Pikica hissed exactly ince, but calmed down since the dogs weren't interested (and also nothing like the big dog my neighbours have. Very pretty and VERY playful that one).

It's my turn and the bill was surprisingly not as high as I though it'd be? Like, 28€ with the medications included?? That was a relief!

Especially because depending on the information I give tommorow during the call, I might need to come over there again. So the visit + bus pass refill for both ways + whatever I need to get for her is also gonna be taken into account.

But anyways, we get home (had to ring the appartment owner because I forgot my keys in my rush to the vet), and I open the carrier.

The little lady walks out, sniffs around a bit, circles back and starts smelling the carrier and the latches on top.

I had to go to the store to get the cat litter and food + finally bought her toys to chew since she's a tiny lil monster when it comes to playtime and loves to be rough.

So I am expecting that after her extended nap (that the little demon also made me take with her) she will be playing with these... And finally carry them around without a plastic stick smacking everything behond her kije the old toy did XD

[dreamyjoons]

catnapped // knj

⇢ sometimes pets know better. But you and Namjoon have never been good at accepting the truth, no matter where it comes from.

Genre/warnings: fluff, smut! a lil angst. neighbours!au, unprotected sex (be safe!), some dirty talk, a curse word or two.

Words: 8.2k

A/N: quick dumb (and mostly unedited lmao sorry) fic for Namjoon’s birthday! Keep your eyes out for more Joon content in the run up to Halloween 👀 enjoy!

“Phoebe! Stop barking or I’m calling you ‘Pee Pee’ again.”

Despite your intimidating threat, your dog wouldn’t stop. Rolling your eyes, you push up off your couch and walk to the pup, big brown eyes fixed on the window and her tail wagging like crazy.

You follow her line of vision, only to see a raggedy cat sitting on the window ledge outside. You’d seen it around before, often sitting on your ground-floor window to tease your dog. It was a scruffy looking thing, long hair sticking out in every direction, beady amber eyes glued to Phoebe. Even though it didn’t seem underweight it did look like a stray, and you didn’t want to stress it out any more.

You step in front of your dog and crack the window, just enough to squeeze your arm out.

“Hey little one, my girl isn’t gonna stop with your sitting there, so- hey!”

The cat ducks from your touch and darts in through your window. You struggle your arm back through the gap, ready to lift your dog away, but what you saw made you falter.

Phoebe’s tail was wagging, her little butt shaking with excitement as the the cat walked around her, brushing it’s head and tail against her.

“Oh.” Is all you could say, watching as they both sit together in the stream of sunlight that funnels past you.

Phoebe lays down first, the cat settling beside her, tail flickered over, slumped against your dog.

“Make yourself at home, I guess.” You sidestep away, eyes glued to the animals as you perch back on the couch.

You can’t drag your eyes away, waiting for the other shoe to drop and your dog to get a taste for kitty. But it doesn’t happen. They sit, joined at the hip as if they had been friends for years, eyes closing in the morning sun.

It didn’t look like it had a collar, and you realise you don’t even know it’s gender-

Until it sits up to aggressively lick itself, lifting its leg in the air and you realise the cat is male.

You drag your eyes away to give him some privacy, and settle to make yourself comfy. However a quick glance at the clock on your phone had you springing to your feet with a strangled cry, sprinting to get ready for work.

Hastily dressed and wiping toothpaste from the corner of your mouth, you refill Phoebe’s water bowl, stoop to give her a kiss and the cat a scratch behind his ear. You pull on your shoes, grab your bag and bolt for the door - if you were fast enough you would just make it in time.

Slamming it behind you and rummaging through your bag, you manage to crash into a body in the hallway.

“ I’m so sor- oh, it’s you.”

“Charming as ever, Y/N.”

You glare at Namjoon as he shrugs his jacket on over his blue vet scrubs. You raise an eyebrow at that, you mouth four steps ahead of your brain.

“Why are you wearing scrubs? Aren’t you a philosophy… thing?”

“Professor-“

“Whatever.”

“I volunteer at the vet clinic on my off days.” He finishes, hand slipping into his pockets as he looks at you.

You roll your eyes. A teacher and an animal lover? It’s like he was trying too hard to be a heartthrob. It made you want to throw up a little bit.

He runs a hand through his messy hair before pulling on his beanie. You watch the motion, remembering how his hands had once brushed through your-

Stamping that line of thought firmly from your brain, you turn from him and make your way out of the building block, heat bursting across your face. You push all thoughts of that aside and instead simmer on the fact that he just had to move into your apartment block. Of all the ones in the city!

“Hey, it’s not like I chose to live here knowing you were here too.” He sighs, and you turn back to him, horror on your face as you realise you said that aloud. He strides forward to walk alongside you, a faint scent of mint washing over.

“Why did you chose here though? I’d think there would be better places for a teacher-vet-know it all extraordinare to live.” You snap, although you wince at the harshness of your words.

“Because my salary is low for a starter and I volunteer, this is all I can afford.” He sighs, a sharp stab of guilt hitting you. You get to the door and he holds it open for you, and you murmur your thanks before walking through.

“Oh, sorry.” You squeak out, but he shrugs, turning a playful grin on you.

“It’s fine. Is there anything else you want to know? I’m a Virgo, I read four books at a time, I’ve seen you nak-”

“Nope, goodbye! Have a shitty day!” You shout, pulling your car keys from you bag and running to where your car sat. You could hear him chuckling behind you, but you ignored him. Asshole.

You get inside, belt up and turn on your car, but your eyes instinctively flick to Namjoon, unlocking his bike from the bike shed that came with your building. You watch as he throws his leg over the vehicle and pushes off. With a hot sigh, you pull out of the parking lot, temptation trickling through you to just knock him on the bike. Only a little bit.

-- --

The next few days pass easily. There was no Namjoon to taint your existence, you didn’t have work and you pup had found a new best friend and now wasn’t trying to tear all your shoes apart.

The cat was coming over to your place every day, climbing through the cracked window. You’d decided to leave it open so the cat could come and go as he wanted. If he needed a place to stay, you weren’t going to shut him out.

Peculiarly, the cat had taken a liking to one of Phoebe’s favourite chew things - a random slipper she had found somewhere. You’d come home from work one day and your dog had mysteriously found a slipper and could not be parted with it, no matter how long you chased her for it. After greeting your dog, the cat would sniff the slipper a little, rub his head on it and them continue on as normal. At first you were slightly perturbed, but soon you simply stopped noticing.

You even had bought a bag of cat food and a small bowl, and in a fleeting moment wondered if you should take it to the vet to get it checked for any owners. But you simply never did, letting the cat do as it pleased.

You were on your way back from the store with said pet food when you spotted the cat outside your complex. You laid down your bags and held your hand out, cooing at him whilst he lazily accepted your pets.

Once cat decided he’d had enough he stretched and walked off, slinking around the corner and out of sight.

“Hey, come back you little toe!”

“Who are you talking to?”

You turn and look behind you, only to be met with a crotch. You pan up, cheeks hot, to see Namjoon staring down at you. Gulping, you push to your feet and brush yourself off.

“A cat.” You say simply, walking back to your shopping and scooping the bags up. “Bye.”

You begin to walk away, but the cat food slips out of your grasp. You groan, but turn to scoop it up. Namjoon beats you to it, plucking it off the floor and holds it under his arm before sliding a bag from your grip.

“What are you doing?” You ask, sharp eyes watching his every move.

“Helping you, obviously.”

“I can see that. Why?”

“Because you were struggling…? Look, I know you still don’t like me, but school was a while ago now. Can’t we be civil?” His voice is low and imploring, his bright eyes piercing your soul.

You clear your throat, fighting to keep your temper down. You couldn’t say what was on your mind - not really.

“I was lucky to get my degree with the way you wouldn’t shut up during lectures.”

“I had questions!”

“Not every three minutes! Our professors could barely get through their slides, Joonie.”

The slip of his nickname makes his eyes wide, and you slam your mouth shut. A softness descents over him, fingers twitching as if he wants to reach out to you.

“Namjoon. I mean Namjoon.” The words feel blunt leaving you. Too sharp.

“Y/N-“

“Let’s just go.”

You turn and head into your building complex, Namjoon on your trail. Memories of him back when you studied together, your rivalry to be top of the class, the drunken night you’d shared.

Finally reaching your door, he plants your things down beside you and hovers awkwardly, large hands shoved in his pockets. Ignoring him, you slide your key into your lock, letting your door slide open. You push all your items inside before reluctantly turning to Namjoon.

“Well… thanks.” You say, a forced smile on your face.

He smiles back at you, and it nearly winds you. His dimple pops, warm smile spreading across his face. His eyes are squished but bright, solely focused on you.

You shake the starstruck hold from your brain, give him a small wave and disappear into your apartment. You press yourself back against the door, heart thumping.

The sound of him walking away is barely audible about the thundering in your ears.

This was stupid. It was only Namjoon. Sure, you’d thought he was hot in college. And just maybe he was still hot now. But he was also a know-it-all, and after your night together, he left you. You didn’t need that in your life.

You gather up your groceries and put it all away before making a small bowl of cat food and placing it down by Phoebe’s bowl.

The cat food turned out to be a success, as over the next couple of days the cat would come in and demolish his food next to Phoebe, the pair happily eating together before moving off to take a nap. Often they would end up on your bed.

That’s where you found Phoebe, belly up on your bed. You smile as you join her, curling up on the other side just to watch her. But soon you feel yourself drifting off, the faintest image of Namjoon lingering in your mind.

— —

A crash startles you awake from your nap, adrenaline pumping itself through your veins. Its was still light as you heading into early evening, the air crisp.

Looking around your room, you realise that Phoebe wasn’t with you. Assuming it to be her, you slip off your bed but pocket your phone just in case.

Grabbing a boot and brandishing it as a weapon, you move silently through the house to where the crashing was coming from. You take a deep breath, ignoring the thudding in your chest.

Poking your head around to your living room, you see the cat jumping headlong into your furniture before falling and spacing out on your floor.

You drop the boot as you watch the cat get to its feet and gallop into the back of your couch. He splays out, rolling onto his back and laying deathly still.

Phoebe runs to stand begins you, a confused yap bursting from her.

Panic floods through you as you run and drop to the cat’s side, only for it to look at you with spacey eyes.

You scoop him up in your arms, and groaning aloud, you grab your keys and dart out of your apartment.

“I’ll be two minutes baby!” You shout at Phoebe before you shut the door, running the few feet to get to the door across the hall.

You pound on the door, eyes flicking down to the cat who was barely moving. You hit the door again, only for it to fly open.

Namjoon stares at you, eyes darting down to the cat in your arms and back up to your panicked face.

“Y/N, what-“

“I don’t know what happened, but this cat was just going scatty in my apartment and running into things and it’s worrying me - he’s normally so chill. I thought because you volunteer at the vets-“

Face contorted in concern, he slips the cat from your arms and cradles it to his chest, stroking its head before checking him over. He turns and walks into his apartment, and you awkwardly follow.

With your haste you failed to realise that he was just standing in a pair of track pants and little else, his hair damp. You try and keep your eyes away, avoiding his back and the way drops of water from his hair trail down the planes of his back.

“Oh, it’s fine.”

“What?”

Namjoon turns back to you, tension dropping from him as he scratches under the cat’s chin. You forcefully ignore the way your chest seizes at the view, eyes fixing on his face.

“He’s fine. Homer here has managed to find himself a supply of catnip. He’s be alright in twenty or so.” He smiles at you, the cat’s tail flicking gently up his arm.

“Homer… catnip?” You ask, confused.

“This is Homer. My cat. Did you say he was in your apartment?”

“Your cat?!”

“Yep.” He turns and walks away, stooping to put the cat in a large cat pillow that sat under his window.

“I thought it was a stray.” You feel heat rush to your face at your words, but Namjoon simply laughs.

“I know, he looks scruffy as hell. But he’s perfectly healthy - we just can’t seem to tame his frizz.”

“Oh…”

“So is he the reason why you bought cat food the other day?” He asks, laughter dancing in his eyes.

You nod, a slight tinge of embarrassment creeping into your system. He walks back towards you, stopping just a few feet away.

“Thank you for looking out for him. I’m glad he’s going somewhere safe.” A soft smile slips on his face, warm and inviting. Your eyes dance across him, broad chest, dimple and all.

“So, uh… Homer? As in Simpson?” You ask, eyes snapping back up to his. If he noticed you staring, he doesn't show it.

“No! As in the Odyssey and the Greek writer Homer.” His eyebrows shoot up, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Right, so instead of a slight nerd, you’re a huge nerd.” You smirk, and there’s a small flip of delight in your stomach when he laughs, tucking his head into his chest.

“Yeah, well, the cat’s never complained.”

You both stand smiling, a ghost of something lingering around you. You feel the words hovering on the tip of his tongue, an answer to a question you wanted to know for a long time.

He can feel it too, you know it. He drags a lip in between his teeth, and you can practically see the thoughts brewing inside his mind. This was it, when you’d finally get your answer.

You move to speak but you’re cut off from a mangled cry of Homer the cat, wrestling around on his cat bed. Namjoon looks away, spell broken as he crosses his arms, almost self-consciously. Your eyes watch the movement, a hunger simmering deep down.

“I should probably-“

“Yeah you should check on him.”

You step back, only to walk into his door. He moves forward to see if you’re okay but you spin, yanking open his door and stepping out.

He walks to the door and waves you off, a slither of toned skin visible through the crack in the door. You snap your head away and power walk to your door, blowing out a steadying breath.

Once you’re safely in your apartment, you throw yourself on the sofa, Namjoon’s borad expanse of skin burnt into your brain, just as it had before.

The exhaustion of your day and the worry about Homer hadn’t helped your swirling mind. A small yap comes from nearby, followed by a cluster of paw and claws as Phoebe clambers onto you to sit on your chest.

You scratch her head between her ears, listening as her breaths get deeper and she begins to drift off.

“What am I gonna do, Phoebs?” You sigh, letting your mind wander back to Namjoon.

There’s so much about him that you wanted to let in. Sensitive, considerate, sweet, takes your snappy banter on the chin. But you felt like there was something else. You knew there was. After you had a drunken night together after college, you thought you saw somebody different. Maybe not.

You wake up the following morning in the same position on the sofa, a banging echoing from somewhere far off. Phoebe had wormed her way down awkwardly between your legs, and you knew as soon as you moved that your back was going to scream in discomfort.

The banging filtered into knocking in your sleep-addled brain, and groggily you got to your feet, your body stiff and aching. You were careful not to wake your pup and crept to the door.

You swing open to see Namjoon, standing awkwardly with something inside his coat. He looked flustered: his beanie was sitting slanted on his head, pushing his ears forward, his cheeks were reddened and his smile was sheepish.

“Uh, hey?” You croak, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” He asks quietly. A small smile slips onto your face, totally endeared by his softness.

“No, what’s wrong?”

“I er, I got you these...” he pulls his hand back from his coat, a small bundle of purple flowers wrapped with a piece of twine in his hand. You’re floored, the small purple bundle and the hopeful look in his eyes make your throat close up.

“W-what?” You stumble, reaching out to take the flowers from his shaky grip.

“I wanted to say thank you for looking out for my bab- Homer, I mean Homer. My Homer, the cat.” He fumbles over his words, his cheeks getting pinker the more he talks.

