#sorry for being so lat

[ofthehands]

Day 7- It's a Nice Picture

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

A bit late, such is, but still here before the deadline lol. I just wanna say thank you for running this whole thing, it's been a lot of fun, and the prompts have gotten me writing and drawing more than I have been in a long time.

This one is a longer pre-Franknub/ Franknub adjacent short about Nubbins taking the same picture over and over again. 15,000 words. Warnings for main character death (like a lot, but they get better, it's a time loop), canon-typical violence (including the brother on brother variety), some ableism, gay homophobe Drayton moments, and general Sawyer-isms.

It's a Nice Picture

Nubbins could feel his blood pumping, and he knew he was alive. He chased the girl down, stumbling a bit as he went, and slashing her all the while. She screamed and he laughed. Everything had been boring since Bobby left for Vietnam, so having an actual dinner guest and getting to play with her like this was great fun for Nubbins. He hadn’t had this much fun in- well- in a long time. She ran towards the road. He hoped she’d get her foot stuck in the cattle guard- that had happened to someone they had for dinner before- but she stepped over it and into the road. Bubba was catching up, Nubbins could hear the buzzsaw purring, so he picked up the pace. He wanted as much time playing with this girl as he could get- before everything got boring again- before Cook tried to reel them back in. He ran onto the road with her, catching her for a second, and cutting her again and again across the back, giggling. She elbowed him hard in the chin, and he got angry- slashing at her harder. He thought he heard Bubba say something, but he didn’t know what it was. And he probably never would. He heard the truck, turned, and yelped, and then he was under it. There wasn’t much after that. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t smell much but blood. There was pain, for a brief moment, and Bubba wailing and some indescribable feeling. The last thing he was conscious of was the blood. Nubbins could feel his blood pumping, and he knew that he was dead. 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Not consciously, but just because he was supposed to. Then he regained control. Nubbins was in the van. He was back in the van. And it was morning. The day before he died.  “Wh-what? Did- did you see that?” he asked. They had to know. It was the day they died- they should know like he knew. 

“See what?” asked the less friendly of the two guys in the back. 

“The- the screamin’ and the blood and- and the truck!” Nubbins said. “Y-you was there!” he said, to the purple shirt girl. 

“What’s he talkin’ about?” asked the driver. 

“I think he’s got heat stroke,” said the girl who died easier. 

“Oh! Well uh, I think we got some water ‘round here somewhere,” said the boy in the chair. 

“Would that even help with heat stroke?” asked the girl in purple. 

“I- I dunno but- would you like that? Would you like some water?” 

“I-” Nubbins paused. Something was wrong. Something had happened. “I… I gotta get home. I need to go home-” Nubbins reached for the car door and the guy sitting on the floor grabbed his arm. 

“Woah- man-” Nubbins open palm smacked him in the face loud enough the driver turned around, gently telling the stranger to let go of him. The van goers gasped, and floor guy flinched hard, like he was so weak that hurt him, and touched Nubbins’ blood where it ran down his face. 

“Hey!” the driver yelled. 

“I’m gettin’ out of the van!” Nubbins yelled, throwing open the door. Everyone started hollering something between ‘don’t do that’ and ‘Jerry, stop the van’, and ‘What the fuck is wrong with you’ as Nubbins hurled himself out of the moving vehicle, landing on the grass with only minor scrapes. The van slowed down as quick as it could, and they started to get out, the chair boy asking if he was okay as Nubbins rushed into the brush, determined to get back home as soon as possible. 

Bubba was okay. That was good. But he was no help in figuring out what the hell had happened to Nubbins. Nubbins explained it, again and again, and again, and Bubba tried really hard to help, but they were both just getting more frustrated. It had almost got to a screaming match when they heard a knock at the door. Nubbins and Bubba both looked at each other in shock. 

Nobody ever knocked on the door. There was some yelling, and Nubbins recognized the voice of floor guy. Then he heard him come in the house. Bubba started babbling, almost crying, and he tried to hide behind Nubbins. The guy kept getting closer, walking down the halls. Nubbins took the sledge from the table and slowly walked to the hall. 

“Hello?” called floor guy. Nubbins didn’t greet him, he just pulled the hammer back and smashed it into his skull- just like cattle- just like Grandpa taught him! Floor guy fell writhing to the ground in one good hit. Grandpa would be so proud- this was why Nubbins was his favorite! Then he heard the girl. 

“Bubba- drag- drag this guy back in. I’ll deal with her.” Nubbins crept into the living room, following after the girl. She stumbled into their living room and then started screaming and crying something awful, staring up at their couch. What a bitch! No one had ever been more mean about Nubbins’ art, and he lived with Cook. Nubbins bashed her head in quick too. He would play with her more- especially for being so mean about his art- but he kept thinking about how proud Grandpa would be that he killed her so well. “Is this- is this what happened last time?” Nubbins asked. Bubba shrugged. “Shut up!” Nubbins snapped, even though Bubba hadn’t said anything. He dragged the girl to the kitchen, and Bubba started slaughtering them, trying to stay out of Nubbins’ way much the way he did Cook’s. Bubba analyzed the girl’s face briefly, and then mumbled to Nubbins. “Y-you like that face?” Bubba shrugged. “There- there’s another girl who’ll show up soon. She got a better face, you’ll like her face better.” Bubba carried on, at that, packing the easier to kill girl into the icebox. Nubbins helped to package the meat off the floor guy as Bubba cut it, on instinct. Nubbins tried, really really hard, to think this through. 

He had this day once before. Then he died at the end of it. Then he was back in the van. Nubbins had never really heard of anything like that before- not even in stories or TV. But he had heard Cook bitching about wishing he had a second chance at life for as long as Nubbins could remember. So maybe that was what he meant. Nubbins got a second chance. He just had to do things right this time. 

The driver of the van came next, and Bubba got him pretty easy. Bubba started worrying, that more people might be coming, and talking about going out to check the property. Nubbins would normally think that was stupid- nobody would come foolin’ around on the Sawyer property. But he also knew Bubba told Cook he found the boy in the chair and the purple shirt girl in the woods near the house. So he agreed, and they went. Nubbins was worried they wouldn’t find them, but the pair made it easy. 

“Jerry!” called the girl. 

“Jerry!” repeated the boy. This was where it really counted. If they took the girl home for dinner, then the same thing would happen and Nubbins would waste his second chance. So, they had to change things up a little. 

“Okay Bubba- I- I know these two. There’s- there’s a guy in a chair, and he can’t get away easy, and there’s a girl with these long white pants, and she’s a real runner. She- she uh- she’s real mean and she could slip away from us and get us in trouble easy. So- so you kill her first! And then uh- then we take the boy home to feed Grandpa! Yeah!” Bubba nodded, and the pair of fools got closer. Bubba and Nubbins crept up, Nubbins deciding to go wide and flank them, and Bubba slinking up surprisingly quietly in front of them. Then he heard the saw roar and some sweet, sweet screams. 

“Sally! Sally no- Oh God- Oh no-” Nubbins ran out from the brush, then, behind the boy in the chair. “Oh God! No!” he yelped. “Wh- I didn’t mean to make you mad- I’m- I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I- I like your picture I-”

“Shut up!” Nubbins said. “You’re comin’ with us.” He tried to push the chair, but the guy turned the wheels off somehow- jamming down some little break. “Hey! Wh- don’t do that!” 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you!” 

“Bubba, grab the chair-” Bubba started talking, pointing at the body of the girl- split right up the middle. “We gonna get her in a minute- she ain’t goin’ anywhere. J-just- help me c-carry him!” Bubba sighed, putting down the saw, and picking up one end of the chair. The two of them carried him off- like Grandpa- all while he complained. Nubbins got everything set up perfect, while Bubba went back for the body and the saw. This dinner was gonna be so perfect, even Cook wouldn’t be able to complain! 

It was about half an hour before Cook got home. When he did, the old man walked in and started searching around, suspicious-like. 

“Hey Cook! Cook! Lookit what we got!” Nubbins called. He came quickly, glaring and getting ready to fight, when he laid eyes on Franklin. 

“Oh my God- you’re the fella from the gas station- I- Please- they kidnapped me and-!” 

“Shut your mouth!” Cook snapped, then he went back to suspicion. “That’s uh…” Cook looked around, glaring this way and that, at Nubbins downstairs, at Grandpa already down for dinner. Bubba was hiding in the kitchen, expecting him to come home mad, but Nubbins had him this time. There was nothing to be mad about. “Did you stay home all day with your brother? Like I told you?” He was genuinely shocked. 

“Y-yeah! Jus’ like you t-told me-”

“Nuh-uh!” said Franklin. 

“Wh- Shut up!” Nubbins snapped at him. 

“He was out hitchhiking! He was out hitchhiking all day-”

“Wh- whu- fuck you!” 

“Did you lie to me?” Cook snapped, starting to puff up like an angry rooster. 

“No! Nuh uh! H-he’s just t-tryin’ to get me in tr-trouble!” 

“You deserve to be in trouble! ‘Cause you’re a liar- and a murderer and-”

“Shut your mouth!” Nubbins hissed. He had never had a victim so damn noisy! Cook stormed into the kitchen. Bubba flattened out, trying to look as small as possible. 

“You!” Cook snapped. Bubba flattened further and pointed at himself. “Was your brother here? Was he lookin’ after you all day? Or did he run off?” 

“Leatherface!” Nubbins said. “Tell him the tr-truth! Tell him I was here!” 

“Shut up, you!” Cook snapped. Bubba, stuck between a hard place and a rock, sold out Nubbins. 

“You’re a bitch, Leatherface!” Nubbins snapped. Cook hit him hard, but open handed, on the top of his head. The brooming in his first chance hurt more, and he took that as Cook being forced to admit at least a little that they did good. 

“Did you get all of ‘em?” Cook asked. 

“Yeah! We did- we got all of ‘em! And the one we saved for Grandpa- h-he can’t even get away!” Nubbins proclaimed, running over to Franklin’s chair and rocking it back and forth. 

“Well… I… Alright. Let’s… Let’s give Grandpa a whack.” 

Grandpa struggled just as much in this chance as he did Nubbins’ first chance. But, since Franklin couldn’t get away, he got more and more tries. He was greeted with a chorus of excitement with each swing, all his grandsons cheering him on as he tried again and again, slowly but surely bashing Franklin’s head in. Franklin screamed, and cussed at them occasionally, but though he was a lot bigger than Sally, he couldn’t do much more. Nubbins almost felt bad for him. Franklin seemed like an okay guy. If they were brothers, or cousins or something they would have been best friends, he could feel it. But Franklin was an outsider. So he had to die. One. “Harder Grandpa!” Two. “Get him! Get that bitch!” Three. “Kill him! Kill him!” Four. “C’mon Grandpa!” And on his fifth hit, there was a vicious crack, and Franklin went limp- the special kind of limp only the dead could go. The Sawyer brothers erupted in cheers, feeding Grandpa blood, and telling him again and again how he was the best. Grandpa seemed overwhelmed with the joy too, moving around in almost a little dance, and then finally, rising from his chair, actually standing up to bash Franklin in the head one more time. Nubbins was overjoyed, it was such a great way for his second chance to end! Then, suddenly as he rose, Grandpa fell. He collapsed directly forward, and all the brothers failed to catch him. 

“Grandpa?” asked Cook, shocked as the rest of them. “Oh God- Oh fuck! Boy- he- he- all that excitement mighta done gave Grandpa a heart attack-” Cook moved over quick as he could to try and lift him, to feel for his pulse. Nubbins didn’t know what to do- this wasn’t right- this wasn’t how his second chance should go! Maybe Grandpa wasn’t dead- maybe he would be okay- but- 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Then he paused. The van goers kept saying some shit he didn’t care about. Nubbins was back. Back in the van. I get a third chance? he thought. He never heard of third chances before. But he had one. So he was gonna get it right this time. Nubbins jumped out of the van again, this time without saying a word. 

He figured it out. The first two times, Franklin died. So, for a good chance, Franklin would have to live. Then nobody in Nubbins’ family had to die. So this time, he did everything mostly the same. Until it came to that moment in the woods. 

“Sally! Sally no- Oh God- Oh no-” Nubbins ran out from the brush, then, behind the boy in the chair. “Oh God! No!” he yelped. “Wh- I didn’t mean to make you mad- I’m- I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I- I like your picture I-”

“Yeah?” Nubbins said. “Y-you like it?”

“Yeah- I- I really do.”

“Okay, you can go then.” 

“What?” Franklin asked. 

“You can go. I- I’m not mad at you no more.”

“Y-you murdered my sister because-”

“Oh- we uh- we killed them to eat,” Nubbins said. “F-for food! Now uh… go! G-get out of here before we eat you too!” Bubba did not like that- not at all. He knew Cook was gonna be red-hot mad about it. But Nubbins figured it was fine. His third chance was going to go well. 

And it did. Everything was perfect. Franklin wasn’t even there to snitch on Nubbins for hitchhiking, and Cook was pleasantly surprised. 

“You… You stayed with your brother? Like I asked?” 

“Y-yeah! All day. I- I went around outside a little during the day, but I stayed near the house,” Nubbins lied. 

“I…. It’s been a long damn day. You know? There’s been… There’s been reports, about some of the people we took, and cops and… They’re gettin’ closer. And I… I appreciate you stayin’ with Bubba. Makin’ sure everything’s alright around here… If they ever got to us I’d…” Cook looked far away. Nubbins knew he had a plan if the cops ever caught them for real, and he knew it involved everyone sitting at the dinner table facing the wall while Cook went and got the gun. The Sawyer family owned one old shotgun, which nobody but Grandpa ever ever got to touch, until Grandpa had gotten too old and handed control of the house and shotgun over to Cook. Cook was always real freaked out talking about the day he would have to use the gun, which Nubbins understood. Their whole lives Grandpa made a big big deal about never touching it, and if any of the boys so much as opened the cabinet it was in, they would get a real beating. Nubbins didn’t like being anywhere near it. But Nubbins was always kind of excited for the day Cook actually had to use it. He had only ever seen guns in movies, and heard from Bobby what it was like using guns in Vietnam. He hoped if Cook ever had to use the gun, that he would get to watch. “Eh- never mind all that. You know- if you stay in and watch Bubba like that- I’ll- I’ll make you boys some head cheese, and bring you some cokes from the gas station.” Bubba came around then, to greet Cook, realizing he was in a good mood that evening. “Hey there Bubba. Heard you spent the afternoon with your big brother. Was it good?” Bubba nodded, and Cook smiled a little, earnestly. Cook didn’t smile much. 

“Did anybody come by the house today? Or was it quiet?” he asked, taking off his old boots. 

“Oh uh- there- there was a whole bunch of t-teenagers. Who kept comin’ in the house. But uh- m-me and Bubba took care of it.” Then, Cook asked the same question he always did. 

“Did you get ‘em all?” And for some fucking reason, Bubba told him the truth.

“Leatherface! D-don’t-” But it was way too late. Cook grabbed the old thin three branch he kept by the door, his smile completely dead and his face getting red real quick. 

 “Y… You let one go?” he asked. “You- You let one fucking go!?” Cook rounded on Nubbins immediately, switch in hand, hitting him again and again and again, “Do you know what you’ve done!? Do you know what you’ve fucking done!? Everything is gone! Everything! Everything!” Cook yelled, his voice getting hoarse quick. “You dumb fucking idiot! You stupid-” Smack. “Useless!” Smack. “Idiot!” Smack. Cook had beaten Nubbins a lot in his lifetime but never like this- the man was putting his whole body into it. 

“I was doin’ what was best for us! ‘C-Cause of my chances!” Nubbins tried to explain. Everything was falling apart. This wasn’t what his chance was supposed to be- Cook wasn’t supposed to be so mad at him. Things were supposed to go better. 

“Doin’ what was best for us?! Boy- That fucking thing you let go is gonna bring a whole mess of cops down on us! A whole mess of cops and they’re gonna try and- and take you both away! They’re gonna wanna fucking hang us when they find out what we do!” Cook yelled. For a second Nubbins thought he might have a heart attack, like Grandpa did. “You know what I’m gonna have to do?” Cook asked, voice breaking. “You know what you’re gonna make me do?” Nubbins couldn’t understand why he was like this- why he was so mean all the time- why he never listened to him or cared about him more than what he had to to keep him alive. Nubbins was sick of it and angry and tired from all the chances and the dying and he could feel welts forming on his back from how hard Cook had beaten him. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Nubbins stormed into the dining room and he got the hammer. If he had waited just a second, he would have seen that Cook had dropped the switch. If he had waited just a second, he would have noticed that whatever was coming for them now had upset Cook so much he’d actually started to sob. If he had waited a second, maybe they could have gotten through all this. But Nubbins didn’t wait. He chucked that hammer full force at Cook’s head, and realized all those things after the off-white wall behind him was painted red. 

Cook stumbled. Dazed for just a second. Then he fell back. Onto the ground. There was blood. There was so, so much blood. Head wounds bleed a lot. Nubbins knew that from when he was the killer. But it was different when it was family. It was different when it was Drayton. Nubbins made his way over to him carefully. 

“Drayton?” Nubbins asked softly. Bubba stood a few feet from them, too scared to move. Drayton wasn’t getting up. He was blinking real slow. “D-Drayton? Are you okay? I- I didn’t mean to hit you th-that hard,” he said. His older brother looked up at him. His unfocused eyes locked in on Nubbins as best as they could. 

“I… I hate you,” Drayton said, as firmly as he could with his shaky voice. Blood ran freely down his head, dribbling onto his face, darkening all the hair he had. “I… I always knew… From the first time I held you… That you boys would be the death of me… But I… Never woulda thought…” Drayton went still. Limp in a way that just wasn’t right- in a way a living person just couldn’t be. Nubbins was silent. Everything was silent. 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Nubbins didn’t wanna do this. He didn’t want to play this game anymore. He was sick of chances- he was sick of all this. He was tired, and sick, and now he knew his brother hated him. Even if these chances ended, how was he supposed to deal with that? He crumpled in on himself and took the picture with him, stuffing it promptly in his little bag. 

“Are you alright?” asked the girl who died easier. 

“You look like you seen a ghost,” Franklin said. Nubbins sort of had. He was seeing ghosts all day. But he didn’t care to explain it to these people. He just wanted his big brother. Drayton was mean, and vicious, and hurt him a lot, but he didn’t know any other kind of care, any other kind of love. Nobody else had ever taken care of him. Drayton was all he had. He had to fix this. He had to make this right. 

“I… I… C-can you take me to the gas station?” 

“To the gas station?” asked the floor guy. 

“M-my brother w-works there- he… He works there- at the gas station by uh- on- on the way. It’s- it’s the way you’re goin’, and it’s- it’s the only gas station before Childress- I just-”

“We do need some gas,” said the driver. 

“You think you might could get us a discount?” asked the dead girl. “Since your brother works there and all.” 

“N-no. If I asked he’d really probably charge you more,” Nubbins said, truthfully. A lot of them sort of laughed, and Nubbins felt like he had been flicked on the end of his nose. He didn’t know what was funny to them. If they were laughing with him or at him. He glared at the people in the van, and wanted to hit them or cut them or start throwing some of their stuff. But he needed a ride, so Nubbins would do his best to be good. Or at least good enough to not get kicked out of the van. 

“Yeah, we’ll head that way and drop you off there, shouldn’t be any problem,” the driver said. There was a lull in conversation, and Nubbins was happy with that. Franklin, though, not so much. 

“So uh… Were you just out photographing the slaughter house?” Franklin asked. “Or uh- do you- do you photograph a lot of different things?” Nubbins looked up at him. This was all his fault, somehow. Nubbins didn’t understand why he would do all this. He looked nice. He had thick curly hair, and a nice pair of round lips, and big eyebrows, like a pair of wooly worms on his face. He had a good face. And he was real nice to Nubbins, talking to him and showing him his knife and things like that. And yet Franklin had done this to him- sticking him with these chances. And that wasn’t nice. Nubbins was going to pout and give him the silent treatment for being so mean, but he didn’t like being silent normally, and now the silence was giving room in his brain for pictures of the chances- again and again. He couldn’t deal with that. 

“I uh… I take lots of pictures.” He tried to remember which pictures he could talk about with strangers, and which he could only talk about with family, but Drayton never really made that line clear, because he mostly just said to never talk to strangers. “I uh- I take pictures of my brothers! And uh- I- I take pictures of people I meet. On the road. Oh- And -and of roadkill!” 

“Roadkill?” asked the dead girl. “Why would you wanna take pictures of that?”

“Well uh… Whenever I take pictures of living animals, they don’t turn out so good. Th-they run around and mess it up. Roadkill don’t do that so much.” The driver laughed at that, and then the others, and Nubbins shifted. 

“I guess so, man,” said floor guy. 

“Oh uh! We never really got introduced, uh, I’m Franklin,” Franklin said. “This is Sally, my sister.” That was why those two always came in a pair. They were family. 

“I’m Kirk,” said floor guy. 

“Pam,” said the dead girl. 

“Jerry.” Nubbins actually kind of knew that one, he just didn’t care enough about Jerry to think of calling him that. 

“What’s your name?” Franklin asked. 

“Oh uh… I’m- I’m…” Drayton always told them never ever to tell the victims their real names. Just in case. And Nubbins knew all too well how mad he’d get if he thought the cops were going to come to their house. The welts were gone, and it didn’t hurt, but Nubbins remembered it like it did. “I’m Paul,” he decided. He had been called that a lot as a kid, and the very few times Drayton introduced him to someone outside the family he called him that. That was his name on a lot of papers Drayton filled out too. So, since Nubbins was his real name, he figured that was some kind of alias Drayton had made up for him. Drayton did a lot of things like that. To take care of him. Which made it harder to accept that Drayton hated him. Nubbins didn’t want to accept that Drayton hated him. He got really mad at Drayton sometimes- hated him a little sometimes when he beat Bubba or Chop- but that was different. 

Drayton had used his dying breath to tell Nubbins he hated him. 

Nubbins couldn’t express why, but that was wrong. They were family, and even when they hated each other they loved each other and if Nubbins’ own family didn’t want him, who ever would? Nubbins curled in on himself, and started to fidget, bouncing around nervously and fiddling with his hands, flapping them occasionally, trying to get the sad off him. 

“You alright?” Franklin asked. Like he wasn’t the cause of it all. Nubbins would try and explain the chances to him- but it was all so much, and if he couldn’t even explain it to Bubba and Drayton, he’d never explain it to outsiders. 

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Why not?” Franklin asked. 

“Well m-maybe you would- you got a sister… But… The rest of you- I- I dunno where you come from or if-”

“I got a little brother,” said Kirk. 

“I’m the middle of three girls,” Pam said. 

“Only child,” Jerry said. “But uh- I think I could still understand it.” Nubbins paused. If he said the wrong thing the cops might show up. And if that happened, he knew something awful would happen to his family. But, every time that had happened so far, he got another chance. Nubbins needed to change something to break this loop- he could feel it. So, he tried something new. 

“I uh… I had a r-real bad fight with my brother… And uh… I.. I don’t think he wants me around no more. Maybe he never did,” Nubbins admitted. 

“The brother you’re goin’ to see at the gas station?” Pam asked. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell him you’re with us. Don’t want him chargin’ us more,” Kirk said like he thought he was funny. Nubbins didn’t like this Kirk guy, he decided then. 

“Y-yeah, that brother. He’s… He’s my older brother, b-by a lot. And he had to take care of me, and- and our littler brother and… I think… I think maybe he don’t like me because of that. We had a real bad fight and…” 

“I mean, me and Franklin fight all the time,” Sally said. “And I still like him.”

“He’ll be mad, sure, but he’ll get over it. He has to. He’s your brother.” Nubbins almost smiled. His real situation wasn’t nearly as simple as what he had told them, but maybe it would be alright. Maybe Drayton wouldn’t be mad at him. 

Drayton was mad at him. That kind of made sense. He was supposed to be home watching Bubba. Nubbins and the van crew drove up to the gas station, and Nubbins waved at Drayton from the back seat and Drayton glared daggers into him. As soon as the van was all the way stopped, he yanked open the door. 

“Boy- what are you doing-” Nubbins scampered out, hoping that because they were in front of others Drayton wouldn’t hit him. 

“I- I wanted to t-talk to you.” 

“You’re supposed to be home watchin’ Bubba-”

“I needed t-to talk to you now-” Nubbins said. 

“Boy- I-” Drayton looked at the people in the van, all of whom were staring back at him. Drayton turned to his employee. “You help these folks, we’ll be back,” Drayton said, pulling Nubbins by the arm into the store. He closed the door behind him, then turned to Nubbins sharply, temperamental. “What the fuck is it, boy?” 

“Do you… Do you hate me?” Nubbins asked. 

“Wh- what?” Suddenly Drayton didn’t look so mad anymore. 

“Do you hate me?” Nubbins repeated. 

“What… Why..? You left your brother and came all this way to ask-” 

“W-would your life be b-better without me? Do you… Do you want me around?” 

“Nubbins, what has gotten into you? Who said-”

“Nobody! I-I just-”

“Why would you think that I hate you, then?”

“Wh- ‘Cause you said so!” Nubbins snapped. Drayton paused, looking away for a second, almost scared.

Almost guilty. 

“When?” 

“When I killed you!” Nubbins said. He was really starting to get worked up- overwhelmed with emotion, remembering all too vividly looking down at Drayton’s broken body and knowing that’s all it was- knowing he wasn’t there anymore.  “When I- I hit you with the sledge- I-I hit you ‘cause we were fightin’ and-”

“You came out here to bother me ‘cause you had a bad dream?” Drayton asked. It was a rare occasion, in which he was more confused than he was frustrated. 

“N-no! It’s not- It wasn’t a bad dream- it- it was real-” Drayton swallowed heavily. 

“Oh… Oh shit.” There was a pause. “Nubbins… I…” 

“I’m not m-makin’ it up! It was real- and it wasn’t no dream either-”

“I know. You’re not… You’re not the first one in our family to have a problem like this.” For once Nubbins couldn’t think of anything to say. He was excited, and relieved, and for once actually glad he came to his older brother with a problem. Drayton knew what was going on! He could help! “Momma… You never really got to know her, but Momma had… visions too. She would see things or remember things that to her were completely real but to everyone else-” Of course. Of course Drayton didn’t really believe him. 

“This is real! I’m not- you don’t-”

“I- I know it feels like it-”

“You don’t know nothin’!” Nubbins snapped. He shook his whole body, hard. He wanted to scream or smack Drayton on the head or run out into the road and start biting customers. But he couldn’t do any of that- he was stuck, maybe forever. Maybe he really just died the first time and this was- was some kind of punishment. Nubbins didn’t understand purgatory completely, but he had heard about it, and this sort of felt like that. But he didn’t know what to do about purgatory- if this was that- or what this was- or nothing. Nubbins didn’t know, and no one could help him, and no one would believe him. He felt a prickle in the end of his nose, and then his eyes started to well up with tears, and he got even madder- embarrassed to cry, and embarrassed even more to cry in front of Drayton, who immediately sort of cringed. 

“Oh- oh- uh-” Drayton began. “N-now, don’t you cry, none-” he said, holding up his hands like he was approaching a wild animal. “Nubbins, oh… Nubbins… I…” Nubbins was really crying, and flapping and trying to not feel so fucking awful. Drayton wrapped his arms around him, in an awkward, stilted way. “I… I forgive you.”

“W-what?” Nubbins asked, snapped back into the moment. 

“I forgive you for killin’ me,” Drayton said. “It’s okay. Just uh- don’t do it again.” Nubbins nestled tighter against his brother, holding onto him like he was going somewhere, burying his face in his chest, despite having to curl up to do it. Drayton chuckled kind of nervously and wiggled a bit, but didn’t make Nubbins let go just yet. “And uh… I-I don’t hate you. I shouldn’t have said that.You… You know how people get when they’re dyin’. I mean- heh- re-remember that fella with the face scar who converted to what- five different religions all during one dinner with us?” Drayton asked. Nubbins laughed a little- he remembered that guy well.  He was scared to death of little ol’ Bubba, completely convinced he was in some kind of hell. 

“Y-yeah.” There was a mostly comfortable pause. “Why… Why do people say things like that?” Nubbins asked. Then- “Why do you say things like that?” Drayton cleared his throat, and opened his mouth like he was going to talk, then closed it, then opened it again. 

“I… I just..” Nubbins was emboldened by the chances- emboldened by the knowledge that there was a safety net, and by the fear that this wouldn’t be the last chance he endured. That maybe Drayton would forget all this come next time. 

“You’re… you get real mean when I mess up. More than with Bubba sometimes, and more and more now that Bobby’s gone. W-why? Do you like me less than them?” 

“No- I- Nubbins… I just… I get..” Drayton paused, and looked down at Nubbins as he burrowed into his shirt. “I get scared.” 

“Scared?”

“I get scared that somethin’ bad is gonna happen to you… When you’re with Bobby, I know you two can take care of each other… and Bubba’s always in the house. But you go out wanderin’ around, jumpin’ in strange folks’ cars. I get… It’s fuckin’ stupid, pansy shit, but I get scared for you. Scared somethin’s gonna happen to you and I won’t be able to do nothin’ about it.” Nubbins asked one more thing, one more thing he felt he couldn’t. 

“Do you… Do I make your life worse?” Nubbins asked. “Do you wish I was gone?” “Nubbins… You’re a pain in my ass more often than you’re not but… I mean, you’re my little brother, that’s kind of your job, ain’t it?” Drayton said, pulling back, getting back out of the hug a bit more, and patting Nubbins on the shoulders. Nubbins smiled a little and nodded. “So… Don’t you worry about me not wantin’ you around. You ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy. You’re… You’re a weird boy, but you’re my boy. And I… I… I care about you,” Drayton settled on.  Nubbins balled his fists in Drayton’s shirt and pulled him back to him, bumping his head to Drayton’s chest.

When he was little and he had nightmares he went to Drayton. Even though his big brother was so often the cause of them. He would make his way silently, on unsteady little feet to his brother’s room, and clamber into his bed as best he could, and when Drayton woke up to ask him what was wrong- usually not kindly- he would writhe his way into Drayton’s shirt and lay against his chest. Maybe it was odd, but right there it was dark and warm and no one could see him, and no one could hurt him. He liked that feeling, though he didn’t get it a lot. He liked feeling safe. Drayton stopped letting him do that when he was about six or so, because Nubbins kept biting him when he got anxious. He wished in that moment that he was small again so he could go back there. So he could feel safe, for just a little while. Drayton started fidgeting, and Nubbins had half a mind to hold on tighter, maybe even to bite or cut him. 

“Alright, boy, that’s enough- got work to do-” Drayton said firmly, grasping Nubbins by his shoulders and pulling him away. 

“B-but-”

“No! None of that. Besides- you need to go and watch after Bubba.” 

Oh. Right. 

Nubbins rushed home. He didn’t really give that much of a shit about his responsibility to watch Bubba- Bubba was grown and he could watch himself pretty much fine. He set the house on fire trying to cook Grandpa a birthday cake one time and Drayton just never let him live it down. Nubbins didn’t hold it against him. Everybody set the house on fire a little sometimes. But this time, Nubbins absolutely needed to be there. Because this was a good one, and he needed to make sure it went right. Nubbins went over the other chances again. 

First chance: Franklin died, Sally escaped, and Nubbins died. 

Second chance: Sally died, Franklin died, Grandpa died. 

Third chance: Sally died, Franklin escaped, Drayton died. 

So Franklin couldn’t die. But he also couldn’t escape. 

Nubbins devised another plan. Hopefully a good one. Franklin and Sally would come looking for Jerry, who came looking for Pam and Kirk. But if Nubbins and Bubba could chase Pam and Kirk off the property without killing them, then Jerry would never come so Sally and Franklin would never come either. If they didn’t hurt Pam and Kirk, they wouldn’t have anything to tell the cops, so nobody would come, and the Sawyer family’s lives would all go on unaffected. Franklin wouldn’t be dead, but he wouldn’t escape either. It was fool proof. Or at least Nubbins thought so until he tried to explain it to Bubba. 

Bubba did not like Nubbins’ idea. In part, because it would mean Bubba would have to deal with the wanna-be home invaders on his own. They knew what Nubbins looked like, and while they only knew him as Paul, the less risks he took the better. This chance had to go absolutely perfect. But Bubba couldn’t understand why they didn’t just kill the strangers- they needed more meat anyways. 

“Look- Bubba- You just- you-” Nubbins paused. He had half a mind to hit Bubba on the head and make him do what he said. Nubbins was his older brother, after all, and he and Bobby could always get Bubba to do things. Not as easily as Drayton could, sure, but he could still usually bend Bubba’s will to get his way- especially if he threatened him with a smack. But Nubbins still felt imprints of welts that weren’t there, and the thought of making Bubba hurt  or feel as lousy and dirty he felt then made bile rise up Nubbins’ throat, which burned and melted the threats he considered making right off his tongue. “Bubba, p-please? I- I really need you to d-do this for me. It-it won’t be so hard! And- when you do this real well, maybe Cook will realize you can do stuff on your own again! Maybe when he gets back, y-you an’ me an’ Bobby can go into town again!” Bubba seemed to consider that, playing nervously with his bracelet. “Oh! And- I- I can’t be seen by those strangers- but, I could come and watch you- m-make sure nothin’ bad happens.” 

You promise? Bubba asked. Not in those words, exact, but Nubbins understood. 

“O-oh- of course!” Nubbins said. “I won’t let nothin’ bad happen. That’s what older brothers are for.” 

Pam and Kirk arrived right on time. But, this time, the front door was locked, so Kirk couldn’t wander in like an idiot. Nubbins and Bubba hid outside, in wait. For a second it seemed like Pam and Kirk might just leave. Then Kirk started to fuck around with one of Nubbins’ bone chimes, as the pair sat on the porch. Nubbins and Bubba were close, chainsaw with them, and Bubba had one hand on the starter cord handle, ready to yank it to life. But Nubbins paused, holding out a little hope that the two would just leave and give him an easy ending to his good chance. 

“I really woulda thought- with the generator runnin’ like that, that somebody would be home,” Pam said. 

“Yeah… Maybe we could siphon some gas from it. Get the hell out of this shitty little town.” Nubbins wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. 

“Oh, Kirk. The gas station’ll get some in a few hours, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, then we can go talk to that old weirdo again. You know- I don’t even think he’s out of gas. I think he just wants to murder us and wear our skin… Or make us buy a shitty keychain or something.” Pam laughed. Neither of them made any move to get off their damn porch. 

“He’s not that bad. Neither was Paul, really. Just a bit weird.” 

“Paul? Who’s that?”

“You know- the hitchhiker we picked up.”

“Oh, right, Franklin’s new boyfriend.” 

“Oh, stop it,” Pam said, still laughing. They were laughing. Laughing at him, laughing at his family. They had probably been laughing at him in the car too. If he could slaughter them both, he happily would. But he needed to finish this day without incident so he could be free of the chances and move on. 

“C’mon Bubba,” Nubbins said. “Let’s scare the sh-shit out of ‘em.” The two brothers snuck ever so slightly closer, till they were only a few feet away, hidden by only tree cover. Then Bubba cranked the chainsaw. He ran out at the two. Pam ran like a reasonable person, towards the sunflowers- away from the house. But Kirk just jolted back, breaking Nubbins’ bone chime entirely, and grasping a piece of it. He ran to the door of their house, trying again to break in, and Bubba charged at him, chainsaw over his head, shaking it at Kirk, but certainly not about to kill him with it. Which was why Nubbins didn’t see it coming. Bubba was trying to get Kirk to go past him, but Kirk just wouldn’t. He was yelling something, clutching the broken rib bone he’d stolen tight, but Nubbins couldn’t hear what he was saying. Kirk moved suddenly, and erratically, darting under Bubba’s chainsaw right as he swung it for show, and Bubba slashed him with it accidentally. Kirk screamed, of course, and it made a mess, but Nubbins was sure that Kirk would be fine. 

Kirk didn’t seem to know that. 

He turned, boneshard tight in hand. Nubbins ran out then, knowing something bad was about to happen. But he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Kirk lashed out, hitting Bubba in the neck. Bubba wailed, and dropped the saw, and Kirk sprinted away. Nubbins thought about snagging and killing him before he could escape, but he had to take care of Bubba first. It was his job to take care of Bubba. 

“Y-you’re okay-” he began, sitting down with his brother. And Bubba looked okay. The saw had missed him entirely, he was just hunched over, and clutching where he had been hit in the neck. A good hit to the neck could really hurt- Nubbins and Bobby had learned that the hard way while wrestling with each other. It could bruise real bad too. But it wasn’t too bad of an injury. Nubbins was sure Bubba would be fine. 

Until he looked up. 

Nubbins had never felt sick at the sight of blood before, but then he thought he was gonna spew his lunch. Kirk had stabbed the bone shard in Bubba’s neck. Blood was running down, freely, between his fingers. Bubba was panicking, squeaking and near sobbing and holding his injury as tight as he could. This didn’t have to be it. Nubbins could do something- this was bad, but it wasn’t that bad. They could stitch it up. They could save this. Nubbins could save this. 

He dragged Bubba inside, telling him to keep his hands on it. He cleared off the table in the kitchen, and had Bubba lay down on it. 

“I-it’s gonna b-be okay, B-bubba,” Nubbins promised. “This is- it- it’s just gonna be a scar and a funny st-story one day, okay?” Bubba nodded. Nubbins ran around the house, getting together what he needed. They had fishing line, a needle, and super glue that Drayton usually used to patch the boys up in an emergency. Nubbins just had to find it. He raided every cabinet in the kitchen first, going through every drawer while Bubba whimpered and squeaked. Nubbins found the super glue. But that wasn’t enough. They would need to stitch the wound first, at least Nubbins was pretty sure they would. “I- I’m gonna be right back-” Bubba squealed- “I’m goin’ to C-cook’s room- I’m gonna get the th-thr-thr-th-” He couldn’t get out the word thread- “ the stuff! The stuff to take care of you!” Nubbins ran upstairs, and into Drayton’s room. Drayton would be mad about this, sure, but Nubbins was confident he would understand. There wasn’t much in Drayton’s room. It was one of the cleanest rooms in the house. 

