#ive been using babble which i feel helps

[handsomegentlebutch]

I'm so jealous of ppl who can speak other languages. How does it feel to be so galaxy brained? I've been struggling to learn Spanish for years now 😭

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

[loveandmurders]

You belong to Ambrose IV (Poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Alright, I was supposed to post this a lot sooner but life got in the way. It's finally here, and I hope you'll enjoy it like you did with the other parts.

This is the final chapter of the "You belong to Ambrose" series that you can find in my House of Wax masterlist.

This is the direct continuation of last chapter, that you can find here.

Warinings: no proofreading, mentions of murders, violence, sexual desire, very morally grey reader, angst/kinda comfort

A part of you wanted to let the Sinclairs win you over. But another part of you wanted to believe you were a good person. And a good person couldn’t love murders, especially not the murders of their own friends.

You wanted to get away from their touch, but the twins were too touch and love starved to let you get away from their hands that easily. They were both trying very hard to stay calm, because they didn’t want to scare you off. But truth to be told, they had no idea how long they would be able to keep it together if the love of their lives kept pushing them away.

The front door opened and Jonesy left the three of you to run greeting Lester. You were thankful for this distraction, especially when Lester called his brothers’ names, surprised to not find them in the living room or in the kitchen. He knew they couldn’t be sleeping, not when things weren’t fixed with you.

“Comin’” Bo replied.

The twins got up and they helped you doing so as well. You clearly couldn’t go back hiding in your room now. They gently guided you downstairs and Bo settled in the kitchen to fix something for you. You greeted Lester without showing any expression on your face. You weren’t too sure what to do. Lester shyly smiled at you and moved a hand behind his neck, as his eyes drank in the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N. Ya lookin’ real beautiful, ya know. I thought so the second I saw ya. Ya’ve always been pretty, but now, ya’re just as perfect as a goddess.” Lester said. He had always been the one showering you with nonstop compliments. 

“Thanks Lester.'' you simply said, as you didn’t want to seem to enjoy the sweet words coming your way. 

You sat at the kitchen table with Vincent and Lester.

“And it’s really nice to have ya back home, because your absence was all drivin’ us quite crazy. It was hell actually” Lester softly babbled again, because he couldn’t help when he was around you.

“You all seem to have done pretty well without me” you tried but the three men exchanged looks. They really hadn’t.

“We’re talkin’ ‘bout ya all the time, ya know. I think ya’re our favourite subject of conversation; the only one we can have without arguin’. We always agree we want and need ya back home” he admitted which made the twins groan but they didn’t stop Lester from talking. It was good that one of them was that straight forward about their feelings for you. Vincent even hoped it would help relax you around them.

“Ah yes?” you couldn’t stop yourself from being a little bit curious, and flattered about it. “Don’t see what you can talk about though” you hummed with a shrug. But Lester quickly shook his head

“Ya’re the girl of our life, so of course we’ve got a lot to say ‘bout ya” he brightly smiled and you looked away, feeling yourself blushing.

“Didn’t know Bo rubbed on you and you became a sweet talker yourself” you replied to hide your emotions. Vincent snorted in amusement, Bo arched an eyebrow at you and Lester blushed as well.

“Just speakin’ the truth” he defended himself and you hummed. “We never stopped bein’ in love with ya. Never stopped thinkin’ ‘bout ya.”

You all stayed silent after that, but it wasn’t as tense as before.

You thanked Bo for the food and ate, lost in your own thoughts. You could feel the boys watching you, but you were used to it. You had always been the centre of their attention. And you used to enjoy this very much. You could really pretend that nothing happened, that you never left Ambrose. You knew the three men around you would like that very much. Especially when for the moment, they had to keep their hands to themselves.

They all wondered what you were thinking about but they didn’t want to upset you even more than they already did, not when your relationship was on a thin line like that.

The more you thought about the situation, the clearer you realised you were mad at them because they killed your people. Your friends deserved a happier and softer ending. You were quite heartbroken still. And you knew it was your fault too. 

It was your fault because your fate has always been to get back to Ambrose and you should have come on your own. Destiny wanted your road trip to end in the Sinclairs’ arms, and it was certain the brothers wouldn't leave anyone around you. They were jealous and possessive beasts. You hated how conflicted your emotions were: you were mad at the brothers and at yourself, but you were also very relieved to be there. You were home. You were where you belong. You would forget about your friends soon enough, once the guilt would wear off, like it always did. You weren’t such a good person, and you knew it.

And yet, you were the brothers’ angel, perfection, goddess.

You kept thinking and you realised your mother was a “problem” in the not so planned Sinclairs’ objective of having you back. They could kill your friends, but they couldn’t kill your mother so easily. And she would notice your absence, and she might call the cops and tell them about Ambrose if you went missing for too long. And your dead friends… You couldn’t believe how impulsive the brothers had been. You weren’t too surprised though; they couldn’t think straight around you.

“You really are idiots, sometimes” you whispered but they heard you. They were relieved to hear you talk to them.

“Why that?” Bo asked

“You killed everyone but… what’s the plan for my mother?” you said and the boys exchanged a look. 

They had talked quite a bit about it earlier that day and they didn’t know what to do. Their priority was having you, but they were aware they would need to deal with this as well. And quickly, before they could lose everything forever.

“What do ya offer?” Bo asked and you chuckled

“Not my mess” you replied and he frowned

“Ya didn’t tell her anythin’ earlier. I know ya’re on our side” he pointed at you “Ya ain’t wantin’ to admit it but ya’re happy to be in Ambrose again. It’s why ya came so close by. Ya were just afraid we’d kill ya or hurt ya, but now ya see we only want ya back, ya want to stay” he said and you hated how close to the truth he was. You refused to acknowledge his words as you bit on your bottom lip.

“She knows about Ambrose and she knows about my road trip with my…” you sighed “She knows. She’ll worry, she already started to do so.”

“This is indeed a problem” Vincent agreed

“But ya wanna stay, right? And don't wanna anythin’ bad happenin’ to us?” Lester asked you, giving you his best puppy eyes.

You looked away and didn’t say anything at first. Of course you wanted things to be alright for once in your life. 

You had often dreamed of that moment and it always ended the same: or you killed your mother or you killed yourself. You never thought it would all become true though. You had never thought you would truly be back in Ambrose with the three men you loved.

At least, you knew what to do. It was as if you had planned all of this from the start. Or maybe it was just the Devil whispering to your ear.

“I… I’ll need some time to forgive you all for what happened to my friends” you said

“And we’ll do anythin’ ya wanna” Bo hummed and you believed him

“I know. And yeah I’m happy to be back. And I never stopped loving you all either” you admitted, feeling a little bit shy about it. You didn’t look at them, but soon enough your were pulled into their embrace. Bo had been the first one to react to your words by getting up and grabbing you for a big hug. Vincent and Lester soon joined in. You relaxed into their warmth. You all felt complete once again.

