#And since I wasn't there my brain keeps telling me well what proves to you what she's gone?

[mali-umkin]

.

[mercy-burning]

…I Wonder

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!

———

ACT I: If I Had A Baby...

The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.

It was a start. A shot in the dark.

By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.

He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.

I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.

What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.

The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.

"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."

Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.

I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.

It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?

Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.

He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."

Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?

So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.

Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.

It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.

At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.

I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...

That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.

And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?

I hated even thinking about it.

And then there was the first paycheck.

Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.

Payment completely slipped my mind.

And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."

Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."

He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.

At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.

I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."

"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."

I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.

He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.

ACT II: If I Was A Lady...

The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.

Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.

It was a day, and night, I would never forget.

Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.

"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.

"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.

"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"

He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."

"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."

"Mmmm."

I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.

Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...

In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.

I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.

He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.

The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.

His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.

It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.

That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.

He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.

"We can't ever do that again."

"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.

"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."

"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.

"You should go home."

"Okay."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Thank you."

I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.

After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.

I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.

I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.

Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.

I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?

He texted back almost immediately; All is well.

It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.

Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.

I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.

Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."

There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."

"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."

"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."

"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."

"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."

Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.

I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.

"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.

I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."

"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.

I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night."

I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.

Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.

"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.

"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."

I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.

Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.

Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.

"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."

He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.

But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.

"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"

His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"

We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.

Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.

"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.

"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.

"Of course," I agreed.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"

"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.

"It really does! Do you want to come see?"

"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."

Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."

"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."

He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?

He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?

Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."

"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."

I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.

His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.

He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?

It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"

Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."

I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.

I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."

And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.

ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.

I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.

I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.

It scared me, but also deeply excited me.

Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.

Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Happy Birthday!"

He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.

"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"

"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.

As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).

"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.

So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."

I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"

The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"

"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."

As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."

The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...

To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.

I decided to spare him the wait.

"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."

"Really? No eggshells?"

I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."

Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.

Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.

He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.

I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.

"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"

He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."

"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."

I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.

"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"

"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."

"I love you, Auntie Y/N."

I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."

ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.

The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.

Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.

Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.

His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.

"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"

"My birthday was yesterday..."

He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.

"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."

I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.

"You're not my dad."

Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."

The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.

"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."

The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.

I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."

"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."

"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.

"Well?"

"I want to be yours."

He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."

And then he kissed me.

He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.

I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.

"God, I love the sounds you make..."

His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.

I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.

Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.

I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.

Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.

I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...

With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.

Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"

Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."

"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."

A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.

"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.

His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.

Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.

I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.

Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.

I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.

"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.

"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."

My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.

"Please."

The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow me."

And I did. I always would.

As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.

Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.

He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"

"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.

"You're not complaining are you?"

"God, no."

"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.

Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.

"Is this okay?"

I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."

Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.

No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.

Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.

His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.

"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"

My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."

"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.

Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.

"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."

All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.

He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...

"Never better," I responded earnestly.

"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"

"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.

"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."

I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."

"As you wish."

The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.

Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"

Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."

I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.

"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.

I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."

I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.

His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.

Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.

And he was making me come. Hard.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.

"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."

Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.

His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.

Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.

I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.

Oh, my God...

I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.

His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.

"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."

I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.

Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.

The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."

"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."

It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."

Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.

It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.

His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.

"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.

Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."

I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.

I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.

CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.

Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.

It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.

I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.

I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.

"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.

They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.

"Will you be my mom?"

Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.

Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.

Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.

"Yes."

THE END.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Insatiable

AN: No one asked for this but the Butcher brain rot is crazy and i can't stop myself. Alas, I couldn't resist so welcome to the madness. Anyway, I went insane and absolutely wrote a devoted piece to this man. Jesus help me.

Warnings: dub-con (use of sex pollen-ish mind control), smut, fingering, language, and Butcher is a warning in and of itself.

MINORS DNI Below the cut

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

The admonition echoed in the habitat of Butcher's Cadillac like a bird's call. Even the sound of leather on leather, as the man sitting beside you slowly turned to examine you, wasn't loud enough to get the stupid ringing out of your head.

This had all started off like a bad scab you thought was healed but wasn't, and now it was bleeding all over your favorite pink pull.

Hughie and MM had uncovered a rightful piece of Temp V hideout; a Supe's mansion on the Upper East Side who, just happened, to be throwing one of his renowned "XXXchange" parties for Supes and their pets (this was how it was described on the e-vite MM hacked).

This Supe, still unknown to everyone because he kept the mansion under a random woman's name, was supposedly a Seven-in-the-making, as Hughie put it. If he could prove himself, he was next in line for a comfy beige seat in the Tower. So hence, him keeping and distributing Temp V to teens and young adults who didn't know any better.

So what had been Hughie's grand ol' plan? Bring you in. As the newest Supe member of The Boys, no one had yet seen your face. No one even knew of you. You were a low-level "barely considerable" Supe...as Butcher had put it the first time he blew the hinges off your front door.

Your power wasn't really a - well, a power at all. It was mostly an advancement, an intellectual add-on, or a sixth sense. You could read lies. More coherently, because someone with a beard and a giant stick up his ass didn't understand correctly--you could tell when someone was lying.

You weren't really an attribute to the team when it came to brute force. You left that up to Annie and Kimiko. But you had your perks, and since you were still under Vought's radar, you could slip through the cracks and get intel for the Boys.

Now why was Butcher with you, the most notorious Boys' member? Well, one might say he was eager to see your 2-hour fight training in practice, but really, it was because he "didn't trust a dumb twat with highly sensitive information and tech". His words.

So he'd garnished a Tommy Bahama blouse with pink flamingoes and palm trees and a matching set of swim shorts, sunglasses, and a stupid bright pink bucket hat that was way too small for his big ass head.

And now here both of y'all were, headed to the Upper East Side, dressed like a hooker and a pimp. Annie had insisted on this get up, a tiny, tiny pink skirt, a white bikini top, and a pink cover up with flip flops to finish off this fucking look. Because apparently, no one would let you in if you weren't A) a Supe and B) not dressed like a House Bunny.

"So you're tellin' me," Butcher drawled as the New York skyline darkened, "that your bare pussy is suction-cupping my leather seats?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm sitting at an angle."

Butcher slapped the wheel. "You should've told me earlier!" he laughed. You frowned in return when he swivelled that giant head of his towards you. "Come now, if you're not wearing panties, why should I, eh?"

"You wear panties?"

He hummed, regaining control of the road as the car slipped passed the last townhouse to enter Mansion Ville.

"I like you, little Truthteller," he mumbled to himself. "Thought you were a bit worthless at first, but you might just prove yourself tonight!"

You didn't dare answer the last bit, instead focusing on the details Annie and Hughie gave you before you flip-flopped your way into Butcher's passenger seat (and did absolutely not suction-cup his leather seats).

The idea was to go in and place a few bugs in and around the mansion in key locations. You could try to figure out who the Supe was or even find out where he stashed his V, but it didn't matter. The Boys would find out over the bugs.

The mansion Butcher parked the Caddie in front of was like a cookie-cutter version of the 90s PlayBoy mansion.

"Alright, love," Butcher sighed, killing the engine and stepping out, rounding the nose of the car to open the door for you. "Give 'em a nice peek of that minge, eh?"

You blushed from head to toe, a torment of fire assaulting your skin until Butcher caught on and chuckled low in his chest, helping you step out the car with his hand.

You still hadn't gotten used to the crass words that could tumble out of his mouth like vomit.

He guided you to the entrance, where a man dressed in black boxers and a black neck tie asked for your invite number, which you recited from the one Hughie gave you.

Then he asked, "And which is Supe and which is pet?"

You blushed even hotter. "Um." Your throat got sticky and dry all at once. "I'm the Supe and he's my... um, he's my-"

"Her pet," Butcher interrupted with a wide smile, the sunglasses hiding the glint in his eye that was surely showing. That ridiculous bucket hat made him look almost two heads taller than you as he bent down to whisper in your ear, "bark, bark."

You groaned inwardly as you lead him into the foyer, where a sprawling staircase lead to a mezzanine and a mahogany banister and a wide archway gave way to a mess of bodies in the living room.

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning away from the onslaught of legs and arms and slithering bodies like a pile of snakes.

"Oh, nuh-uh," Butcher chuckled, grabbing you by the shoulders, steering you right into the mass of party-goers, moaning and groaning and thrusting into one another or bouncing on top of each other like mad dogs. "If you want to play the part, you have to look the part." His mouth was right next to your ear, and for some reason, the breath caressing your skin sent a slowly gliding shiver down your spine.

Why was this happening?

You felt the flesh melt where his fingers lay, clutching at your shoulders, pulling your coverup off of you.

"Butcher," you said, stopping his hand.

He shook his head. "Show them what you got, mama," he whispered again, the rough of his beard tracing against your cheek. He scooped the coverup off your shoulders and threw it across the room, leaving you in your bikini top.

Butcher had never seen you so exposed before. You'd always worn pants and t-shirts around the safe house, so watching all that bare skin available to his hungry eyes flipped a switch in his head.

A woman, tall and elegant, cream skin and sultry black eyes, approached you before Butcher could do something stupid. He straightened up, lifting the sunglasses from his nose.

"Miss, look at you," he cooed.

Miss was naked. Someone had left a bite mark on her right breast, just above her peaked nipple. She was so long-limbed and beautiful, and the sight of her naked body made you turn away instinctively.

"I like you," she said, voice low and husky, like a purr.

"I like you too, sweetheart," Butcher answered, the heat of his body completely leaving you as he zeroed in all his attention on the naked, wanting lady before you.

She huffed. "You're great too," she answered, and when you turned, her lascivious brown eyes were settled on you. "But it's her that I want."

Butcher gasped and then erupted in laughter, taking the bucket hat off his head and putting it to his heart. "Woah, I never imagined I'd see this in my lifetime."

The other woman smiled slowly and you gulped. She was pretty, but she was also not part of the mission.

So you back-peddled.

You put a delicate hand to Butcher's arm, digging your nails into his skin, and put on a lovely, sweet smile for the offering girl. "That's nice of you," you said, voice sultry like a wet candy cane. "But we're more interested in watching." As you said this, you dropped into your act as best you could, mustering up the strength not to blush but to play the part of the sex-obsessed Supe.

She brightened up at this, gesturing to Butcher. "Well I could fuck him while you watch," she suggested.

Butcher's body tensed up against you and he turned to you. "Please say yes," he mumbled.

You smiled, throwing him a glance. "Both of us are watchers," you corrected, watching as she bowed her head, a lustrous gleam in her eye.

"It would've been a pleasure," she said before walking away.

When she was climbing onto another woman's lap, Butcher grabbed your bicep and brought you into a corner, sheltered in the dim lighting of the room, smothered under the moans and groans and the sloppy sounds of...intercourse.

"You were this close to fulfilling a fantasy of mine," he groaned, and when you looked up, he looked more angry than turned on.

"We're not here so I can watch you have sex with a woman, asshole!" you gritted between your teeth. ''We're here to plant bugs and find some V."

He huffed, rearranging his Tommy Bahama. "I'm obeying just because you're wearing this outfit," he grumbled, following you as you led them into the next room.

A kitchen, stock full with boxes of canned beverages and food platters.

"Okay, here." You pointed to the dinner table in the adjacent room, a teakwood marvel that surely housed a few meetings or two.

Butcher expertly placed a bug under the table.