He had his bed, which was made, though his pillow was on the floor, and a little nightstand with a lamp on it that Nubbins had decorated with bone pieces for him. Nubbins started there, opening the drawer of the nightstand. The drawer wasn’t so clean- Drayton must have just chucked everything in there. There were keys to some of the victim’s cars that Drayton had been working on, and  a whole mess of bills, and some of Bubba’s old drawings, and the old bone bracelet Nubbins made for him that he said he had thrown out, and a box of shotgun shells, and Bobby’s draft letter, and a bunch of bottle caps and teeth for some reason. 

Nubbins turned to the only other furniture in the room- his dresser. There were three drawers.What if I can’t find it in time? Nubbins had to shove that thought down. He could do this- Bubba was tough- they were going to be alright.  Nubbins started with the bottom one and found mostly Drayton’s clothes.He heard Bubba cry out downstairs- a sudden, sharp noise. 

“I- I’m comin’, Bubba!” he yelled.  In a panicked hurry, he stopped caring if Drayton knew he went through his stuff. He could cover that up later, or Drayton could find out- none of that mattered as much as helping Bubba. He chucked Drayton’s clothes onto the floor, finding in the drawer one spool of thread, which while not as good as fishing line, Nubbins shoved it into his pocket anyways, just in case. He kept digging through the drawer, up turning the whole thing, and finding not much more of note other than a weird magazine called Blueboy with a shirtless man on it. 

Nubbins leapt up, yanking on the second drawer, but it just wouldn’t open. He pulled again, nearly toppling the whole thing, and snapping off one of the nobs. He chucked the nob across the room and flailed for a second, before continuing, yanking the top drawer open. It was messy too- but Nubbins eyes landed immediately on the old, metal, white lunchbox Drayton stored their medical supplies in. Nubbins yanked it and ran downstairs, quite possibly knocking over the whole dresser in the process. 

“Bubba! It’s- it’s gonna be okay-” Nubbins rounded the corner to the kitchen, holding the medical supplies tight. 

Bubba was sitting up. He had something in his hand. Something bloody, and pale. The bone shard. He took out the fucking bone shard! Bubba’s hands were soaked in blood, his clothes were soaked in blood- everything. He was bleeding out ten times as fast with the shard out. 

“Wh-what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Nubbins snapped. Bubba started babbling- trying to explain. “You leave it in! You’re supposed to leave it in you- you idiot!”Bubba started apologizing and  Nubbins stopped listening. He yanked open the lunchbox, finding the fishing line and needle, and threaded it as quickly as his shaky, panicked hands allowed him to, trying to focus, prinking his fingertips a few times. Then, once it was threaded, he turned to Bubba. Bubba was two shades too pale and rushing for a third. Nubbins moved to his side. “O-okay- you’re gonna take your hand off and-” Bubba did what he said right then and put his hand down, and with no pressure on the wound there was a waterfall of blood. Bubba fell back and Nubbins caught his head, stopping it from hitting the table. Bubba laid on his back, and Nubbins loomed over him, trying to move his shirt and mask and hair out of the way, so he could get a look at the wound. It was so wet it was hard to tell where the slash actually was, and everytime Nubbins cleared off enough blood to see, more poured out. He eventually just had to make an uncertain stab, maybe starting further back than he should have, but definitely closing the wound. Bubba didn’t even make a noise when Nubbins started working, and Nubbins felt sick. His hands shook more and it didn’t help. Nubbins could have cried when Bubba started trying to speak. 

“N-Nuh-Nuhbuhn-” Nubbins. He was trying to say his name. 

“It-it’s okay Bubba. It’s gonna be okay- I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t let nothin’ happen to you- I-I promise-” 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Then he lost his shit. He threw the picture and then his camera, and then started to flail around in the van and yell. 

“It-s it’s uh- I’m sorry- I’m sorry- it’s not that bad-” Franklin began. 

“I’m sick! I’m sick! I’m sick of this! I’m done! N-no more- no more- no more!” Nubbins yelled. 

“What the hell is going on back there?” Jerry asked. 

“Are you okay? What’s- what are you sick of?” Kirk asked. 

“Don’t talk to me! You- You murderer! I- I try to be nice to you- and you make fun of me and Cook and you kill my little brother-”

“Hey, man, settle down-” Jerry tried. 

“I- I think you got the wrong guy,” Pam began. 

“I don’t! Y-you haven’t done it yet this time, but you did it in my last chance! I- I shoulda killed you!” 

“Woah! Relax!” Kirk said. 

“Do I need to pull over?”

“What do you mean, ‘chances’?” Sally asked. 

“The chances! I’ve- I’ve been having today for- for five days now! Maybe more. And every time it’s the same- you idiots die and then get somebody in my family killed with you!” There was a pause. 

“Is there a psych ward near here?” Kirk asked, trying to be quiet. 

“Could you- could you explain your chances from the top?” Pam asked. Nubbins paused. He didn’t have much to lose, and if he did fuck this up, he could kill all of them and go at it again. 

“I…. I… I keep getting second chances. The first time, I was goin’ through life as usual, and then I got hit on the road and killed. Then I got another ch-chance, startin’ today, here, in the van. It all starts when I say ‘it’s a nice picture’. Each go around starts there. Then I can change stuff throughout the day, but not how it ends up.”

“How does it end up?”

“Somethin’ terrible happens to my family,” Nubbins said. 

“So what’s the part about us all ending up dead too?” Kirk asked. Nubbins paused. If they knew his family was going to murder them all, they probably wouldn’t help. He didn’t have much reason to suspect they could help him, but he was running low on options. So Nubbins decided to stretch the truth a little. 

“You all die. Or most of you do. There’s… there’s a serial killer out here.  Who kills you all, one by one, and then at the end, kills someone in my family. Except last time- wh-when you got my little brother killed!” Nubbins hissed at Kirk. 

“That’s… that sure is somethin’,” Sally said, like Nubbins was stupid. He was getting real sick of these people. 

“Could you… Could you tell us something you couldn’t know?” Pam asked. 

“What?”

“I wanna believe you, but it’s all.. A lot. You could tell us something you know from your chances that you couldn’t know now?”

“Oh… Uh… Your names is Jerry, Pam, Kirk, Sally, and Franklin. Sally and Franklin are brother and sister… Your van is almost out of gas, and you were gonna go visit the ol’ Franklin house that’s ‘round here…. I… I don’t know what else to say, to convince you-” Nubbins looked up at them. All of them except Jerry were staring at each other, looking back and forth. It was Pam who spoke up first. 

“Jerry, how’s the gas?” Pam asked.

“We uh… We are runnin’ low. 

“I think that’ll do it,” Pam said. “So… You’re stuck in a time loop.” 

“A… Time loop?” 

“I think there’s a gas leak in this van,” Kirk said. 

“Kirk- just listen to me on this-”

“Astrology is one thing-”

“How else would this random hitchhiker know so much about us?”

“He knows our names, knows you two are siblings, and he guessed we’re almost out of gas.” 

“And he knows where we’re going,” Sally said. 

“Okay- fine, but maybe you said your last name and he figured that was your grandpa and-”

“I don’t think any of us even told him our first names,” Franklin said. “And our last name is Hardesty. But this Grandpa was on our Momma’s side. His last name was Enright.” There was a pause. 

“This is a lot-”

“I-I mean, you could tell me somethin’ I really couldn’t know, and I could kill us all, and we could try again next time-” 

“Or we could just go with the time loop,” Jerry said. “Save everybody the trouble.” Kirk backed down then. 

“Alright, so, I’ve heard of time loops before, but never really dealt with one. In a lot of stories, time loops are either evil, or kind of benevolent- to punish someone forever or to give you enough chances for you to get it right.” 

“So is my loop evil or- or not evil?” 

“Well that’s the thing. Real time loops aren’t good or evil. They’re personal. Much more likely to occur with malefic planets in retrograde- like Saturn right now- but they’re not necessarily malevolent just because of that connection.”

“Uh… Okay?” That meant approximately nothing to Nubbins, who barely knew Saturn existed at all, much less that it could retrograde or malefic. 

“What have you figured out about your loop? Anything?” 

“Well uhm… I… I think… I’ve noticed that uh… Well, if something bad happens to Franklin, or if he isn’t involved at all- then someone in my family dies real sudden and usually real bad, and the loop starts over.”

“Wh- me?” Franklin asked. “Y-You think I���m tied to all this mumbo jumbo-”

“W- well yeah. It all goes okay until he dies. Or if I try to keep him out of it. If either of those things happens, then someone in my family dies. The- the moment someone in my family dies, it all starts again.” There was a pause. 

“What’s your star sign?” Pam asked. 

“I- I uh… I don’t think I got one.”

“Everybody’s got one,” Franklin argued. 

“I uh- I wasn’t born in a hospital- so maybe- uh-” 

“What day were you born?” Pam asked. Nubbins paused for a second. 

“Wednesday?”

“What day and month?” 

“Wednesday March.” 

“March what?” 

“March the… The 2nd? Or 3rd maybe.” The van group seemed to contemplate that information. 

“You are not a Pisces! There’s no way-” Pam began. 

“Well uh, he is an artist,” Franklin said. 

“And kinda moody,” Jerry added. 

“Emotional,” Sally tacked on. 

“What’s a Pisces?” Nubbins asked. 

“That’s your star sign,” Franklin said. “I’m a Taurus, and Sally’s a Capricorn, Jerry’s a Virgo, Pam’s a Sagittarius, and Kirk is a Leo.” 

“Oh.. W-woah!” Nubbins was going to have to look into this planet stuff after the time loop was over. “C-could you do my twin brother Bobby? I- I know his birthday.” 

“He’s… He’s also a Pisces. You have the same birthday,” Sally said slowly. 

“Oh. Wow!” 

“So… If our hitchhiker is a Pisces and Franklin is a Taurus…” Pam began. 

“Then they’re romantically compatible, great,” Kirk said with a sign. 

“Kirk! Just listen for one second!” Pam said. “This is important.” 

“Okay- okay-” 

“Saturn is in retrograde. Neither of your signs are ruled by Saturn, but your signs make you very compatible… In your first ‘chance’, did you and Franklin make any kind of.. Pact? Like- you promising to come back for him, or promising to see each other again in another life or something? I mean- this one would be kinda weird- but you could have had a blood pact, maybe.” 

“How is that weirder than promising a guy you just met that you’ll ‘meet in another life’?” Kirk asked. 

“Well uh- with blood pacts, you would both have to, well, drink each other's blood, in some way. Or at least get some of it in your mouths.” Nubbins grinned at that, uncontrollably. He and Franklin had swapped blood- for sure. Nubbins left his blood on Franklin’s knife, and Franklin left his on Nubbins’. And Nubbins had licked Franklin’s blood off his knife, when their van had disappeared on the horizon after they kicked him out. Just to try him. To taste him. But Nubbins never would have guessed Franklin had done the same. It made Nubbins feel a lot of things- excited and jittery and most of all special. He knew he and Franklin would have got along good if they could have- he liked Franklin when he first met him, before all the chances. And now that he knew for sure Franklin hadn’t done all this on purpose, he felt okay liking him again. 

“What’s funny?” Kirk asked. 

“N-nothin’. And uh- I think- I think we had a blood pact.”

“From… From when you cut yourself with my knife?” Franklin asked. 

“Y-yeah! And uh- from- from later too.” 

“Hm… Alright…” Pam started looking through her book. 

“There’s no damn way you’ve got information about time loops in that little book,” Jerry said, looking back, trying to get a peek. 

“Pam, what does this all mean?” Franklin asked. “What do we do? Are we stuck like this forever?” Pam closed her little book. 

“Alright. So. Franklin, you and uh-” Pam looked at him. 

“Uh- Nubbins.” 

“Nubbins?” Sally asked. “What kind of name is that?” 

“Wh- M-my name!” Nubbins snapped. 

“Alright, alright!” Pam snapped. “Look- Franklin, you and Nubbins are, well, star-crossed. Bound together by fate, but in a really bad way. As far as I can tell, in order for you to break this loop, you two need to make it to the end of today alive, but also together. Whenever it becomes impossible for that to happen, the time loop is reset through the death of someone you care about. I think… I think if we stick together, we can avoid the serial killer and all stay alive,” Pam said. Nubbins looked at the kids in the van, and thought real hard about it for a minute. The only one he really liked any was Franklin. Pam wasn’t so bad, but he wanted Kirk dead, and his family could really use some meat, so Sally and Jerry would have to go too. Maybe Pam too. He didn’t mind losing Pam. He knew if they stuck all together, the four he wanted to die would find some way to stay alive. And that just wouldn’t do. Nubbins was doing this his way. 

“Franklin,” Nubbins began. The other man turned towards him, smiling. He was real cute. Nubbins was glad he got to keep him. “Sorry about this. I-I promise I’ll be real good to you next time!” Nubbins yanked his knife free from his boot and lunged at the other man, cutting his throat three or four times before Kirk could get him off of him. Everyone in the van was screaming. Nubbins wondered which of his family members would die this round. And got his answer quick when Jerry leaned over trying to see what was going on and swerved the van in front of an oncoming semi. 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. “But uh- You- you a real nice guy, so you can have it for free.” Franklin’s eyes lit up just a little as Nubbins handed him the photo. 

“Oh uh- thank you!” 

Nubbins had a plan. 

This time he was getting it right. It would be easier to control what was going on with Franklin if he stayed with him. So he would find a way to stay in the van. Say or do literally whatever he had to in order to stay with them. Then, he would make sure the others died off as planned, but keep Franklin away from the house until he was confident it was safe enough. Then he would go home, convince Drayton to let him keep Franklin, and escape the time loop forever! 

Simple enough. 

The first step was being charming enough to get the people in the van to let him come with them. Which he was entirely confident he could do. He already knew nobody but Franklin would like the meat talk. But they all seemed to like art. 

“So uh- Y-you like art?” Nubbins asked. 

“Uh.. yeah?” Kirk said. 

“Oh! Pam’s an artist,” Sally added. 

“M-me too!” Nubbins said. “I- I used to be the killer- at the slaughterhouse- but uh- after the layoffs- I- I started doing art.” 

“Oh- that’s cool,” Pam said. “Are you a painter or…?” They might not like what I actually do. 

“I do sculptures,” Nubbins said. “Oh- And I take pictures!” 

“Oh yeah, what of?” Jerry asked. 

“Jus’ uh- stuff around here. Like the slaughterhouse, and old cars, and my family. Oh- and uh- roadkill.”

“Roadkill?” Pam asked, crinkling her nose. 

“Y-yeah- I tried to get pictures of livin’ animals, but they run away too fast. Don’t have that problem with roadkill.” Jerry laughed first, again, and then the others. It was nice to be able to be funny on purpose this time. 

“So uh- where were you goin’, man?” Jerry asked. 

“Well uh… I was just kind of goin’ back and forth around here. Uh- gettin’ pictures. Say- uh- where are you goin’?” 

“Well, we were gonna go check out our Grandpa’s old house. It’s around here somewhere,” Sally said. 

“Oh! C-can I go with you?” 

“Well -” Franklin started with a smile, and that glint in his eyes. He was gonna say yes. Nubbins could feel it. But as he turned and looked at the others, who were uncertain, he hesitated. “Uhm..” 

“I mean-”

“We’ll be in a hurry to get out of here after that-” Nubbins tried really, really hard to look harmless, but whatever face he was making did not help at all in gaining the trust of the van-goers, who started all trying to make excuses more rapidly. Drayton was always good at getting people’s trust, and getting them to come home with him. Nubbins didn’t know how he was so good at it. Nubbins tried to think of what Drayton might do. 

The first thing that came to mind was fake a heart attack, but that wouldn’t really help in his current situation. Plus that usually worked on men more than women. And the people who wanted him out of the van were a mix of both. Franklin liked him. Jerry and Sally seemed the least determined either way. He didn’t think he could get Kirk to like him, or want him there. But he did think Pam could make him be nice. So Nubbins thought about what Drayton did to lure women. Which was either finding lonely, recently divorced or widowed women his age and inviting them to dinner, or acting really really pathetic and sad. 

“I uh… I just don’t wanna be alone t-today. Is all,” Nubbins began. “M-my twin brother got drafted a while ago and… and today is our birthday… And uh,” Nubbins sniffled for dramatic effect. “We- we got the letter today. That.. That Bobby won’t come home- and I- I just don’t want- I- I won’t be in your hair too long- my older brother is at work today and- I- I wanna be there when he gets home- so- so I can tell him but… I don’t.. I don’t wanna be there right now.” 

“Oh my God,” Pam said.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jerry said. 

“Oh- Of course you can stay with us,” Franklin said, before the others could object. Sally looked fit to hit him over the head about it, but she didn’t. Probably because they had company. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. Man,” Kirk said. 

“It’s.. It’s… It ain’t easy. But… I-I’m gonna be okay.” 

“Is… Is that why you did that?” Franklin asked, gesturing towards his hand. 

“Huh?”

“Is that why you cut yourself like that?” Franklin asked. 

“Oh uh- k-kinda. It… it feels good. Wh-when you get hurt real bad sometimes your body gives you a- a little jolt! And it hurts. I-I kinda like the way it hurts too.I- I could do it again and show you, if you’d like!” Everybody said no at once, and then-

“If you’re gonna come with us, you have to stop doing that,” Sally said. 

“Yeah, you’re okay so long as you’re not doing anything crazy,” Kirk added. Nubbins narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t say anything. 

“Oh- uh- okay.” 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Pam said. 

“Well, uh- Wh-What’s your star sign?” Nubbins asked. Pam’s eyes lit up and something in Kirk died. 

“Hey uh- pal, we’re runnin’ low on gas, do you know if there’s any gas stations around here?” Jerry interrupted. 

“Oh! Y-yeah, there’s- there’s one up this way a little ways.” They went to the gas station, and Nubbins laid flat in the back, against the door, while the girls got out to get barbeque and cokes. Jerry and Kirk talked a little to Drayton, and Franklin just looked down at Nubbins, smirking a little, but not saying anything. Nubbins broke into a grin too. Hiding from his big brother, trying not to snicker too much, it felt like a game. Nubbins wondered what it would be like to keep Franklin. If they would keep playing games like this together.They would have to keep him for that day, of course, but after all that was about to happen, they couldn’t just let him go. They should, logically, just slaughter him after the time loop was over. But Nubbins was lonely. He had been since Bobby got drafted. And even though Bobby would be back one day, probably soon, Nubbins still sort of wanted someone around. Someone new. And Franklin was new, and nice, and if he tried to get away they could take his wheels off so he’d have to stay with them. He was perfect. Their stars were aligned, like Pam said. 

Nubbins just had to convince Drayton of it. 

They went to the ol’ Franklin house with no more gas. Drayton told them they didn’t have any, which meant he wanted something with the van group. Usually it was his way of stranding folks nearby, so the Sawyers could ambush them and pick them off. But Nubbins knew these idiots were going to come right to them. He had to keep his excitement inside. Everything was going perfect. 

Nubbins stayed in the van, curled in a ball near Franklin’s feet, until Jerry opened the sliding door, and Nubbins skittered out, quickly. Jerry jumped back a little at that, but Nubbins didn’t pay his concern any mind. Jerry would only be alive a few more hours anyways. Nubbins looked around the old house. It was weird. He had been there before, of course, putting up some of his not-as-good art, worried that if Drayton saw it he might take it down. But it was different being invited, and different to see the people who lived there actually there. 

Nubbins had heard vaguely of the Hardesty-Enrights before. Grandpa didn’t like them much, but Grandpa didn’t like anyone to be close enough to see through binoculars. That was why he moved out to Newt- to get away from people. And it had just about worked before ol’ Franklin Enright decided to settle in. Grandpa complained about him a lot, and Drayton complained about his son Lefty a lot, so Nubbins had never really tried to make friends with the kids across the field. They were weird anyways- the whole family just up and left their Grandpa in the old house, coming by sometimes, but leaving him alone most of the time. Nubbins just couldn’t understand why anybody would do that. He would never leave Grandpa alone like that. That was probably why their Grandpa was dead and his wasn’t. 

That, and his general learned distrust of outsiders, had put Nubbins off the Hardestys before he even knew any of them. He wondered, maybe, if he hadn’t listened so well, if he and Franklin could have been buddies. He bet Franklin and Bobby would have been good buddies too. Nubbins turned, and went back to Franklin. The others had set some planks out so he could wheel out of the van, and then run off somewhere. 

“Oh hey. I thought you ran off with everybody else,” Franklin said. 

“Me? Nah. Wh-where did everybody go?” 

“Inside I think,” Franklin said. He was munching on a sausage Drayton had sold them, and he started to wheel towards the house. Nubbins followed close, looking down at him. 

“Y-you like that meat?” Nubbins asked. It was a good sign that Franklin already liked their food, since Nubbins had already decided in his head he was keeping him. 

“Oh, yeah- you uh- you want some?” Franklin asked, offering the sausage to him.

“Oh- uh- no, we got more at home.” 

“Huh?”

“That guy at the station, the old man, he’s my brother- he- he cooks that meat himself. We got more at home.”

“Oh… That’s why you were avoidin’ him.” 

“Yeah. Cook’s no fun, doesn’t let me do nothin’.”

“Cook?”

“Oh uh-that’s- that ain’t his name, that’s just what we call him. Like my little brother is Bubba, and uh- sometimes they call me Paul.” 

“Paul? What’s Paul short for?” Franklin asked. “Or is it your middle name or..?”

“My name’s Nubbins. D-don’t tell the others.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“I don’t like them as much as you.” Franklin laughed at that. “You’re weird, Nubbins.” 

“Oh uh… Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I like it. I never met somebody like you.” Franklin rolled to the door, but hit some kind of beam in the floor, and had to rock his chair back and forth a few times to get over it. He met the same struggle getting into the living room, and Nubbins waited, fidgeting, not sure what he should do. The only person Nubbins had known to stay in a chair like that was Grandpa. He and Bubba just picked Grandpa up and moved him wherever he needed to go. But Franklin rolled himself around. So that seemed strange. Nubbins would probably roll Franklin when he kidnapped him later, but at the moment it didn’t feel right. Nubbins could hear laughter, echoing from upstairs. He ran up the first few steps, then looked back down at Franklin. 

“Uh… How do you get upstairs?” Nubbins asked. 

“I don’t,” Franklin said flatly. 

“Wh- but… They’re upstairs.” 

“Yeah. They… They pro’lly either forgot or…” 

“Oh well uh- I- I’ll be right back,” Nubbins said. He ran up the stairs, quickly pinpointing the laughter. He burst in the room and most of them jumped. 

“Oh, hey,” Pam said. “What’s uh- what’re you doin’?” 

“You uh- you forgot Franklin.”

“Huh?” Sally asked. 

“He’s downstairs. And- and he’s got that chair- so he can’t get up.” 

“Well,” Jerry said. “Yeah.”

“So uh… Let’s go downstairs.”

“We were just lookin’ around up here,” Kirk began.

“Yeah, I wanted to show everybody my old room,” Sally said. 

“I’m sure Franklin will be fine ten minutes alone,” Kirk finished. 

“Oh… Did.. Did Franklin have a room?” 

“Well, yeah, Grandpa always let him stay down the hall-”

“How’d he get up then?” 

“Well- when he was little Grandpa would carry him up. It was a lot easier when one of our uncles-”

“Oh! Uh! Well, me and Bubba carry our Grandpa up the stairs all the time. Franklin’s a bit bigger-”

“You can say that again,” Kirk said. Nubbins didn’t understand his comment, but he didn’t like it either. 

“Well uh- with me, and you, and Jerry, we could probably-”

“Look, man,” Kirk began, putting a hand on Nubbins’ shoulder, not unlike how Drayton did sometimes. “We know Franklin can’t get up here. That’s kind of the whole point.” 

“Huh?”

“He’s fine, right now. Alone. We’ll go and talk with him in a minute. We’d just all like some time away from him for a little while. I mean- if you’d been in the van with him as long as we had, you’d wanna strangle him too.” 

“Nuh-uh!” Nubbins snapped, slapping Kirk’s hand off him like it was a spider web. “I- I like Franklin.” 

“I mean, I’m his sister, I like him too,” Sally began. “He’s just a bit… Much sometimes.”

“Whiny,” Kirk said. “So damn whiny.” 

“He’s… He’s real talkative,” Pam said. “Too much, sometimes.” 

“I mean… I think he’s okay,” Jerry added, awkwardly. Nubbins couldn’t understand this. Why did they even bring Franklin with them if they didn’t like him? Why did Sally just let those outsiders talk bad about her brother like that? Even Drayton wasn’t that mean. Whenever an outsider said something bad about Nubbins, or Bobby, or Bubba, Drayton would stand up for them, and tell the outsider he hoped their baby got cancer, or something normal like that. 

“You… You’re a bad sister.” 

“I- excuse me?” 

“You’re a bad sister! You- you just let them be mean to him! Y-You shouldn’t let nobody else talk bad about your brother. Jus’ family gets to! You’re a bad sister!” None of them could think of a response to all that, and Nubbins was done talking with them, so he blew a raspberry at them and left the room, stomping down stairs. 

“So… I guess they didn’t forget,” Franklin said, kind of softly. 

“Well uh… They.. They said-”

“I heard most of that. You don’t talk quiet.” There was a pause. 

“I- uh- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re… You’re one of the only people who’s stood up for me in a long, long time.” 

“Oh.” Nubbins heard footsteps, slinking down the stairs. He expected it would be Sally- that was kind of how Drayton slunk around after he said something he shouldn’t have. Nubbins expected some kind of apology. But it was his least favorite van goer. Kirk. 

“Hey uh.. Franklin, you know where that old swimmin’ hole is?” 

“Huh?”

“Me an’ Pam were thinking of going down there. Gettin’ out of the house a little.” 

“Oh yeah- uh- it’s just down the hill,” Franklin said. Nubbins considered doing that thing Drayton hates- where he wedges his whole body in the staircase so he can’t get past him, but he had a good feeling about Kirk’s little swimming trip. Nubbins moved aside, and let Kirk and Pam slink past. Nubbins couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped him as they slipped through the door. “What’s so funny man?”

“N-nothin’. I- I just got a good feelin’,” Nubbins said. 

Nubbins’ good feeling lasted all night. The Hardesty siblings didn’t seem to share it as the night went on though. Kirk and Pam didn’t come back. Nubbins knew why, but said nothing. Jerry went looking for them. And he didn’t come back either. Now there was only one more to go. 

“I guess… they’re probably lost,” Franklin said softly. 

“It’s… It’s gettin’ too late. We should go and look for them,” Sally said. 

“What if we get lost too?” 

“We’ve got the flashlight, we’ll be fine,” Sally said. 

“We- we should got to the gas station and get help,” Franklin said. “Your brother works at the gas station, don’t he?” 

“Well uh- y-yeah- but I don’t know how much help he’d be.”

“Well the gas station’s got a telephone, right? We could call somebody-”

“Oh uh, it don’t got a phone.” That was answer enough for Sally. 

“Franklin, let me see the flashlight. I’m gonna go look for them.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sally,” Franklin said, hugging the flashlight to his chest. 

“Franklin, just give me the flashlight-”

“You really ought not to go-”

“Franklin!” 

“Franklin, i-it’ll be alright,” Nubbins said. “I’ll be here with you. A-and Sally can go look for ‘em!” Franklin still didn’t give up the flashlight. 

“Sally, I’ve got a bad feelin’. I-I don’t want anything happening to you either-” 

“Fine- I’ll go without it-”

“Wait- Sally- we could come with you-” 

“Jus’ give her the flashlight,” Nubbins said. “S-so she’s safe!” 

“No! Something terrible is about to happen and I just know it!” Franklin said. “Something terrible already happened- and now- I just-” 

“Franklin, you can’t stop me from going. You can only choose whether I’ve got the flashlight or not.” Franklin looked down at the light in his hands, and for a moment something like grief crossed his face. 

“Oh… Okay,” Franklin said, handing Sally the flashlight. “Be careful.”

“I will.” 

It was quiet. Everything was quiet, for a while. That made Nubbins nervous, and he started to fidget around. 

“Do you think… Do you think she’s okay?” Franklin asked. “I- I just changed the battery in that flashlight- it’s- it’s a good battery. I think it could last like- like thirteen years. I don’t think she ran out of battery.”

“Me neither,” Nubbins said. “It-it’ll be okay. Everything’s gonna be right like it should be.” Then, they heard a scream. The horrified, agonized scream of one Sally Hardesty. And the deep, low purr of the chainsaw. Nubbins couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh my God- Sally! That was- that was Sally!” 

“Yeah it was!” Nubbins said. Then he started pushing Franklin. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“Takin’ you home for dinner!” 

Nubbins set everything up nice. He and Bubba went and got Grandpa, and brought him downstairs. They set Franklin at the dinner table, and put bricks around his wheels so he couldn’t go anywhere. Nubbins even set the table. He made sure everything looked perfect, and nice, and just right like Drayton liked it. Because that night he had a big ask. Nobody had ever gotten to keep an outsider before. The closest Nubbins had ever even heard of that was Momma having her boyfriends, but they ate most of them. Drayton had some kind of something with an outsider when he was a lot younger, but that all fell apart and it just made Drayton meaner. If Nubbins had to guess, Grandpa probably made Drayton eat his Franklin. That would make Nubbins a lot meaner too. Nubbins didn’t want that- couldn’t afford that fate. So he had to make sure every little thing was perfect. And, just as a backup, Nubbins slipped up to Drayton’s room and got that magazine with the shirtless man on it from his dresser. That way, if Drayton refused to let him keep Franklin, Nubbins could threaten to show Grandpa his magazine until Drayton realized Franklin should stay. Nubbins headed out of the kitchen, back into the dining room, where Bubba was trying to introduce himself to Franklin. 

“Oh God- Oh Lord- Please- Please don’t eat me-” Bubba tried to sooth him in his pretty lady voice, but for some reason that didn’t help. 

“It’s okay! We ain’t gonna eat you. You’re stayin’ with us!” Nubbins tried to explain. 

“What? Why- I- I like you, but I don’t wanna stay here- I wanna go home-”

“It’s real nice here. You like meat! And head cheese. We can have meat for dinner every night-”

“My family is gonna come lookin’ for me- m-my uncle’s a cop! He’ll come lookin’ and then-”

“Then we gonna eat him,” Nubbins said, flatly. 

“No! Oh God- Please- I- If you let me go, I won’t tell nobody- I won’t tell nobody nothin’!” Their conversation was interrupted by Drayton’s truck pulling up to the house and then-

“Boys! Come out here and help me with this-” Nubbins ran out to help Drayton first, determined to be in his good graces. Sally was with him, which was a surprise. She was bleeding all over the bag he had her in, and thrashing like she was dying, which helped Nubbins connect the dots. “Did your brother get all those kids?”

“Yeah! We got all of ‘em!” Drayton nodded sternly, then the two brothers worked to drag Sally back in. 

“Oh my God- Sally!? They got you too-” Sally was put at the head of the table and strapped down. 

“Oh wow, a bonus body! And you set the table,” Drayton said, happy for a second before his voice went flat. “What do you want?” 

“What?” 

“I know you want somethin’. You ain’t nice like this if you don’t want somethin’.” 

“Well, uh a little bit.” With Sally tied down, thrashing and screaming, Nubbins and Drayton stood up. Nubbins tried to keep his back straight, to give an air of authority, or at least of confidence. “This one is Franklin,” Nubbins said, pointing to him. “And we’re keepin’ him.” 

Drayton laughed in his face. 

“You’re funny, boy-”

“I mean it.” 

“You… You mean it?” Drayton was getting mad. 

“Yeah. W-we’re keepin’ him.” 

“You think you call the shots around here now- you think you can just bring home a random stranger and expect him to get fed and looked after and-”

“Did I stutter?” 

“I mean, yes-”

“Not that way! Like- like in the tone way not the-”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Drayton said darkly. Then he paused. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want him? We’ve had hundreds through here- slaughtered and killed- and you ain’t given any of ‘em pause. Why him? Why’s he special?” Nubbins was half surprised he even got the chance to explain it. But now, he knew he would get his way. Once Drayton understood what Franklin was like, he wouldn’t just let him stay- he would want him to stay. 

“He-he’s real nice, and he likes my pictures! Of the slaughterhouse- he- he liked hearing about the slaughterhouse, and he likes your cookin’ and he’s funny and he likes the way I am and- and he’s got a good face and a good laugh and I like him!” Nubbins said. “Oh! And our stars line up! They- they line up good. He’s a- a uh… A Taurus! And I’m a Piscese- and that’s- that’s good together-” 

“Oh. So that’s how it is,” Drayton said. His voice was level. But not in a good way. In a way that made Nubbins feel like static was going across his skin. Nubbins, Bubba, Sally, and Franklin were all quiet, fixed on Drayton, waiting for his response. It felt like even Grandpa was holding his breath. “Well… I ain’t havin’ you two fudgepackers in this house!” Drayton snapped. “So if that’s how it is- you can- you can up and leave!” Nubbins knew Drayton didn’t mean that- he had this talk with him before, in another time.

“Well- if that’s how it is, you’re gonna have to leave with us!” Nubbins said, way more confident and mocking than he had any right to be, pulling the magazine out from its hiding place in his pants pocket and slapping it down on the dinner table for everybody to see. “I found this in your dresser!” The magazine, as if on cue, fell open to a picture of an entirely naked man. Drayton was staring down at the table like Nubbins just slapped a bouquet of live rattlesnakes down on it. 

“Boy-” 

“I-I know you worry about me- and- and you worry somethin’ will happen to me- and I guess this doesn’t make that better but- I-if you let him stay I promise I’ll be good and I’ll- I’ll stay by the house more. I- I promise. And- And I can help more with dinner and stuff- and takin’ care of Grandpa- and- and I bet Franklin could be real good at lurin’ people in! He- he already offered to bring his uncle here!” 

“Franklin!” Sally snapped. 

“I did not!” Franklin began. 

“Shut up!” Drayton snapped, “All of you!” Drayton bounced nervously back and forth. He was considering it. Nubbins started to smile. He was really considering it! He looked up at Franklin, who sat there quietly, scared and sweaty, but polite. “Fine,” Drayton said. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Nubbins started to jump around the table in joy. 

“But don’t ever ask me to keep another one! And if this boy brings us any legal trouble- so help me God-” 

“We get to keep Frankie! We get to keep him!” Nubbins said, taking Bubba’s hands, and starting to dance with him. 

“Listen, I’m gonna tell you what I was gonna tell him, and then you tell him all that-” Drayton started telling Franklin. 

“Oh- Okay-” Franklin said, pressed back into his chair as flat as he could. 

“W-Wait-” Sally said. “Wh-what about me?” 

“Oh,” Drayton said. “We’re still eatin’ you.” 

The next part was familiar, but new. Nubbins got a light brooming for going into Drayton’s room, and was told to put that magazine back where he found it. He did, and came back down to a blissful dinner scene. Sally was screaming her lungs out, thrashing at the chair, eyes glazed over in an odd way. Franklin was screaming too, trying to say something to her, trying to calm her down maybe. Drayton was chasing Bubba around, telling him to go get dinner, and threatening him with the broom. All in all, it was perfect. Dinner went the same as it did the first time, except with Franklin there. Nubbins was surprised by how upset he was about his sister dying, considering what a bad sister she was, but Franklin had genuinely screamed and sobbed until his voice was raw and he couldn’t physically cry anymore. Nubbins looked at his family, at Bubba, and Grandpa, and then over to Drayton. Drayton bounced and clapped and cheered as Grandpa hit her, again and again. Nubbins thought about holding him. About his limp, lifeless body. And Nubbins understood. He gently, quietly put his hands over Franklin’s eyes, so he wouldn’t have to watch, or think about it. Then, suddenly, quickly, Grandpa dropped the hammer, and Sally wriggled up and out- running for the door. 

“Holy shit- get her boys!” Drayton yelled. Bubba raced for the door, chainsaw quickly in hand, and Nubbins followed. Drayton was slow, and no good at killing anyways, so he hung back. 

Nubbins remembered this morning. 

His blood was pumping, as he ran after her. 

He knew he was alive. 

Nubbins chased her. Played his part. She was slower this time, Bubba had slashed her good once with the chainsaw- and while it hadn’t killed her, hitting her shoulder, it had bled her enough that she couldn’t outrun Nubbins for even a second. He could probably kill her in the driveway. But he had a plan- a feeling, really. He knew what to do. She screamed and he laughed, chasing, slicing, all again. It was still fun, sure, though it was different the second go round. She once again deftly dodged the cattle guard. Just barely. Then stumbled out into the road. Nubbins followed, careful, counting the seconds, trying to remember exactly how many cuts he got in. 

One. Two. Three-four. Five- And then he jumped back. Lept away from her like she’d burned him. Sally looked up, agony and confusion on her face. For just a second before the truck hit her. It was a pretty gruesome death, Nubbins had to admit. A lot worse on the outside than in it. But, regardless, as he watched it, he started to laugh. Nubbins corralled Bubba, back, into the bushes, out of the line of sight of the driver, who was wailing and crying and doing his best to resuscitate her. Nubbins knew from experience she was already gone. The two brothers headed back towards the house. 

Drayton stood outside, not exactly content. Nubbins walked up with a grin, whipping the blood from his knife onto his pants. 