“There is only one way” you whispered “We need to fake my own death. I mean like something official. My mom must believe the police found my body and that she buried it” you finally said. You leaned away to have a better look at them.

They reluctantly let you go as they thought about your words.

It would allow you to resume the only life that was meant for you, without anyone to look for you. Your mother would have never let you get back to Ambrose and now that your friends were dead, it was only making things even more complicated. If you all disappeared, it would be alright.

You knew there would be no coming back from this though. Once you would be no one, you would never be able to get back in the real world. You would be stuck in Ambrose forever, with the people you loved. You would finally be yourself again. A part of you was aware you were choosing over Hell, but love isn’t soft. Love is destructive, consuming everything and everyone until nothing is left. You were finally feeling alive again.

“The next tourists who come here, we violently kill them, we break their teeth so they can't be identify and we put them in your car. We drive far away, where you were supposed to be, and we burn everything down.” Bo quickly found a plan

“We need to be certain…” 

“Don’t worry, darl’. We deal with this.” Bo assured you with a charming smile and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shit happens and it’s not necessarily linked to Ambrose” Vincent signed, knowing you were worried the police would find the place

“My mom will accuse you right away” you replied

“I’ll make sure the cops won’t find Ambrose” Lester smiled at you

You wanted to trust them with that. You knew they were smart and resourceful. And it was about you, it was about your future together. You could trust them. They were going to protect you, they were going to keep you all theirs again, they were finally be able to be happy again too.

You finally nodded “Okay, then.”

You took your phone from your pocket and handed it to Bo. He would be able to use it if he needed to. And he would be able to destroy it too. You were handing the brothers your life, like they had given you theirs a long time ago. Bo cupped your face and softly smiled. You saw his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“Nuh nuh, still mad at y’all. You have convinced me to stay, not to be your girlfriend again” you said as you moved away from his touch. Both the twins groaned at yours words, but they respected it. And they were going to do anything to get you back like before.

Once you would allow them to touch you like they used to, you knew they wouldn't stop kissing and pleasuring you for quite a while. They were hungry for you. Lester was cheeky enough to believe he would be the first one to get back in your good grace.

You all stayed silent a little longer. You were thinking you were crazy, but you were so calm about all of this. It felt right, no matter how wrong it was. 

Lester brought you back to reality as he took your hand in his, his eyes bright with happiness.

“Hey, Y/N, welcome home!”

---

Taglist: @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @thatbitchanna27 ; @robin-the-enby ; @i-like-horror-andshitt ; @cecilwritesstuff ; @delusion-is-convenient ; @artificialintestines ; @sugarrush-blush ; @crypticlxrsh ; @g0thl3zz ; @katerinaval ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @limehaspassed ; @sillylittlereader ; @mommymilkerfanclub ; @oranedgp ; @mottysith ; @partlyvee ; @gorewhore123 ; @mrstargayen09 ; @aesthetic-bitches-tum ; @mfnqueen1 ; @etheralrue ; @nanami-kento-simp ; @bluekuu ; @excusemyrandomramblings ; @fluffy-little-demon ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @domoron ; @narcolepticduck ; @partlyvee ; @mushroom-weeb ; @peik0s ; @dumblittlebunbun ; @mottysith ; @iwantsleepplz ; @lolwey ; @02006 ; @k1swass ; @the-human-dumpsterfire ; @thelxiapeia ; @instantpenguinkid

[becoming-less-than]

Soo like in the last two weeks or so since my last post Master has like made a few umm… new rules for me to like follow. Like the first is that I have to like only use words with six or less ummm sound shape things or less. Which is like kinda hard and totes takes a bunch of effort to like keep my words that small. The loss of ummm like bein able to like say umm the like exact right thing I wanted to is like totes vexing but Im like def gettin the hang of it. Ive gotten like better at ummm knowin that this is just the way girls like the ones I like aspire to become talk and type so Imma keep workin on it. Ive found I have gotten pretty good at ummmm… findin ways to make words fit and say what I wanted to. My second new 4ever rule is that I have to like use “like” and “umm” and other bimbo speak where I can to like make me sound dumber and stuff. And let me tell you it really does. I feel like I totes ummm babble like a ditz more cuz I have to like ummm talk around big words and ummm hard ideas to like get my points out. It’s like totes a… umm… trial(?😅) to get my ideas out and like on a page any more. If feel like such a dummy and like a total air head talkin this way but it seems to like make Master happy, and the ummm… shame(?😅) of being … ummm less this way is like totes hot and has me takin edge breaks like more often than I like ever woulda before. It’s perf and while I like totes feel shame it’s so fuckin hot.

Like beyond my new rules Master has like kept me edgin and only cumin when he like tells me to, to lock in a like new part of my training. Master is totes ummm… helpin me learn and like umm… intuit(?😅) the truth of the fact that I’m like his needy little bi cock slut now. While helpin to umm make sure I like keep umm… bcumin the dumb ditzy bimbo slut and cow pet I’m like meant to be. It’s like been hard bcuz of work and life but like I’m the stress there just makes me like crave this more and more. The like sweet sticky foggy feelin lasts a bit longer, I’m findin it like harder and harder not to like edge when I’m bored, I like find my self here on tumblr any time I have a spare second just to like find more inspo… I’m umm… gettin away from who I used to be two months ago and like totes can’t wait to see where things go from here! 🖤

Thank you Master for all you’ve done to help me become a bit more of the silly stupid bimbo slut and needy good girl and bi cock sleeve I so want to be! I hope this makes you happy and all the people readin it too! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

As always asks and DMs are welcum just follow the rules!

[thefemeleon]

hello radblr i hate to sound stupid on this website but i need genuine advice/opinions from actually women and lesbians and this feels like the only place to get that lol.

TLDR: i babble on about experiences that make me wonder if im a deeply traumatized lesbian or just disappointed in being bisexual

for context i am a detrans gnc woman and the word i would use to describe my experience at the moment is bisexual.

now here’s the part where i talk about my experiences. please be honest, if i am just bisexual, i am just bisexual. but i do want to get a kind of consensus i guess. i hate being bisexual, genuinely. i have a strong internal bias against bisexuality that i just can’t seem to shake. i wish i was only attracted to females, but im not and that pisses me off so bad. as a kid i had few crushes on boys but it did happen. i’ve always had ssa though, it’s been prevalent my whole life. in hindsight looking back i wonder if i struggle to understand the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, specifically when it comes to how it can differ with sex. i have autism, and it makes it extremely difficult for me to identify and differentiate what im feeling. I’ve had “crushes” on men, but i can’t help but wonder if it’s more the happiness i get from male friendships, from the validation. when i’ve dated men, i feel unsatisfied and unfulfilled, often finding myself thinking we would be much better as friends. i hate having sex with males as well, it’s a chore to me and tends to be painful. i usually just endure for the sake of my male partners. the annoying part to me is that i believe i am sexually attracted to men (in theory i guess), i just don’t like having sex with them. maybe i haven’t found the “right man” or whatever. i have experienced a lot of sexual trauma at the hands of men and i can’t help but wonder if that’s shaped my sexuality today. ive dated women before, and it was better, except for my failing mental health at those times. i want so badly to be with a woman, to be in a relationship with someone i can understand and who can understand me. not only to escape misogyny (which is a big reason i don’t like to date men), but i also just find women more attractive. i like having sex with women, it doesn’t hurt and it’s fun, something i look forward to doing. i’m in a relationship with a man but i plan on ending it. i just refuse to settle for something that doesn’t benefit me, no matter how good he is as a person.

that was all a very roundabout way of saying i’m not sure anymore about the nature of my sexuality. there’s so many factors, so i’m reaching out to the radfems for advice. i apologize about this being TMI, but i felt like all the context is necessary lol. feel free to reblog, i want more reach than i have currently. i’m also happy to elaborate more.