You meandered safely through the house, planting bugs in various living rooms, meeting rooms, and spare bedrooms. Whenever some couple or lone masturbator dedicated their attention to you both, you pretended to watch, Butcher enlacing you in his arms.

It's only then you noticed how tall, how big this man was. He was easily dwarfing you by just standing there, your head against his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your exposed spine.

When the onlookers would pass, he'd chuckle as you pushed him away like he was a booger wall.

But the more you traveled in the house, the more people seemed to stare, wanting, questioning. So you ended up holding Butcher's hand, at his command: "Wouldn't want the lovely ladies stealing you away, eh?"

And hand holding turned into his arm around your shoulders, the tip of his very long fingers ghosting your breast.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered in your ear once he'd bugged up the toilet.

"Ew, no."

He sucked his teeth. "I mean," he gritted, pushing you up against a wall when a man with a considerably large strap on made his way towards you. Butcher bent down, squeezing the breath from your lungs as he grazed his mouth on your bare shoulder. He pressed a featherlight kiss, all while observing the passing man, dragging his lips up to your ear. "We should go bug up the rooms, eh? Maybe see if we can find this cunt's V supply?"

You nodded, a wicked shiver pebbling your flesh.

Butcher blew cold breath onto the thin line of saliva he'd left on your skin. "Cold?"

You swallowed hard. "Let's just go."

He chuckled as you grabebd his hand and led him back to the stairs, galloping up to the second floor.

Truth is, you'd never imagined Butcher like this. He was so arrogant and he loved to make people jump out of their skins by how uncomfortable they were with him, but you'd chopped it up to the old chip on the block; Butcher pushing people away to keep himself safe.

So when the Boys had initiated you, you'd figured it'd be best to steer clear from this tyrant of a man. He was way older than you anyway, and he was always calling you every name in the book except your government given one. And he was always dismissing your ideas, so you'd always assumed he had an image of an immature little girl in his head.

But he'd dreamed of you more times than he cared to count. The messed up parts of his brain, where most of it was left behind in his old life, conjured up hauntings of you every night. Of those soft, plump lips whenever you'd eat cherries. Of your legs in your pajama shorts and your giggle when Kimiko signed something stupid. Of that perfect little body of yours.

"Okay, in here." You interrupted his chain of thought, the one that was going to crash into a puddle brains that would eventually leak out of his ear.

You lead him into a room, which turned out to be some kind of antechamber with a hearth and a giant portrait of a small, bald man.

"He looks like a mouse," you muttered.

But Butcher froze, tearing his hand away from yours. "Oh, fuck me," he groaned, putting his sunglasses and hat onto the low table. "That's the fucking Seducer."

Your skin crawled. You turned, examined Butcher's expression as he leaned against the far wall. "This cum guzzler is the one trafficking V?" he thought to himself, just as you asked, "who's the Seducer?"

Butcher turned to examine you across the room, lit by a few lights in the sconces. "He's the world's number 1 date raper," he answered, frowning. "This guy can intoxicate the female species into a mad heat, like dogs."

"What?" You frowned.

Butcher walked a bit closer, turning his head to watch you out of one eye, like a bird. "Yeah, he secrets this hormone on a whim and boom, bitches go mad for his dick."

"Oh." You swallowed, turned to push the handle of another door, leading to a darkened room fit for a king. "I think this is his room."

Butcher muttered behind you, "Lucky guy if you ask me."

"Trouble getting women, Butcher?" you asked absentmindedly as you entered the dark room, lights from the lawn outside filtering milky-white through the windows, illuminating your path like a trail of snow.

Butcher followed, closing the door behind you. "Not really," he answered, immediately pulling cubbards and drawers open. "The ladies love me."

"Oh, yeah I bet," you muttered, pulling open the wardrobe. A loose floorboard creaked loudly and you froze, turning to meet Butcher's eye.

He scrambled to where you stood, pressing on the floor and repeating the awful creaking sound.

"Pants jizzer must be keeping the V under his floor," he mumbled, pressing until at least 6 floorboards rose from the ground on one end, a whole door to the underside of the Seducer's floor.

"Bingo," you giggled, helping Butcher pull the damn thing open. But there was nothing there, only an empty black space that could've fit maybe two people, gaping at you like a dark maw. "He must have transfered them," you whispered.

"Or he's trafficking other things," Butcher replied darkly.

Just as you were about to close the floorboards, a loud thud rang out in the antechamber. You froze, listening, until a feminine giggle made you and Butcher lock eyes.

"Get in," he whispered, motioning to the black pit under your knees.

"In here!?" you whispered tightly.

Whoever was on the other side was making their way towards the room, painstakingly, and this was not the place you and Butcher needed to be found.

"Yes, fuck, get in," he insisted, and your heart thudded so loudly, so harshly against your throat you thought it would burst right out through your chest.

Shaking, you got into the little space, falling onto your back because you couldn't see where this thing ended. As soon as you got your hair out of your eyes, Butcher was tumbling onto you, closing the floorboards a millisecond before the bedroom door burst open.

Sound was immediately muffled, like being underwater, and the only thing you could hear was your breathing. Butcher's breathing over you. Your heart in your throat, nauseating you, the adrenaline rushing like a flood in your veins.

Butcher's chest heaving against yours, the entire length of him pressed up on you like a heavy blanket.

"Get off," you whispered, feeling the heat of his forearm next to your head.

"There's no space," he grumbled, his voice catching on your cheek, your neck, as he tried to maneuver himself every which way that meant he wasn't pressed up on you, but he was just so damn big, like hiding with a grizzly bear, that whenever he tried to move, he just ended up being half on and half off you.

"Fuck it," he grumbled, pressing one hand under your thigh, wrenching a gasp from your throat as he placed himself comfortably between your legs.

The pressure of him on your bare bottom half made you freeze, heart hammering like an angry drum against your ribcage. The way you were positioned, thighs wide open, knees bent each side of his waist, made the skimpy little skirt bundle up onto your tummy, leaving you completely bare.

"Hush up, little thing," Butcher whispered in your ear, holding himself up on his forearms as not to crush the breath out of you. But his voice was wretched, pulled and tight, no doubt reacting to the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his swim shorts.

The noise overhead intensified; a moan, a few garbled words, thudding.

"They're going to do it while he lie here," you whispered, hands balled up by your sides.

Butcher chuckled silently, breath fanning your neck. "So we really are voyeurs."

You smiled, holding back a giggle until a heavy thud caught your attention and the voices suddenly got a bit clearer. They were right over you.

A woman's voice floated through. "How ever I can serve you, Seducer."

The last word made your insides coil in fear. It looked like this woman was answering a command from the Seducer himself, the man who owned this house, who trafficked all the V and worked with Vought.

"Fuck," Butcher muttered. "This is worse than I thought."

"Why?" you asked silently, your fingers trembling against your thighs.

You felt him bend forward, his body tight like a rod. "This is going to hurt, love."

And just as you were about to ask what he was about to do, a soft pang echoed in your lower belly, like someone had tied a rope to your bellybutton and pulled. You squirmed, the thudding overhead leading back to the bed.

The pulling again, making you heave in a breath, squeeze your eyes shut. "No, no, no," you muttered, feeling an ache build between your legs, a force pull through your veins like molten honey.

The Seducer was using his power. And it wasn't just affecting the woman he was with... it was starting to affect you.

You felt yourself clench on nothing but air when the ache throbbed against your clit, like an invisible vacuum seal had closed over it, and you lifted your hips off the floor slightly.

Butcher immediately grabbed your hip, bringing you back down forcibly, sending a new wave of heat, of ache, of hurt through your body just at the touch of his bare fingers on your bare hip.

"Don't," he breathed, his word clipped. "Don't do that."

He could feel the heat of you through his shorts, just how impossibly hot you were, probably dripping from the Seducer's power, and the little control he exhibited around you was pulling quite taut.

"It hurts, Butcher," you gritted through your teeth, hands settling on his shoulders for support as another wave of need, of painful, painful need, throbbed through your body like a pulsing nuclear explosion. Your legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his Tommy Bahama. "Make it stop," you pleaded, heaving, throwing your head back, bucking your hips to get the pain to stop. Just stop.

Butcher huffed, cradling your face, his insides in turmoil with his brain. God had given him such a gift right now, a chance to take you, mark you as his, finally fuck that perfect little body--and he didn't know if he was man enough to stop himself.

You groaned in pain, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy against his thigh, searching for any kind of friction, of relief. Your skin was so hot, sweat beading your forehead as you braced through another wave of this unknown ache, throbbing relentlessly against your clit, deep inside you, just grazing your g-spot.

Your fingers balled into fists against his shirt, your face finding his chest, and you sobbed, "Make it stop, Butcher, please, it hurts."

You weren't aware that your hips had started grinding against his thigh, the knee he'd placed between your legs for leverage. And just the fact that he could feel his shorts getting soaked had him straining against the stitches of his sanity.

"There's only one way," he breathed against your ear. You sobbed, heaving, breathing raggedly, grinding so hard on his knee it was almost pathetic. "Are you sure you want to try?" he asked, voice trembling.

You sniffed, hung onto his neck for dear life. "Please, anything, this is--ah--this is unbearable."

He bent his head, mumbled for God to forgive him, and then pressed a deep, hard kiss on your lips, pressing you back into the floor completely. Somewhere above him, he heard a woman moan loudly, but the only thing that registered to him was the way you clung to him like a pawing animal.

A strangled moan, quiet and restrained, left your throat, caught behind your teeth as he ravaged your mouth.

"N-no," you mumbled. "No."

He pulled away, kissing your jaw, your neck until your were humping his thigh like a woman gone mad.

"This the only way, little Truthteller," he murmured in your ear, dragging his knee away and feeling your entire body go stiff against him.

A whine, like delicious music, lifted to his ear and he groaned inwardly. He had to convince himself he was doing it for you, but half of him was delighted at the idea of finally having you. Like a meal he'd been mouth-watering over for some time, and now it was fresh and warm right in front of him.

"I need," you muttered, groaning through another wave of the Seducer's power, your hips bucking into nothing. "I need..."

"You need to cum, little dove," Butcher whispered, caressing the side of your face and you shook your head.

"No."

"Yes, love," he muttered, tracing the line of your neck, down your chest until he softly cupped your breast.

A quiet moan rippled along your throat like a symphony to his ears. He played with your hard nipple through the fabric until he pushed it aside and replaced his thumb with the warmth of his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, pushing against his shoulders. "This is wrong." Your voice was so thin.

Butcher lapped at your nipple like an ice cream cone. "Want me to do this to your pretty little pussy?" he mumbled, and the crass words sent a hot wave of need pulsing painfully between your legs.

His other hand skimmed down your side, over the swell of your hip, and down to where you needed him most.

When he swiped a slow finger across your soaked folds, the grunt that left him was purely predatory. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, to the accompanying sound of your panting. He brushed his thumb across your clit, holding you down as you jolted, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

"Butcher, please," you begged.

"Billy, love," he whispered, raising his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, brushing his thumb against your clit once more to capture your gasp in his kiss. "Call me Billy."

You gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wide, powerful muscle of his right hand playing with you.

He pressed three fingers flat against you and you bucked, searching for more, as he circled slowly, starting you off.

"Say it," he commanded quietly, circling your clit faster.