“Oh wow, thank you.”

“I remember you saying that you liked purple flowers.” He shrugs, but you can see his hands awkwardly fiddling with the edges of his coat.

“I said that… back in college?” Your eyebrows crease as you look at him, and he tries to hide his face in the folds of his coat collar.

“I guess I just remembered it.”

The warmth in your chest spreads, and you snap your eyes up to meet his. You feel yourself falling all over again - you do every time you see him.

Which was increasingly regularly since he moved into the apartment across the hall. You could avoid him easily when you wanted to, but when he looks at you that way, you forget why you don’t want to see him.

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re cut off by a yapping and a crash from inside the house.

“I gotta go-“

“Yeah, no yeah. Sure.” Namjoon stumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and stepping back, his eyes still on you.

“Thank you.” You say in a small voice, waving the flowers. He beams at you, and after basking in it for just a moment, you force yourself to close the door.

You walk into the lounge to see Phoebe standing on the sofa, slipper in her mouth. You walked forward to ask what’s wrong when she darts past you, jumping and scratching at the door.

Confused, you gently lay the flowers on your table before going and scooping up your dog. She lets out a defeated whine in your arms, letting the slipper fall from your grasp.

“Come on you weirdo, let’s take you out.”

— —

Work had been a bitch.

There was no simpler way to put it. Your boss channeled all their issues at you, extended your shift and managed to spill their coffee down your pants.

But when you saw Homer relaxing in the evening light out in front of your complex, tail flicking and squinting wistfully in the fading light, you felt your tension start to slip. His greying hair poked out in awkward directions, but he was carefree, making a smile slip onto your face.

“Hey little man.” You coo, squatting in front of him.

He gets lazily to his feet and stretches before climbing up into your lap, rubbing against your stomach. You hold in an excited squeal, simply channeling your excitement into delivering the best pets ever.

“He’s such a little attention seeker.”

You turn to see Namjoon standing behind you, vet scrubs on under a huge earthy jacket. Homer jumps from your lap to deliver Namjoon a small meow before disappearing into the street behind you.

“He’s a cutie.”

You push to your feet and walk to the door of the building, stopping to hold the door for him. He jogs to catch up, giving you a thankful smile. You walk in a comfortable silence occasionally side-eying each other. You stop where your paths diverge, the want to talk to him after your long day immense - but he beats you to it.

“Homer seems to like you. He’s not very friendly with people that aren't me.” He grins, turning to face you. You shrug, but you can’t help the smug satisfaction that seeps into your features.

“The boy’s got good taste.”

Namjoon laughs, a light tinkling sound that rocks you right to your core. You feel the smile grow on your face, the need to drag more giggles out of him rooting itself into your soul.

The evening light filters in through the tiny windows of your lobby, basking his skin in a glorious honey glow. His chocolate hair looks golden, sticking out awkwardly. You knew it was because he ran his hands through it when he concentrates- you remembered so many little intimacies about him from college. They were buried in the back of your mind, squirrelled away and saved for your darker day.

He looked like a painting, softened and divine, his eyes following your every move. It was intoxicating.

“Oh, he’s covered you in hair. Here…”

He steps forward and starts to pick some of the fluff off of your stomach, and you look down to see yourself covered in long grey and black hairs. He’s so close you can hear him breathing, the scent of his mint body wash drifting to your senses. His hands move fast yet so gently, tugging strands from the fabric of your shirt.

You lift your face, only to find his mere inches from you. His face is scrunched as he concentrates, completely unaware of how fast your heart is beating. You swallow thickly, and it seems to snap his attention to you as he turns his eyes on yours, expression softening as he searches your face. He was honey and gold in front of your eyes, all for you to explore.

You press your lips against his in an instant, want and desperation flooding your veins. He kisses you back, spreading his fingers over your lower back, dragging you against him. His lips are soft on yours, gentle and coaxing, inviting you to get lost with him.

You let him fill your senses, you mind, your soul. The way he holds you against his chest made all the past hurt start to slip away.

But then it slams into the front of your brain - the last time you’d let him in like this.

You pull back from the kiss, eyes wide as you stare up at him, lips tingling. His tender smile begins to slip when he sees the storm in your eyes.

“Y/N?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry-“

“Why?”

“Because the last time this happened I woke up and you were gone, Joonie- no, Namjoon!”

You pull away from him, hating how wrong it felt for his fingers to be dragged from you. You step back into your door, scrambling behind you to get it open.

“Please, wait! There's been a misunders-“

You didn’t want to take your eyes off him, but you needed to leave. The door to your apartment swings open and you dart inside, a heavy weight on your chest dragging you down as you slam it behind you.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft as he knocks on your door.

You just know what he looks like. Mouth drawn to the side, eyebrows creased and the stars shattered in his eyes. He was an open book to you, and that hurt you more than it should.

“Please.”

You slide down the door, palms pressed to your eyes, bathing you in darkness. You don’t know how long you sit there, flushing the pain from your system.

You’d let yourself slip again.

This had happened before with Namjoon. You’d let him get close.

It had been a graduation party. There was alcohol, dancing, an accumulation of something that had been building between you for at least a year. He’d kissed you first - typical him, wanting to get ahead.

You jumped in to it anyway, your heart finally getting what it so desperately craved. You’d both stumbled back to his apartment, sloppily, drunkenly, tenderly spent the night in each others arms, a prospective hope settling in your bones. Hands and mouths, gentle kisses between rougher movements. It was damn near perfect.

But the next morning you’d woken up in his bed, no Namjoon, no explanation, nothing. You shot out of there, limping home to lick your wounds. You’d hoped that would be the end of the Namjoon saga, that you could get on with your life. But here you were, Namjoon moving into the apartment across from you five months ago - and a daily reminder of what had happened.

He’d tried to get in contact at first, but your pride was too sounded to hear him out and he stopped. It was some cruel twist of fate that he should move so close to you, and try as you might to stay mad at him, he’d do something so soft or flash you a tender smile and you’d forget everything.

But that was how you’d ended up here again. You wouldn’t get hurt a second time.

A small warmth pressed itself under your elbow, nuzzling it’s way under your arm.

You snap out of your spiral and look down at Phoebe, heart melting at her huge eyes. You scoop her into your arms and cuddle her close.

After what felt like an eternity, you get off the floor, pup in your arms, and walk through to your bedroom - but not before picking up the purple flowers from your counter and dropping them in the trash.

— —

You’d shut the window.

You knew it was unfair to take it out on the cat. Homer had done nothing wrong. But to be reminded of Namjoon at every turn, the memories of the cat at home against his bare chest… it was too much.

Phoebe had caught wind of the change too, and spent a lot of her day sulking in her bed and staring at you with big, pitiful eyes.

The cat food and bowl had been stuffed in a far away cupboard, out of sight and out of mind.

The days ticked by, your heart and mind a hardened shell. You had refused to let yourself feel anything. Before you had been too sensitive, and you weren’t going to repeat that again.

You sat on the rim of your bath and watched the water run, steam billowing out of your poorly ventilated bathroom and down the hallway.

You had zoned out, watching as the bubbles got dragged under as the hot water jetted into the tub.

With a quick glance down the hallway, you realise the steam had filled your apartment. Without thinking, you jog to the window and open it just a crack, letting some of the air slip outside and dissipate.

“Behave yourself.” You tell Phoebe, who still had the slightest smudge of peanut butter on her nose.

You’d tried coaxing her off the bed with some of her favourite treat, but it had proved fruitless, so you gave in and dropped her some peanut butter anyway.

Undressing and sinking into the water, you try and force your mind clear of everything. You had only been in the bath for fifteen minutes or so when you heard a loud clattering. Initially you wanted to ignore it, but the tug in your gut propelled you from the bath, robe thrown over yourself as you stride out to the living room.

“Phoebe?”

You scan the room, noting that she wasn’t in her bed. Anxiety taking grip, you search your apartment for her, getting more and more frantic with every minute. You looked under furniture, your closet, your bed, you even began opening cupboards.

The whole apartment searched, you stumble back into the living room, only to zone in your window - it had been pushed open wide, a gap big enough for Phoebe to fit through.

“No!” You shout, grabbing your keys and darting from your apartment.

You sprint out onto the street, eyes scanning the roads and pavements for your dog. Following the path round from your window, you found no trace of her. You couldn’t see or hear her anywhere, and with panic flooding you, tears begin to brim in your eyes. The accumulation of unfelt feeling starts to overflow, the built-up stress and hurt too much as tears made heavy tracks down your face. But despite the pain, you knew you needed help if you were gonna find your pup.

Pushing your bubbling hurt to the side, you dart back into the building and pound on Namjoon’s door. You banged incessantly until the door opened, a hollow feeling in your chest.

His annoyed expression at the banging morphed into shock when he sees you, panic in you face and short white dressing gown wrapped around you, silent tears tracking down your face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice low and worried.

“My dog, I can’t find her, she’s not in my apartment!”

“Your dog?”

“Yes! She got out my window and I don’t know where she’s gone!”

“... is she a puppy? Big eyes, dark fur, has a thing for slippers?”

You feel your heart grind to a stop as you gawp at him, pulse thudding loudly in your ears.

He simply gestures for you to follow him before turning and walking away. You follow on quickly, shutting his door behind you and running to catch up with him. He stops by his window and points to his cat’s bed, relief flooding through your body.

There on the large cat bed lays Phoebe, wrapped up and asleep with Homer.

You rush forward and scoop her up, cradling her into your chest. She sleepily licks at your chin as Homer gets to his feet, rubbing against your bare calves.

“How did she get here?” You ask, voiced choked and uneven.

“Through my window. I heard this huge crash and came to see them on the bed together. It’s been a while since she was last here, I forget how much noise she made.”

“Last time?! Is she here a lot?”

You stare down at the dog, betrayal and concern tingling in your mind.

“Yeah, I had to get a bigger cat bed for her and Homer - they kept bickering over it.”

“Did you know she was my dog?”

“No- i just thought some random dog needed a place to stay.” He shrugs, blush creeping across his face at your incredulous stare.

You look down at the dog bed a see a partially chewed slipper - identical to the one that turned up in your apartment. Letting Phoebe go, you plant her in the bed before picking up the slipper, brandishing it at Namjoon.

“Have you lost the other one to this?”

“Yes…?”

“It’s in my apartment. I guess that explains why Homer’s been all over it.”

You turn and look at the traitorous animals, both amused and annoyed at their antics. Your animals had truly played you.

“Look, sit down and have some water. You need to destress.”

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and steers you to his couch. He shuffles off to the kitchen, and you become hyper aware of how you're only wearing your bathrobe. You shuffle the material to cover yourself a little more modestly as he walks back, holding a glass out to you.

You thank him and take a sip, eyes darting to your dog, who was now curled up with Homer again.

“What are we gonna do about them?”

“Well I don’t see how we can stop them - they always seem to find a way back to each other.”

You try not to read too deeply into his words, not wanting to apply them with what you had. But you look at him, soft and concerned, and you can’t help but fall into that spiral.

“I should go-“

“Y/N-“

“Thanks for looking after my dog.”

You get to your feet and hurry over to Phoebe, but she darts away from you, sprinting around the apartment and avoiding your grip.

Namjoon tries to head her off, but she springs out of the way, her and Homer escaping towards Namjoon’s bedroom.

“Looks like she doesn’t want to be separated.”

“Well tough, we have to go.”

“You don’t-”

“I do Namjoon.” You try to be assertive, but your voice cracks. You had to leave, you couldn’t be here any longer.

“You don’t, I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

“It’s too late for that. “

He stares at you, chest heaving as he takes in steadying breaths. He steps close to you, reaching out to hold your hand in his. You want to pull away from his touch but you don’t, letting his fingers entwine with yours, large thumbs soothing over your knuckles.

“I’ve hurt you?” His voice is quiet and broken, shock filling his face.

So it would finally happen. You’d get answers. But the prospect scared you - what if he left because he didn’t want you the way you wanted him? You swallow thickly, carefully arranging the words in your head.

“After our night together at the graduation party.”

“I remember, but you left me.”

Your mouth drops, hurt and anger bubbling up inside you. You ignore the vulnerability in his voice, or the way his fingers feel laced with yours.

“I was the one that woke up alone in that bed, Namjoon. Not you.”

“I went out to get us some coffee as my apartment was empty. I thought you’d still be asleep when I got back, but you were gone.”

“What?”

Your eyes widen, fixed on his face, searching for a hint of a lie. Anything to validate what you had been feeling ever since that night. He turns his head away, cheeks reddening as he takes a deep breath.

“I know, it sounds stupid. But I’d been trying all year to get your attention. And I finally had you in my arms, but you were gone hours later.”

“I didn’t know…”

“I know that now… I tried to move on, but I moved here and began seeing your face everywhere like some cruel cosmic joke. And you didn’t want to talk, so I had to harden up.”

“Joonie…”

His eyes snap back to you, the nickname you’d always called him in the more tender moments of your relationship. A fire grows in his eyes, his fingers electric in your touch.

He pulls you to him and crashes his lips onto yours, free hand reaching up to cup your face. He kisses you like a man starved, like he’d lose you if you let go.

You feel your heart soar in your chest, a giddy relief washing over you. Although there was a tinge of guilt gnawing at you both misunderstanding each other for so long, there was a sense of hope tingling in your veins.

“I’m sorry…”

He murmurs, planting soft kisses on your cheek and lips.

“I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“I’m sorry too, if I’d have known…” you whisper, knotting your hands in his shirt.

He backs you into a wall, mouth back on yours. Finally detaching from your fingers, he snakes his hand to grab your ass, cupping it and holding you against him.

The kiss deepens, and you knot your fingers in his hair and pull him closer, rolling your hips at him.

He growls into your kiss, and finally, finally you were both heading somewhere good-

A loud bark echoes out from beside you, and you and Namjoon break apart to stare at the offending noise maker.

Phoebe sits beside Homer and stares at you, little tail wagging. You stare at her, making a mental note to give her a nice dollop of peanut butter later.

“Maybe we should move this somewhere more private.” Namjoon whispers, hopeful that the pets wouldn’t hear.

You nod, and grabbing you by the hand, he pulls you down the hallway towards his bedroom. He closes the door behind you, but not before the pets manage to dart in.

“Uh…”

Namjoon tries to usher them out, but they excitedly slip between his hands. It was almost comical, watching him chase your pets, but it made you heart flutter in your chest. It was something you could watch unabashedly forever.

“You know what, you win.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you towards his closet, shutting you both inside the tight space. He stumbles over boots and pushes the clothes down on the rail, making space to cage you in against the wall.

“Namjoon, what-“

“They can’t hear or see us in here. I know because once I thought Homer was missing for a whole day but he was just asleep in here and couldn’t hear me.” He beams at you, and you don’t know whether to be shocked or amused.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind…”

“What’s the matter?” He asks, letting his hands trail across your body and gently begin to unknot your robe. “Don’t think I can make you feel good anywhere?”

You balk at his words, but your body heats up at his confidence.

“Not a closet.”

He smirks, tipping your chin to face him as he kisses you, soft and slow.

You feel his hands tug at yours robe, finally freeing the knot and sliding it off your body. He pulls back looks down at you, a dark look in his eyes.

He slides his hands over your hips, tracing his fingertips across your skin until he reaches your slit. You gasp at the contact, but widen your legs to give him easier access. He smirks, moving in to kiss you.

