#I don't think I'll continue this one so here you go

[dark-night-hero]

"Have people ever told you, you remained them of golden?" You asked out of the blue causing Kaiser to look up from the book he was staring at. Yes, staring. It was not like he could focus on the book he was supposed to be reading when you had your back on him in the kitchen making stuffs he would probably have no choice but to eat because you ended up making too many. Not that he would complain verbally though.

"No. But I heard people telling me blue remained them of me." If it was just another people, he wouldn't bother answering, let alone put his attention into them. But this was you, it was you talking and making him his snack because it happened to be one of his day off from the field. He would never admit it, but looking at your back often puts him at ease because you are here. And your presence alone is enough.

"That's strange." You chuckle and he shift in his seat, taking a more comfortable position in the couch as he continue to look at your back. The way your shoulder go up and down with your silent laughter. And then you look back at him, he was no coward so he just kindly stares back at you. There was no use in looking away when he would end up looking at you again.

"You're like gold... dazzling, hard to get your hands on, and worth every penny! Have I ever told you how luck I am to have you?" You smiled at him before turning your attention back into what you were doing in the kitchen. And he just kind of stares at you dumbfounded, unable to reply, make a rebut, too flustered at the sudden compliment statement.

And to his embarrassment, to his already flushed face, you aren't done yet. "I don't think anyone would understand just how precious and timeless gold is, like you are. Your beauty, your temper, your attitude..." You pause and look back at him with a gentle look on your face before giggling. "Your personality, your love... it all reminds me of the radiant glow of gold." Giving him one last took with the most gentle and loving look reflected in your eyes. Kaiser felt loved. He felt wanted.

Before you knew it, you almost jump in your feet as you felt a presence behind you only to relax knowing who it was. Titling your face to the side but keeping your eyes on the food right in front of you as you felt his arms wrapped around your waist. "I'll be done in a minute darling-" kiss. You were cut off with a peck on the lips, looking into your lover with wide eyes only to froze when you looked into his eyes and saw so much, so much love in them. And then you smile and give him another peck before turning off the stove, his arms still wrapped around you. "I think they got burned a little." "It's alright, I could eat that." Ich liebe dich

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

[the-ace-with-spades]

My train ride thoughts:

You know all those memory loss fics where they have an accident and forget the past five years they've been married and still think they're rivals? Can we move it slightly to the left and reverse a bit?

Jake and Bradley dated from 2006 to 2010. Bradley did the breaking up - in a brilliant act of self-sabotage, not because he didn't love him, but because he loved him enough to think Jake deserved someone better than Bradley.

Fast forward to 2017 and the mission training - Jake is the one to have an accident, not Javy, and has to eject. He has a head injury (among other things) and is medavac'ed.

He won't fly the mission, but he's mostly okay. However, the first thing Jake asks Javy when they finally let him see him is, "Where is Bradley? Why is he not here? Did something happen to him?" which opens a whole other can of worms.

Turns out, Jake thinks it's the summer of 2010, about three months before he and Bradley had broken up. He didn't say anything in front of the medical staff because his mind still thinks DADT is in place and he doesn't want any of them in trouble. So Javy has to break it to him that 1) it's 2017, which Jake's reply to that is just, Yeah, you looked kinda old (rude!) and 2) well, DADT no longer exists and no one can officially penalize him for being gay.

Which is enough to make Jake cry. And Javy doesn't continue with the whole 'So, Bradley broke up with you 7 years ago' because Jake starts mumbling different things like, We can get married. Oh god, are we married already? Where's my ring? Did I lose it in the accident? Where's Bradley, why did they not call my Next of Kin?

Because, you know, even in 2010 he thought he and Bradley are forever, surely they must still be together and probably married. Which, Javy shouldn't be surprised because he knows Jake had a whole wedding planner, children's names list, house decor theme, and god knows what prepared for them.

And Javy is not going to break his heart, AGAIN, so he chickens out and instead calls a nurse to tell her all about Jake's amnesia. They take Jake away for more tests and exams and just as he is rolled away, he shouts at Javy to 'Tell Bradley I'm okay when he comes in, he worries so bad when hospitals are involved'.

So Javy calls Bradley. Just calls him and tells him to come to the hospital and tell amnesiac Jake they've broken up because he's not explaining it to Jake himself. In truth, Javy doesn't even know why Bradley broke up with Jake but he didn't give him a reason beyond 'we just don't match' and Javy had been also pretty sure Bradley was as much of a goner as Jake and he hates Bradley for making him be so wrong.

Javy avoids the topic as much as he can, but he's not actually expecting Bradley to show up - why would he care now, right? - but just as Jake starts drilling the question, Bradley steps into the room..

Not only does he step in, he lets Jake hug him straight away

Bradley's also brought a bag of clothes and they must be his own because where the heck would he find Jake's and, oh, look at that, that's Texas Cowboys pajamas and Jake asks, "I still have this thing? God, it's so worn out," and Javy chokes on his own tongue. Sure enough, there's a mix of t-shirts that must belong to both Jake and Bradley and a new pair of sweats and those socks must be Bradshaw's because there's no way Jake would wear plane-themed socks.

"Do you have my wedding ring? Or did I lose it forever somewhere in the field?" Jake asks and Bradshaw looks spooked before the bastard recovers and covets under Jake's sad eyes and say, "No, you didn't, our rings are still in the locker room on the base."

And Javy just--stares at him.

"I promise I'll bring them tomorrow."

Javy stares harder.

Why did you not tell him? is what Javy spits out as soon as they leave the room and Bradley's reply is just Why didn't you, huh? and they just stand there pointing at each other like in the Spiderman meme.

Well, Bradshaw will have to explain himself because he sure as hell isn't going to magically produce wedding rings tomorrow morning.

And Javy is proven fucking wrong again because Bradshaw brings TWO wedding rings, with their NAMES engraved and a little thin band with Jake's birthstone that matches the wedding band perfectly.

Javy is speechless but Jake just shines with, oh, they're so pretty, put it back on me, I knew I have good taste.

And Bradshaw is all innocent when he says, "Actually, I chose them. They're made from my parents' melted wedding rings."

And Javy can't tell if he made that up on the spot or not. [He did not.]

And so the lies fucking go on. Jake is discharged, but not for flying, and to keep up the little charade, Javy packs all his things and brings them to Bradshaw's place - where Jake will be staying until they come back from the mission.

And of course, Bradshaw and his--whatever his issues with Maverick are make it onto the Dagger Team. Javy can only imagine the tearful goodbye 2010 Jake would give his married man, sweet husband Bradley.

"You've gotta fucking come back because if you don't, he's going to fucking find out he's not your husband when the will comes out."

And Bradshaw, just like that, replies, "He's the only person in my will anyway."

(Dunno how this would end tho, this is where I had to change trains and I forgot after...)

[that-hazbin]

Sorta AU/story idea where Alastor's a serial killer but he doesn't... completely realize that he's a serial killer.

He's super mentally Not Okay with a whole load of traumatic baggage, and sometimes when he gets past a stress threshold, he sort of... blacks out. Not faint, exactly, but his body moves on autopilot while his consciousness is just. Not there.

The first time it happened, he was fourteen. His father had beaten him black and blue, and left him limp on the floor to go beat Alastor's mother. When Alastor came to the realization that his mother stopped moving, his vision went blurry.

When he regained consciousness, his father was on the floor, bleeding from the head, eyes glazed over. It looked like he fell and hit himself on the corner of the dining table. Alastor lost both his parents on the same day.

After that, Alastor started having "episodes" a bit more often. A majority of the time, he manages to get home, and when he wakes up, he's hiding under his bed or in his closet, confused as to how he even got home. He doesn't want to be admitted into an asylum, of course, so he keeps quiet about this.

Sometimes, though?

Sometimes, he'll wake up knee deep in water, staring into the dark of a bayou. Sometimes, he'll wake up half-submerged in his bath, red going down the drain, with no clue as to where he's injured. Sometimes, the person who was screaming at him before the episode hit just went... missing the next day.

Alastor keeps quiet.

Naturally, when Alastor dies, he goes to hell. He doesn't remember the crimes, but he did commit them regardless. Of course, when people ask him what he did to end up down there, he can't give a real answer. The truth of the matter is that he doesn't know. Sure, he has... suspicions. Theories. But he doesn't know.

Things happen. He has several black out episodes in Hell before they simply stop happening, because he's stressed all the time and he can't just block every single second of every day from memory. He learns how to consciously survive in hell. Makes a name for himself.

Things roughly stay truthful to canon from there.

Then, one day, Charlie has a brilliant idea for a hotel activity. Part of redemption means acknowledging what brought you to hell to begin with, and what you can do now to make up for those actions! They go around the room, talking about the sins they committed, and what they can do now to improve. Alastor fully intends to stay out of the activity, he's not working towards redemption after all, but... Of course, Lucifer has to taunt.

Lucifer: What, you're just gonna sit around judging us?

Charlie: Er, dad—

Alastor: Hilarious coming from you, your majesty, truly. In any case, your memory seems to be failing you, I'm not here for redemption. I have no reason to participate.

Lucifer: Uh huh, neither is the bartender or the maid, you think you can be exempt just because you're staff? I'm the King of Hell and you don't see me skipping out. And here I would've thought you would have taken the chance to brag about the fucked up shit you did up there.

Charlie: Hey, guys, I don't think—

Alastor: Husk and Nifty are grown adults who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions. I am also a grown adult, and my decisions don't need to reflect theirs.

Lucifer: Oh, I see, you're a coward then?

Alastor: Believe whatever you want to, it makes no difference to me.

Lucifer: Sure it doesn't. Why don't we make this a game, huh? I'll guess your sins, and you stop me when I get it right.

Charlie: Dad, Alastor—

Lucifer: Can't imagine you fucked before marriage or anything, I mean, you scream prude. Bet you died a virgin.

Alastor: Hah, I wouldn't know. Are you done with your childish taunts, or are you going to allow your daughter to continue?

Lucifer stops dead, both because of the reminder that he's interrupting Charlie's activity, and also because he's replaying Alastor sentence back in his head. And, as the father of lies himself, he realizes that Alastor... wasn't lying when he said he didn't know.

Charlie: Great, yes, thank you Alastor! So, anyways—

Lucifer: Wait.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Seriously, wait. Bellhop, what the fuck do you mean you wouldn't know?

Angel: ... Oh shit.

Alastor: ... Charlie, continue your activity.

Charlie: Uh.

Lucifer: Oh, FUCK YOU! No, what the fuck did you mean by that?! What, were you like, drugged or—

Angel: HEY LET'S TALK ABOUT MY DEEP DARK PAST AS A MEMBER OF A MAFIA FAMILY!

Charlie: YES THANK YOU ANGEL LET'S TALK ABOUT IT! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR VOLUNTEERING!

Alastor gets the fuck out of dodge, and Lucifer finally gets the hint that he definitely stepped on a landmine that he very much should have not touched. Unfortunately, Lucifer alongside everyone in the hotel are left with a misunderstanding regarding Alastor's history.

[starlost-maniac]

My Significant Bother - Ch 2

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (don't do it), mxf, mxm, some angst if you squint, unrequited love(?), Mean Jisung (kinda?) I probably missed some (I'll eventually remember all the tags -_-)

Pairing: MinSung x fem!reader

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

dividers made by @cafekitsune

"Minho.." You look at your boyfriend, shocked.

"The delivery guy was being a creep, hyung. He was coming into the house and she called for me. Since you were in the shower, I pretended to be her boyfriend and the creep wanted proof." Jisung wipes his mouth again.

"It's not a problem, Ji. Thank you for protecting kitten for me." He smiles at you both, stepping closer to you.

"You aren't mad?" You look at him as he stops in front of you.

"Why would I be mad? Jisung was keeping you safe when I was unavailable." He leans down and kisses your head softly. "Let me go and get dressed, and we can eat dinner. Ji, can you bring the food to the living room and find a movie or something?" He asks, looking at his friend. The boy nods, making sure the door is locked before grabbing the pizza boxes and heading to the living room. Minho pats your ass softly before turning around to go back to his room to dress. You stare after him before going into the living room, sitting on the couch opposite of where Jisung planted himself.

"Thank you, Jisung." You say quietly. You were thankful he helped, but now you were a bit confused. His kiss didn't feel like he was doing it just to help you.

"Don't mention it." He says, flipping through movies on Netflix. You stare at the TV until Minho comes back out and sits between you two. Once a movie is decided, you all eat and watch the TV, cleaning up afterwards. Jisung goes off to take a shower while you do the little bit of dishes that were piled next to the sink. Minho comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself against your back.

"You feeling ok, kitten? You've been quiet." He kisses the back of your head.

"Yeah, just never had anyone be that much of a creep before. Made my skin crawl and I was scared. I couldn't call for you and I didn't think Jisung would help me." You sigh as you wring out the sponge, turning off the water afterwards.

"Just because you two fight, doesn't mean he won't help, kitten. He's still a decent human being." He kisses your temple. You nod, smiling when your boyfriend starts peppering your cheek with kisses. You laugh and squirm in his hold. He moves his arms and picks you up. "Let's get this kitten to bed. I'm sure she's tired." He carries you off to bed, playfully tossing you onto his mattress. You laugh out and turn onto your back, smiling up at him. He smiles and slips his shirt off and climbs into bed with you. He hovers over you a bit, looking into your eyes before he leans down and kisses you ever so softly.

You move one hand to his cheek as you close your eyes, the other lays on his chest, his skin warm against yours. He moves his free hand down to the bottom of the shirt you stole from him, slipping his hand under it to place his hand on your stomach. He kisses you deeper, gently nipping at your lower lip. Just as he slips his tongue in your mouth, Jisung knocks on the door. Minho let's a 'hmm?' escape his throat and the younger boy pops his head in a bit.

"Is it cool if I sleep in here? My room is cold and I can't find the extra blankets."

"Mhmm." Minho continues to slide his hand up your stomach a bit, the shirt not lifting far enough to show your skin off. You lightly tap his chest when he gives Jisung the ok, but Minho just chuckles. Jisung walks in and over to the bed, somehow oblivious to what's going on. He lays down next to Minho and stares at the ceiling. Your boyfriend grins into the kiss before pulling away, moving his head down to playfully bite at your nipple through his shirt. You gasp and moan softly, giving him a light tap again.

"Hyung..?" Jisung says after a moment of silence.

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Mm..just teasing kitten a bit. Nothing bad." He laughs out.

"Uh-huh." He's quiet for another moment. "Should..should I leave?" He starts to sit up. Minho chuckles and lays down.

"No. I'm done." He laughs and pulls the blanket up, covering you up, Jisung lays back down and pulls the blanket up as well. Jisung turns onto his side, facing away from you and Minho, not wanting his friend to feel that his dick was hard from your moan.