"Billy," it came out as a whine and he groaned lowly, capturing your lips and kissing down your throat. The way his fingers played you like a harp wrenched a pornographic moan from your throat and immediately, Billy put a hand over your mouth, the skin between his thumb and forefinger snug under your nose.

"Quiet for me, little Truthteller," he whispered.

He moved his fingers to your entrance and slipped one in so easily it was almost embarrassing. He cooed at you, gliding his finger in and out so slowly it was almost arrogant. "So fucking wet, this perfect little hole."

You keened, squeezing your eyes shut at his crude words, searching for more friction until the heel of his hand pressed snuggly against your clit.

Your hips moved on their own, bucking against his hand as he pumped his finger, faster and faster until your pants turned into hyperventilating and your legs started to close around his hips.

"Got my whole hand drenched, pretty love," he whispered. "That perfect little cunt can handle another finger?"

You preened against his hand, your sounds muffled against his large, meaty palm and he chuckled at you.

The second finger was a tighter fit, his thick digits spreading you and squelching into you slowly.

"Ah, there's my girl," he moaned in your ear. "Fucking my fingers like a good girl."

You wanted to tell him to quit teasing, to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible because the heat stirring under your skin was insatiable, but you didn't understand how much Billy was enjoying himself. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to have you so willingly spread open for him again, or if he'd ever get the chance again. So he savored this moment like a dying man's last meal.

He let you adjust to his fingers, fucking them into you, palming your clit before he thrust in another finger, opening you wide to him. You gurgled against his hand, muffled moans and pleas stuck behind his palm.

He didn't miss just how tight you were around his fingers, how snug and warm. "So tight, my little love," he cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way your hips bucked.

The sloppy sounds of your cunt sucking on his fingers drove you mad and a hot, painful knot formed in your belly, pulling and tugging at your insides.

He felt you trembling, your orgasm on the horizon, and he lifted his hand off your mouth, capturing your lips in a warm, sloppy kiss.

"Want you to cum with my name in your mouth," he mumbled, almost incoherent in his chase for your climax. He pressed his thumb to your mouth, opening it, listening to your panting, your quiet moans as he fucked his fingers into your cunt, pressing down on your clit, rubbing it with his palm.

"Billy," you breathed. "Billy. Billy." Like a mantra, a prayer.

"That's it, my pretty girl," he whispered, thumb on your tongue, fingers fucking your pussy until that knot in your bely tightened impossibly and your legs went numb. "Cum my pretty dove, gush all over my hand, come on now."

He grunted against you, and somehow, that guttural, manly sound made stars explode in your belly and you came, shuddering his name quietly, over and over and over until the pleasure had seeped out of your veins and you crumbled back to the floor. You felt his fingers slip out of you, his wet hand pull your knee apart, press against the meat of your thigh, spreading you wide, wide open.

He slithered down your body like a snake, pushing you up against the confines of this box until you felt the warm breath of him against your clit. When he lapped at you, humming around your hole like a satiated man, you mumbled his name, searching with your hands until you grabbed onto the thick strands of his hair. Panting, you mumbled his name again.

"Just having a taste, love," he mumbled, sucking on your over-sensitive clit until the heat came blasting through you again, all over, like you were under the Seducer's spell again.

"Fuck," you gritted, biting your lip, caging in the awfully loud, guttural moan that wanted to spring free.

Billy grabbed onto your hips, holding them down, his forearm over your belly like an anchor.

"One more, little Truthteller," he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue, his beard scraping on the inside of your sensitive thighs.

"Billy, please," you whined softly.

"Always wanted a taste," he said. Not a lie. "Always wanted to tongue-fuck this perfect hole." Not a lie.

He pressed his tongue flat to your clit, sucked and nibbled on it until he pressed his tongue right into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue like he'd promised. The mix of his hot breath, his tongue inside your walls, his thumb working on your clit made all your senses flush full of adrenaline. Bucking against his face, you rode his mouth until another flash burst through you and you came all over his face, grinding down on his nose until the last waves of your orgasm had left you.

When he climbed back over, kissing your belly, your nipple, covering you with his warmth, you were just a numb shell of the girl you were when you walked in here.

Billy kissed your jaw, your neck, stroking your hair as you regained your senses.

Whoever had been overhead had gone. It was completely silent. And it left you wondering if that last wave of need had been the Seducer's spell or Billy's.

"We should go, love," he whispered. "Before I stuff you full of my cock and have you cumming on it for the third time."

His filthy mouth brought you back to your body, cold and sweaty and oh so comfortable with two orgasm singing in your veins.

"Yeah," you whispered as Billy pushed the trap door open, peaking out to make sure the coast was clear, and then hopping out. He helped you out with his hand, gentle and calm, smoothing down your hair, covering your nipple, patting down your two-inch skirt.

"I've made a real good mess of you, love, eh?" he chuckled, standing and taking your hand. "Was I a good pet?"

[magicians-abode]

"You're sweeter than wine"

How would Dungeon Meshi characters (men) react to you telling them this phrase?

hopefully this isn't ooc, I tried my very best to make it accurate to each character's personality but, well, it's kinda hard for me. Anyways, here's me proving I haven't died and that I'm still willing to write despite my brain being a wreck because of anxiety. Hope you enjoy!

Laios: he's not exactly sure what you mean, but he smiles regardless of his confusion. "Oh! Thank you" but then the doubt crawls up his spine and it makes him ask "what kind of wine? Red? White? Rosé? They're all pretty different in their own way, you know?" so he starts making you explain exactly what you meant, which makes him end up smiling even more now that he knows exactly what you had wanted to express to him since the beginning.

Kabru: I feel like he's used to people thinking he's attractive, he's very analytical when he knows someone new, always paying attention to every detail, every gesture, every roll of their eyes or even when their breath hitches. So when you walked over to him and said hi, but your next words were such a thing, he froze for a moment, blinking owlishly. A little hint of a blush and a laugh erupt from him. He's both amused and flattered by how blunt and sudden you were with it, but he let's you know he appreciates the gesture by saying something along the lines of: "thank you, I could say the same thing about you" and then winking one of his pretty icy blue eyes. (I think I'm fainting)

Chilchuck: not a fan of sweet things, unless it's your compliments, so at first he's taken aback, but then he chuckles. "Well, where did that come from?" He tries to tease you, poking wherever he can reach on your body (depends on how tall you are, if you're a tall-man he probably pokes your stomach) he has a cocky smile on his face, and through all the teasing it probably looks like he wasn't really affected by it, but deep down he really, really liked it. It was a funny thing to say so suddenly, but that didn't mean it didn't make him feel happy and flattered. As an alcohol enjoyer, he finds it funny you're using such an analogy for him.

Thistle: "What??" He's a bit surprised you'd say that to him of all people, but still, a soft blush appears on his cheeks due to embarrassment and a bit of confussion because he just received a compliment from someone he loves. We all know that when he cares for someone, he cares... a lot. So it means a lot to him when you choose to compliment him in such a way, even if he doesn't really get it, since it's canon he doesn't like to drink, at all, but he supposes by your comment that all wines must be sweet then and therefore it makes sense for you to say that. (Even if he doesn't think he's sweet to begin with)

Yaad: he's a softie, so his immediate reaction is a surprised expression, accompanied by a soft blooming blush on his cheeks, and then a smile. "Oh, um, thank you..." he's not sure what wine tastes like, since he didn't use to drink even when he was able to taste food and drinks, but he remembers people around him enjoying a cup of wine from time to time before, which makes him capable of appreciating the compliment. Once the initial shock calm down quickly, he composes himself and with a smile, returns the compliment: "You're very sweet yourself" keep in mind that while he's saying it he's picturing a jar of honey in his brain since it's known that honey is sweet and soft. Just like you ;)

[homerforsure]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

[worriedvision]

He proves you wrong- Tighnari

Been a while since I wrote for Tighnari, gender neutral reader. Reader is written as shy here, but Tighnari is dating them and has grown used to it. The same can't be said for some admirers of his. Some really suggestive words from Tighnari hence the category.

--

"Master Tighnari is busy." Someone bluntly states, you mid-sip of your coffee. Eyes widening, you choke on your coffee as you almost drop your cup. "You heard me, he doesn't need a creepy stalker."

"...I don't kn-" you start, only for the forest ranger to cut you off.

"You keep visiting for no good reason, and you keep your distance from him until nobody else is around him." They explain. "You're lucky he hasn't spotted your creepy behaviour, you know. He's a very busy man."

You wince, still confused at what they were getting at. Did they not realise you entered Tighnaris house several times?

"Stop coming to the forest if you know what's good for you." They warn you, turning to leave but saying one last thing to make you second guess yourself. "Tighnari is snarky, but hes also highly considerate of other people. Stop taking advantage of him."

--

Rethinking everything, Tighnari did tell you that you needed to keep the relationship behind closed doors for your safety, as well as the jealous onlookers Tighnari knew of. You thought his reasoning for keeping the relationship private was solely for both of your conveniences.

But now, you were worried he was just wanting to let you down lightly. Maybe he was hoping you'd stop visiting him, and he knew you'd be hurt if he just let you down when you confessed to him. You thought you knew him well enough that you could trust he wouldn't beat around the bush, but maybe you didn't know him for long enough.

So, with a heavy heart you avoid him at all costs. No longer visiting him, ducking out of his sight whenever you see his ears, ignoring the pining you felt for him.

Since Tighnari hadn't seen you, he was immediately worried - he was that worried that he didn't even wait a week until contacting Cyno, asking him to look for you.

You're having your daily walk when you feel a pair of eyes behind you. It wasn't Tighnari, it felt more menacing.

"He's worried, _." Cyno states. "Something happened recently, didn't it?"

"...He's worried he's hurt my feelings, that's all." You reply, Cyno waiting for you to continue. "I put him on the spot by confessing to him, and he didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"...You've been actively avoiding him even when he looks for you." Cyno continues, your guilt worsening as you recognise how immature your actions were.

"Someone told me the truth. That he's too giving towards others, and ignores his own wants." You reply, turning around only to realise Tighnari had been standing there the whole time, just back facing Cyno so he couldn't interrupt.

"'Too giving ', huh?" Tighnari tuts, walking around Cyno. "You lummox, you do know I'm not one for tiptoeing around things. Which forest ranger planted these silly ideas into your mind?"

"I don't want them to get in trouble." You choke out, Tighnari taking a step closer to you. "I can't blame them for making me realise I've been making you uncomfortable."

Tighnari pulls you in for a hug, making sure he could whisper into your ear.

"The things I have done to your body are not to let you down easily." He huffs. "And I don't give my body out to anyone else either." He kisses your cheek, your brain short-circuiting as your brain relives those heated nights.

"I love you. I realised now people are too prying regardless of whether we keep things private." Tighnari plays off innocently, Cyno now long gone. "Let's go for our first date, my love."

--

"This is our first date, what would you recommend for us?" Tighnari smirks, you trying to look away at his playful teasing as the waitress recommends a platter. We'll try that -" Tighnari nods, the waitress walking away as he leans towards you "-but I would like to have you as well."

"Tighnari, careful!" You gasp. "People might be listening."

"Listening to a boyfriend make it clear they're having their first date with someone as breathtaking as you? Let them listen on!" Tighnari smiles, light giggles coming from various people at his antics.

It was clear to everyone in that room you two were a happy couple, even the odd forest ranger you knew of didn't look disapproving of it.