“Did you get the bitch?” Drayton asked. 

“She g-got hit by a truck!” Nubbins said. “The d-driver thinks he killed her. No cops comin’ our way this time.” Drayton nodded. “W-wait!” 

“What now?” 

“Could you… Would you help me lie to Franklin about her?” 

“What?”

“Jus’- I’m gonna tell him she run off. Left him behind.” Drayton chuckled and shook his head. 

“You really care about this whole thing with him, huh?” Drayton asked. Nubbins nodded. “Well… I won’t fuck it up for you. Just… Be prepared if this whole thing don’t work out.” 

A day went by. Then two. Then three. Then a week. Nubbins had dreams, more often than not. Echoes of the loops- of what happened to his family in each one, or of being stuck in the loop again. The first few days had been nerve wracking- Nubbins still felt every minute like he would end up back in the loop, trapped again. But as time went on, he started to accept that he wasn’t. He had expected something big to happen- some kind of message from the stars. But life just carried on. Like it had before the whole thing had happened. 

Franklin was distraught. Scared that Sally would leave him, insistent that his sister was going to get help- that someone would come- that Sally still cared, that his parents still cared, that his cop uncle would turn up eventually. But they didn’t. And Franklin sort of seemed to lose hope. That made Nubbins worried too. Franklin was so sad all the time, and not eating much, and not doing much either. He was still like Grandpa, still like he wasn’t alive no more, even though he was. Nubbins took another picture of him, and he stuck it to the wall, with the pictures of the rest of his family, hoping that Franklin would get the hint- that he was with them- that he was one of them. But Nubbins wasn’t sure it was helping. 

Till one day, at the end of the week, he heard a familiar mechanical snap. He had been trying to help Bubba scoop up the chicken feathers- one of the many stupid little chores Drayton made him do so he could keep Franklin. Drayton kept giving him chores like that, and Nubbins kept doing them, even though he was confident there was no bite behind Drayton’s bark. Drayton said he was gonna cook up Franklin if Nubbins was bad, but Nubbins wouldn’t kill Franklin, and Bubba wouldn’t, and Drayton was never any good at killing- so there would be no one to do it. It was a hollow threat. But Nubbins wanted his brother to be happy, so he was doing that one anyways. Until he heard that noise and then looked up. Franklin was in his chair, holding Nubbins’ camera. Nubbins looked up at him with naked surprise. 

“You… You took my picture,” Nubbins said. Franklin examined the picture as it came out, an unreadable but near pleasant expression on his face. 

“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Nubbins swallowed heavily. “Or at least I think it is. I’m- I’m not a photographer like you-” Nubbins went over to him, cautiously. “I just- uh- there’s- there’s photos of everybody but you- so I thought-” Nubbins grabbed the picture from Franklin’s hands, not noticing entirely when he flinched a little. There were a lot of ways the picture could probably technically be better. But it was real and honest. 

“It’s a real nice picture,” Nubbins agreed. He laughed as he started hanging it on the wall, and for the first time, Franklin laughed with him.

[ebbpettier]

i think part of my reasoning is that "does simon snow get his magic back" doesn't immediately register in my brain as "simon snow's power is restored to him and he can cast spells again like any other magician" in my brain, he still has magic. magic is everywhere. he just can't use magic on a personal level. and as a guy surrounded by videos without closed captions at work i jus

[r4spb3rr13s]

pro heroes meeting their feisty, mcbling gf

♱ bakugou, kirishima, midoriya, dabi

♱ pt.2 here pt.3 here

note: it’s me, i’m the feisty mcbling gf 😞

Katsuki has been on shift for what feels like hours. In reality… well it has been hours. He’s been patrolling a smaller, more mundane part of Tokyo, where all he’s done is help little old ladies with their groceries and scold kids for trying to steal candy.

He was dying to get home.

So, when he heard a scream five minutes from patrol ending, the groan he let out was loud, unprofessional and frankly, really douche-y of him. But still, he flew towards the alley it echoed from.

He turned the corner, expecting a damsel in distress…

Only to see you.

Beating a man with a Juicy Couture suede bag, wobbling on platform sandals.

While this man lets out the girliest, highest-pitched screams Katsuki has ever heard in his life.

“That’s.” Hit. “What.” Hit. “You.” Hit. “Get!” Big hit!

Katsuki blinks out of his trance and takes a booming step toward you. “What the fuck’s goin on?”

You gasp and look up, and Katsuki swears his heart is echoing out of his chest.

Your s/c skin is everywhere, from your jean shorts to the cleavage practically spilling out your leopard print zip-up, and as you straighten up, he catches a glimpse of a belly ring that makes him gulp.

Your hair frames your face with a pair of sunglasses at the top of your head, showing off a fantastic scowl. Glittery eyes are met with furrowed brows, decorated with piercings-galore on your face, and two big hoops either side of your head.

“This prick!” You punctuate it with a nudge of your painted-pink toe, “Tried to rob me! I kneed him in his tiny balls.”

Katsuki raises a brow. You take a minute to glare at the guy, still whimpering, before you strut towards him with narrowed eyes.

You hate to admit it, but Dynamight was hotter in real life. Soot is smeared on his cheek and the scowl on his face sends his ruby-red lasers shooting through you.

“What? You have a staring problem?” You ask with a hand on your hip. Every ounce of confidence you’re letting off is soooo clearly fake right now, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He shakes his head and looks around you to the poor guy on the floor. He’s not going anywhere, still curled up in a feral position and cradling his nads.

Katsuki sweats.

“Alright, sweetheart-”

You try to pretend it doesn’t make your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart?” He freezes and looks down at your cocked brow. “At least take me out for a drink first, Mr. Dynamight, c’mon.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, “Shit- sorry, I didn’t- look, you’re okay, right? No injuries?”

You’re inspecting your nails at this point, trying to avoid looking at the muscles in his hero costume. “Huh? Nah, but he should probably get checked out. Am I good to go?”

You sound eager to leave, but you make no move to when he nods.

Instead, you stand, scrutinising him with crossed arms. Katsuki hates to admit it, but even standing a whole foot taller than you, you’re making the blond blush.

“Okay, what? You need somethin’?” He gruffly says.

You glance back at the idiot still on the floor, and he flinches at your gaze.

“You don’t need my number for a report or somethin’?”

The words leave your mouth sooner than you can stop them, but you keep your face cool as your turn around. God, you need a smoke after this.

Katsuki’s hearts skips a beat, but his lip quirks up and he huffs out a chuckle. He reaches into one his pockets, and passes you his phone.

He’s still blushing, but God that man is grinning as well.

:::

Eijiro is mid-lat pulldown when he hears you through the full blast of his headphones. Being the manly pro he is, he takes an earbud out to hear the commotion.

“When I say fuck off, I mean fuck off! What part of that isn’t get through your thick skull?”

Eijiro watched as you scream in a steroid-fueled gym-bro’s face. You’re jabbing a pink nail in his chest, neon pink shorts matching to a sports bra and a small hoodie on your top half.

He gets off the machine, and a loud clang echoes through the gym - you don’t even notice.

“What, too much muscle blocking your brain from working?”

The guy is getting ready to respond, an ugly, violent grimace on his face. As Eijiro steps behind you and crosses his arms, the guy thinks twice.

He nods at you, and turns away, practically running.

You huff and tuck a loose piece of hair behind your hair.

“What was that?”

You jump at the voice and spin around with a shout. A chest- Jesus Christ, he’s tall. You’re face-to-chest with a man covered in muscle, a sharp-toothed smile and spiky, red hair to match it.

“Oh!”

…

…

He raises a brow and smiles at you.

A blush is fighting it’s way onto your face, but you’re too cool for that. Way too cool. So you clear your throat and stop staring at his adorable face for a minute.

“He wasn’t taking no for an answer,” You huff and cross your arms.

Eijiro frowns, “Shit, that sucks. Do you come here often?”

…

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

His face turns as red as his hair when he realises how stupid that sounded. It’s weirdly endearing watching such a large man blush and panic in front of you.

“N-no, like, I can get him banned if you’re a regular. I know the owners, so-”

“Where do I know you from?” You cut him off, doing mental gymnastics.

Eijiro freezes as he watches you. Your thick lashes touch your brows as you go wide-eyed, staring at him intently. So intently, he’s terrified to move a muscle.

You click your fingers and point a sparkly nail at his chest, “Red Riot! I knew I recognised you from somewhere.”

He grins and shrugs. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I mean,” You trail off for a minute, using all your self-restraint to not blush or stutter in front of this fine-ass man, “if you ever wanted to come to rescue again, I could just give you my number?”

Eijiro has never grabbed his phone faster in his life.

:::

Izuku has been caught in the midst of little fans. Children are detaching themselves from parents, flying away from friend groups to crowd around for his autograph. He’s reminded again why he always wears a cap and glasses when he goes to the mall.

He just needed to pick up a pair of boxers, for Gods sake.

A little boy comes hurtling at him, but such is the norm. What he doesn’t see is the girl sprinting after him- sprinting in platform heels that is.

Jeans cling to you tighter than your zebra print top, and the tiny handbag on your shoulder keeps slipping down. Every step you take is a loud jingle with the massive array of jewellery you have on, and star-shaped clips in your hair keep slipping out.

“Deku! You’re the coole-”

“Isamu! Get back here!” You screech. Your sister was going to kill you if she knew the one time you took your nephew out for a little trip to the mall, you lost him.

Watching him talk to a stranger was almost the cherry on top.

You come to a skidding stop, somehow not hurtling over on your open-toed death machines, and grab the 5 year old by the armpits. Isamu let’s out an excited shriek and smiles at you.

Then he points to the guy.

That guy being the number one hero in Japan.

You nearly drop your nephew.

“Oh my God-”

“I’m so sorry-”

You both speak at the same time, then shut up, and just stare at each other like two idiots. He’s not in his costume - duh, idiot, he’s at the mall?- but he looks just as good as he does with his face plastered all over Tokyo.

Strong arms are straining the seams of his black shirt, and his dark hair is brushing the nape of his neck- it looks so soft-

“I’m really sorry, I should have come out with my hat on, sunglasses-”

“Please do not apologise for looking that good,” You mutter and roll your eyes. Then you freeze. Then you both look at each other, while you nibble your lip and smear your lipgloss everywhere.

“Deku! Can I have your auto map!” Isamu screeches from your arms, wiggling like a worm. It’s getting hard to hold him, so you plop him down and hold his hand instead.

“Autograph, buddy, not auto map,” You whisper in his ear.

Izuku’s heart skips a beat. You are gorgeous, silly and amazing with kids- I mean, what else could he really ask for?

He nods and crouched to Isamu’s height.

“Who am I making it out to, then?”

Isamu screams his government name so loud you want to cover your ears, but you just smile awkwardly at Izuku crouching under you.

He looks at you with his big, doe eyes and a soft smile. “What about you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want an autograph-”

“Your name?”

Oh shit. You mutter it and watch with a smile as the pro scrawls on a notebook he miraculously pulled out from his arse. His round, perky-

“There you go, Isamu. It was great meeting you,” He pats your nephew’s head, who is practically beaming. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/n,” he adds, and turns away with a wave.

As you walk away, Isamu thrusts the paper in your hand.

“LOOK AT IT AUNTIE Y/N!!”

‘if it’s not too forward, id like you text me sometime y/n :)’ and next to the note is his number.

Cheeky bitch.

:::

Dabi has no fucking idea how he ended up in a bar blasting Kesha from the speakers with millennial women screaming ‘this was my party song!’ but he hates it.

Until he sees you.

You’re in the tiniest jean skirt he’s ever seen, and your ass cheeks are so close to popping out. If you’d just stopped swaying your hips and bend over, he’d get a glimpse-

But you turn around, and he watches you twist and turn in a matching halter top, jewellery adding rhythms to the music.

Dabi swears he has never seen anything as captivating as your baby pink lips mouth along to Die Young. God, was he really thinking that? In relation to Kesha? You must be special, he thinks to himself.

He makes no move, though. He sits at the bar, watching you tip back fruity cocktails and teeter on your fur-covered boots.

He looks away for a second, he swears, and suddenly you’re on the bar stool next to him. Not just sat, but staring. Like, blatantly staring right at him.

He mirrors you, leaning on his palm and watching you.

You’d be lying if you tried to say his cerulean eyes weren’t doing something to you, but there were more pressing issues at hand.

“You’ve been staring at me all night.”

It’s a fact, he has been.

A smile curls onto his lips, and he shifts so he’s closer to you. “Have I? Didn’t notice…”

You’re drunk. Like, much too drunk, because his face is a blur- a handsome blur though. You are aware enough to tell he’s staring at your tits, though.

You click your fingers in his face and he looks back up at you. There’s a moment on his face where he looks shocked, but a bigger smirk replaces it.

“Sorry, hun-”

“Hun? What am I, 5?”

He leans forward, and the overwhelming stench of a beach fire is fighting with your Britney Spears perfume. The air starts to smell like burnt sugar around you, and it’s weirdly compelling.

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“Well, you’ll need my number to call me.”

It takes you a minute to realise how dumb that was- you’re drunk and that is not what he meant, but it made him drop the cool boy act. He stared at you for a second with wide eyes before chuckling under his breath.

“You are somethin’, princess…”

“Princess?”

“Yeah, the skirt and all the pink- very princessy,” He gestured to your outfit before pulling out… a burner phone.

You really should not have drank that much, because you don’t even care to question it as you’re typing you digits in.

note: ffs i didn’t make izuku’s gf feisty enough 😞

[w2soneshots]

Back off mate -W2S

words: 0.6k+

warnings: angst, jealousy, possessive Harry, argument, alcohol consumption.

summary: while playing pub golf with the boys someone tries to flirt with you, that leads Harry to become quite jealous.

notes: hello my babies! Here’s the request🫶🏼. I know that Harry isn’t great with confrontation so there isn’t much of that in this. I hope you enjoy!!🤗💗

Liked by chrismd, faithloisak and 432,908 others

y/username: so much beer

Tagged: @wroetoshaw @chrismd

-comments-

wroetoshaw: rethinking my life decisions in that second pic

georgeclarkey: I so drunkk rn🍻

-> chrismd: we can tell mate

y/nfanpage21: uhm that outfit❤️‍🔥

user96813305: I love this post sm😭🫶🏼

Tonight me, Harry, Chris and George are playing pub golf. Some others were going to join us but they cancelled lat minute so it's just us four. I got ready and we left our apartment at seven o'clock. George and Chris were already in the taxi when we got in and it took us to the first pub.

After quite a few drinks and travelling to three different pubs we were all on pretty much the same points. I was quite drunk but Harry seemed to remain just slightly tipsy. As we entered our fourth bar I spotted a pool table. "Oh my god! We should play, yeah let's play. Come on!" I dragged Harry over to the table by his wrist and the other boys followed close behind.

Just as we began playing a group of a few guys walked up to us and watched as I completely missed the white ball. Harry chuckled. "Do you need help darlin'?" One of the men asked, coming towards me. Since I was so drunk I didn't even think about the fact he was most likely flirting so I agreed.

Harry quickly glanced at the boys and then back to the man who now stood beside me, his hands on mine, helping me to push the ball into the net. A large smile spread across my face as I cheered in excitement.

I glanced over to Harry and immediately my smile fell from my face. He looked at me with clenched teeth as his jaw ticked, eyes boring into mine.

The entire vibe changed. Harry didn't move. Chris and George walked up to the guy and told him firmly to "back off mate." I stepped towards Harry, my arm reaching out for him but he stepped back and made a b-line for the pub door. Suddenly I felt very sober as I looked back to the boys, they just sighed.

I followed after Harry and found him leaning against the brick wall. He didn't look at me. "I'm sorry." I told him quietly. He didn't move. It was painfully quiet, the only sounds being drunk people walking around and the odd car driving by. "I would never- you know I-" "I think we should talk tomorrow. I need sleep." He interrupted me, pushing himself off the wall.

We left in a taxi not long after and I text the boys informing them that we were going home. We didn't say a word to each other until we got inside our apartment. Harry took his shirt off then lay on the couch, grabbing the blanket that rested on the back of the sofa and placing it over himself.

"You're not coming to bed?" I asked. "No." He said plainly. I slowly took in a shaky breath then went to bed myself, deciding not to push him any further.

The next morning I woke with a banging headache. I shuffled into the kitchen but stopped in my tracks when I saw Harry sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. Suddenly last night's events flooded my mind.

I walked over to the couch and sat down. He glanced at me. "You know I'd never cheat on you. I love you more than anything. I was really drunk last night and wasn't thinking about the fact that guy was flirting. I'm sorry Harry." I sincerely apologised. He put his phone down and moved all of his attention to me.

"I know. It just really pissed me off. The way that- dick looked at you I-" his eyes flashed with anger then closed as he calmed himself down. I nodded. "I can't lose you." He whispered. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. I pulled him into a tight hug and he held onto me as if I was going to disappear "You won't. I promise."

[thewritingrowlet]

The Anniversary, ft. tripleS Kim Yooyeon

tags: fuck it, no tags this time

length: 14k+

author's note: I've lost count of how many times I've been asked to write a Yooyeon smut, so for those who yearn for it, this one's for you.

-

Yooyeon stirs awake in the middle of the night, feeling uneasy about not having you, her husband, in bed with her like she usually does. She rolls onto your side of the bed and reaches for the framed picture sitting on the bedside table. It’s a picture of you and her, taken on the first night of the vacation trip to Europe to celebrate your first anniversary. “It’s been over 5 years, hasn’t it, love?” Her finger runs up and down on the side of the frame, recalling the memory from what feels like a lifetime ago.

A few days before the trip, Yooyeon and you had a disagreement over some things—things that mattered little but were handled poorly enough that they created a fissure in the new and fragile marriage, even though they shouldn’t have been to begin with.

“I don’t want to talk to you ever again! Leave me alone!” She yelled out, letting her frustration and anger be known to you.

Yooyeon remembers the way you slammed the bedroom door on your way out after the final argument of that Sunday evening. Yooyeon also remembers the way you skipped kissing her before leaving for work the following morning. Finally, Yooyeon remembers how her cheeks were drenched in tears because she thought you weren’t coming home on Monday.

At that point, she thought she had lost everything—over nothing but some de minimis matters. She vividly remembers the way she was leaning against the front door, praying to whatever higher being could hear her for you to come back home—for you to say that you love her and that everything wasn’t so doomed; for you to take her hands in yours and recite the vow: “together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.”

Yooyeon recalls how surprised she was when the front door she had been leaning against suddenly swung open, making her tumble backwards. “My love, it’s you! Oh my God, it’s you!” She exclaimed when she saw you at the front door, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You took me in your arms and carried me to bed, love,” Yooyeon recalls, “y-you told me that you were sorry, and-and you promised that you’d work on becoming a better man for me.”

All this recollecting has her shedding tears subconsciously, but her mind doesn’t want to stop here just yet. It reminds her of that moment after the super late dinner on Monday where she bent over your lap, hiked up her negligee, and offered you her round butt to be spanked. “Punish me, my love; I’ve been a very bad wife,” she said. She shut her eyes to brace for the impact when she saw you lifting your hand. “I was so scared, my love; I thought you were going to really hit me,” she wipes the tear on her left cheek, “you have no idea how relieved I was when I felt you caressing my butt instead of hitting it.” “I would never hurt you like that, my love,” she impersonates you, getting your deep voice as close to the original as she can.

Yooyeon rolls around in bed as she contemplates calling you. She knows that you wouldn’t get angry about it, but at the same time, she wonders if maybe you were asleep—she hates disturbing your sleep. “Ah, I can’t take this anymore.” She grabs her phone and finds your contact easily. “Please pick up, my love.”

-

You just got off the airplane that took you from Florence back to Seoul. You’re very tired but at the same time, you’re very excited to get home. You’ve spent the last few days going through an absurd amount of work; you’ve met with foreign partners, signed countless documents, and the most painful of them all: eaten at good restaurants without your beloved wife.

Right after you get in your car, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. You read the name of the caller and see that it’s your wife.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello, love.”

“Are you okay, honey? Why aren’t you sleeping? Isn’t this super late in Seoul?”

“I-I was asleep but not having you in bed with me is awful”

“Really?” You tease her, smirking as you do.

“What—of course! You know this better than anyone, love!”

You try your best to stay in character and not burst out laughing—you even cover your mouth with your palm so that your phone doesn’t pick up any sound.

“Love? Why are you quiet?”

“Oh, sorry,” you clear your throat, “I was looking at the flight schedule.”

“Flight sche—are you coming home!?”

“I’m about to, honey—I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’m waiting for you! I love you!”

“I love you more, honey. See you soon, alright?”

As soon as you end the call, you start laughing; you just told your wife a harmless lie and now you’re about to appear at the front door of your house and surprise her. Before you start driving away, you grab a velvet box from your suitcase that’s sitting on the passenger seat. You open it and inspect its content, “I hope you like jewelry, love.”

-

One last turn to make before you reach your house, and you start feeling nervous and excited at the same time. This electric car doesn’t make any noise, so that’s a plus and minus at the same time: you can approach the house without making any noise but at the same time, you need to come up with something to get her open the front door, since Yooyeon must be in the bedroom on the second floor, which has windows you can see from the driveway.

You think about whether you can pull off the surprise. “Oh, man, how can I get her to come to the front door at this hour?” Your eyes wander around the front side of the house as you look for ideas. They finally land on the CCTV that’s pointed at the front door. “Should be able to use that.” You pull out your phone and call her, and she picks up immediately thanks to her sleeplessness.

“Honey, I’ll be quick so listen to me,” you say in a serious tone, “I see someone at our front door.”

“F-front door? W-who?” She’s starting to fall for the prank. “Wha-what do I do, love? Do I call the police?”

“Just—oh, fuck,” you dramatize, “just bring a gun or a taser and check—be careful, honey!”

Your wife hangs up the call, presumably to get one of the self-defense weapons you’ve provided for her. You get out of the car and stand at the front door, and while you wait, you pray that she won’t pull the trigger against you, its master.

You didn’t have to wait long, because after a few seconds, the left half of the butterfly door swings open, revealing your wife, who is wearing a pink nightgown—she’s also aiming her gun at you. “Hi, baby,” you greet her with a smile, “missed me?” Yooyeon can’t believe her eyes; her husband, who she thought was still in Florence, is standing in front of her. “H-honey? I-is that really you?” You approach her and lower her gun so that it’s not aimed at your face. “Yes, love, it's me.”

Yooyeon lets the gun fall onto the floor as she falls limp into your arms. “Hi, love,” you greet the baffled woman one more time, “I’m home, love—I’m here for you.” She pulls away from the hug and takes a good look at your face. “Oh my God, it really is you, love,” she rubs your cheeks gently, “b-but how? I thought you were still abroad?” You reveal to her that you were actually in the airport’s parking lot when she called: “I literally just got in the car when your call came in.” Your wife lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you fooled me like that, love.”

You ask her to let go of you for a second so that you can close and lock the door. You then pick up the gun from the floor, lock the safety switch, and hide it among the books on the nearby bookshelf. Once you’re done, Yooyeon wraps her arms around your body and leans against your chest. “I love you, hubby,” she says softly, almost too quiet to reach your ears, “I love you so much.”

Without saying it back, you lift your wife and carry her to the sofa. You carefully lower her and have her sit on it while you take a knee in front of her. “Are you proposing again, love? I’ll say yes again, don’t worry.” You chuckle, “no, but I do have something for you.” You fish the velvet box from your back pocket and open it for her. “Happy anniversary, baby.” The actual anniversary is later this week but whatever—there’s nothing stopping you from giving your wife a gift.

Yooyeon looks at the necklace you’ve bought for her in awe, seemingly very fond of it. “This looks expensive, love,” she takes the box from your hands and takes a closer look, “is this for me?” You chuckle again. “Well, yeah—who else deserves such a gift aside from my beautiful wife?” She hands the box back to you and lifts her hair off her neck. “Please, honey,” she says. You move behind her and connect the chain right on her nape. She then turns towards you and shows the centerpiece—it looks majestic hanging on the center of her chest, right underneath her neck. “Absolutely beautiful, honey,” you let out a praise, causing her to blush. “Me or the necklace, love?” You smile at her lovingly. “You are beautiful, and that necklace wouldn’t look as good on anyone else, honey.”

You take a glance at the square clock sitting under the TV: it’s now a little past 2 a.m. “Love, you said you couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t with you,” you run a thumb across her soft cheek while looking deep into her eyes, “do you think you can sleep now that I’m home?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath and smiles after. “When you’re with me, I can conquer the world, love.” You put on a sad face. “If you’re busy conquering the world, then who would I be cuddling every night?” She playfully slaps you in the chest. “Oh my God, stoooop,” she fans her red face with both hands, “anyway, yes, I can sleep now that you’re here.”

She opens her arms wide open while her beautiful eye smile is forming on her face. You lift her up with little trouble and walk towards the bedroom with her. “My God, you’re so beautiful, honey,” you let one more praise fly out of your lips. She accepts the praise with a giggle and returns it in the form of a peck on your cheek.

You let her down from your arms and move towards the wardrobe to find something to wear to sleep. You know that your wife likes seeing you undress, so to accommodate that, you take off your clothes in front of her. “You age so well, love,” she bites her lip sexily. You ask if she’s in the mood for sex: “sorry, love, not today.” “It’s fine; it’s not like we’re running out of time” you grab a pair of shorts from the wardrobe and put them on, “let’s just cuddle and go to sleep, okay?”

Yooyeon moves to the center of the bed and taps the empty spot next to her with a grin on her face, “over here, my love—right next to me, your lovely wife.” Your wife is indeed lovely; this is a verifiable fact. You join her in bed and without any word said, she moves to rest her head on the side your chest and place a hand nearby. You hear her yawning, a sign that she’s now ready to sleep—properly this time, with her husband’s arms around her. “I love you,” she suddenly says, “I hope you know that.” You roll over and get on top of her—yes, you know that she’s not in the mood for sex and that this is a very typical sex position, but this is necessary. “I haven’t the slightest doubt in my mind that you love me and I love you back,” you say to her, your tone serious but sincere, “I love you so, so, soooo much, Kim Yooyeon.” You haven’t addressed her by name like that in a while, so she is visibly surprised.

“Please lie down again, honey,” she says, “you’re going to make me horny if you stay like this.” “I don’t see the problem,” you shrug, “just say the word and I’m yours.” Yooyeon taps your cheek gently a few times, and that’s your sign that she’s really not in the mood for it at the moment. “Maybe later, honey, but not now—you need some rest first.” You lie down in bed and pull her into your arms again. “By the way, I’m skipping work today and tomorrow, love,” you say to her, “do you want to do anything?” She yawns audibly one more time. “I don’t know yet—I’ll tell you if I have ideas.”

-

Yooyeon is a morning riser; she’d rather wake up early and immediately start doing whatever she needs to than sleep in and not have enough time to do things. You, on the other hand, used to have the same habit as her, but after becoming a director, you often find yourself working past your bedtime, so you compensate for the lack of sleep by sleeping in. Thankfully, your wife never makes a big deal about the difference—she has used it to her advantage on a handful of occasions, actually. Last year, she woke up before 5 a.m. to make cookies for your birthday and finished just in time before you woke up.

Today, however, after not having seen her husband in almost a week, she’s opting to stay in bed, savoring the moment of having your scent in her nose and your warmth on her skin. You slowly wake up and see that your wife is still in the same position as when you closed your eyes a few hours ago: her face is on your chest and her legs are entwined with yours. “I love you,” you whisper to her, not expecting an answer. “I love you more,” she replies, surprising you.

“Honey,” she softly calls to you, “I’m tired.” You start massaging her arm even if you’re only partially awake. “You are, love? Can I help?” Yooyeon gathers her strength and moves to lie square on your body. “Just stay like this, please.” You put a hand on her back and move it up and down, just the way she likes it.

“Honey,” she calls to you, “can I ask what we’re doing for our anniversary?” You want to open your mouth, but the urge to yawn gets to you first. “What do you think about dinner at The Sapphire, love?” Yooyeon lifts her face off your chest and looks at you with a smile. “Yes, please,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to go there.” You apologize to her for not coming up with something grand for the 6th anniversary, but she rejects it. “As long as I’m with you, I’m down for anything. Without you, all I want to do is stay in bed all day,” she says.

-

“Wakey, wakey, my love,” she says, poking your cheek repeatedly to get you to wake up. You slowly open your eyes and look at her in the eyes. “Am I in heaven? Are you an angel?” Your wife slaps you lightly on the chest and covers her sheepish grin with a hand. “Y-yes, I-I’m your angel,” she looks away to hide her blush, “c-can you wake up, please? It’s almost 10, love.” With a grunt, you move to a sitting position with your legs hanging off the bed. Yooyeon takes the space in your lap, straddling you and placing her palms on your nape. “Love, can—erm—can we have some fun, please? I-I’ve missed you,” she requests shyly. “Sure, honey—one second, please.”

You inhale and exhale a few times to get yourself together and ready to please your wife. “C’mon, honey,” she urges you, getting impatient, “you haven’t touched me in 10 days.” You burst out laughing. “10 days? Really?” Your wife puts on a pout. “Look at that calendar, honey,” she points at a calendar hanging next to the mirror, “I bought a new calendar to keep track of our sex life.” You look at it and see that there are indeed 10 X marks on it, from the 1st to the 10th; three of them are in black and the rest are in red. “What’s with the red and black marker?” She explains that she’ll use a red marker for when you’re not at home and a black one for when you’re at home but have no sex. “That’s interesting,” you peck her once on the lips, “are we ready, then?” “That’s my—ah!”

Yooyeon didn’t expect you to move that fast, and now she finds herself lying in bed with you hovering closely over her. Your deep gaze overwhelms her, forcing her to look to the side. “Are you okay, love?” You peck her exposed cheek gently. “Do you want to change your mind? It’s okay if you do.” She shakes her head rapidly. “Sorry, love, I just got reminded of our first time.” What a great and special time it was; the both of you had saved yourselves for marriage and was each other’s first time almost 6 years ago. “I remember how nervous you were, love,” you show her a gentle smile, “we hugged for almost an hour because you weren’t ready for it, remember?” “I’m so sorry for that, love,” she finally makes eye contact with you, “I don’t know why I was so hesitant—hell, you’re my husband, not my boyfriend.” You tell her that she has nothing to be sorry for: “even if we hadn’t had our first time right there, it would’ve been completely fine.”

“I am glad that you’re of that opinion,” she grabs your hand and places it on her thigh, “now please, let’s start, love.” You run your hand up and down her thigh for a moment, enjoying how soft it is. “I love you, Yooyeon-ah,” you refer to her the way you used to, surprising her again. “I love you too, Harvey-oppa,” she replicates the gesture, referring you to by your other name—the name your dad gave you.

You and Yooyeon always start sex by kissing (sometimes going as far as tongue-wrestling when you’re extra thirsty), and today is no different. You come in for a kiss, and your wife welcomes you warmly. She likes placing her hands on your cheeks when kissing, and you like the way her soft hands feel. “Love,” you break the kiss momentarily, “you’re so damn hot.” Yooyeon knows that she’s very attractive (there were plenty of reasons why people called her the goddess when she was in university) but sometimes, she’s too shy to admit it, and that’s where you come in: you’re the husband who will never get tired of praising her beauty—let it be known, however, that beauty isn’t all she’s about.

Your wife responds by lowering the thin shoulder straps of her nightgown, partially revealing her breasts. “Oh, I know, honey,” she winks, “you’ve told me that so many times in the past few years.” You chuckle slightly in amusement. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to be with you, love.” She gives you a fleeting kiss and tells you that the feeling is mutual, which is amazing to hear.

Yooyeon continues lowering her nightgown until her breasts are fully out in the open. You latch your mouth onto one of them and place your hand on the other, earning a mix of gasps and moans from her. “I-I wish they were bigger for you, hon,” she utters. The shock puts you to a halt. “That’s very uncalled for,” you say, your tone firm, “I didn’t marry you for your bodily assets, my dear wife.” She shuts her eyes when she feels your hand squeezing her breast. “B-but still, I—” You cut her off with a quick kiss, and while you’re there, you snake your tongue into the space in her mouth and fight her tongue.

You pull away from the embrace and pull your wife into a sitting position. You then move to sit behind her and wrap your arms around her body. “Look in the mirror, dear,” you point at the mirror that’s hanging right in front of you, “tell me what you see.” Yooyeon scans her reflection, her gaze going up and down from her head down to her toes. “I-I’m pretty,” she utters softly, “I-I look sexy right now.” You sneakily put your hand on her crotch and start rubbing her over her panties. “There you go,” you praise her, your voice gentle, “now, let’s never say such thing again, okay?” “Ah, ah—o-or what?” She dares challenge you. “Wha-what would you do if I said such thing again?” You bite the side of her neck lightly, earning a surprised yelp from her. “I will tie you to each corner of the bed and not touch you until you say sorry.”

You increase the intensity of your fingers’ movement on her crotch, and you notice that she’s starting to wet her panties. “H-honey,” she calls to you, “c-can I take off my panties, please?” You don’t answer her, and instead, you start rubbing more aggressively. “Oh, oh, oh,” she’s letting out moans freely, “y-you’ll make me cum, honey.” You started doing this to warm her up, but if she wants to cum, then she’s free to do so—in fact, you’ll gladly make her cum.

She uses one hand to hold your hand that’s busy stimulating her and while the other reaches for your nape. She then leans back against your chest and hands over the control of her pleasure to you—submissive as always. “Honey, please—oh, God, please, that’s so good, honey.” You can tell that she’s enjoying this; not only is she moaning freely, but she’s also rolling her hips around. “P-please, take off my panties—I’m begging you.” She sounds desperate enough for it, so you grab the waistband and pull down her panties recklessly, not worried about whether it’s properly off or not.

Yooyeon screams from the top of her lungs when your fingers are directly on her nub, finally getting what she’s been begging for. “Yes, yes, like that, hon,” she eggs you on, “please, please!” You put your mouth close to her ear and lick it, adding a dose of tease to the stimulation. “Cum for me, baby,” you whisper in a low voice, “cum for your husband like the good wife that you are.” To increase your chance of making her cum, you place your other hand on her left breast, alternating between massaging and tugging it.

Your wife lets out a very loud scream and lifts her butt of the bed as juice gushes out of her core—that’s her first orgasm in 10 days (because she doesn’t touch herself, ever), all thanks to you. You remove your hand from her crotch and place it on her stomach, gently rubbing it as she rides the high of orgasm, moaning oh-so-sensually as she does. “Good, baby, good,” you praise her, “such a good wife, aren’t you?” You notice that your wife is getting limp, so you lean backwards against the headrest so that she can lean against your body more comfortably.

“Oppa,” she calls to you, still weak, “thank you so much—I love you.” You peck her cheek from the side and tell her that you love her more. “How are you feeling, love?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath to compose herself. “I feel great,” she sighs, “you don’t know how desperate I’ve been, hon.” She takes off her nightgown and tosses it onto the floor, she then does the same with her panties. “That’s much better,” she says.

You spend a few more minutes just chilling; your wife’s heartbeat has returned to its normal pace, and she is now calm and collected, just like she usually is. That is, until she’s reminded of something: “honey, what about you?” You didn’t know that you were drifting to sleep again. “Huh? What about me?” Yooyeon slaps your thigh lightly, mildly annoyed. “Get your head in the game, hubby,” she says, “you haven’t cum yet.” You let out a yawn first before responding. “That’s where you come in, no?” Yooyeon turns her head to peck you quickly. “Of course, I’m your wife.”

With a small grunt, your wife moves away from your body and gets on her hands and knees in between your legs, your cock pointing right at her face. “May I, honey?” You give her your approval in the form of a nod, and she starts moving her head closer to your tip. Without breaking eye contact, she parts her lips and takes you in her mouth. “That’s good, love,” you put a hand on the back of her head and pet her gently, “you’ve gotten so good at this, haven’t you?”

It's not an empty praise; Yooyeon from 6 years ago wouldn’t even touch your penis, let alone put it in her mouth. It took her almost two years to muster up the courage to give you head—shout out to Kotone, your friend Yunho’s wife, who convinced her to try it. You still remember the first time she took you in her mouth. It happened around a week before your 2nd anniversary. She had her lips as far apart as possible and slowly moved her mouth along your length, gagging multiple times in the process. Fast forward a few years later, and she’s now much better at it. She’ll even give you head when she’s either not in the mood for regular sex, or when she’s having her period. She’s turned out to be crazy like that—she just needs a little push sometimes.

Your wife notices that you’re not paying full attention to her (because you were too busy recollecting the past), so she bites your shaft slightly to retaliate. “Fuck!” You let out a profanity when you feel it. “You didn’t have to do that, love.” Your wife removes you from her mouth and pouts. “If you’re not paying attention then I don’t want to do it.” You take a deep breath and apologize. “But do you know what was in my head?” She tilts her head in confusion, so you explain to her that the memories of your first time getting a blowjob from her were returning to you and that you were deep into reminiscing it. “Really?” “You know I wouldn’t lie about such thing, love,” you defend yourself.

Satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon returns to the task at hand and takes you in her mouth again. This time, to make sure that she knows that you’re paying attention, you maintain eye contact with her, only breaking it when it’s impossible for her to look at you because she’s too far down your shaft. “That’s good, love,” you praise her with pets on the head, “keep going, please.” Your wife winks at you and starts going along your length faster, and there’s no better way to egg her on other than throwing praises at her.

You don’t know how many times praises have escaped your lips, but it matters little; your wife likes hearing praises and doesn’t care if they’re repetitive. “Love, I don’t think I can last long,” you announce, a hint of sadness in your voice because you don’t want this to end so soon. Your wife removes you from her mouth, looks at you straight in the eyes, and whispers, “give me your cum, honey.” You nod, and she returns to her previous position.