Once you’d fallen into the kiss, his finger traces lightly over your clit making you gasp against his lips. His touch is feather-light at first, barely giving you enough friction but too good to stop.

His mouth begins to move across your jaw, kissing his way down your neck and across your shoulders. A moan slips out of you, and you can feel him smirk into your skin.

Finally, he begins to add some pressure, his fingers moving in slow circles over your clit. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingers getting lost in the fabric as you let him work you up.

“Feel good?” He whispers into your neck, a shiver running down you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His finger runs down your slit to gather some of your pooling wetness on it before gliding back over your clit. He presses a harder finger to you, leaving you gasping.

His mouth finally sinks lower, latching onto one of your nipples. He swirls the bud under his tongue, pulling off with a teasing graze of his teeth before he moves onto the other. You suck in a breath, fingers firmly knotted in his shirt.

You feel your hips move under his hand, and he looks up at you with a triumphant glint in his eye as he pulls off your nipple with a pop.

Not one to be outdone, you slide a hand down from his shoulder and let it slip into the waistband of his track pants. You pull them and his boxers just low enough to let his cock spring free, stiffening and slightly curved, begging for attention.

His eyes wide at you as he releases your nipple, bringing his face level with yours.

“You want to play this game?”

“What game, Joonie?” You ask innocently as you let your hand lazily pump up his hard length.

His hips stutter at your touch, a smirk growing on your face. He lets out a shallow laugh, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck just for a second before bringing his face level with yours.

“So you do want to play.”

At his words, he slides his hand down your soaking slit to press a finger at your entrance before slowly, softly pushing the digit inside. He curls his finger inside you, building up from a slow pump until you throw your head back against the wall and whimper. He shifts so that his thumb reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud.

When your vision stops swimming you lock eyes with him, silent challenge accepted.

You gather the precum that leaks out of his tip and watch him shiver at the touch, before spreading it down his length, lubing him up. You then began to lazily twist your hand up his length, watching his eyes haze over.

He surges forward to kiss you, both of your hands working each other higher and higher.

Your kisses turn to moans against each other’s mouth. He slips a second finger inside you, curling against your soft spot. You repay the pleasure, twisting your grip quickly around the head of his cock and watching his eyes flutter with the motion.

His hips thrust into your hands, his forehead creased, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His posture stiffens, his breathing heavier and soon you know it’ll be over for him.

With his free hand he pulls you off his length, pushing your hand back to the wall. He pulls the your other from his shirt and pins your wrists to the wall with one hand.

You whimper at the motion, pinned whilst he pumps his fingers inside of you. Your walls clench down on him, your hips thrusting off the wall and further into his hand.

“Joonie-“

“Cum on me.”

He presses his lips onto yours, and with a few final flicks over your clit you come undone. You gush over his fingers, your orgasm rolling through your body as you whine out his name again and again.

He watches you as you work through it, finally easing off when your body slows, your breath ragged.

“So beautiful.” He smiles, and you blow out a hot breath and laugh.

He presses you both against the wall, kiss searing and needy, large hands gripping all over your body.

“Off.” You groan out, tugging his tee over his head and watching him move away to tug his track pants and boxers off.

He stumbles slightly over a pair of boots, but kicks off his clothes and presses back against you, ghost of a laugh falling from his lips.

“Up.” He commands, tapping the back of your thighs. You raise your eyebrow at him, but he rolls his eyes.

“Jump up, Y/N.”

You do as he says, wrapping your legs around him, the warmth of his skin hot against yours. With his hands supporting your ass, you reach between you and run his cock through your wet folds, watching the goosebumps rise on his skin. You could watch him forever, rolling your hips slightly across his length.

He sucks his breath between his teeth, eyes darting to yours. You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to do something. He bucks at you, the tip of him brushing across your clit and you gasp, realising that enough was enough - you needed him.

Slowly you line him up and begin to let him push inside of you, the slow delicious drag of his cock making your head drop to his shoulder. He lets out a low groan in your ear, holding you both steady when he finally bottoms out.

You stay there for a moment, lips meeting to kiss, slow and soft. But then he pulls back and pushes home, making you moan into him.

He starts a slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of you. His eyes stay glued, transfixed by the way you take his cock in. With a quick clench your walls, he snaps out of his stare and drops his head back, the feeling too good to handle.

His thrusts start getting faster, his grip tight on your ass. Bringing his head back up to yours, he rests in the crook of your neck, hot breaths rolling down your chest.

You take the opportunity to plant kisses and marks along his throat, each thrust causing you to suck a little harder on his skin.

“Too good.. can’t…” he moans, and you try to let out a light laugh, but it’s more of a strangled moan.

He pulls out of you, and you carefully set your feet down on the floor. You feel terribly empty without him inside you, your chest seizing at the thought. But with a quick peck on the lips he spins you round, pressing his chest to your back and pinning you to the wall.

Grabbing both your hands, he laces his fingers with one and holds them above your head. You bring yours cup the other side of his hand, his large fingers soft in your grip. Slowly he slides his free hand down your arm, goosebumps rising along your flesh as he rolls it down your body until finally he lines himself up again.

He’s not as gentle this time, entering you just enough before then slamming home. You gasp beneath him, all you can do is push back your hips to meet him.

The drag of him feels so good inside you. He presses his lips against your ear, his panting filling your senses.

“Feel good baby, you like the way I fill you up?”

You nod, face pulled tight as he slams into you. His hand move over your hips to rub at your clit, circling the sensitive bud deftly. His curved length starts hitting your g-spot, and soon you’re seeing stars.

“So tight… even better than last time, Y/N.” He kisses the shell of your ear.

“Joonie…” you whisper, clenching down on him.

You can feel his hips stuttering, and the thrusts he pounds into your graze your stiff nipples against the cold wall. The sensations crash over you both, and you realise you’re both not gonna last much longer.

“Gonna cum baby, where?” He asks, breathy voice little more than a whisper.

“In me, just cum in me. Implant.” You grunt out, your grip tight on his hands.

“You’d like that, Y/N? Want me to fill you up with my cum?”

His voice has a croak, deep and sensual, and his fingers rub across your clit, rubbing you higher and higher until your body can’t hold back.

Your orgasm crashes through you, a strangled cry of his name leaving you as your walls clench. The pressure catches Namjoon and soon he’s coming too, filling you as he rides out his last few thrusts inside of you. Your throbbing core milks him totally, leaving you positively tingling.

You both still, your breath ragged and head swimming. You angle your head back to smile at him, only for him to beam right back. He moves his hands to grasp your own, bringing your entwined hands down to wrap around your middle, hugging you against him.

He kisses you, lazily and soft, contentment thrumming in your veins. You stay there for just a moment, feeling lighter than you had ever felt.

“We should probably get out of the closet.” He murmurs against your lips and you smile, nodding.

Reluctantly you both separate, gathering your clothes and hastily redressing. With a coy smile and locking your fingers, Namjoon opens the closet door and walks you both out on shaky legs.

On his bed sits Homer and Phoebe, curled up together and waiting expectantly. Phoebe’s tail wags excitably, whilst Homer whickers small meows at you both.

“Alright, I hope you’re both happy. Little traitors.” Namjoon tells them, blush creeping across his face.

You bark out a laugh, and he turns to watch you, dimply smile spreading across your face. You turn your head shyly, but his hand gently grasps your chin and turns you back to face him, thumb grazing across your cheeks.

“Come on,” you smile, pulling out of his hold and tugging Namjoon towards his kitchen. “You owe me that coffee.”

[sparkie96]

Leon how did you meet your cat moching? :)

(How Leon Met Munchie)

Leon didn't have to turn around to know that something...or someone was following him. 

He had been on his way home from a particularly sour day of work, having just gotten back from his mission overseas in the Eastern Slav Republic. Benford and Simmons both had given it to him, very disappointed with him and his actions, despite the outcome. He had disobeyed orders and stayed in the country despite being told to get out of there. He even exposed Svetlana and her involvement with the BOWs and her possession of the Plaga parasite.

But that wasn't the point, according to them. One slip up and he could have been the reason for the country wanting to go to war with America. He put America's interests at risk. Success or no, it would have put their best interests in jeopardy. 

He doubted that. Had something happened, Leon had no doubt that they would play it off like he wasn't an American Citizen. They would have thrown him under the bus and left him there. 

It was his own luck that saved his ass. Hopefully said luck was still on his side for whatever had been following him. Leon just got off the bus after hitting the Cafe place, and it was particularly freezing outside due to the snow. 

He felt something brush his leg, stopping in his tracks as he looked down. 

"Mew!" A tiny cry came from down below, gold eyes staring up at him. 

Oh, it was his little friend from that alley he passed two blocks ago. A little kitten who had retreated to his little doughnut box when Leon went to pet him, the one Leon left a piece of his chicken sandwich. The little guy, or girl, must have been the one following him the whole time. 

Leon crouched down, the little gray kitten backing up, but not running away like before. Leon ripped another piece of chicken off of his sandwich, offering the little piece to the kitten. The little feline sniffed at his hand, tentatively eating the grilled chicken from his hand. They were so small, and frail looking, like they had been out here for a while and had only eaten what Leon had left them. 

"Where's your Mama, buddy?" Leon asked curiously as the kitten licked their chops, meowing up at the agent in either thanks...or for more chicken. The little gray feline shivered, giving a tiny sneeze, "Bless you." 

Another little meow escaped the feline before it darted into another alleyway, coincidentally into another doughnut box...which had been in the same position and height as the others. So, the little kitten had hideouts in different alleyways...or it was familiar to them. Either way, the kitten didn't seem like a pet someone had lost. 

Leon carefully went over to the box, picking it up slowly. He felt the container move, hearing tiny growls inside, but they ceased when little gold eyes saw who had picked up their home. The agent unwrapped his scarf from around his neck before carefully wrapping it around the box, not caring if it was dirty. Once the box was wrapped, and there was still an opening so the kitten could breathe, Leon held it to his side with one arm, carrying the little one to his apartment. It was around seven or so, and most of the animal shelters would have been closed, so Leon would take the kitten back to his apartment and keep them until the morning. 

He just had to stop at the pet store down the street from his home first. And maybe the vet.

__________________

After his stops, now almost nine-thirty at night, Leon finally arrived home with a proper pet carrier, food, food bowls, litter, a litter box and a bed...and some toys and a bit of medicine for his definitely male friend. The kitten grumbled and growled from inside his box at him once he set him down, the little guy mad at him for taking him to the walk-in Vet clinic and then for making him get shots. 

"Sorry, bud, just wanted to make sure everything was okay." Leon said as he undid the door for the carrier, carefully pulling out the doughnut box the kitten refused to leave, "Wanted to make sure you weren't sick or something. And personally, the bath wasn't my idea." 

He undid the top of the box and waited, sitting at the barstool next to his breakfast bar. When he pulled the kitten treats out, a little head poked out of the box, little eyes watching his every move. Leon carefully offered his hand for the kitten to sniff, wanting to pet the feline, but not wanting to do so without his permission. 

He felt a little wet nose sniff at his hand before the little guy rubbed up against it, purring lightly. Leon smiled as the little kitten bumped up against his hand, gently nipping at his fingers. There wasn’t any pressure behind the bite, and the little guy licked his fingers immediately after doing so. As if apologizing for the action or just giving him kisses of thanks. Leon let him sniff his other hand before gently picking him up. 

The little gray fuzzball gave no fight, wiggling only slightly to adjust in Leon’s grasp. Leon looked down at the little guy, inspecting him. The vet advised him not to name the little guy if Leon planned to take him to an animal shelter, but Leon didn’t want to just call him “Cat” or leave him nameless. On the other hand, his job was very demanding...and he would be gone around almost eight hours a day...maybe longer. But he already bought the necessary supplies to care for a kitten. But what if he was away on an assignment? What if…? 

He shook his head, trying not to think about that. Leon looked down at the little gray kitten, lying him against his chest as he looked down at him. The little feline meowed loudly up at him, crawling up his chest before perching himself on Leon’s shoulder. The kitten was still a tad shaky from the cold and the vet visit, or maybe he was just still a tad weak in general. 

Leon chuckled as he felt the little guy rub his face up against his own, little whiskers tickling his cheek. The gentle rumbling of purring filled his left ear, the strangely soothing sound making him feel...content. 

“You’re very welcome, Little Guy.” Leon said, gently scratching under the feline’s chin. 

The agent read the directions on the cat food can before looking down at the little packet that held his little buddy’s medicine. He let the little kitten down on to the counter once he had half a can in the food bowl, letting the kitten eat the canned cat food before gently picking him up once more. He gently pried the little one’s jaws open, apologizing the whole time before giving him the medicine. Luckily, it must have tasted good because the kitten didn’t protest, suckling it like it was like milk. 

Once the plastic syringe was empty, Leon cleaned it out and put the packet and medicine back in the refrigerator. He smiled as he wiped away the excess from the little one’s chops, dabbing away the mess. He carried the little one to the living room area, pulling out some toys for the cat to play with while Leon figured out how to put together his litter box...and then figure out how to teach the little cat to use the litter box. 

Leon looked over the instructions on the litter bag, squinting as he looked them over. Once he figured out how much he needed to put in the box, he poured some in and then tried to figure out exactly where he should put it. He needed to put it somewhere accessible so that the kitten would be able to find it and use it. 

“Alright, Little Buddy. It’s time to…” Leon turned, watching the little kitten pee on the hardwood floor by the coffee table, “Ah...damn it. It’s okay. It was just an accident.” He reassured, going to the kitchen and getting some paper towels to clean up the tiny pee puddle. 

After he cleaned up the mess, Leon played with the little kitten using the little wand, string and feather toy. He moved it around at a slow pace and in an almost teasing manner. Little gold eyes watched the feather, little head watching moving in the motion as the toy as he followed it. Pupils became enlarged as the kitten pounced on the feather, little paws narrowly missing it as Leon flicked it to the side. The little gray kitten chased after the feather toy in every direction until he finally got his little paws on it, chewing at the bright and colorful feathers and tinsel. 

After he managed to tire the little feline out, put the toys away for the night, picking him up and carrying him to bed. After Leon did his own routine, Leon set up the little cat bed on his own bed. He set the little doughnut box inside of the bed, before climbing in under the covers. The little gray kitten climbed out of his bed before climbing onto Leon’s chest and cuddling up into Leon’s neck, giving a small meow. 

It was going to take some time, but he would research and figure out how to go about raising the little guy and teaching him how to use the litter box. And then there was…

...Welp, guess he was keeping the kitten.

“Guess you’re staying.” He realized with a chuckle, petting the little kitten who fell asleep against his neck, purring in his sleep, “What should I name you?” 

Blue eyes wandered to the end of the bed, stopping at the doughnut once more. He looked over the bright pink and orange “MUNCHKINS” logo on the side of the box. He seemed to like staying in there, but right now, his current favorite spot was his shoulder. 

“How about...Munchkin? Munchie for short?” He asked. 

The sleepy kitten meowed in his sleep, nuzzling closer to his human. Leon gave a little chuckle. Munchie it is then. 

[ravynfyre]

Kitten Taming Update

My semi-feral kittens are pretty much tame now! They all allow me to pet them, and all come running when I step out and call for them now!