--

After the meal itself, you both go for a nice walk before going back to his place, making sure to be holding each others hands as you make your way to his house. Tighnari notices a familiar and unwelcome pair of eyes on him - the forest ranger he had rejected - so he kisses you on the cheek before telling you he'll meet you on the bed.

All he has to to is look directly at the person in question, the smile dropping off his face in the most intimidating and spine chilling way possible, before finally going inside to join you.

[gerryrigged]

dicktim - La Beau Au Bois Dormant

idea gripping my tired brain by the throat about Tim being struck by some kind of sleeping beauty poison or spell and falling comatose.

Except the solution is not True Love's Kiss but sending someone inside his soul to battle the dragon that will manifest from his inner demons to keep him imprisoned, forever.

The highest chance for success necessitates sending in the one person that the sleeper trusts most - often their love, hence the poison/spell's reputation, but not always.

And almost everyone immediately turns to Dick, like in you go, Nightwing, what are you waiting for.

Which Dick. Doesn't know how to react to, because. God he would give anything to be that person for Tim again. But he knows that he broke something between them when he stripped away Robin.

They've moved past it, they're...fine. But Dick knows. It's not the same. They aren't the same.

He can't help Tim with this. Tim probably wouldn't even want him to try. And that kills him, but he won't sabotage Tim's only shot to wake up because of his own desperate wish to still be the one Tim turns to first. His north star.

There's a ticking-clock time limit before Tim won't be able to wake up at all. They don't have any time to lose.

He looks away from everyone's expectant, demanding stares.

"Call Superboy," he says, voice scraped raw from his throat. "Or Kid Flash. They'll get here in time."

He can't stand the disappointment on Bruce's face. It makes helpless anger boil hot and toxic in his belly. Bruce wasn't here for everything that happened. He doesn't know.

(Dick's never told him. How badly he fucked up.)

"Wait, not his boyfriend?'" Steph says, raised eyebrows and gesticulating at nowhere in particular and Dick's churning thoughts sputter and die into frozen blankness. Boyfriend?

Babs shakes her head on the Batcomputer's view screen.

"They're not at that level of trust yet. They haven't even been dating that long, Tim definitely hasn't told him about - " she twirls a finger, indicating all of them. Red Robin on the medical bed, cowl pushed down and cape pooled around him. The Cave, vaulting overhead. " - all of this. And he won't thank us for doing it for him."

Tim...has a boyfriend?

Wow. His little brother used to always want his advice on love. Life. Everything. If he doesn't trust Dick enough anymore to tell him even that much... Well. It just proves definitively that Dick isn't the right person for this job.

(It hurts like Dick's vital organs are being crushed in a massive fist.)

"Time is ticking," Jason Blood says quietly, looking down at the open face of his pocket watch. At his feet, a circle of lit candles awaits someone to sit down inside and sink into an enchanted meditation.

"Father, clearly it should be you," Damian says, tapping his foot rapidly. His arms are crossed tightly under his cape in a way that he probably means to come across as scornful, rather than apprehensive. "Or Pennyworth, even."

Bruce shakes his head, troubled. "No. I don't think so. Cassie...?"

"No," Cass responds calmly. "Not me." She seems untroubled by her own denial, even though she and Tim have been thick as thieves ever since she returned to Gotham.

She's looking at Dick. She hasn't looked away from Dick this whole time, or let go of Tim's hand, folded in hers protectively, over his heart.

"It's still you, big brother," she says. Gentle and direct and devastating. "Go. Bring him back."

Not so long ago, Tim trusted Dick to catch him when he fell.

Or, he was depressed and passively suicidal and telling Dick what he wanted to hear. Maybe he even believed it, after the fact.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He's Dick's brother. Dick will always, always be there to catch him, whether Tim trusts him to or not.

Dick goes.

He faces Tim, sinks into lotus inside the ring of flickering little flames, and closes his eyes, heart in his throat.

He opens his eyes. A vast, jagged bramble forest looms dark above him. Far in the distance, he can just make out a spindly tower piercing the sky, a flickering little light shining at the top.

He hacks his way through the biting brambles of Tim's resentments, leaving blood and sorrows dripping from the thorns in his wake.

He fights the sly, sinuous dragon of Tim's despair, singing with every breath that he can spare, so that Tim might hear him and know he's not alone.

He wishes he could remember happy songs, bright and lively songs - wishes he could be the light in the darkness that Tim deserves, that he looked up to and chased after and for some reason tried to model himself upon, even when he was already so very bright himself.

But any song is better than none to pierce the lonely vault of silence, so he sings of pain, of loss, of faith and faithlessness. Of holding on past the point of breaking. He sings of two hands open and outstretched, waiting to be clasped and held.

When his voice falters, when adamant scales break his sword and claws shatter his shield, he throws himself at the winged serpent, letting it coil about him and grappling it in turn. Fangs strike at him again and again, piercing flesh and armor both, before he winds his arms around its jaws and holds them shut.

It hisses through clenched teeth about failures, his and Tim's both. He holds its jaws shut, and sings of two ships tossed in a maelstrom, anchored to each other, weathering the storm.

It hisses, venom dripping from its furious curled lips, about abandonment and betrayal. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about two robins, flying with an olive branch held aloft between them.

It hisses to him of ice unending, frozen hearts, shattered trust. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about the steady radiating warmth of a hearth, of a hug, of a new dawn. Of new beginnings.

He rests his forehead on the dragon's growling snout, and sings, "Come home with me. Come home to me. Tim, I love you. Tim, Tim, Tim."

The beast shudders and shivers. And starts to break apart.

The crumbling wings buffet and beat at Dick even as they begin to crack and collapse. Dick lowers his head and holds on tighter.

The massive coiled tail squeezes around Dick convulsively, thrashing and withering. Dick's ribs crack, but he holds on tighter.

Scales etched with Tim's regrets flake off and fall away, like a tree shedding razor edged leaves in autumn. Dick closes his eyes as they kiss and cut his already tattered skin, but just holds on tighter.

Eventually, the violent disintegration comes to an end, and all goes still and quiet.

Save for a familiar shape shaking and weeping in Dick's arms.

Dick opens his eyes, blinking away sweat and blood just to be sure. But yes. It's him. Blue eyes reddened with tears, staring in horror at the ragged torn-up mess of his older brother, come to rescue him.

"Tim," Dick sighs, bones papier-mâché from relief. And exhaustion. "Timmy. Thank god."

"Dick," Tim cries out, gripping him tightly in distress. He lets go immediately at Dick's wince, and tries to pull away. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm - your wounds, we have to - "

Dick doesn't let him move an inch. "Shhhhhh," he breathes. "It's a dream, don't worry about it." Tim wriggles in protest at first, determinedly attempting to staunch some of the heavier bleeding, but Dick just holds him tighter. "Please, Timmy," he begs. "Please. Just let me."

Tim's breath hitches, then he wraps his arms around Dick just as hard as Dick is squeezing him, strong and anchoring. Dick's own breath shudders on the edge of a whine, and he buries his nose in Tim's hair.

-----

"Missed you," he whispers hoarsely, several minutes later.

Tim lifts his face from where he's been leaking a silent wet spot into Dick's collarbone.

"Missed you, too," he whispers back, as if they're sharing secrets and might be overheard.

Then Tim hesitates, before setting his mouth firmly. He meets Dick's gaze, and there's a fierce light in his still reddened eyes that transfixes Dick. He almost lost this. He almost lost Tim - so many times, more than he probably even knows about. He never wants to look away.

"And I love you, too, you know. That's never changed. It never will change." His brow is furrowed intently, gaze searching Dick's, like he can find and burn away any hint of doubt or disbelief.

"I know," Dick murmurs, warm down to his battered toes. Tim's alive. Tim's going to wake up, and keep living. Tim loves him, and forgives him, and still trusts him more than anyone else. "I do know. I - "

He releases one arm from its death grip, because he can no longer resist the urge to cup Tim's face, stroke a thumb across his cheek. Tim closes his eyes briefly as he covers Dick's hand with his, leaning into it, brows still drawn together. Like he's in pain, even though all the dings and scratches are on Dick, not him.

Dick's heart seizes.

He dips down, to the impossibly inviting bow of Tim's mouth, and kisses him. At Tim's small, quiet gasp, he gentles further, catching Tim's lips, pulling the full lower curve between his own in a soft tug. To his delight, Tim follows him, chasing his mouth, and they share the sweet cling and press, back and forth.

-----

Dick's wounds are somehow all still present upon waking. Magic, ugh, such a pain. The resulting frenzy of medical attention and getting bundled into another bed - too far away from Tim - like he's one foot through death's door isn't exactly fun, either.

(But still. Well worth it, for that first moment Tim's eyes flutter open and hazily lock on his. The world can keep spinning, now that Dick knows Tim is safe.)

As it turns out, Tim's recollection of what happened inside his own soul is equally hazy.

He remembers enough to melt bonelessly into Dick's chest when Dick sneaks over to share his bed, which dissolves the hard knot of worried tension in Dick's chest that he wouldn't remember anything, that he'd be back to subtle distance and awkward texts and not even feeling comfortable enough to share that he likes men, and Dick. Isn't sure he could have handled that.

So he ignores his aching ribs and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds and curls around Tim with his whole body, warmth and gratitude suffusing every aching muscle.

Tim...doesn't seem to remember the kiss. Which. Is a shame.

But Dick remembers it. Every moment is burned into him like the most intimate pyrography. That will have to be enough, until he can make it happen again.

(Tim's boyfriend doesn't stand a chance.)

[wastingawayinmyroom]

arabella by arctic monkeys is a bangerrrrrr

here's the dorlene royalty au @percesdead and @dont-fiddle-with-my-riddles were dying for lol

...

She was very bold.

That's the first thing Princess Dorcas Meadowes noticed about the new guard. She was not like the other servants and knights of the castle, doing their duties and keeping their heads down. No, not this knight. This girl, no matter the cost, could not keep her nose out of royal affairs to save her life. She'd meddle and prod and set Dorcas' mother on fire with her antics, so much that Queen Meadowes almost threw her out once.

But, as time passed, she found that the nosy girl proved to be helpful sometimes.

It was right after a "meeting", as she came to call the time she spent with various suitors. Her mother had yelled again, angry at her bad performance, wishing her daughter would show more interest in these men that would bring gifts and promises but no affection. Her mother wasn't a bad woman; just a very stressed woman, since Dorcas was of ripe age to marry and had not even set her sights on anyone specific.

"You need to grow up," her mother had spat, angrily. "Marriage isn't some type of lovely romance. Lovely romances... well, I had one, with your father. And look where it got me."

That last part had hurt, because Dorcas wasn't sure whether her mother was referring to the shame of being associated with a peasant, or the shame of Dorcas herself. So she'd ran to her quarters, secluded herself in the bed chamber, and sobbed her life out, because she knew she wouldn't be doing it in a while.

"Personally," she had heard, a voice coming from the doorway. "I think marriage can be pretty cool."

The girl. The meddler. Whatever she was doing here, and whatever she had heard, seemed to be safe inside her brain along with all the other palace gossip, because she didn't sound like she had the intention of sharing. Dorcas appreciated that.

"My parents," she said, "Were perfectly happy. Like, run-off-into-the-sunset romance kind-of happy. They loved each other. They didn't marry for convenience. They were just..." She shrugged. "Together."