You wait until she takes you in her mouth again. Once she does, you palm the back of her head and force her down your shaft. Unready, your wife gags instantly, and you can feel your arousal peaking thanks to the sound. “Be good, love.” You use this final stretch to fuck her mouth—nothing too rough, though; you don’t want to hurt your lovely wife.

“God, fuck,” are all you can come up with right now, as the wetness of her mouth proves to be very pleasurable for you. “Love, I really can’t hold on,” you announce again. Just before you blow, you retreat from her mouth. “Oh, God—fuck.” You close your eyes and ride the high of your orgasm as your cock sprays semen onto your wife’s face. In the meantime, your wife grabs your cock and strokes it, trying to get every last drop of semen out of your system. “Mm, mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “that’s it, honey—give me everything.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of your wife, whose smiling face is covered in cum. “Thank you, dear,” you don’t forget to thank her, “I’ve needed that so bad.” Yooyeon takes a bit of cum in her fingers and licks it. “Should’ve released in my mouth, but it’s fine,” she says. She probably just realizes how naughty she sounds, as she looks away to cope with the heat on her cheeks. You chuckle at her. “I know how naughty you are, honey; we’ve spent enough time together.” You peck her hair, precisely on the spot that’s not covered in cum. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

-

After getting cleaned up with your wife, you take her to sit on the sofa. She turns on the TV and begins scrolling through Netflix to find something to watch, while you sit on the other side of the sofa and pull out your phone to catch up with work. “Ah, what am I doing—my husband is literally next to me.”

She turns off the TV and moves to sit on your lap. You ask if you can help her with anything, your eyes still locked on your phone. Yooyeon reaches for your phone and slowly takes it from your hands. “Love, I’m here,” she says, “can I have your attention, please?” You show her a loving smile and kindly ask her to hand the phone back. “Let me text Jeon Yunho one time, love,” you say, opening your palm to receive your phone, “you’ll have my attention after that, I promise.” She looks particularly sad hearing you say that, but you do need to text Yunho; you need his help to make a reservation at The Sapphire, and for reasons you don’t know, he has exclusive access when it comes to making reservations at these fancy places.

After sending the text, you put your phone on the sofa and turn your attention to your wife. “Sorry, love,” you take her hands in yours, “I need help making a reservation for our anniversary.” Your wife shakes her head and tells you that it’s fine. As you’re about to open your mouth to say the next sentence, your phone rings. Based on the ringtone, it’s one of the important people in your life. You can tell that your wife is quite unhappy about getting interrupted, so you apologize to her, even if it’s not your fault. “It’s your mom, love,” you inform her, “one second, please.”

“Hello, this is Harvey,” you greet your mother-in-law, “you’re on speaker, mama.”

“Hello, Harvey”

“Can I help you, ma? Do you need anything?”

“I tried calling Yooyeon-ie but she didn’t pick up—where is she?”

Hearing that, Yooyeon jumps off your lap and runs to the bedroom to find her phone.

“Oh, she’s home with me—she just doesn’t have her phone on her. Is there anything you want to say to her?”

“No, not really. I just wanted to say congratulations—you’re celebrating your 6th anniversary soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are. I’m taking her to dinner this Thursday evening to celebrate,” you reveal your plan to her.

“Sounds great,” she says, “have you thought about getting her pregnant yet?”

The timing couldn’t get any better; Yooyeon was on her way back to you when her mom said that. You notice that she’s looking at you with a flat face that you can’t decipher.

“Erm,” you try to find an answer to the question, “we haven’t talked much about that, actually. We, uh, we’ll talk about that one day.”

“Is it you or her that doesn’t want to have children?”

You see Yooyeon pointing at herself, indirectly asking you to make her take the blame, but you can’t do that—you’re not throwing your wife under the bus, ever.

“It’s not that we don’t want children, ma. It’s just that we haven’t talked about it that much,” you deflect, defending yourself and your wife.

“Fine,” your mother-in-law gives up with little fight, “if you need help convincing my daughter to get pregnant, just call me—talk to you again soon, Harvey”

“See you soon, mama—stay healthy, please.”

You hang up the call and look at your wife. “Love, come here, please,” you tap your lap a few times. Instead of sitting on your lap like before, she gets down on her knees in front of you. “Love? Are you okay?” You’re unsure of her intentions. “F-forgive me, my love, b-but I’m not ready to have children yet,” she says while looking down at the carpet, “please don’t divorce me for that—please, tell me that everything is okay.” There’s no way you’d divorce your wife for not wanting a child, and you make it clear to her that it’d never happen: “I won’t leave you for that, love—trust me. I’m sure you have good reasons as to why you don’t want to have children, and whatever it is, I’m willing to accept it.”

Your wife slowly shifts her gaze upwards, and when you make eye contact with her, you show her a gentle smile. You tap your thighs again. “Come here, my love.” She slowly gets on her feet and moves to sit on your lap. She then hugs you and leans against your chest.

“Am I a bad wife, hon?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you say, “you’ve been the best wife I could ever ask for.”

“Am I a bad daughter, perhaps? Am I letting my parents down?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you repeat, “with respect to your parents, love, this life is ours, not theirs. We get to decide what to do, don’t we?”

Yooyeon stays silent, but you’re not satisfied until you get an answer. “Answer me, love.”

“Y-yes,” she says, “yes, we do.”

“Ding-ding-ding, that’s the correct answer,” you reward her with a peck on the head, “let me worry about your parents, love; I’ll tell them that it’s my choice to not have children, okay?”

Feeling satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon thanks you. “I love you, oppa,” she says, her voice soft, “I love you so much.” “I love you more, baby.”

You notice that a text just came to your phone. “Yunho needs some time to make a reservation for us, love,” you say, “if he’s successful—he should be, honestly—then we can go to The Sapphire on Thursday evening, just like we’ve planned.” “Great,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice, “I can’t wait, love.”

-

Before you know it, it’s now Thursday. You want to take Yooyeon on a little breakfast date today, so last night, you set up 3 alarms 15 minutes apart from each other to make sure you can wake up on time. When you wake up, though, she’s not in bed with you—even with alarms, you can’t beat her at waking up early; she’s just too good at it.

You collect yourself and start walking out of the bedroom. Your wife hears your heavy, sleepy steps from the kitchen. “Good morning, my love,” she greets you from the kitchen with a cup of (presumably) tea in her hands. You take the cup from her hands and put it on the counter. You then turn her around and hug her from behind, sinking your face in her hair. “Good morning,” you greet her back, “happy anniversary, wifey.” “Happy anniversary to you as well, hubby.” You’re not sure if she said Harvey or hubby—her accent makes those two words sound similar. You ask to make sure, “did you say Harvey or hubby?” “Yes,” she giggles, “it works either way, no?” True, it does work.

You hand your wife her cup again and let go of the hug. She asks if you’d like to have some tea, but you decline. “Let’s have breakfast out, love,” you say. “Sure,” she replies. She turns around with a smile on her face and points at the sofa. “Can we sit there, hon?” “We sure can, lovely.”

You sit on the sofa and your wife takes her favorite position on your lap. “My love, my honey, my world,” you call to her, “thank you for staying by my side all these years. I’m very thankful for you, love.” Yooyeon still gets shy whenever you praise her, which is cute, really. “Oh my God,” she covers her red face, “you’re always so sweet to me, honey.” She takes a deep breath and looks at you in the eyes. “I-I’m also thankful for you.” Her gaze stays strong and does not stray away from yours. “You’ve been the best husband I could ever ask for—I love you so much.”

After a quick kiss, Yooyeon tells you to take a shower. You lift her up and take her to the bathroom with you. “Ah, are we showering together?” She asks. You slap yourself internally for not asking first. “Oh, sorry, do you not want to?” “It’s not that,” she says, “it’s just that showering together takes longer.” That’s a valid point: “alright, you go first—I’ll wait for you on the sofa.” You lower her in front of the bathroom and turn around to walk towards the sofa again, but she stops you. “Look at me, please.” Your wife takes off her nightgown and shows you her nude form, and you notice that you’re getting hard—she probably notices it, too. Your eyes roam on her body, looking at her from top to bottom. “You look good, love—you always do,” you praise her, holding back your drool, “now go take a shower, please.” She mutters a soft thank you as she disappears behind the bathroom door.

-

After taking a shower yourself, you’re now ready to get breakfast with your wife. She says she wants to take a ride on the motorcycle, citing that she’s missed hugging you from behind while you ride around the city with her. She’s dressed for it, so you have no reason to say no, so here you are: riding around the city with your wife on the passenger seat, hugging you from behind as she wishes.

You arrive at her preferred breakfast spot after a short ride on Bob, your motorcycle, and your wife immediately jumps off in excitement—she’s so excited that she forgets that she still has her helmet on. “Not so fast, love,” you call to her via the intercom, “come here, let me take off your helmet.” She turns around comedically, and you can see her eye smile through the clear visor. You reach for the latch and lift the helmet off her head, making a small mess of her hair. She tidies it as much as she can, and you finish it by tucking a stray hair behind her ear. You then proceed to take off your helmet and walk with her inside the restaurant.

Yooyeon says that she’s been craving Singaporean-style butter toast, so she orders not one, but two toasts for herself—she even stutters when ordering, feeling embarrassed by herself. You, on the other hand, aren’t too interested in toasts, so you opt for congee with char siu beef, because congee in the morning is just too good to miss out on. After ordering, you find a table to sit at and talk to kill time.

Your wife pulls out her phone from her pocket. “Honey, your brother just texted me,” she says. “Which one?” You ask because you have twin little brothers. She scratches her head as she tries to remember his name. “Uh, erm, Jaehyun-ie—whatever his other name is.” You chuckle slightly. “Shane,” you remind her, “it’s Shane.” She puts on a grin as she nods. “Anyway,” she returns to the subject, “he said congratulations on the anniversary, and that he hopes to propose to Jiwoo by next month.” You’re glad that things are working out for your brother and his girlfriend; he’s a nice person and she’s an even better person. You tell your wife to thank him for the congratulations. “Also, tell him that I wish him a happy life with his girlfriend,” you add. “Alri—oh, he’s calling us, hon.”

Before she picks up the call, she moves to sit next to you. “It’s a video call, hon,” she says as she aims her front camera at the two of you, “I’m picking up in 3, 2, 1.”

“Hey, guys,” you greet Shane and his girlfriend, “good morning!”

“Good morning, hyung and noona,” he says, “congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys. We wish you eternal happiness.”

“Thank you, Shane,” you put on a thumbs-up, “how are you guys doing?”

His girlfriend takes the turn to speak, “we’ve been very good, oppa. I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

You put on a big smile, in approval of their relationship. “Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it.”

You then turn to your wife and hand the talking stick over to her. As soon as she starts talking to them, you see a waiter walking towards you with a tray full of food in his hands. You help him place the bowls on the table and ask Yooyeon to show them the food. “Yah, look at this,” Yooyeon switches to her rear camera and aims it at the food, “you guys want to join us?” Through the video call, you see Jiwoo slapping Shane’s thigh repeatedly. “Ahhhh, unnieeee,” Jiwoo whines cutely, “that’s Morningside, isn’t it? Oh my God, I’ve missed Morningside!” Jiwoo turns to Shane and whispers something to him, and he responds with a nod—they probably just set their next date. “We’ll join you next time, unnie,” Jiwoo says with an eye smile on her face, “we have other things to do today.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, they’re now ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” You and Yooyeon thank her for the kind words, and after exchanging waves, they end the video call. “Love, text Shane for me, please,” you say as you sprinkle pepper into your congee, “tell him to visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box.” She asks what it means, but you deflect: “he’ll know, love, don’t worry.”

-

“Let’s get changed, love,” you poke your wife, who is scrolling mindlessly through social media, “we need to leave soon.” She puts her phone down on the bed and moves to sit on your lap. “I have something special for tonight, hon; I hope you like it,” she says. “I’d say the chance of me liking it close to 100%,” you peck her on the lips, “get off me, please, love.”

Your wife returns the peck before jumping off your body, and in turn, the bed—and you follow suit after her. Based on how her face is decorated with a grin and pink cheeks, you can tell that she’s excited to show you what surprise she has up her sleeve. “Come oooon, get out of here!” She fixes her hands on your back and pushes you out of the bedroom.

You walk towards the spare bedroom that was turned into a walk-in closet a few years ago to find something nice to wear. You estimate that Yooyeon will be wearing a dress, but it’s the color of said dress that is the question. So, to anticipate, you grab some sets of jackets and trousers of different colors: navy, light grey, and dark blue. Along with them, you also grab a black shirt and a white shirt. “Do I need to wear a tie?” You tap your chin as you think about it. “Eh, probably not,” you decide, “I’m not in the mood." You then proceed to unlock your phone and say, “hey, Nudle, choose a number between 1 and 3.” After a short animation, the AI voice assistant picks 1. “Navy blue, it is.”

You quickly get rid of your T-shirt and shorts and let them pile on the floor. You then take the white shirt off its hanger and put it on. Before you put on your suit, you take a quick sniff to make sure it doesn’t smell when it’s being stored, and thankfully for you, it doesn't. “Oh, perfume—how did I forget.” You unbutton your shirt again and spray your wife’s favorite perfume on your belly button, chest, armpits, and nape. You continue dressing up and stand in front of the mirror to make sure everything is nice and tidy. “Heh, I look good,” you praise yourself, “no wonder Yooyeon-ie fell for me.”

After getting dressed up, you walk towards the bedroom and knock on the door. “Are we ready, love?” The door slowly swings open, revealing your wife, who is dressed in a fancy black sleeveless dress—she’s also wearing the necklace you bought for her. “Goodness me,” you feel your breath get taken away, “you look incredible, love.” Yooyeon reveals that she bought it when she went out with Kotone yesterday afternoon while you and Yunho played tennis.

“You like it, hon? I bought it specifically for tonight.” That’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it? “Of course, I do, love,” you scan her from top to bottom, “my God, aren’t you God’s most beautiful creation.” She smiles oh-so-beautifully thanks to your praise, and she rewards you with a peck on the lips. “Come on, hon,” she says, “I have a feeling that we’ll start getting horny if we don’t leave now.”

-

A staff member of The Sapphire greets you at the front door and asks, “are you here for a reservation?” You say yes and tell him your name, and after looking at his list, he turns to you again with a smile. “Follow me, please, sir and madam.” Your wife wraps an arm around yours as the two of you follow the staff into the restaurant to be taken to your table.

You follow him up the fancy stairs and onto the second floor, where a table costs more than any other part of the restaurant thanks to the privacy it offers. “I should thank Yunho for this,” you think. The staff stops at a table in the corner and politely points at it. “Would you like to have wine or champagne, sir and madam?” You decline politely, telling him that you and Yooyeon stopped drinking years ago—you’d like to have water in its place. “Of course, sir,” he says, “your course will start soon; please kindly wait.”

You show the staff a kind smile as he starts walking away, leaving you alone with your wife. “Love,” Yooyeon places her hands in the middle of the table, “thank you for taking me here—I love you.” You hold her hands and rub the back of them with your thumbs. “I love you more, love,” you say, “happy anniversary.” “Happy anniversary to you, too.” Your wife smiles at you lovingly, and you notice the way her eyes are glassy from unreleased tears.

“Love, listen to me, please,” you take a deep breath before saying your next point. “I know that sometimes I spend too much time working and come home very late but believe me that everything I do is out of love for you—you matter the most to me, love, and it’s been an honor for me to be able to provide for the two of us like this.” You don’t know what made you say that, but it just feels right at the moment. “I know,” her voice trembles from the emotions, “believe me, I know.” She pulls out a handkerchief from her purse and wipes a tear with it. “I always pray for you when you’re not at home, and when you are, I always want to show you how much I love you,” she adds.

You can tell that she wants to kiss you, but this round table is in the way. There’s no one else on this floor, so you summon her to you so that you can kiss her. She sits sideways on your lap—because her dress doesn’t allow her to sit like she usually does—and kisses you passionately, screaming at you how much she loves you. “I will always love you, Harvey,” she says, her eyes still glassy. “Did you say Harvey or hubby?” You crack a little joke to lighten the mood, earning a laugh from your wife. “Go back to your seat, love; the food will be here soon.”

“What are we having, honey?” Yooyeon asks. “Yunho showed me a list and here are the things I chose—you ready?” Before you can say the first thing, your wife shows you an open palm to halt you. “That’s alright, hon; I’m sure the server will tell us what we’re eating,” she says. You burst out laughing as a response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t have to wait long until the first dish was brought out to your table. “These are the sea scallops with avocado, frisée, and key lime vinaigrette, sir and madam.” A server sets two small plates on your table while another server pours water into your glasses. “Please enjoy, sir and madam; we are glad to have you with us tonight.”

After the servers leave your table, you raise your glass. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse,” you say. Your wife repeats the line and clinks her glass with yours. “I will never get tired of saying that line,” she says, “now, shall we?” Yes, we shall—let’s stop talking and start eating, hey? It’s what the two of you came here for.

-

You’re now back at home after a few hours of dinner. You sit on the sofa without changing your clothes, because you can’t be bothered to do so just yet. “Wait here, hon,” your wife enters the bedroom, presumably to get something she wants to show you.

She comes out of the bedroom while hugging a photo album. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “would you be down to go down the memory lane?” You nod, “sure, come and sit next to me, love.” She waddles cutely towards you, her face decorated with a beautiful eye smile and an adorable grin.

“First thing first,” she says as she opens the album, “your love letter to me, which you sent via Shane.” You feel your cheeks getting hot; you had Shane go to the post office and send a letter you had written to Yooyeon, in it a love confession and an invitation to dinner—the mail was under his name, too. “I wonder if Shane wrote Jiwoo a love confession like his brother did to me,” Yooyeon piles on. “Do you remember what you wrote, by the way?” You nod. “Of course I do—how can I forget? That was my last attempt at courting you.”

The letter went a little bit like this:

“Dear Miss Kim Yooyeon,

I’ve been meaning to share with you the thing that has been on my mind for quite some time.

From the moment we met, I felt attracted to you in a way that I couldn’t describe. Your sweetness, your sharpness of mind, and the way you perceive things around you have captivated me in ways that I never expected. In the short conversations we’ve shared, I found myself longing for the next one, and the next one, and the one after that. I eventually realized that there was something deeper than just mere excitement or admiration—it’s love.

With this letter, I would like to be honest and let you know that I cherish and treasure you more than words can express. Your presence in my life, despite being minimal (for now), has brought me so much joy and excitement, and I can’t help but think of a future together, where we share more memories, more laughs, and more dreams.

With that in mind, I would like to have the chance to spend more time with you in a special way. Would you like to join me for dinner? My family has a special place we often go to together, and I think that it would be such a great honor if you could be my guest. Perhaps we will be able to talk more about us and see how we might proceed from here.

Kindly let me know if you’re free next weekend and interested in this. Please understand that I want you to know how much you mean to me, and I look forward to hearing from you.

With affection and respect,

Han ‘Harvey’ Hyunjin.”

“I was so confused why you wrote your name like this,” Yooyeon says, placing a finger on your name, “I had always known you as Harvey.” You chuckle in response. “You’re not the first person to say that, love.”

Yooyeon then moves on to the picture on the first page. “Florence, honey.” She shows you a selfie of the two of you eating gelato while sitting on a bench. You sigh as you carefully tread the lane of memory. “We had fought a few days before we left for Florence, hadn’t we, love?” Your wife lets out a sigh too. “I saw a piece of paper on the kitchen counter, and I thought that was our divorce paper,” she says, “imagine my surprise when I found out that it was our plane ticket.” You wrap an arm around your wife and softly say, “I’m so sorry for that, love; I was so self-centered and didn’t take your feelings into account.” “It’s okay,” she pecks the side of your face, “I think we’ve learned a lot since that.”

“Next,” she looks at the other side of the page, “moving into this house.” The price of the house had gone up a few weeks prior, forcing you to sell your cars so that you could afford it. “You could’ve taken my money and kept the cars, you know,” your wife says, a hint of regret in her voice. “But that was your life savings, love; I couldn’t bring myself to take it,” you reason. “I know, but still, I wouldn’t have had a problem with that,” she counters.

She bursts out laughing when she sees the first picture on the next page. “Oh my God, I remember this like it was yesterday,” she points at the picture of her getting licked by a camel in Dubai. You join her in laughing as you recall the memory. “You were so startled that you fell backwards—if you hadn’t worn jeans back then, the camel guy would’ve seen your panties.” Yooyeon covers her face and shakes her head. “God, it was so close to being disastrous.” Aside from the photo, you also have a video on your phone of her sliding down a sand hill on a sled while screaming from the top of her lungs, which is both very funny and memorable.

Her smile fades instantly when she sees the picture placed on the 4th page—it’s a picture of you bearing your uncle’s pall with your twin brothers and dad, taken by Yooyeon from a distance. “Your uncle, hon,” she says, sadness woven in her voice. Your mom’s older brother passed away from cardiac arrest in the middle of the night, right when you were having sex to celebrate your 4th anniversary. You remember stopping abruptly when you heard the news through your smartwatch, thus ruining your and her mood. “What went through your head when we had to stop, love?” You ask, trying to understand what it was like for her. “Please don’t get mad, but initially I was so unhappy,” she says, “I had been so desperate for your touch, but then we had to end awkwardly like that.” You peck her head as a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry about that, love, but I’m sure you know what he meant for us.”

You move on to the final page of the album, which has two pictures on it. Placed on the top is a picture of Yooyeon holding a plate full of cookies with you sleeping in the background. Underneath that is a group selfie of you, Yooyeon, Shane, Jiwoo, and Shaun who was holding the phone (he was single at the time), taken after dinner at your house. Jiwoo made scones and they were so good that Yooyeon asked her to make one more batch before letting her leave. Jiwoo and Shaun ended up staying the night at your house because it was so late by the time she was done.

“Did you hear Jiwoo’s moans, by the way?” Your wife’s question stuns you momentarily. “Excuse me?” “Oh, you must’ve been asleep,” she chuckles, “I heard them when I was on my way to the toilet, and all I’m going to say is that Shane must be good at sex, just like his older brother.” “Shane, you—oh, my fucking God!” You palm your forehead, unsure of what to make of this information. You certainly did not need to know that your little brother was smashing his girlfriend while staying at your house. “Well, at least Shane and Jiwoo were happy,” you think.

“Speaking of moaning,” your wife moves to sit on your lap, “you haven’t made me moan yet—it’s time to rectify that, don’t you think?” You burst out laughing, amused by her stunt. Yooyeon from 5 to 6 years ago would beat around the bush whenever she wanted sex, but nowadays, she’ll say the craziest things to get you to touch her. “I never thought you’d be so crazy, love,” you say. “Can we start now, please? I-I’m impatient,” she says, her cheeks hot.

Your wife doesn’t want to have sex outside the bedroom, and as boring as it is sometimes, you don’t want to go against her wishes. With that in mind, you carry your wife by her butt to the bedroom. On the way there, you notice that her breathing is getting faster, so you rush to the bedroom and promptly sit on the edge of the bed.

“Love, are you okay?” You ask, concerned about how her heart is racing for seemingly no reason. She takes a deep breath before answering. “I-I have a feeling that I’m fertile today, a-and you might make me pregnant if you… y’know.” “Do you want to get pregnant, love?” She stays silent for a little while as she thinks of an answer—only to end up returning the question to you. “D-do you want me to get pregnant, honey?” “No, no, no, it doesn’t work like that,” you deflect, “this isn’t just about me, love; if you don’t want to get pregnant, then we’re not getting you pregnant.” She takes another moment of silence as she thinks about her options. “Don’t worry about your parents, love; this life is ours, not theirs, and we get to make our own choices,” you assure her. “Okay,” she says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get pregnant—not yet at least.” You assure her again that she has nothing to be sorry for and that you’ll never let anyone press your wife into getting pregnant.

“I love you,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere, “thank you for everything, honey.” You want to say it back to her, but you think that it’s better to kiss her instead. Without breaking the kiss, your wife holds your hand and guides it to the zipper on her back, signaling to you that she wants to undress. With little effort, you manage to unzip her dress all the way down and sneak your hand inside to feel her soft skin. She abruptly breaks the kiss and jumps off your lap. You ask if she’s okay, and she responds by putting on a sexy smile and turns her back against you.

You keep an eye on your wife as she wiggles her body around, and would you look at that: her dress falls off swiftly with little effort and pools around her feet, revealing her strapless bra and matching panties. She turns her head to the side just enough to see you wiping drool from the corners of your lips. “You’re never going to get tired of me, are you?” “No, I’m not,” you say, “have you seen yourself? Do you need to look in the mirror again?” Satisfied with the exchange, she turns around and kneels in between your legs. “What are we waiting for then?”

You can hear the machine-like hum from the AC, so you know that the only reason it’s getting so hot in this bedroom is because of your arousal. With your wife still kneeling on the floor in front of you, you free yourself from the constraints that are your jacket and shirt, and you see that your wife is smiling at you. You’re struggling to decide if her smile is sexy or beautiful, though—you know you like it, that’s for sure.

“Would you like to do the honors?” You offer your wife the chance to take off your pants. Without saying a word, she unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants. “May I?” How cute is it that she’s still asking for permission in this position? “Yes, love, you may,” you say. She puts her hands on the inside of the waistband and makes sure that she’s also grabbing your boxers. She gives you one more look and you respond with a nod. With a grunt, Yooyeon pulls your pants and boxers down, thus freeing your cock from its constraints.

She starts stroking your shaft, admiring the length and stiffness. “Wow,” she utters, “it’s crazy how it fits in my body every single time.” It seems like she said it without thinking, judging by how she jolts a little after. “Anyway,” she chuckles, “here I go.” Your wife parts her lips and eases you into her mouth—nothing too crazy for now; she’s not rushing to take you deep right away. That said, it’s still very pleasant for you. You place a hand on her head and pet her gently, praising her for the good work and encouraging her to keep going. “Yes, love,” you say, “that’s very good, baby.”

She does love hearing praises (especially from you) but at the same time, they make her get overexcited sometimes, so you keep an eye on her and make sure that she won’t end up hurting herself while sucking your cock. “Ghlk!” Well, speak of the devil; she just choked on your shaft. “Easy, love, easy; there’s no need to rush,” you try to calm her down—alas, it doesn’t seem to work. In the moment of panic, your wife stumbles backwards, thus removing you from her mouth, and starts coughing. You pick her up from the floor and make her sit on your lap. “It’s okay, love—it’s okay,” you rub her chest gently, “you’re okay, you’re okay. Let’s calm down for a second, yeah?”

After catching her breath, she’s now able to function properly again. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I-I got excited because you praised me.” “I had a feeling that’d happen,” you peck her on the lips once, “thank you for trying, love.” Yooyeon accepts your thanks with a smile, which makes you smile yourself.

You move to the middle of the bed with her, and that’s when she says that she’s ready to continue. “C-can we try something?” She asks, and you swear that you can see a floating bulb over her head. “We sure can, love; tell me what you need from me,” you say. First of all, she asks that you let her go and lie on your back, which is very easy to do. She then moves to sit on your lap and tells you the next part. “I will ride you like this, hon, but you can’t touch me at all,” she says as she takes off her panties, tossing it over her head after. “That sounds difficult, love—are you sure you’re not asking too much from me?” She lets out a laugh at your joke. “That’s your challenge, hon; do that and I’ll make sure it’s worth your while,” she promises, “now, hands above your head, please.”

You do as she asks and put your hands on the bed above your head. “I’m all yours, baby,” you hand over the controls to her. “That’s usually my line, is it not?” With your cock in her hand, she guides it towards her entrance and slowly takes you in. “Oh, God, this will never get old,” she says. It feels odd to not have your hands on her, but you’re committed to completing the challenge. Your wife maintains eye contact with you as she starts rolling her hips back and forth, basking in the sensation of being stretched by your girth. “S-struggling, hon?” “Yeah, and so are you,” you say, “I know—” Yooyeon cuts you off with a slap on the cheek. “Quiet, you; I’m calling the shots today.”

“Fuck, that’s naughty,” you think to yourself. You’re not offended or turned off by the little act of violence—it arouses you more, in fact; you’re as hard as you can get in her tight core right now. “I’m yours, mistress,” you rile her up by playing submissive. “Damn right you are,” she puts on a naughty smirk. She leans forward to hold your wrists down and she’s far enough forward that her tits are within licking range. “Be a good boy and make me cum, will you?”

After getting a nod from you, she starts fucking herself on your cock, going up and down at her own pace. It’s cute to see that she’s moaning so freely despite her tough and dominant front. On the other hand, you’re having so much fun right now; your wife is taking control after being submissive for countless sessions over the years, and you seriously hope that this isn’t just a one-time thing.

You notice that she’s starting to slow down and showing signs of exhaustion. “Is that all you have, mistress? All that talk and you’re tired already?” You taunt her, hoping that it’ll trigger her into speeding up again. “Fuck you,” she snarks, “fuck, this is harder than I thought.” You lift your head off the pillow just enough for your mouth to reach her tits and bite a nipple lightly. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you—oh, fuck, fuck!” You put on a teasing smirk, “what are you going to do about it, mistress?”

The teasing proves to somewhat work—she makes a move for your exposed neck and bites you lightly, making her annoyance at your disobedience known. “Apologize,” she demands, “you don’t want to get hurt, do you?” “N-no,” you adhere to her demand, “I-I’m sorry, mistress.” She pecks you on the lips, satisfied with your apology. “That’s a good boy.”

Your wife fixes her lips on your neck and starts moving her hips again, squeezing you with her tightness, and you can’t help but let out low-pitched moans right into her ears. You notice that she starts sucking on your neck harder. “Mark me, mistress,” you egg her on, “show everyone I’m yours.” Thankfully for you, she’s good at multitasking; not only is she trying her hardest to plant hickeys on your neck, but she’s also not letting up the bounces of her hips. “You’re so good, mistress—you’re so good to me,” you praise her, and you’re starting to wonder if this is considered being submissive.

It seems like she’s finally satisfied with her work on your neck, as she retreats from it and straightens her posture—she also frees your wrists and plants her hands on your chest. “Make me cum, my dear boy,” she reminds you of your task, “please, make your mistress cum.” Her wish is your command tonight, so you do your best to thrust into her from below, making her entire body bounce in the process. Your wife seems to approve this method, as the moans she’s letting out are louder and more frequent. “Am I doing it well, mistress?” “Yes—God, yes, you are,” she says with heavy pants, “please, please, I’m so close already.”

You pick up your pace and fuck her as fast as this position allows you—all the while you’re fighting the strong urge to lay hands on your wife. “Honey, honey,” she calls to you, “I’m about to burst—oh, oh, yes!” Her announcement removes whatever sign of exhaustion from your body and instead fuels the flame of your arousal. “Come on, love,” you subconsciously drop the name, “let’s cum—let’s fucking cum now.”

With a scream, Yooyeon lifts herself off your cock and sprays her juice all over your torso—some of it even hits your face, how nice. You take some in your fingers and have a taste—hmm, interesting taste. You look at your panting wife, whose eyes are closed and lips trembling, as her orgasm takes her to the seventh heaven. You guess that you’ve completed the challenge and are now allowed to touch her, so you take her in your arms and pull her into a cuddle.

“Did I do well, mistress?” You ask teasingly, not forgetting the name. “Ve-very well,” she shows you a thumbs-up, “I am spent, hon.” You ask if she liked taking the dominant role, and she covers her face in shyness. “I-I think I liked it,” she says, “y-you were cooperative too, hon.” You pepper her face with quick pecks, overwhelming her with them. “I aim to please, my love.” She puts her hands on either side of your face and comes in for a proper kiss, and you can really feel that she loves and appreciates you. “I love you,” she affirms, “I love you so, so, so, so, so much.” “I love you so, so, so, so, so, much more,” you say, chuckling after.

You excuse yourself to get some water and your wife asks you to grab her phone from the living room while you’re at it. “A missed call from someone named Jaehoon?” You furrow your eyebrows, a hint of suspicion in your head. “Oh my God, Jaehoon-ie,” you slap your forehead as the realization hits, “that’s just Shaun.” You almost forget that your wife saves you and your brothers by your other names on her phone.

You walk into the bedroom with her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Love,” you call to her, “a missed call from Jaehoon-ie.” After getting her phone back from you, Yooyeon calls Shaun back in case he has something important to say.

“Hello, noona,” he says, “were you asleep?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she looks at you with a naughty smirk, “your brother was smashing me so I couldn’t pick up the phone.”

“What the f—I didn’t need to know that, you know.”

Yooyeon hands her phone over to you, and in exchange, you hand the bottle over to her and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yo, hello,” you take over, “what time is it in New York, Shaun?”

“Uhh,” he takes a moment of silence, probably to check his watch, “around 9 in the morning—we just had breakfast.”

“Oh, right, you’re there with Seeun-ie, aren’t you?”

As soon as you say it, you hear a woman’s laugh from Shaun’s side of the call—wait, why is your wife crawling to you?

“Hello, oppa,” Seeun greets you warmly, “good morning from New York!”

“Good morning, cookie,” you say, still keeping an eye on your wife, who is now kneeling in between your legs like earlier—she must be up to no good. “So, what did you call us for?” Shaun is giving you an answer, but your focus is directed at your wife, who’s starting to give you head. You take a deep breath to concentrate and make sure you don’t arouse suspicion from your brother and his girlfriend.

“I have a feeling that you’re not listening to me, hyung,” Shaun notices, “is noona touching you?”

Well, you’re caught—might as well open the cards for everyone to see. “Yeah, she’s sucking me off,” you reveal nonchalantly, “talk to you guys soon.”

You hear a little surprised yelp from Seeun as you’re hanging up the phone but it’s whatever; you’re all adults. “You couldn’t wait, love? Are you that impatient?” You question your wife, who’s going up and down your shaft with her mouth. She gives you a little wink, and a naughty idea enters your mind. With her phone in hand, you open the camera app and aim it at her. “Say cheese, love.” As soon as she makes eye contact with the camera, you take a picture. You show your wife the picture of her with a quarter of your shaft in her mouth. You expect her to get mad and ask you to delete it, but she doesn’t—she just lets out a giggle. “I guess that’s our entry for this year,” she says, “anyway, I’m going again—don’t disturb me, please.”

You want to say that it was Shaun who disturbed the two of you, but the way she’s wrapping her lips around your shaft stifles your tongue. “That’s really good, love,” you praise her, “remember, don’t get too excited.” Yooyeon takes a deep breath through her nose before negotiating your shaft deeper into her mouth, possibly into her throat. “Fuck, you’re crazy, love,” you comment.

You see that she’s in a halt, so you ask if she’s okay. She pulls away momentarily to take a breather and possibly say something. “I’m okay, don’t worry,” she says, “how far do you think I can take you?” “Sorry?” You can’t believe your ears. “I want to see how far down I can take you, hon, but I think I need your help—you’ll need to push my head from behind.” “If I see that you’re uncomfortable, I’m pulling out, okay?”

Once the two of you have come to an agreement, Yooyeon parts her lips again and takes you in her mouth. You let her go as far forwards as she can while making sure that she’s not in stress or danger. It’s when she reaches halfway down your shaft that she stops. “Let’s try this, love, alright?” You place a hand on the back of her head and gently push her towards your crotch. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at this, love,” you let another praise fly out of your lips.

Yooyeon closes her eyes as more of your shaft enters her mouth, and she can feel the tip of your penis poking the back of her throat. “Stay calm, Kim Yooyeon; you can do this—do it for your precious husband”, her brain tells her. She plants her hands on your thighs as she tries her hardest to keep her jaws as wide open as she can. She tries looking up at you to find comfort, and you make sure to look her right in the eyes, smiling as you do. “You’re doing great, love—you’re so damn good at this,” you pet her head gently, not pushing her further down your shaft.

You notice that she’s getting limp, so you promptly retreat from her throat so that she can breathe. You pull her into your lap again and immediately spam her with praises. “You were so brave, love,” you say, “I admire how you’re willing to go the distance for my pleasure.” You don’t care if it sounds so self-centered, but it’s true in your opinion. “You’re my husband,” she rubs the side of your face gently, “your happiness is the top of my priority.” You thank her for that attitude, but you also assure her that she’s equally important in this relationship, and that she’s always welcome to express her desires.

“Is that so?” She asks the obvious. “Yes, that is so,” you state the obvious. “Well in that case,” she places her hand on her crotch, “you haven’t been here yet.” You ask if she wants you to wear a condom, but she firmly declines. “I’ll just take the pill after, it’s not a big issue,” she says. You ask if she wants to take control again, but she says no. “Being dominant is tiring, hon,” she says.

With that out of the way, you stand up and lower your wife onto the floor. You then turn her around and bend her over the edge of the bed. “Oh, I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” she says, letting out a chuckle after, “well, what are you—oh, God, honey.” You cut her off by plunging your cock deep into her. “Sorry, you were saying?” You tease her, but she can’t reply because she’s too busy moaning—she also doesn’t have to put on a charade like earlier; she just simply needs to act like she usually does: submissive and obedient.

You failed to notice that your hands were on her hips the entire time, so you remove them and put them behind your back. “Oh, oh—w-what are you doing? Where—ngh—where are your hands?” Well, it seems like she does like it when your hands are on her body. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you,” you say jokingly, “here, let me fix that.” You place one hand on her hip and use the other to deliver a slap onto her butt, making her scream. “Like this, love?” You spank her one more time with your other hand. “Or maybe like this?”

Your wife squirms around as she tries to cope with the sting from the slap, but your big hands don’t allow her to move too much. “H-honey,” she says weakly, “s-stop hitting me, please.” You stop your thrusts momentarily to apologize and ease her pain by rubbing her butt cheeks gently. “I’m sorry, baby—was I too rough? Would you like to stop for a moment?” Seeing that she’s nodding, you retreat from her warmth and flip her onto her back. You then move her into a more comfortable position in bed, giving her the time to catch her breath and calm herself down.