EVEN BETTER!!! Mama this morning was hungry enough that, instead of her customary hanging back a few feet and giving me a token hiss, she came up to within a few feet of the kibble dish when I filled it. I decided that toda will be an extra wet food day, and opened a can in the morning, instead of just the night can, to see if I could entice her in any closer. It worked! She came walking up to the plate with the wet food, and calmly watched as I reached down to pet her while she was eating. Then she stopped eating to sniff at my hand, then leaned into pets when I went back to petting her!

I decided not to press my luk, and just left them all to finish breakfast in peace. Then just a bit ago, while I let the dogs out back, I stepped out to the garage to check on the kits. All five kittens came wandering out of the garage or the weeds from where they had been napping to come get pets or say hi. One of the ones who had previously not sought out attention before today, DID, so YAY, even more improvement! BUT THEN!!!

Mama came wandering up and laid down a few feet away, which... she doesn’t do usually, except during meal times, and this isn’t a normal meal time. She looked at me calmly, and I talked to her, and asked if she wanted a pet or two. She watched me petting her kits for a minute, and then calmly got up, and walked over to me to ask for attention!!!! She politely stepped up and rubbed against me and waited for pets, and leaned into pets and scratches, and then laid down and rolled over to request belly scratches!

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this sudden attitude change, as she had been hissing at me yesterday, so I stepped away. When I did, she gave me this *look*... so I carefully stepped back over toward her, expecting her to at least stand back up. She DIDN’T! She just waited for me to come back to pet her again!!!

So. MAJOR SUPER IMPROVEMENT! Not going to expect that tomorrow will be the same... but omfg, I got to pet mama cat! So with that kind of improvement, I KNOW now that I will be able to make good enough friends with her that, once I locate a low cost spay/neuter clinic, I’ll be able to get her fixed so that we won’t be having any more litters here! And I can get the kittens fixed, too, when I can afford it! And hopefully save them all from the coyotes and cars!

I know it sounds stupid, but, guys, you have no idea how light my heart feels after getting the gift of her trust this afternoon. when she walked up to me for nothing more than human contact and affection.... ^___^

[kianraidelcam]

Rest of the story below the cut for those who don’t want to click the link! My sister asked if Connor liked cats so this came out of that. Thanks for reading! @interstellarvagabond Thought you might enjoy this :)

In retrospect, perhaps Connor should have taken up North on her offer to walk him home.

Of course, he was fully capable of defending himself and others when the situation called for it, but he had a feeling the fiery WR400’s presence would have ended this confrontation before it became physical. As it was, Connor was bracing himself for an altercation, allowing his preconstruction software to determine the best methods for finishing this fight before it even begins, when a soft cry distracts him. He glances at the tiny thing cowering in the corner of the alleyway, the cat whose cries attracted him to this area to begin with, and the three humans who had been tormenting the poor thing take advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration.

Despite their temporary advantage, the most they do is bloody his nose and Connor has them running before a full minute has passed. It was rare for him to find a human who could match his skill in combat, and three teenagers hardly qualified as a fight. By the time he has turned to the trembling feline, he has already sent the precinct a report listing their names with video from his optical units as evidence of their misdeeds. Connor crouches down and quiets his voice, murmuring soft reassurances to the cat as he assesses its condition.

His analysis immediately identifies it as a female tortoiseshell, approximately aged two months old, in stable condition despite a severe break in her right hind leg. Connor’s LED blinks yellow as he searches for an available veterinary clinic while he reaches toward the little ball of fur, smiling as it cautiously reaches forward to sniff at his hand. “That’s it, little one, I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, sliding closer to the slowly calming animal.

The kitten’s yellow eyes become half-lidded as she rubs her head against the palm of his hand and Connor takes that as an invitation to carefully pick her up, gently shrugging off his jacket to swaddle the tiny feline. Aside from a mewl of discomfort, she otherwise remains compliant, purring softly as the android scratches her head absentmindedly. The flickering yellow in his temple returns to blue as his search for a clinic yields no results. Not that he expected any at this time of night, although he certainly hoped at least one place would be open. “Alright, little one, you’re going to have to stay with me tonight,” the kitten blinks at him owlishly, “Don’t worry, I’ve already downloaded information on treating compound fractures in cats. I’ll take care of you tonight.”

The RK800 turns to continue his walk home, softly talking to the kitten the whole time, assuring it of a future with warm milk and a proper bed to lie in.

Detective Gavin Reed was beyond pissed off.

Of course his car had to fucking break down when it was forty fucking degrees out. Of course he had to get off work at ten fucking pm. Of course he broke his fucking phone this morning so he couldn’t call a fucking taxi. Mondays are a real bitch, and this one of course was no different. And then, of course, on his way home, he had to run into fucking RoboCop 1.0. Fucking androids, man. Gavin swore CyberLife had designed them to be as annoying as possible.

Brown eyes rose from the jacket bundled in his arms to mee Gavin’s green ones, and he had to stop himself from gasping at the sight of the plastic prick. Normally prim and proper, the android’s nose had a trail of blue blood leaking from it, the white plastic beneath showing as the skin glitched around it. Blue speckled his white button up, and if Gavin looked close enough, there was a hint of red blood on the gray jacket bundled in his arms. “The fuck happened to you, Barbie,” the question escapes him before he can contain it.

Gavin almost smiles vindictively when the robot mood ring jumps from blue to red, before settling on yellow. The android just stares at him for a second, and Gavin starts to wonder if he’s actually damaged until Connor answers, “Cat.”

He just blinks and Connor clears his throat, “Forgive me, Detective Reed. I meant that there was a cat in need of my attention. I was bringing her home to take care of her injuries, if you’ll excuse me.”

Gavin finally looks at the bundle in Connor’s arms and he can feel his heart drop as he notices the tiny yellow eyes staring at him. God damn it. The damn piece of plastic found his one weakness, a feat even his robo-brother hasn’t managed to do yet. The question leaves his mouth unbidden yet again, “Can I see?”

The android hesitates, and Gavin supposes he deserves it. He hasn’t exactly shown Terminator he had empathy as of yet, but Connor manages to shock him again when he relents, gingerly moving the jacket to give Gavin a better view of the most fucking adorable kitten he has ever seen. He’s aware of Connor mumbling in the background about how he came across the kitten, but all of his attention is focused on the bleeding leg just barely visible and the anger that rises with it. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, “Fucking hell, Connor…”

Connor stops in his explanation, a single eyebrow raised as a prompt to continue. “Look, I got some vet supplies at home from when Ellie got an infection, and I know a thing or two about taking care of cats.”

Of fucking course Connor tilts his head.

“You can take the fucking thing to my house.”

Of fucking course Connor doesn’t say anything, the prick.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. I got a…thing...for cats,” Gavin smiles softly as he reaches to rub the kitten’s head, “I won’t hurt her.”

The mood ring blinks once, twice, and then returns to blue as Connor straightens up, “That would be acceptable.”

Gavin just rolls his eyes and refrains from shouldering the robot if only to spare the kitten, and leads him to his apartment, where he knows Ellie is pissed off from him missing dinner time. “You tell anyone about this, I’ll fuck you up, you understand me?”

“Need I remind you of our fight in the evidence room, Detective? I calculate a-”

Gavin cuts off the asshole before he can finish his calculation, “I don’t have to help you.”

Connor closes his mouth as Gavin fumbles for his keys, cold fingers uncooperative. He swears under his breath, even as he smiles when he hears Ellie scratching at the door like she’s helping to let him in. He might never get his security deposit back but, damn, did she make him smile. He finally gets the door open and lets the android inside, ignoring the sharp claws climbing up his legs to reach his shoulder, motioning for Connor to sit on the couch as he heads to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. “Did you do your scanning thing on her or do I need to call my emergency vet to get her an x-ray,” he calls out, nuzzling the gray ball of fluff currently perched on his shoulder.

“Her right hind leg has a compound fracture which may require amputation, but she is unharmed everywhere else. I’ve already downloaded the necessary information to care for this injury until the clinics open tomorrow.”

Gavin swears under his breath. Fucking humans and their fucking treatment of cats. He knew he was an arrogant asshole, but even he understood that you never hurt an animal. Especially fucking cats, man. They deserved so much better. Gavin grabs the medical supplies and tosses them to Connor, who has made a nest of his jacket for the tortoiseshell to awkwardly cuddle up in. Despite her situation, Gavin can hear he purring from his location, and he smiles yet again. Fucking cats, man. Best fucking animals ever. “She’s a fucking trooper, just might have to keep her.”

The plastic detective, already cleaning the injury, nods in agreement. “She certainly is resilient,” he glances up at Gavin, or rather, Gavin’s shoulder, “Ellie, I presume?”

He grabs the cat from his shoulder as he nods and carries her to the kitchenette, “Found her on the street too, with a bad eye infection. She ended up losing her eyesight in that eye, as you can see, but she was otherwise fine.”

“I didn’t realize you liked cats, Gavin.”

“Remember the threat, prick. I’ll fucking end you if you tell anyone.”

“I’m alerting Lieutenant Anderson of my whereabouts, just in case,” Connor retorts as he wraps the leg, apologizing as the kitten cries.

He grabs some kitten food leftover from Ellie’s kitten days as she scarfs down her own meal, ignoring the two intruders. “Tell him you’ll need some blue shit too, most advanced prototype my ass. Can’t believe some fucking kids landed a hit on ya.”

“It was one hit, which is one more than you managed,” Connor reaches for the bowl as Gavin offers it, a smirk on his face, “Besides, the damage is minimal and my self-repair systems should handle it when I enter rest mode tonight.”

To refrain from smacking the piece of shit, Gavin focuses on the kitten instead of the insult. Fucking android was getting too good at them, no doubt as a result of Hank’s influence. The kitten is small, too small, Gavin notes, and she looks rather pathetic with the bright, white bandage engulfing her tiny leg. Despite it all, however, and despite a mouthful of food, she purrs louder than a motorboat and Gavin finds himself relaxing as he watches her. He pets her again, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the purring intensifies.

Fucking cats, man. He thinks he just adopted another one.

[tsukkibigbitchenergykei]

Rust

Battle Angel AU, Cyborg Bounty Hunter Bokuto

Rating: T

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou

Summary: 

Kuroo shrugs, grabbing hold of Bokuto’s ruined hand. It’s still hanging on to the wrist like an errant grape and Kuroo plucks it off with a small tug. He pats Bokuto’s cheek with his own fingers. “Someone is always maimed or dying around here, it’s not like this is anything new.” he says matter-of-factly.

In their lines of work, they know that better than anyone but still, Bokuto’s eyes drop down to his lap, the line of his mouth flattening out into a solemn line. It’s been almost a year now, almost a year since Bokuto came to the city, a stranger delivered to a strange place, too violent and cruel. Kuroo tamps down a smile as he thinks back to salvaging that wreck of a body from the scrap yard, finding the brain inside still alive and perfectly preserved by the most advanced core he’d ever seen in a cyborg and then shortly after, wondering how a heart powered by an antimatter micro reactor can be as delicate as glass.  

================================

Kenma finds him in the morning, half buried in strays and yesterday’s garbage. Bokuto wakes to the clicking of his tongue, calling to the  cats nosing at the piles of trash and prodding for scraps. Kenma doesn’t notice him at first, tired eyes skimming over the top half of a face peeking out at him from under a pile of black bags before doing a double take and squinting, as if trying to make sure if Bokuto is real or just a fresh, post-dawn hallucination.

Bokuto manages a weak grin. He tries for a wave too, managing after a lot of effort to lift one mangled hand. It barely manages a twitch, warped metal and fried circuits giving a wheezing, alarming creak before what’s left of his palm breaks off at the wrist and almost falls off, barely hanging on to his arm by a few sturdy cables.

Kenma looks rumpled and exhausted, pale gray scrubs still stained with blood. Going by the level of disarray his hair is in and the dark circles under his eyes, he hasn’t slept. Again. Still though, one look at Bokuto’s arm has the light of fresh annoyance flooding into his face. He gives Bokuto a quick once over, tawny eyes instantly sharp and alert. He isn’t wearing a shirt so it’s easy for Kenma to zero in on Bokuto’s shoulder, assessing the torn wires poking out of the chasm between his shoulder socket and his arm with a deep frown. The joint is technically not snapped in two but just barely. He heaves out a sigh.

“Rough night?”

“The worst.” Bokuto says with an exaggerated nod, nudging a kitten away with his other hand when it started to nibble curiously at some exposed wires on his shoulder. It isn’t deterred, mewling in protest. It sniffs curiously at the synthetic skin hanging in tatters around the gouge it was exploring earlier before sticking its entire head in it.

Bokuto yelps and tries to shake the kitten off, sending startled cats and random pieces of garbage flying. His flailing only succeeds in pushing the kitten into his shoulder socket and Kenma smacks him squarely on the head, swooping in and extricating the tiny kitten from Bokuto’s shoulder before it can slip further.

“Stop that, you could’ve hurt the cat.”

“I was trying not to!” Bokuto protested. “I was trying to get it out, there’s probably broken glass in there.”

Kenma quirks an eyebrow. “Probably?”

Bokuto shrugs as best he could with only one shoulder attached to his body and gestures  impassively at the very broken cybernetic one. He knows he fell through someone’s window and got stabbed with some broken glass at least once but if its still there, “I can’t feel it.”

Kenma hums. “I hope the bounty was worth the patch up job you’ve probably bought us this morning.” he says, bending down to set the kitten and the bowl of leftovers down on the curb.

He extends one hand to Bokuto when he’s done and maybe someone should’ve recognized that it’s a bad idea, but since Kenma is too tired to think and Bokuto rarely does, it’s truly inevitable that they both go tumbling back into the trash when Bokuto, all 200 pounds of metal and muscle of him, grabs Kenma’s hand and tries to heave himself up.  

They knock over a garbage can and the loud clanging it makes as it hits the ground and rolls around in a half circle before crashing against the building behind them is loud enough to send someone barrelling through the front door in alarm, a wrench clutched in one hand.

“Kenma, what in the hell-??”

Kuroo stops when he sees them, blinking in surprise.

“The garbage is aggressive this morning Kuroo.” Kenma mumbles, face half squished against Bokuto’s chest.

Kuroo looks like he hasn’t slept either, wild hair barely contained by the red bandana tied over it and rumpled overalls stained with blood and scorch marks. Looks like Bokuto isn’t the only one who had a rough night.  

“So it is.” Kuroo smirks, hooking his wrench back to his belt and crossing his arms over his chest. “Leave it there, it’s hideous.”

“Hey!” Bokuto starts but before he can say anything else, Kenma  climbs to his feet, dislodging everything that’s been shielding Bokuto from view and uncovering the full scope of the damage. His torso is mostly in one piece although big chunks of skin have been ripped off, leaving sparking wires and ruined cybernetics exposed. The mechanical carnage spans from Bokuto’s shoulder to almost all the way down to his waist.

Kuroo’s eyebrows slowly climb up to his forehead and nods down at the mess Bokuto’s made of himself. “Hideous. Did you fight a garbage disposal?”

“Close.” Bokuto says, sitting up and planting his flesh hand on the ground. “He had a shreddy thingie in his chest. Bunch of those circle...ish blades, the spiky ones?”

He manages to push himself up to a crouch with just one side of his body and when he wobbles dangerously, he grabs on to Kenma’s leg.