——

It's been nearly a month since Jisung started working at the same company as you. He was surprisingly very good at the job, and even more surprising, he was easy to work with. Your coworkers loved working with him as well. You were typing away on your computer, answering emails when Jisung came next to your desk.

"So, how do they do birthdays here? Cause I caught wind that both Felix's and Seungmin's birthdays were on the weekend."

"Usually we get a cake for the floor, obviously one big enough to accommodate around 30 people." You sit back in your chair. "Felix and Seungmin didn't want anything extravagant this year, so per their request, we didn't celebrate. Still wished them a happy birthday though. Chan may or may not celebrate his with us as his is coming up."

"Hmm." Jisung nods. "Speaking of birthdays, did Minho say anything about celebrating his birthday this year?"

"Not really. We might just go out for dinner and a movie. It's what he likes to do." You run your fingers through your hair, the scent of your shampoo wafts up to Jisung's nose. He inhales it deeply but quietly. "We may go to the animal shelter to see the cats. He loves to see them." You smile softly, thinking about how cuddly he gets when he plays with the cats and kittens.

Jisung nods. "Sounds like fun." He stands there for a moment longer, enjoying the scent of your shampoo.

"Is there…anything else I can do for you, Jisung?" You look up at him. He stares down at you, doe eyed. He shakes his head and goes back to his desk. The rest of the work day goes by with nothing exciting happening. Minho picks you and Jisung up and brings you home. You do your regular routine of taking your makeup off and changing into comfortable clothes, this time opting for a longer style crop top and sleep shorts. You go and sit on the living room couch, legs tucked underneath you. You scroll on your phone quietly as Jisung sits on the recliner off to the side.

"Do you two want anything specific for dinner tonight, or should we just order something? I'm kinda in the mood for Chinese." Minho calls down the hall from the bathroom.

"Chinese sounds good, baby." You call back, Jisung seconds it.

"Ooh, sounds like you two are finally starting to agree on things." Minho teases.

"It's food, hyung. Chinese is also always a good option." Jisung reclines the chair, scrolling on his own phone. He occasionally sneaks a glance at you. Minho comes out and sits next to you, quickly ordering the food, knowing exactly what you and Jisung like. He tosses his phone on the couch and pulls you into his lap. You giggle and peck his lips.

"Hi baby." You kiss the tip of his nose.

"Hi kitten." He smiles up at you. "How was work today?"

"Same as usual. The guys get along with Jisung. He's surprisingly good at the job." Jisung complains from his seat. Minho laughs, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing your bare skin with his thumbs.

"Are you two getting along more though?" Minho looks between you two.

"Gotta be for the job. Especially since I'm the team leader." You raise your arms above you and stretch. Your shirt lifting just enough for Minho to see the underside of your breasts. Jisung watches you, just barely able to see the view Minho has. He leans over in his seat, resting his head in his hand, making it seem like he was getting comfortable.

Your boyfriend grins and brings his hands up to gently cup the underside of your chest. You laugh a bit and lower your arms, your shirt now bunched up some on his wrists. He gently squeezes the mounds.

"Can I help you, baby?" You ask, smiling at him.

"Mm, no. I think I'm good." He grins more, gently squeezing again before slipping his thumbs up to your nipples. He gives them a quick swipe, making the sensitive nubs harden. You give him a look that says 'really?' and shake your head. Jisung watches from his seat. He positioned himself where it looks like he's looking at his phone, but he can still see what Minho is doing.

"Jisung is still right there, baby." You place your hands on Minho's arms.

"He's too busy with his phone." His eyes flick to his friend. "Ji?"

"Hmm?" He focuses on his phone.

"See, kitten. He's not paying attention." Minho leans forward and kisses your breasts through your shirt. "Plus, it's not like you don't like being watched." He chuckles. Jisung feels his dick twitch in his shorts, gaze flicking back up to you and Minho. The older one sits back, catching that Jisung is watching. He grins and chuckles, playfully pulling your shirt up a bit more, uncovering up to just under your nipples.

"That's true, but I'd rather he not be the one watching." You state. Minho leans forward again, softly nipping at your skin. He chuckles when you let out a quiet moan. He lifts your shirt and tucks his head inside, kissing your breasts softly, effectively distracting you. You move your hands up to his shoulders, eyes closing. Jisung carefully adjusts himself in his shorts as he watches over his phone. Minho kisses and licks around your nipple, teasing you. You moan softly, head tilting back some.

Minho chuckles, his breath warm against your skin, goosebumps spreading across your skin. Minho flattens his tongue against your breast and licks slowly across your nipple. You gasp softly and moan again as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He slowly licks and sucks on your bud, enjoying the sounds you make.

Jisung lowers his phone, watching more obviously, thankful that you can't see him. He jumps when he hears a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." He mumbles, standing up. Minho grunts and switches to your other nipple, licking and sucking on your skin. Your head falls back more as you grip his head under your shirt. Jisung goes to the door, trying to get his hard on to go away. He opens it, and it's the delivery driver. He pays for the food and gives a tip, taking the bags before shutting the door. He locks it and walks back out to the living room, setting the bags down on the coffee table.

"Food is here, hyung." He settles back in his chair. Minho let out a 'mm' as he was still in your shirt, ravaging your breasts. Jisung watches as he pulls the food out of the bags and sets them on the table. He scrunches his brows together when you moan out as Minho's nips your nipples. Minho lifts your shirt, uncovering your breasts before pulling his head away and recovering your chest. Jisung was able to get a nice view of your breasts because of that.

Jisung clears his throat and looks away as Minho carefully moves you off his lap, his shorts sporting a tent. He grabs your food and hands it to you, looking at Jisung, he grins and winks—knowing how it was affecting his best friend—before he grabs his own and sits back.

"So hyung, your birthday is in a few weeks." Jisung says, turning the TV on.

"Mhmm." Minho pops a piece of chicken in his mouth.

"There anything you want this year?"

"Mmm.." Minho thinks, swallowing his food. He grins mischievously. "There's is something I want. But only if kitten is ok with it." Jisung looks at Minho and raises an eyebrow.

"Anything for you, baby." You smile and eat your food.

"What is that, hyung?" Jisung slowly eats his food, trying to keep his eyes on the tv.

"Remember what I said back on your birthday?" Jisung furrows his eyebrows, gaze shifting to Minho. "I want to see you and kitten go at it. I honestly think that you and her need a good fuck together to get all that pent up anger out of you. Plus.." he looks at you, your chopsticks sitting in your mouth as you stare at him, eyes wide and brows raised. "I'd still love to see my baby girl get railed by my best friend." His dick twitches in his pants at the thought. Jisung coughs at the request and looks at you. You were still staring at Minho, a confused look now on your face.

"Hyung, I still don't think that'll help any." Jisung says as soon as he stops coughing. You look over at Jisung. The images of him kissing you weeks ago come back to you. That night genuinely confused you. Jisung didn't kiss you like he hated you. He seemed to enjoy it. As the memories come back to you, the tips of your ears start turning red, and you're thankful that you left your hair down.

"Just think about it. I won't force you guys to do it, obviously, but just think on it for me." He smiles and continues eating his food. Jisung's eyes flick to you then down to his food. You look back at Minho, questioning him. Minho smiles gently at you, leaning down to softly peck your lips. "Only if you're comfortable with it, kitten." He whispers, pecking your lips again. He smiles and steals a piece of your food before offering you a piece of his.

You all end the night after cleaning up, Jisung going to his own room for the night, finally taking care of his aching cock. You and Minho go to his room for a long love-making session before bed.

——

"Y/nnie?" Felix waves his hand in front of your face, pulling you from your thoughts. You hadn't realized you zoned out and it was already time for lunch.

"Hi, Felix. Yes?" You look up at the blonde.

"Changbin-hyung, Hyunjin and I were going to head out for lunch. Jisung said he was eating here today, and we wanted to ask you if you were coming today." He smiles at you, his smile full of warmth.

"Oh, thank you Lixie, but I brought food today. I can come out tomorrow though?" You return the smile.

"Not a problem. You enjoy your lunch, ok?" He stands up straight and leaves the office, grabbing his jacket. You stand up and stretch, going to your office fridge to grab your food. Chan had mini kitchen areas put in each office to minimize food theft, which was a great idea in your opinion. Thankfully each office had space for it too.

You put your food in the microwave to warm it and take it to the couch in the office, usually used for customers to wait at. Just as you sat down, Jisung walks into the office, it seems he went to the building's cafeteria. He looks at you and nods a little, walking over to where you sat.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He points to the chair opposite from you, the coffee table between you. You shrug, not like you really can stop him from sitting there. He sits down and opens his container of food. You both eat silently for a few minutes. "So, hyungs birthday is in a week." He chances a glance at you.

"Mhmm." You nod, not looking at him as you eat.

"I…I think we should do what he requested..for his birthday." He says softly. You stop mid bite and look at him. You chew your food and swallow.

"Really? Why? You hate my guts, I hate yours." You wipe your mouth with a napkin.

"I just want hyung happy. Don't you?" His eyebrows scrunch a little. His statement makes you go quiet for a bit.

"No, I do. But I don't know. Fucking you isn't something I've thought of doing." It was a lie. Since the kiss that one night, you've thought about it a few times, but you couldn't let him know that.

"I mean, same." Also a lie. "But if it makes him happy, I'm willing to do it. He's my best friend after all." You sigh and nod.

"Yeah. I want him happy too. So, yeah. Let's do it." You watch him. Jising was honestly really excited about it, but he tried not to show it. He gets up and moves over to the couch next to you.

"We should..we should practice a bit. Get more comfortable with each other since we have a week till the big day." He gingerly puts a hand on your knee.

"Nothing too far since we are at work." You look at him, being stern. He nods and moves closer to you, your legs touching. He reaches up and cups your cheek, looking you in the eyes, his gaze flicking to your lips and back. He slowly leans closer to you, his gaze back on your lips. You feel your neck and ears getting warm with a blush, his breath against your lips before he softly slots his lips with yours.

You move a hand up to his chest, his hands sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck. He deepens the kiss a bit, licking your lips softly. You hesitantly open your mouth and he immediately slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cherries again, and you're thinking it's the chapstick he uses. He slowly makes out with you, taking his time with his tongue in your mouth. He groans a little bit before he softly bites your lower lip.

He pulls away, looking into your eyes when you open them. You were both breathing a little hard and he pulls away completely, his cheeks a little red. You nod and turn back towards the table in front of you. You feel your cheeks burning with a blush creeping up your neck.

"We should..uh..finish our lunch before the rest of the team gets back, yeah?" Jisung says, grabbing his food. You just nod again and eat your food silently. You feel Jisung staring at you the rest of the work day. When Minho picks you two up, he tells you that he's going to drop you and Jisung off at the house, and that he has to run out for a few things, but he will be back in a few hours. You tell him to be careful and that you'll see him when he gets home. You exchange a kiss and a smile and you get out of the car, following Jisung inside the house.

You've never been at the house alone with Jisung before. Minho was always there. You go to the bathroom and remove your makeup before going to Minho's room to change. You put on a pair of your sleep shorts and one of Minho's oversized shirts again. You pad out to the kitchen to find something for dinner. Pulling out leftovers, you warm them up in the microwave. You don't hear Jisung walk in, as you were zoning out again. He stares at you for a moment before stepping up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck, effectively startling you.

"What the fuck, Jisung?" You turn your head and bit to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Didn't mean to scare you, sorry." He mumbles against your neck. "Trying to get more comfortable again since we don't have to worry about our coworkers walking in." He kisses up your neck to under your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Just…give a warning next time, fuck." You close your eyes as he gently nips your skin. "No..no marks…not unless Minho says it's ok." You gasp out softly. Jisung just hums a confirmation.

"Can I..touch you?" He asks after a moment, gently squeezing your waist with his arms, fingers digging into your sides softly. You hesitate for a moment before nodding, letting out a whispered 'yes'. "I won't take anything off, I won't even look until Minho's birthday." He kisses across your neck again, sliding a hand to your breast. He gently squeezes your clothed breast, feeling your nipple start to harden through the fabric. He whispers 'so soft' against your neck, making you shiver again.

You bring a hand up to his head, gently gripping his hair as you lean back against his chest, he presses himself against you. Your cheeks flush when you feel his cock against your ass. He moves his head to the other side of your neck and starts leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along your warm skin. You let out soft, quiet moans, feeling his hands slide down your body to under the shirt you wear. His hands feel cool against your skin as he trails his hands up to your breasts. You physically shiver against him and he chuckles. Jisung gently cups your breasts, his breath shudders against you at the same time you gasp.

He quietly groans against your neck. He is resisting the urge to bite and mark you, as much as he wants to, he wants to respect your decision. Just as he starts to massage your breasts, the microwave beeps, indicating your food is done. It pulls you both back to where you are. Jisung pulls away, pulling his hands off you and stepping back. You shiver at the loss of his warmth.

"You should uh..you should eat. I'm going to um..I'm gonna go shower." Jisung mumbles out behind you before he turns and quickly leaves the kitchen. You stand in the same spot, cheeks and neck flushed. You blink a few times before stepping towards the microwave to grab your food. You sit at the kitchen island and eat. You clean up and sit in the living room, watching tv until Minho gets back. He greets you with a smile and you smile back. He holds up a bag from a store that sells expensive alcohol.

"Decided to get some for my birthday." He laughs out and goes to put everything away. You get up and follow him, helping to put things in their place. Jisung had finished his shower and went back to his room to get dressed. Once everything is put away, Minho turns to face you, a smile across his face. He picks you up and gently sits you on the counter, now having to look up at you.

"How was work today, kitten? Jisung didn't cause any trouble for you?" He steps between your legs, placing his hands on your hips. You shake your head, just as Jisung steps into the kitchen.

"When do I ever cause trouble, hyung?" He runs his fingers through his slightly damp hair, opening the fridge. He was shirtless again, just wearing a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips.

"All the time." You retort. "But no, he's been…pretty good at work." You play with your boyfriend's hair.

"What about while I was gone?" He looks towards his friend, whose head was still in the fridge.

"He was…ok. Didn't cause too much trouble." Your boyfriend laughs at that, turning back to you. He leans forward and softly starts kissing your throat. Jisung grabs some food out of the fridge, shutting the door before going to the microwave. Jisung looks at you then at Minho before looking at the microwave.

"Hyung?" He puts his food in to warm.

"Mhmm?" Minho kisses around your neck, kissing your jaw.

"Y/n and I..we thought about what you said. About what you wanted for your birthday." He watches his food spin in the machine.

"Mhmm." Minho gently bites the crook of your neck, making you moan softly, leaving a small hickey there. You don't catch it, but Jisung's cock twitches in his pants.