After getting herself together, Yooyeon reaches her arms out, inviting you to enter her warm embrace. “To me, please,” she asks, her voice weak and quiet. You join her in bed and wrap your arms around her, not forgetting to apologize for being too rough on her. “I-I often forget how lustful you are for me,” she says. “You are my wife, love; if I’m not lustful for you, then something must be wrong with me,” you reply. It is true, though, is it not? If a man like you is married to a woman like her but isn’t interested in getting sexual with her, then that guy must be fucked in the head—and the narrator shares the same idea, too.

She stays in your arms for a few more minutes until she feels ready to go again—she begs you to not be so rough this time. “Certainly, love,” you say. You roll over so that you’re on top of your wife, and without being asked, she parts her legs and wraps them around your body. “You know,” she calls for your attention, “I always feel loved when we do it like this, oppa.” Hearing her refer to you by that term makes your heart flutter—it makes you feel like you’re 26 again, back when you were still trying to court her. “I do love you, sweetheart—I will always love you until you’re sick of me.”

She places a hand on your nape and pulls you down towards her for a kiss, and while your lips are connected with hers, you hold your cock in one hand and ease your way into her warmth again. When it first goes in, Yooyeon breaks the kiss and moans right against your lips. “I love you, Hyunjin-oppa,” she says in a soft tone, “you’re always so kind and sweet to me.” “Thank you, love; I try my hardest for you,” you replicate the soft tone, “and I love you more, Yooyeon-ah.”

You start moving your hips slowly, really savoring how warm and tight she is around your girth. “Love, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can last too long,” you say, hoping that she won’t be disappointed. “That’s fine; I don’t want to work too hard for your cum anyway,” she says. You move your head to the side and latch on her neck, and your wife’s moans get louder in response.

You can feel your cock twitching in her core, and she can feel it too. “C’mon, honey, give it to me. Give it to—oh!” With a grunt, you blow your load deep into your wife, just the way she likes it. You stay inside her and wait until all of your cum has come out of your penis. At the same time, your wife is letting out a very long moan, as your warm semen enters her body.

You’re starting to get drowsy for some reason, though. “Kim Yooyeon, I… love—”

-

You stir awake in the middle of the night when you hear a thud. In your half-awake state, you move your hands around, and the fact that you can’t feel your wife’s presence makes you jolt in panic.

You lift your head and see that your wife is on the floor while rubbing her knees, seemingly in pain. “Love, are you okay?” You ask, still unable to fully open your eyes. “I am, honey—ow, shit!” You ask what she’s doing, and she tells you that she was trying to get the polaroid camera from the wardrobe, but her legs were too weak, causing her to fall on her knees. “I will—” a yawn cuts you off, “I will get it for you, love.”

You gather your consciousness and get off the bed. You first help your wife and place her on the bed before heading towards the wardrobe to get the camera and film. You insert one film into the one-eyed machine and hand it over to your wife. “What are you doing with it, love?” Your wife claps her hands twice to turn on the lights and asks you to sit next to her. “Let’s take a picture, oppa; I don’t think a picture of me sucking you is appropriate to be displayed,” she says.

You chuckle in agreement with your wife. You move to sit next to her and rub your eyes to fully wake up. “Say cheese, oppa.” Yooyeon aims the camera at the two of you and presses a button. After a short while, the film comes out and she shakes it with all her might until the picture is clearly visible. “Happy anniversary, my beloved husband,” she says, love and affection woven in her voice. “Happy anniversary, my dear wife,” you reply.

After a quick kiss, you hold her hands in yours. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.” “Indeed,” she replies, “together always, until death do us part.” “Hey, that’s new—did you come up with it recently?” She slaps your chest lightly while laughing. “Come, let’s go back to sleep, oppa.”

[dannyriccsupremacy]

suburban legends | CL16

| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau

| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.

| faceclaim : christina nadin

| part one here ! part two here !

youruser just posted a story!

yn, her bff, chloe, julia and amelia all sat at a cafe by the water catching up. their drunken plans from the club bathroom that night had turned into a reality, and they were all so excited to see each other- and follow each other on social media.

as they were chatting, giggling with each other, your bff suddenly gasped and scoffed.

"whats that for?" yn asked, slighting laughing at her antics.

"ex-o'clock." she said sipping her drink, "yours, not mine."

"what?!" yn exclaimed, giving her bff a look, "definitely him?"

your bff nodded, rolling her eyes. the other three girls were avidly looking at everyone in the vicinity, trying to work out which man was eliciting this reaction from the duo.

"brown hair, sunglasses, white shirt, two o'clock." your bff answered their unspoken question.

the trio's eyes landed on the man at the same time, and amelia suddenly went white. soon the other four's attention was on her, concerned.

"miels, what's wrong?" julia asked, placing her hand on amelia's arm.

"oh, n-nothing." amelia shook her head.

"no, honey, what's wrong?" chloe questioned, her curiosity peaking.

"i feel awful. i didn't know, i swear." amelia apologised frantically.

"know what?" yn furrowed her brows.

"he's the one i'm talking to right now. charles is the one i'm seeing. and yn, your the ex he isn't over yet." amelia blurted, cheeks turning pink.

"amelia... i am so, so sorry." yn apologised, a sympathetic expression on her face.

"yn! do not apologise. especially not for a man!" amelia scolded, laughing slightly, "i was going to break things off with him anyway. he is well and truly still in love with you."

yn smiled sadly, taking another glance at the man, only to find him already staring at her, love still shining in his eyes.

liked by lilymhe, sacreskin + 90,367 others

youruser bros b4 hoes 😉

view all 16,324 comments

yourbff words of wisdom

user omg is this about that one tweet??

ameliahobart bros 4ever

user in her post breakup popularity era

user yn is so hot

juliaverner marry me pls!!

↳ chloedarren she said no hoes maam 🚫

user i bet charles misses her

lilymhe no hoes here 🙅‍♀️

↳ alex_albon lily???

↳ carmenmundt get over yourself albono. sucks 4 u

↳ georgerussell63 carmen???

↳ youruser please no hoes in the comment section. read the sign.

↳ francisca.cgomes yeah scram

↳ pierregasly kika???

↳ user i love the unhingedness in yns comment section

amelia sat across from yn, a slightly embarrassed look on her face.

"look, yn, i really like you and i really want to stay friends with you, so i just really need to tell you this so i don't think that our entire friendship is built on lies." amelia blurted, causing the confused look on yn's face. yn nodded for her to continue.

"basically, charles hired me. i'm an aspiring actress and i answered a call he had put out for someone that fit my description. when i sat down and met him for the first time, he explained that he wanted someone to pretend that they were his girlfriend to make his ex- you- jealous." she explained, wringing her hands together.

"when i first met you, i didn't know you were the ex, but he told me to keep up the act with everyone since monaco is such a small place and everyone talks." she took a breath, "but then when your bff pointed out him as your ex, i wanted to say something, but i really liked you so i didn't want to ruin the friendship we had already created."

yn sat in silence as she took in the girl's words. "okay."

"okay?" amelia was nervous, "just okay? is that like a bad okay, or is it a good okay?"

"a good okay," yn smiled, "i really want to keep being your friend so i'm so happy that you told me now. i definitely would of had to re-evaluate the relationship if it happened later down the line."

"oh thank god!" amelia let out a sigh of relief, at which yn laughed, "but i do want to let you know that charles still truly loves you. like he would not shut up about how amazing you are. i have only heard his side of the story, but if i were you, i would definitely get back together with him."

"he kissed me in a way that screwed me up forever, then i broke my own heart because he was too afraid to do it." yn responded, thinking back on their relationship.

"sounds like you were born to be suburban legends!" amelia giggled.

"i think i might." yn grinned.

"now i did meet his friend lando... what's his deal?"

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff + 95,375 others

youruser our mismatched star signs surprised everyone 🤷‍♀️

view all 21,598 comments

yourbff pop off ig

↳ youruser slay

pierregasly at least he doesn't mope around anymore

↳ youruser aw honey you moped?

↳ charles_leclerc FALSE. LIES. MISINFORMATION.

user MY PARENTS!!!! ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!

↳ user NO LONGER A CHILD OF DIVORCE!!!

user i cant believe theyre back together

user honestly... i would too

ameliahobart the cutest couple!! (set me up with ykw pls!!)

↳ juliaverner dont manipulate them

↳ ameliahobart but i manipulated them together 😔

↳ chloedarren 🎶 cause [she's] a mastermind 🎶

user NATIONAL TREASURES.

authors note i literally took so long to get this part out i am so sorry!! but this will be the last part. a spin off may occur 👀

@allywthsr @sunny44 @coolio2195 @multi-fanss @babyliz43-blog @redbullgirly @smnthnclj @d3kstar @living-with-ghost @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 3: Blowjob

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM Yunjin x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,524

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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There are days that something is prominent in your university life and must not be left behind, but think about it again—is it really that important?

What was it, anyway? Well, apart from the plethora of asynchronous to reflection-type activities and assignments, it would be the usual attachments with Huh Yunjin and your own endeavors with her. It’s crazy to say that a perfect girl like her became your best-friend in just a snap of a finger yet you wouldn’t complain—a girl like her should be treasured; you can’t afford to lose her and should be protected at all costs. Well, after all, you’re Yunjin’s knight and shining armor while she’s your foundation and your emotional support and it all just balances when the two of you are together.

Friends. Yes, there’s maybe nothing more than that—oh, wait, she’s your best friend and probably the one that’s there for everything, even if it’s more than beneficial.

“Come on man, we gotta go! You can’t just sit there and do nothing!”

“Yunjin, can you just wait and I am doing something, by the way. Just leave me in peace while I finish this, please—”

“Arghh, why would you just do it now??” Yunjin’s tone masks annoyance and disappointment as she’s not having it whenever you’re doing such assignments with little to no time left and all in a rush. “We’re going to be late for class and I don’t wanna miss out on anything because of this dumb stupidity by you!”

You’re now getting annoyed with her antics and soon, you’re going to explode out of anger but you know that this is just Yunjin herself. An impatient bugbear that will literally scold you for minutes—yes, that’s her. She has a great point too, in all fairness—the point of your pointless procrastination in so-little time when there’s plenty of it yesterday. She knows how hard you can procrastinate over something but for her, this is just too far and she’s not having it.

“Come on! I’m blaming you whenever we get called out for being late! You’re such a—”

“Then go without me then! Can’t you see I’m finishing this as fast as I can?”

The room permeates silence; the earlier ebullient sounds of so-called quarrel is now replaced with just breaths, Yunjin shutting herself up as fear runs down her veins, scared with your serious tone and your intimidatingly stern look. Of course, she won’t leave you hanging like this and won’t go without you so, she just sat down beside you and tapped your shoulder, wanting your attention to be averted towards hers.

“Hey, I’m sorry—we’re just going to be late in class and I’m just worried about it…”

“Yeah, yeah, Yunjin. It’ll be done, okay? Just sit and wait there on the couch, please.”

She immediately followed what you’ve commanded her and it was an awkward situation to be in, let alone the uncanny silence following it. She knows how much of a tsundere you are, really ignoring the fact of apologizing for something she shouldn’t be apologizing for and your ignorance of it. It’s not the fact that you don’t appreciate something for her but rather, your focus was just on finishing this madness as soon as possible as you didn’t care what could stop you. After a few more minutes of more stress and peak procrastination, you’ve finally reached the endpoint and you could have never been happier than this.

“God, finally—I’m done with this shit! Yunjin, have you closed everything? Checked everything?” you ask her but just a hitch of her breath is the response, and then such deafening silence follows (deafening as you can’t stand playing games with her right now, getting too irritated with her childish antics). “Hey, Yunjin! I’m asking you and just answer the question good god—stop playing with me!”

Another faint silence ensues until she breaks the tow—

“Yes, I did! Gosh, you’re always so serious!”

“Yunjin, not this time, okay? We’re running late and you’re making me look like I’m the one who’s more concerned when you can’t shut your mouth earlier about being late.”

She knows you have a point and she didn’t bother debating her side—there’s no need for that, since it’s just a small thing that shouldn’t be escalated further.

“Okay, okay, calm down, jeez—let’s just go now, everything’s all good too.”

You packed your things in a rush as the both of your eyes wandered on the unchecked sides of the apartment as everything is fine, the two of your rushing yourselves right after in order not to get late onto the the class of your strict professor—you just don’t want to get called out again, and neither does Yunjin.

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

Thank god the both of you got there in time and gladly, the lecture ended in just an hour as everything went smoothly and with no repercussions. After that, the both of you then coursed your way onto the university’s quadrangle, finding a table and a bench to invest into some studies and engage in some interesting talks with her since it’s mostly your free time until it’s near sunset. Even with the peaceful atmosphere nature gives, you can’t help but be bothered with Yunjin’s sporadic mannerisms as something feels off about her yet you didn’t really mind it.

“Hey, you idiot.”

“What, Yunjin?” You looked at her, slightly annoyed as it’s evident on your face yet you anticipate. 

“Do you think he will like this?” She sighs heavily with a pessimistic look on her face, looking a little defeated knowing what may come next will not be in her own favor. She fidgets the small, folded paper between her fingers as she blows some air heavily, feeling a hint of defeat.

“What is that—” You swiftly grabbed the piece of paper that she’s staring at as it caught her off-guard, also letting out an irritated growl because of your irksome advances. 

“Hey! Give it to me!”

“Dear Cheol-san, I wish—”

“Hey, give it back—arghh!” Yunjin then got the chance to grab the paper away from your hands as she glares at you, definitely infuriated from your childish actions. “You’re so stupid! I hate you…”

The earlier bright atmosphere suddenly became clouded with awkwardness and vex, your actions really getting into the path of consequence as you felt bad for her, regretting what you’ve done and apologizing to her right after.

“Hey, I was just kidding with you—I’m sorry…”

She slowly averted her eyes towards you, then faintly smiling yet annoyance is still evident on her face. 

“Just don’t do that again, prick. Can you just like—be serious with me, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, what is it?” You furrowed your eyebrows and your orbs then glistened with anticipation and willingness—the willingness of listening and discerning whatever she may share.

“I’m scared to confess to him so… I don't know if he'll like the traditional way of confessing secretly, like with a letter…”

“Maybe, yeah—I don’t know? Maybe unless you try—it’s up to you… I don’t care whatever you wanna do but that’s just my advice” You advised her yet she felt that yours weren’t so sincere as you feel guilty after saying that. She knew something was off so she needed to address it to you so it won’t bother her anymore.

“Is it though? You felt like you didn’t care about me after saying that…”

“What do you mean I don’t care? I care about you of course, even though you’re a nuisance sometimes and I hate it…”

You’re not even trying and Yunjin already connected the dots, finding the culprit of your resentful mood. 

“Ah—you’re jealous, hm? Yo, you’re so childish!”

“How the fuck am I even jealous about that? Gosh, see? That’s why I hate you so much!”

Of course, the last retaliation against her as a defense is total hypocrisy and it’s putting alcohol on  the wounds—it’s just going to get worse once you put more and it’s the involuntary culprit that exposes your hidden desire.

“Stop the cap—you’re jealous because I’m confessing to someone—”

“Okay, okay!! Maybe I am a little jealous but it doesn’t mean anything really serious…” You mutter an excuse again in hopes for Yunjin to believe it but you know she won’t.

You’re jealous about it and you know it yourself. You wanted her eyes to be on yours as always but people are a victim of change and you hate it. Being in the zone of just friendship is a hard pill to swallow yet a blessing in disguise—it’s painful and bitter yet it rewards you, the reward of complete assurance whenever she’s down as you have her all by yourself, in so many ways.

She felt your pain but it’s still not too late for your heart to go on a slumber—you capture her lips in a swift motion as she eagerly reciprocates, her eyes open as it catched her off-guard.

It was torrid as it escalated further, resulting in lustful exchanges of pecks and bites onto each others’ lips. You felt her need and thirst as in every second that passes, the experience just becomes enchanting and fruitful. The kiss was surely “platonic” but you can’t deny the plethora of romantic feelings you felt for her for years as you hope that feels it too. The kiss was untangled after a short while, exchanging breaths and small giggles as you can see her face blush from your sudden advances.

“I missed this.”

“I missed it too, Yunjin.”

Your noses meet as the atmosphere permeates hunger now, and not so long after, she captured your lips once again, getting addicted to your taste and giving in to her primal desires. It was just a total déjà vu from earlier—her eager reciprocation earlier was now replaced by you doing it as something adds to the spiciness; and it was dancing of both tongues craving on each other’s affection as it didn’t last that long too, Yunjin feeling uneasy because you were still in a public place.

“Feeling really hungry, hm?”

“You should have known better, Yunjin.” You whisper as she smiles as a response. She knows you well and knows what you could do to her yet something’s bothering her and it’s not you…

“We should actually take this somewhere privately.”

“You don’t want people watching us? Let them be envious?”

“Yah!” Yunjin lightly punches your shoulder then throws out a playful glare, feeling opposed to your proposition as she wanted all things just between the both of you only and no one else.

“Then lead the way, Yunjin…”

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

“If you weren’t so hard on me last night, you could have tasted or felt a load from me, Yunjin.”

“Well, I wasn’t really feeling the mood to get fucked yesterday because I wanted it now—”

“Where everybody could possibly see?”

“No—” Yunjin inches her face dangerously close to you as she squinted her eyes, proposing you onto something you always wanted. “—where everybody will be secluded to see your desired treasure, which is me.”

Yunjin ran down her fingers onto your chest, spiraling it as she emanated the heat of her palm onto your heart, making it rapidly beat faster. 

“So, Yunjin, is this where everything will end up?”

“Maybe—we’ve been friends for a long, long while now so you know where this will end.”

“All inside your mouth.”

“About time.”

It’s going near—going to start another filthy mess, you assume. Another wild thought bewildered you as your carnal desires are slowly taking over you and you’re fully embracing it. Once she knelt down on her knees and tugged your pants and started unbuckling your belt, you knew instantly what she’s craving and it’s within you. She was swift with her movements and in each clothing that was being undressed from you is the pervading heat of her hands and Yunjin herself. You relax yourself onto the tile wall on the restroom as you run your finger towards her hair, playing with it and encouraging her to get her deserved prize that she’s been longing for. Now with just your boxers on the way, she deftly tugged it as she was amazed with the growing erection that has been hiding under your clothed prison.

“Oooh, it’s not getting big~”

“Now do something about it, Yunjin.”

“Of course, I will.”

Within a single action, she has the last defense off as it springs to life, almost hitting her on the face. Your amassed precum ran down your slit as your length twitches in front of her, Yunjin herself getting excited and aroused just by seeing the perfection your cock has.

“God, look at it—” Yunjin’s eyes convey amazement and awe, worshiping your cock with just the words escaping her mouth. Her pupils dilate and you can see it as it scans every inch of your throbbing length. You moaned fervently once she palmed her hand onto the base of your shaft as the coldness of the wall you’re lying in contradicts to the heat of the moment she’s doing between your lengths. Your mouth is slightly ajar, your eyes closing from time to time because of the leisurely pleasurable handjob she’s been giving you and it’s only just the beginning.

“God, Yunjin—”

“Don’t worry, we’re still going to fuck like animals anytime we want, okay?”

“Yeah, but—oh fuck!” You exclaimed as the pillowy flesh envelops your entire length, the pleasure you’re experiencing is something nigh-close to an overdrive. Her lips are so plump, so soft that it feels heavenly whenever she embraces it around your mushroom tip. She lightly sucks the tip, and a playful run of her tongue onto your slit, causing your thighs to shiver in delight and to let out a series of moans that bless her ears. She delightfully collects the sudden precum that was leaking out of your slit as you moaned  because of her own work of art. The suction was too good to be true as it felt surreal and the way that she hollows her cheek everytime she goes deeper—taking in half of you—you just can’t help but moan and compliment her ways of pleasuring you.

“S-such a good girl—fuck, I w-won’t get tired of you sucking m-my dick all day…”

“Gahh—if it means a lot for you and a reward after it, then I don’t mind sucking you off any time you want.”

And goes back in and it’s getting sloppier the second she has her mouth around your throbbing length. She places both of her hands onto your thighs for leverage as your hands go onto the back of her head, forming a makeshift ponytail to hold yourself a leverage—to fight the omnipotent pleasure that’s taking over you. Her pace wildens, her head bobbing up and down furiously as it shows how deprived she is to taste you and to give you what you want. Saliva then seeps out of her mouth, messing up the base of your shaft onto your musky-scented balls that soon averted her attention afterwards, fondling them gently as the pace is still wild and fast, eager onto achieving your promised land. She was too focused about getting you all bricked-up and stunned to the point that she forget about intimacy and affection, so, capturing your eyes for a moment with her, she stared at you deeply while still maintaining the ferocious pace of her bobs and it was just an arousing yet an endearing experience.  

Her beautiful eyes really set your brain in a haywire as it’s the cherry on top within the service she’s doing between your legs. As much as her hair is disheveled, faint makeup getting ruined and her drooling messing up her pristine features, those orbs really send you under her spell and you love falling into it.

Such a pure face sullied with her own lustful actions as the beauty of it gets ruined yet it makes her go beyond it—she’s even more gorgeous with her messy countenance, moreso painting that beautiful face with your seed—

“God, slow down, Yujin—fuck—gahh, no one’s stealing me away from you—”

Yunjin ignores your plea as after a few bobs, she pulls herself out of your length and lets out ragged breaths, saliva strings and a pop as the cherry on top. “Scared because you can’t hold it in anymore? Also, y-you can’t blame me…”

“Hey! I can still hold it—fuck, shit, your mouth—too good—gah!”

Once she took your whole length in one, swift motion, you almost lost it there as the instant deepthroat made you weak. She started with a moderate pace yet it grew more frantic and sloppier as she’s now taking your whole length and it was a sight to behold. Within her wild pace is the endearing look of her, glistening, round black orbs and it just doesn’t help you—it’s just a scene to be cherished as you moan inevitably, forming a cacophony of music to her ears. 

“You’re damn lucky with the genetics you had—having such a big dick but can’t last that long? Bit ironic, in my opinion.”

“Hey! You freaking liar—I can last longer than what you expect.”

“Fuck—yeah, can you? I can already feel you throbbing like crazy—mmph!”

“Just shut up and do your job, Yunjin.”

Yunjin was always the kind to tease and degrade you a little between your steamy sessions—whether it’s just a simple handjob up to the nastiest, freakiest sex session known to mankind—she will retain her attitude of being annoying and energetic.

Having enough of her childish remarks, you plunge in your length immediately as she instantly gagged, the sounds resonating around the puny room the both of you are in. She immediately took this as an aggressive retaliation against her own degrading antics and she didn’t mind, but rather put gasoline into the flames—her face further fucking it roughly onto your whole length, only withdrawing with the tip inside and then slamming it back in, balls-deep inside her mouth as her nose gets buried down on your abdomen in every thrust she do.

Yunjin can do it like no other and that’s the beauty of it. She’s in her own class and in another league when it comes to servicing you and her trademark, giving head. There’s something about her blowjobs that makes you weak and as well as getting addicted to it right away—is it the fact about the way she dances her tongue around your length? Or is it about the tight suction of her mouth that keeps you dangling above but not over the limit of your threshold? Is it the way she looks at you endearingly while sucking the living life out of your cock? Maybe all of them are—permuted or combined, it doesn’t matter.

Eager to reach your breaking point, she ends up becoming the whole masterclass of craft—a sight to behold; an action worth rejoicing. It’s rejuvenating and stimulating, and your sensitivity keeps chasing the edges of the roof as everything seems to be a little too much but nothing is never enough. With the constant drive of her lips onto the base of your shaft up to the tip, she slides it down effortlessly before deepthroating you like she wants to prove something—she doesn’t need to because she earned it all too well. 

Between the frantic bobs; spilling of saliva; fondling of your balls and the captivating look of her eyes, you can’t help but feel that familiar tingle on your loins as it signals the near-coming of your orgasm. There wasn’t any talk that was happening as it was all just gags and slurps from Yunjin and just inevitable moans and groans on your side and soon, it will be too much to be contained.

“God, I’m s-so close, Yunjin. W-where do you want it?”

Yunjin didn’t pull out yet she didn’t ignore you—she gestured her hands, pointing it to her mouth as you knew what she wanted and that is to… cum inside her mouth (wasn’t it obvious?). Savoring the last seconds before your reaching your high, you held a vice grip on her hair as she fuck herself onto your cock faster than ever before and soon, it will be unshackled within any second now—

“God, I’m—fucking—cumming, Yunjin!”

You take control of her head, burying it down as her nose hugs your abdomen, forcing herself to smell the musky scent of your skin as you let everything out in her mouth. Your high was too euphoric as her heavenly mouth takes it all, painting her warm cavern—which is her throat—full of your seed. With the copious volume of your load, she’s unable to take it all as her gag reflex kicked in, forcing herself to pull out of your throbbing length as last shots of semen landed on her lips and some messing up her chin.

“Gahh—w-wow… You c-came a lot~ and it’s s-so—gahh—delicious too—mwah!”

She brushed her fingers onto the semen that splattered out of her chin and mouth as tasted it, humming soundly as she was satisfied with the richness and volume of your creamy load. Within two gulps, your seed was all gone, right into her stomach as she stuck out her tongue for further proof and you could only respond with a smile and ragged breaths.

“You’re—you’re a crazy girl, Yunjin… I can’t believe you really b-blew me off here.”

“Neither of us can help it, so fulfilling each other’s needs was just the endgame.” 

She was audacious and needy, it’s all said in her eyes right from the start. She wasn’t really the type that takes risks but with her own judgment, fulfillment comes first and it was destined to be that way—and you’re happy it ended up that way.

Against all odds, she was willing to give you everything you need and so do you, but sometimes, it’s getting all too much.

“God, Yunjin—fuck, I’m still fucking sensitive!!”

“Kinda rude not to deposit another load, look—” Yunjin cupped your balls for a good measure between her dawdling strokes, causing you to groan in pain and pleasure. “—it’s still goddamn full.”

She pecks on your swollen head as her tongue dances around the veins of your throbbing shaft, “I’ll suck you off until these balls are drained enough for me to stop—you won’t stop me, right?”

You didn’t respond as you were getting to the point of being overstimulated, needy moans and small whimpers coming out of your mouth makes it so that Yunjin would even push you further than what you can take.

“Righ—fuck, Yunjin! Your mouth—fuck!”

She’s on her masterclass again—her merciless fucking of her mouth against your cock and the vice grip of your thighs—and it’s just getting out of hand. You let out gasps and needy cries as her pace conducts the definition of sloppy and needy and god, it’s such a beautiful sight seeing her face getting all messed-up again with her own frantic actions. 

It was just the same plethora of moans, resonating gags, messed-up saliva and the harsh grips yet it’s still as hot as ever. You inevitably thrust a little, aiding to help your needs and her wants as she didn’t complain, but rather focused herself onto the actions she’s best at than blabbering out useless words that won’t help any one of you. With the growing libido and rejuvenated pleasure, your sensitivity is starting to come off faster than expected yet it was inevitably there, and you like it. 

Just with the tongue teasing the frenulum is enough for your whole system to break down into pieces, what more if such high-class service was being served by the one and only Huh Yunjin—it’s going to be better than any buffet you’ve been to or anything you could think of.

You’re just into a state of bliss, a connection partaking in the class of a heavenly masterclass—a fervent paramount that you’re always thankful for whenever it’s in your hand’s reach.

The dexterity of her fingers never fails to amaze you as every stroke just makes everything better even though it’s already at the maximum extent. With the way her mouth glides up and down with ease, you can’t help but feel the utmost pleasure as every technique she does was just amazing—maybe even finding her series of serrated enamel fueling your masochistic needs.

“God—you can’t really help y-yourself too, huh?”

Yunjin took seconds to respond as she pulled out of your messy length, with strings of saliva connecting from her mouth to your tip as you were met by her sullied countenance. “You know I can’t resist you, even if it means to just drain your balls with my mouth.”

And she returned to the league of her own profanities and carnal needs as her mouth effortlessly took your whole length, giving you the best blowjob of your whole life. Whenever she withdraws from your cock, she plants torrid kisses onto your slit and your tip as you let out shallow breaths, an offspring from the pleasure you’ve experiencing. With this pace that Yunjin is maintaining, another inevitable approach is soon to be met, you unable to do anything and her embracing everything.

“Yunjin—I’m g-gonna cum again—please let me cum a-again in your mouth—fuck—please!”

With your begs and the profounded proposition, she immediately ejected herself onto your raging member, leaving it throbbing and helpless.

“Why don’t you just add to the mess I’ve made? It’s a bit rude now painting my face before ending this moment—so come on, cum on my face, paint every inch of me white with your hot, creamy load—please! I’m dying to feel your cum on my face—”

Between her dirty talk is the feverish and frantic strokes of her beautiful hands on your shaft and with that, you opted to paint her instead of giving her another throatpie. 

Another pulchritude of a woman’s visage is bound to be sullied, and you can’t wait to add to the disheveled mess she already made herself into.

You can’t hold it anymore as for the last time (not really), shots and shots of thick, warm semen landed onto her beautiful face, nose, her glossy lips and some onto her neck and collarbones. The load was still rich and creamy, but it was not that copious compared to the earlier load you gave her balls-deep down her throat but neither of you complained, but rather, be thankful because of another gift.

“Gahh—ahh, that was amazing… So creamy still—how can you still blow a big load when you already like—blasted everything earlier?”

“You stimulated me too much, idiot, that’s why…”

She traces samples of your cum and goes onto her mouth, moaning delightfully as she was satisfied again with your delicious seed.

“And you loved it, of course~”

“Of course, Yunjin—aren’t those two, thick loads aren’t enough to put on a conclusion?”

“Of course it is, but we’re not done…”

“Yeah, you slut—let’s just go home because I’m fucking tired already thanks to you.”

“No worries, it’s my pleasure, hehe~”

You helped her clean up with your tissues and god, the both of you are probably just starting but it’s such an incredible end to an amazing oral session...

[deqdwinter]

✩⠀˚ ‘like a tattoo’⠀˚⠀ ˛ ♡ ୨୧

pairing: toji fushiguro x chubby!afab reader

summary: toji just loves your spine tattoo...

authors note: i really just threw this shit tg so sorry if this isn't my best work erm tehe :3

Toji Fushiguro had poisoned your mind. 

Since the day you met, the thought of him had intoxicated your blood, running through your veins like venom. He spread through your body like an incurable disease and it sickened you to the bone. 

Which was why your boyfriend chuckled at the whines that were leaving your lips as he pounded you from behind. Skin slapping skin had echoed in your ears, your body felt like it was on fire, but in a… good.. way? You couldn’t exactly think straight with the large man behind you who was fucking you like a fleshlight. 

“fffuhh-CK! T-Toji!” You whined into the pillow as you gripped onto the bed sheets as if your life depended on it. In which you’re being completely honest, it felt like you were being split in two.

“mhmm–Fuuuckk! This pussy s’all mine, huh baby?” He smirked down at your trembling body, his hands gripping the plush of your waist as he pulled you against him as your ass clapped against his pelvis. 

His cock dragged against your walls deliciously, the feeling of his veins rubbing against your insides had you seeing white as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You could feel his tip hitting the entrance of your womb with every thrust, the squelch of your cunt only egging him closer to his climax.

“T-Tuh--Jiii!” You mewled into the sheets as you grabbed one of the pillows that was splayed on the bed, holding it close to your face as you moaned sweetly into it. 

“Such a fuckin’ minx…” He purred as his eyes, along with his hand, trailed down your back, your spine tattoo melting down your back into a beautiful piece. 

Your back arched against his fingers that trickled down your spine, fucking back against him as his pace had slowed down from the animalistic one he had set prior. 

“M’gunna–cum-” Your words slur as you tighten your grip around the pillow in your arms, missing the sly grin that painted your boyfriend's face as he pulled his ghosting hand away from your back and placed it back on your other hip. 

“Ya’ gonna’ cum mama?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice ran shivers down your inked spine as he pulled away to rest his forehead in between your lats. “Cum f’me baby, wanna see this pretty pussy make a mess.” He kissed the top of your spine and pulled away to stand upright, his eyes trailing to his cock pistoning in and out of your folds. “She’s a pretty one ain’t she?” He groaned as he pulled his cock out to see it glistening with your essence and your walls tightening around him. “Fuck I’m gonna cum..” He threw his head back with his eyes shut tight, pulling your plush body back into his as your ass clapped against his pelvis. 

“M’cumming!” You squeal as the knot in your lower stomach snapped as you came, your climax rippling through your body as you released on Toji’s cock, your juices dripping down his length as he continued his brutal pace. 

“F-Fuck- s’so pretty–ugh– aren’t ya’ b-baby?” he stuttered with his words with his jaw clenched, tightening his hold on your hips as your chubby legs began to shake from overstimulation. 

“C-Cum inside me, Ji’. Please–” You whined as he pulled the lower half of your body impossibly closer, your back arching even more as loud squeals began to leave your plush lips at the feeling of his tip poking the entrance of your womb with every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck–!” He cut himself off as he released his seed into your cunt, pulling you flush against him as his cum painted your insides white. “Fuckin’ hell…” He moaned lowly, his cock softening  in your cunt as heavy pants left both of your lips. 

You flopped onto the bed as Toji pulled out of you. You felt his cum drip out of you as a chuckle left his scarred lips, “That was only our 4th round, drama queen.”

“Felt like the 45th.” You groaned into the sheets as your muscles ached with every move you made. “N’my back hurts…”

“I jus’ like your tattoo I guess.” Toji snickered as you slapped his chest lightly. 

“Fuck you. Asshole..” You mumbled lowly before you felt his arms on either side of you, his large body hovering over yours as you felt him lean down and whisper…

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, mama.”

taglist: @sorrowsblogworld (new taglist form will be up soon :3)

[daycourtofficial]

Hello. If you dont mind i have a request for azriel where maybe reader has just given birth and has lately been feeling very insecure about her body and azriel comforts her...with lots of fluff

A New Warmth

Sorry about how long this took anon, but I hope the wait was worth it!

-

You watch the baby nestled in the crook of your arms, mirroring her deep breaths to keep yourself calm. She was so soft, so sweet, and whenever she reached for you, it made your heart melt. She was everything you and Azriel had hoped for - healthy, chubby, and sweet as can be. She even had the cutest little wings that twitched in her sleep.

The problem with having an Illyrian baby is you develop an Illyrian’s appetite while pregnant with them, along with the other stretching and tearing your body has gone through to accommodate her.

She was two weeks old at this point, and you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Your body created this - a perfect mirror of you and your mate. But you couldn’t help the negative thoughts fluttering through your mind as your hand rested on your stomach, knowing the fresh stretch marks that lay underneath. You gained a good deal of weight during the pregnancy, your labor only removing about a dozen of those pounds.

As if sensing your spiraling thoughts, your mate walks in the door of your shared bedroom, his eyes alight with love and adoration at seeing his two girls.

“My loves,” he greets the both of you, setting the mugs of tea he had brought down, lifting the blanket to lat next to you. His presence under the blanket providing a new layer of warmth- not just physical, but the warmth of the three of you being together.

You lean your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm behind you, slowly to not disturb the baby in your arms. “Will I ever get my body back?” You mumble into his shoulder. His fingers start caressing your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into it.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you will.” You want to snap your head up, tell him that’s no way to console someone who had just pushed out his baby out of a tiny opening in their body when he uses his hand to hold your head in place.

“We will never be the same. We cannot go back.” He looks down at the baby in your arms, “maybe one day you’ll have more autonomy again - you won’t have a baby latched to your breast every other hour.”

His hand snakes down to rest on top of the hand you’re using to cradle the baby. “But she’ll always be a part of you.” The baby starts stirring, moving her tiny hands, and he reaches out a finger, which she quickly wraps her delicate fingers around. You both watch the scarred flesh in the pristine grasp of your innocent babe, no idea of an outside world that could cause harm. All she knows is the sanctuary of your home.

You look at Azriel with tears in your eyes, feeling incredibly silly over being upset at stretch marks. But as if he can read your mind, he tells you, “you have constantly given me what I thought I’d never have. You loved me, you gave me a true home, you gave me a mate, and now?” He laughs, flexing his finger in her grasp. “You’ve expanded our family. You gorgeous thing, you.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “Your love knows no bounds, and I am eternally grateful for you.”

You start crying, post partem hormones taking control of you. “It’s so shallow,” you laugh as a tear falls, “I just was so upset over how weird my body feels. The pregnancy glow is gone so now I just feel heavy and weird in my own skin.”

He uses the hand not gripped by your baby to grab your chin and tilt it towards him. “I couldn’t look at my hands for a long time, after they had done it.”

Azriel always has a way of leaving you speechless, telling you another facet of himself he never had before.

“I could barely look at them before I met you. But you called them beautiful, this part of me I hated so much.” He looks into your eyes, the bond between you two humming in joy and adoration. “It’s okay if you don’t like how you look right now, I will find you beautiful enough for the both of us.”

[rosemaeridream]

Blood Orange Bitch | (M)

Mature content (18+)

not-so-vanilla!aeri x killer!fem reader

warnings: knifeplay, blood, knives, maiming? or is it just injuring, dom!reader, bdsm elements - see: KNIFEPLAY. reader murders people off screen and terrorises aeri on it, established relationship, kink discovery, blood... eating... idk what else to warn y’all about… oh right THERE ARE KNIVES.