“Mmm.” Kuroo hums thoughtfully. “Buzzsaw Boobs.”

Bokuto lights up with a grin and points at him. “Buzzsaw Boobs!” He agrees. He tries to snap his fingers too for emphasis, forgetting that his dominant hand is barely attached to his body. The metal joints somehow manage to still move and even barely slide together but still, his middle finger breaks off completely and drops to the floor with a clang. The three of them just stare at it for a moment before Kuroo sighs and bends down to hoist him up.

“Alright shreddy, let’s get you inside before you lose any more parts.”

With some effort on everyone’s part, they manage to get Bokuto inside without causing any further damage. A metallic clicking snaps through the air every time he takes a step  so the process was slow going and a little nerve-wracking but with an arm around Kenma and Kuroo’s shoulders, they get him to Kuroo’s workstation and safely down onto the examination table.

The clinic is empty save for the three of them. The cot near the front door is conspicuously stripped of bedding, thin grey mattress marked with fresh stains. As dirty as it is, they still stand out; dark and blotchy, the color of wet rust. Bokuto finds himself staring at them in morbid fascination as Kuroo and Kenma bustle around him, murmuring to each other as they go. He wonders how long it took for the red to fade, wonders if he knew the answer to that once upon a time.

“We got a live one yesterday. He’s still live, just in case you were wondering.”

Kuroo tells him, settling down beside the table and immediately getting to work on Bukuto’s shoulder. Bokuto looks away from the cot to tilt his head at him curiously.

“What happened?”

“Good’ole black market theft.” Kuroo says, reaching into Bokuto’s shoulder with one hand. “Some snatchers cut open the poor kid’s legs and stole a bunch of bones. He was lucky they weren’t after his spine.” Kuroo grunts as he twists something loose and pops Bokuto’s ruined arm out from his shoulder socket with his bare hands. He whistles.

“Please tell me you collected at least. I’m surprised this was still on there.” Kuroo says, tapping the arm against Bokuto’s shoulder. “So many things are missing here I probably could’ve taken it off if I just pulled hard enough.”

“What happened to the kid? Is he alright?”  Bokuto asks, brows furrowed in a deep frown. He barely seems to have heard what Kuroo said about his arm. Kuroo stares at him before shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re scrap metal and you’re more worried about someone you don’t even know.”

“I’m a hunter-warrior, isn’t it kind my job to worry about people?”

Kuroo wants to tell him that it really isn’t but he opts to simply raise his brows in silence. Still though, Bokuto huffs at the non-answer and frowns at him when Kuroo reaches down and slides out the drawer of temporary spares he keeps under the table.

“I got enough credits to pay for the patch up and maybe even take you out to a nice date after, to answer your question.” Bokuto says, frown temporarily forgotten as he puffs up his chest and looks very proud for someone who barely dragged himself to their door and passed out in the garbage.

Kuroo gives him an indulgent smile anyway, withholding comment once again. He leans in close to get a good, long look at Bokuto’s damaged torso and hums thoughtfully. “You’d have to let me sleep first. Your torso’s pretty fucked up but fixable but we’re probably looking at a total rebuild for the arm.”

Bokuto winces. “Sorry.”

Kuroo shrugs, grabbing hold of Bokuto’s ruined hand. It’s still hanging on to the wrist like an errant grape and Kuroo plucks it off with a small tug. He pats Bokuto’s cheek with his own fingers. “Someone is always maimed or dying around here, it’s not like this is anything new.” he says matter-of-factly.

In their lines of work, they know that better than anyone but still, Bokuto’s eyes drop down to his lap, the line of his mouth flattening out into a solemn line. It’s been almost a year now, almost a year since Bokuto came to the city, a stranger delivered to a strange place, too violent and cruel. Kuroo tamps down a smile as he thinks back to salvaging that wreck of a body from the scrap yard, finding the brain inside still alive and perfectly preserved by the most advanced core he’d ever seen in a cyborg and then shortly after, wondering how a heart powered by an antimatter micro reactor can be as delicate as glass.  

“The kid is fine, pumped to the eyeballs with painkillers and high as a fucking kite but he’s stable, was even conscious when we got him settled down in the infirmary. To answer your question.” Kuroo parrots, leaning over to strap the prosthetic arm to Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Kenma’s checking on him right now. I think.” He continues, looking over his own shoulder at the door leading to their small isolation ward for their more sensitive cases. “Either that or he’s passed out in a corner somewhere.”

As if summoned, Kenma walks through the door looking still exhausted, a little harried but ultimately awake.

“Did the shrimp die while we weren’t looking?” Kuroo asks.

“Fading in and out. ” Kenma says. “He asked me if I was an angel.” Only after the words are out of his mouth does he look bewildered. The frown on his face says he’s wondering if maybe he hallucinated what he just said.

If the kid had died, Kuroo’s laugh would’ve been loud enough to wake him up. It’s a testament to how tired he is that Kenma leaps at the sound, dropping the bowl of bloodied rags and used syringes he was holding. He glares.

Kuroo has the decency to look sorry, even if his brand of sorry looks really smirk-y.

“That kid’s going to be just fine, I can feel it. Go to bed, I’ll finish up here.”

Kenma looks unsure. He lingers for a second, unmoving until Kuroo shoo-s him, complete with two handed flick of his fingers and sound effect. Appropriately, Kenma looks like an unimpressed cat but he doesn’t argue. He glances between them meaningfully and without another word, turns and disappears to the back of the clinic, presumably to very quickly clean up and pass out on the closest available surface.

After he’s gone, Kuroo turns back to him with a grin. “Right then, time to get you naked and wet.”

============================

Ten minutes later, Bokuto finds himself sitting buck-ass nude on cold tile, being sprayed down with a power hose strong enough to strip skin off of human flesh. He’s curled up in the smallest ball he can fold himself into with Kuroo’s long, pointy limbs caging him in on all sides. Something that, even with half his nerve receptors fried, is far from comfortable.

There’s barely any space in the stall wedged in the back corner of Kuroo’s workstation. The thing is barely two walls put up around the smallest corner of the room. Kuroo usually uses it to hose down parts so that being said, Kuroo basically has to be right on top of him in a very un-sexy way to wash the extra dirt and stench he accumulated in the trash.

“This is way less fun than it sounded.”  he mumbles as Kuroo upends a bucket of lukewarm soap water over his shoulders and immediately follows it up with another blast from the power hose.

“I mean, I could’ve just taken out the bleach and dumped it all over you. So this is slightly more sexy, I would argue.”  Kuroo replies easily. “If you just made it a few more feet and avoided the garbage, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Duck.”

Bokuto’s reply is muffled into his knees as Kuroo rinses off the back of his neck. “What can I say? The garbage is my home.”

That earns him a chortle and Bokuto smiles in turn, turning his head a little to try and peek back at Kuroo from his knees.

“Hey, Tetsurou?”

At the mention of his first name, Kuroo pauses in picking out the smaller bits of debris out of the tears along Bokuto’s side and looks to him curiously.

“Why did you pull me out of the scrapyard?”

Kuroo just stares at him for a bit, face carefully blank. He seems to be thoroughly considering the question, trying to parse it down to the last shred of meaning. Then, as if remembering it’s Bokuto he’s talking to, he smiles, shrugs.

“Isn’t it kind of my job to worry about people?” he reaches over to push Bokuto’s soaked bangs back from his eyes. “Also, Iwaizumi was pushing three years with Oikawa at that point. I figured if he can find a quality relationship in the garbage, so can I.”

They both giggle as Kuroo straightens up to his full height and Bokuto waits until he backs up halfway out of the stall to unfurl and pull himself up to his feet before speaking.

“I’m glad you did. Pull me from the scraps and find a quality boyfriend, I mean.”

Kuroo tilts his head at him curiously. “Me too obviously but what brought this on all of a sudden?”

Knowing how awkwardly Kuroo handles impromptu sappy declarations of emotion, no matter how sincere, Bokuto is pretty sure saying things like “Your face is the first thing I remember seeing but I doubt that has anything to do with the fact that you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I feel like I should always tell you” wouldn’t be received as well as he would like it to be so he just shrugs.

“I was just a brain without anything in it. Everything I have now is because of you.”

Kuroo almost manages to suppress his reaction to that. Almost.

“I mean, you didn’t even know me. Hell, I didn’t even know me and you built me a whole body and gave me a place to stay. I could’ve been a psycho for all we knew...I don’t know, just. It was scary not knowing anything but I knew that you were kind and that’s pretty awesome. Thank you... and I love you, is I guess what I’m trying to say.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything for several long seconds.

“Are you dying?”

“Wh- no?? Wouldn’t you know that better than me?”

“Am I dying?”

Bokuto tries not to deflate. “Kurooooo, come on. I was trying to be romantic here.”

“How is the pressure feedback and texture sensors on your face?”

“Fine? I can definitely feel the water and-”

-and he can definitely feel Kuroo’s mouth on his, Kuroo’s rough fingers cradling the back of his neck. Bokuto’s eyes close of their own accord and his hands come up to pull Kuroo closer, sighing into the kiss as he tilts his head to slide their lips together more firmly.

Kuroo pulls away first with a low breathless chuckle. “You’re so weird. Cute, but weird.”

“You’re weird.” Bokuto shoots back eloquently, reaching up to wind his arms around Kuroo’s neck and pressing closer so they’re standing chest to chest with barely any space between their bodies.

“It’s fine, I had to change out of these anyway.” Kuroo says, glancing down at all the water seeping into his clothes and making absolutely no move to pull away.

“Does it bother you? That I don’t know who I was?”

Kuroo’s eyes slowly make their way back up to Bokuto’s face at the somber question. He doesn’t ask about it this time, used to Bokuto’s sudden mood swings and especially familiar with this mood in particular. He wonders what snippets he remembered this time, if they were as violent and grim as what little else he’s managed to get back.

“No. It doesn’t.”

Whoever Bokuto was is lost to the literal centuries, possibly more. He may never be that person again. He doesn’t tell Bokuto this, what he does say is what matters.

“I only know you now and I’ll only know who you’ll be from here. That’s more than enough for me.” he murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re the best thing I ever pulled out of the trash.”

Bokuto snorts and rears back a bit to butt their heads together. “You’re awful.”

Kuroo knows that this isn’t the last time they’re going to have this conversation but for now, Bokuto seems content to let the subject drop.

“I saw someone die yesterday.” Bokuto offers and whether he meant in real life or in the dark, murky corners of his own mind, Kuroo doesn’t know nor does he ask.

“I saw someone live yesterday.” Kuroo rests a hand on Bokuto’s chest. “And maybe you didn’t see them but a lot of other people lived yesterday too.” He smirks. “You took Buzzsaw Boobs to the chest so they don’t have to.”  

Bokuto laughs but though the sound isn’t as jubilant as it usually is, the sigh he buries muffles into Kuroo’s neck sounds relieved.

“I’m tired. Lets go to bed.”

Kuroo kisses his temple. “Yeah. Let’s.”

[sulevinblade]

For DADWC: "Try harder." Jonah/Anders

Ten thousand years later, for @dadrunkwriting, a little fluff inspired by a video I saw this morning that was exactly the content I needed today (here). Handers, G, ~1350 words.

“Is there some kind of waiver? I feel like I ought to sign a waiver.”

“Setting aside your lack of faith in my ability to heal you if something does go wrong, what makes you think you’ll need a waiver?”

Jonah warily eyed the eight pound grey murder machine making lazy biscuits on Anders’ cot. “The first time I spent the night here he pissed on my boots and you don’t think I should be concerned now that there will be claws involved?”

“He did that because your boots smell like Leon, and speaking of Leon, he has a name.” Anders snapped his fingers to get the cat’s attention and the gentle way he smiled when the creature turned and rubbed his face against them was enough to remind Jonah why he was doing this. It was important to Anders, so it was important to him.

“All right, but if Nibbles–” Anders cleared his throat meaningfully and Jonah sighed. Of all the… “If Ser Nibbles here slits my throat I want you to look after Leon at least as well as you look after him. He really does love you, you know.”

Anders snorted. “Leon’s a dog, they love everyone. Now, sit down, carefully. You’re bigger than me and you’re liable to startle him.”

Jonah lowered himself to the other end of the cot, dutifully watching for any signs of nervousness from the cat, but Ser Nibbles seemed thoroughly engrossed in watching the feathers on Anders’ shoulders move. “Leon is not just a dog, he is a sophisticated war hound. He’s very intelligent.”

“Love, what did your dog do when you brought home the boots Ser Nibbles ruined?” Anders’ tone was light, playfully conversational, but Jonah just sighed again. He knew a lost battle when he saw one.

“He ate them but that’s not–”

“Not a sign of deep sophistication, that’s for sure. Now, just lean down a little and cluck your tongue to get him to come over.” Anders turned the cat around so he was facing Jonah then folded his hands in his lap, a model audience for what Jonah was sure was going to be one of his greatest defeats. Even so, he clucked his tongue and even snapped his fingers, since that had worked so well for Anders.

It worked for him as well, with Ser Nibbles trotting over to sniff at his fingers. They’d gotten this far before, and as before Jonah was able to give the cat a little scratch under the chin and around to his cheek. That wasn’t so bad; in his experience Ser Nibbles wasn’t prone to biting (despite his name) which meant the head and face were fair game. It was everything past the cat’s shoulders that complicated things.

“All right, now lean down a bit more. It shouldn’t take much, he likes to climb, but you have to relax or he’ll tense up too and what do tense cats do?”

“They score your flesh with their vicious toe razors is what.” Jonah curled down further still and closed his eyes, waiting for a fast, pointy death to come for him. He felt the weight of the cot shift as Anders stood and moved around behind him, presumably so he could be in the cat’s line of sight.

“They scwatch because they feew scawed, yes they do, don’t you, Ser Nibbwes?” It was a good thing Anders couldn’t see his face right now because for all that he didn’t understand the man’s relationship with the cats around the clinic, it still never failed to charm him when he slipped into baby talk with them. “Now, come on, don’t let the big bad man scare you, he doesn’t mean to be loud and smell of dogs.”

“I beg your pardon, I certainly do mean to smell of–” His protest was cut off when, as expected, a handful of pinpricks dug into his shoulder, but only for a moment. The move to lift a hand to support the cat was instinctive, if only to keep him from sliding backwards and doing more damage, but as soon as Jonah’s hand came up under the cat’s back end, the claws retracted. After another moment, he felt the warm little body on his shoulder start to relax.

“There. Now, sit up straight and if you feel him getting wiggly, just squish his bottom against your shoulder. Don’t push him off, just hold him a little tighter.” Jonah opened his eyes when he felt Anders’ hand on top of his, showing him how to apply pressure. “Cats like to be held securely so as long as you don’t crush him, pressing is all right.”

He sat up straighter, waiting to feel the cat dig in as preparation to launch off him, but to Jonah’s surprise, Ser Nibbles instead started to purr. Not vigorously, just a gentle vibration, so soft he might not even have noticed if the cat weren’t so close to his ear, but it was gratifying nonetheless. “You’re petting him back there, aren’t you?”

“Yes but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s sitting comfortably on your shoulder. That’s all your doing, love. I’m petting him because I want to, not because I think he needs it.” Anders’ hand left Jonah’s, moving up to stroke the top of his head. “Or are you jealous? I can pet you both.”