"We both decided that..we will do it for you. We both want you happy, and if this makes you happy, then we will." Jisung turns around a bit, so his growing bulge won't be visible.

"I want you guys to do this too, because you want to." Minho bites your skin again. "Don't do it solely for my sake." He starts to slide his hands up your borrowed shirt, making you shiver. Jisung just hums out an 'ok'.

"I'm going to go eat in my room. I'll see you both in the morning." Jisung grabs his food from the microwave and goes back to his room, not shutting the door all the way. Minho slips the shirt off you, looking you over, just marveling at you. You smile at him, watching his eyes trail across you. He starts to tug at your shorts, pulling them and your panties off when you lift your hips.

"Gonna fuck you right here, kitten. Missed your pussy all day." He pulls you towards the edge of the counter. He undoes his pants, pulling them and his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans when the cool air hits his shaft. He slides one hand between your legs, slipping two fingers into your cunt, smirking at how wet you are. You close your eyes and moan out. He slowly starts to finger you, pumping his cock with his other hand. He pulls his fingers out and puts his tip at your entrance.

"You ready for me, kitten?" He slips his tip into you.

"Y-yes, baby." You wrap your legs around his hips as he slides into you slowly.

"So nice and warm for me.." he mumbles as he slides his length into you. He kisses you deeply once he bottoms out. "My good little kitten." He whispers against your lips. You shiver and moan his name softly. He chuckles. Holding your hips, he slowly starts to thrust into you. You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning his name out again. He leans down and sucks on your neck again. Picking up the pace of his hips, he grinds into you, his cock rubbing against your clit at the angle he grinds in at.

You gasp and arch your back, the knot in your belly tightens quickly. You moan out as you clench around Minho. He grins and chuckles against your neck. He sucks on your neck, fucking into you hard and deep.

"My good little kitten. Such a good girl." He leaves a large hickey on your collarbone. You arch your back and moan his name loud as you cum, clenching hard around Minho's cock. He groans against your neck as he thrusts deep once more before cumming in you. He thrusts into you a few more times as he empties inside you. You lay your head on his shoulder and breathe hard. Minho gently rubs your sides, hips and thighs, your legs still wrapped around him as he was still buried deep inside you.

"How about a shower, kitten? Get you all nice and clean." Minho peppers your shoulder with soft feather-like kisses. You nod and let out a soft 'mhmm'. He smiles and gently picks you up off the counter as you tighten your grip on him. He grabs your laundry off the counter and walks out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. Just as Minho passes Jisung's door, the younger one opens it to bring his dishes out. Minho winks at him, holding you close to his chest.

Jisung's cheeks flush a bit when he notices you're naked. Your boyfriend enters the bathroom with you and sits you on the sink, your eyes closed as you were tired. He starts the shower and Jisung watches for a moment, looking both you and Minho over before he goes to the kitchen. Once the shower is ready, Minho undresses and picks you up again, stepping in with you. Jisung goes back to his room, another tent in his pants. Once Minho cleans you up, he washes himself up before getting you both ready for bed. You cuddle up to him and fall asleep quickly.

Tag list

@tenshimara

[supper-ansuta-broth]

Hey guys!

As of the most recent Akatsuki event, fans of Ensemble Stars! across the globe have begun voicing their anger with the distasteful, ignorant, and outright bigoted nature of the franchise's story as a whole (most prominently (but not exclusively) its racist structure, undertones, plot points, and rhetoric). I have always been of the opinion that Happy Elements K.K. as a company is not worthy of respect, and wholly do not care about fans' and users' input, feelings, concerns, and criticisms. Time and time again, H.E. have not only put their own bottom line first, but have made it their only concern.

Needless to say, I am not only disappointed but infuriated with this company. While I am an optimist who hopes to see the best come from any situation, this is not one of the cases where this would be a realistic outlook. Because of this, posts on here will likely be infrequent, as I don't want anyone to believe that even for a moment I think their decisions are excusable.

That being said, while I encourage everyone to do their part in reminding H.E. over and over how much harm they've caused and the colossal damage they've done to their IP, I must also remind everyone that most of a gacha's game's profits come from the small percentage of its highest paying players (i.e. "whales"), and that H.E. has a long history of not listening to its playerbase's concerns and criticisms, even going as far as to silence them and block them for speaking up. They do not care what you think. They care about money, first foremost and only. Be active and speak up, don't support their shitty business practices, but don't run yourselves into the ground in the process of doing so, because at the end of the day they will continue trucking along-- they are too big to fail.

I encourage everyone to direct their focus towards fan creators, and send them as much of your kindness and love as possible. Support the people who create things due to passion and love, not just for money. Enstars has been lacking passionate stories for a long time anyway, with only a handful every now and again. Everyone who creates anything, no matter their skill level, deserves compassion and support. And if you're someone who wants to create something but fears mediocrity, create it anyway. Every great artist was consistently mediocre until they grew enough in their skill to start producing some things they like.

Additionally, this is in no way the fault of the seiyuu, the employees of H.E. who are not in charge of making decisions for the story, or anyone else who isn't directly involved with the meat of what makes Enstars, Enstars. These people are not to blame. Direct your ire towards the writers, the executives, and anyone else who allows these decisions to pass.

That's all I have to say for now. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask. I can't guarantee I'll get around to everything in a timely manner, but I assure you I will answer anything I can. Thank you for reading.

[irisintheafterglow]

NOW PLAYING...IRIS' ROM-COM SPECIAL (20s)

SELECT YOUR LOVE INTEREST:

THE SWEETHEARTS: kirishima eijiro, todoroki shoto, iwaizumi hajime, bachira meguru, umemiya hajime, kaminari denki. THE PLAYBOYS: gojo satoru, hoshina soshiro, kuroo tetsurou, takami keigo/hawks, miya atsumu. THE BROODERS: sakusa kiyoomi, bakugo katsuki, suna rintaro, roronoa zoro, itoshi sae. THE WILDCARDS: nanami kento, miya osamu, itoshi rin, geto suguru, todoroki touya.

SELECT YOUR SCREENING:

1. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU - A newcomer underclassman crushes on your sister, and pulls some strings to get you to go out with the reckless bad boy that is oddly charming. STARRING: ITOSHI RIN 2. LEGALLY BLONDE - Your boyfriend breaks up with you because he's going to law school, so you follow him. What do you do when he decides it's over, even when you're there? Fall for your professor's junior partner, of course! STARRING: NANAMI KENTO 3. THE PROPOSAL - Your boss asks you for a favor: marry him so he doesn't get kicked from the country. The problem? You're going with him when he proposes to you on holiday at his family home. STARRING: GOJO SATORU 4. 27 DRESSES - You're a bridesmaid for hire whose boss falls in love with your sister. And she wants you to plan her wedding. And the guy who helped you not get a concussion is stupidly cute. STARRING: ITOSHI SAE 5. SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE - For the record, he doesn't believe in love anymore. But, to appease his son, he talks to the reporter on the radio. Now he has a choice to make: does he risk it all to meet you on Valentine's Day? STARRING: BAKUGO KATSUKI 6. WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING - You fell in love with the cute guy that always passes you at work. When an accident puts him in a coma and his family thinks you're engaged, what do you do when you fall for his brother instead? STARRING: RORONOA ZORO 7. HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS - As a writer, your next big project is to create a list of what traits make men lose romantic interest. Too bad your latest target is hellbent on winning a bet of his own: to make you fall in love. STARRING: MIYA ATSUMU // PART II: DENKI KAMINARI 8. THE WEDDING PLANNER - On the eve of celebrating your greatest career achievement, you're saved from imminent disaster by the man of your dreams. Unfortunately, he's engaged...and is hiring you to be his wedding planner. 9. ALWAYS BE MY MAYBE - On again, off again, you and your childhood best friend went separate ways in life. Back in your hometown for the opening of your first restaurant, you don't expect to see him again. Or expect to see that he's hot. STARRING: MIYA OSAMU 10. LA LA LAND - One was a burnt out actor. One was an aspiring jazz musician. Need I say more? STARRING: RORONOA ZORO 11. THE WEDDING DATE - You have the genius idea of hiring a male escort to accompany you to your sibling's wedding, and find there's more to him than his physique. STARRING: GETO SUGURU 12. 50 FIRST DATES - Whether it's a blessing or a curse, the effects of an accident on your brain cause you to fall in love with him again...and again...and again...and again...and... 13. TO ALL THE BOYS I'VE LOVED BEFORE - Your sister sends the letters you'd written to every boy you'd had a crush on. Fake dating and chaos ensues. STARRING: IWAIZUMI HAJIME // PART 2: TODOROKI SHOTO

TO RESERVE YOUR SEAT:

Send me an ask with your love interest and your rom-com title/number, and that's it! I'll add the character to this masterpost and tag you (unless you'd like to be anonymous!) on the final post. Click HERE to send your request!

Requests will continue to be taken until the end of January or all spots are full! (subject to change depending on demand) Tags for this event will all be under #irisromcomspecial

Edit as of 1/9/25 : If there are multiple requests for the same prompt, I'll write a prompt up to three times!

One character per rom-com please, but if you'd like to make multiple requests, feel free! Questions? Feel free to send an ask or leave a comment!

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:

EEK okay so this is my first ever event and it's for my birthday :) I'm a huge fan of rom-coms so I gathered some of my favorites of all time to apply some new characters to and hopefully make you want to watch (or rewatch) them too! I'm very excited to host this event and hopefully have some fun fics released in the process. Thank you all so much for your support on my blog, I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. Disney+ banner was made by me, heart dividers are by the wonderful @cafekitsune !

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 16: I Am Broken

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; dehumanization; beginnings of an anxiety attack, though it's not labeled as such; some negative self-talk (13)

Author's Note: Ok... one more then we'll get into 13 starting to spill the beans. She'll be ok - Simon's there now! I think I'm going to pause on 13's story for a bit, though. I've got things brewing about other OCs so I'm gonna get started on their stories uwu <3

When I open my eyes again... my head is still on Simon's lap. I adjust carefully so I can look up at him. His eyes are closed and his head is resting on the back of the couch.

"Simon," I call to him softly. "Hey," I say a bit louder and poke the center of his chest.

His lashes flutter and he opens his eyes. With a groan, he tilts his head to look down at me.

"What's wrong?" he asks in a voice rough with sleep.

"The way you're sleeping, mostly. C'mon. We should both go to bed."

As I sit up Simon's hand snakes around my waist, but over his blanket.

"No," he mumbles, "stay here."

What the hell is he on about? Damn, he needs more sleep.

"Simon," I call to him louder. "Wake up."

I reach out and gently poke his cheek through his mask. His eyes open wide at the contact and his breathing gets heavier. Slowly, with a shocked expression of my own, I slowly pull my hand away from his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to... freak you out. You ok?" I ask with a gentle voice.

"Fine," he says, shaking his head then letting out a heavy sigh. "Just not used to people touching my face."

"Right. Fair enough," I agree then get up from the couch to make my way to my room.

The smell of pancakes cooking wakes me in the morning. As I roll to get out of bed, though, I nearly roll on to Selene. She yawns at my sudden intrusion then gets up to stretch.

"Good morning to you too." I smile at her then run my hand over her back and up her tail, causing a small chirp to leave her. "I smell pancakes... but do you think your dad is making more bacon too?"

She blinks slowly at me in response and I give her a quiet laugh then truly make my way out of bed. When I reach the kitchen I pause in the archway for a moment.

Johnny's here. Making breakfast. And Simon's nowhere to be seen.

"Lass! Good morning! Simon had to run to grab a few things to make sure all five of us would be fed properly today," he chuckles then yawns. "I knew he'd call me over early so I showed up a few hours early. Hope you don't mind?"

"Not my house," I shrug and step up to the counter I continue to sit on while Simon cooks.

"Isn't it?" Johnny asks with a smile as his focus returns to the pancakes.

Unsure what he means by that, I hop on the counter and change the subject.

"So... what are the other two like?"

"Other two? Oh, you mean Cap and Kyle? Cap's a bit of a, uh," he leans towards me, like he's sharing a secret, "workaholic. I'll have to make some strong coffee all day to make sure he stays awake," he chuckles then straightens. "Kyle is a secret trouble maker, but he's a sweet heart. Would adopt and love all the kittens in the world, if given the chance, I think."

"What do you mean 'secret trouble maker'?" I push with an eyebrow raised.

"He's not as open about his chaotic nature as I am," Johnny says with a wink.

I nod, accepting his answer and glance around the kitchen. The kitchen feels... weird... without Simon here.

"Missing him?" Johnny asks suddenly with his eyes on the pancakes but a knowing smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Your alpha. Who else?" he asks with a laugh.

"My... hm. Well, is he, though? We haven't really... discussed any of that," I admit with a slight frown.

"You knew who I meant, though." He's got this smug look on his face, like he's just outwitted someone.

"Johnny, besides you, Simon's the only person I've actually met in the area," I remind him flatly.

Johnny's smug looks falters.

"True. Didn't think about that. I wanna go back to what you said, though. Haven't discussed what?"

"Him officially being my alpha and all that. I tried to initiate the conversation last night but I mentioned-"

My mouth snaps shut, remembering Simon's reaction to how Salvation handled the heats of the omegas they care for.

"I mentioned some things about Salvation and heats, but he... didn't take it well. Sliced his finger and just seemed so angry," I explain with a frown. "After we cleaned up the cut and I banaged it, he told me that all three of you would be here today. That all of you would listen to my story."

He stays silent for a while, removing pancakes from the pan and adding new batter.

"I won't ask for specifics. I'm sure I'll hear about it at some point, but, lass." He turns to me fully. The expression on his face reminds me of a puppy. "We're here for you. All of us - me, Cap, Kyle, and epsecially Simon. And there will be more on that list when you're ready."

Part of me wants to argue, but the rest of me just can't deny the adorable face he's making. So I sigh and nod my head.

"I appreciate it. I don't understand why that needs to be said, but I do appreciate it," I tell him softly and pick at the hem of the shirt of Simon's that I wore to bed last night.

"What's wrong, 13?" Simon says from the front door.

I can't see him and I can't smell him, but that was definitely his voice. Johnny smiles at me and nods in that direction so I slide off the counter and make my way to the front door.

There's multiple grocery bags hanging off of both of Simon's arms and I have to supress a laugh at the sight of him.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice serious.

"Nothing. Was just talking to Johnny. Let me take a few bags," I insist as I reach for his left arm.

"It'll put me off balance. I've got it," he says as he pulls his arm away. "Thank you, though," he adds like it's an after thought.

Then he shoos me to the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen. When he's done putting away the groceries, he joins me.

"Why did you think something was wrong?" I ask immediately from underneath the blanket he let me use last night.

"I could smell your distress," he says simply as he motions for me to come closer.

Confused, I slide closer and lay on my back with my head on his lap.