[houndfaker]

rahhhh i haven’t felt like drawing for it (i miiiight after work today?) but i have some teams picked out for the p3 pokemon au and i feel like babbling about them since ive been replaying heartgold. under da cut. a lot of the team configurations are based on a mixture of persona parallels and just vibes.

femc/kotone/minako/etc

I’ve literally redone her team a million times because I’m never satisfied with it but i forced myself to compromise on this particular configuration (she’s probably got a ton in her pc though. members that didn’t make the cut include bewear, raticate, musharna, dragapult)

blaziken represents orpheus, and duskinoir represents thanatos. the remainder are more like “i think she’d have these”. storywise in particular, plusle is a childhood pokemon matching with yuki’s minun (the protags are twins in this au as always).

yukari

these are pretty outright i think. decidueye for the obvious archery reasons (have joked that i think it’d be cute if yukari’s decidueye actually used to be very poor with its aim until she started helping it practice)

miltank being (sort of???) representative of io, and togekiss being (SORT OF???) representative of isis. (there are only so many cow/bull pokemon and a few of which im reserving for other teams)

the rest are mostly vibes based! porygon in particular is a pokemon passed down to her from her father after his death. she has a very tight bond with it.

akihiko

magnezone represents polydeuces and golurk represents caesar

the rest are mostly vibes based. aki comes off as the type of trainer who would literally fistfight his pokemon as training. his pachirisu was his sister’s first and only pokemon before she passed.

mitsuru

ceruledge represents penthesilea. empoleon Somewhat represents artemisia.

she has somewhat noble/rare pokemon to fill her team. gardevoir is a reference to her mild navigational abilities (it would be kinda funny if she was mildly psychic like sabrinabut to a lesser extent). indeedee is a pokemon she picked up at a young age, one of the first few she caught herself.

fuuka

fuuka is a coordinator as opposed to a trainer, so her team isn’t super battle-capable. lapras and musharna are meant to sort of rep lucia/juno.

i dont have heavy thoughts on her selection but i think quagsire is very close to her.

aigis

this is one of the teams that has a great number of members that relate to her personas. bastiodon, escavelier, and iron valiant are meant to represent palladion/athena. silvally is pretty much a perfect fit narratively as a partner for aigis. ninjask is there because well i think she likes it. pikachu is a match with the rest of the moonlight bridge quartet, each having an electric mouse pokemon

she’s still a robot btw. scarvio is my enabler for that being a thing within the pokemon universe

BONUS ONES THAT ARENT FOR SEES (i have not made teams for all of them because the bestie is in charge of everyone else)

you knew this was coming

kikuno

kikuno has a number of mons matching to mitsuru’s (they caught their indeedees together, for example, and gallade to gardevoir and whatnot). noctowl dodrio and lycanroc because i think she’d like them. rotoms various forms i imagine are a helpful aid for housework, and they match one another in Mischief.

chidori

I think chidoris are pretty self explanatory. very vibes based. tauros/houndoom representing medea. mesprit because we’ve been imagining each member of strega being in possession of a member of the lake trio.

labrys (she’s here too yay!!)

this one i actually wrote a compact little list for LMAO

zorua - her illusion abilitiesss

bouffalant - asterius

haxorus - her axe

aegislash - unit 024

furfrou - snowy

pheromosa - ariadne

dats all for now. we have loose plot concepts in mind but nothing concrete enough for me to explain here

[uhh-nerya-i-guess]

Hi

im nerya, or am i.

im a computer science student and i make music as a hobby.. sometimes. or at least i used to? i suppose? i havent been able to make anything for the past year or so.. well thats beside the point. im introducing myself. lets make this upbeat!

im new to tumblr so please be gentle with me, no i did not come from twitter, that is a forsaken place that i shall never set foot in, rather i did not dabble in social media until this point. i decided tumblr would probably be the best place, since i heard yall are quite weird and i like that

ive been reading some category theory books lately (specifically The Joy of Abstraction by Eugenia Cheng) while learning haskell. its been quite a joy, pun intended, i would definitely recommend

ive had an account for a bit but i decided to finally post on here because ive been flooding my friends dms with random babbling, which i do not intend to stop doing, but i think the world might enjoy them too!

funny how tumblr marks "tumblr" as a typo

my current gaming obsession is celeste, (celste :gladeline:), the mods are just so good.

lets uh throw out the part about being upbeat for a moment bc i need to rant. so uh time has been feeling faster and faster lately.. like weeks feel like days and months feel like weeks and everything is just happening so fast. is this normal? am i normal? hopefully so. did i post here before actually? i think i mightve made a "first post" before.. oh yeah i have adhd. anyways yeah time. time is fucking weird, like life has been changing a lot recently and theres a lot of stuff going on. i kind of feel like an outside observer to my own life someties yknow? like everything is happening while im not doing anything and that feels weird, like im watching a movie, i want something new. and that one time i had a haircut and then not recognized myself in the mirror for a sec DOES NOT help me with that feeling.

speaking about adhd i wrote the tags? tag? in the middle of writing that previous segment god help me

uh god that was a rant, uh im not gonna advertise my stuff here but i do stuff occasionally so if dms are a thing here feel free to do that.