A/N: sorry this took so long, i’m not usually into knives. also sorry that i’m only capable of writing about aeri at the moment i promise to get onto my other girlies

word count: 2.4k

At first she just thinks it’s your muscles, y’know? You’re both gym rats, and it’s not like she’s switched gyms and started working out in the morning just to salivate over the contour of your biceps while you use the LAT machine or sneak glances at your thighs straining to hit your 18th rep during your last set on the leg press. Definitely not. And it’s definitely not like she loves it when you come home, sweat beading off your chest and dripping down over your sports bra. It just makes her kinda horny. Sue her for being attracted to her own girlfriend.

So she just thinks she’s into fitness. On herself and on other people too. Maybe she just wants to be manhandled by someone for once. Picked up and thrown on a bed or held down or something. She hadn’t figured out the specifics yet and she wasn’t about to tell you without making sure that that was what she wanted.

Then she sees you covered in blood. It puts a slight strain on your relationship. At first she thinks it’s your own, almost sprinting out of her room to go check up on you. But she hesitates. You’re not in pain, not screaming or crying. Just walking back into the house, wiping blood off your brow so it doesn’t drip into your eyes. 

You make it to the hallway leading to the bedrooms before you make eye contact with her. Aeri’s eyes widen ever so much and her breathing picks up. She’s nervous. It’s obvious to you, of course. You have a sense for people when they’re frightened. 

Except you’re wrong. Aeri’s trying to figure out something to say, but the throbbing of her clit is not helping her think. Not a bit. 

And fuck. The metallic smell of blood tickling her nose and the hardening of your eyes sends tingles fizzing up the back of her spine and straight to her head. 

You probably think she’s woozy at the sight of blood, maybe at the knowledge that you have someone else’s blood on you. But Aeri doesn’t think about it too long because her door is slammed shut before you can even open your mouth. She buries herself in her sheets so she can get the thought of your bloodied hands leaving stains across her stomach and thighs.

Aeri avoids you for a week after. It’s funny, because she’s sure you think it’s because she’s scared of you. Of what the blood means. Who’s blood is it? What did you do?

Definitely not because she’s scared of herself. Of what being horny over blood means. Of having dreams where you dance a knife across her skin, every breath of hers stilted so it doesn’t make an incision and then wake up with a dampness between her legs. 

She’s curious at heart, so she puts her figurative detective hat on and starts to sift through article after article in the news. At first, she thinks she’s crazy. Maybe she was imagining the blood, the hardened look you sent her before she slammed the door closed. But then it all unfurls like a moth eaten blanket. 

Aeri almost takes it to the police. It’s her duty, right?  But then ever so slowly, she comes around to the idea.

It’s dumb, right? You’ve killed at least three people going by the connections in the smallest details. But it’s not like they were gold star, moral-to-a-fault people. She’s sure you weren’t overly cruel to them in death either. Maybe just a little maiming and scratching and trailing a sharpened blade across some squirming skin to cut long incisions in their chest and stomach, the coolness of the blade mixing with the heat of the pain. So Aeri pretends like it's normal. Like she’s not staring at the kitchen knives every time she passes by, imagining you holding it to her throat. Everything is normal. The relationship is normal, the sex is normal, she’s normal. Vanilla.

She forces it to be normal, until she’s naturally slotted back between your legs as you watch a movie. Or watching you cook in the kitchen while she scrolls through her phone. 

Aeri’s seen you with knives before. Aeri’s seen your muscles before. She’s seen you use your muscles and knives to cook before. So why is the thought of the knife marking your initials into her thigh or her stomach or her chest the only thing on her mind? You’re talking away like it’s nothing and she’s trying so hard not to leave a wet spot on the kitchen stool she’s sitting on. 

“Anyway, so he’s like ‘ahh you can’t fucking catch me, psycho!’, and then he falls into a pit. Great scene by the way, especially when…” She should be listening. Except that you’re naturally swinging the knife around as you talk, gesturing with it like you would a pen. And God, she can’t take her eyes off it.

You’re talking about some slasher flick you saw with your friend the other day, it’s ironic considering that she still hasn’t spoken to you about the whole blood-murderer-knife thing. And the other knife thing. Besides the point – the horror movie talk isn’t helping either.

Aeri keeps nodding and humming a yes whenever you pause, just to keep you talking. Until she hears nothing and you’re not on the other side of the bench anymore. 

Fuck.

You press her to the counter, the blunt edge of the kitchen knife cold against her throat.

“You haven’t been listening to me at all, baby.” Your voice is as cold as the steel and you lean in close to her face, making sure that she’s all ears. Aeri shakes her head as much as she can with a knife to her throat, still not registering that you haven’t got the sharp side on her skin.

“Fear and arousal can be very, very similar. Don't cha think?”

Aeri stammers out some kind of answer that she doesn’t even process, her breathing accelerating along with her heartbeat. It’s too real and not real enough at the same time. The menacing narrow of your eyes taking their time to study every single detail of her face before dipping lower to focus on the pressure of the knife.

Just the tiniest amount of force is applied and Aeri slips, letting out a moan she can’t take back. She watches your lips quirk, the knowledge reaped from her expressions and noises letting you in on a secret she didn’t want you to know.

“Are you scared, Aeri?” Slowly, the blade is flipped, taunting her. The sharpened edge, one she watched you prepare with a whetstone, making sure it was fit to glide through any piece of meat possible, tickling the peach fuzz of her neck. 

She doesn’t shake her head this time, knowing that even if she swallowed, there’d be a trail of blood to show. Aeri’s breath hitches as you start to apply equal pressure along the blade, until you move it to drag down her neck, much like a whetstone.

You haven’t nicked her skin yet and Aeri knows you’re doing it on purpose. She’s being treated like a trophy kill, played with like a cat leaving a dead rat at the door and the only thing her brain is telling her, is that she wouldn’t mind being mounted against a wall by you.

The knife trails lower, stopping at the collar of her top, drawing out whimpers and half-hushed gasps. Then you roughly gather the cotton in your hands, holding it taught so you can pass the blade through the fabric, slicing it down til it hangs loose and exposes her bra to you. Aeri watches you move the blade until it's pointed right at her sternum, the tip sharp enough for her skin to bead blood.

“Did you know that you live for about 10 minutes after being stabbed in the heart?” Your eyes flash with sadistic pleasure as Aeri flinches against the pain. “If it’s done right, the heart should stop beating immediately and poor little Aeri is left with no oxygen to her brain.”

Aeri should be scared. She should be trying to dial emergency services with the phone clutched in her hand. She should be doing anything other than getting her panties wet. Now that the knife has left her throat she can swallow and breathe (and moan) to her heart's content, awarding you with a pink flush to her cheeks and chest, which you notice immediately.

“You’re not scared. Are you, baby?” The tip digs deeper into her skin, blood beginning to drip on her bra and stain her tattered top. Your tone is rough and it makes her step back, the bench hurting her lower back more than the knife against her chest.

“Are you?”

“No.” She whimpers, her chest rising and falling rapidly, every movement shifting the knife and deepening the cut. The bite of the blade forces another gasp from her as she tries to shift away and her phone drops from her hand, hitting the floor with a clatter. You duck down to study her incision, your breath fogging up the steel before you pull back and flick it upwards, the bloodied tip now parallel to her mouth. “Lick it.”

The blade drips with blood, sliding down the side until it gets to the hilt and seeps over your thumb. The sight makes her skin crawl. That’s her blood. Aeri’s blood. 

“You’re staring at it like you want it.” You taunt, angling the blade forward until it hovers over her lips. She swallows, averting her gaze like she wasn’t just entranced by the scarlet of her own blood.

“Don’t you want it, Aeri? Have a taste of yourself. I promise it's sweeter than it looks.”

Aeri’s weaker and much more pliable than she thought. She doesn’t even think twice once she opens her mouth to lap the knife. You turn it so she can only lick the flat of the blade — at least you’re gracious enough to let her have that. Your eyes meet as your breath matches hers, laboured and long.

The taste is sweeter than she thought. It’s not comparable to jam or ketchup with too much bitterness and tang but it wasn’t gut-retching. Maybe you were right.

“Such an obedient girl.” You purr after she licks the knife clean. A moan escapes Aeri as you reach for her chin, holding it in between your index and your thumb, making sure she can’t turn away.

“You know, I thought you were nothing special in bed. Just a plain vanilla bitch.” Aeri squirms under your gaze, bracing her hands against the countertop. The flat of the knife pats her cheek as you chuckle to yourself.

“God, I was so fucking wrong. You’re a freak!”

She whimpers, shaking her head a little now that the knife isn’t pointed towards her. Frankly, she doesn’t know why she’s denying it, she’s dripping and panting and too close to cumming it’s embarrassing. 

“I’m no-”

Her words are cut off by your already harsh grip on her chin getting tighter. 

“You are. You’re anything but vanilla.” 

There’s a sick pleasure in your eyes. For a moment she plays with the idea that if this keeps up, you might stop your ‘late night habits’ – or maybe it’s a poorly concealed attempt to hide that she wants more of this. So much more.

You snap her chin towards the knife, letting the blade turn til her cheek has a thin line of blood blooming and slowly gathering to trail down to her jaw. It isn’t deep enough to leave a mark, the equivalent of a papercut but when you press the flat of the knife back to her cheek, it feels like it burns.

Tears prick Aeri’s eyes as she fails to stop you once more. It’s getting to her, the pain, the humiliation. She can’t stop you and she can’t stop the aching of her cunt. If she knew you’d let her, she’d shove her hands down her pants right then and there, getting off on the faint marks you’ve already bestowed upon her. 

“Up.” You tap the counter with your free hand. Aeri pushes herself up without a word. She knows you can slaughter her without the blink of an eye. She’s done her research, figured out where you go at night, why the smell of bleach lingers around you. She knows what you can do with that knife.

But seriously, at this point she doesn’t care. You’re already treating her like prey – why can’t she enjoy it too?

“You’re not much of a killer.” At first, her voice tremors, then somehow she pulls the audacity out of her ass to taunt you back even when she’s dripping blood from two separate locations. “You can’t even hurt me properly.”

Aeri can tell that she’s pissed you off and it’s exhilarating. The knife dips back to the valley of her breasts, following its journey down to the centre of her bra. 

“You’re lucky I don’t want to blunt my knife on the underwire.” You murmur before letting gravity take control, guiding the blade plunging down until it stops a millimetre from her thigh. Aeri can’t stop herself from tensing, ready for the pain. When it doesn’t come, she practically whines in frustration.

You’re such a tease. 

“Not vanilla. Maybe… chocolate?” Your head tilts to the side and Aeri has no clue what you’re planning.

Slowly, you let the blade touch her thigh, pushing up and under her skirt. Thank fuck for the skirt – as hot as it is for you to do this, Aeri doesn’t want her favourite clothes ruined. 

You chuckle when her leg twitches but Aeri barely notices, her head is already buzzing from anticipating your moves – the cut on her cheek stings, keeping her from completely giving into you. 

She’s paying way too much attention to the pain and not enough on your actions because suddenly there’s a sharp pinch to her clit and the flaring slice of steel against her thigh. Aeri has to grab onto your neck just to stay upright, her mouth parted and eyes closing as she begins to pant. 

The blade scratches into her thigh and her nails scratch the back of your neck. Not exactly 1:1 but close enough for Aeri to get a kick out of it. Besides, the fingers sliding through her folds and stimulating her clit is enough to make the pain turn into pleasure. 

It’s like a cutie mark, she notes. Except the lines slowly carve out to be your initials and Aeri practically comes at the feeling. She shudders, moaning wantonly – the knife isn’t deep enough to scar permanently, it’s not deep enough.

“Maybe not chocolate. Too common. Orange chocolate, maybe.” She can barely even hear your voice through her heavy breathing.

Aeri wails when she feels you mark two little dots to the initials her skin, effectively marking her as yours while her orgasm slams into her like a truck on a highway. She’s so completely gone, your fingers tweaking her clit and barrelling her into a second, weaker orgasm. 

“A Blood Orange Bitch.” You coo as her hips stutter, grinding into your hand. 

It’s too much and the last thing Aeri sees is your pink tongue licking up her blood that’s splattered on your fingers.

NOTE: almost wrote about gi being fucked with the knife’s handle but idk maybe that’s too freaky, even for me, also! might edit this later idk if it's up to my standard :P

i edited a little 🧍‍♀️ accidentally posted a version with a sentence NOT COMPLETED

[winchesterwild78]

The Tutor

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too bad yet, just a chapter to establish the story. Some language and some physical grabbing.

**Trigger Warning: Some of this chapter could be considered Domestic Violence. It’s grabbing an arm, and being controlling.**

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names. 

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀

Minors DNI 18+

It was about 5 am when your alarm went off. You rolled over, grumbled and turned it off. Your husband was still sleeping next to you. Crawling out of bed you went to your bathroom and jumped in the shower. 

About 15 minutes later you were dressed and ready for work. You’d been a teacher for about 10 years, and you loved every second of it. Your husband encouraged you to expand your talent and offer tutoring in the afternoons as a way to help save money for the summer months when you didn’t get paid. 

You talked to the principal of your school and she told you she’d put out feelers to see if anyone had a lead on a possible need for a tutor. 

Grabbing your coffee, lunch and bag you headed for your car. It was a chilly morning, but you welcomed the change in temperature. As you pulled in the parking lot to the school, you noticed you were one of the first ones there. 

You sighed, gathered your things and got out of your car. As you walked in the building you saw the principal was in her office already. “Hey, Y/N, hold on a second.” You walked to her office door and waited for her to get off the phone.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I caught you. So I talked to a friend of mine and she said she knows a couple who is looking for a tutor for their children. They have 3 kids, an older daughter, and a set of twins, a boy and a girl. The mother is out of town, but the father wanted to come in and see you in action and then sit down with you. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Is he coming in today?” “Yes, if you were okay with it he wanted to come in today. If they decided to go with you, they’d want you to start ASAP.”

“Um, okay. Yeah. That’s fine. Hopefully it doesn’t distract my kiddos, but sure. Tell him to come by whenever.” “Great! I’ll give him a call.” You nodded and walked to your classroom.

Before the kids arrived, you sent your husband a text.

You: Hey, I might have a potential tutoring gig. Ms Smith is having a dad come in today. He and his wife wanted to see me in action. I’d be tutoring their three kids. I’ll let you know how it goes. I love you, babe.

Hubby: That’s great, you sure three kids won’t be too much? I love you too.

You: 3 kids? I teach 22 kids all day. I think I can handle 3.

Hubby: Yeah, you’re right. 

You finished getting things ready for the day as the kids started to arrive. “Good morning Ms Y/L/N!” The kids greeted you as they came into the room. “Good morning everyone.” 

Once the students got settled you called them to sit on the carpet to talk about today and how there might be a visitor. They were excited. You taught 5 & 6 year olds, so anytime there was a visitor it was always a big deal. 

“Now I want you all to be on your best behavior, and if we have a visitor I want you to do your best to ignore them, okay?” The kids nodded in agreement. 

A few hours later you were reading a book to your students when you heard your classroom door open. Glancing over you saw the principal and a man walk in. You kept teaching, not paying attention to the people in the room. 

When you read books, you are very animated. The kids would giggle and were completely engaged. At the end of your story you asked questions and called on some students to answer. A few minutes later you had them go back to their desks to complete the writing assignment you had given them. 

As you walked around checking their writing the principal approached you. “Ms Y/L/N, this is Mr Ackles. Mr Ackles, this is Ms. Y/L/N, our favorite Kindergarten teacher.” Your eyes went wide. Standing in your classroom was Jensen Ackles. His green eyes sparkling like emeralds under the fluorescent lights, his sandy brown hair perfectly styled, and he smelled like heaven. 

He extended his hand to shake yours. “Hello Ms Y/L/N, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You took his hand in yours and your breath hitched. You knew who he was, you’d been a fan for years. “Nice to meet you too, Mr Ackles. I look forward to speaking with you more about the tutoring needs of your children.” 

He smiled and nodded. The two of you couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. You unconsciously bit your lip. The sound of a little voice pulled you two out of your trance. “Ms Y/L/N, is this right?” One of your students came up with her paper for you to check. “So what should this sentence start with?” Her bright eyes looking at you and then down at her paper, “Um, oh a capital.” You smiled and nodded.

She went back to her seat and fixed her paper. “Okay guys, remember to capitalize, and illustrate your writing. Don’t forget your setting and color.”

Your principal came up to you, “We are going to head out, I’ll give Mr. Ackles your number so you two can set up a meeting.” You nodded and thanked them, then they left.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you felt a warmth fill your body. Girl, get it together. He’s way out of your league, both of you are married, and you might be tutoring his children. This is just a celebrity crush. Keep it professional. 

The end of the day came quickly. You were cleaning up your classroom when you heard a knock on your classroom door. Looking up you saw Jensen. Your breath caught in your throat. “Excuse me Ms Y/L/N, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” “Oh no, I’m just cleaning up before heading home. How can I help you Mr Ackles?” 

“Well I really liked what I saw today. You were engaging and gentle but you can see your students know your expectations. I’d like to offer you the tutoring job if you’d like it.” “Oh, of course. May I meet your children before I officially start? This won’t work if the kids don’t like me.” 

Jensen smiled and nodded. “I’ll text you my address and you’re welcome to come by this afternoon.” “Sure, that would be great. I can’t wait to meet them and your wife.” You smiled. “Well, she’s out of town right now, so that will have to wait.” “Okay. If you need to wait for her, that's fine. I want her to be fine with me tutoring the kids too.” “Nope, this was something we’d talked about before she left, and she knew I was going to hire someone as soon as I could.”

“Okay, great. I’ll come by this afternoon then. I’ll see you later Mr Ackles.” “Jensen, please call me Jensen.” “Jensen, then. Feel free to call me Y/N.” He smiled and so did you. When he left you pulled out your phone to text your husband.

You: Hey, heading to meet the kids I might be tutoring. The dad asked me to come by this afternoon.

Hubby: Okay, I’ll see you at home later then. Love you

You: I love you too. 

You set your phone down and finished cleaning. A few minutes later your phone went off.

Unknown: Hey, Y/N. This is Jensen. My address is 123 E Main Street. Can’t wait for the kids to meet you.

You: Hey, Jensen. I can’t wait to meet them either. I’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Just finishing up here. 

Jensen: Great! See you then.

You finished what you were doing and grabbed your stuff heading out of the school. Driving to Jensen’s house you were nervous but excited. You’d tutored before, but never for a celebrity and definitely not for someone you had been crushing on for decades. 

Pulling down the long driveway you were in awe at the spacious home that stood before you. Putting your car in park, you grabbed your bag and got out. 

Before you could knock on the door it opened and Jensen greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/N, glad you could make it.” “Hello, Mr. Ackles, thank you for having me.” “Please, call me Jensen.” You nodded and smiled, “Okay, Jensen.” 

He welcomed you into his spacious home and led you to the living room. “Please have a seat, and I’ll get the kids down here. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, water?” “Um, sure, I’ll have water if you don’t mind.” “Sure thing. I’ll grab it and the kids.”

You sat on the couch as Jensen left the room. You heard him calling the kids and the sound of feet on the stairs. 

Jensen and the kids came back to the room. He handed you the water. “Thank you.” He nodded and smiled. “Kids, this is Ms Y/L/N, she’s going to be your tutor. Ms Y/L/N, this is my oldest, Annie, and the twins, Jessica and Jensen Jr., we call him Jr.” “Hi guys, it’s nice to finally meet you three.” “Hello Ms Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you too.” Jensen’s son walked over and sat next to you, “Are you married? Do you have any kids?” “Yes I am married, and no I don’t have any children yet. I’m a teacher so my students are like my kids right now.” 

The five of you sat in the living room talking and getting to know each other. After the kids got tired of talking and asking you questions, they left the room. Leaving you and Jensen alone. “So, Y/N, what do you think? Think you can handle them?” You smiled and nodded, “Yes. They seem really sweet, I’d be just fine with them.” 

“Well, all that’s left is to talk about schedule, pay, and the NDA. The NDA is to protect everyone involved. You’re more than welcome to contact an attorney to look it over.” You smiled and nodded. About 45 minutes later you and Jensen had talked about your schedule, the pay and he’d given you the NDA.

“So, Y/N, do you have any additional questions for me?” “Yes, when will your wife be back, I’d love to meet her too.” “She won’t be back for a few weeks, but you’ll get to meet her when she returns.” You nodded and stood, “Well, Jensen I better leave you to it. I need to get home anyway. I have some things to do for work.” “Of course, well thank you again for coming by this evening. Let me walk you out.” 

The two of you walked towards the door. “Thank you again, Y/N for agreeing to take this job. We’ve interviewed so many people and they couldn’t get past my status to focus on the kids.” “If I’m being honest Jensen, I’ve been a fan of yours for years, but I promise that will not interfere with my job.” Jensen stepped a little closer to you, and your heart beat faster, “I’m glad. I think this is going to work out for everyone.” A blush filled your cheeks and you bit your lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jensen. Please tell the kids goodbye.” He nodded as you stepped out of the house.

Getting into your car, you let out the breath you’d been holding. Driving home you couldn’t focus on anything but how gorgeous Jensen looked. Stop it girl! You work for him now. If you can’t stop these thoughts there is no way you’re going to be able to work for him. Your focus should be on his children. Both of you are married, and his wife is absolutely gorgeous. 

About a half hour later you were pulling in your driveway. Your husband was already home. Walking in the house you announced you were home, “Honey I’m home.” Your husband, Jeff, came around the corner and pulled you into a hug and a kiss. 

“How was the meeting with the family?” He asked as he pulled back. “It was great. The kids are so sweet. The wife is out of town and the dad is super nice too. There is a little problem. Well, not really a problem, but something I need to tell you.” “Okay, babe, is everything okay?” “Yeah, so the dad asked me to sign an NDA.” Your husband laughed, “Why is he a secret service agent or a celebrity?” You got a serious look on your face and your husband’s laughter died down. “What? Is he really?” “He and his wife are celebrities. It’s Jensen Ackles.”

Your husband pulled away and looked at you in surprise. He knew how much you liked Jensen and how much of a fan you’d been. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with you working for him.” You looked at him confused, “What? Why not?” “Oh I don’t know, maybe because you’ve had the hots for him for years.” 

“Jeff, come on, really? I have no interest in him. I love you and I’m married to you. This is a job to help bring in more income for us. Besides, the pay is incredible. I tried to negotiate because I felt it was too much, but he insisted. We’d make enough in two months to pay off our credit cards.” 

Your husband’s jaw tightened, “I don’t care. I forbid you to take this job!” “I’m sorry, what? You forbid me?!? What the hell is wrong with you?” He stepped closer to you, “You heard me. You can’t take the job.” You scoffed and walked away. Jeff grabbed your arm, “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” “Let me go Jeff!” You pulled your arm away and walked to your shared room, locking the door behind you.

You sat on your bed and cried. How could he act like this? You two had been married for years and never had you given him a reason to doubt your loyalty. He’d never grabbed you before and you would never let him do it again. 

You pulled out your phone and sent a text to your best friend.

You: Hey, can I come crash at your place for a bit. Jeff and I had a bad fight. I don’t want to be here right now.

Y/B/F: Absolutely. Are you okay? Do you need me and hubby to come over?

You: Yeah, I’m okay. No, I’ll be okay. I’ll call if I need you.

Y/B/F: Okay babes, see you soon.

You grabbed your suitcase and put some work clothes and casual clothes in it. You grabbed your toiletries and other things you needed. As you walked out into the living room Jeff was sitting on the couch. You could see he was still pissed. “Have you come to your senses, Y/N?” “Yes I have, I’m going to Y/B/F’s house until I figure things out. You will NEVER put your hands on me again!” 

He stood and your heart beat fast. As he walked closer to you, you could see the rage in his face. You had been with him for years and you had never seen him like this, you were scared. 

Jeff stepped closer to you, mere inches from your face, “That’s right, go run to her house and go be his whore.” You didn’t say anything. You grabbed your bags and left. 

Driving down the road the tears started to fall. How could he act like this over a simple job? Why was he so jealous over Jensen? Sure you liked him, but you would never act on those feelings.

Pulling into your friend’s driveway you saw her open the door before you got out of the car. She ran up to you and threw her arms around you. “Oh sweetie, what happened?” She saw your tear stained face. “I told him about the tutoring job I took and he lost it. Told me I couldn’t take it and then he grabbed my arm. When I told him I was leaving he told me to go be the dad’s whore. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” 

“Let’s get you inside, eat and I’ll open a bottle of wine. Then we can talk.” You nodded and grabbed your things. Her husband walked over and gave you a big hug, “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’m gonna head out so you girls can chat. Enjoy dinner.” He placed a kiss on your head before heading out the door. 

Y/F/N and you grabbed the food, and wine and sat down in the living room. “So why would he get so pissed about a tutoring job?” “Well the dad asked me to sign an NDA, he’s a celebrity. I guess Jeff thought I’d sleep with the dad or something. I just don’t understand.” “Oooh who is it?” “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Maybe I can ask if I can tell you, but I want to respect his privacy.” “I get it, but Jeff still shouldn’t have gotten pissed about it. Sounds like he’s got something to hide honestly.”

You hadn’t thought about that before, but now you couldn’t get it out of your head. Maybe he was the one cheating on you and was projecting. “Well even if he is, I don’t think I can go back to him. After he put his hands on me and the way he tried to intimidate me before I left. I can’t live with that fear.” “You are welcome to stay here as long as you want. We’ve got you girl, and don’t worry he won’t get near you here.”

*Time Jump 3 months*

“Okay guys, let’s get up and stretch for a bit. We’ve been working hard. Who wants to go outside and play for a bit?” You asked the kids after spending about an hour working with them at the kitchen table. The kids jumped up and ran outside, laughing and racing each other. You smiled as you started to clean up the table. 

Jensen walked into the kitchen and smiled, “Break time, I see.” “Yeah, they needed a break and so did I. Can I get you a coffee, Jensen?” Jensen walked over to the coffee pot, “No, let me get one for you. You’ve been busy educating my children. It’s the least I can do.” 

Jensen grabbed a coffee cup and filled it up, sliding it to you at the kitchen bar. You nodded and told him thank you. He filled one up and leaned against the counter. “So, how are they doing? Are you still okay with working with all three of them?” “Oh they are amazing children. You and your wife should be very proud of them. I adore them.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate that.” “So if you don’t mind me asking, when is Mrs. Ackles coming home? I know she’s been out of town on a trip for about a week.” “Oh, yeah she’s on a girls trip. I believe she will come back next week. Maybe she’ll be around more after she gets back.” You could see the pain in his eyes and it broke your heart. “Well I can’t wait to sit and chat with her. I enjoy talking to you, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy sitting and talking to her too.” 

There was a pregnant silence that fell between you two, you looked up and met his eyes. They had a softness to them and were full of kindness. You blushed and smiled. The silence was broken by the sounds of crying. Jensen and you jumped up and ran outside. His daughter, Jessica was sitting on the ground crying. You and Jensen ran over to her and saw her knee was bleeding. 

Jensen scooped her up and carried her in the house. He sat her on the counter and you stood next to her. “Shh, it’s okay baby girl. Your daddy is going to get the first aid kit.” You rubbed her back and wiped her tears. 

Jensen came back carrying the first aid box. You held Jessica’s hand as he cleaned up the wound. “So Jess, what do you want for dinner? I bet you can get your daddy to get you whatever you want.” “I want cheeseburgers and ice cream, she sniffled.” “Ooh that sounds yummy. Does your daddy make good burgers?” She smiled and nodded. 

“Okay baby girl, all done.” Jessica looked at Jensen, “It didn’t even hurt.” Her eyes were wide. You smiled and Jensen looked over at you and smiled. “Well I think Ms Y/N has the magic touch then.” “Yes she does. Ms Y/N, can you stay for dinner?” Jensen was shocked, “Oh honey, Ms. Y/N has to get home to her husband. She can’t stay for dinner.” 

“Well, Jessica, if it’s okay with your dad I’d love to stay for dinner.” “Yay! I’m gonna go tell Jr and Annie.” You helped her down and she took off. As you were helping Jensen clean up, he looked at you, “Thank you for keeping her calm, but you really don’t have to stay. I’m sure your husband is waiting for you.” 

You put your head down, trying to hold back the tears. Taking a deep breath, “No, he’s not. I really would like to stay if you’re okay with it.” “Yes, that would be great. Jess really wants you to stay.” “Okay, let me help you cook then.” “Oh no ma’am, you are our guest.” 

You smiled “Please, it’s the least I can do.” “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” “Nope, you’re not.” You laughed. “Okay, fine.” He chuckled.

Thirty minutes later you and Jensen were calling the kids in to wash up for dinner. Dinner was delicious and after dinner Jensen pulled out the ice cream. Jessica was excited, because they didn’t get ice cream often. “My wife would kill me if she knew I was giving them ice cream. They tend to get a little wild.” You both laughed. 

After ice cream, the kids went to the living room to watch tv while you helped Jensen clean up the kitchen. His phone rang as you two were cleaning. He sighed before he answered and walked out of the room. 

You kept cleaning and a few minutes later he came back in. “Sorry about that. It was my wife. She wanted to talk to the kids.” “Oh it’s not a problem. That’s sweet she calls when she’s away.” “Yeah, it is.” His jaw tightened a bit. 

The two of you reached for a bowl at the same time and your hands brushed against each other. A chill went through your body. You two looked at each other and you bit your lip, he swallowed hard. 

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand back. “It’s okay.” Jensen cleared his throat, “Well it’s getting late. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.” You took a deep breath, “No, we um, actually split up a little over 3 months ago.” Jensen placed his hand on yours, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That has to be hard.” “Yeah, it has been. Things just got really bad, so I left. I’ve been living with my best friend and her husband since.” 

“Well, if it gets too crazy there we have a guesthouse you’re welcome to stay in. I know the kids would love to have you around more.” You smiled, “That’s a generous offer, but I think I’m okay where I am right now. Besides, that’s a decision I think your wife should be included in.” “I understand, the offer stands though. She’d be fine with it. She’s always willing to help people.” “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

About an hour later the kids were in bed and you were getting ready to head home. “Well, thank you for dinner and a wonderful evening. I will see you on Monday.” Jensen stood to walk you to the door. His hand brushed lightly on the small of your back and a shiver went through you. “Good night, Jensen. Thank you again for dinner and the conversation.” “Good night, Y/N, and you’re welcome.” Jensen reached out and pulled you into a hug. You took a deep breath and breathed him in. God he smelt amazing, and he was so warm. 

When you two pulled away he lightly ran his thumb over your cheek. You instinctively leaned into his touch. Your breath hitched, “I should go.” You whispered. “Yeah, you probably should.” 

Jensen stepped closer, you bit your lip. His thumb ran over your chin, pulling your lip out of your teeth. Your breathing grew more rapid and your heart beat wildly. His lips were inches from yours, your breath mingling with his. He licked his lips and leaned even closer. You felt his lips ghosting over yours. “Jensen..” “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” You looked at him, your voice caught in your throat. “Y/N, do you want me to stop?” “No,” was all you said. 

Jensen’s lips crashed into yours. Soft but forceful and full of passion and need. Your mind swirling, your heart pounding as his tongue licked your lips asking for entrance. You parted your swollen lips and his tongue took dominance in your mouth. Jensen’s hands went into your hair and pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck. 

The kiss seemed to last for hours, the need for air causing your lungs to scream for oxygen, but in that moment Jensen was the only thing you needed to live. When the need for air became too much, you both pulled away, panting with swollen lips. 

You were blushing and Jensen was smiling. “I’ve been dying to do that for a really long time.” You smiled and bit your lip. His hand brushing against your cheek, “So beautiful”. You took a deep breath, “Good night Jensen.” He placed a soft peck on your lips before you walked out of the house. 

Driving home all you could think of was the kiss. You’d dreamed of kissing him for years, but he’s married. What did the kiss mean to him, to your job? Would he want to do it again, would you? Your mind was racing with thoughts of the kiss and how you could still feel his lips on yours. The sound of your phone pulling you out of your head.

Jensen: So I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I swear I didn’t plan that. 

You: You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I liked it. Honestly, a little too much. 

Jensen: I liked it too. I’d like to do it again if you want.

You: I like that more than you know, but you’re married and my boss. I’m not sure it’s a great idea.

What the hell are you doing!? Jensen Ackles is telling you he wants to kiss you again and you’re shooting him down. Ugh!

Jensen: I understand. Please don’t think this changes anything or affects your job. It doesn’t. You’re amazing with my kids and I wouldn’t want to mess that up.

You: Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. Good night, and I’ll see you Monday.

Jensen: Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams and see you Monday.

As you crawled into bed that night all you could think about was the kiss and how wonderful his hands felt on you. A small pang of guilt crept into your head when you thought about his wife. You still couldn’t believe you told him you didn’t think kissing him again would be a good idea. His lips were so soft and damn was he a good kisser. 

Could you really still work for him after this, or would the pull to kiss him become too much?

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[vlly-of-despair]

Ok but like, we need to talk about Alice and the ‘victim’… (spoilers for TMP)

I’ve been kicking around the theory for a little bit in my head now that the Magnus Institute program for gifted children is meant to find children who have an aptitude to act as conduits for the Fears via meditation practices that can transport their consciousness to the ‘Somewhere Else’, aka the layer of reality in which the Fears resign.

I made a past post about this, but for a summery: In the Magnus Archives, the Fears are described as gods from another realm, not necessarily from another universe, but rather in a different layer of reality we usually can’t see or comprehend, but can bleed into our world in the small weirdness of the statements we see throughout the narrative, and humans being able to harness gifts derived from the warped reality of these beings via becoming an Avatar. In the Magnus Protocol, people may channel the powers that may be from the layer of reality through becoming an ‘External’ or by an object, or environment. They categorize cases regarding the Somewhere Else as subjects being viabilities as subjects, agents, or catalysts (see ep 9 as an example of this cataloged on record).

Now, I personally believe whatever the Magnus Institute was cultivating, they wanted to specifically target areas of greater knowledge.

In TMA 127, John describes to Basira the ability to see into the minds of others as:

It’s like there’s a, a door, in my mind. A-a-and behind it is, is the entire ocean.

Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I – I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it… when I’m around p-people, or.. places, or.. ideas? A drop or two will push through the cracks at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something.

Now both Sam and Gerard both applied to the Magnus Institute program, but were not accepted. When we saw the ARG Mag Testing sheets from past children’s names, as well as the criteria they ranked the children on, many being less so on their intelligence, but on their empathy, obedience, and conformity. So my best guess is that they find the most obedient children of high intelligence, those who may be able to harbor great ‘knowing’ and ‘seeing’ about the intellectual comprehension of most people, and that are apathetic enough to endure the possible… casualties tapping into the Eldritch horrors may call upon. Then they train them to become figures similar to the Archivist, but to the degree in which they can ‘open the door in their minds’ completely. This didn’t go so well… like at all… taken by the fact that the ‘protocol’ was enacted and the whole institute burned to the ground. Did they open a rift to this dangerous world? Is the OIAR fighting against those who try to push too much of these Outer Gods into our material world? To ‘see’ too much?

Curiously, there is a child in the ARG spreadsheet listing the children involved with the ‘gifted kids program’ with the name Connor Dyer, the same lat name as Alice. Many people, including myself, think this IS Alice and her deadname, prior to transitioning.

So, Alice was involved with the program, and her denial of the fact and urging Sam to stop researching the institute raises some big red flags. Where am I going with this? Well, if we go back to MAGP 15: WELL RUN, we see the victim that approached Gwen being compelled to spill out her fear as she is ‘drowning’ on land, trying to grab Alice as she whispers about seeing an endless, dark sea. Alice’s reaction is sooo interesting to me. At first it seems normal, she sees a dying frantic woman, reacts in panic and calls the ambulance. However, once she sees the tape recorder, she becomes utterly terrified. She says, “ I’m sorry, I can’t-.” And runs.

Alice, what about the tape recorder specifically triggered you so much? Is it because perhaps you remember this scene? Using a tape recorder, as a child in the Magnus Institute program, to document your decent into that same vast ocean beyond our world? Is if because if suddenly clicked what this is, what has happened to this woman, that she was compelled? That her thoughts were spoken with far more clarity after death because her corpse is being puppeteer by a power which unlocks the minds and fears of others beyond their mind alone? Why are you working at the OIAR? And why did you invite perhaps the only other person you know who could have the abilities the Magnus Institute searched for in youth?…

[porchlightfairy]

Stone Cold

summary: You struggle to get on Wayne Munson’s good side.

content: Angst, breakup and makeup, Wayne is a little mean, Eddie doesn’t listen, heartbreak, apologies everywhere.

word count: 2.9k

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

You and Eddie were friends once, but you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. Everyone around you could see from a mile away that the two of you were more than that. You played with his hair and he would steal food off of your plate. You would take his rings off and put them on and sometimes he would stick his head under your shirt and blow raspberries on your stomach. Sometimes you would kiss his cheek and sometimes he would hold your face in his hands. That’s kind of when the friendship stopped and the relationship started. It was still fresh, and there were many wrinkles to iron out about it; one being Wayne Munson.

You were spending the night at Eddie’s and you needed to use the bathroom. You detangle yourself from the sheets and the sleeping log you recognized as Eddie. He whines at the sudden movement but a peck on the cheek puts him back at ease. You get dressed and head out of the room towards the bathroom.

You close the door and spin on your heels in the small hallway. You nearly jump out of your skin when you see Eddie’s uncle, Wayne standing in the hall. He’s got a sullen look on his face when he sees you. You smile nervously, “Sorry, Wayne, you scared me. I’m just heading to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t say a word and just grimaces before walking back to the living room. You furrow your brows at his reaction before continuing to the bathroom. When you get back into Eddie’s bed, you shake him gently. “Eddie? Eddie.”