"You could... smell- I wasn't distressed, though." I frown up at him as his hand begins smoothing my hair back.

"You can't smell anything. Can you?" he asks softly.

"I can smell the pancakes just fine."

"I mean others' scents. You can't smell others. At least not well."

I consider what he's asking. It took being right up to him or wearing his clothes for me to know what he smelled like. Cinnamon and cedar, I can smell it now. But I don't know what Johnny smells like. And I couldn't tell him what anyone else smells like either.

"13," he calls to me and gently turns my head so I look directly at him. "What's going through your head?"

"I'm broken," I say softly. "I always knew I was, but... you're right. I can't smell anyone. I can only smell you if I'm close, like right now, or wearing something that you give me. I don't know what Johnny smells like-"

"Take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Do it with me," he instructs and begins doing so.

My eyes prick with tears but I follow his lead. When my eyes no longer hurt and my chest doesn't feel like there's cement in it, he speaks again.

"You're not broken, sweetheart. You've just been through things; a lot of things, I'm sure. Those things have not been kind to you. But I'm here to help you now. I'm here," he assures me, his hand still gently gliding over my hair. "Why you don't take a nap while we wait for the others? I'll stay right here with you, if you want."

His offer is tempting, but doesn't he have things he needs to do before Kyle and 'Cap' arrive?

"I think I'd rather shower then just... exist on the couch for a while. Until they get here. Selene can keep me company when I come back out."

Simon studies me for a moment and lets out a heavy breath.

"Alright, but if I detect even a hint of your distress, I'm either kicking down whichever door or coming back out here and-"

"Are you about to threaten me, the distressed omega?" I ask with a small smile.

"Yes," he nods. "I'm threatening you with being held and comforted."

Oh. That's... a different feeling. Set that aside for later, though...

For now I just get up, leaving the balnket on the couch, and make my way back to my room to gather clothes. I catch a glimpse of Johnny in the kitchen on my way through the house. He looks... so sad, but his focus is on the pancakes.

What I went through when I was with Salvation... was it really that bad?

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod

[xechu]

[Devour] Chapter 2: Yearning

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: please read my blog's rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, angst, eventual smut, hurt/no comfort, explicit sexual content, undertones of misogyny (because the 'olden days'), mature themes, depiction of gore and violence, mentions of pregnancy and abortion. Please note that these warnings pertain to the entire series as a whole, and not just to this specific chapter.

Tags: mini series, angst, smut, Heian Era, true form Sukuna

Summary: Sukuna brings you back to a temple, where he resides. There you also meet Uraume. You begin to doubt if running away was the best idea, but then, Sukuna offers to be your ally. Unbeknownst to you, he has his own ulterior motives for helping you.

A/N: It's here! Not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this chapter. Since this is a mini series, I would say we're already about 35% through the story, things will progress quickly in the upcoming chapters. Based on my planning, I'm looking at about four more chapters. I don't have an exact release date for Chapter 3 like I did with this chapter, but I'll post an update when it's almost complete! If you would like to be added on the tag list for this series, please let me know/leave a comment here. Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned. x

Masterlist: < Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 (To be continued) >

Sukuna had always deemed love meaningless. It was a feeling that held people back, making them irrational and reckless. Over the years, he had witnessed the greatest kingdoms burn and the strongest men fall, all in the name of 'love.' But the tragedy lay in the fact that, after all was said and done, that love seldom lasted. At the end of the day, people were weak and fickle, rendering love volatile. He often wanted to ask those who sacrificed everything for love: Was it all worth it in the end?

In order to attain his height of power—to become the strongest—Sukuna had given up everything, including his humanity. He had mastered the art of detachment, for attachments only served to tie one down. Letting go of all things was the inevitable cost of power, but it was an easy and insignificant sacrifice for someone like him—who had nothing to lose in the first place.

Yet, despite the King of Curses' strong convictions, there remained one glaring contradiction in his life: you. No matter how hard he tried, he could not detach himself from you. Even after all these years, his burning desire for you was a flame he could not quell, and it only seemed to grow hungrier with time.

Throughout the years, Sukuna had conditioned himself into believing that you were always going to be an unattainable dream—a fantasy that was never meant to become reality. It was better that it remained this way. You deserved to live a peaceful life, and he could continue to live out his days as the King of Curses without restraint.

But what should he do—now that his dream had become reality?

For someone with a wretched life like his, he never believed in any gods. But for the first time in his life, the King of Curses acknowledged that this reunion must have been the universe's divine will—a preordained fate. It seemed that the two of you were destined to be together.

Yes, he thought to himself, since the universe has willed it, then you shall be his exception.

He vowed that as long as he kept you by his side, you would not be a source of his weakness.

At this realization, a dark possessiveness took over him.

This time he would stake his claim.

---

Though you were no longer the little girl Sukuna had once met, he couldn't help but notice how small you were under his hold. Some things didn't change; you were still his little flower.

“It’s me, flower,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice as if he were calling into your subconscious, imploring you to remember.

You trembled in his embrace; the adrenaline coursing through you made it difficult to think straight. His words did not register as you struggled to gather your chaotic thoughts, while your mind screamed at you to run.

You remind me of flowers. The voice suddenly echoed in your mind.

“R-Ryo?” you gasped, finally making the connection.

With shaking hands, you roamed his figure, seeking confirmation in the darkness. Your fingertips softly brushed over his features. Was this a dream? Had you already died? How was it that after all these years, he was finally here—especially in your most dire moment? The surrealness of this situation felt too good to be true.

“I-It really is you,” your voice quivered with emotion. “I-I can't believe it. All this time... I thought I would never see you again."

“I'm here now, flower,” he said, capturing your hand in his. “Come with me; it’s not safe.”

Before you could utter another word, he effortlessly scooped you up, and you instinctively held on to him, tightening your grip, afraid that if you let go he would slip away again.

Sukuna traversed the forest at an inhuman speed. He seemed to know the terrain well, navigating it with ease, but for you, all you saw was unending darkness; the gust of wind threading through your hair was the only sign that you were moving. Your heart raced as he cradled you against his strong body; you could feel the heat radiating from him, evoking a warm and familiar feeling within you—a feeling that you have yearned for so many years.

Moments later, you found yourself in a clearing. Under the clear night sky, vast greenery and towering mountains loomed around you. At the foot of one mountain, a grand tree stood beside an ancient temple. Sukuna gently set you on your feet, and now that you were out in the clearing, you could get a better look at him. Standing before you was no longer the little boy from your memories; he had transformed into a formidable man—perhaps the largest person you had ever seen. He wore an oversized kimono, his bare chest exposed, and his muscular build attested to the life he had lived throughout the years. Your gaze was then drawn to the unmistakable bloodstains on his clothing.

“Are you hurt?” your brows furrowed in concern as your hand ghosted over the stains.

“Nothing worth fretting over; they do not belong to me,” he said, a smile involuntarily curving his lips at the concern you displayed.

Sukuna lifted your chin to meet his gaze. In the moonlight, he could see you with much more clarity.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, a hint of longing evident in his eyes.

Heat rushed to your face at his touch, but you were grateful that the night concealed it.

“How did you know to find me?" you quietly asked.

“The forest and the mountain are my domain,” Sukuna replied, brushing his thumb over your lower lip, as if he was trying to engrave your features into his memory. “You were lucky I found you before something else did.”

Something in your gut told you it couldn't have been mere coincidence, but you decided to keep that thought to yourself. It wasn't the time nor the place for interrogations.

"I see," you smiled wearily. "Thank you... you saved me yet again."

Your words stirred a nostalgic memory within him.

As you continued to stand there in silence, the brave facade you had been putting up began to crumble. All the events that had led you to this moment settled within you, and the feelings you had long suppressed surged to the surface—grief, resentment, confusion, fear, relief, yearning—a tempest you could no longer keep at bay.

“All these years, I’ve been searching for you,” your voice cracked, tears brimming in your eyes.

"I know," he replied, his tone low and hushed.

“Y-You did?"

Sukuna nodded.

"Then why, Ryo? Did you not want to see me?” Your chest tightened at his admission, and tears began to roll down your face.

“It was for the best.” Sukuna's jaw clenched. The sight of you crying evoked a sense of dread within him.

“The best for who?”

A brief silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

“That no longer matters, flower. We're here now, and I won't let you go again,” he said, gently wiping a stray tear from your face.

You knew he was hiding something from you, but that mattered little right now. Your body reacted before your mind, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

---

Wooden floors creaked beneath you as you crossed the threshold of the temple, and an inexplicable wave of energy washed over you. It was intense yet comforting, like the warmth of the sun—like him.

The temple was small and modest, but it felt peaceful and comfortable. It was also evident that the wooden interior had been well-maintained despite how ancient it was. The air was filled with the soothing scents of incense and cedarwood.

The earlier conversation with Sukuna loomed over you, leaving so many questions unanswered. While you could still sense a semblance of the little boy within him, he also felt unfamiliar and distant; after all, so much time had passed. You longed to know everything about him, to fill in the gaps, but perhaps that would have to wait.

As you took a closer look around the main hall, your eyes wandered to the beautifully crafted sliding doors at the back, which were fully open to reveal a serene garden that captivated you with its lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed.

Sukuna looked at you under the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating the hall, and your heart began to race under his gaze amid the intimacy of the setting. He watched you intently as if he could hear the intense beating of your heart—

“Sukuna-sama, you’re back,” a gentle voice cut through the air.

You turned to find a young person standing there. Their gender was ambiguous, but their appearance reminded you of winter's first snowfall. They exuded a calm and serene presence.

“Uraume,” Sukuna acknowledged, gesturing toward you. “She is with me. Draw her a bath and prepare some fresh clothes. I’ll get a fire started.”

“Yes, Sukuna-sama,” Uraume replied, hastily leaving for the back of the temple.

You watched as Sukuna stripped off his kimono, revealing his muscular upper body adorned with tattoos.

“Ryo, where are you going?” you asked, trying to mask the fluster in your voice.

Sukuna turned back to look at you with a smile. “I’m going to hunt some game. We’ll fill our stomachs before going to bed.”

---

The warmth of the hot spring quickly melted away the stress of the day. You still could not wrap your head around the uncanny turn of events; it felt like a nightmare turned dream. Instead of being married to Lord Yamamoto, you were now reunited with the one person who had always occupied your thoughts. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you reached for a washcloth to gently remove your makeup. You knew that there would be other matters to address later, but for now, you wanted to savor this brief respite.

Sinking the lower half of your head into the water, you blew small bubbles, and images of Sukuna and the man he had become flashed in your mind, sending a warmth throughout your body.

Sukuna's renown had been spreading in recent years, and you were acutely aware of his reputation. Whispers surrounded him, calling him the King of Curses—the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the era. There was much debate over whether he was merely a man or a deity, while others believed him to be a demon in disguise. Your village, having a strong aversion to jujutsu sorcery, viewed it as more of a curse than a gift and seemed to believe he was nothing short of a demon.

Regardless, you had only ever known him as Ryo, so you never gave much thought to the rumors. Man, deity, or demon—whatever he was, you would have accepted him unconditionally. Despite the time apart, you still felt an inexplicable tether to him.

I won't let you go again.

Those words stirred an emotion within you when he had initially spoken them, but doubts and hesitation lingered in your mind. Had it not been for your current predicament, you would have been more inclined to stay with him.

You held your breath and submerged yourself entirely beneath the warm water, hoping to silence these chaotic thoughts—even if just for a moment.

---

Feeling refreshed as you stepped out of the temple in a new set of clothes, you noticed that a fire had already been started and that Uraume was preparing some vegetables.

“Uraume-san,” you smiled as you walked over, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Y/N-san,” Uraume exclaimed, a gentle light in their eyes. “All the preparations are nearly complete. Why don’t you sit by the fire first? Sukuna-sama should be back soon.”

You hesitated and looked to see if there was still anything to help with, but noticing how there was not much else, you acquiesced and made your way to the fire. You watched in awe as Uraume skillfully finished the last touches of their work. Soon after, they settled down beside you. It was a comfortable silence between the two of you, accompanied by the crackling of the fire.

“Have you and Ryo always lived here?” you tried to make conversation.

Uraume nodded, their expression thoughtful. “We’ve lived here for quite some time. I owe him my life.”

You looked at Uraume, curiosity piqued.

“I was at death’s door when he found me as a child,” Uraume confessed softly. “He took me under his wing.”

“He’s always been kind.” You smiled contemplatively.

“Yes,” Uraume agreed. There was a brief pause. “He…has also mentioned you before.”

“He has?”

Uraume nodded. “He said there was once a girl he met who lived in a village not too far from here. She was as kind as she was beautiful, and she reminded him of flowers. When I saw you, I knew you were that girl.”

It warmed your heart to know that he had spoken about you, but it also felt bittersweet.

“Ah, he’s back,” Uraume remarked, glancing behind you.

Your eyes widened at the spectacular sight before you. Sukuna had a deer slung over his shoulder, effortlessly making his way toward the two of you; he trekked as if the deer weighed nothing.

Sukuna dropped the deer by the fire, and Uraume instinctively got up, ready to prepare the meat. You watched as Sukuna slashed the deer's throat, collecting the blood in a bowl. A wave of queasiness washed over you, and you looked away, unable to face the brutal sight. Sukuna settled down beside you while Uraume got to work, efficiently cutting up the rest of the deer.

“Drink every last drop,” he commanded, handing the bowl to you.

“I—I don't think I can,” you put your hand out in defense, the metallic stench making your stomach churn.

“You are malnourished,” he said, grabbing your wrist to examine its size. “Have you not been looking after yourself?”

“I have,” you insisted, attempting to wiggle your wrist free from his grasp. His touch felt searing against your skin.

“You will drink this, unless you would like me to feed you,” Sukuna insisted, handing you the bowl once more, the intensity in his eyes leaving no room for argument.

You took the bowl in both hands, trembling slightly. As you watched the thick red liquid swirl inside, you held your breath and brought it to your lips, tilting it ever so slightly and allowing the liquid to slip into your mouth and down your throat. Just as you were about to lower the bowl, Sukuna's hand clasped over yours, tilting the bowl upward to ensure you finished everything.

“That’s it, flower—every last drop,” he said, his voice low and steady. When he was satisfied that you had consumed all of it, he released his grip and took the bowl from your hands. You gagged at the aftertaste, coughing as a trickle of blood ran down your chin. Sukuna's eyes grew dark at the sight; he wiped the blood from your chin with his thumb, then licked it clean.

“Ryo—!” you gasped, teary-eyed. “N-no more of that, please.”

“That will depend on how well you eat,” a hint of playfulness threaded through his voice.

“Do you drink this too?” you asked, clearing your throat.

"Of course, the blood of a deer is a highly nutritious delicacy. Did you know in some places, it is a drink shared by a married couple on their wedding night?" Sukuna smirked.