[anthraxplus]

I don't know enough about music to ask interesting interview questions, but would you want to like explain your artistic process for how you have made your albums? Like how long did they take to make, what's your starting point? this is a totally optional ask I just thought it would be interesting to hear about something you're interested in

ty for the ask! i feel like the answers to these questions are sorta hard for me to answer tbh because i really did just stumble into this, at least thats how it seems to me.

for baatmoia, id say it took me roughly 9 months to make from beginning to end, but i dont know when i really consciously started working on it. the concept of "making an album" was something i was essentially challenging myself to do, seeing as ive been making music for a long time and only sparsely released a smidgen of it under a different project. they were also the first songs of mine i ever wrote and recorded lyrics/vocals for, which was another challenge for me. as for the construction of it (continuous mix) thats just something i like doing with mixes - my favorite albums have A Flow to them, and i liked making it so that you couldnt have clean delineations between when songs began and ended. thats also part of my mindset behind obscuring my vocals so much, which in turn is just an expression of wanting to make an album that felt dreamy, hazy, ethereal, formless. thats also what i did for baatlnoyl, but for a different reason. i operated a lot on "vibes" for both albums since i didnt really have any other metric (and i still dont), which tbh i like because i think it helps add a very personal feeling to everything.

baatlnoyl is inspired by a dream i had, also took about 9 months(ish), and was directionless for a long time until i was a monthish away from my self imposed deadline. in this dream, i fell in love with a character of that dream and i woke up before i could really tell them. and after trying to use that dream for inspiration for one song in particular, i realized the idea fit with a sort of "call and response" i had noticed with everything else i had written (a lot of repeating motifs). so like, after 8 months of working on this, the album turned into a sort of nonlinear story about that kind of experience and what it would feel like for both people after the dream ended. i wanted this one to be noisier and harsher, but also more expansive in genre (the shoegaze/etc focus on baatmoia was also a self imposed challenge). technically speaking, a couple songs on here have been on my backburner for years, but they finally found a home here (most of it is still brand new material though). i still feel like this one isnt fully complete - i skidded into that deadline and i think it shows. im planning on fixing it up soon to hopefully actually make it the way id like to keep it.

im so sorry if these answers are like disjointed and rambling, its hard for me to explain because so much of the entire nature of these albums was "intuitive," doing something because i Simply Wanted To, because It Felt Right. if i tried to explain every component, i think itd very quickly turn into incoherent babbling. but thank you for the interest in how i make these!!

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi, writing motivation anon! 🩵

i am talking about fanfic, yeah! i dont think all the self help books in the world would help me with original fiction lol its just really frustrating because if i dont force myself, at least a little bit, i will literally never write anything, even though i want to so, so badly. if i dont want to do something nothing in the world can get me to without like immediate and detrimental consequences if i dont do it, even when they're things i do actually want to do? i have so many plots just collecting dust and its killing me not being able to do anything with them, and the thought of giving them away gives me major ick, but i just cant bring myself to actually write a sentence of any of it anymore.

i used to do a lot of partner writing and it is fun but i get a little too distracted to be productive with it, not to mention my social circle is practically non existent at this point. ive done the work on forming good habits and bettering my environment and working on my mental state and while its definitely improved a lot of other parts of my life (which i am not complaining about even though i kind of want to just to do it - taking actual care of yourself, it actually works. who would have thought? crazy), it hasn't penetrated the motivation wall yet.

i think one of my main issues is the perfectionism. i think its mostly subconscious because i dont really realize what im doing until trying to write becomes too frustrating to keep trying. ive never been good at rough drafts and fine tuning and reworking, like if its not to subconscious perfect standards i cant move on until it is or i give up entirely. im not sure how to get over that. its like if its not done right the first try, i immediately feel like its a failure and a worthless endeavor that isn't worth the effort. i think a lot that has to do with other people's perception of my work as well, like its totally fine (not really) for me to have an unfinished doc sitting around that only i can see and wallow over, but if i power through, finish it, and post it than suddenly its out there for so many people to pick apart and see where i, and the fic, am lacking. its scary, i don't know how i used to put myself out there like that before.

sorry this got really long winded really quickly. i wish my yapping capabilities would extend to writing, but unfortunately its a talent only useful in terrorizing fellow humans with walls of words. absolutely tell me to fuck off if im babbling entirely too much for you lol

Hi!!

I completely understand the perfectionism thing. Have you tried writing microfics? Sometimes I find them easier, especially when I’m stuck, because they’re small and less to take on at once, you know?

Sending you all the good writing vibes!

[grasslandgirl]

ANON HAS ME IN A MOOD! 2 FOR LAURENTMAKOTO

i love you so dearly i am blowing kisses to u

presumablyh this is in reference to this fic asks list i reblogged earlier?

2: What scene did you first put down?

this is actually an easy answer! i have two emails i sent myself late at night back in june when i first started conceptualizing keiko fic right before your birthday with the early drafts of the first scene from the fic and the scene from the end where laurent and makoto are at the restaurant!! mostly i wrote chronologically, but i remember having a really clear idea for the restaurant scene right before i went to bed and wanting to get it down- hence the emails to myself the night before i started writing the fic itself!! <3

ill put the screenshots and id's below the cut but ty for sending in the ask <3 its fun that keiko fic has a more clear and demonstrable answer than most other fics ive written, for which the answer would probably just be "uhh probably the first scene. i had an idea and i started writing." skfjnskfjbs

[ID: two screenshots of text on a white background. the first reads:

Makoto didn’t imagine being a father. 

Well, technically that wasn’t true. Makoto Edamura’s stopped dreaming about being a dad- about having a family- when his father went to jail. When he was a kid, his mom always said he was just like his father. Makoto  remembered standing in the living room, dinner burning on the stove, as he and his mother watched the television in baffled horror. The truth of his father’s actions falling into a pile at their feet as the grainy footage showed him being escorted into a police car over and over again. How could he ever dare to dream of having a family, after knowing how many families his father had broken apart- including their own. 

besides, all the garbage trauma tied up in his dad aside, Makoto was an aspiring former con man- he didn’t lead a life or have friends that suited children. 

So even if he could never stifle a smile when he passed a park full of running, screaming children; or if he sometimes dreamed of clipping a little cat clip into a little girl’s hair; or if the one time he saw Laurent flirting with a young mother, sweeping her babbling infant out of her arms and pressing a brief kiss to its head with a luminous smile- it didn’t matter. None of it did. 

Because it was less that Makoto didn’t imagine being a father, and more that he couldn’t afford to imagine it. 

the second screenshot reads:

“Wait.” Makoto puts his fork down. Then he puts both his hands on the table, leans forward and skewers Laurent with a glare as forceful as he can manage while not knocking over the ridiculous wine he bought for the table. “Is this a date?”

Laurent’s smile is studied and careful. But Makoto can read him well enough to see the twitch of his eye and the tremble in his fingers as he flexes them once, twice, atop his napkin. Makoto knows him well enough to recognize the rare signs of nervousness on Laurent. 

“Darling,” he answers with an oil slick grin. (The pet name makes something hot seize up in Makoto’s stomach that has nothing to do with dinner or the wine.) “We’re raising a child together. We’ve been living together across the globe for years. I bought you the most expensive wine on the menu-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Makoto grouses, interrupting him, because he refuses to make anything easy for Laurent- even this. If that’s what this even is. 

Laurent’s smile grows, and he inclines his head in indulgent acquiescence. “Makoto.” Makoto’s eye twitches, an involuntary tick in response to Laurent using his given name, instead of one of his stupid nicknames and pet names. He can’t decide which he prefers. “Would you like a ring? Would that help you feel more secure?” Laurent’s tone is light, with the same manicured artifice he brings to every con. It’s so pristine that it’s hard to see the man beneath the confidence; but Makoto can. 

Makoto does. 