"They were peasants," Dorcas said. "It's a lot easier for peasants."

"What I'm saying," she continued, "Is that you might find someone, someday, that loves you, is loaded, and controls good territory. And even if you don't, I'll tell you a secret." She leaned closer. She wasn't by the door anymore, instead right next to the bed. "Cheating's always an option."

Dorcas jolted back. "You— You crazy, disgusting— I would never, ever, ever do something— I can't even find words!"

"Nice to know I leave you speechless," she said, smirking. "Names's Marlene."

[xxstraykidsaikoxx]

ᴛʀɪᴀɴɢʟᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ || ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ (sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴋɪᴅs) ɴɪɴᴛʜ!ғ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ

It's a special ferret boys' birthday! And two very special people are dying to give him the most special gift one could receive! But what happens when these two happen to be fated rivals for the ferrets love, and when this special gift suddenly goes missing?

ෆ contents - cursing towards the end, drags on a bit, arguing, fluff, crack?, kinda lazy writing

ෆ word count - 903

ෆ notes - can you tell i ran out of ideas 😭 i really tried my best with this one i swear, its just i dont really know binnie as well as the other members but that doesn't mean i dont love him im ot8 i promise🤞

"When are you going to accept my feelings, Hyunjin-a.." Came the flirtatious words of a certain pig-rabbit. The latter braced himself for what he knew was about to happen. A well aimed plastic water bottle flew across the room and hit Casanova on his shoulder, "Ow! Okay that one was uncalled for, Ai!" The smirking maknae broke into a fit of giggles as she, once again, foiled Changbin's plan for Hyunjin's affections. Ever since Hyun and Ai had been confirmed to be dating, the interactions between the two and Changbin have become comedy gold. As previously mentioned, the rapper does any thing and everything to "flirt" with Hyunjin, from making comments, to romantic gestures, and even preventing other people, including Hyun's own girlfriend from stealing his affections. Obviously this is all a joke, Changbin would never do something so heinous, so Aiko never took is seriously and even bought into the joke. Now the three have become involved in some sort of love triangle.

Outside of fighting for Hyunjin's love, Changbin and Aiko often had small quarrels about other small things, not as much as Ai does with other members, but enough to earn a eyeroll from anyone within earshot. "I thought you had it!" "No! Chan told me you had it!" "Well obviously it's not in my hands, so why do you think I have it?!" "Guys! Arguing about it isn't going to find it!" Another day, another petty kindergarten argument. But it wasn't just a normal day, it was Hyunjin's birthday! And for the ferrets special day, Aiko and Changbin decided to pitch in and get a gift for him from the both of them. An art set that had a lot of supplies Hyunjin had been wanting for his artwork. They had both bought it and decided to give it to Channie to hold onto, because they were aware that one of them would be dumb enough to lose it. And they did.

"Hyunjin's party is in 30 minuets, what are we going to do? Show up with no gift?!" Aiko panicked, she personally didn't like it when things didn't go to plan, especially when it came to the love of her life's birthday. "Well, we'll just go out looking for it! It's not like it grew legs and walk away!" Changbin suggested, hopeful as always. "You're making it sound like that's what it did! Ugh, let's go look where Chan said he put it, it couldn't be far from there." The pair set off to the confined room, desperate to find the gift to prove who loved Hyunjin most once and for all.

While the two desperately searched, Hyunjin had already arrived. "Where's Ai and Changbin?" Hyunjin had asked, noticing the absence of his most valued admirers. "Oh! They're looking for a gi-" "They're looking for something! Don't worry, they'll be here shortly!" Han quickly hushed Chan, persistent on keeping the gift a secret. Hyunjin obviously didn't buy the act but obliged, he turned away and looked around, waiting to see what the two were doing, hoping that they weren't killing eachother in the process.

"Dammit! We're 30 minuets late looking for this cursed ass gift, we should just give up and show up fuckin' empty handed!" Aiko had enough, clearly, and her mouth spoke faster than what her brain could think. As his younger companion cursed angrily to herself in one corner of the room, Changbin searched frivolously, hoping to any God out there that he'd find this gift. Not only for himself, but for both Hyunjin and Aiko. "You don't think Chan hid it.. right?-" Aiko suspected, it was the only other explanation. "No, Chan isn't like that, there has to be another way this happened. The two sat against the wall in silent defeat, wondering what the hell they were going to do. Both had too much humility and guilt to just show up to one of their closest friend's party empty handed. As they sat in self pity, Aiko looked around and noticed pieces of paper and a few markers scattered around the nearby table, had someone.. set this up? "Oppa, I have an idea." Aiko got up to grab the paper from the table. Changbin looked over to see Ai start folding the paper the several ways. It didn't take long for Changbin to realize what she was doing, "Oh my god you're a genius! Let me get some too!" The two giggled to themselves and hurried to make their newest plan.

Downstairs, a certain birthday boy was still waiting for one of his closest friend and love of his life (though one can argue is both of them) make their way to the party that was slowly dying out. Without two of the loudest members there it was left to Han and Felix to keep up the mood. A sudden burst open of a door made everyone jump as the long awaited Dweakki-Cat duo loudly made their way to the party an hour late. "JAGI! LOOK WHAT I MADE FOR YOU! IT WAS MY IDEA!" Aiko exclaimed as she showed Hyunjin what she did, before being shoved aside by her more stronger older brother, "Nonsense! Mine are clearly more expertly crafted!- Ow!-" Changbin yelped as Aiko kicked him from below. As the two once again started they're usual banter, a fond smile was placed on Hyunjin's face, They had made him paper hearts.

©straykidsaiko

Always keep in mind that nothing in this series and in my posts are real! So anything that may seem 'out of character' should be considered as part of a fake universe! <3

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

[salbei-141]

Southern asshole (Commander Phillip Graves x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.9k

warnings: 18+, angst, mild fluff if we're looking closely ig...it ain't long lasting that's for sure, violence as usual, etc.

a/n: just look at him, he's so baby girl.

I hope you enjoy my loves

:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood still, adrenaline piercing every nerve in your body until you were numb. Everything in your head screamed at you to run as the chaos ensued. Ghost had disappeared, and Soap was on the run as several Shadow members attempted to go after him, and Alejandro was cuffed in the back of one of their vehicles. Despite all this, you stood your ground - not because you were being 'brave', it was probably one of the most mindless decisions you've made during your military career. You just couldn't believe what was happening though.

You and Phillip had been working closely together and not once had you thought he'd do this to your team, especially to you. Since the mission had begun, the relationship between you and Phillip had grown rapidly - you weren't exactly just friends, but you weren't lovers either. You'd spent countless hours late at night telling Phillip about your childhood, and how it led you to the military as he held you in his arms - he too had opened up about his past, but you weren't sure if he had been telling you the truth about anything now, you felt so utterly deceived that you felt nothing was real about him - instead there was a new man before you now.

Before you could continue processing things in your head, a random Shadow member shoved you roughly against the car next to you - you were convinced you were going to receive a few bruises from that. You felt a jolt of anger coursing through your veins and resisted the Shadow member as he tried to cuff you.

"Shadow, stand down." there's the bastard's voice ringing from behind you.

Feeling the pressure removed from behind you, you turned and whipped around, coming face to face with Phillip. You stared him down and noticed the way his eyes twitched - nerves you thought. Watching as he took a silent step towards you, you pushed further back into the car, feeling like prey, being stalked and played with.

"You gonna give me your hands sweetheart, or are we gonna have trouble?" you couldn't figure out the look in his eyes, but there was an edge to him that's for sure. Holding your hands out to him, you let him cuff you and drag you into the back of a car - you had no chance against him with his team of Shadows surrounding the both of you.

The drive to Alejandro's base was tense - no one spoke a word, and you were doing your utmost best to keep your mouth shut, despite the string of curses you wanted to slew his way. You kept your eyes on the outside of the window, watching mindlessly as you passed rocks and plants along the roads. Eventually, you came up to Alejandro's base and the pit in your stomach deepened - your team wasn't here this time to help you - they were in trouble too, and you had been stupid enough to freeze in that moment.

Coming to a halt, you noticed that the vehicle Alejandro had been in went down a different turning. "Where the fuck are you taking Alejandro, Graves?" you spat his name out through gritted teeth - you were beyond pissed, and the use of his last name only proved that to him, you'd always call him by his name.

"That doesn't concern you right now, so I suggest you stay quiet - you were doin' so well darlin'." He glared at you in the rearview mirror, he wasn't letting up anytime soon.

"Like hell, it doesn't concern me! Tell me where in the fu-" You couldn't get the sentence out before he had to cut in again.

He turned around, making direct eye contact with you - it was haunting, "Don't you even dare go there with me y/l/n. What did I just say to you, huh? Use that brain of yours before you get yourself hurt." His voice didn't waver once, and you could honestly admit that you were scared of Phillip - you never thought you'd be in this position with him of all people. You cared for him...a lot and this was not the way you anticipated things to go.

The threatening tone had you on edge, so you decided to obey like the bitch he was making you - you felt so small, it was actually embarrassing, but more painful than anything that he was treating you like this. You watched as he exited the car and came to your door, pulling it open and dragging you out by your cuffed hands.

"I'm sorry." it was a brief whisper as he got close enough to your ear as he shut the door of the car behind you. Looking back up at his face though, there wasn't a single change to his expression - he still looked like the southern asshole he was. Was he still playing with you? You couldn't tell, but you had every reason to believe he was.

Pulling you alongside him, you blanked as he shouted commands at his surrounding Shadows while he dragged you into the compound. Before you knew it, you were in an office - just you and Graves. Your heart had sped up seeing the reality of the situation - you didn't really know him after today, and all you could assume was that there was every chance you weren't walking back out of that room.

Watching as he shut and locked the door, he strode towards the desk in the middle of the room and sat atop of it, staring you down. You were frozen in place yet again - what were you supposed to do? His head moved, he hung it low, taking in a deep breath.

"I didn't mean for this." he continued to hang his head low - he couldn't even make eye contact with you. Was this his attempt at an apology? You could feel the fury overwhelming your senses, you could laugh at him right now in all honesty - this was pathetic.

"What? Is this your half-assed apology for being a fucking rat this whole time? You had me all docile for you - at your side whenever the fuck you called my name, I didn't once think twice about you Phillip...not once. But now, I don't even know you - what was true and what wasn't Phillip?" You hadn't even realised the tears that were streaming down your face as you'd been berating him - you were in pain, you hadn't expected him to hurt you like this, you thought he had cared. 

Before he could respond, you held your arms out to him, "And take these fucking cuffs off of me, I'm not the animal here." you glared at him, waiting for him to come closer and remove the restraints, but he didn't move.

"You ain't gonna hit me?" he was genuinely asking you, and you couldn't believe it. He had no reason to be scared right now, he had the power here.

"As tempting as it is, no I won't. I'd have done it by now too - cuffs or not."

He moved from where he was and gently took your wrists into his hands - this was the Phillip you were used to, he was gentle with you. The soft caress of his hand atop your wrists as he unlocked the cuffs had you calming down again - he held an unspeakable amount of power over your emotions.

You both remained silent, staying within close proximity of each other. Before you could even register any movement, his hand had come up to your face, delicately wiping away the tears that were still slowly cascading down your reddened cheeks. Whipping your head to the side, he dropped his hand back to his side - you weren't going to let him think things were okay.