You shudder at the thought. This blood drinking experience was something that you hoped would be your first and last. But the slight implication that Sukuna made at the end also made you a bit shy.

Uraume handed a plate of skewered meat to Sukuna, and you marveled at how quickly they had prepared it. You watched as Sukuna stabbed each skewer into the ground by the fire, your attention lingering on the flames that seemed to beckon you.

"I should have whisked you away from the village earlier, had I known you were not being fed properly." Sukuna intently watched you with one of his eyes, sensing your tension.

"Well, why didn't you?" you muttered. The words escaped your mouth before you could stop it.

You were sure he had his reasons for staying away, yet you couldn’t hide your disappointment in him for keeping his distance. So much precious time had been lost, and so many what-ifs lingered in your mind.

It was juvenile, but you often dreamt of how the two of you would grow up together—an inseparable duo, the best of friends. Then, when you came of age, he would have asked you to follow him, and you would have gladly followed him anywhere. The two of you would travel all over the land, experiencing the world side by side. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, he would have asked you to marry him, and you would have said 'yes' without skipping a beat—

"Come now, don't sulk, flower," Sukuna said, breaking you out of your thoughts. "You're here now. We will make up for lost time."

"You speak as if I'm going to be staying here for good," you couldn't help but challenge him a little.

It might have been your imagination, but you thought his expression darkened for a split second.

"It sounds like you have somewhere to go then."

"I—well, I didn’t have too much time to think details. But I planned to make my way to a far out village, where no one will be able to find me."

"That would be difficult," Sukuna hummed.

"It’s worth a try… better than yielding to the fate I was subjugated to." You hugged your knees.

"Enlighten me, what was someone’s bride doing in the middle of the forest?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

There was a hesitation in telling him about your plight, but you knew it was also an unavoidable topic—after all, he had saved you, so an explanation was due at the very least.

“I ran away… from a marriage I wanted no part of.”

“How bold,” he chuckled. “It’s very like you.”

“It’s hardly a laughing matter, Ryo,” you huffed, anxiety evident in your voice.

“But you've successfully escaped. Should this not be a cause to celebrate?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“I don't know if I would consider it successful just yet," you narrowed your eyes. "I didn’t just run away from any man; I ran away from a lord. My village hoped to leverage my marriage with Lord Yamamoto for aid. There will be repercussions for my actions.”

Sukuna listened as he rotated the skewers.

"Hm, I suppose that is quite the predicament. Whatever shall you do then?" His question came out more like a taunt than a show of concern.

"Are you mocking my situation?" You frowned, your expression dropping as self-doubt crept in. You had to admit that you'd been reckless with your decision, and you didn't exactly have a reliable plan. You wouldn’t have even made it out of the forest had it not been for Sukuna.

“Of course not. Don't look so defeated," he softly tsked, smoothing the crease between your brows with his fingers.

You looked at him with a mixture of surprise and hesitation.

"Is there any reason for you to worry if I am going to be by your side?" he returned your gaze, a burning confidence in his eyes.

“It’s not so simple, Ryo. I don’t want you to be caught in my problems—”

“A mere lord and your measly village is not a problem,” Sukuna replied, passing a skewer to you.

You reluctantly accepted the skewer, your fingers momentarily brushing against his hand during the exchange. As divine as the meat smelled, you couldn't bring yourself to eat; your worries and anxiety loomed large over your head.

"It's not going to eat itself if you keep staring at it," Sukuna sighed, crossing his four arms and giving you a stern look.

Taking a tiny bite, your eyes momentarily lit up. It tasted even better than it smelled. Before you knew it, you had devoured the entire skewer, and Sukuna was already handing you another one. Perhaps you were hungrier than you had thought, but his pleased expression did not escape you—he cared, and that alone filled you with immense happiness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It's not about what I want," you shook your head. "What if something happens to both of you because of me?"

"You needn't worry about us, Y/N-san; we are more than capable of dealing with Lord Yamamoto," Uraume smiled at you. Their gentle reassurance only seemed to amplify your guilt.

"We can't be sure of that—"

“Are you not aware of what they call me?”

You sighed, a sense of apprehension filling your chest. "I am..."

“Then if you know my reputation, you should understand that even if Lord Yamamoto and his entire arsenal, along with your village, were to descend upon us right now, they would not stand a chance.”

Sukuna seemed adamant about helping, but that only served to heighten your uneasiness. It wasn't that you doubted his capabilities; but you also understood that your actions would have dire consequences. A runaway bride of Lord Yamamoto wasn't a matter that would be overlooked so easily. Surely, the four men who had escorted you had reported back to their lord that you had escaped. Even if Sukuna could easily deal with them, he would be branded a criminal—forever having to be on the run. He had endured enough hardships in his life, and it felt like you were only adding to his strife. You didn't deserve this kindness from him; his life was fine before you came along.

"This will be your home. You will be safe as long as you stay by my side. So stay here, Y/N.” An unexpected possessiveness laced Sukuna's voice.

You looked up at Sukuna in surprise; you had never heard him call your name before. His eyes silently pleaded with you to stay—shattering your resolve.

"Tell me you need my help, flower," Sukuna urged, looking into your eyes with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

A lingering silence filled the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Help me, Ryo…" you finally said.

---

You hadn't felt so full in a long time. Sukuna had ensured you ate your share of food before retiring to bed. Following behind him, you were led to your sleeping accommodations, and to your surprise, he took you into his chamber, which overlooked a small private garden and hot spring.

The temple was modest in size, containing only two bedrooms. It didn’t feel right to intrude on Uraume's private quarters, especially since it was Sukuna's decision to keep you, but he also couldn’t deny he had other intentions.

Before crawling into bed, you turned to meet Sukuna's gaze.

“Ryo… I don’t know how I could ever repay you. If there's anything I can do for you, you must tell me," you said earnestly.

“Hmm,” he paused, feigning contemplation.

You looked at him eagerly, trying to anticipate what he could ask for.

"Anything?" he drawled, rubbing his chin.

You nodded.

“Alright," he smirked, "swear yourself to me.”

Your eyes widened. You weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, but you trusted him implicitly. He most likely needed an extra hand with taking care of the temple and doing some extra work around here.

“A-are you sure that’s all you want? That hardly seems adequate, I am troubling you after all.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeves.

"You undermine yourself, flower."

“Oh, well, I do have many skills I could offer, and I promise to be useful around here. I’m quite knowledgeable about plants, herbs, and flowers. I may not be as good a cook as Uraume, but—”

"Staying by my side is enough," he interjected.

There was a sincerity in his voice that was new to you, making your heart do flips inside your chest.

"Ryo..." you spoke quietly, clasping your hands tightly. "I might misunderstand if you're so kind to me."

Oh, what a delight you were. Sukuna felt an intense urge to smother you.

“Well, what if I wanted more than just your domestic skills?” he asked lowly, taking a lock of your hair into his hands.

Your heart raced, and suddenly the room felt hot as you understood his implications.

“Is that… what you truly desire?"

"And if it is?"

There was a brief pause.

Just this morning, you were still in utter despair, wholly expecting to be wedded to a monster. But now, in this moment, it was not Lord Yamamoto before you, but rather the man of your dreams—the only man you had wished to marry. He had long claimed your mind and heart; what more was your body?

"Then take me," your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, but why did he feel so disappointed by your response? It almost rolled off your tongue too easily.

"You would just give yourself to any man, so long as they ask?"

"N-no, you misunderstand!"

Sukuna remained silent, the look in his eyes demanding you to elaborate.

"If that were true, I wouldn’t have ran away from Lord Yamamoto. You're not just any man to me, Ryo. I—" love you. The heat crept up to your ears.

Your timid confession sent a chilling thrill through his body, awakening a primal hunger within him, he could no longer resist.

“Do you truly wish to be mine?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt dizzy under his touch and gaze.

"Yes..."

"Look at me and say it." He hissed.

"I'm yours, Ryo. I want to be yours." You met his eyes and gently took his hand, placing it over your heart, hoping he could feel how violently it was beating against your chest.

“You didn’t need to ask me to swear myself to you; I would have gladly followed you anywhere. I've felt that way ever since we were children.”

Sukuna was rarely caught off guard. The first time he recalled was when you approached him as a child, and the second was this very moment. You had just confessed your feelings for him and expressed a desire to stay with him of your own volition. Nobody else had ever been able to elicit these feelings from him, and the dominion you unknowingly held over him was both terrifying and thrilling.

"Then I will take you, flower—your heart, body, and soul."

Without sparing another moment, he wrapped his hand behind your head and crushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. The world around you fell silent.

For once, it felt as if the universe had smiled upon his wretched life.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the pictures used for the banner.

Taglist: @paradisestarfishh @ssetsuka

[gullemec]

Cross the Line

Golden Cage - Chapter Five

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Truth or Dare, Murder, and Sex. Or, you and Butcher go on a road trip.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, nipple play, dirty talk, creampie, discussions of previous murders, language, unsafe driving, attempted flashing, One Bed Trope™️, reader has poor self esteem and is Going Through It, straight up vehicular manslaughter, brief description of dead bodies

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.7k

A/N: Here she is!! My first ever f/m smut scene! Please be kind. Also a very action-packed chapter. Please read the tags before diving in because there's a LOT happening here.

Monday morning rolls around with an alarming speed, the pace of your days having taken a decided turn toward the speed of light. 

It had nothing to do with your apprehension around being with Butcher again, you were sure. 

Certain. 

The plan, not unlike the last plan, is supposedly simple. As the CytoGenix van carrying the vials of V2 makes its way upstate, you and Butcher will tail it at a distance, waiting until the time is right to strike and run the van offroad using a spike strip.

You've thought up about two thousand ways this could go wrong. You could probably think of a thousand more, but your brain started to hurt when you tried.

You pull your bag over your shoulder, every step to Butcher’s van downstairs weighed down by a strange mix of adrenaline and dread. He’s waiting for you, leaned against the driver’s side door with his usual cocky smirk, dark aviators shielding his expression.

“Look alive, sunshine,” he says as you climb in. “Big day ahead.”

You settle into the passenger seat, forcing yourself to play it cool. The hum of the engine fills the silence as you pull away, but within moments, the tension in the van feels as suffocating as the thick summer air.

The first two hours crawl by. Small talk feels like dragging a boulder uphill, each attempt to bridge the gap between you met with curt, monosyllabic responses. Weather. Traffic. A half-hearted quip about a roadside diner that doesn’t even earn a smirk from Butcher.

It’s maddening. Days ago, this man had kissed you like the world was ending. Now, he's talking about the possibility of impending rain. You feel insane.

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

“Truth or dare,” you say, throwing it out like a grenade

Butcher glances at you, his brow furrowing beneath his sunglasses. “The fuck did you just say?”

He scoffs, muttering something under his breath about it being a child's game. “And how exactly do you suppose we play truth or dare in a moving vehicle, hm?” He asks. 

“I don't know, but what I do know is that we have a four and a half hour drive ahead of us and if this awkward silence is going to continue, I'm going to jump out of the window right now.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “What are you, twelve? What’s next, a round of bloody ‘I Spy’?” He shoots you a look of bemusement before returning to the road, ignoring your request. 

He's not getting away that easy. 

“Look, it's either truth or dare, or we talk about the k—”

“Jesus Christ, alright I'll play your fucking game,” he relents. 

Success. 

You nod toward him expectedly. 

“What?” He asks 

“Truth or dare? You have to pick, it's kind of how the game is played.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Fine. Truth.”

You pause to think for a second, racking your brain for a good question. You could, of course, go straight for the jugular, asking him why he pulled away from the kiss, why he didn't push you down on the couch and take everything you were willing to give him right then and there. But you think that might be a little intense for a first question, so you settle on something easier. 

“How many people have you killed?”

His reaction is instant, an incredulous laugh that’s more bark than humor. “Straight for the jugular, eh? You don’t muck about.”

“I’m curious,” you say, holding his gaze. “Isn’t that the whole point of the game?

“Sweetheart, if knowing how many people I've kidnapped is a second date question, this has gotta be a fifth date question.”

“Okay,” you say thoughtfully. “Well, if you count all the late night stake outs, and if you count our first date, the one where you kidnapped, me as three dates, which I do, I think we're well past the fifth date by now.” You raise your eyebrows at him, laughing.  

“Alright, alright,” he huffs. The smirk on his face betrays the fact that he kind of wants to play, but his tough facade necessitates that he put up a valiant fight about it first. 

But once your laughing subsides, his grin falls, and you realize that this was perhaps not the best question to ask. His eyes are fixed on the road when he answers you. 

He exhales sharply, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “I lost count. Got to twenty-five, maybe thirty, last time I bothered to keep track.” His voice is calm, almost too calm, but there’s no pride in it. “You happy now?”

His admission is like a shock to your system. You knew that he'd killed before, having tossed the idea around in your mind, considering the things you knew about the man you were unquestionably attracted to. He has killed, yes, but he has also lost. He has lost everything, and he has helped, and he has been kind, too. And yet, hearing the words from his mouth, putting a number, if only estimated, on the amount of times a life has been lost at the same hands that were wrapped tenderly around your body only days ago, sends a painful jolt to your heart. 

“I know what you might think,” he starts, his voice faltering. “You think I'm cold and evil, or whatever.” His fingers readjust around the steering wheel, an anxious tic you're picking up on. “But I had to do it. I believed it was for some… greater purpose, I guess. I believe that, but maybe because I have to.”

You're speechless. You weren't expecting this sudden moment of vulnerability in Butcher, this emotional nakedness. If you're honest, it scares you, because it causes the sand beneath the already unsteady foundation of your relationship with him to shake. You have to say something, anything. 

“How do you feel about potentially killing two more people today? Does it make you nervous?” You ask. You're vaguely aware of the van driving ahead of you, a pinprick dot of white on the endlessly winding highway. 

He sighs, then smirks, looking entirely too pleased in comparison to his somber expression only moments ago. “Uh–uh, your turn now.”

He's got you there. 

“Truth,” you say, and it's only fair that he throws you a hardball too. But he doesn't. 

“What’s your favorite memory with your mum?”

The question throws you for a moment, its tenderness blindsiding you. You have so many, you could almost argue that this isn't an easy question at all. All the same, your mind wanders to the same memory that always pops up when you ask yourself this question. 

“My seventh birthday,” you begin, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “Dad was off in the Bahamas for some meeting, and I didn’t have any friends because we’d just moved. So it was just me and her. She took me to Coney Island, and we spent the whole day there. Rides, games, cotton candy. It was the best.” A tear twinkles in your eye, but you wipe it away before it comes to fruition. 

He looks like he's about to say something, maybe offer some comfort or ask a follow up, but you're too quick for him. 

“Now you, truth or dare?”