Beneath the teasing and the flirting is a genuine question. A genuine offer- to buy Makoto a ring. And abruptly he’s stuck with the scale of it all: their life together. That behind every word, under every smile, between every gesture and con and secret and stupid fucking nickname has been this: Laurent asking for Makoto to stay. Asking for them to have a life together. Proving that this- Makoto- is something he wants. 

But because Laurent is Laurent, he can never say anything straight out. He has to make it into a puzzle for Makoto to solve. (Thankfully, Makoto is very good at solving Laurent’s puzzles.)

And because Makoto is Makoto, he can’t let Laurent get away with anything that easily. 

Makoto leans back, lets an easy shark’s smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he says, in answer to Laurent’s question. “It would.”

Under the table, the tip of Laurent’s shiny expensive-ass shoe drags up the line of Makoto’s ankle. He does his best not to squirm under the abrupt heat of Laurent’s smile. God. Fuck. He’s made a terrible decision. End ID.]

[bunnies-diarys-blog]

Long post:

Dear diary,

Sometimes I feel like a bad person about being annoyed by friend when they bring up they're trauma. They say they can't help it but it's like it's all they talk about. My friend (who we'll call) Phoenix always brings up they're trauma with out fail. They have been in foster care, group homes, abused by they're bio parents, mistreated by they're foster parents, and have diagnosed anxiety and manic depression. Which is fine more than fine but they bring it up all the time like it's all they can talk about. It's they're only personally trait. We were at a friend's house and Phoenix couldn't make a pot of Ramen noodles because all the friend had was metal utensils to cook with. Phoenix would start freaking out that they're mom would yell at them for using a metal fork on a pot we weren't at they're house and friend said it was fine and nothing bad was gonna happen. It took us 20 minutes to make Raman noodles because of they're constant freaking out. They also sometimes make it a competition about who has the most trauma. Once my friend "James" was talking about his ex and how his ex had lived in a run down trailer with the roof and walls coming down and all Phoenix could say was "well i had to live in a houes that actively comming down" and all this babble about how bad they had it. Or if someone wants to just be like "yah ive been really down lately" Phoenix will chime in a be like "yah i have chronic depression" ...OK? And? It isn't even like I know how you feel thing I'm going through the same thing...thing. it always have to be about them and how traumatized they are. I don't know if I'm being insensitive or what? I'm trying to sympathize because I know what they've been though (because they wont stop bringing it up) but I don't even know Phoenix's favorite color or food but I know that they've been in the system since they were 7ish 8. I don't know if I'm the bad friend or I'm just being insensitive but it really drives me up a wall. I understand copping I understand stand that everyone handles trauma differently but it's hard to sympathize when someone is showing off they're trauma like a new sports car or pokemon card

I just don't know what to do. I'm doing some self reflection and I'm trying to see if I'm the problem I just want to be a good friend and I don't know how to voice this to them without sounding like I'm belittling what they've been though

What do you think diary?

Bunny

[harlivy-timkon-supremacy]

hey can i ask what yj related comics you've actually read besides yjdc? ive seen you say youre doing research which is cool but does that include reading like. the actual source materials (yj98 and teen titans 2003 even. maybe even yj2019?)

I feel like this came across a little mean spirited buttt 😅 I'm going to answer it honestly anyway.

Yes I have read the OG YJ series! A few times. I've barely read any of the Teen Titans series yet, however. I also bought the YJ2019 series recently and was going to reread it soon since it's been a few years. I started really getting into comics hardcore in 2020 and rereading old comics I liked as a kid, and now I'm known by name at my local comic bookstore because I'm always there buying comics weekly 😂 so if I forget a detail here or there forgive me, I'm often reading multiple series at the same time.

If this is about the positive YJDC stuff I've been posting I do want to clarify that I don't think YJDC managed to capture the ✨nostalgia✨ of the 98 series at all and I have SO MANY complaints about what I think they did wrong, (including but not limited to OC characterization, what even was Kon's personality here lmao, the weird plot, lack of support from side characters, ect) but I've seen all of its glaring sins pointed out everywhere and didn't think I needed to add obvious fuel to the fire 😂 but maybe I should to prevent comments like this (honestly no hate this is the funniest burn I've ever gotten in my life and I'm being mocked mercilessly in my group chat for it) 😂 😎🔥

But for real I just wanted to say one thing I did unapologetically like from YJDC was how it did dive head-first into the more unflattering subjects of a series written by old sexist, racist & homophobic white men in the 90's, and addressed them, which I think has made all of the Core Four ( and Cissie ☺️ ) closer then they've ever been (by the end of issue 6 anyway)!

I can see how this series, despite it's **many** problems, was used by DC to finally air out or readdress some of the YJ's crew 'dirty laundry,' so to speak & address how the whole timeline business has murked up what is and isn't Canon. Which is what I expected.

Cannot clarify enough though that most of this series was a dumpster fire but I think Issue 6 really ended on a high note in terms of how all of the characters really viewed one another by the end of the issue, and how much of the group's friendship meant to everyone individually. (Also liked it for how it could help setup future Timkon & Cassie x Cissie)

But I totally agree it didn't feel like a good "successor" to what YJ98 was and is to people, myself included. Although again, I expected that going in. Mostly I've just been simply babbling about what I liked about the series and my hopes for how it will now allow us to get content from DC that's more like what we actually wanted in the first place. And I will continue to write about things I like going forward ✌️☺️

[kitmoas]

The Chronicles of a Sweet Toy

A Training Grounds Mini Series

Summary: The sweetest side of Toy makes everyone around them melt. (Insert a squishable super soldier)

Warnings: Ageplay (Think that's it, let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: This has been a long time coming, and I'm super excited to put out these drabbles. I'll be posting one every day for a week.

***Minors DNI***No Smut rn but this is an 18+ Universe***

| Vol. i | Vol. ii | Vol. iii | Vol. iv | Vol. v | Vol. vi | Vol. vii |

You’re shivering under the blanket, cuddling the new stuffie that Daddy just got you. It’s a red Dino with a wiggly thing on his back, you giggled when your Mommy dramatically named him King Wiggles. Your tummy was hurting and you were freezing, but you were watching Natasha run around in circles panicking. She had mentioned a fever, but you didn’t understand. How could you be hot and cold at the same time? 

The ginger is in the kitchen now, after turning on the television for you to Paw Patrol, mumbling something about her father and soup. A whimper leaves your lips when she yells across from you to take your thumb out of your mouth, “Germs detka, that’s why you’re sick.” 

Zuma is swirling around in water on the screen and it makes your head hurt, you shove your fists in your eyes trying to stop the pounding. You try to focus on the soft sounds of the ginger cooking, but breathing starts to get hard and frustrated tears start filling your eyes. Hiding under the blanket away from the sunlight helps a little, but you want Mommy to use her magic and fix you. The thought of the witch makes the heavy tears start streaming down your face and before long you’re sobbing loudly, coughing aggressively. 