"Don't do that." he was pleading with you now, he thought you'd be more understanding, and let him explain himself.

"Why Phillip? I'd rather you hadn't spent months deceiving me, to just betray the entire team, but here we are." you sent another glare in his direction.

"You think I had any choice in this y/n? Shepherd controls me, I had no fucking choice in this darlin'."

You gave him a confused look, "What? Of course you had a choice, Phillip, it's not hard to not commit whatever the fuck is going on. You and Shepherd are a team Phillip, don't act like you're innocent." you felt your fists balling up in anger, why was he acting like he wasn't at fault.

He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes - he knew he shouldn't admit this, but it was his last saving grace. His chest was straining seeing how much he'd hurt you - would he ever come back from this?

"I never had a choice darlin'. I fucking love you y/n, and Shepherd knew you were my weakness - everybody fucking knew. He was ready to remove you one way or another if I didn't agree to this. I did this for you! What can't you understand about that? I-...I'm sorry." you were stunned into silence. His face was ridden with guilt and exhaustion - he'd known about this for weeks, and he had no way of telling you.

You broke eye contact seeing the desperation in his eyes for forgiveness - you couldn't give that to him, your team always came first. Still though, your heart pumped painfully hearing that he loved you - you loved him too, you really did, but there was no way he was coming back from this. Your heart ached for him, thinking of what Shepherd must've said to him for him to have gone this far - and for how far he was yet to go.

You raised a tentative hand to his face, placing it on the underside of his jaw, stroking it softly, "I...I don't know what you want me to say, Phillip. Of course, I love you too, but I can't actually do so. You made this decision Phillip, and I'm sorry Shepherd backed you into a corner, but there's not much you can do now apart from try and save yourself from this mess." you wanted to forget it all, you really did. You wanted the picture-perfect life with him, but not after this. You'd prefer he'd let you die than have your team being hunted by the bloodhounds of the night.

You heard a knock at the door, and with a final stroke of his cheek, and sorrowful looks exchanged between you both, he went to unlock and answer the door. Whispers were shared between Phillip and one of his Shadows - it sounded rushed, and they were worried, which you liked. You were hoping Soap and Ghost were safe - you don't know how you'd cope if something had happened to them, knowing you were at the centre of Grave's motives for carrying this betrayal out.

Grabbing you roughly by the arm again, Phillip cuffed you again and bending down to your ear he whispered a final sorry, discreetly pressing a soft kiss to your ear as he did so, before the Shadow member took you to somewhere more secure. You felt your heart shatter all over again - that was possibly one of the last times you'd see Graves and you let yourself silently cry, mourning the loss of the shell of a man you loved. That was your goodbye, and you couldn't think of a worse way of saying goodbye to someone - you didn't even get to say your last words to each other. All you could do was pray for your team, and bring hell to Shepherd when they inevitably took back Alejandro's base.

[freyaloi]

You know... I can't help but feel that Orb is talking about Junior and his father here. (also possibly referring to the royal family from their own era but anyway) Time to get my brain worms out.

When Junior's animations changed a few months ago, I've been pondering the meaning of it ever since.

I may be fairly new to the game and not particularly active but it's the story, and more specifically Junior that caught my eye and made me want to play, even if sporadically.

When I first saw him, he was a lot more confident, standing tall and proud, flourishing his cutlass as if he didn't have a care in the world.

These days, however, his animations seem a lot more guarded, he's hunched, hiding his face, turning away... He's even putting his cutlass between himself and us. Now to me, that tells me there's something wrong with him or something is going on, and I've always wondered if everything he's done in the name of his father is starting to catch up to him.

In the book where he describes himself, he gives no hint of having any evil nature. Ambitious, overconfident and a bit of an idiot? Absolutely, but not evil... But back then he didn't have any street smarts either, so to speak. Now I know being a skeleton changes things and messes with the mind, but it wasn't until he met Wanda that he fixated on Serving his Father, obsessively so, desperate to prove himself like so many others. That adoration and idealisation he had of Flameheart as a child still persists even though his mental image was reshaped by her.

Flameheart was never a good man, he was a bully and a tyrant and still is, but even though he was an absent father, he still gave Junior the best childhood he could, perhaps reliving his own ideal childhood fantasies through his newly adopted son. (that could be another reason why he adopted the child in the first place because it seems so out of character but anyway) That left Junior with a deep level of affection for him, which of course we know about... (but perhaps some melancholy too)

But the Flameheart we have now isn't the one he knew growing up. He in fact never was, only telling him an idealised version of events and keeping secrets. Junior himself says his father told him he didn't need to know what he saved the boy from. (Flameheart attacked and sank the ship Junior was on as a baby so there's that)

That brings me to my theory...

I can't help but wonder if actually working 'with' his Father has begun to create cracks in that blazing ideal image of his, that those rose-tinted glasses are beginning to slip, no matter which shape they take. He had one idea of his father in his mind as a child, that of a hero, which set him on his journey in the first place. No doubt the Cap'n gave him one too, telling him of the betrayal and the horrors he committed... Then so did Wanda, praising him, lording him, and elevating him to the kingly status Flameheart craves now. (though part of that was obviously her own ambition speaking)

But with them all out of the picture, Junior gets to see his father for who he truly is now, for the bloodthirsty, blazing pit of vicious sadistic hatred that he actually is.

For a while, I could see him obsessively working to serve his father as he said he would, in fact, we've seen this with him creating and being the face of the Reapers we know today, resurrecting his father and being his right-hand man. I'm sure for a while he would have been over the moon to be working alongside his father, the man he adored growing up, his idol, his role model... Well, you know what they say about meeting your idols...

Here we are now, with Flameheart back near his full power and seeking more and yet... You would think Junior would be elated, even with his reserved and tempered mannerisms. Yet to my eyes... He looks the complete opposite, small, retreating... in pain even....

Let's not forget he's a Skeleton Lord, even though he's nowhere near the power level of Flameheart, he's not just a regular old skeleton... So like Duke, like Wanda... He still retains the majority of his mind. And to my knowledge... He is not bound to Flameheart by magic... only by word. Junior is an intelligent man, one who has gained the use of dark magic, and knows a great deal of disciplines from the outside world. He's a studious, patient and learned man who was trained to be very observant.

So is he having second thoughts? Is that why they changed his animations? Is he beginning to see the truth of his actions and having regrets? Has he realised that the man he's working for, isn't the matching up to the ideal image in his head? (whatever that looks like now)

It could also be he's being prepared to be sacrificed in some ritual, I could see Flameheart doing something like that to maintain his status and power... after all, his biggest fear is being beaten... and currently the biggest potential threat to him... is his right-hand man... as always. After all, it wouldn't be out of fashion for a King's closest advisor and Servant to inevitably betray them.

It would be poetic and fitting for Flameheart (should he need to be defeated at some point for plot resolution) to be beaten by his hubris again, at the hand of his second-in-command. After all, Junior had always dreamed of surpassing his father's legend... And betrayal is a founding principle of the Reaper's Bones... A founding act that Flameheart himself initiated three decades ago.

And we all know, Junior is not safe... but then, now that Flameheart is back, with a thirst for vengeance and army at his fingertips... nobody is.

Anyway, this is my long-ass theoretical ramble that I desperately needed to get out of my brain (god there is so much more i could add but this is plenty long enough so props to you if you read this marathon of prattling). I could be completely off the mark, but fair enough, but this is what I do, latch onto a character, learn the lore and theorise. :)

Anyway, let's see where the story goes, as always me and Raven will be watching from the sidelines with popcorn in hand.

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 11|William Afton x Wife!Reader (Finale)

(A/N: So this is the last chapter of the series! Like I said before it was going to be shorter since I have a specific mind in how I want to end it. However, the epilogue is actually Scrapped (Part 2 As well) which can be read on my blog. Also I know this chapter is short but that's just how I wanted to end it. Thank you for all the support and I really appreciate everything you guys have done! Who knows I might make some oneshots or headcanons as the next movie comes out but still feel free to request some if you'd like.)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

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

William had been studying tirelessly, trying to determine why it was that these creatures seemed so haunted. His wife didn't even see him for days at a time since he spent all of his time in that shut up place. He had to know the truth. This thing seemed so much like his daughter it was scaring him. Her body had passed in it, true but that didn't explain this feeling that his child was still with him. Maybe it was grief or the fact he couldn't have a proper funeral since an explanation had to be given and everything he worked for would be over. He didn't know.

Out of desperation he tore open the chest cavity and found nothing, of course there would be nothing. But it was still there. It spoke and moved as if it were fully conscious of its actions, more alive than he was at this point. It made no sense, it couldn't be made to make sense.

As he turned, he caught sight of a newspaper article he had pinned up a while ago, back when Freddy's was at its peak. He had pinned it because it made him laugh at the time, some employee fired for tampering with the animatronics telling the media that the machines were haunted and came after him in the night. Back then, William had laughed it off as a disgruntled employee trying to get back at the company because he had been fired. Now reading it the uneasy feeling grew, wondering if he hadn't just been a disgruntled employee.

Whatever was going on here, the answers weren't in this place.

They were at Freddy's.

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

The place had been abandoned all this time. Leaks and stink of rot filled his nostrils, like it had been walked out of and no one looked back. It was disgusting to see his life's work reduced to something like this so quickly. Henry was a vile pig for not taking care of everything he entrusted to him.

The suits were just as they had been, rotting and full of holes. But they were still his. His designs, his everything. He had to know, he had to know what he created.

Each one was ripped apart individually. Searching for the answers as to why his Circus Baby was haunted and if some remnant of the children he had slaughtered still remained. He was losing sleep over this series of what ifs in his brain. If he knew now he would be at peace, finally at peace.

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

Like before there was nothing. Although this time he didn't bother putting them back together. Let them rot in pieces for all he cared. Just some stupid night guard probably high out of his mind trying to make a few bucks in a lawsuit. That's all it was, he was just paranoid. He'd go home now and see his wife, his child, and forget about all of this. Just a bad dream to go away.

That's when he saw them.

The haunting figures of all those he cut down. Each of their little faces, sobbing and coming towards him. He was hallucinating, he had to be! This couldn't be real, it wasn't!

"Get back- get back!" He retreats slowly in fear, picking up a broken chair and waving it at the children to attempt to keep them at bay. However this proved unsuccessful as they refused to relent and pushed him into the corner.

"What do you want from me!?"

They refused to answer, continuing to approach their attacker.

"You vicious little beasts I said to stay back!" As he stepped closer to the wall his foot hit something hard.

Behind his back was his rotting suit, the same one used to kill these miserable children. He would be protected in there, safe inside and with metal protecting him he could escape, bring his beloved suit with him and be free of this nightmare. Hell, he'd even come back to burn it to the ground.

Quickly and without hesitation he climbs into the suit, its smelled of blood and mold but it was home. It was familiar, safe. Somewhere where he could be himself and do what he loved. Such a silly thing to be scared of, a bunch of ghosts. He was invincible in this, invincible!

"Now what will you do!? Look at how small you are, how worthless you are! I made you!" He breaks into laughter, almost embarrassed for being so afraid.

Until he feels the first lock drive itself into his flesh.

"Fuck-!" He tries to relax his breathing to avoid further malfunctions but it's fruitless.