He picks dare, following your lead and ignoring what you shared about your mom. You appreciate his ability to pick up on your nonverbal cues. 

You resist the urge to reach across the console and brush your fingers through his wild, wind-tousled hair. You let yourself imagine for a moment a scenario in which the two of you are out for a drive on a beautiful day for pleasure rather than business, where you might entwine your fingers with his on the center console. But these thoughts are dangerous, and you need a distraction. 

“Drive in the oncoming lane for ten seconds.”

“Are you bloody mental?” he snaps, glaring at you. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, and you want me to pull a stunt like that?”

You shrug, and you relish in the utter frustration that Butcher exudes, the way his accent comes out in full-force when he's this worked up. 

“You said dare,” you counter, your tone teasing. “A dare’s a dare.”

He groans, muttering a string of expletives as he slows the van. “You’re a bloody pain in my arse, you know that?”

“Slow down a bit, so they won't see us,” you suggest, your voice low to control the giggles that threaten to peek out. “Come on, Butcher.”

He hesitates. It's a sick kind of satisfaction knowing that, if it was anyone but you, Butcher would have probably just let you jump out the window at this point. 

“One, twooo… Threeeee…” You exaggerate your words, giving him every opportunity to acquiesce to your demands. 

Finally, you feel the van slow and dip to the left as Butcher careens into the oncoming lane. 

This is getting too easy. 

You count out the next ten seconds slowly, agonizingly. 

Ten. 

Nine

Eight. He shifts his eyes between you and the road, imploring you to call off the dare. Absolutely not. 

Seven. 

Six. 

Five. A speck materializes on the horizon. An oncoming car. 

Four.  The speck transforms into a white sedan. 

Three. “I'm switching lanes,” he yells. “Three more seconds!” You argue back. 

Two. You can tell now that there are two passengers in the sedan. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”

One. The driver of the sedan lays on the horn, the loud bleat sending shockwaves through your system. 

Butcher swerves back into the right lane, a chorus of curses spilling out, the sedan’s honking fading out behind you. Your laughter spills out, obnoxious and loud and absolutely drowning out Butcher’s string of profanities. Shortly after he course-corrects, the white van falls back into your line of sight. 

No harm, no foul. 

Butcher’s breathing evens. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, still grinning.

“You better pick dare this turn. I didn't realize we weren't playin' fair,” he smirks, and you're knocked back again. It's criminal how this man speaks, so deep and yet so melodic, his accent and charm breaking down whatever defenses you still had standing. 

“Do your worst,” you dare, and he smiles widely. For a moment, you feel a real flare of heat in your chest. You don't want to think about what you'd realistically do for this man right now, but the thought crosses your mind, sending a pang to your core. 

“Flash the next car that drives past us.”

Now it's your turn to blanch at the request, your face scrunching up in response. 

“You can't be serious,” you say. 

He simply nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead in feigned concentration. 

Well, the best way out is always through. 

You pull your seatbelt off, balancing on your seat and the console as you pull yourself through the van’s open sunroof. You pretend not to notice Butcher's right arm snaking protectively around your left leg. 

You watch as a dark green truck materializes before you, a lone cowboy hat wearing man inside. You pinch your fingers around the edge of your shirt. The truck speeds by as you begin to lift it up. Suddenly, the arm wrapped around your leg pulls down, forcing you back into the van. 

“Hey! What was that for?!” You exclaim, annoyed at the unwelcome intrusion. 

“You weren't seriously going to flash that truck, were you?” He asks. 

You nod. “I mean, yeah? You dared me to do it. A dare’s a dare.”

He huffs and puffs, shaking his head intermittently. He's frustrated with you, and it's pissing you off. 

Time to turn the tables. 

“Okay, well it’s your turn now I guess. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he says smugly, and you laugh, because you know what you say next is going to shake him. 

You take a second to stare at him, an unabashed good look at him. The way the breeze tousles his dark hair, the angle of his jaw catching the golden hour light. The warmth in the glow softens him somehow, makes him seem almost human, almost kind. You can't deny that you want him, and you can’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wants you too.

"Did you like it?" you ask abruptly, your voice low but clear.

Butcher furrows his brow, clearly puzzled. "Like what?"

"When you kissed me," you clarify, your heart pounding in your chest. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

The silence that follows is deafening. You hear him inhale sharply, see the slight hitch in his posture as the words settle between you. His face shifts, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. He stares straight ahead, jaw tightening, fingers curling around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

Your pulse quickens. Oh, God. Why did I say that? The weight of your own recklessness presses down on you. Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity as he struggles with something unspoken, his lips parting as if to say something—

Your heart stops.

—and then, with a sharp gasp, his hand slams the horn and his foot hits the brake.

"Oi! Cunts!" he shouts, jerking the van to a sudden halt. Both of you lurch forward, your seatbelt biting into your shoulder.

Your head snaps toward the road just in time to see the CytoGenix van swerving off into the parking lot of a run-down motel.

The spell is broken. The tension you’d built up between you vanishes, replaced by adrenaline and a sinking sense of inevitability.

At least he'd stopped you before you'd shown your tits to some unsuspecting cowboy. 

Butcher’s face hardens, his attention fully back on the road as he mutters a string of curses under his breath. He keeps driving for another mile, the air in the van heavy and stifling. It’s as though the cracks you’d glimpsed in his armor have sealed up entirely, leaving only the impenetrable man you met at the start.

Finally, he pulls off just past a mile marker, the van grinding to a halt on the side of the road. He throws it in park and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

"Out," he orders, his voice clipped.

You blink at him. "What?"

"Get out of the van," he repeats, this time more firmly.

Despite every instinct screaming at you not to trust him, you obey. He follows you out, slamming the door behind him, and gestures toward the dense line of trees. "Start walking. Don’t stop ‘til you’re deep enough in that you can’t see the road anymore."

“Now wait a goddamn minute,” you fight, “I want to be a part of this. You're not exiling me to the woods while you do the dirty work. I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” he snaps, his tone cold and final. “You don’t want this blood on your hands, love. Trust me.”

Your temper flares. "You’re such an asshole, you know that?" you spit, heat rushing to your face.

You're all bite, all fight, until you see the look on his face. The harsh lines of his face are softened, his eyes weighed down with something heavier than anger. Guilt? Regret? He doesn’t want to do this, you realize. He thinks he’s protecting you.

And maybe you just don't have much of a fight left in you anymore.

You swallow hard, clenching your fists. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go."

Without waiting for a response, you storm off into the forest, branches snapping underfoot as you push past ferns and brush.

You find a mossy rock and sink down beside it, hugging your knees to your chest. The familiar ache of being abandoned washes over you, pulling you back into yourself. You wrap your arms tightly around your body, closing your eyes and imagining the comforting embrace of your mother. The memories come easily, like they always do. Her laugh, her warmth, the way her hand always found yours when you were scared.

You lose track of time sitting there, flipping through those memories like pages in a well-worn book. Hours could have passed, or maybe it’s only minutes. You don’t know, and for a while, you don’t care.

It’s the crunch of heavy footfalls that pulls you back to the present. You blink up to see Butcher looming over you, his expression grim and drawn.

"If a van crashes in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it even make a noise?" you quip, smirking despite yourself.

He scowls. "What the fuck are you on about now?"

"Either that was the quietest car crash in history, or you lost them," you say, crossing your arms.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "They never came through. They’re holed up at the motel for the night. We’ll head back, stake it out, and wait for them to move on." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the road.

He extends a hand to help you up, but you ignore it, pushing yourself off the ground and brushing dirt from your clothes. Without a word, you start walking ahead of him, back toward the van.

"Bloody hell," he mutters under his breath, falling in step behind you. 

The short drive back to the motel is silent, the energy between the two of you having soured considerably. You stare out the window, arms crossed, seething. You're pissed and you want him to know it, to feel it. The mission feels like a joke, like you’re a joke. No matter what you do, you’ll always be the inept kid getting in the way.

The Piney Point Motel comes into view just as the sun dips behind the pines, the sky streaked in pinks and oranges. You spot the CytoGenix van immediately, parked conspicuously by the entrance of the motel. As far as you can tell, it's empty. 

“Did they really just… leave it there?” You ask, incredulous. 

Butcher chuckles. “Your old man really should stop cuttin’ corners on security.”

A flurry of hope stirs in your chest. “So we could just break into the van and steal the vials, right? And then no one would have to get hurt?”

He gives you a look, one that’s half pity, half impatience, before gesturing to the motel’s facade. Security cameras dot the walls, floodlights primed for motion. “Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like your dad could learn a thing or two from Piney Point.”

And just like that, the spark fizzles. 

Butcher pulls the van into a shadowed corner of the lot and kills the engine. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed.

You stare at him. “Well, are we going in?”

“Nah. You can crawl in the back if you wanna sleep. I'll take first watch.”

He can't be serious. 

“You want me to sleep back there?!”

He shrugs. “Or up here, but I don’t reckon it’s any comfier.”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “Or—and hear me out—we could sleep in the motel right in front of us?”

“And risk losin’ ‘em? Yeah, no thanks.”

You argue back and forth but the man is an infuriating, unflinching wall of stubbornness. Eventually, you give up, arms crossed as you glare at the moonlit motel. You consider going and getting a room just for yourself, but you reason that Butcher won't hesitate when he sees the men leave and you'll be left behind. Sleep tugs at you, but you refuse to crawl into the cramped backseat. Not after this.

The moon begins its arc across the starlit sky. Stars scatter above you, brighter and clearer than anything you’ve seen in years. You step out of the van, stretching stiff legs, the cool night air brushing against your skin. For a moment, you forget your frustration, gazing up at the wide, sparkling sky. It reminds you of Muskoka, your last vacation with both parents—before the office bedroom became your dad’s permanent home.

The ache of the memory lingers as you climb back into the van, only to find Butcher slumped in the driver’s seat, snoring. His chin tucked into his chest, a low rumble filling the space. You burst into laughter before you can stop yourself.

Butcher jerks awake, eyes darting wildly until they land on you. His expression shifts to a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

“Alright, laugh it up,” he grumbles, voice gravelly from sleep. “Your turn to keep watch. Good luck stayin’ awake.”

You plant your hands on your hips, glaring at him. “I’m dead tired, and so are you. We need actual sleep, Butch. I’ll pay for the rooms. Final offer.”

He pretends to consider your offer like the thought of a bed, even a springy motel bed, doesn't sound downright heavenly right now. After a moment of feigned thoughtfulness, he pulls himself from the driver's seat and stalks toward the motel. 

“Don't look so pleased,” he mutters as he stalks past you. “We’re up at 4:30, no later. Understand?”

You trail behind him, hiding your grin. Right now, you’d agree to anything.

~~~

The reception area of the Piney Point Motel looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1970s. The wood-paneled walls are warped in places, lined with crooked shelves cluttered with knick-knacks, miniature ceramic animals, a faded “World’s Best Grandma” mug, and a jar of mints that looks more like a trap than an offering.

Behind the counter sits a bespectacled woman in her sixties, a paperback romance novel in one hand and a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray beside her. The air smells like pine-scented cleaner and stale smoke. She looks up as you and Butcher enter, giving you both a thorough once-over.

“Hourly or overnight?” she asks flatly, like she’s heard every excuse in the book.

The question hits you like a slap. Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Butcher doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll take two rooms for the night,” he says, ignoring your mortification.

The receptionist shakes her head with a lazy shrug. “Only got one room left. One bed. Last two-bed went to a couple of truckers about an hour ago. It’s that time of year.”

You and Butcher exchange a look, sharp and synchronized.

“No,” you and Butcher say in unison, your sharp tone and immediate refusal surprising the older woman. 

But your mind wanders back to the van, it's aging leather upholstery and stiff cushions and lingering coffee smell. The weight of your eyelids expands tenfold at the thought. No way in hell are you going to be prepared for what tomorrow brings if you have to sleep in there. 

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the key from the receptionist’s outstretched hand, replacing it with a stack of bills.

“What d’you mean, fine?” Butcher asks, trailing after you as you head to the room. His boots echo dully on the cracked linoleum floor. “We’re better off in the van. Safer, too.”

You ignore him, jamming the key into the lock and twisting hard. The door creaks open to reveal a shoebox-sized room with peeling wallpaper, a squeaky ceiling fan, and a bed that looks like it’s seen more fights than rest.

Still, it’s a bed.

Without a word, Butcher follows you inside, closing the door behind him. For a man so determined to sleep in the van, he seems strangely reluctant to leave now. You glance at him, confused but unwilling to ask.

“You’re not staying, are you?” you finally say, half-turning to face him.

“’Course I’m stayin’,” he replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not leavin’ you alone in some dodgy motel where the closest weapon’s probably that broken lamp in the corner.”

You blink at him, torn between irritation and a flicker of gratitude. Before you can respond, he smirks and brushes past you toward the bed.

“Dibs,” he declares, flopping onto the mattress with all the grace of a drunk elephant. The springs groan in protest, but he doesn’t care.

“No, no! Absolutely not!” You shout, but he's already stretched his arms behind his head, feet crossed. “You're not taking the bed, you didn't even want this room!”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, tucking his hands behind his head. The smugness radiating off him is enough to set your teeth on edge.

“You're an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah, you keep remindin’ me,” he says with a grin. “Now are you gonna stand there gawkin’ all night, or are you gonna make yourself comfortable?”

You grab the pillow out from behind his head and secure it alongside yours down the middle of the bed, creating a makeshift wall between your bodies. 

“What’s this, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The Great Wall of Don’t-Touch-Me,” you deadpan, climbing onto your side of the bed and glaring at him over the makeshift divider.

He chuckles, low and amused. “You think I’m gonna bite?”

“More likely that I’d be the one biting you,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

The second the words leave your mouth, your cheeks flush hot. You busy yourself adjusting your pillow, pretending you don’t see the way his grin widens.

“Noted,” he says, voice dipping just enough to make you shiver.

You roll over, facing the wall. The bed creaks as Butcher shifts, and you’re hyper-aware of his presence. His scent, the warmth radiating off him, the way the air seems heavier when he’s near.

Neither of you bother crawling under the covers, facing away from each other to make it extra-clear that this is a no-nonsense, all-business sleepover. 

“Goodnight, asshole,” you mutter, hoping the bite in your tone masks the thrum of nerves in your chest.

“’Night, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice softer than you expect.

You want to savour this moment, but you're out in seconds. 

~~~

Suspended in a haze of warm sunlight, the cool edge of unreality covers you like a blanket of fresh snow. Strong arms wrap securely around your waist, across your chest, their weight pressing into you like a protective cocoon. The scratch of a beard grazes your neck, and the faint warmth of breath tickles your skin. Gentle snores vibrate against your back, a low, steady rhythm that lulls you further into the dreamlike state. You fight to stay there, curling deeper into the embrace, savoring the rare, fleeting serenity.