You can hear Natasha’s voice trying to sooth you as she rushes to finish your food, but you’re starting to panic now. Trapped in the blanket and you can no longer tell where Wiggles is, you start flailing around missing the opening of the elevator. You try to stand up, wanting to be closer to your Daddy, but your legs are tangled in the blanket and the moment you try staggering towards the kitchen you’re falling. A rough shriek scratches your raw throat but you never hit the floor, instead your overheated face is caught by a soft body. It’s the cool metal that is against the side of your head that makes you immediately sink deeper. 

Natasha is rushing towards you, her eyes wide as she stares down at you curled up on top of Bucky. “Are you guys okay? Little Toy, Daddy is here.” You barely acknowledge her, instead turning your head to rest fully in the crook of his cold metal elbow. “Bucks, are you okay? Did you..you jumped over the couch?” She’s looking around the area now, noticing the cushions are all fallen and the fact that he’s now awkwardly laying on the ground. 

The soldier chuckles, rubbing his free hand over his face, as he looks up at the widow. “I just got back from a meeting and this silly doll almost fell trying to come to you, just tried to keep them safe.” He’s blushing now under the appreciative look he is receiving. The widow knows that he’s always been really interested in finding someone like her little toy, but he’s yet to find anyone that clicks. “I can hang with them while you finish up. I think they like my arm.” 

Natasha lets them be, watching for a moment as she walks away as Bucky slowly stands and sits with you curled up in his arm. It’s about two episodes of Paw Patrol when the ginger finally walks back into the living area with a tray of soup, crackers, and sprite. You’re babbling around Bucky’s fingers, which are now in your mouth, as you try to tell him about the show. A gentle tap on your head gets your attention and you look up to see your Daddy smiling at you, “Little Toy, what did I say about fingers? Hmm?” She’s touching your head and the back of your neck, seemingly satisfied for now with the temperature she feels. “Did you like hanging out with Bucky?” The widow watches you put the cool arm back on your forehead, cringing as she knows you’re still slightly warm. 

Struggling to nod, “Uh huh, can I hang out with Mr. Robot again?”. You innocently look up at Natasha with a smile. She pushes the soup in towards you a little, and you happily start eating the dinosaur shaped pasta noodles. 

You miss the look shared between the two Russian soldiers, but it’s Bucky who leans forward. “Well little robot, if you wanna next time we hang out we can build you your own arm?” Your excited nod makes the two smile. 

Natasha sighs, sliding to sit next to you. “Don’t let your Mommy know I’m letting you get a vibranium arm, okay?” She winks at Bucky as she steals one of your crackers. The sound of Chase and Marshall fighting crime in the background as the two Avengers settle into casual conversation. 

Tag list: @simplysimping999 @8bitscarlet @simpfornatasharomanoff @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @theperfectlovestory @katebishop-ladyarrow @widowbitessting @uraveragequeer @didujustcallmedumb @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ali-lie

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 11

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: Child birth, language, tooth aching fluff

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one  thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a     family, right?

AN: Two updates in a row! (Unedited) Now the taglist is officially closed now that we only have the Epilogue left. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me, let me know what you think! much love, Cia

Chapter 11: A PowerPoint, really?

Morgan called outside the door for more nurses as soon as he heard what you said. Soon 3 women are rushing into the room, one of them clad with a wheelchair. You look at Morgan as they begin to load you in the chair. 

“Derek, call Garcia and tell her to come with my emergency birth bag, then call Dr. Lizzie and tell her the baby is coming-AHHHHH!” You screamed as you were being wheeled out. Contractions, as they turn out, are the worst feeling ever. 

Garcia is barging into your hospital room not long after that baby bag in tow. You kept an extra one at her place just in case you went into labor when the team was out on a case. “I drove just about 90 mph to get here. How are you feeling, mama bear?” 

“Like Satan himself is putting me on a spit roast.” You grunt through clenched teeth. 

“Think of the bright side you’re about to give birth to the cutest, most intelligent baby.” Garcia says. “Plus Dr. Liz told me I need to keep you calm so let’s do your breathing exercises.” Garcia starts huffing in syncopated time in order to get you to follow. You scream in her face. “Ok, so maybe not.” 

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” Dr. Liz says, in a joyous tone as she sweeps into the room. “Let’s take a look at you.” 

“Thank god! Lizzie, I need epidural. Shoot me up, Doc.” You groan from the pain. 

“So someone is a little more eager to meet the world than we thought. It’s too late to safely administer epidural. You’re going to have to go natural, kid.” 

You look at her wide eyed. “WHAT?!” You shake your head. “I-I can’t.” 

“You can, Y/N.” Penelope says. “You can squeeze me as hard as you can.” 

Tears start to fall from your eyes from the combination of pain and loneliness you felt. “I can’t do this, I need-I need Spencer.” 

You hear the door opening. Spencer walked in pushing an IV still attached to his arm, other one draped around Derek’s shoulder as he helped him walk in. Once Spencer was next to you and leaned against the wall, Derek and Penelope stepped back to give you and Spencer privacy in your moment. 

“Alright, you’re crowning. It’s time to push so next time you have a contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.” Dr. Liz says, you nod. Spencer is pushing some of your sweat matted hair out of your forehead. 

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 

“I told you I’d be here for you, for this.” He says, grabbing your hand letting you squeeze around his palm. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Spencer, I--AHHHHH!” You say, pushing. Your hand tightly squeezes around Spencer’s who despite how rough you must look right now is looking at you with the utmost awe and admiration. Dr. Liz gives you some words of encouragement as you breathe waiting for the next contraction. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know, Y/N. I know.” He says, hand running through your hair. 

“No, I need to say it. Spencer, I’m so in love with you. I love you so much, I’m sorry I kept hurting you but I need you. I love you--AHHHH!! I take it back, I hate you! I fucking hate you for doing this to me!” 

Spencer kisses the hand you’re squeezing. “I love you too, Y/N/N. And I know you don’t mean that. It’s actually fairly common for all mammals giving birth to feel disdain towards their partne--” 

“SHUT UP!” You yell as you push. “I usually love your facts but right now, shut the fuck up!”  

“You’re doing great, mom. Just one more.” You hear Dr. Liz shout over your screams. 

They don’t tell you this in any book, Doctor’s appointment, or  mommy and me class but for a moment even though it is a fleeting moment. There is a stillness in the air where everything is silent and you are only snapped out of it at the sound of your baby’s first cry. Everything else from the cheers to Spencer cutting the cord is drowned by the sound of your baby loudly entering the word. 

Your baby. 

They place her on your bare chest and your arms instinctively wrap around your most precious being. You coo as the baby continues to cry the fluid out of her lungs. She’s covered in blood and goop but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Suddenly the thing you’ve wanted for so long was finally here and she was everything and more than what you thought, the perfect manifestation of you and Spencer’s love for each other. 

Genevieve Rosalind Reid was born early November 10th. Given the name Genevieve after the song, Lady Genevieve, you and Spencer loved so much and Rosalind after famous female scientist Rosalind Franklin. 