More and more of the locks pierce his flesh, digging through flesh and bone until they're all into their original position. Trying to remove the suit just causes excruciating pain that would do more damage than good. He was going to die here. All of this, all of his dreams and ambitions. Gone. Because of his own stupidity. He had been such a fool. More measures should have been taken, and now he's stuck with the consequences. It was all over. All of it.

The edges of his vision were going black, he was going to die. He knew he was going to die. The last sight on this earth not his precious family but the faces of those he took from this world.

Rage burned inside him, it was their fault. They did this to him.

"I'll see you in hell, you hear me? I always come back, always!"

He collapsed in a pool of his own blood, thoughts of revenge burning in his mind.

Taglist:

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@fandomreader @n3r0-1417 @2pacl0ve

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 24: Silent

In the continuing adventures of me having characters not pay attention to the movies they're supposed to be watching, here we have Susanna doing her best not to distract Kiran while she watches a documentary in a nearly empty theater.

Content: Hiccups, some painful hiccups, technically public kink stuff, anxiety, arousal.

Whoever invented theater chairs that shared arms with the ones next to them could go directly to hell.

I think I always kind of had that opinion, but I had it way more now that I'd just tasted the forbidden nectar of the gods (root beer) from Kiran's cup.

I put it back as quickly as I could, but I couldn't exactly spit it out. Definitely not back into her cup, fucking gross. And I wasn't enough of an asshole to janitors to just drool it onto the floor. Which left me exactly one option.

Well, two I guess. 1. Keep a mouthful of rootbeer throughout this entire movie.

Or 2. Swallow and deal with the consequences.

I looked around and saw exactly one other person in the theater, a few rows back from us and half a dozen seats to the right. I wondered who else in the fucking universe had a reason to watch a three hour documentary that featured words like "von Neumann architecture" and "ALGOL" and shit like that. I could only be so pissed though. Kiran's eyes were sparkling, and she would turn to me every so often and say a bunch more words I didn't understand with a huge smile on her face.

...fuck, she'd probably want me to respond to some of the things she said.

Well shit, option two it was. Since I knew it was coming, I had time to make sure I didn't panic. Okay. No holding my breath. That makes things worse just as often as it cures me. Yes drinking water, but don't panic if it doesn't work, making yourself need to pee wouldn't help anything. Yes breathing slowly and steadily. Even if the case stuck around, that'd keep it manageable.

And yes keeping things fucking quiet. That was doable, and how much sound my hiccups made was usually pretty binary.

Alright. I could do this. I could give my nerdy-ass girlfriend a good movie date. I could avoid flipping my shit for no goddamn reason. Nobody would need to know.

Here we go.

I swallowed the root beer (and it tasted so fucking good what the fuck, this shit wasn't fair) and it barely took a second for my chest to thump. I gulped down a few swigs of water as soon as I could, but no such luck, because I thumped again, and then a third time.

Fuck. I officially had the hiccups. And my pulse had officially ratcheted up to, like, 200 beats per minute or something. That definitely made me start spasming faster, but they weren't too hard for now, so each one just rocked me a little. That was good. Now all I had to do was wait them out.

Yeah. Just wait out this case of the hiccups that'd gotten fast quick and kept rocking me in this soft, weirdly comfortable theater chair while I desperately tried to keep quiet and pray nobody noticed because if they noticed they might start making fun of me and telling me I'm a hiccupy little mess and—

Okay, breathe.

As I was making myself breathe halfway normally, Kiran turned to me and grabbed my arm. I kind of flinched at that, but she didn't seem to notice, thank god. "Susanna! They're talking about Prolog! This is what I was telling you about with automated theorem proving, remember?" I remembered her saying those words in that order at some point, but fuck if I knew what she was talking about. I think I might have understood it earlier, but with my brain like this I sure didn't now. But I nodded anyway, doing my best to keep my head still otherwise. She smiled widely and flapped her hands as her attention turned back to the screen.

Shit. I'd warned her that I probably wasn't going to understand this documentary, but she might have gotten excited enough to forget that. And even if she hadn't, she'd expect me to at least pay a little attention. I had to pay attention to something that wasn't the way my belly kept jolting out and pushing me back into the seat and making me rock back and forth and god fucking dammit!

They weren't getting any slower. But they were still pretty soft. It was okay. It was okay. I could do this. At the very least, I was keeping it low enough that she couldn't hear it over the audio. That was good.

Fuck, but what if they got worse though?

"Susanna—" I jumped again at her voice, and this time she actually noticed. Fuck. The smile fell off her face and she tilted her head at me. "Susanna, are you okay?" I nodded quickly, but my hiccups chose right then to start shaking me harder, and I couldn't look at her. "...do you..." her hand slowly touched down on my back, and of course I hiccuped back into it like an idiot. "Do you have the hiccups, Susanna?"

fffffffuck, she said the word. How the fuck did she turn me on so much just by saying the word? What else could I do. I nodded.

"Oh. Um..." When I looked at her again, she was looking away and her lips were pursed. Was she upset? Before I could worry too much about that, though, she turned back to me. "Those look sort of rough. Would it help if I rubbed your back or your chest?"

...what?

I nodded slowly, and she smiled at me like the angel she fucking was. "Okay. And if you need to leave, you can. But, um..." she blushed. "I-is it okay if I stay here? I sort of...I can't...I want to focus on this?"

"O-of course th---that's okay! *nnk!*" One of them made an audible noise and I clapped a hand over my mouth. She giggled. Fuck, Kiran was giggling. How the fuck was I supposed to deal with this? "We're here for th---the movie. For y---you to enj---joy it."

Her lips pursed again. "I want you to enjoy this date too though..." after a few moments, she tugged my arm and I slowly stood up, and then she pulled me over and she

oh fuck, she sat me in her fucking lap.

She held me from behind and rubbed my chest, pulling me so my head was resting between her breasts and fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. "Is this comfortable, Susanna?" I nodded. "Alright. You don't have to try and keep them all completely silent. If you need a break from doing that, I could, um..." I looked up and saw that she was flushed. "I-I could muffle them for you. With my hand. Or you could use me for that."

I imagined having her hand over my hiccuping mouth and unlocked a new sub-kink. God fucking dammit.

But yeah. Yeah. This was okay. This was better than okay. This was perfect. I nodded more. "Okay. Tell me if there's anything you need. But, um, I'm going to focus on the movie again now, okay?" I nodded as hard as fucking possible, and somehow I could feel her smiling from behind me. And as my hiccups kept going, she kept talking about shit I didn't understand in the movie, even when I actually did pull her hand up and have her start holding my hiccups back for me. I wasn't distracting her. It was okay.

I still did my best to keep them silent, though. Just for my own sake. If anyone but my partners ever heard me hiccup, I might literally evaporate.

Which made the fact that I kind of still wanted that to happen really weird, but what could you do.

[fushiglow]

sooo... can we all agree that this fight is definitely ending next week???

some (lots of) thoughts on the jjk 234 leaks below!!

i feel like i'm the only person who's still really enjoying this fight??? like i think it's great????? anyway.

i can't believe megumi had a TIGER SHIKIGAMI??? and now it's just GONE????? honestly, ever since the yorozu fight i've been bummed out by how much of megumi's growth sukuna has taken from him, but this one *really* hurt.

i convinced myself that gege would save the tenth shadow for the boy's big comeback (because i'm an idiot) 😭 i know there's still a ton of potential in megumi's domain but his precious animals!!!! ugh.

although speaking of comebacks — "how long are you gonna make me wait? you're no longer fushiguro's shadow, you're MINE" is suspicious as hell 👀 is mahoraga reluctant to follow sukuna's wishes??? WHY????

as for gojo, turns out he *is* the strongest because he's gojo satoru. i've got so much respect for him after all this, he doesn't even need to win to prove himself.

when hakari said gojo told them only to intervene when he's weaker than them, i laughed out loud. he's there with half an arm, no rct left, brain damage from using his domain too much, and you're telling me we're *still* not at that point?? like i knew the gulf between him and the next strongest was big but not THAT big??? just how strong is he???? 💀💀💀

as a side note, i'm *so* happy to see that the students have a plan in place!! and i love that gojo wasn't too proud to make one — although we knew that already. i hope we get more insight into what's happened over the last month in the coming chapters. (also will everyone stop coming for my boy yuta now??? he was just worried about his sensei!!)

still, i feel like the peek into the future on the last page spells either victory or death for gojo. the insight into sukuna's thoughts was very welcome and i'm glad to see that he's sweating as much as gojo right now. however, the dialogue about win conditions at the start of the chapter keeps playing on my mind. a lot could happen in 41 seconds and there's no guarantee that gojo is still standing by the time that hollow purple hits.

(by the way, are we thinking it's the same purple from the start of this fight swinging back around like red did a couple of chapters ago?? or is this the unlimited hollow thing from last week??? confusion)

i have no idea how this fight will end, but it definitely feels like next week's chapter will mark the conclusion. it lines up with the end of the volume, so it seems likely. anyone brave enough to make any solid predictions???

i keep changing my mind about what's going to happen. like i know we've all convinced ourselves that gojo will die (probably to prepare ourselves for the worst) but it seems too predictable for gege. i think he's done well to keep us guessing for this many months though.

anyway, the essay i started writing about gojo a few weeks ago has turned into a monster essay about gain and loss and karmic cycles and how they play out in this fight. unlikely that anyone else will care but i've spent too long rotting my brain over it not to post so... maybe later this week??

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

4 Minutes Theory:

What Dr. Den Doesn't Know

Hello. It is I again.

You know the procedure: It's under the cut.

Let's go.

Is It Dream Theory???

I think I could've started by explaining the things that made me consider the theory that I propose today BUT, I think it's only fair to address the elephant in the room first:

Are the events of 4 Minutes dream theory?

Look: maybe I'm wrong and I just fucking hate dream theory bc it's so overused, unoriginal and pointless but I wanna (and I do) believe it's not what's going on. Well... Not exactly.

Let's take it apart.

My favourite guy over here ^ (look at him, he's beautiful and he's precious and I love him, I wanna keep him inside my house and feed him treats, 'cause he's such a good boy), Dr. Den, is, and we know this since the beginning, conducting a study on what happens to people's brains when they go into cardiac arrest.

More especifically, he wants to know what happens to the brain within the 4 minutes during which it is still alive and without oxygen (before the person either dies or gets medical help).

For this, bc

(Yes, thank you, Pirates of the Caribbean) Dr. Den is collecting information through the people that have survived that experience. And, so far what we knew was: people have weird experiences when their brain doesn't have oxygen. Which, fair enough, that much was expected.

HOWEVER, this episode (or ep.5, for the people in the future. btw hi 👋) he get LORE through Dr. Den, my our favourite medical exposition guy. And here's what he says:

"Patients' perceptions vary based on their experiences. Some relive past experiences. Some have supernatural powers. Some go back to fix past mistakes. Some get a fresh start with those they love.

Patients' experiences feel real but they aren't entirely accurate. Patients can see memories, hear sounds or feel brief sensations of pain. Even if it is unrelated to what else is going on."

So this might seem pretty revealing and easy to understand: what we've seen so far was going on in Great's brain. This is his dream and it's what his brain is making up to keep him going during the 4 minutes where it nervously waits for someone to rescue it from impending doom.