“I’m not jealous of a cat.” He certainly didn’t mind the attention, though. It felt like fair compensation for risking his life this way. “I don’t understand how you figured all this out. Dogs are easy, you feed them, scratch behind their ears once, and they’re yours for life. Cats are like an entire different language.”

“Not everything in the world can be achieved through brute force and food, you know. Some things take more subtlety. Besides,” Anders continued, his hand on Jonah’s hair moving more slowly as his voice turned thoughtful, “the only dogs in the tower were the occasional Mabari. They didn’t come often but if for some reason they wanted to make an extra show of force or literally sic the hounds on someone if they escaped, then Mabari were what they went with. Cats came and went from the tower because they wanted to. It was nice, if infrequent. They were like little extra roommates instead of extra jailers. So yes, I spent more time getting to know how to interact with them. We didn’t all grow up thinking of dogs as our best friends, you know.”

Jonah sat quietly even after Anders finished speaking. What was he supposed to say to that? There was nothing he could say.

Anders picked up on it too, tugging a little on the part of Jonah’s hair he kept tied back. “Ah, I brought the mood down, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about Leon, I know he’s very dear to you and I’m sure your family made sure he doesn’t have a taste for mage blood. That said, did you notice, while you were listening to me, that you made a new friend?”

Jonah started to turn his head, stopping when Anders tugged on his hair again. The cat was still purring, the tip of his tail tapping gently against Jonah’s collarbone. “Is he asleep?”

Anders laughed. “No, that might be something for another day but you’re doing very well so far. Ser Nibbles may be more complicated than a dog but it’s amazing what you can accomplish when you’re willing to try a little harder.” Jonah dug his fingers into the fur at the base of the cat’s tail and watched from the corner of his eye as Anders leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t mind complicated when it’s worth it,” he murmured, tilting his head to bump against Anders’ jaw when he started to move away again. A very feline gesture, or at least he thought so. If the way Anders threaded his fingers into his hair again was any indication, the local cat expert agreed.

“And is he worth it?”

“Oh, yes. He’s worth it.”

[theparadoxmachine]

Hey guess what I have....

I have two fully vaccinated kitty cats.

I took Horatio and Nebula to the low cost vet clinic this morning. They were way overdue. Tbh I'm not sure Ray has ever gotten his shots. I know. I'm a terrible cat owner. But I've been broke for so damn long and they never go out. But it still needed to be done.

I am so proud of them though. There were some kitty tears ngl. Nebula especially voiced her displeasure at being stuffed in a box in a car then being stuck outside surrounded by loud and nosy dogs. Ray mostly curled up in his crate and played If I Can't See You You Can't See Me. Poor guy.

There was one really old black lab named Ike who wanted to come over and sniff the cats. He was super calm about it and his owner told me that he has cats at home and can't stand to hear them cry and wanted too see if Nebula was okay. It was really sweet. Then there was a really young...idk kelpie maybe? Could of been a German shepherd idk. It was in a harness but its owner kept letting it stick its face in my cats' cages but not calmly like Ike. And she'd scold it but not put much effort into holding the dog back. Also the owner would not stfu the. Entire. Time. We. Were. There.

*EDIT BECAUSE TUMBLR ATE HALF THIS POST WTF*

We finally got inside. The whole thing is a temporary clinic, so it’s just one room and they bring the animals in a few at a time. For the cats, they had me go into the bathroom so if they bolt, they won’t get far. The vet used the changing table as a makeshift exam table and had me pull them out one at a time. And guys....

They were GREAT. 

I figured they’d squirm or scratch or try to escape. I was seriously worried Ray would bite. But nope. They let me pull them out without a fight and sat there and got their shots without a bit of fuss. They even let her give them their dewormer, which is administered orally without any problems. 

We went back out into the room, and I’m not going to deny I felt a surge of pride knowing all three of my fur babies were so brave about getting their shots. Though I did wait until we got to the car to tell the cats how proud I was of them that they were braver than the kelpie that had been messing with them.

And they were calm as can be on the ride home. I think they were grateful to be away from all the dogs and people. I also expected them both to hide under the bed and hate me for hours, but no. Nebula snuggled with me on the bed, and Ray has stayed nearby. 

Gold Stars for both of them. 

[luffysfakebeard]

Gael!! Can you write a hc with Sana and her cat?

anything for you Nate 😘 (this is how I imagine the cat to look)

the cat actually started out as a stray that lived near the Bakkoush household

Sana was nine - nearly ten, she’d add if anyone asked - when she was coming home from school and saw the cat hiding under a hedge because it was injured

Elias told her to leave it alone, that she might scare it or it might attack her thinking she was trying to injure it further, but Sana couldn’t bear the thought of that poor nameless cat all alone and in pain

she filled a tupperware box with water and put together a little plate of food after using Elias’ computer to google what foods were safe for cats (she settled on some leftover chicken and some blueberries and she definitely didn’t sneak some blueberries for herself)

her mother caught her trying to sneak out and when Sana explained what she had to do her mother just smiled and told Elias to go with her because she was too little to be out alone (Sana and Elias had both protested that, but either they both went or no one did)

it took a few minutes for the cat to come out from under the hedge when Sana set down the food and water, but soon enough they limped out and lapped up some water

after filling its tummy the cat went over to Sana and gave her a curious sniff and Sana’s whole face lit up when the cat even let her scratch its ears

after that night the cat would always come out to see her when she was walking to or from school, rubbing up against her legs and letting her scratch its head

Sana would often bring the cat little food treats after school

about a year and a half after their friendship was formed the cat got pregnant and Sana rushed home and rushed to her mother all worried about this cat being out there in the harsh Norwegian winter pregnant and alone

it took a lot of begging and pleading and promising to work around the house to earn the money back if they could just please take that cat to the animal clinic to see if there was anything they could do

everyone was expecting the trip to the vets to be a nightmare, but the cat was so docile around Sana and trusted her enough to let her pick them up. Sana put them in her little basket that she’d lined with her softest blanket and the cat snuggled in without much complaint, purring the whole way to the clinic

the vet checked the cat over and deemed her healthy enough, but said there wasn’t really much else they could do for a stray cat. there was no collar, no microchip, no sign that there might be an owner out there looking for them

that was how the cat ended up coming home with the Bakkoush family (after a lot of begging from Sana and promising she would look after it)

the cat settled into domestic life faster than anyone had expected, but was still wary of anyone who wasn’t Sana

true to her word, Sana fed the cat every morning and every evening and cleaned out the litter box when the cat had chosen to use that rather than go outside and played with her furry friend

after a few weeks her mother suggested that maybe it was time that Sana named the cat.

after a lot of contemplating and staring at the cat (she wanted to be sure the name fit her cat’s look and personality okay) Sana decided to name her Benny (the vet had told them that the cat was a bengal breed and Sana thought it sounded so exotic for Norway, Benny was like a tiny cheetah)

when her brothers pointed out that Benny was a boys name Sana just told them cats don’t care about boy name or girls name so neither should they and besides Benny was her cat so she could name her however she pleased

and so it was that the Bakkoush’s welcomed their new tiny (but very pregnant) family member Benny with a personalised set of bowls that Sana bought with her own pocket money

the next trip to the clinic the vet praised Sana on how well she was looking after Benny and how not many people help out stray cats

Benny’s favourite place in the Bakkoush household was the basket with Sana’s super soft blanket. if she wasn’t wandering around the garden or playing with Sana, Benny could be found sound asleep in that basket

it seemed like no time at all before Benny’s kittens were coming

she had four tiny babies, and Sana was sure they were the tiniest most precious things she had ever seen in her whole 12 years of life

while Sana’s parents had allowed Benny to stay, they put their foot down and keeping the kittens. so after two months of playing and tripping over kittens in the middle of the night, they all went to their new homes

for her own health Benny was spayed as soon as safely possible after having her kitten, and she spent the days after that trip to the vet’s cuddled up to Sana looking very sorry for herself

Benny was soon back to her normal playful self though, chasing after Elias and trying to climb Jamilla’s leg and making doe eyes up at Mr Bakkoush to get him to sneak her bits of food of his plate (he was the weakest link in that regard, though he would vehemently deny it)

while Benny was pretty chill with all the Bakkoush’s, she loved Sana the most. if she was in the house when Sana came home she’d scurry over meowing happily and demanding affection before Sana had even managed to toe off her shoes

for some reason Benny doesn’t really like Elias. sometimes she’ll just sit and stare at him until he squirms and moves away. (Sana thinks it’s hilarious, but Elias has always been a little bit wary of cats)

Sana was sure that Benny had higher emotional intelligence than some of the people she’d met. whenever Sana was feeling unwell or sad, Benny would pad up to her and sit with her and cuddle up and purr like a chainsaw when Sana stroked her

Benny’s favourite sort of rub was one that went from the top of her head and down her back and right up her tail

Sana loved to gently jiggle Benny’s tummy, which was a little bit flabby after being spayed and having a few months being more of an indoor cat

Sana’s door to the garden is almost always open for Benny to go in and out, but most nights Benny sleeps stretched out along Sana’s side

Benny is pretty much the most pampered and loved cat in the world

through thick or thin, Sana loves Benny and Benny loves Sana

[colorofyourhair]

For the Love of Fluffy

Prompt:

Prompt Rating: M/E

Note: Requests are open again so please see [this] post for rules if you’d like to make one! As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.

Thank you to @ahumanintraining I hope this is what you wanted because I took forever working it out in my head haha! My shame is evident in your Christmas theme. Whoops.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

Jellal hated arresting people. His partner, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind so much. He let Laxus cuff the guy and direct his drunken stagger toward the cruiser. Jellal kicked through some of the garbage in the man's front yard and sighed. The night had been long; each call more bizarre than the last – some shifts were like that, though. Sometimes he was stuck in the car for hours as Laxus circled through neighborhoods and city streets, bitching about his grandpa or whining about his girlfriend. Other nights they didn't even have time to stop for bathroom breaks, much less food.

Just as he was turning back to the cruiser, a pair of glinting yellow eyes caught his attention. Jellal picked through the overgrown grass and crouched at the edge of the flowerbed. Cowering under the unkempt brush was a cat – a kitten most like. Not quite big enough to be full grown but not tiny either. Jellal held out his hand but the animal backed against the house.

“Fernandes!” Laxus's voice called from the driveway. “Let's go! I wanna book this guy and get home!”

“Bring me those chicken nuggets,” Jellal said over his shoulder.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The chicken nuggets, man. The ones in the bag.”

“You mean my fucking dinner?”

“You can get more and eat them hot when we're done. Just bring me the ones in the bag!” Jellal could hear Laxus grumbling, but he did bring the food – even if he sulked in the process.

“What's your problem?” He tossed the bag to the ground at Jellal's side and put his hands on his hips above his belt. Jellal slowly opened the bag and pulled out the box of cold chicken. He tore one nugget into a few bits and held the pieces toward the cat.

Nothing. The cat simply stared at him from under the bush. Jellal swallowed a frustrated growl.

“You're scaring her,” he muttered to Laxus. “Just wait for me in the car.”

“I'm scaring who?” Laxus got down next to Jellal and peered into the bushes. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Just go.”

“You're not bringing a cat with us. Call animal control.” Laxus stood. “Or better yet, leave it alone. Cats wander.”

“It's not a big deal,” Jellal said quietly, wishing Laxus would leave him to lure the cat on his own. “We can finish up at the station and I'll take it home with me.”

“What if it has rabies?”

Jellal rolled his eyes. “It doesn't have rabies.”

“You don't know that.”

“Just go back to the car. She's terrified of you.”

“She?” Laxus demanded. “So now it's a girl cat? Jesus, man, you need to get laid. Get the fuck up and let's go.”

Jellal tried to remain calm. “What if I told the Lieutenant what really happened to your last set of cuffs?”

“You –” Laxus froze. Jellal could feel the anger rolling off him. “You wouldn't dare.”

“If you don't let me handle this cat, I absolutely will. I don't know that Mirajane would like that story repeated.” Jellal inched as close to the flowerbed as he could. “I'm sure it would be horrifying for her that you told even me.”

“You fucking rat bastard.” Laxus's complaint was lodged, but he did walk away.

“Sorry about that,” Jellal whispered to the cat. “He's an ass but he won't hurt you.” Yellow eyes blinked slowly before a pair of black paws began to stretch forward. It was a full minute before the cat stood and leaned into his hand to sniff at the breaded chicken bits.

The cruiser's headlights flashed on and off. Jellal jammed his irritation to the back of his mind and waited for the cat to clear the bushes. She took the chicken from the palm of his hand and when he carefully wrapped his arm around her middle, there was no protest.

Jellal slid into the passenger side of the cruiser and grinned smugly..

“I can't believe you,” Laxus fumed.

He made her a bed of old camping blankets after a quick bath in the kitchen sink. Jellal couldn't tell exactly how old the cat was but he thought she was developed enough to have visible male parts – and she didn't. He left her in the nest of blankets before leaving shedding his uniform to the bedroom floor and showering his shift away.

Nights like these were when he was most grateful to be single. He didn't have to talk about his day or listen to someone else go on about theirs, and he could simply fall into bed unconcerned with used clothes and towels. Jellal didn't actually think his job was conducive to relationships and could not understand where Laxus's energy to maintain one came from.

With his hand on the flap of his towel, Jellal stopped cold in the bedroom doorway. His new companion was curled into a black ball of fur on the edge of his bed. She didn't move except to breathe. He'd always thought cats to be independent creatures, yet this one was perfectly comfortable making herself at home in his bed. Her fur was soft to the touch and when his hand came to rest on her middle, the sound of purring surged.

Jellal decided she could stay. He didn't have the heart to kick her back out to the living room. The next two days were his own time and would figure out what to do with her in the morning.

“Full?” He repeated incredulously. “I didn't realize – Oh, okay. Of course.” Jellal ended the call and tossed his phone to the couch cushion beside him. He'd called four animal shelters and not one would take the cat – the first actually would've taken her but their website said nothing about 'no-kill' policies and the thought of that made his stomach turn. The cat nudged his elbow with her nose and he lifted his arm to allow her into his lap.

“I'm sorry, girl. I'm trying to to find you a home but I'm not having a lot of luck.” She curled into his lap and began the roaring purr he'd heard the night before. “I'm sure a boring guy like me isn't what you want.”

Jellal stroked the soft fur of her back thoughtfully. A paw reached out to the edge of his shirt and her claws caught in the fabric. How hard would a cat be, really? Did he even have time to take care of her? He didn't know the first thing about keeping a pet. Jellal felt like an idiot when he realized all he had to do was call a veterinary clinic and ask.

He reached for his phone again, called the first clinic that popped up in his search, and made an appointment.

As agreeable as she'd been thus far, the little cat did not like the veterinary clinic. She dug her claws into Jellal's shoulder and flattened her ears. Even once they were situated in a private exam room, she didn't want to be removed from his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered, when the tech left them alone. “It's fine. You're fine.” The cat's tension didn't lessen at all and Jellal finally sighed and settled into one of the chairs.

The exam room door swung open again and the cat panicked. She tore herself from Jellal's shoulder and disappeared under the row of chairs. Jellal dropped to his knees and peeked between the legs of the chair. The cat was huddled all the way back against the wall in the corner.

“I didn't mean to scare her,” a female voice said. “Is she alright?”

“She's fine. Just a little skittish, I think.”