Not more than a couple of hours after the rest of the team is slinking into the room to get a peak at the baby, bearing gifts and congratulations to you both. Spencer managed to negotiate with the doctor to at least have a bed moved into your room so if they were going to make him lay and rest at least he could be near you and the baby. Soon, one by one the team starts leaving the last being Penelope who Derek had to haul away with him. You turn to Spencer once they’re gone. 

“I love you, Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared.” 

“I know, Y/N. I love you, why were you scared?” 

“I didn’t want to lose you with my selfishness. Genevieve needs you more than I do, I didn’t want to sacrifice her having both parents because I couldn’t control myself.” 

He reaches across the aisle between your beds for your hand which you stretch to him as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says looking you in your eyes. “I would never abandon either of you. I love you, but no matter what happens between us, we’ll make it work. For Genevieve.” 

“For Genevieve.” You repeat back.  

------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been about 9 months since you had Genevieve and you and Spencer we’re still going strong. Though the first couple of months were difficult with Spencer being injured and having an actual newborn to care for. You were still better than before, Spencer made things better. Genevieve was perfect and looking more and more like Spencer with each passing day. In fact, it seemed the only trait she did take from you was a wild stubbornness and love for Disney movies. 

You were out walking Genevieve in her stroller when you got a call. 

“Hey Spence. What’s up?” 

“Hey, where are you?” You hear over the line. 

“I’m walking with Gen in the park.” You say. 

“Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on the corner?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “Sure, get me a cold brew.”  

You push the stroller into the coffee shop ten minutes later and walk over to the corner table you and Spencer have deemed yours. Your daughter is already fussy and making grabby hands for Spencer, who smiles and scoops her out the stoller. 

“Hey, Bug.” He says, sweetly as your daughter smiles brightly at him.

“God, she’s such a traitor. Instantly forgets I exist as soon as she sees you.” You say, as he hands her back so you can put in the high chair for lunch. You’re opening her banana and pears baby food when you notice it. “Why do you have my laptop?” You ask. 

“Well, open it.” 

You give Spencer a weird look before handing him the food to feed Genevieve so you can open the laptop. Your heart stops for a second as you read what’s on the screen. 

“A PowerPoint, really?” You chuckle. “Spencer, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Marry Me.” He says, looking up to look you in the eyes. 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Spence.” You chuckle, wetly. “And you thought a PowerPoint was the best way to ask?” 

“Well, I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” You say, chuckling at the memory of your first friendly encounter. You take the food back from him. “Well, show me what you got.” 

“Okay, Reason #1, You love me.” You laugh, nodding as he goes to the next slide. “And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Spencer…” You said, swooning slightly. 

“#2, I’d be a great husband.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” You say, chuckling. 

“Have I given you any indication that I wouldn’t be?” 

You smile and shake your head no. 

“#3, I have a ring, a very pretty one that Garcia helped me pick out and it’s yours if you say yes.” Spencer says, that makes you laugh loudly because of course she did, no wonder she’d been acting weird at work for the past couple of weeks. “In all seriousness… Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’ve loved since you brought me to this coffee shop more than a year ago and asked me to make the best decision of my life. You are my best friend, the mother of my child… I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share my life with. So..” Spencer takes that moment to stand to kneel down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Please.” 

The tears that had been threatening to fall since he started were coming in full swing now. You nodded fast. “Yes! 1000% yes!” You exclaim. Spencer takes that moment to slide the ring on to your finger as you hear the faint applause from the bored baristas in the empty coffee shop who have gotten to know you both over the years. Spencer sweeps you into a deep kiss, that you can barely stop smiling for. You pull apart when you hear Genevieve start to babble in her highchair, reaching for the two of you. 

“Oh, come here, Bug.” You say, going to pick her up, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t stand not being the center of attention, huh?” 

“Well, she is her mother’s daughter.” Spencer chuckles when you level a bored expression at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He says, starting to pack Genevieve’s stuff back into her stroller. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asks. 

You think for a second. “How’s Wall-E sound?” 

Spencer smiles when he hears you say the first movie you watched together. That was the night he knew for sure that he was going to marry you someday. You didn’t know it yet, but Spencer did, and he was rarely wrong. 

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” He smiles, as the three of you walk out of the coffee shop, a newly cemented family.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​ @no-honey-no​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @chenlemure​ @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​ @tclaerh​ @k-k0129​ @takeyourleap-of-faith​ @trashyhipsterfangirl @haylaansmi​ @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead​ @waspyyy​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @octaviaxanadu​ @whxt-to-write​ @meowiemari​ @b99andsoc​ @boba-king-iroh​ @punkndisorderrly​ @richardrosejpeg​ @underratedmisfit​ @gredvb​ @criminalminds4days​ @fanfictionislifetho​ @justpeachykeeeen​ @kopfkinomind @moonchildkei @appleblossoms-posts​ @urguardiandevil​ @cm-imagines-07​ @ajeff855 @reidsconverse​ @isknowplaces @ashwarren32​

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[justthehiddleswrites]

Anesthesia | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Tom suffers a serious car accident and the reader is the nurse on duty in the ER. Tom and anesthesia don't mix and Tom acts very out of character. Can Tom regain his composure or will he continue to shamelessly flirt with the reader? And is Benedict going to work all of this to his advantage?

Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Anesthesia Makes people act crazy, Tom quoting Shakespeare

-

“Tom?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered, and he blinked several times, adjusting to the bright white light.

“Nurse! He is waking up!”

Nurse? Waking up? Tom reached out and cold metal hit his hands. Safety rails. The air was cool, dry, and sterile. As he attempted to sit up, he felt a cold air hit his bare back.

“Hey buddy, lie back down. You gave us quite a scare,” the familiar voice reassured him as he lowered himself back down to the bed.

Tom turned his head to the sound and once he saw Benedict’s face he smiled. Ben smiled back.

“Welcome back to Earth, Tom.”

“Thanks, what happened?”

The last thing Tom remembered was climbing into the stunt car to rehearse the big action shot. After that, it was just flashes of fire, screams and sirens.

“The brakes failed and the stunt coordinator doesn’t know what happened. But the important thing is you got out alive.”

Tom attempted to sit up again and felt winces of pain throughout his body.

“What was the damage?”

Benedict looked down.

“To you or the car?”

“The car… of course me! I feel as though a Mack truck hit me.”

“You are not far off. You broke your clavicle, wrist, and a few ribs. Um… lacerations everywhere and a… a ruptured spleen.”

Tom twisted to see his friend’s face better and felt the stitches and bandages strain. He winced at the sharp pain on his left side. Benedict hit the call button and in minutes, the nurse arrived.

She smiled as she approached the bed.

“Feeling pain?”

Tom nodded.

She looked at your chart before adding some pain meds to Tom’s IV.

“That should do. I would suggest lying down and the doctor should be in about twenty minutes.”

Tom thanked her and couldn’t help but notice her gazing over her shoulder as she left the room. Her smile barely contained her giggles. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Do they know who I am?”

Benedict averted his eyes and rose from the chair, feigning interest in the generic artwork on the wall. Tom narrowed his eyes at the clear avoidance of the question.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Oh boy, you don’t remember anything when you got here, do you?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, what happened?”