But serenity never lasts. A creeping discomfort nags at the edges of your mind, like an itch you can’t quite reach. The illusion splinters. The sunlight grows sharper, the weight around you heavier, the awkward press of something hard on your ass undeniable.

Your eyes snap open, reality crashing in. It’s blindingly bright, far too bright for what should be the early, predawn hours. Panic spikes through your system as you take in the scene, your body reacting before your brain catches up. You thrash instinctively, and Butcher’s grip loosens just in time for him to tumble unceremoniously off the bed.

“Bloody hell!” Butcher groans from the floor, rubbing the back of his head.

Your voice comes out in a frantic rasp. “Butcher, wake up! We slept in!”

The words are like a starter pistol. He’s up and moving in an instant, yanking on his boots while simultaneously reaching for the door.

“Shit! Goddamn it, move! Move!” he barks, his voice sharp and commanding.

The two of you are a blur of motion, grabbing, stumbling, swearing. Your bodies move on autopilot, faster than your sleep-addled minds can process. In seconds, you’re in the van, Butcher slamming the door shut and peeling out of the motel parking lot with reckless urgency.

Anxiety builds in your chest, each erratic swerve of the van feeding the dread coiling tighter inside you. As you glance back at the motel, the sight of an empty parking spot—a lone Mustang where the CytoGenix van had been—confirms your worst fears. They’re gone.

Butcher’s jaw tightens as he accelerates onto the highway, weaving through lanes with a focus that’s almost terrifying. The towering pines blur into streaks of green on either side of you as the van hurtles forward. You scan the horizon frantically, desperate for a glimpse of white metal that refuses to appear.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours before Butcher finally slows the van, pulling into a deserted roadside gas station. It’s eerily quiet, the pumps sitting idle, the building dark and lifeless.

“This is the last stop for miles,” Butcher says, his voice low and grim. “That's the last stop they would've made before going to the lab.”

The weight of his words slams into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your heart races, panic tightening its grip. This was it, the window of opportunity to intercept them had closed. It was all your fault. You’d fought tooth and nail for the motel room last night, insisting you both needed the rest, convincing yourself it was a small indulgence that wouldn’t jeopardize the mission.

You were wrong.

Maybe he was right, maybe your father was right, maybe they're all right, everyone who's ever doubted you. It's cruel, the way that the frayed threads of meaning in your life seem to continually fall from your grasp. 

Shame and guilt crash over you in waves, heat rising in your face as your chest constricts painfully. You blink back tears, but they gather stubbornly at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Butcher, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, your voice trembling. “I—I screwed up. This is all my fault.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he stares out the windshield. The silence stretches, unbearable. Fear claws at you, the thought of him cutting you loose from the Boys—or worse, giving up on the mission entirely—hitting like a punch to the gut.

“Please,” you continue, desperation creeping into your tone. “I know I fucked up, but don’t… don’t give up on this. Don’t give up on me.”

Butcher’s head swivels toward you, his eyes softer than you expect. His voice, when he speaks, is gentle, almost unrecognizably so.

“Hey,” he says, holding up a hand. “Breathe. It’s okay. Hold your apologies, yeah? We’re not done yet. I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, not the anger, the harsh words, the fury you thought you deserved. Instead, his calm confidence throws you off balance, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Butcher…” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

“Just wait,” he says, lips quirking into a faint, reassuring smirk. “Keep it together. We’ve still got work to do.”

With that, his foot presses down on the gas pedal, the van lurching forward and pinning you back against the seat.

You're certain you've never driven this fast before, not even during those rare joyrides with your father in his Bugatti. The van rockets forward, moving like a bullet out of a gun, the world outside warping into a blur of trees and sky as the tires scream against the asphalt. Your grip on the door handle tightens with every jolt, the tension in the cabin as visceral as the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Despite the chaos of the day, the abrupt wake-up, the panic, and Butcher’s uncharacteristic gentleness, the unbridled anxiety screaming inside you speaks only of the lives of the two men in the CytoGenix van, unknowingly hurtling toward their end. Anxiety claws at your chest, raw and unrelenting. You shut your eyes and try to focus on breathing, but it’s no use.

“Oi, cunts!” Butcher’s voice explodes, and your eyes snap open.

Thirty feet ahead, the CytoGenix van comes into view, its white exterior glaring against the green blur of forest on either side. To your right, the trees abruptly fall away, leaving nothing but a battered guardrail and a steep ravine beyond.

“Hold on tight,” Butcher orders, his tone calm but edged with a manic sort of energy.

Before you can question him, he floors the gas pedal. The van lurches forward, barreling into the oncoming lane to overtake the other vehicle. Butcher twists the wheel expertly, positioning your van just ahead of the CytoGenix one. Then, in one brutal motion, he jerks back and rams into the side of it.

The impact is bone-rattling. Your body slams against the seatbelt, the van shuddering violently as both vehicles swerve erratically. For a moment, you lock eyes with the other driver, his face contorted in a mix of rage and confusion. But Butcher’s already at it again, pulling back just enough to ram the CytoGenix van a second time.

This hit sends the other van wobbling wildly, the driver fighting to regain control. Your ears ring, blood rushing so loudly that you’re not sure if the scream you hear is yours or simply imagined. And then, with a final, sickening crunch, the CytoGenix van plows through the guardrail and plunges down the ravine.

Butcher swerves hard, narrowly avoiding the gaping hole in the guardrail. The side of your van scrapes against what remains, metal shrieking as sparks fly. He brings the van to an abrupt stop on the shoulder a hundred yards ahead, slamming the gearshift into park. The engine dies, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing in the cabin.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Holy shit,” Butcher echoes, his grin wide and reckless.

You both sit there for a moment, staring straight ahead, before the tension breaks. Anxious laughter bubbles out of you, and to your surprise, Butcher joins in. The two of you volley expletives back and forth between bursts of laughter, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

When the laughter subsides, Butcher reaches for the door handle. “Stay put,” he says firmly. “You’re not gonna want to see this.”

That sends your adrenaline spiking all over again. You throw your door open and stomp after him, slamming it behind you. “No. You’re not doing this. Not again.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. You jab a finger into his chest. “I’m capable of this, Butcher. And if I’m going to be part of the Boys, I need to prove it. No more babying me.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his hazel eyes searching yours. The tension between you is almost unbearable as you silently plead with him to understand. To let you have this. To understand just how important this is, how this transcends the circumstances you currently find yourselves in. Finally, his shoulders sag slightly, and he gives a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

Together, you make your way down the ravine, the incline steep and unforgiving. Butcher offers his arm to steady you when you stumble, and you grudgingly accept. At the bottom, the wreckage comes into view. The CytoGenix van lies on its side in a shallow creek bed, its back doors hanging open.

You rush to the driver’s side, heart hammering in your chest as you peer inside. For the past week, nightmares have plagued you—visions of Adam and Emily lying lifeless in the wreckage. But when you see the two men slumped in their seats, necks twisted at unnatural angles, neither is familiar. Relief washes over you, mingling uneasily with guilt.

“They’re nobodies,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Butcher. “Collateral damage.”

His hand falls heavy on your shoulder. “The hard part’s over,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “It gets easier from here.”

You desperately want to believe him. 

You both turn your attention to the back of the van. Butcher grips one of the broken doors and yanks it free with a grunt. Inside, a sleek black lockbox gleams ominously. Without hesitation, Butcher brings his boot down on it, cracking it open.

Inside are rows upon rows of vials, their green liquid glowing faintly in the fading light. You pick one up, holding it between your fingers and marveling at its beauty. The liquid seems alive, swirling and shimmering with an otherworldly energy.

And then, without thinking, you hurl the vial at a nearby tree. You watch in awe as the glass shatters, the glowing substance splattering across the bark and dripping onto the forest floor.

“Shit—I don’t know what came over me—” you start, but Butcher is already laughing, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Fuckin’ diabolical,” he says, grabbing a vial and smashing it under his boot. You both gape at the way it explodes under his foot, staining his boot like a glow stick, before you burst into shared laughter. 

You both fall into a wild, unhinged rhythm, smashing vial after vial. The forest around you glows eerily, the remnants of V2 painting the trees and ground in streaks of neon green. Laughter bubbles out of you, uncontrollable and cathartic, as the absurdity of your destruction takes hold.

When only one vial remains, Butcher reaches for it, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. We should keep one. For testing. Just in case.”

He looks at you, then smirks. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You keep me around for more than that.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something darker, more intense.  The air shifts between you, the laughter forgotten as your proximity feels suddenly charged. Whatever force is behind the constant push and pull of your attraction to Butcher is now pushing in full force, the glowing green crime scene around you fading into nothing. It's just you and him and the screaming urge inside of you to untether. 

Butcher advances toward you, pulling your face into his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. This time you get the chance to react, the opportunity to reciprocate. And you do, wholeheartedly. You pull at the lapels of his jacket, fingers fumbling for purchase in his wild hair. His hands move over your body, down your back and across your ass, squeezing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are wild. “Someone’s gonna notice the skid marks and the guardrail. We’re gonna have company soon if we don’t move.”

“Back to the motel?” you ask, bold and breathless.

His answer is immediate. “Yeah.”

Without another word, he grabs your hand, practically pulling you back up the ravine toward the van.

You had a taste of Butcher's penchant for speeding earlier, but something about the way he races down the road back to the motel now has butterflies erupting in your stomach. His right hand is placed firmly on your left thigh, your own hand keeping his there. You're ashamed to admit that his touch alone is driving you crazy. 

Thank god you never had time to return the key this morning, because you both race back to the room, his mouth in your ear, arms encircling your waist as you fumble to unlock the door. The second the door closes behind you, he has you pushed up against the door, his tongue parting your lips and hands digging into your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lets a hand fall to your ass, squeezing tightly. He lifts you up, wrapping both of your legs around his middle. You moan at the way his hands explore you, the closeness of your bodies. 

“Do that again,” he instructs. 

“Make me,” you dare. 

He throws you down on the bed, both of you using the opportunity to work your shirts off. He spends an unabashed moment staring directly at your tits, chest heaving. Like you're a work of art he can't wait to defile. You unbutton your pants before Butcher pulls them off of you, leaving you bare before him, save for your underwear. He crawls up onto the bed, knees nudging your legs open, his imposing frame towering over you. 

“You have no idea how goddamn much I've thought about this,” he admits. Your eyes search his face, hands combing through his hair. He kisses you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, before moving down to place licks along your collarbone. He moves down to your nipples, your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up in silent request. 

“Please,” you beg. “Don't stop.”

And, with your permission, he practically rips the soft cotton as he pulls them down, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders. You share a glance, both with bated breath, before he finally puts his mouth on you, eating you like a man starved. 

Your head tilts back involuntarily as he licks at you, alternating between languid, savoring strokes, his wide tongue exploring deep inside of you, and quick, tight little circles over your clit. You've never been the kind of woman to be particularly loud or vocal in bed, a complaint you'd heard from lovers in the past. But now the moans fall freely as you fall apart on Butcher's tongue. Your sounds only serve to egg him on, his fingers digging deeply into your plush inner thighs, his growls reverberating through your pussy, matching your low moans. You barrel embarrassingly quickly toward the edge. 

“‘m so close,” you whimper. 

He doesn't stop, every determined movement a silent encouragement for you to chase your high. 

Your hands reach down, tangling in his messy hair. He responds, deepening the push of his mouth against your core, rhythmically drawing his fingers back and forth against your inner thighs. Your fingers clench around the tendrils of his hair, pulling so hard you know it must hurt him. He doesn't seem to notice, his rhythm never stalling. Then, starbursts exploding behind your eyelids as you fall over the edge, legs clamping involuntarily around his head. 

Dizzying, pure, unadulterated bliss.

Head falling back against the pillow, you're sure you've never come this hard before. Your limbs are absolutely weightless, cheeks flushed. A euphoric smile on your lips stretches so wide you're certain you look deranged. 

But not to Butcher. 

“You're so bloody beautiful,” he says from between your legs, and you can do nothing but laugh deliriously in response. 

He gazes up at you, working his way back up between kisses to your stomach and swirling his tongue over your pert nipples. You grasp a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him up to kiss him on the mouth, your other hand reaching down to encircle his hard length. 

You're pleasantly surprised at how much of him there is, pumping his thick length several times before you position him at your entrance. 

You feel his body jolt involuntarily as his cock makes contact with the wetness he just created.

“You sure?” he asks, and you nod, words refusing to form on your lips. 

He shifts his hips forward and you gasp sharply as he breaches you. You reach your other hand down to caress his ass cheek, pulling him in deeper, desperate for more.

“Fuck yes,” you moan. “Yes, Billy, just like that.”

That's all he needs before he's driving himself deep, stopping only when he's fully seated inside of you. You gasp as he stretches you out, like he's splitting you right down the middle. He pulls your knee up, hooking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. You whine at the fullness, earning a growl from him. 

“You like this, baby?” he asks as he pulls back, looking down to where your bodies connect before plunging himself back into you. “Fuck, because I really like this.”

“R‒really like this,” you manage to sputter out. “P‒please, please, fuck me Billy.”

“I got you, love,” his voice is raw. He sets a punishing pace, his cock filling you over and over and over again, pushing you toward the brink of something you've never experienced before. 

Your hands wander over him, tracing every scar, fumbling through his hair, squeezing his ass as you pull him in even deeper. You want to memorize everything about this, the sweet aroma of his sweat, the weight of him atop you, the stream of consciousness filth that flows from his lips as he falls more and more pussy drunk. 

He reaches down, thumb on your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. His mouth explores your chest, dividing his attention between your nipples and sensitive, open neck. You bound toward your release, fingers scraping down his broad back. 

“Fuck, fuck, Billy, I'm gonna come,” you moan between huffs. He continues, pace unrelenting. 

Then, stars. 

Expanding blooms of light, full-body eruption. Sweet release, a dynamite stick in your core, exploding out your mouth in a silent scream. You heave around him, bucking your hips, impaling yourself deeper on his cock. He fucks you through it, half words falling from his lips into your mouth. 

Tha's right. 

Mm, baby. 

You go’ it. 

It's all too much, the soft moans escaping your mouth, the image of you in ecstasy before him, falling apart on his cock. He's too close behind you to stop now. 

“Fuck, you're gonna make me come. Where d’you want it?” he asks frantically. 

You can't help yourself. “Inside,” you beg. 

He really doesn't try to make it a habit of denying you, and he certainly won't start now. He groans, spilling himself inside of you. You moan at the heat that grows between your legs. 

He collapses atop you, the weight of him pushing you I to the cheap, springy mattress. You feel the wetness spill out onto the bed beneath you. 

“Holy shit,” you manage to get out between gasps for air. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit is right,” he agrees. 