And yes, I'm not crazy enough to say that's wrong but... Every situation has at least 3 versions of it, we say in Portuguese: mine, yours and the others'. And what I believe we need to see here is that:

What we know is merely what people remember when they wake up and what the medical staff can tell is happening to the body whose brain is 4 minutes without oxygen. It is NOT the whole truth. Not even close.

What Is It Then?

See, I could try and show the evidence first and then make a conclusion but I wanna hit you with a banger theory right away so Imma say it rn:

People's dreams when their brains have no oxygen in them are gateways that generate alternative realities.

And I hear you say: "okay but that's last week's theory, that's not new" and yes, you're correct HOWEVER, under the light of episode 5's events I feel like I need to prove this again. So let's hit it, Fergie!

1 - Dr. Den Recognizes He Has No Idea What the Time Travel Thing Is

Now, I know this might just mean Den recognizes he can't explain why it seems many people seem to experience this exact phenomenon of the 4 minutes time travel (which by itself is weird and opens up room for debate on what it means, even on a purely medical level) but I believe it can be used as evidence that something else is going on. That whatever that time travel means it goes being current human medicine, you know?

Even if not, it does prove my earlier point that what we're seing is only a fraction of the truth, that there is more to uncover. And a clear indication of the series (although it might be subtle to many) that we should be looking beyond on what lies on the surface and what Den is telling us.

2 - We're Being Shown Events in the Timeline Where Great Has Powers that Great Couldn't Possibly Know Because He Wasn't There

This is one of the strongest evidence points for me. Because explain to me how and why this man knows what Tyme told his grandma this episode.

Or how he knows conversations that happened between Dome and the medical staff?

Sure, Ig you can argue that maybe his brain imagines that's what happens, especially in Tyme's case since, I suppose it would be a nice thing to keep going for to think that your lover is rushing your way but... He barely knows Dome outside of being his classmate so that rule doesn't apply there. The events of Dome's life are, matter of fact, nearly irrelevant to Great's life (outside of the way in which they change Tonkla and Korn's relationship and, therefore, Korn's actions - which is why he was so hurt this episode to be demanded to let Tonkla go, since Tonkla's brother never dies and so he never met Win, thus they never broke up).

And what does anyone even have to say about what we're shown about Dr. Den's research? How does Great know that? Is he making it up? Does he know this in the original universe? How? He doesn't have the powers in the original universe, does he? Did Tyme tell him? Just casually? Idk, it could be, but...

Based on a very good point @yakdee (great URL btw) made on this post about how different the circumstances, motives and depth of GreatTyme's relationship and how they seem to be way more distant than in the current timeline, I do believe it's farfetched to think that Tyme would give Great any free info on his life and that of people around him. Much less on something so specific and seemingly uninteresting to Tyme (how can he, that topic is fascinating) as Den's research. I don't think it would even come to his mind. Matter of fact, I think it's only more prevalent to him in the current timeline bc of what Great told him. Otherwise, he couldn't care less.

Plus, if we think about it more closely... How many lives is Great's brain processing at once, then?? Isn't that kind of a lot?? Doesn't it make more sense for this to be an entirely different timeline where this things ARE happening??

PS: I know I could've also used Korn's dialogues as evidence but since he's the bridge between Great and Tonkla, I think it's hard to use his scenes as evidence for anything bc they could be happening in either Past 1 (the bad past with a bit of an oddity) or Past 2 (the past where Great time travels) [if you want to understand more of why I refer to these timelines this way, pls check out my previous theory]. I don't tink they change much regardless, Korn seems to be the person whose life is the least affected by the changes, out of all the main characters, but... Regardless, I don't think it's good practice to build over a shaky foundation so I have not.

3 - Great Can't Fix His Mother's Death

Now tell me why

(Ain't nothing but a heartache and a mistake, indeed, my friends) But that wasn't where I was going...

What I meant was: if your brain is making up a better reality where you can fix everything you did wrong, then why the fuck would it choose for your mother to die anyway??? Why, out of all things, was the only thing you could never fix your mom dying??

And sure, I know, I know, people will make the argument that it's the trauma and, like, yeah, Ig if you wanna believe that, that must've been that man's most traumatic moment, sure, I agree. But is that enough? The answer, I think, is: we don't know. Maybe, maybe not...

So... You can believe whatever, so far, I suppose, but the fact is that it leaves it open to interpretation why the events are so. Which means, it can be speculated that, the actual reason behind she dying again is because, for the 1st time since we've started to see Great's trajactory with his powers, he made the wrong choices.

And this is not me saying he's dumb, by the way, like... It's easy to ask for help for someone who's dying. It's only midly hard to land a punch on an murderer, even when he's your best friend. And it's certainly not unthinkable to open up to your crush, even when what you have to reveal is that you're a little bit crazy.

But I think it's extremely hard to stop a man with a gun. Even when your mom's life is on the line.

In a way, maybe, there is no timeline where Great can change that moment when it comes. Maybe timelines where he can avoid that moment from happening in the first place, yeah... But none in which he can avoid it if it's already there. (remember what I said about Greek Tragidies last week? yeah... it's coming up nicely)

And maybe this is not evidence for some people, which I respect, but to me, narrative intent and logic can be used to make a point. And I think making certain tragidies repeat themselves is part of what the narrative of 4 minutes is about too.

I know last time I talked about the power of people's actions and butterfly effect but that is only part of reality. A lot is under our control but a lot also isn't. And I think it's fair to assume, if the 1st part of this series was about the power, the 2nd will be about the impotence (which is not the sexual kind but I think the amount of sex we've seen in the 1st part is definitely a narrative tool and the fact this was the 1st episode without any sex scene [the flashbacks obviously don't count] is also being one).

Thus, my theory makes narrative sense.

4 - Tonkla's Weird Experiences Exist Outside of Great's Knowledge AND the Timeline He's In

Okay, I get it. It is possible to find alternative explanations to what I'm interpreting here and maybe that makes you doubt me. Fair. But then explain to me what the actual fuck is happening to Tonkla. Pls.

How is that man hearing his dead brother's voice? Seeing his dead cat walk around??

What does that mean? How can we be seing that if it's just all in Great's head??

I explained in my earlier theory (please check it out) that we're being given direct access to 3 different timelines: the one where Great is in the ER (pre-opening scenes), the one where Great has superpowers (Great-related scenes) and the one where Tonkla hears his brother and sees the cat (Tonkla-related scenes).

Based on that I can't possibly assume Great in the ER who's creating the timeline of Great with superpowers knows what's going on in the Tonkla timeline. He just can't. How would he even? He has no idea (as far as we know) who Tonkla is, that Dome is his brother, that bro had a cat that got killed by his father and that he buried it in Uni grounds... So we can't place that, no matter what, as just another figment of Great's imagination. Those events have to be real.

And if those events, which seem to be caused by Great's interference with the space-time continuum, are real, then that means, no doubts, that the Great Has Powers timeline also has to be.

So What Does It Mean??

Good question, Miley.

Luckily I have a beautifully tragic answer for you:

It means that when/if Great wakes up from the ER in his timeline nothing will have changed. The events of his life will be exactly the same and life will go on with the consequences of the choices he made the first time. Just like they are for Lukwa who woke up exactly in the same universe as she lost consciousness.

HOWEVER, while for that Great things will be as shitty as they were when he left, it also means that, far away from him, just like there must be another Timeline for Lukwa, there is a different timeline, with a Great who made different choices and, therefore, got a different end.

How different? I don't know. We're yet to see. But I think when we know, we'll be able to compare the two or three (maybe even more, we'll see now that the Great with Powers is also without oxygen in his brain) timelines we're being shown and take our own conclusions about the weight of our actions and the meaning of mistakes.

Final Thoughts

I think this series is doing a great job of making us question a lot of things like what is reality, how time works, what is the real weight of a choice, what is a choice, etc... And I can't wait to see where it leads us. I'm really hyped to understand this narrative.

As usual, if you guys wanna comment or add anything or ask anything or whatever it is, please do! Let's give soul to this fandom and interact with each other, yeah?

In the meantime...

All the love! 💜💜💜

[hispieceofcake]

🍕Headcanons about Steve Raglan/William Afton that in my head make sense —🔪⊹₊ ⋆. ₊˚ .⊹

Hello hello people, I was at school at 6 am, dying of sleep, while some people in the class were recovering from a test (but not me) and so I thought about writing some headcanons that in my opinion would make sense or maybe just in my head. It's those types of thoughts where you think about what the character would be like in a daily domestic routine and such.

Warning: I should have posted this a few days ago but I forgot and I'm posting it now, I'm so forgetful.

•He likes strong coffee or black coffee

It's just a thought that came to me when I was watching that scene with him offering coffee to Mike. There is no information that proves this, it is just my thought because it seems to make sense. I also think he likes whiskey or drinks with a strong taste.

•He likes rabbits

I think this is a little obvious given the Animatronic costume he wears and chooses to wear. I think it makes sense given the idea that he made the animatronic. Some might say he just used the animatronic suit to kill without being seen and have his identity cleared, but like, he could have made the animatronic suit for any other animal, but he did of a yellow rabbit, so to me it kind of makes sense that he likes the animal.

• He called Vanessa his bunny when she was a child

I know he probably didn't even like Vanessa and only raised her out of obligation as a father, but I don't know, it's a cute thought I had, even if it's a little hard to think of him being affectionate with her. Since he practically tried to kill her the first opportunity he had when she refused to kill Mike and shot him.

• He didn’t have a good sleep routine (at least in the timeline where Mike was working at the pizzeria)

I think that after he found out that Mike was the brother of a child he had killed years ago and that his older brother was now after him, it made him a little worried and cautious. Well, he was close to being discovered if Mike managed to discover more of the past, and then I think he watched Mike through cameras at the pizzeria in his own house and sent Vanessa to go watch Mike. And obviously, he would lose a good few hours of sleep with this, since Mike's shift was from 6 in the afternoon until 6 in the morning.

• He divorced his ex-wife

This is because a lot of people have that question of whether he "killed her or divorced her", and I think he just gets divorced and that's it, because otherwise I think Vanessa would tell Mike more just when she reveals to him that Steve Raglan, who was actually William Afton, was her father and the children's killer. I don't think it makes sense for him to have killed her since if that were the case Vanessa would say or she just suffered such a strong trauma with the discovery of her mother's death that she forgot about it, how sometimes the brain has a mechanism to try to forget traumatic memories as a form of self-protection.

• He smokes

I'm not so sure about this one, I saw some art and drawings online of him smoking and in my head it makes sense that he smokes, it's not information about the character, but I don't know, in my head It makes sense that he smokes like those tired fathers and men, I would say he was both types if he wasn't such a horrible father to Vanessa.

• He forced Vanessa to join the police

I thought of this headcanon because I think it would make sense that he forced Vanessa to join the police when she grew up because then he would have connections in the police, which would keep him safe and out of sight to continue committing his crimes without anyone suspecting him. And if they did, he would have his own police daughter to use and keep his record clean. And well, he would have no difficulty in forcing Vanessa to do this and having him protect her from the police, since as we see, Vanessa is very traumatized and is extremely afraid of her father.

Anyway guys, that's what I have for now, I plan to write more in a next post, I'm posting this now because I'm out of ideas and I should have posted this a few days ago, but I forgot.

Thank you for reading, bunny kisses. 💗🐰