“You were in a lot of pain. Tell me have you ever been under anesthesia before?”

“Maybe, once or twice…” Tom questioned, but then he stared his friend down for answers.

“What did I say, Ben?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Sit down and tell me, and I will decide if you live or die.”

Dejected, Ben returned to the chair and let a sigh out.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

Four Hours Earlier

The gurney burst through the ER doors just fifteen minutes after you started your shift. Emergency room shifts are never boring but physically and emotionally draining. You put down your cup of coffee and headed in to assess the patient.

A man lied, groaning on the gurney. His face covered in scrapes and blood staining his ginger whiskers. His left wrist sat at an unnatural angle and his shirt cut away by the paramedics to administer help.

“Car accident,” the EMT relayed, “stunt gone wrong.”

A specific hazard unique to Los Angeles. They wheeled him to the examination room and put him onto the bed with care. He wore a C-collar, but the jostling stirred the man. His eyelids fluttered open and his blue eyes work to focus on his surroundings.

“Hey…” you looked down at his chart, “Tom. How are you doing?”

“Pain.”

“I know you are in pain, but where?”

Tom gestured to the left side of his abdomen.

“Okay.” You grabbed some morphine and added it to his IV. “Any allergies?”

He shook his head.

“Anyone come with you?”

As if on cue, Benedict pulled back the curtain.

“I did.”

You recognized the man standing before you. Benedict Cumberbatch was quite the movie star.

“Really?” You attempted to keep your cool. This was no time for fan girling.

Within minutes, Benedict could communicate the information about not only the accident but Tom’s medical history as well. It had all been on file with the production company.

The doctor came in and did a quick examination.

“We need to get a CT scan and X-rays. Looks like there may be internal injuries.”

You nodded as you prepared to wheel Tom down the hall.

“Ready to go for a ride?” you asked.

Tom nodded and gave a goofy smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N. That’s a beautiful name. My name is Tom Fucking Hiddleston.”

The drugs were doing their job.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. We will take you for some tests.”

“But I didn’t study!” he sounded dismayed.

You could not suppress your laugh.

“I think you will be fine.”

Tom grabbed your hand and looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

“Will you help me study?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Tom continued to babble on for the rest of the trip to imaging. He spoke about how nice you smelled and how pretty your eyes look. The full court press of flirting. As you reached the room, you and the other nurse lifted Tom onto the machine.

“Here you go.”

Tom grabbed your hand once again.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared of the dark.”

While his words spoke of her fear, his eyes and smile said something else.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hiddleston?”

His smile only grew.

“Is it working?”

You leaned in to his ear to whisper, “No, but the drugs are.”

Tom pouted.

“Not fair.”

“But you are cute.”

His face lit up once again.

“I came, saw and overcame.” Tom was being dramatic.

At that point, the other nurse started up the machine, and you walked away to let the rest of nurses to care for his needs. After his scans, you headed back to the waiting area. You found Benedict pacing the floor in anticipation. His long fingers alternating between steepling in front of his face and raking through his hair. As you approached, you cleared your throat.

“Yes?” his voice shared a tone of concern and hopefulness.

“A few broken bones but the big thing is that his spleen has ruptured. He needs surgery right away.”

Ben’s face fell.

“Will he be okay?”

You nodded.

“He will make a full recovery. Would you like to see him before they send him in to operating?”

You led Ben back to where they were prepping Tom for surgery. The anesthesiologist added drugs to the IV and Tom was now in a full hospital gown. His tattered rags of clothes in the garbage.

“No fair!” Tom bellowed as you entered with Ben throwing the thin sheet over his legs. The two of you shared a knowing look, “You have seen me naked but I have not had the chance to see you naked.”

You leaned into Benedict.

“It would seem that the medicine does not agree with your friend,” you smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I rather like him like this, so not proper. So not Tom Hiddleston.”

You smiled as you looked upon Tom who, in vain, tried to cover his body. Even loopy on drugs, he charmed and warmed your heart.

“I will leave you to it.”

As you turned to leave, Tom shouted at you.

“I love thee, Y/N. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not withstanding the poor and untempering effect of visage. And therefore tell me, most fair Y/N, will you have me?”

You suppressed a small giggle.

“I will see you later,” you let them both know as you shut the door.

As soon as the door latched, Tom grabbed Benedict’s arm and pulled him down close.

“Ben! Ben! Have you met my wife?”

Benedict screwed his face up with confusion.

“The nurse? That is just the drugs talking, Tom. You barely know her.”

“Nonsense. She will be my wife and you shall be my best man.”

Benedict looked at Tom with an exasperated face but Tom’s only contained earnest. With a chuckle, Benedict conceded.

“Very well, Tom. I will be your best man.”

Tom slapped Benedict’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. As my best man, I require you to acquire my future bride’s number.”

Benedict could not resist at this point to play along with his friend’s drug-addled fantasy.

“I will, on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Name your firstborn after me.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then consider the number yours.”

Tom’s face beamed and as if on cue, the nurses came to wheel Tom into surgery.

***

“Oh dear, God. I quoted Shakespeare.”

Tom hung his head and his face and neck turned a bright shade of red.

“Yep. The Henry the Fifth wooing speech too. Honestly, it was one of your better performances. Might I suggest doing all your roles drugged from now on.”

Tom shot Benedict a withering look.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I can’t show my face to her again.”

At that moment, the door opened, and you entered. The color drained from Tom’s face, while the smile grew on Benedict’s.

“Y/N!” Benedict cooed, “We were just talking about you. So nice of you to stop in.”

Your shift ended half an hour ago, but you wanted to check in on Tom before going home. Today was not the first time a patient hit on you, although they are usually not an award-winning actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare. But, you would remain ever the professional. You checked the chart before wishing the two men well.

As you turned to exit, Benedict walked you out.

“Thank you, Y/N for attending to Tom.”

“My pleasure. Even under the influence, he is quite charming.”

Benedict took this opportunity.

“Speaking about that…”

3 years later

“Tom!”

You yelled down the hall of your London home, beckoning your husband. At six months pregnant, getting up and down was no easy task. Tom rushed to your side. He gave you his arm and with a rocking start; you extracted yourself from the chair.

“Thanks, darling.”

“I am at your beck and call.”

You rubbed your swollen belly as you waddled your way down the hall. Tom followed you to the kitchen.

“Now about names for this little young man here.”

Tom grew ashen. He thought he could avoid this conversation, but it seems his luck had run out.

“Yeah, I have I mentioned today that I love you.”

Tom kissed your lips, and you looked at him with distrust.

“What have you done?”

Tom smiled and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.

“I may have promised to name the child after Benedict.”

Tom flinched.

“You what? Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Which was?”

“Your phone number.”

With that, Tom took off down the hallway. You smiled as you walked with much effort behind him.

“We are NOT naming our child after breakfast food!”

You heard Tom’s laughter fill the house.