He slowly opens his eyes, “Hm? What babe? What’s wrong?”

“Your uncle frowned at me.” You say, “Do you think he’s upset I’m here right now?” 

He shrugs, “It’s probably just his face. You’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it.” He wraps his arm around you pulling you into an embrace, “Just go back to bed.” 

“Okay.” You weren’t too sure but Eddie knew his uncle more than you. So you closed your eyes and fell back asleep.

The next morning, you wake up early and decide to do something nice and make coffee for Wayne before he leaves for work. You pour it into a mug once it’s finished and just as you do, Wayne comes out of his room. “Morning Wayne. I made you some coffee.” You hold out the mug to him.

He doesn’t react at first. You feel your heart sink and your hands begin to sweat. He purses his lips and looks at the mug. “That ain’t one of the drinking mugs.” Your eyes go wide and your smile fades. You had accidentally taken one of the display mugs hanging from the cabinets. You thought since they were in the kitchen they counted for actual use.

“I am so sorry, Wayne. I’ll clean it right now.” You quickly dump out the coffee and clean the mug. You hold it out to him again.

“Now you’ve wasted a fresh cup of joe.” He sighs, “I’ll just brew some at work.” He then leaves the trailer for the day. You set the mug down, completely embarrassed at the interaction. 

You dig your nails into the counter before putting the mug back and going back to Eddie’s room. As quietly as you can, you start to collect your things. However, you were not successful and Eddie begins to wake up. “What are you doing?” He mumbles.

“I’m just getting my stuff together.” You tuck your stuff in your bag and sit on the bed next to him. He rests his hand on your thigh and smiles up at you, “Why are you awake so early?”

You sigh, thinking back to just moments ago. “I was trying to impress your uncle by making a cup of coffee for him before work. But then I accidentally used a mug from his collection. And so I panicked and dumped the coffee out and then he frowned at me again.” Your shoulders go slack, “I don’t think he likes me much.”

Eddie laughs a little, and you slap his chest, “Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I just wish I was awake to see it happen.”

“Eddie!”

“I’m kidding! Look, I am sure, he was just cranky about having a late night and an early morning. He gets like that sometimes. Don’t worry about it too much, okay?.”

“Okay,” You lean down and kiss him. “I should still probably go. I’ve got work later.” 

He pouts, “Fine let me get dressed, and I’ll take my baby home.” He sits up and wraps you in a hug, peppering your face with kisses. Without even knowing it, Eddie was making you feel better. He makes you a cup of coffee from what remained in the pot and some toast with jam. He holds your hand and helps you into the van. You were sure he was going to help you put your seatbelt on too.

As he drives, your mind can’t help but wander to the old man. How upset he looked from the night before and in the morning. Could he really not like you? Eddie didn’t seem worried, so you shouldn’t be either. 

You arrive at your house and you walk over to his side of the car. He leans out of his window and you kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, “Come over tonight.”

“Again, Eddie, I was just at your house.” You giggle. 

“Well, I want to see you again. Come over and let’s watch a movie. We can watch one of your sappy romance ones.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

You smile widely, “Really? Okay then. Your uncle working late?”

“Like always. So stop worrying. I’m getting scared you’re thinking about him more than me.” He pouts. 

You squish his cheeks and kiss him again, “I promise, I’m not.” You absolutely were. That man had a stare that could see through lead. And he could stare into your soul. You just wished he could see that you were being authentic. That you loved Eddie and that you hoped to be together with him for a long time. You think about it all day and well into the night while watching a movie at Eddie’s trailer.

You rest against Eddie’s chest and watch the movie you chose. He’s fast asleep and you were on your way there too. Halfway through the movie, you hear the door open and you see Wayne come in. You give him a polite smile but it quickly fades. He lets out a heavy sigh before heading back to his room. You curl up a little and tuck your head under Eddie’s chin. “Is the movie over?” He mumbles, his eyes still closed. 

You hit the stop button and turn off the television, “Yeah, let’s head to bed.” You both make your way into his room. 

“Did Wayne come home?” He says as he changes into his pajamas. 

“Mhm.” You’re tight-lipped as you change.

He looks over at you, “Did he say anything?”

“Mm-mm” You shake your head.

He pulls you into a hug, “He probably had a long day and didn’t want to talk.” He kisses the top of your forehead. He then pulls you to his bed and holds you in his arms as he falls asleep. It takes you longer to close your eyes. Anxiety creeps up your back as you stay under the same roof as Wayne Munson.

The next day, Eddie gives you a ride to work and even offers you a ride home afterward. However, you decline and head inside. You worked at the general store downtown. All you did was take inventory and stock shelves while another woman, Loretta, worked the register. Easy job for easy pay.

You’re stocking cans behind a shelf when you see Wayne’s car park in front of the store. You slowly sink behind the shelf and hide and you hear the sound of the store bell chime.

“Hello hello, Wayne.” The ever-so-charming Loretta speaks, “what brings you in today?”

“Just grabbing some quick stuff. That boy is going to eat me out of house and home I tell you that.” He mutters. “Him and that little girlfriend of his.” Your heartbeat picks up. Quietly, you tuck your knees into your chest as you continue to listen.

“Oh yeah, how’s that going? He seems to be swooned by her.” Loretta says. You hear Wayne just in front of the shelf you were behind.

“Well she’s something, I guess.” He sighs, “never seems to want to leave my house.” For the past few days, that’s all she wanted to do. “Starting to get on my nerves, that's for sure.”

“Sounds like you don’t like her.” Loretta’s tone had shifted. She was no longer being nice, she was getting answers, for you.

“Well, honestly I don’t.” He scoffs. “She’s all in my kitchen, in my living room, in my bathroom. I can’t have anywhere in peace.”

Then peace is what he’ll get. Once he’s gone, you head to the storage room and call Eddie’s line to tell him you’ll be coming over later. You felt terrible at how methodical this all was. 

You drive over to Eddie’s house from your downtown apartment. Eddie throws open the door for you and takes you back to his room. “Okay, so today, I was thinking we could sit and listen to some new tapes I got from the store. And then maybe we head to the burger spot between Hawkins and Roane and then—”

“Eddie, I came here to talk to you.” Your voice is no louder than a whisper. 

He pulls you close, “We can talk all night.” He leans down for a kiss but you turn your face away, “What’s the matter?”

Your eyes begin to tear up as you pull from him, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You see Eddie’s face wilt, “Wh-what do you mean?”

“This relationship is just not going to work.” You avoid his sad gaze as you say those words.

“What do you mean? Did I do something wrong? Tell me if I did, so I can fix it?” His voice cracks as he speaks. He takes a step forward but you take a step back.

“It’s nothing you did, Eddie.”

“Then is this about Wayne?”

You purse your lips, “I just don’t think we can make it work.”

“No, we can, I'm sure we can. Let me talk to him, okay? Make sure he changes his attitude.” Eddie holds your arms. 

You push him away, “It’s not something that will go away so easily, Eddie. He doesn’t like me being around and I think it’s for the best if I wasn’t.”

“Why? We can figure this out.”

“There is nothing to figure out! He does not like me! He said it! He does not like me being in his house! And he is so willing to say it to other people and you are so willing to brush it off! God for days he’s been acting like this and you haven’t done anything, Eddie. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t. Not anymore! I can’t be here. I can’t be around you knowing that I am not welcome.”

“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t know he said that. I didn’t know—”

“And that’s what makes it worse, I care about you a lot. And I don’t want to force you to choose.”

“So you’re making the choice for me?!”

“No, I’m making my own choice.” You wipe a tear that streaked down your face, “Goodbye Eddie.”

You exit his room and head out of the trailer. Outside on the porch, you see Wayne standing there. He looks at you awkwardly and he opens his mouth to speak. But he is interrupted by Eddie stumbling out of the house after you. “Wait! Wait! Please, come back inside. Let’s talk about this.”

You get into your car and stare ahead as Eddie taps on the glass. You can’t look him in the eyes. You take a deep breath and start the car pulling into the road and out of the park, leaving Eddie in the dust. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── It’s been a week or so since you broke up with Eddie. You hadn’t seen him in a while since then. Not that you had been going out either. For you, it was home, then work, then back home again. You missed him so much. You missed spending time with him. The long phone calls at night, and the sleepovers. Waking up to his sleeping face and making him breakfast in your kitchen.

Your heart ached for Eddie during the day. You missed when he would come in and surprise you during work. Now your days feel monotonous. Stacking cans, taking inventory and working the register. 

You sit behind the register flipping through a comic when the door chime rings. You look up and to your surprise it was Wayne. You don’t say a word and look back into your comic. You assume he will move quietly through the aisles and go about his business.

You would be very incorrect. He comes over to the register and clears his throat. You peek over the comic again, “Need something?”

“Can we talk?” He asks, in all honesty, he looked worse for wear. 

“Is it about the stuff in the store?” You close the comic.

“Now you know it ain’t about that.” He frowns.

“Then there is nothing for us to talk about.” You pop open the comic again. 

He sighs, “I came here to apologize. Will you at least let me do that?”

“What is there to apologize for? I was eating you out of the house and home remember.”

He is taken aback by that statement. He lets out another sigh, “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just frustrated is all.”

“Frustrated that I was in your house?”

“No, I was frustrated with Eddie. And I took it out on you. That was wrong of me.” You put down the comic, ready to hear him out, “It’s like as soon as y’all got together, he forgot how he was raised. Letting you into the kitchen all by yourself that’s not how we treat guests. I was surprised you found the coffee grounds. And that day, in here, I greatly apologize. That damn boy can work a nerve when all he talks about is a girl he really, really likes.” You nod as you listen. “Now you don’t gotta forgive me so soon but Eddie misses you and he loves you to death. Don’t take it out on him.”

You purse your lips, “I’ll… I’ll think about it.” His eyes sadden a bit but he nods in understanding. He then leaves the store.

After work you head home, you think about everything Wayne says and it causes you to laugh. Eddie had annoyed Wayne so much he started to get annoyed by you too. Throughout the evening you eye your phone, debating whether or not to call. You chew on your bottom lip until finally picking up the phone.

You dial Eddie’s phone slowly and wait for the phone to ring. It rings a few times until you hear it get picked up. “Hello?” It was him. His voice was raspy and he must have been in bed.

“Eddie? It’s me. Can you talk right now?” You whisper. You didn’t need to but it felt like your normal voice would sound too harsh.

“Yes.” He lets out a breath, “Is everything okay?”

You smile at his worry, “I’m okay. Think you could come over? To talk face to face. I have a lot to tell you.”

“Yes! Yes. I’m on my way.” He tries to control his excitement, “I’ll be there in a bit.” You hang up and wait for him to arrive. Which isn’t that long a while later. He arrives with his hair damp and out of breath. 

“Did you shower before getting here?” You ask as you let him in

“Maybe?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Wayne came to the store today.”

“He didn’t bother you again did he?” He straightens up. 

You wave it away and shake your head, “No, no. He came by to apologize actually.” He relaxes again.

“That’s good.”

You nod, “He also told me you missed me.”

Eddie nods and shuffles his feet. “I do. But I respect your choice so I’ve been keeping my distance.

“Well, can I just say, I missed you too?” You take his arm and lead him to the couch to take a seat. He places his hand in yours and you rub your thumb over his knuckle, “I was so worried about impressing Wayne, I lost sight of us.”

“I did too. You were freaking out and instead of helping you I let it get worse.” He squeezes your hand gently. “That’s not how you take care of somebody you love.”

“It seems we were all in the wrong, huh?” You giggle.

“Some more than others.” He mumbles, “So does that mean we are okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile and press your lips against his. He makes a happy noise against your lips. “Could you believe this all started because you wouldn’t shut up about me?”

He shrugs, “I love you. I needed to tell somebody about it.”

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 12: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to LAT Images

Word count: 3,446

Written by raelee / Posted August 15

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“They can’t FaceTime for very long, they have a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow morning so they need to go to bed early tonight,” I warn Charles as soon as I accept the call.

“What’s going on, are they okay?” He instantly questions.

“They’re fine, it’s just a checkup. Girls, come say hi to your dad.”

Ada and Lucy run over at the mention of their father. It surprised me how quickly they’ve welcomed him into their lives and normalized him being in it. That’s definitely an advantage of him coming back while the girls are so young, they’re not aware of the entire situation so they don’t have any conflicting emotions about their father’s absence, they just know the love and admiration they feel for him and that he feels for them. And growing up, they won’t really have any memories from before he entered their lives.

“Hi dad,” Ada grins widely, showing off her growing teeth.

“Where are you?” Lucy inquires.

“I’m in Singapore right now,” he tells them. “I can see the ocean. Look, see the water?”

He flips his camera to show the view from his hotel room, palm trees lined up neatly before it cuts off at the sandy beach.

“Ocean,” Ada cheers.

“I’ll take you girls to see the ocean someday, I promise.”

They chat some more, Charles having to ask them what they’re saying a couple of times to fully understand, but then immediately responding with enthusiasm. He takes genuine interest in what they’re saying, even if it’s arguing over who found a bigger leaf at the park today. The way his hazel eyes gleam at the two toddlers through the screen says it all- he loves those girls with his entire heart.

The conversation wraps up after about twenty minutes, the tiredness becoming apparent in Ada and Lucy.

“I love you girls. I know I’m not the best at times, but I try my hardest to be there for you to support you through everything,” Charles’ words are said to Ada and Lucy, but I know they’re really directed at me.

He’s trying to apologize to me without actually apologizing to me. By explaining his actions without saying sorry for how they made me feel, it’s apparent that he feels bad for attempting to pressure me into moving but doesn’t feel bad enough, or maybe he just feels too scared to say the words ‘I’m sorry’ directly. Plus, it’s a little off-putting to give a message to me through our daughters.

“Mommy, I’m going to play with Barbie,” Lucy announces, taking off to her bedroom to play with the new doll Lando sent her.

“Me too,” Ada follows her to play with the similar Barbie that Lando sent her.

“What?” Charles questions as I give him an annoyed look through the screen.

“If you’re apologetic for your actions, just say it. Don’t do this round-a-bout thing where you tell the girls how hard you try to support them. They know that, although they can’t understand it yet, they can feel your love and support. By indirectly apologizing and not actually using those words, though, you’re not supporting them in emotional growth by showing that it’s okay to be apologetic and that it’s okay to show your emotions,” I inform him.

He blinks at me, clearly processing the speech that I just gave.

“Yeah,” he starts, “Yeah, you’re right. To be honest, I feel like I’m not there to help with the girls as much as I should be and then I feel guilty about it, so I thought the solution would be to move in together so that it would be easier. And I thought I was already compromising because we would be moving in together in London instead of in Monaco-””Monaco, Charles? You wanted us to move to Monaco?” I can’t help but interrupt him.

“I did, for a brief second, before I remembered that you have a support system and school in London,” he defends himself, “Anyways, I guess I also wanted you to move in to something more… up to my standards. But I should’ve asked you about it before making such a big decision by myself. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your apology and the explanation. Now that I’m aware of this, I’m sorry for not hearing you out on why you wanted to move in to a bigger apartment and for not recognizing your emotions sooner.”

“Thank you for your apology,” he says. It’s quiet, but his smile slowly grows.

“What? Why are you smiling?”

“You snapped at me,” a laugh accompanies his words.

“Did I? Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so hostile,” I frown, thinking back on my tone. “No, it’s great, it’s always nice to be reminded of where Lucy gets her fire from.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart flutters in my chest at his admiration.

As soon as I set my phone down on the coffee table after the call has ended, it starts to buzz. I peer at it curiously, wondering if the call is from Charles trying to contact me to tell me something that he forgot. It isn’t. It’s from my sister, Flo.

I watch as it buzzes and buzzes. I adore Flo- besides Lando, she’s been the only one to treat me semi-normally since having my daughters. She sends me requests for pictures of the girls every once in a while, she’ll call me to hear about their adventures of the week, and she’ll like all of my posts on social media, even just the stories.

But… I can’t help but feel some resentment towards her. Maybe it’s because she’s the one who encouraged me to attend the race, just to inform me that the whole family bailed, or because she never defended me in front of our family. I just can’t shake the negative feelings no matter how much I know that this situation that I’m in is not her fault. This has grown a very apparent distance in our relationship.

So I watch as her contact picture disappears from the screen, showing that I missed a call from her.

~

“And lights out, and away we go,” the announcer cheers as the race in Singapore begins.

My eyes flicker to Ada and Lucy who are sitting in front of the TV, dolls laying on the floor in front of them but their eyes are attached to the screen where the fast cars zoom past.

It’s so interesting to see their love for Formula 1 at such a young age. It’s subtle- they don’t pick out orange McClaren hats gifted from Lando or red Ferrari shirts from Charles to wear.

But they’ll put their Barbies in the miniature Alpine cars from Pierre. And they’ll perk up at the sound of the Formula 1 theme song.

“Daddy,” Lucy cheers, pointing as the camera focuses on the red car. Ada looks on in awe.

Truthfully, I can’t tell if it’s Charles or Carlos, it’s always been difficult for me to tell the difference between two drivers in the same car, but I nod.

“Yeah, there’s daddy,” I agree softly.

My heart starts to yearn at the sight of him, which I confirm it is once I see the number on the side of the car, even if he is covered in a helmet and a race suit. I quickly push the feeling down, trying my best to focus on the screen in front of me.

I can’t start feeling romantic feelings for Charles, we just started getting along again. Developing romantic feelings for him would complicate everything. With two toddlers in the picture, what they need right now is stability, not for their mom deciding to ‘go for it.’

So I take a deep breath, watching as the Singapore grand prix goes on and on.

~

“Let me take a picture to send to daddy, first,” I request of the girls.

They stare at me warily, melting ice cream cones in their hands.

“It’ll be real quick, I promise,” I reassure them. “Smile!”

They smile as I quickly snap the photo, digging into their ice cream messily as I set my phone down. After it buzzes for the third time, I pick it up curiously, knowing that it’s not just Charles responding to the photos because he already informed me that he would be doing media all day for Ferrari.

My eyebrows raise in shock when I see three missed texts from my brother, Oliver.

Oliver: Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while, wondering if you’d be up for a chat later.

Oliver: Flo just told me that she called you the other day and you didn’t answer or call her back. Is everything okay?

Oliver: Here if you need anything

I sigh at the texts. I thought Flo wouldn't really notice or care that I didn’t respond to her call, but she must have if she’s getting Oliver involved. I click on the bubble to text, watching as it blinks.

Truthfully, I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to commit to a phone call with Oliver because I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong. I always talk about what’s wrong- sometimes, I just want space to think about how valid my feelings are without having to talk about them and get them validated by other people.

And the issues with my family are a sensitive topic with Oliver, since he is involved in the situation.

“Uh oh,” Ada’s words snap my focus to her and I see chocolate ice cream dripping out of the cone and onto her tiny fingers.

“Here, let’s wipe it off,” I tell her, locking my phone and reaching in my bag for a wet wipe.

The texts remain forgotten and not responded to.

~

I think I like Charles Leclerc. I mean like like- like I fancy him.

I haven’t seen him in person in almost three weeks because of him needing to be at the factory and then back to back race weekends, which I think makes seeing him through the screen all the more special. He grins widely on the podium, spraying the champagne at Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez.

Of course this season it’s not rare to see him up on the podium, but everytime it happens sparks erupt in my stomach in pride of how much success he’s having and how proud he must be of himself.

I like seeing that gleam in his eye and that cheeky smile that he only reserves for the camera.

I can’t help but smile myself.

My phone vibrates on the couch next to me and I glance over at it, frowning as Lando’s contact picture pops up.

I know I should answer. I’ve already left Flo’s call and Oliver’s texts unresponded to, and with Lando being my favorite sibling, I should have a soft enough spot to respond to him.

He’s probably confused on why I haven’t been as talkative as I usually am with him lately. Usually before races, I send him a text wishing him luck, but I haven’t done that for this race or last race. And I know I should answer to congratulate him on his P10- a great result for this year's McClaren, but I’m unsure of how the rest of the conversation will go.

I’m sure Oliver and Flo have already told him about how unresponsive I’ve been to them, he’ll probably press me for answers of why that is. But… Lando is the last person I would want to talk about these problems with.

And truthfully, between having to readjust to being a single mom again for these past three weeks and recognizing and dealing with my feelings for Charles, I don’t want to add my baggage with my family onto the stack of things for me to deal with.

So I leave my phone to buzz.

~

“Go play in your room,” I encourage the girls, watching them run into their bedroom.

My attention returns to my phone screen where Charles’ smile from seeing his two daughters has slowly faded.

“What’s up?” I question, sensing a slightly bothered vibe from his end.

“I can’t be home by tomorrow night anymore,” he informs me, “They told me that if I went from the race straight to the factory for a couple of days, I could have more time off, which means more time to spend with my family.”

I try to take in his words, I truly do, but my brain pauses at two parts. 

Home.

My family.

We’re his home, we’re his family.

But once his words process, my heart starts to break. Mainly for Ada and Lucy, who have been so excited to see their dad since he left. Although they see him in the car and understand that it’s his job to race, they don’t understand why he’s gone so long and often, and it breaks my heart to have to explain it to them before every race weekend.

Tears start to pool in their eyes and their noses scrunch up, sniffling. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, it’s okay, I understand,” I tell him. I can’t hide the shake in my voice, showing that although I might understand, I’m still upset by it.

He sighs. “Y/N-””Really, Charles, I get it,” I try my best to stabilize my voice. “Go rest, you must have a long day tomorrow. Have a nice sleep.”

I hang up before he can respond, not wanting to hear whatever he has to say. I know that whatever he has to say will pull at my heart, which will strengthen my feelings for him even more.

And I can’t have my feelings for him strengthened. I need those feelings to dissolve.

My phone buzzes with a text, and then another one. I think it’s from the same person, but when I check my phone I’m surprised that it’s not.

Charles: I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.

Cisca: Oliver, Lando, and Flo told me that you’re avoiding their calls and texts. At least let us know that you’re alright.

I inhale a deep, shaky breath, trying to stabilize my emotions so that I don’t break down. 

I respond to one of those texts.

Y/N: I know, Charles.

~

I snap a picture of the two toddlers resting their hands against the glass, staring up at the sea creatures passing above them in awe. After tagging the aquarium’s location, I post it to my private story, locking the phone and sliding it back into my pocket.

“You see that one, girls?” I kneel next to them, pointing at a whale above our heads. “That’s a beluga whale. They can live up to 50 years old.”

“Scary,” Ada comments, watching it swim past the glass.

“No, no, they’re only scary if you’re mean to them,” I reassure the girls. “Come on, let’s go look at the starfish.”

The girls go to sleep easy and fast that night, exhausted from the day at the aquarium. I’ve curled myself up in a blanket on the couch, some crappy reality TV on in the background when I get the chance to open Instagram again.

A message from Alex Albon is waiting in my DMs. He had responded to my story of the girls at the aquarium.

Alex: They’re so cute! Did they have a nice time? I haven’t been to an aquarium in ages.

Y/N: They had a great time! Next time you’re in town we’ll go 🙂

To my surprise, he responds almost instantly.

Alex: I’d love that. Or you could bring them to see the aquarium in Monaco 😉 

I giggle at the message.

Y/N: You’ve been talking to Charles too much

Alex: I have. I’d love to talk to you, Ada, and Lucy more. You should come to Monaco so that we can have a conversation

Y/N: Nice try, Albon

I feel happy about the conversation that I just had with Alex. I was really close to him and a few other drivers when I was a constant presence on the grid, and when I became pregnant and left, I severed all of those connections so that I could hide my secret from Charles more easily.

Now that my secret’s been revealed and I’ll be even more of a presence in the paddock, because I have Ada and Lucy with me now, I’d love to fix those connections. I don’t know where to start, but small conversations like this help, I guess.

My finger taps on the discover page, scrolling through casually. I freeze at a familiar image, tapping on it.

Spill_the_f1_tea: More information has been revealed about Charles Leclerc and Y/N Norris’ supposed twin daughters! An unofficial source has confirmed that they are the Ferrari driver’s children, Lucy on the second slide and Ada on the third slide. The first photo is taken from Y/N’s Instagram story today. The source close to the pair is unable to provide photos of the toddlers faces at this moment. What do you think about this reveal?

My finger swipes between the three photos in disbelief. Who would do such a thing? I know from what I’ve been telling everyone and what Charles has been telling everyone, we’ve wanted to keep this situation as on the down low as possible so that we could figure out how to co-parent before announcing the news and going public with it over winter break.

Tears start to well up in my eyes at the lack of respect towards my children’s privacy. I can’t stop reading the line The source close to the pair is unable to provide photos of the toddlers faces at this moment.

How can a person genuinely type that out and think that it’s an appropriate thing to post? If the parents aren’t posting pictures of the children’s faces, or of the children in general, why would a random person do that?

I sniffle, opening the viewers from my Instagram story that I posted today and taking screenshots so that I can hopefully connect the dots. But I have no clue when those other photos were taken, or where, or by who.

Heck, it could’ve been me who took the photos and posted them two months ago and I’ve just forgotten about it. And now I have no record of who viewed it or screenshotted those photos.

“Hello?” I answer the incoming phone call from Charles, my voice cracking.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks softly.

“A gossip blog just made a post about the girls. It’s information from an unofficial source, Charles, I have no clue who it could be,” I admit, choking on a sob. My chest hurts at the utter betrayal from a friend or family member close to me.

“What account?” Charles asks.

I tell him and it’s quiet as he looks at the post.

“I’m so sorry, Charles.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” he reassures me, “You trusted the people closest to you, the fact that they turned around and stabbed you in the back is not on you, it’s on them and reflects poorly on them as a person. We will find out who sent those photos in, okay?”

I nod, then remember that he can’t see me. “Okay.”

“Are you okay if I make a post? Just to confirm that I am the father of the twins. That’s all I say, I won’t confirm their names or show their faces. I just want to stop the speculation of paternity so that we can hopefully have less prying eyes in the future,” he requests.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just… don’t reveal all of them to the whole world, yet. Let them make that decision.”

“Of course,” he immediately agrees, “At least this unofficial source didn’t send in pictures showing their faces.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

The phone call ends and I’m left to just sit back, twiddling my fingers and watch Kim hit Kourtney with her purse until Charles does whatever he wants to do for damage control.

My phone pings with a notification of being tagged in a post on Instagram.

charles_leclerc: Hi everyone, Y/N and I share wonderful twin daughters together. Out of respect for their privacy and our own, that is all the information that we are willing to share at this point in time. Please respect that and treat everyone, including the amazing mother of my children, with kindness. Thank you.

Tears begin to escape my eyes again. But they’re not anxious tears, they’re not sad tears, they’re happy tears. I’m happy because of Charles.

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[uchu-no-bashira]

Sultry Patience - Gyomei x OC!Kiana

Authors Note: I say that this is for pride month because my OC is very Pansexual/Demisexual. Sorry if you don't like OC works, buuutt you can always scroll! Anyway, hope you enjoy it, if you don't you don't.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Long read, Mentions of alcohol, Teasing, Anal fingering, Power play, Submission/Domination, Pegging, Sex Toys, Nipple play, Sensory overload, Slight Sadism, Slight Spanking, Mentions of Bodily Fluids, Consensual sex between adults over the age of 21, Oral sex, Cunnilingus, Black character because she is.

…“I wanted to know if you… Wanted to help me try something new in the, uh, bedroom?” Kiana pauses for a moment, looking the man up and down before turning around to face him.

“Something new? I would love to, but we have to be at the party soon and you know, when it comes to us, we take at least an hour or two.” She giggles, taking her finger and dragging it along his chest. “For you, though? Anything. They’ll be alright without us. What did you have in mind, Gyomei?”

Making an almost unsure hum, he rests his hands on Kiana’s hips and mumbles, “Let’s take a shower first? And we’ll need lube.” Kiana nods her head, then begins to lead him back to the bathroom. “Oh, and make sure you clean under your nails, love.” He says sternly, listening to Kiana chortle before she agrees to said demands.

“I’ll take a few of em off…”

Kiana wasn’t quite expecting her night to go like this, with her sight befalling one of the most beautiful physiques she’d ever seen. Rippling abdominals, toned lats and two incredibly strong forearms rest restrained up above Gyomei’s head. The one detail she loved most from her view of Gyomei’s visage was the soft, unmistakable undertone of bashfulness painted upon it. The large man’s chest lifted slowly with anticipation and longing, his lips part and his thick member twitched a few inches above his hardened stomach as he exhaled. Sweat glistens along his skin and the half-lidded look of pure arousal that takes residence in his eyes fills the pit of Kiana’s stomach with an overwhelming sense of control. She knew very well he could snap the bindings holding his wrists together, but he instead chose to be at the mercy of her every whim.

It would have been rude for her not to indulge herself in his features, pressing her open palms beneath his massive thigh in one hand, gently stroking her thumb against the hairy surface as she marveled his being. He looked so perfect on his back, so submissive. She couldn’t help but blush the slightest bit as she turned her head to the side, brushing her nose against the inner skin of his knee and pressing warm, close-mouthed kisses to his flesh.

“Mmm, you behave so well.” She cooed softly as he stifled a soft moan. Lower she goes, leaving a blazing trail of wet kisses until she reaches his femoral artery, smiling when he flinches beneath her touch and a pleasured sound is caught at the back of Gyomei’s throat. She doesn’t let up, dragging her wet muscle up and down, kissing slowly and sensually along cooled skin before moving further along.

Kiana continues her barrage, reaching his lower abdomen to follow his happy trail upward. The sound of the binding being pulled augmented with the strained grunts of his waning patience. When Kiana pulled her pouty lips from his abdomen, Gyomei sighed and opened his teary eyes. Now, at full mast, the Stone Hashira was as stiff as his title’s sake.

“It’s too much…” He grunts, baring his teeth and holding his head back. Sensations for Gyomei could, sometimes, be overwhelming. And, if not careful, it could cause the man a great deal of pain. But, if done correctly, euphoria would come just as naturally as breathing. Kiana wanted him to feel everything that she was doing and wanted him to writhe beneath her in absolute pleasure. It was consensual, of course, but that didn’t make it any less sadistic.

The interested woman readjusts herself between Gyomei’s powerful thighs, finding comfort in the way her new harness squeezed the cuff of her ass tightly, but comfortably. She prolongs his waiting, making sure that she applied her nipple clamps on him just right. Not too tight, not too loose. She turns the device to level one, biting her bottom lip from the tantalizing sight of Gyomei beginning to cry again, exhaling lustfully when his tip glistens the slightest bit.

“Remember our safe word, ‘Mei~.” She whispers, taking the pads of her fingertips and softly brushing them against each one of his sensitive cheekbones as she holds his face. Gyomei nods his head, giving a wavering, ‘yes, mistress.’ In response from the stimulation of his areolas. Kiana’s heated fingertips tease Gyomei’s flushed skin. It wasn’t enough to make him whine, but it was enough to make his thick cock react. Each touch was like electricity, moving from his chest, spiraling in his stomach and sparking at his rounded tip.

Closing his eyes, Gyomei’s abs brace from the tingle of a few delicate, coffin-tipped nails tickling his skin, making him pant slightly, almost pulling a giggle from his chest from how feather-light it was. Kiana begins dragging her nails from his chest, pushing downward to reach his upper abdomen, then to his diaphragm and finally, each of his flanks.

Unable to hold back the chesty moan that left his throat, Gyomei undulates as she massages each nerve ending, fighting to keep his hips from bucking into the air while pulling in a sharp breath through his teeth. Kiana smirks at him again, enjoying the reaction to such a minute, gentle touch, one that she knew was only effectuated by her hands. She teases his adonis belt with single digits, writing her name in cursive upon them and taking in the resounding hum her lover makes.

With one sweltering palm, Kiana grabs Gyomei’s girth and angles her head. It was amazing to think that something that big ravaged her insides from time to time, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it looked like covered in her juices when he thrust himself into her. More enticing a thought; what would it look like slathered in his own cum? Inquiring minds died to know. Sooner than later, she’d have her answer. Stroking his length at a painfully slow pace, Kiana experiments with her lover.

She drags the pad of her thumb downward, pulling back his foreskin and all but trilling at the sight of his pretty pink tip. Her opening begins to slobber upon the silicone object pushed into her warmth as she leans down to kitten lick the underside of his length and trace the veins until they imprint upon her tongue. As Kiana’s head bobs up and down, Gyomei chokes back guttural grunts. His hips begin rolling impatiently with an aching need, desperate to reach that sensation of release. “Ah~”

He could hear the lathering sound of her wet muscle delving beneath his foreskin and could sense every inch of it swirling the tip of his sensitive member. He begins to prod a tight, spongy surface, slipping in and out, curving over each of Kiana’s salivating adenoids. Gyomei gasps when her tongue maneuvers its way through his slit and he bites back a groan, all but holding his breath when  her cheeks suck in and she slurps the accumulated mess from his member. “Oh my God…” He moans breathily, allowing his jaw to go slack.

Kiana’s head pulls up, breaking the soothing stimulation and leaving an obscene string of saliva that connects to the pillow plush of her thick lips. “Mmm~ Do you know how good you taste?” She purred, stroking his length again while pressing her thumb against his slit. Kiana rolls her own hips in a circular motion, using the inserted end of her harness to rub against her g-spot and satiate her growing desire. This meant she could take all night with Gyomei if she wanted, but she wouldn’t be that cruel.

“N-no… M-mistress…” He pants, squeezing his nails into the beds of his palms, listening to the indecent squelch between her legs and the soft moans that barely took full form in her voice box. It was all so much. The tickling fabric of Kiana’s silk sheets, the sting of rope hugging his wrists and forearms, the mouth watering drip of Kiana’s soaking heat and the irresistible scent of her citrus body wash all paired so well together, making a cocktail of unbridled arousal. He could almost feel himself drowning in the outside stimulus, the pleasure of it all causing him to tear up again.

Remember those nails she said she’d take off? Well, as Kiana takes her time applying lubrication, the pad of her right middle finger rubs steady circles around the ring of his opening. She purrs out sounds of encouragement whilst adorning the flushed color of his face. “You know I’ll be gentle. Relax for me.” She whispered, slathering more of the warm, water-based lubricant against his hole, massaging the massive girth of his member with her left hand and picking up a bit of speed as she goes.

“Hah~... Mmmn…” He was almost unable to speak from the sensation of her finger delving into a place it’d never been before. He leans into the feeling of her heated digit, shivering beneath Kiana's touch. With an exasperated whine, Gyomei waits patiently, obediently at the command of his mistress and his face begins to shade a deeper Ruby pigment. There were eyes on his body, he could feel it. Kiana’s whimsical but penetrating gaze, the heat of the lights in the room and the weight of the air teasing his delicate, raised scars. The rate of her heartbeat signaled that she was getting off on this.

“Almost ready, Mei. Sorry it’s taking so long, I just don’t want to hurt you… Dos this feel good?” She mumbles in a raspy tone, pumping her small middle finger deeper into him while readjusting herself again, her head lowered and tongue swirling the tip of Gyomei’s girth while watching his facial expression with doe-shaped eyes. 

The sight of his jaw going slack again and his sightles eyes rolling in his head compels the brown-skinned woman to force her hips down onto the pleasure device pushed against her sweet spot. She emits a lecherous moan while lewdly lapping at him, swallowing him up like a fresh drink of water. With each roll of her provocative tongue and prod with her deft fingers, Gyomei falls further into the rabbit hole of pleasure and whines out an uncharacteristically impatient sound. Imagine his surprise when Kiana uses the slick from her watering mouth to slip a second dexterous finger inside him.

The Stone Hashira couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his arms, or every hair rising on the back of his neck, standing on edge with every warm puff of air against his foreskin. The way her tongue swirled around his puffy, wet tip was becoming increasingly unbearable. “Mistress...” He groans as light tears cover the surface of his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as Kiana pumps her fingers in and out of his rectum with ease. “Hoshi.” Gyomei pants, his length throbbing and twitching as he begins to feel agonizing pressure build steadily in his abdomen.

Pulling her head back from his pelvis, Kiana hums sultrily, repositioning herself above him once again. “Mhn~ Okay. I’ll take it easy since I still have things I want to try~” Kiana giggles, flashing him an unseen, shit-eating grin. The larger male could hear the pending mischief in the tone of her faded voice, the sound sending a subtle enthrallment through his body. Gyomei nods at her statement, his breath hitching as she slowly pulls each digit from his heated core. While looking down at him, the Universe Hashira lifts a brow. “Hm? I can’t hear you, Himejima.” She states curtly, firmly gripping his length in her heated palm.

“Yes, mistress.” He uttered through a strangled breath, flexing his wrists against the bindings so tightly that the muscles and veins in his arms protruded more than normal. The sight warrants a predatory growl from Kiana, leaving her with the thought of how helpless this powerful being was beneath her tiny finger tips. Satisfied with the response, the smaller woman grabs a silicone toy, it was no more than about five or six inches long and slightly thick.

Kiana releases Gyomei’s length and takes the dildo into both hands so that she can fit it into the base of her harness ring. Once secure, she adjusts and tightens the belt on each side until the phallic toy is lined up to the perfect height. Grabbing the lubrication, popping the top and rubbing it lightly into each palm, she begins to lather the sex toy, biting her bottom lip excitedly. Using the remaining fluid, Kiana brushes her palms along his inner thigh at a snail’s pace, all while giving a warm, gentle smile.  “Are you ready, Mei’?”

“Yes, mistress.” He answers swiftly. He’d beg if he only had the permission to do so, but his words of desire were shackled by the command of his mistress who told him to only say yes or no. His patience was running thin as he felt Kiana hesitate to line up with his mildly stretched rectum. Gyomei’s teeth sank into his bottom lip, holding back the soft whine slowly pushing through his nostrils in a controlled breath. Once his lungs are empty, he feels a slippery, filling sensation as Kiana eases the sex toy inside him. Through a guttural moan, Gyomei cries out in pleasure, his length throbbing  with each slow, deep stroke into his prostate.