“I'm very sorry.” A hand lightly touched his shoulder before she crouched beside him and grimaced. “I should've knocked first.”

“I don't think it would've helped,” he said, glancing over at her. She smiled and Jellal suddenly felt like smiling too. Warm brown eyes and a coil of his favorite shade of red hair – if it hadn't been his favorite before, it certainly was now – drew him in. Jellal blinked and felt like an idiot for staring. “Are you the vet?” he blurted. She laughed.

“I am.” The woman peered under the chair. “I mean I'm not the vet. This isn't my practice or anything. I'm new here.” When she straightened again, her cheeks were pink. Jellal loved it. “I feel really bad about scaring her.”

“Please don't. I had to lure her from a flowerbed last night with cold chicken nuggets.” Jellal eased back up into the chair and the veterinarian sat opposite him. “I don't know anything about having a pet.”

“You're positive it's a female?”

“Well –” Jellal cleared his throat awkwardly. “I had a look last night when I bathed her. I didn't see any... thing.”

“She looks old enough to have testicles.”

“Right,” Jellal breathed, running a hand through his hair. “Testicles. Listen, I don't even know what questions to ask.”

“Are you keeping her?”

“I think so. I called a few shelters this morning but –”

“It's a bad time of year for that, I'm afraid.”

“I can't leave her at a place that might euthanize her. I just can't.” Jellal watched her pull a clipboard from the exam table and glance over his information. “I'm allowed to keep her, right?”

“Of course!” She smiled at him again and his stomach flipped over. Her finger flicked a wisp of hair from her eye and she set aside the clipboard. “You said you work a lot?”

“Yeah. My shift is pretty set for now, but it's not ideal.”

“My dad was a police officer. I know it can be taxing.”

“How –”

Her cheeks flushed pink again and she pointed at his chest. “Your t-shirt. Magnolia P.D., right? I'd recognize that logo anywhere.” Jellal glanced down at his shirt, abashed.

“I didn't even realize I'd put this on.”

“It's okay, Mister Fernandes. We all get sucked into our jobs sometimes.” Her eyes fell to her hands and then to the floor where a curious set of paws were inching into view. “Some professions more than others.”

“It looks like she's regained the boldness that had her sleeping on my bed last night.”

“Maybe.” The veterinarian carefully dropped her hand down to brush over the kitten's ears. “I hope so anyway.” When her attention didn't leave the emerging cat, Jellal took the opportunity to study the name tag pinned to the front of her white coat. Scarlet. The strand of hair she'd flicked away earlier, fell again and his finger twitched. Finally, she straightened and pulled the previously cowering animal into her lap. “There, see?” she said softly. “We can be friends. I didn't mean to scare you.”

The cat purred very loudly as she sniffed the open flaps of the white coat. With the most careful of touches, Doctor Scarlet began to inspect the cat's body.

“You were right. She's a girl. I'd put her at about nine months and she's definitely not been spayed.”

“That's the same as neutering, right?” Jellal asked tentatively.

“Yep.” She smiled as her fingers slid under the cat's belly and felt along her ribs. “She's also a little skinny. I wouldn't recommend table food, though. There's plenty of brands of cat food to choose from.”

“What kind would you recommend?”

“I'll make some notes in your care instructions.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“It's not a problem, Mister Fernandes. I'm here to help.” The cat nudged her palm with a pink nose. “I would highly recommend a round of vaccinations and the basic line of tests just to make sure she's healthy.”

“What's the basic line of tests?”

“Cultures for intestinal worms, an antibody test for heartworms, and separate tests for feline leukemia and immunodeficiency. It doesn't look like she has fleas but considering you found her in a flowerbed, a flea treatment wouldn't hurt.”

“Like a flea collar?”

“No, those can be very problematic. You can bathe her at home with shampoo or we can do it here. There's a few different preventative treatments you can go with if she'll be outside at all – which I also don't recommend.”

“I live in an apartment so she'll be inside all the time.”

“Good!” Doctor Scarlet drew the cat against her chest and stood. “We can do the shots and take samples today, if you want. Results can take a few days but if you want these things done, it's probably best to get it out of the way.”

“Perfect. What about the other thing?”

“Other thing? Do you mean the spay? I can schedule that for you.”

“Thanks. I'm sorry for not knowing any of this stuff.”

“Don't worry about it!” She placed the cat back in his lap gently and her hands disappeared into her pockets. “I'll get the vaccinations and culture kits. It'll just be a minute or two.”

Doctor Scarlet opened and closed the door quietly behind her. Jellal exhaled heavily. He wished the veterinarian had been someone old and unattractive. Why did it have to be a young woman – who appeared to be roughly his peer in age – with a soft smile and hair he couldn't keep his eyes off of? Not that she was even an option – he would never consider hitting on a woman while she was working – but Jellal enjoyed his life the way it was. He could take any shift required without hesitation and everything in his life was expressly his.

The sound of purring and pressure on his thighs, drew Jellal's eyes down. His new companion gazed up at him and slowly blinked. He supposed he wasn't alone anymore anyway but he'd rather not leave the door wide open for just anyone to walk through.

“Mira wants to move in together,” Laxus said breaking the silence in the cruiser. Jellal took a long pull off his water bottle. He'd have given anything to avoid the subject of Laxus's personal life. “I think she wants to get married or something.”

Jellal sighed and gazed out of his window. “How do you know that?”

“Why else would she want to move in together?” Laxus demanded irritably.

“I don't know, maybe she just wants to... live together?”

“You don't think it's a head game or a hint?”

“I think you've been spending too much time on Reddit. Women aren't actually trying to subjugate men. If Mirajane wants the two of you to get a place together, that's probably all she wants.”

“Hm.”

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Jellal tapped the water bottle cap against the window. From his peripheral, he could see Laxus's eye twitching.

“You're a smartass.”

“Better a smartass than a dumbass.”

“Speaking of dumbass shit, what did you end up doing with that cat?”

“I'm keeping her.”

“What?!” Laxus glanced over at him in disbelief. “Why didn't you just take it to a shelter? Cats have fleas and claws.”

“She doesn't have fleas and none of the shelters would take her.”

“Mira has a friend who works at a vet clinic. She's always got crazy stories about people and their pets. I can't believe you kept that fucking cat.”

“It's fine. She likes me and I took her to the vet already.”

“You need a girlfriend.”

“No,” Jellal said under his breath. “I need a less chatty partner.”

“Did you get that department email?”

“Yep.” Jellal went back to tapping his water bottle lid on the window. He didn't know why he was being so snappish and evasive with Laxus but the question annoyed him. Of course he'd received the email and, of course, he'd be at the event. The city's children's charities fundraiser was very personal to him – not that Laxus knew anything about that.

“And?”

“How long have we been partners, Dreyar?”

“I don't know. Three, maybe four years?”

“And when have I ever not attended the spring children's charity fundraiser?”

“Eh –” Laxus's thumb drummed on the steering wheel.

“I'll be there, just not in uniform. I'm off that day.” Jellal glanced over at Laxus, whose jaw twitched suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

“Just curious.”

“You're a shitty liar.”

“Mira thinks –”

“No, you both think. And I'm not meeting any more of her friends. I'm happy just the way I am! I even have a pet now!” Laxus shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat and Jellal scowled. “You should move in with your girlfriend. You're perfect for each other.”

“I'll tell her to back off.” The radio crackled and rattled off an address. Laxus sighed and switched on the lights and siren. “I still can't believe you kept the cat, Fernandes.”

Jellal crossed his ankles and stared at the bedroom ceiling. Four points of pressure took up residence on his chest and he smiled at the settling lump of black fur. He still hadn't picked out a proper name and had taken to simply calling her Fluffy. She purred loudly when his hand fell into a pattern of stroking her ears and back.

“You don't think I need a girlfriend, do you, Fluffy?” The cat – obviously – did not answer him. Her yellow eyes slid closed. “It's not that I don't want someone else in my life. I think I just...” Jellal trailed off and let his arm flop on the mattress beside him. He needed a shower. Fluffy seemed to read his mind and hopped from his chest to the edge of the bed.

When Jellal stepped from the shower, the bathroom still swirled with steam. He used his palm to wipe the mirror and sighed at his reflection. Maybe he really did need a girlfriend if he was having soul searching sessions with a cat.

The day felt absolutely perfect. Just the right amount of clouds hung in the sky to keep the sun from scorching everyone, and a breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees. Jellal handed off the last cluster of balloons to a volunteer and tossed the empty spools of ribbon into a waiting trash bag.

“Thank you so much for coming, Jellal,” Ultear said, tying off the bag.

“I always do.” His hands slid into his pockets.

“You don't have to, though. That's why it matters.”

“Kids should always have safe places. I would give more if I could.”

“Showing up at all is a big deal for some of them.” Ultear pulled the cover back over the helium tank.

“That's a shitty standard,” he muttered.

“I finally got the building permit. Construction for the expansion starts in two months.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” She smirked, slid her arm through his, and pulled him up the sloping hill toward the long stretch of arbor that led back to the parking lot. From the crest they could see the entire park and the amphitheater's lawn slowly fill with brightly colored blankets. Hints of late afternoon sunlight glinted off soap bubbles and kites emblazoned with the charity's logo soared in the air. When the sun set, the stage would be the center of attention. “What's bothering you?”

“Am I so obvious?”

“Incredibly.”

“My partner says I need a girlfriend and thinks I'm crazy because I took in a stray cat.”

“Do you think you need a girlfriend?”

“I think I like the cat,” Jellal hedged. “She purrs pretty loud and sleeps on my back but she's nice.” He laughed and added, “Needy.”

“Jellal –”

“I'm fine, Ultear.” Her head came to rest on his shoulder and she sighed.

“I'm hardly one to dispense relationship advice, and I'm not saying you should go all out and get on a dating site or anything, but maybe stop thinking of a girlfriend as a performative concept and more of a thing you share with someone else.” Jellal opened his mouth to reply but Ultear tightened her grip on his arm. “I bet you didn't think you wanted or needed a pet before you got a cat, right?”

“I coaxed her out of the flower bed of a drunk guy we arrested,” he said blandly. “So no, I didn't contemplate having a pet before that and didn't even decide to keep her until I couldn't find a shelter that wouldn't euthanize her.”

“And now you care about her and take care of her properly?”

“Yeah,” Jellal admitted. He suddenly grinned down at Ultear. “Wanna get married? I'd marry you.”

Ultear's peal of laughter carried. “Jellal, even if I was into men, I wouldn't marry you.”

“I had to ask, you understand.”

“You're a romantic at heart, Jellal. I'd eat you alive for breakfast and be hungry again by eleven.”

“I always knew you were a cannibal.” Ultear laughed again but cut off abruptly. Jellal glanced down and found her distracted.

“Now, she looks yummy.” Jellal followed Ultear's gaze and stiffened.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“I know, right? That hair is something else.” Ultear wasn't wrong. The scarlet hair Jellal had only ever seen twisted into a bun hung freely about her shoulders.

“Yeah...” He suddenly broke his stare and coughed. “I mean, sure, I guess. That's Fluffy's vet.”

Ultear spun on him. “You named your cat Fluffy? Honestly, Jellal.”

“What? It's a perfectly good name.” His eyes slid back to Doctor Scarlet without asking his permission.

“Wow, you've got it bad. Go talk to the redhead.”

“I don't –” When Jellal looked away from the red hair that had caught in the breeze, Ultear was gone. She had a habit of popping in and out whenever she pleased. Doctor Scarlet was still standing near the base of the slope. Her fingers slid though her hair as she tried to control it.

Jellal never meant to surprise her, but that's what happened. She startled when he called her name.

“Did I scare you?” His smile fell away and his hands found their way back into his pockets.

“Uh, no.” He watched her grip on her hair tighten anxiously.

“I think I did. I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine.” She tried to smile but her lips were tight. “I just haven't been here in a while.”

“To the park?”

“No –” She exhaled heavily and released her hair. Her shoulders relaxed. “This event.” Doctor Scarlet glanced back down the hill. Her eyes held an anxiety he hated that he recognized at all.

“I skipped it for a few years when I turned eighteen,” he said softly. “It wasn't until I was in college and on my own that I felt okay about it. Not all my memories are bad.” She looked up at him and bit her lip in hesitation.

“Mine aren't bad, really. Just... sad.”

“You mentioned before that your dad was a cop.”

She nodded. “He was, yes. Thirteen is a hell of a time to lose your only parent.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It was a long time ago. The children's charity is great. I went away to college and only moved back last summer. It was always my intention to volunteer. I missed the sign up window, though.”

“I hope you'll stay, Doctor Scarlet.”

“I think I will, Mister Fernandes.” Her smile was genuine and slightly teasing.

“Jellal is fine.”

“Call me Erza, then. Do you come every year?”

“I do now. Not having a home or family sucks but it's a reality for way too many kids. A good friend of mine has a group home. She's a professional advocate. I support her when I can.”

“The world needs more of that.” The sun had long passed it's zenith and the clouds mingled with the lingering rays creating an orange and purple tint. Erza's hair – somehow – glowed even more brilliantly.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand the symphony is providing a live soundtrack to the movie.” Jellal couldn't tell if she was blushing or if the sunset was playing tricks with the light.

“I'd like to. I was supposed to meet a friend here but I haven't seen her.”

“Oh!” He took a step back. “I didn't mean to keep you from anything.” She smiled and reached out to touch his shirt sleeve.

“You aren't. I'm glad we ran into each other.” Erza didn't release his arm and Jellal stepped closer again. “My friend's boyfriend can be a crank so I'm sure she's trying to keep him entertained.”

“That's relatable. My partner is the same way. If he doesn't have a snack mid-shift, he's intolerable.”

“Do you bring him snacks?” She asked with a smile. Her hand slid down his arm and stopped at his wrist.

“No, there's a place near the station that keeps him pretty solidly in chicken nuggets at midnight and three.”

“Did you steal your partner's nuggets to earn the trust of a cat in a flowerbed, Jellal?” Erza stood at his side now, her shoulder brushing his arm.

“I might've. They were cold anyway.” He caught her hand in his and tugged lightly. “Let's find your friend. Things will be too dark soon.” She didn't pull her hand away and Jellal couldn't stop the excited euphoria from rising in his chest. Between the undeniable and almost immediate chemistry, and the atmosphere of the evening, Jellal felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate universe.

“Erza!” A voice he thought he recognized called from a cluster of people surrounding a food card. Jellal saw Laxus's head before Mirajane's. As brightly as she smiled, Laxus frowned. He gazed longingly back at the vendor pulling freshly fried corndogs from a vat of oil. Mirajane's curious eyes flit from Erza to Jellal. “I was worried I'd never find you but it looks like that worked out just fine.”

“Fernandes,” Laxus muttered with a smirk. Erza's eyebrow quirked upward.

“Do you know each other?” she asked pointing between Laxus and Jellal.

“I only spend nine hours with the guy, five days a week.” His eyes fell back over his shoulder, still mourning the loss of food.

“Oh, Laxus, you're ridiculous.” Mirajane stuffed a wad of bills into her boyfriend's hand and pointed at the cart. “Go feed yourself.” She smiled brightly at Erza again. “He's such a child sometimes, I swear.”

“I second that,” Jellal said. “You should put him in daycare, Mira.”