“That’s such a pretty sight~” Kiana murmurs, watching his tip steadily ooze precum while guiding one hand over a set of rippling muscles to rest on his hip. “Your handsome face. Your extraordinary voice. The way your body trembles beneath my fingers. Am I pleasing you properly, Gyomei?” She asks rhetorically, scanning every inch of his sweaty body with her galactic irises, only stopping once she met his sightless gaze.

“Y-yes, Mistress!” He sobs, craning his neck to the side as the object pushes deeper. Kiana thrusts her hips at a steady pace, gripping Gyomei’s hips tight enough to leave an imprint with her remaining nails. What caught her by surprise was the way Gyomei moved his hips downward onto the sex toy, fucking himself deeper with wild abandon. Kiana matches his pace, taking note of how close he was getting - the signs all over his reddened face and flushed body.

“Feels… So good… Kiana.” He husks out, opening his watery eyes and turning to face in her direction. His mind had been steadily breaking from the overwhelming, gentle vibrations radiating through each of his areola that made a beeline to the pit of his stomach and paired perfectly with the pleasure of his core being massaged. “May I cum, mistress?” He whines.

A thousand butterflies taking flight at once fills the cavity of Kiana’s chest from the sound that left his mouth. He’d never said her name in such an enraptured tone before, but it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. In response, her heat clenches around the pleasure device deep inside her, spasming incessantly and covering it with an abundance of slick that leaks over the bottom of the harness and drips slowly onto the bed.

“Hold on just a little more, my love.” She spoke erotically, angling her hips down and thrusting slowly. “I wish to know the extent of your control.” A muffled moan spreads through the room when Gyomei throws his head back, mouth agape while trying to keep together the small fragments of his coherence. Another, shaken, ‘Yes… Mistress…’ leaves the booming cavity of his chest, coercing Kiana to smirk with delight.

She decides that making the over-sensitive man wait much longer was a crime and that she would absolutely love to see him make a mess of himself. Kiana pushes her hips until they connect with his holding herself there as she reaches for the medium sized vibrator that connected to his nipple clamps. Once it was in her grasp, the bronze-skinned woman gives Gyomei’s prostate some slack before shifting the dildo to press upward onto his g-spot.

“Hahh!~ Agh!~ M-mmm…Mistr-” Euphoria suffuses the body so powerfully that the Stone Hashira chokes on each syllable and every vowel. That wasn’t the end of his torment, though. Kiana takes the rounded vibrator, placing it on the base of his testicles, turning the vibration level up to four. “AH~ Kiana!~”  Gyomei whimpers as the muscles in his legs, abdominals and arms flex while his balls tighten. 

“Wait.” She announces sternly through his unrestrained sounds of pleasure, keeping her eyes on his tip as fluid pushes itself to the surface through his clenching. Using slick from her opening, Kiana uses her free hand to massage Gyomei’s length, twisting her wrist in gentle circles and moving her hips forward. “Cum for me.”

Something inside him snaps. Maybe it was that final, hair-thin thread of pleasure, or maybe it was the expanse of Gyomei’s psyche as his distinguished poise crumbles like wood into ash. Either way, an explosive moan erupts from his chest and thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his abdominals as he groans in relief. It spills like lava, traveling down his length and pooling onto his pelvis. His chest heaves uncontrollably as he tries to catch his breath from the sheer power of his own orgasm. 

Kiana watches his body tense up and trills from the sight of his pleasure, giggling as she removes herself from his entrance and leans down to clean him with her mouth and tongue. She swallows every ounce of his seed before pushing her lips over his sensitive tip and bobbing her head for another five minutes before he erupts again. Ever the guzzler she was, making sure not to leave a mess behind, even going as far as to lick her lips. “I see you've been eating an abundance of pineapples.” She chuckles.

“Mmmn…” He rasps, remaining silent for a few moments  to enjoy his respite. Kiana makes her way off of the bed and maneuvers the harness from her lower half. As the slick-covered dildo slips out of her canal, she moans softly then sanitizes and puts all of the pieces in their corresponding place. Gyomei, having finally caught his breath, snaps his bindings with ease and unravels it from around his forearms before tossing them into the nearby trash bin.

Kiana walks around her apartment, ass-out, looking for her bottoms that she’d flung somewhere or another. “Where on Earth are my goddamn pants?” She mumbles, looking left and right with both hands on her hips. As she looked around, Gyomei had moved in front of her closet, arms folded and eyes closed with a smirk on his face.

“I hid them in a place only I could reach when you went to change into your harness. You should really tie up your victims before leaving them alone around your things.” He chuckles, lifting his eyes slowly. “I feel like… You lied. You said you’d never done that before.” He tones a bit sternly, with a playful lilt. Kiana purses her lips, blinking at him while holding her hands up as if to say ‘dunno.’ “I never lied. I said I’d never done that with you before. So…” Before she could even finish her sentence, Gyomei snatches her up and throws her over his shoulder. His large palm comes up, almost tearing through the wind before making contact on Kiana’s ass with a resounding slap. The smaller woman yelps, feeling the bridge of her face heat up as she covers her mouth. “Gyomei! What are you doing? We have to go~”

He moves her back to the bed, gaining consent to tie her hands above her head. He kisses her from the curve of her neck, to the mound of her mons pubis before spreading her legs and holding them in place. As his head lowers, Gyomei speaks in soothing decibels, setting in place the rules of their night.  “It’s ‘Sir’ to you. Only yes or no…” He whispers, kissing her inner thigh. “Have Siri text the others and tell them you’ll be late. I wish to test the extent of your control.”

[supernaturalscribe67]

In Plain Sight

Words: 6,968

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, fear of rejection, brothers keeping secrets, Dean being a teasing asshole as always, Supportive family, The Reader's boyfriend is a total himbo

Summary: The reader has been keeping a secret from his brothers his entire life. The reader is gay, and it was something that he had always kept from Sam and Dean in fear of their reaction. What happens when Sam and Dean stumble upon a moment between the reader and his boyfriend? How will they react?

Request:

Hi! Don’t know if your doing requests or not, BUT if you are can you do one where Dean and Sam have an Older brother who is gay and has a boyfriend but hides it because he doesn’t think that Sam and Dean would approve that he like guys and has a boyfriend, and one night where Sam and Dean go out on a hunt and their supposed to be gone for a week but come back early and find their older brother with his boyfriend passed out on the couch with a movie playing

@hpxmcusworld

A/N: Words cannot even begin to describe how sorry I am for taking over a month to get this out. So much has been going on in my life, specifically at work. I could write a twelve-book series about all the drama that has been going on at work. You guys can't even BEGIN to imagine, especially everything that has been happening in the last week. I mean, it's baffling. Regardless, here's the story, finally! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this!

~ Much love!

(Y/N) laid on the couch in the Men of Letters bunker. A blanket was draped over his body loosely, and the corner of the fabric lay limply on the floor. A box of Kleenex sat on the floor next to the sofa, crumpled-up tissues tossed here and there in a small waste bin placed next to (Y/N)’s head. There was some cheesy medical drama show playing in the background on the television that he was barely paying attention to. 

As the show went to commercial break, the sound of a pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the open door. (Y/N) glanced up as Sam and Dean appeared in the doorway, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Dean peered in and eyed him. 

“Hey, man, how’re you feeling?” He asked. 

(Y/N) cleared his throat and brought the blanket further up his body, placing it directly under his chin. “Still feel kinda shitty,” he replied, his voice low and scratchy. 

“That sucks,” Dean shook his head. “I’m surprised Sammy and I haven’t got anything from you, yet,” 

“Honestly, me too,” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with staying here while we go on the hunt?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah, it’s a simple salt ‘n burn. At least that’s what Garth says. You guys will be alright.” 

They both nodded. “Well, we’ll call you when we get there.” Dean gave a brief wave.

(Y/N) smiled softly. “Alright, see you guys later,” he waved at them. 

“See ya’.” They spoke in unison as they walked out of the room. 

(Y/N) turned his head back to the television, but didn’t listen to the line delivery. Rather, he listened to their steps. He listened as they slowly faded in the distance, followed by the heavy sound of the bunker door opening and closing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiety and anticipation. Even with how far he was from the garage, he could still hear the roar of the Impala’s engine. He waited as it gradually softened before disappearing from the vicinity. 

When all he could hear was the sound from the medical drama, he broke out into a smile and threw the blanket off of his body, sitting up quicker than he ever had before. He rapidly took out his phone from his pocket and went to his contact list. He dialed the number marked Quinn (Hunter/Cincinnati) and called. 

Quinn was a fellow hunter that he, Sam, and Dean had met when they were on the road a little over two years ago after they got wind of a Wendigo in Ohio. What started as a typical hunting partnership turned into a celebration at the bar, which later turned into a night of (Y/N) and Quinn sharing the same bed. Since then, the two of them would text and call each other, asking each other for advice on hunts, getting to know one another, and, on occasion, scheduling a time and place for them to meet up if they were close enough. It was evident months after the two of them began communicating that they started to develop feelings. It wasn’t just casual sex to let out pent-up frustration, there were emotions behind the act, and both of them knew it. Quinn was the one who spoke up first. When prompted with the idea of making their relationship official, (Y/N) was hesitant, but he couldn’t deny the feeling that welled deep inside of him and accepted. Under one condition;

Sam and Dean couldn’t know. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers, or feared they wouldn’t like Quinn. Quite the contrary, he knew they would like him. Quinn’s personality was the perfect mixture of Sam and Dean. A badass flirt with the heart of a big nerd. He would fit right into their group. But there was one big secret that he had been keeping from his brothers his entire life, and he wasn’t yet prepared to make it public. 

Sam and Dean didn’t know he was gay. 

True, he never outwardly told them he was straight, but he also never attempted to flirt with anyone at the bar in front of them. Whenever they would question him about it (more specifically Dean), he would always brush him off and tell him how tired he was after the hunt. He never lied to them. He was always tired after hunts. Yet he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the only reason why. He would trick himself into thinking he didn’t know the reason behind his hesitancy, but he knew. 

He couldn’t blame it on any event in particular, but he understood that his upbringing had a lot to do with his reluctance. With the lack of acceptance he saw from his father on a variety of topics and how influential their father was on Sam and Dean’s views - despite what Sam would say - he was anxious about the way his brothers would react if he came out to them. The worst-case scenario always popped into mind when he considered coming out to them. The idea that they wouldn’t accept him, that they would turn their backs on him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He would rather keep himself closeted for the rest of his life than risk it. 

That was why he decided to feign his illness to spend quality time with his boyfriend. He planned to have Quinn spend a couple of days with him, going out with him on different dates, and doing various activities together, and, the day before Sam and Dean would get back, Quinn would head out and be back on the road while (Y/N) would go back to pretending he was in recovery. It was a foolproof plan. 

He was sure of it.

 

*~*

Quinn arrived three hours after Sam and Dean had left. (Y/N) was quick to open the bunker door as soon as the knocking echoed throughout the halls. Quinn had a bright smile on his face. Clad in a loose-fitting plaid shirt, jeans, and combat boots, Quinn stood a couple of inches taller than (Y/N). His black hair was slicked back neatly, just like it was on their first official date, and his beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn greeted in his heavy Midwestern accent. 

“Hey, glad you made it,” (Y/N) reached a hand up and cupped his cheek gently. 

Quinn pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Had to drive around once or twice because I couldn’t find that little makeshift driveway y’all made, but other than that…” Quinn wrapped his arms around his waist. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s supposed to be hidden.”

Quinn smirked. “And you did a damn good job hiding it,” He mumbled before he leaned down, connecting their lips. 

(Y/N) chuckled into the kiss, his eyes closing. His heart never failed to flutter every time Quinn kissed him. In a sense, (Y/N) felt the same as he did when he was in high school and had a crush on a boy in his class. Whenever Quinn was near him, holding his hand, and kissing him, he could feel the swarm of butterflies flying around in his gut. It was refreshing to his aging mind to feel as young as he did when he was around his boyfriend. 

Quinn was the first to pull away, the smile never leaving his lips as he stared lovingly into (Y/N)’s eyes. He pressed their foreheads together. “So, it’s just gonna be us?” 

“Just us for the whole week.” 

Quinn hummed and kissed his cheek before he stood up straight. “Why don’t you show me around then? I’ve heard some stories about the Men of Letters here and there, but nothing much. I’m kind of excited to see what they have hidden down here.” Quinn stepped past the threshold and into the bunker. 

“God, you sound just like my brother.” (Y/N) mumbled as he shut the door. “Always excited to research everything you find interesting.” 

“Sounds like someone I’d get along with then. I’d love to meet him again someday.” Quinn hinted with a raised brow. 

“Yeah…some day.” 

(Y/N) gestured toward the stairs and began to walk down, Quinn a couple of steps behind him. 

“So, you haven’t told them yet.” It was phrased more like a statement than a question. “I thought you would have told them by now.” 

(Y/N) sighed as he got to the bottom of the stairs and turned back toward Quinn. “I was going to tell them…at some point. It just…never came up.” 

“And, what, this wasn’t a time when it could have been brought up?” 

“You know how I feel about telling them, Quinn.” 

“I know, darlin’, I know. But we’ve been together for almost two years now. It was fun sneaking around in the beginning, but…” Quinn trailed. “(Y/N), I love you, and I see myself wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it will be, but I don’t want it to be in secret.” Quinn slowly took a couple of steps towards (Y/N) and grasped his hands in his. “I want you to be proud of our relationship,” 

“I am proud of us,” 

“Proud enough to tell your brothers?” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to reply, but he found it nearly impossible to lie to him. He wanted to say that he was confident enough to tell Sam and Dean. Confident enough to finally tell them what he had been hiding from them for years. Yet there was still that voice in the back of his head convincing him otherwise. 

Quinn sighed after (Y/N) failed to answer. “Tell you what? We can talk about it before I leave, okay? How about we use this time to enjoy ourselves?” 

(Y/N) glanced down at their hands for a moment. “You won’t be upset if we don’t talk about it right now?” 

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. I promise,” he smiled. “I love you too much to stay mad at you for long.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. 

Quinn chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around?”

 

*~*

After giving a brief tour of the bunker, accompanied by some oohs and awes from Quinn, (Y/N) helped him get set up in their shared bedroom. It was exciting. Even though Quinn was only staying for a couple of days, it would be the longest that the two of them had spent together consecutively, and that meant the world to (Y/N). He considered it his first taste of normalcy. A view of the ‘apple pie life’ as his brother called it. 

Some would argue that the discovery of the bunker should be considered his first experience with a normal life. He permanently had a roof over his head, a place to call home. But it’s difficult to consider the bunker a ‘home’ in terms of ‘normal’ when his job was hunting. He was surrounded by his job, day in and day out, haunted by the spirits of the men who hunted before him. No, home to him was a two-story colonial, painted blue, with a white picket fence surrounding the front and back yards. Sure, the bunker was safe, and kept the dangers away while they had a chance to relax, but it wasn’t a home. It never felt like a home, not truly. At least, (Y/N) didn’t think that’s what a home should feel like. 

Regardless, he had a feeling that, with Quinn by his side for the week, he would get a small glimpse into the reality he could have. A reality where hunting wasn’t a part of his life, where he wasn’t put in harm's way on a day-to-day basis with minimal pay - if you considered credit card fraud and hustling a paycheck. And the mere idea of experiencing such a life, even for a brief moment, sent a level of excitement through him and made him more anxious about the days to come. 

For most of the day, Quinn explored the bunker, asking questions about various artifacts placed on display and getting less-than-satisfactory answers from his partner. His main level of interest was focused on the library, and the variety of research material scattered around the aged shelves. (Y/N) thought it was cute how excited he was, and he didn’t mind that his boyfriend’s attention was mainly attached to the bunker and not him. He had Quinn with him for a whole week, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself just by being in the same room as him. 

They cooked dinner together that night, a basic pasta recipe one of them found online. Something was satisfying and romantic about the entire experience. In a way, they felt like newlyweds, having their first dinner in the very first house they bought together. It truly was as if they were staring through a lens at a reality they could have, and it was peaceful. 

After dinner, the two of them sat in the living room - Dean’s ‘Man Cave’ as he likes to call it - with a movie cued up on the television, blankets covering their bodies, and pillows behind their backs for support. Quinn leaned back against the couch, one leg elevated on the rest of the couch, and one arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N)’s head rested on Quinn’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around his back, as they watched the movie. A bowl of popcorn sat on Quinn’s lap and the two of them snacked on it occasionally. 

Well, more than occasionally. 

Quinn reached his hand into the bowl but stopped when his fingertips scraped along the buttery plastic bottom. He looked down and noticed the bowl was empty. The movie was only a quarter of the way over, and he knew that the two of them would need more snacks if they were going to make it the rest of the way. 

“Hey, go ahead and pause it. I’m going to go get us some more popcorn.” Quinn gestured towards the TV. 

(Y/N) sat up, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. Quinn grunted as he stood up and stretched his back. A faint pop could be heard. Quinn let out a satisfied sigh as he looked down at his boyfriend. 

“Do you want anything? Snacks or a drink?” 

(Y/N) hummed. “I put some M&Ms on the top shelf in the glass cabinet. If you wouldn’t mind getting those, that would be great.” 

Quinn furrowed his brows. “The glass cabinet? Why the hell did you put them there?” 

“Trust me, if you know Dean Winchester, that man can snack,” (Y/N) rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I tried hiding my snacks everywhere in my room, but he always managed to find them. I’m waiting for him to find this stash.” 

Quinn chuckled. “Okay, now I know I’ll get along with your brothers.” He turned and began to walk out of the room. 

(Y/N) narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “If you tell Dean about my stash, I’ll kill you.” 

Quinn pushed his bottom lip out, held up his free hand in surrender, and wordlessly walked out of the room. 

When Quinn left, (Y/N) let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Even when he wasn’t in the room, knowing his boyfriend was in the same building as him made his heart flutter. A smile spread across his lips as he lowered himself onto the couch, lying on his side where Quinn had been sitting. He pulled the blanket closer to his body and let out a surprising giggle. A part of him felt pathetic for acting as such, but the other part adored it. Loved the way that Quinn made him feel. It only made the connection between them stronger, and that made (Y/N) look forward to their time together even more. 

It didn’t take long for Quinn to return, the scent of fresh popcorn wafting into the living room. Quinn stopped as he passed through the door. He stared at (Y/N) for a moment before he walked in front of the couch. He held the bowl of popcorn in one hand and (Y/N)’s M&Ms in the other. He gestured down at him. 

“I was sitting there,” he smirked. 

(Y/N) raised a brow and glanced down at the couch. “Oh, were you?” He questioned, his smirk placed on his face as he snuggled deeper into the cushion. 

Quinn deadpanned, head tilted to the side. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he silently nodded, set the bowl of popcorn and package of M&Ms on the ground next to the couch, and began to climb on top of (Y/N). 

“What are you doing!?” (Y/N) exclaimed with an amused, yet startled tone. 

“Laying down,” Quinn couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face. 

Quinn laid down on (Y/N), blanketing his body with his. (Y/N) groaned. 

“You’re so heavy!” He whined. 

Quinn laughed. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of (Y/N)’s neck and adjusted himself on top of him. “But you’re so comfy,” 

(Y/N) let out a sigh and looked down at Quinn with raised brows. Quinn glanced up at him and gave him a bright, white smile. (Y/N) smirked. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as he reached his hand up and began to rake his fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. 

“I know,” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, here,” he mumbled as he shifted under Quinn’s weight. He adjusted himself so his legs were placed on either side of Quinn’s body, and Quinn was lying comfortably across (Y/N)’s chest and stomach. (Y/N) let out a breath of relief. “There, better. Now you’re not so heavy,” he teased.

Quinn glared at him and stuck his tongue out. He then laid his head on his chest gently, eyes cast towards the television. (Y/N) chuckled, his chest rumbling. He reached down, grabbed the remote, and, before he pressed ‘play’, pressed a kiss to Quinn’s temple. 

“I love you,” he spoke softly. 

Quinn glanced up at him, as if studying him, for a brief moment before a smile crept across his lips. “I love you, too, baby,” 

*~*

The hunt was a bust. What started as a potential salt and burn turned out to be some ghost-hunting TV personality wannabe who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. The whole thing was a hoax. A waste of time, and a waste of gas. Dean wasn’t too happy about it, but a part of him was glad that he was able to get back to his bed sooner, rather than have his back stabbed by some cheap boxspring. His memory foam mattress sure had him spoiled. Sam, on the other hand, was excited to get back to the bunker to check in on their brother. They hadn’t called him since they left, and he was anxious to see if he was feeling any better. Granted, he didn’t know how well someone could feel in less than twenty-four hours, but he hoped that he would feel even slightly like his normal self. 

He had been sick for over a week, after all. 

They pulled into the bunker around four in the morning, no doubt thinking the rumbling of the Impala’s engine would wake their brother. Even in the deepest parts of the bunker, it was nearly impossible to miss the sound of the Impala approaching, and Dean thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. 

“I’m going to have Garth pay me back for all that gas I just wasted,” Dean grumbled as he climbed out of the Impala. 

“Don’t,” Sam mumbled. “He didn’t know the hunt was going to be bogus.” 

“The article was a week old, Sam, you said so yourself. You would think that he would do a bit more digging before sending us on a wild goose chase,” Dean opened up the trunk and grabbed his duffel bag. 

“Dean,” 

“And another thing! Do you know how many times I had to stop and get gas?” 

Sam sighed, his movements sluggish, showing his evident exhaustion. “Yes, Dean, I know, I was there. Remember?” 

“Twice! Garth owes me a hundred and twenty bucks for having to fill up that much because he didn’t give a shit enough to look more into the hunt.” 

Sam reached a hand up and ran his thumb and forefinger against his heavy eyelids. “Dean, we’re home, okay? Let’s just go in, check on (Y/N), and go to bed.” 

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it, instead, letting his shoulders slump. He found he was too tired to argue. “Fine,” he grumbled, tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, and wrapped his thumb around the strap. 

The two ventured into the bunker, the familiarity, safety, and comfort of it all causing the exhaustion to double down on them. Sam let out a deep yawn as they stumbled down the stairs with heavy steps. 

“Where do you think (Y/N) is?” Dean asked, the corner of his mouth opening as he yawned as well. 

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Probably his room. Probably asleep for the night,” 

“Alright, I’ll check in on him. Make sure he’s not dying.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine,” he grumbled. 

They walked down the hallway to their respective rooms. Sam wandered into his room, leaving the door open as Dean walked down to his. Sam turned on the lamp from his nightstand and winced slightly at the harsh yellow light. He placed his bag at the corner of his bed and made his way over to the dresser. He was at least thankful for the fact he didn’t use any of the clothes he had packed. Less laundry he would have to do. He kicked off his boots and moved them over to the side of his dresser before he unzipped his duffel bag and began to place all of the clothes he had packed back into their designated spots. 

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hall. “He’s not in his room!” 

Sam furrowed his brows and glanced towards the open door. “Did you check the bathroom?” 

It was silent for a couple of seconds as Sam finished organizing his dresser. Soon, footsteps approached, which caused him to turn back to the door. Dean stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He gestured with his thumb down the hallway. 

“He’s not in the bathroom either.” He said. 

Sam furrowed his brows and hummed. He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. “He was on the couch when we left. Maybe he’s there.” 

“Right, right, I’ll go check.” 

Dean pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked away. Sam could practically feel the exhaustion starting to overwhelm him. He was used to staying up for hours on end, especially when it came to necessary research for a hunt. However, with all the driving they did that day, Dean’s constant bickering, and the endless classic rock songs, the day took a lot out of him. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had any caffeine either. He hoped that Dean would be able to find their brother so he could crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity. 

As soon as Dean left, Sam took his empty duffel bag and placed it on the floor next to his shoes. He then walked over to his door, closed it gently, and wandered back over to his dresser, where he proceeded to change into his nightwear. Once the jeans and flannel were off his body, he felt a sense of relaxation, and even more tired than he had been before. 

Just as he pulled on his sweats, his door swung open. He jumped and turned around, eyes wide. Dean stood in the doorway, a massive grin spread across his lips. 

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “I was changing.” 

“Sorry,” Dean waved him off and shook his head. “Sammy…you gotta come see this.” 

Sam walked over to him. “What’s up? Is (Y/N) okay?” 

Dean snorted. “Oh, he is more than okay. Now, come on,” he gestured towards himself. “But you gotta be quiet.” 

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, brows furrowed, before Dean turned and began to head back down the hallway. Sam followed, the two of them walking silently. Now and then, Dean would glance back at his brother, a child-like glimmer in his eye, the look only causing further confusion. 

“Stop looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out,” Sam said with an unsteady tone. 

Dean shushed him, placing his index finger against his lips, as they stopped in front of the open living room door. Carefully, Dean took a step into the room and pointed to the couch. 

“Look,” he whispered. 

Sam stared at Dean before he, too, stepped into the room, peering inside. His eyes landed on the sofa. At the sight before him, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. 

When he first saw the look of giddiness in his brother’s eyes, he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. He was too tired to come up with any type of logical explanation at that point. The last thing he would have predicted, though, something that wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, was the image placed directly in front of him. He would have never guessed he would find his oldest brother with a man lying on his chest, peacefully asleep on the couch. 

It took Sam a bit to realize his shocked expression was still on his face. He corrected it and crossed his arms as he slowly edged his way into the room, his footsteps light and quiet. Dean followed after him, his grin never wavering. 

“So, I guess he wasn’t sick,” Sam whispered, leaning his body closer to Dean. 

“Nope,” Dean whispered a little louder right back. “And you owe me twenty bucks,” 

“For what?” 

“Remember that bet we made?” 

“Which one?” 

“The one when we were at the bar in Illinois.” 

“What? Six years ago?” 

“Yeah! I told you that I bet he was gay.” 

“This doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be bisexual for all we know.” Sam shrugged. 

Dean deadpanned. “Sammy, have you ever seen him pick up chicks?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“The entire time we’ve known him, have you ever heard about him having a girlfriend?” 

“No, but he could just be a private person.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Well, I know I’m right.” 

“How’re you so sure?” 

“I’m his brother, I know him.” 

“I’m his brother, too, dumbass.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the baby. I’ve known him longer.” 

Sam scoffed and shook his head. Dean threw his hands up dramatically. 

“Why don’t we just ask him?” Dean asked as he walked closer to the couch.

“Dude, he’s sleeping,” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

“And? It’s almost five o’clock. He needs to wake his ass up and introduce us to his boyfriend,” 

Sam opened his mouth to say something else but found it difficult in his drained state. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he watched Dean move to the end of the couch where (Y/N)’s head rested. Dean went to say something but stopped himself. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and took a picture of (Y/N) and his mystery man. Dean chuckled deeply, chest rumbling. 

“Real mature,” Sam mumbled. 

“Oh, come on, I need it for blackmail later,” Dean replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Dean leaned back down, placing his hands on his knees, as he got closer to (Y/N)’s face. “(Y/N),” Dean said in a quiet singsong voice. “(Y/N),” he sang a little louder. 

(Y/N) hummed. 

“Time to get up, buddy,” Dean couldn’t resist the smirk that appeared. 

“Five more minutes,” (Y/N) grumbled and turned his head away from his brother. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean exclaimed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate off the walls. 

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide open, staring directly at Dean and Sam, filled with weariness and confusion. Dean stood up and backed away from him. He gave a small wave while Sam shot him a sympathetic look. (Y/N)’s gaze quickly shifted between his brothers as he blinked rapidly to wake himself up. He tried to sit up but remembered the heavy weight on his chest. He looked down at Quinn’s sleeping form. For a hunter, (Y/N) had to admit, Quinn was a heavy sleeper. He slapped Quinn on the shoulder.

“Quinn,” he said. 

Quinn whined. 

“Quinn,” he hissed. 

“Couple more minutes, babe,” 

(Y/N) closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, trying to will away the red tinge that fought its way onto his cheeks. He slapped Quinn’s shoulder again, a little harder that time. 

“Get up!” 

Quinn groaned and opened his eyes. “What?” He looked up at (Y/N). 

(Y/N) looked at him and gestured towards his brothers. Quinn turned his head and, immediately, his brows shot up, and he appeared more alert than ever. He sat up from his position on top of his boyfriend and scrambled to sit on the couch next to him. 

“Oh, um,” Quinn cleared his throat as he situated himself on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, hands folded together. 

(Y/N) sat up slowly, his body still riddled with sleep but progressively gaining a new feeling of anxiety. Of fear. He felt like a child that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Despite the looks on his brothers’ faces, which preached the opposite of how he was feeling, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the worst-case scenario. He was convinced, at that moment with his brain fogged with interrupted slumber, that he had just spent his last night in the bunker. 

“So…” Dean trailed before he gestured to Quinn. “Who’s this?” 

(Y/N) looked over at Quinn before he cast his eyes down to the ground. “Um…” he paused, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse. Trying to think of a lie that would sound convincing. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, nothing he thought of would work. His brothers would see right through it. 

Quinn watched (Y/N) and noticed how much he struggled with getting the words out. He licked his lips and sat up. “I’m Quinn, I’m his-” 

“He’s my boyfriend.” 

“I mean, I would hope he’s your boyfriend. I think the way you guys were practically sleeping inside each other was a bit too much for just friends,” Dean replied and chuckled. 

Sam sighed. “Dean, don’t be an ass.” 

“I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged. 

(Y/N) huffed before he slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “You know what, it’s too early for this. If you’re going to yell, go ahead and yell. Just get it out of your system. I’ll just go ahead and start packing,” (Y/N) turned to leave the room. Quinn was quick to stand. 

The smile vanished from Dean’s face for the first time since he discovered the two. “Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah,” Dean rushed over and gently grasped his brother’s arm to stop him. “Packing? Why?” 

(Y/N) halted and turned to his brother. “I just…I figured-” 

“What? That we would kick you out?” 

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked down. Dean’s frown deepened as Sam padded closer to them. 

“(Y/N),” Sam began. “We would never kick you out because of that. All because you have a boyfriend?” 

“Wait, so…” (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he fully turned his body so he was facing Sam and Dean. “You guys don’t care that I’m gay?” 

Dean immediately smacked Sam’s shoulder. “See? Told you! You owe me!” 

“Okay, okay, hold on,” (Y/N) ran his hands down his face and shook his head. He suddenly felt a strong, warm arm wrap across his shoulders. He glanced up to see Quinn standing by his side, holding onto him. A comforting smile was on his face. (Y/N) then looked back at his brothers. “You bet on me being gay?” 

“I said that you were gay. Sammy over here didn’t believe it for a minute.” Dean said smugly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t believe it. We just didn’t have anything to go off of.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“I knew from the moment he turned that hot blonde down at the first bar we went to,” Dean nodded. 

“Yeah, right,” 

“I did! She was hot! He would have been stupid to turn him down if he was straight, which he isn’t.” 

“He could have also had a type Dean.” 

“Type my ass, that girl was everyone’s type,” 

While his brothers bickered in front of him, (Y/N) watched them, mouth agape. Next to him, Quinn chuckled. He pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. 

“How’re you feeling?” He whispered in his ear. 

(Y/N) looked at him for a second before he stared back at his brothers, mouth still open, words seemingly unable to form. He was too in shock to think of anything to say. He was so busy convincing himself that his brothers would negatively view him after he came out to them that he never took into consideration the possibility of them being supportive. It was then he began to think of all the things they had supported him in through the years. They were always with him, always had his back, and he always had theirs. Sure, they had their fights, they had their moments, but they always came back together. They always talked it through. 

In the end, he felt like a fool for thinking they would kick him out. 

“Look, I need to ask something,” Sam chimed up, his attention now turned towards his eldest brother. 

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered up at him. He closed his mouth, feeling that it had gone dry. 

“(Y/N), what did we do to ever make you think we would kick you out? And, whatever it is, I’m sorry that we came across that way.” Sam continued.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we never meant to do anything that made you think you couldn’t tell us.” 

(Y/N) hesitated. “No, no, you guys, you guys didn’t do anything, um…it’s just…I…” Again, he was struggling to find the words to describe his thought process. 

“He was projecting his own insecurity onto the situation,” Quinn said, nodding. 

(Y/N) ran his tongue over his teeth and pursed his lips. He looked up at Quinn and gave him a tight smile. “You know, Quinn, that couch was pretty comfy, right?” 

Quinn furrowed his brows at the statement. “Uh, yeah, I guess it was?” 

“Would you like to sleep on it for the rest of your visit?” 

Dean snorted and Sam pressed his lips into a thin line to hide the grin he was holding back.

“Uh, nope, no, I’m okay,” 

“That’s what I thought,” (Y/N) shook his head and turned to his brothers. “No, guys, you didn’t do anything wrong. I guess…I don’t know, with the way that Dad was with us growing up, a part of me was afraid that that part of him would have rubbed off on you guys. I was severely overthinking it and I let the fear of what Dad would think overshadow how you guys truly are.” (Y/N) then looked back up at Quinn. “Was that a good way to describe it? Since it seems like you’re my shrink now?” 

“That was wonderfully put, babe,” Quinn grinned widely. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. 

Sam chuckled. “Hey, I get it, okay?” Sam smiled comfortingly. “I wish that you would have told us sooner, but I’m glad we know now. Just know that we still love you, (Y/N), no matter who you date.” 

“Unless you were dating a demon,” Dean interjected. “Or Crowley. Crowley is off limits.” 

“Crowley isn’t my type anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that,” (Y/N) chuckled. “My type is more of a Midwest-Country hunter.” (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Quinn’s middle. 

Quinn looked down at him with a small smile on his face. A couple of seconds ticked by before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh! You mean me!” 

(Y/N) deadpanned. “A Midwest-Country hunter who’s also an idiot at times.” 

“But I’m your idiot.” 

“Unfortunately,” 

“Hey!” 

“You guys are so cute,” Dean paused. “Makes me want to throw up.” He grimaced. 

“So, wait, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah! We met two years ago. I joined you guys on a hunt in Ohio. Columbus?” 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they both shook their heads. 

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. “We see a lot of hunters while we’re out, and two years is a long time.” 

Quinn waved him off. “I get it, don’t worry.” 

“Only gives us more of a reason to get to know you,” Sam mumbled before a yawn erupted from his mouth. “But not tonight. How long are you staying for?” 

“About a week,” Quinn shrugged. “If that’s alright, of course.” 

“Yeah, yeah, no worries man. As long as you stay the Hell out of my room,” Dean fought back his yawn. 

“Noted.” Quinn chuckled. 

“Alright, well, it was nice meeting you, again, but we’re hitting the hay. The drive back was brutal.” 

“Why are you guys back so early anyway? You never said anything.” (Y/N) asked. 

“Well, you see, Garth-” Dean began. 

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “We’ll explain when we get up. We need to get to bed and I don’t need to hear him complain anymore tonight. He’s been doing it all night.” 

“Hey, I have not complained all night.” 

“All night he has done nothing but complain.” 

“I have not!” 

Sam and Dean squabbled as they shuffled out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he listened. 

“Goodnight!” He hollered once their voices started to soften. 

There was a pause before both brothers simultaneously shouted, “Goodnight!” back. 

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head. Suddenly, he felt Quinn wrap an arm around his waist, pulling his body close. (Y/N) turned and tilted his head to look up at him. Quinn rested his forehead against (Y/N)’s, their noses brushing against one another. 

“Is it too late to say ‘I told you so’?” Quinn asked in a quiet, low voice. 

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Well, it’s not too late for you to still sleep on the couch.” 

Quinn snorted, his chest rumbling with his chuckle. “You love me too much to do that.” 

“I guess,” 

“You guess?” Quinn asked, his hands moving from (Y/N)’s back to his stomach. “You guess?” 

(Y/N) tried to jerk away, but found that Quinn had a strong grasp on him. “Quinn,” he warned. 

“You guess?” Quinn repeated before his fingers began to dance over (Y/N)’s stomach. 

(Y/N) tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up inside his throat, but it was all to no avail. His attempts to move away from Quinn were futile as the laughs echoed in the room. Quinn had a goofy grin on his face.  

“Quinn, stop!” 

“Do you love me?” 

“Yes!” 

“Say it!” 

“Dammit! I love you, you idiot!” 

As soon as (Y/N) spoke, the tickling seized. The laughter died down and Quinn wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him into a tight embrace. He began to litter (Y/N)’s face with kisses. 

(Y/N) grimaced. “Stop it!” He whined, smiling. 

Quinn let out a content sigh, pressing a final kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” 

“What?” 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“For what?” 

Quinn pulled back so that he was able to look his boyfriend in his eyes. “For telling your brothers. For letting yourself be vulnerable like that. Now that’s the man I want to be with. The strong, badass, sometimes vulnerable hunter that is confident in himself. I can already see a change in you as soon as they told you they accepted you.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

(Y/N) tilted his head to the side and looked up deep into Quinn’s eyes with much love and adoration. He leaned up and gently pressed a kiss against his lips. Quinn closed his eyes and kissed him back immediately. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt sparks as they kissed, as if they were kissing for the first time all over again. It made his chest flutter and his stomach stir with butterflies. It reinforced the idea that Quinn loved him, and he loved Quinn. They were with each other through thick and thin. Quinn was, indeed, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

As they parted, they stared longingly into each other’s eyes, the passion never waning as Quinn reached a hand up to caress (Y/N)’s cheek. 

“What do you say we go back to your room and cuddle? It’s still pretty early,” Quinn suggested. 

“I like that idea. But no more sleeping on top of me.” 

“Aw, come on, but you’re so comfy. How about we take turns? Now you can sleep on top of me.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “It’s a deal.”