“So how do you know Jellal, Erza? I wanted to introduce you today but Laxus insisted I mind my own business.” She winked at Jellal and he felt the tips of his ears burn.

“He brought his cat into the clinic last week.”

“Oh!” Mirajane laughed. “I heard about the cat. How's she doing, by the way?”

“Uh,” Jellal found himself gripping Erza's hand a little tighter. “She's fine.”

“Did you name her?”

“I did.” He cleared his throat. “I decided to call her Fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” Mirajane's eyes were smiling and she didn't even try to hold back her giggle.

“It's a nice name, Jellal.” Erza squeezed his hand back. “And she is very fluffy.”

“What's so funny?” Laxus rejoined them with a corndog in each hand – he didn't look like he was about to share, either.

“It's nothing,” Jellal insisted quickly. He was saved by the stage lights switching on and the strings of twinkling lights in the trees coming to life. Mirajane took Laxus's empty corndog stick and tossed it in a nearby garbage can.

“You're welcome to join us,” she offered. “We came with my brother and sister, though, so we'll understand if you'd rather have your own space.” Before Jellal or Erza could speak, Mirajane grabbed Laxus's hand and pulled him away.

“She's relentless,” Jellal muttered.

“She has a big heart.” Erza sighed. “Relentless isn't an inaccurate description, though. Since I've been back in town she's tried to set me up twice.”

“Is it awful of me to say I'm glad none of that worked out?”

Erza laughed softly and pulled him away from the concessions crowd and toward an empty patch of grass under a tree too small for lights. “I can't say I'm sad about it.”

The grass was thick and soft. Erza sat closer than he expected but he didn't mind. A screen behind the symphony rolled downward and the crowd's noise level dropped when the movie began. Somewhere in the middle Jellal's fingers found their way into Erza's hair and it was as soft as he'd hoped. She leaned into his side and didn't stop him.

Stars dotted the sky when the movie credits began to roll. She smiled up at him and even though he hadn't ever seen her outside of her place of work before that night, he was run down by the desire to kiss her.

“Walk me back to my car before the crowd?” her voice was light but even in the low light he could see the heaviness in her expression.

“Of course.” Erza took his hand again and she didn't speak until they reached the arbor.

“Jellal –” She paused and tugged on a strand of her hair. “I like you. I know we kind of just met but I like you.”

“I feel a 'but' coming on.” He couldn't help the disappointment from settling, especially when she sighed.

“I work a lot. My job at the clinic is my first position with real responsibility. I'm not working as a sidekick to another vet and it's kind of exciting.”

Jellal pulled her to a stop. The arbor was still mostly empty but the exiting crowd wouldn't be too far behind. “Erza, listen, I had a nice time with you tonight and I like you too, but I completely understand job stuff. I've been stuck on a night shift with Laxus for way too long trying to get promoted. I get it.”

“I'm not brushing you off, and unless you're brushing me off, I don't have a problem with your shift. I work nights now, too.” She smiled when his eyebrows flew up. “The clinic is trying out a new twenty-four hour emergency service. I asked to be considered for the overnight position because I thought I could use the independent experience.”

“That's pretty lucky,” Jellal said, his smile returning.

“It is pretty lucky.” She glanced down the arbor trail. Sounds of voices were getting closer. “My car is this way.” Erza's car was actually a black pickup truck that had seen better days. She ran her hand along the side of the bed and sighed. “I know I should get a new car but I guess I'm attached to this one.”

“I kept all my PT's from the academy,” he said, smiling. “Everyone has sentimental attachment to things.”

Erza turned to him and touched the front of his shirt experimentally. He didn't stop her. “I'm really glad I found you tonight.”

“I think it was me who found you.”

“Technicalities.”

“I guess I should ask if you prefer lunch or breakfast.” She quirked an eyebrow questioningly. “If I'm going to take you out, I have to know which is better for you.”

“Breakfast is better,” Erza said quietly, sliding her hand to his side and closing her fingers around the seam of his shirt. “Lunch is my last meal before work now. I'd hate to be against a deadline like that.”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, giving in to the impulse of circling her waist with his arm. “I work for the next five days but I don't know if I want to wait that long.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Her eyes were almost level with his now and he could smell the remnants of her body spray. “I don't want to wait five days, either.”

Erza head tilted right and Jellal tilted left. His heart raced but the kiss – he couldn't let it rush by. She invaded every bit of the space he reserved only for himself and he didn't once consider stopping her.

He pulled her scrub top over her head and tossed it aside. She all but tore the buttons on the front of his uniform shirt to get it off. It would've been nice to savor the moment but he'd just come off a frustrating shift and Erza's texts indicated she'd had a similar night. She toed off her sneakers and tugged on his belt buckle.

“Do you have to wear these boots?” she whined. “They're in my way.”

“Sorry,” Jellal breathed between kisses. “It's regulation.” Her camisole and his undershirt joined the growing pile of clothes near the front door. Erza never wore the lacy bras on nights she worked but Jellal couldn't have possibly cared less.

“I forgot the leftovers from breakfast in the car,” Erza breathed, not making an effort to do anything other than figure out his belt.

“I don't care about the leftovers.” Jellal pulled the bowstring holding her scrub pants up and pushed them down around her hips. She stepped out of them and finally released the belt buckle. His boots prevented him from shedding the pants completely but he didn't need to. Erza yanked at the waistband of his underpants and he pulled off her panties.

In a breath that lasted much too long, Jellal had her against the front door of his apartment. The lights were still off but the morning sun filtered through the vertical blinds covering his patio door. Erza's arms wrapped around his neck and her thighs – that were much more solid than he'd originally anticipated – secured him against her. There was no room between them to manage anything but a smooth entrance

“Oh,” she said on the inhale and, “Fuck,” she breathed on the exhale. Erza's fingernails raked over his scalp and he shivered excitedly. His mouth found her neck and he pulled out just enough to rush back in. She wasn't quiet and he loved it.

Jellal grasped her thigh and grinned. He'd discovered that Erza had a hair trigger and didn't care for marathon sex. She was good for short bursts knew exactly how to ask for what she wanted. He'd never had such a self-aware lover before and, truth be told, long sessions were overrated. She took his lips fiercely and clenched around him. Two more thrusts and he felt like collapsing on the floor.

Erza eased her legs from around his waist and he nearly stumbled when he tried to step back.

“Your pants,” she teased. “We never got them off.”

“I forgot,” he breathed, bracing himself on one hand against the wall. Erza slid down and pulled his pants back up around his waist and stepped into her retrieved panties. “Will you stay?”

She smiled up at him and leaned up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I'll stay.”

Fluffy was curled into a ball in the middle of his bed and eyed them both suspiciously. Jellal sat on the edge of the mattress and unlaced his boots. He said nothing when Erza plucked a clean t-shirt from a folded pile on his dresser. She discarded her sports bra and pulled she shirt over her head. Fluffy showed no interest in moving.

“Do you think she's offended I'm invading her space?” Erza asked quietly.

“She'll get over it,” Jellal said kicking his boots aside and tossing the pants into his closet. Fluffy didn't move until he pulled back the blankets. Another thing about Erza he loved was how easily she fell into physical affection. She'd never stayed at his apartment before and he'd never slept at hers, but she slid through the sheets as if they'd been sharing a bed for years.

[poop4u]

The Best Exercise For a Dog is Using Its Nose

#Poop4U

Maggie, Skip, Jim and I are just back from a lovely hour-long walk this morning. All four of us were serenaded by the songs of a newly-arrived migrating birds, including Yellow and Palm Warblers.

                                             Bird photos from Wikipedia, such a great resource.

Jim and I gloried in the sights of these gorgeous birds, the French-blue sky after a day of rain, and baby leaf buds springing forth, full of life and promise and hope.

While we walked and looked, the dogs walked and sniffed. And sniffed and sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. Yes, they got some physical exercise–especially good for Skip now that he can take longer walks along with his physical therapy exercises. But mostly what they got was brain food, and I can’t think of anything more important for a domestic dog than that. There’s a lot going on between those adorable ears, and we neglect it at our peril. Using their noses engages a dog’s brain in vital ways, and can prevent a raft of behavioral problems.  Lots of interesting sniffing has been critical to keeping a just-turned, three-year old freight train of a Border Collie sane during his extreme physical restrictions. (Not to mention my sanity. Just saying.)

I was reminded of a post I wrote in 2016 titled Take Your Dog on a Sniff, and I thought today would be a good day to repeat it. There are so many people with new dogs out there, along with so many people with dogs/kids/jobs/life/pandemics taking up massive amounts of our time and energy.  The best way I know to tire out a dog out in a healthy way is not to get it physical exercise, but to give it mental exercise. Tricks are one way to do that, but letting a dog use its nose-brain connection is another. You can do that by playing scent games, or going on walks (especially in new places), and the pay off is huge. Skip and Maggie came back to chew on stuffed Kongs, and are now sleeping at my feet while I write.

Here’s the post from 2016, Take Your Dog on a Sniff:

Recently I watched someone walking his dog close to my office in Black Earth. Every ten feet or so the dog tried to stop to sniff the ground, and every time she did, the man at the other end of the leash pulled her forward so that he could continue walking. Ah, the canine-primate disconnect, which never fails to appear if we just pay attention. I wrote an entire book about this, The Other End of the Leash, and yet I’m still discovering ways in which we struggle to merge our ethological needs.

Primates love to walk, at least, terrestrial ones like humans do. Not only that, but we like to walk side-by-side with our friends, to face the world together and exchange the news of the day. While we’re walking we spend a lot of energy looking around—enjoying the view and noting what has changed in the neighborhood. Dogs, on the other hand, primarily want to learn about the environment through olfaction, a sense that we humans are better at than we think, but often pay little attention to. But how many of us insist that our dogs don’t stop to smell the roses, but walk or trot happily by our side? It is why, in Family Friendly Dog Training, I suggest that dogs define heeling as “walk slowly and ignore all interesting things”. This photo, by the way, is Susannah Charleson’s Search and Rescue dog Puzzle, with Susannah in the background. (If you haven’t read her books yet, you’re lucky–because now you get to. Don’t miss them, they’re great.)

Dog owners aren’t alone in ignoring the olfactory needs of animals. Birte Nielsen and colleagues published an important paper in December of 2015 titled “Olfaction: An Overlooked Sensory Modality in Applied Ethology and Animal Welfare.” They argue, compelling, that we do animals a disservice by not acknowledging the impact of odor on their behavior and wellbeing. These odors can both cause suffering or improve lives. Jenna Bueley, DVM, found that air captured from a busy, stress-filled urban veterinary clinic increased stress-related behavior in dogs, reported at the 2012 IFAAB conference. Clark and King, noted in Nielsen’s article, found that olfactory stimulation increased behavioral diversity and activity levels in captive black-footed cats. But note… the same study found that odors had little effect on the behavior of captive gorillas. Ah, that primate thing again.

You don’t need me to tell you how important smell is to a dog. None of us are surprised that years ago, Bradshaw and Lea found that the vast majority of a dog’s interaction with a new dog related to olfaction (1992). But I think we all, me included, need to be reminded of how much “going on a walk” can be defined by us as “walking while looking and perhaps talking,” while to a dog, “going on a walk” means moving from one interesting smell to another.

It is important, but not natural, for us to acknowledge the essential nature of the sense of smell. Examples of its importance abound: Wells and Hepper (2006) found that day-old pups preferred the scent of aniseed if their mother’s food had contained it while they were pregnant. Think about that—it means that dogs can learn to associate emotions, and thus behavior, with a particular smell even before they are born. (Breeders take note.) It also appears that the perception of scent is lateralized in the brain in dogs. Sinischalchi and colleagues (“Sniffing with the right nostril” 2011) found that dogs preferred to use the right nostril when sniffing new scents, and switched to the left when the scent became routine, or non-threatening. Dogs who smelled arousing stimuli (adrenalin, sweat) never switched to the left nostril. Since the right nostril is linked to the right hemisphere of the brain (it’s an exception to the usual switch, left eye to right brain for example—if that stopped you for a moment, it did me too…), this suggests that olfaction in a dog’s brain is lateralized, and that the sympathetic HPA axis (hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal, or “on alert!” axis) is primarily mediated by the right hemisphere in dogs.

[Addendum added in 2020: And now we now that a dog’s nose can sense heat. Who knows what else they can do with their noses!]

This all circles around to the title of the blog: Take your dog on a sniff. I’ve written before that dogs need autonomy to be truly happy. I’m arguing here that what they most need is the freedom to use their noses. That is easy for us who can walk our dogs off leash. But leashed dogs need owners willing to compromise—an invigorating primate walk with our dogs trotting alongside part of the time, and the rest includes the dog getting, finally, the freedom to go from scent to scent and all the stimulation and information that entails.

Full disclosure: I’ve been good for years about letting my dogs stop to sniff when we are walking on leash, but lest I sound smug, guess how many photos I have of my dogs sniffing something? Three. Only three. That’s compared to literally hundreds of photos of my dogs playing together or with toys. Ah, that primate thing again. (Happy to say I updated that this morning, in May 2020, when I took a lot of sniffing photos.)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Skip is progressing by leaps and bounds, and we got a green light from UW physical therapist Courtney Arnoldy to give him a bit more freedom. Here she is working on weight loading Skip’s back right leg through a series of exercises that we replicate in the garage. (I watch on FaceTime, can’t go into the building. The photo was taken by assistant Haley, who was invaluable in keeping Skip focused while Courtney set up some of the exercises.)

Half of our walk this morning was with Skip on a long line rather than a short leash, so he got lots of time to trot rather than just walk fast. I’ve tried letting him off leash for a brief period of time and it’s pretty much what I thought it’d be: Two seconds of Skip standing still, and then exploding as if out of a rocket for twenty strides–the time it takes me to say Stand! and call him back to me. It’s just impossible to ease a young dog into getting a graduated amount of exercise, but I’m doing the best I can. Our next PT appt is next Monday, and I have hopes that his leg will be sound enough that I really can let him run for a few minutes without causing a set back.

Here are the dogs wearing out their brains while we listen to the birds.

  If you follow the blog you know I love to cook, and I’ve done even more of it since Jim and I are staying Safe at Home as much as we can. Saturday I made the dough for these cinammon date rolls, and Sunday morning I got up early to make up the rolls and let them rise a second time before baking. (Or, “proof” if you’re British, says the woman binge watching The Great British Baking Show over and over and over again) . They look pretty good in the photo for sure, but I have to say, they taste even better. Healthy? Uh, nope. I’m making amends by making a lovely chicken/asparagus dish tonight, but I just picked fresh rhubarb and I have this recipe for rhubarb cake that is out of this world . . .

    Friend and kick ass photographer Stephn Dahlgren came out to the farm last week to take some more photos. We haven’t seen most of them yet, but here’s one of Nellie, who, of course, managed to photo bomb what had been a great opportunity for a Trisha/Skip photo in lovely light. Nellie is highly displeased that twice a day I have to keep her out of the garage to do Skip’s physical therapy. She is making it clear by ripping the hell out of the wooded frame to the garage door, the message being clear: This is MY GARAGE. CAN YOU NOT READ THE SCENT MARKS AND VISUAL SIGNALS?

I hope you are hanging in there during this challenging time. As a dear niece said to me recently, “We’re all in the same storm but in different boats.” I hope your boat is keeping you afloat safely and without too much suffering.

Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com Trisha, Khareem Sudlow