Over the next eight or so hours, you and Butcher acquaint yourselves with each other, very, very, closely. On the bed, on the floor, against the dresser, in the shower, on the bed, again. You speak only a few times in rushed half sentences, too preoccupied with finding out just how many orgasms you can achieve in one go to think about much else. All of the tension that has stewed since the day Butcher first laid eyes on your dazed face has been unleashed in Room 206 at the Piney Point Motel. You stop only long enough for Butcher to drive twenty minutes down the highway to retrieve a bag of greasy fast food, hastily devoured fuel to allow you both to continue at least a few more times. 

By the time you both succumb to your utter exhaustion, you're sweat-sticky and bone-tired, with a soreness between your legs you know is going to have you walking funny tomorrow. You don't notice it though, because Butcher has you pulled in his arms, lips on your ear, your heart firmly in the palm of his hand. 

@bluemerakis @mystic-writings @imherefordeanandbones

[a-most-beloved-fool]

If Spock and Jim merged into one being (no euphemism here lol) like Tuvix, what do you think the personality of the new being would be like? What impact do you think that would have had on the lives of both of them after they separated again? I love your headcanons, thanks for the answers!

thanks for the question!! <3

Hmmm... I think they would work pretty well as one being, actually. I'm thinking about all of those quotes from Roddenberry about how Kirk and Spock were supposed to represent two halves of a whole person, so I have to assume that they would be quite content. Though, disclaimer as I continue: I have not yet seen any of Voyager - there might be aspects of Tuvix's combination that I don't take into account because I don't know they exist. If so, uh, sorry. My bad.

For the sake of avoiding confusion, I'll call the merge Kirok (after the name Kirk chose when he lost his memories in The Paradise Syndrome). (Also, I fear that calling him "Kock" would have... deleterious effects on the readability of this post... for no reason at all...)

I do think that Kirok would, overall, have the best parts of Kirk and Spock. Combined, they are tactically fearsome. With Kirk's intuition and understanding of people and Spock's knowledge of statistics and science, Kirok is brilliant. However, I do think that Kirok would be a worse captain in practice than if Kirk and Spock simply had a mental bond. Part of the brilliance of Kirk and Spock as a command team is that, while they very much respect one another and take the other's opinion into account, they do also. regularly ignore each other's advice. And this is usually to their benefit! They each take risks that the other wouldn't, and, often, it saves them (in part because they always back each other up, even when doing things they don't agree with. Spock will be like "this is unwise" and Kirk will say "maybe, but I'm doing it anyways" and Spock will just... go with it.). But, if they were one person, I think that impulsiveness would be tempered. The Kirk part would have a brilliant idea, the Spock part would say "wait, there is too much risk, we can make a better plan," and then Kirok would lose his chance to act. When they're separate people Spock is ride-or-die for all of Kirk's decisions, but when they're one person, the Spock half won't always allow those decisions to be made at all (and also won't necessarily be able to tell when he does need to rein things in a bit). (Also Kirk and Spock both tend to be reckless, and then rely on the other to save them - as Kirok, who would back him up when he needed it? Bones would, but he's a medical officer. He simply can't do everything they would have. And, no matter how good of a first officer Kirok got (probably Sulu?), they couldn't be that good.)

I also think that Kirok wouldn't be quite as at ease with his position on the ship as Spock and Kirk individually were. The Spock part of him loves science far too much to just abandon it. He wants to spend time in the labs! He wants to make discoveries! Likewise the Kirk part of him can't truly be anything but a Captain. So, Kirok stays a captain, but he's less passionate about it (or, rather, more passionate about things that aren't it). This doesn't actually affect Kirok's satisfaction - it just affects his performance and relationships with others. He might spend off-duty time working on science experiments (which he can no longer do during shift, due to captaining) and neglect forming bonds with his crew, and he might place more focus than usual on scientific discovery missions.

As for the crew... Well, it's not as weird of a change as they expected. As expected, Kirok is less outwardly friendly than Kirk, and more outwardly friendly than Spock, but he's - cohesive. He still feels like their commanding officers. His humor tends to be a bit drier than Kirk's was, but he's a very compassionate and reasonable captain. (Tbh I tend to think that Kirk is actually more of a hardass than Spock (people just assume Spock is worse due to being Vulcan), so some crewmembers are surprised when Kirok is more lenient about certain things than Kirk would have been. Not lenient about cruelty or anything genuinely important to the safety of the ship, but about other things.) But, he's still not as good at making personal connections as Kirk was, and he's still inclined to spend too much time in the labs, so things aren't perfect.

Really, I think that the person having the worst time of things would be Bones, lmao. He'd have to deal with his Best Friend suddenly being the same person as The Guy He Affectionately Antagonizes (totally not a friend no how could you even think that). I think he'd be more lost than anyone else about how to address Kirok. Is this Kirk, his old friend, who he can be truly comfortable with, or is this Spock, who he snipes at and who snipes at him in turn? Who can he turn to, when the man he normally approaches for comfort is now the same being as one he doesn't want to seem too weak in front of? Does he turn to anyone else, in the meantime, or does he weather it alone?

Kirok himself, though, is actually pretty okay with the change. The different parts of himself simply - mesh well together. It's very satisfying for him, if not for his career and those around him. There's some minor bits of tension, especially regarding changes in biology and telepathic status, but, for the most part, he's doing well. The things you might expect to be major points of tension somehow... aren't. They compromise remarkably easily. (No meat, yes logic, no emotional suppression, yes casual touching, no casual relationships, yes meditation, etc.) And the Kirk and Spock parts of him both enjoy the closeness, the sense of knowing they now have for one another. They're one person, and know themself completely as they've always longed to know each other completely. (he does miss playing chess against someone who could beat him, though!)

Now, because I am Spirk-brained, I also think there's potential for Kirok to have Very Confused Feelings about discovering that the two parts of himself each had secret feelings for the other prior to the merge. There could be this odd sense of loss - like, yes, they are now technically one with one another, but they also completely missed out on their shot at a romantic relationship. They mourn what they could have had. The Spock part, especially, mourns the potentially for a telepathic bond (because with how smoothly they've integrated with one another, it surely would have been a strong one). So, as much as Kirok does enjoy existing as Kirok, I think he might be more willing to attempt separating back into two parts than I believe Tuvix was.

And, when they're two separate people again, they both feel like they're missing some part of themself, even once they've begun their new romantic relationship - but quickly discover that a mental link between them fills that hole. (And then, of course, because they are hopeless and in love, the "medicinal mental link" very quickly just becomes a marriage bond. They're like "well, we've already been one person and liked that well enough... a marriage bond is hardly anything different!" To Spock's endless pleasure, they are highly compatible and have a remarkably strong bond.) The mental link also allows them to have the same quick reaction times and combined brilliance of Kirok without the negative side effects of their own individual strengths being tempered. (they're also like. annoyingly codependent for a bit after Kirok's separation. oh boy are they always touching. "it gives them emotional security." bones looks at them in disgust (he loves it).)

Or, if we wanted to be McSpirk-brained... I'm enjoying the imagery of Kirok (who both had crushes on Bones as well as on one another) just directing all of that missed romantic potential onto Bones, who is... like, he's not not into it (Kirk was hot, Spock was hot, ergo Kirok is hot), but he also misses and loved his Original friends, and so he is very torn between accepting Kirok's advances and trying to find a way to split them apart again. (Flustered Bones, flustered Bones!! I do love flustered Bones!! He is blushing and stammering and having multiple ethical crises all at once. They never covered this in Starfleet Medical...) He also doesn't quite know whether Kirok's feelings truly belonged to both Kirk and Spock or not, and doesn't think that Kirk or Spock would truly act on it if they were in their normal state, so a small selfish part of him wonders if that's the only chance he has to be with them (even if it's not quite the same 'them' he fell in love with). And then, of course, there's the fear that trying to get back the original Kirk and Spock will actually just kill them! Yeah, poor Bones has a rough time of things. But, when everything is fixed, he does still wind up getting two boyfriends out of it. It all works out in the end?

[ultrakill-confessions]

V1 illness how to cure?/all of this is srs.

Once I was thirsty and my mind went "I need fuel" LIKE HUH? AND THIS HAPPENED A COUPLE OF TIMES how did it get this bad that my brain thinks im v1 ultrakill

A lot of times I forgot that I'm not v1 irl and get jumpscared by seeing my reflection

I'm so obsessed with that THING I carry a little printed cut out of it everywhere I go And

when no one is around

I take it out and place it on random places and take pictures of it... And talk with it..

When my illness started I bought the lustfully beautiful v1 bodypillow..........and everyday since, I wait for it to arrive, I count the days with no v1 the hours that it's still not here with me.. Me v1 and little printed out cut out of v1 in my hand with my v1 sketch book with my bad v1 drawings inside of my v1 sketchbook my v1 while I am v1 sketchbook but no. No V1

LEGIT started to say prayers before bed that it will ship and lay next to me while I continue to read all the fanficion that exists about v1, or fanfiction that v1 is in, EVERY FANFICTION. some have been an experience...to say the least, v1 wouldn't approve or think that "it's emotion funny". when it will be in MY own bed I'll tuck it in (it's been 28 days 15 hours and 17 minutes since I ordered it) and when I leave to provide us.. To go to the dreadful place called SCHOOL I'll give it coins and leave with a tear in my eye..

While my days continues it will come into my mind

I'll think about it waiting for me in my bed in that pose...rose in its mouth face eye... Knowing it is the only creature I can call a friend?...

Knowing if I'll meet my demise (aka get my exam finals back)

It will feed on me and delete my search history (and hopefully won't look at it, or leak it on here)

As well for the bodypillow I wrote a review on the ultrakill stickers (they have a v1 Vone) and how newblood prevented me to get a v1 sticker for my v1 notebook (only v1 allowed) there will be no future with my v1 bodypillow without no v1 sticker. I described vile disgusting sinful things that I would do to it when it arrives in that review... I am filled with regrets. I'm sorry v1 ultrakill

And when the V1 plushies restock. AND WHEN THE V1 PLUSHIES COME BACK. When they do heh I don't care about the shipment being more expensive then V1 this is v1. Your own personal hugble killing machine.

Bonus

When I played 4-2 secret I started crying

Everytime I read a "yayy" in my v1 filled head I read it in its voice it's a v1 reference. (The giananni steams have this sample of v1 saying yayy if you don't know what I'm referencing)

I always think of cosplaying v1 but the thing is every ultrakill fan in my country is somehow straight and racist. So there will no point if I can't share my billon v1 headcanons and my v1 personality graph (I have a graph exploring v1, v1 is a spectrum of personalities LIKE I CAN'T PICK ONE I LIKE I LIKE ALL OF THEM I can see most of them fitting for v1 in a way I will not share the graph because this is already too long of a v1 rant

I NEEDED more v1 content I was desperate for more content of v1 I bought Robux (I DIDN'T EVEN PLAY ROBLOX BEFORE THIS) to cosplay it in games and put it in silly scenarios v1 met Wheatley portal real (I have a private discord server that I send all the v1 roblox screenshots it's called v1)

I'm not mentally ill right? And no way ANY one is reading this

-

[aggieharkness]

I haven't slept yet today so sorry about the time and if my datalogy is wrong. I have to say that today I read your story about Lilia with the reader who was overloading herself and this showed me how I have this self-destructive behavior more present in me than I would like or what would be healthy to be honest, and because I don't have or let anything stop me as I continue to tire myself physically and psychologically, I end up in this loop of knowing that I should slow down and not being able to slow down without feeling guilty. I feel like every day I'm trying to fill a glass of water that's overflowing, and because I think it's all because I can't be good enough, I try to fill the glass even more. Honestly, I don't know what came over me to want to share this with you, I even apologize for that, but I think it came because deep down I think I might end up reaching the same level as the reader, and for the first time I worried about this habit that I have. Above all I must say that I really liked the story, really a lot and know that I can't wait to get to the next ones, and thank you for real.

First off all, as soon as you read this or even before you do so, go to sleep. Lilia says it and I'm saying it, you need rest dear. Second of all, don't apologise for needing to vent, everyone needs to say the things that they keep deep in their chests and I'm honoured to have read your words. I understand you perfectly, I know how it feels to not be able to stop due to guilt, to push through when you are about to collapse but know that stopping, sitting down and simply breathing won't make the world fall apart. It will keep on spinning, yes, but you can make life wait for a moment, as much time as you need. This society has taught us to never stop working or studying and that is just wrong. Dear, leave the glass on the counter and let it rot, you need to rest so that you can give it your best the next day and if people don't let you, walk away. It's hard, I know, but like Lilia said you need to say no and take a step back. I'm also really glad that you liked the story and I hope that it's brought you so level of comfort and grounding and if you ever need to talk, know that even though I don't know you, I'm here, Lilia’s here, always.

Now go to sleep or I'll find your address and tuck you in myself! 😉😊

[satureja13]

While Sai and Kiyoshi implement the Astromech scanners they'd bought on Batuu into Great A'Tuins systems and Skully and Malfoy watch the bridge,

Vlad is holding Ji Ho in his arms. Ji Ho is still exhausted from traveling and the stress over Winterfest and New Year. Vlad feels over the Bond that he is on the verge of sleep. Since they still haven't figured out how to properly communicate, it's the best time to ask this one question that is haunting him since they left the First Order Headquarter... He would never dare asking Ji Ho this while he's fully conscious. Maybe Ji Ho would even lie to him to not make him upset. But he needs to know. Vlad whispered: "Did he touch you?" ... Ji Ho was already breathing deeply and snuggled even closer: "... don't worry ..."

'Don't worry'?! Vlad expected an honest answer from the core of Ji Ho's unconscious - and all he says is 'don't worry'?! Vlad is even more upset than before. If this Sith touched Ji Ho, he would kill him! They are still in Batuu's orbit until they'll continue their odyssey to hunt down Tiny Can and try to track the meteorites. It's now or never. Kylo and Vlad already dueled before. No one won though. But Vlad feels he'd have the upper hand when he'd let his hatred and wrath consume him. (Yeah, Vlad. That's the exact pathway over to the dark side!)

Vlad got up. He's so upset. He can't lie here beside Ji Ho. His rage would disturb Ji Ho's sleep over the Bond... Lenny also tries to encourage Vlad to follow him so Ji Ho can sleep in peace ^^'

He went to the bridge to tell Sai and Kiyoshi about what happened. But they are busy and only listen half heartedly. Time is money and they can't afford staying here much longer. Parking a ship as huge as Great A'Tuin here at Batuu is expensive as hell! So Skully nudged Vlad to tell him and Malfoy his sorrows... Well, Malfoy and Vlad hadn't the best start and Skully is no one you'll want to have around but Vlad needs to vent or he'll combust ö.Ö'

And of course Sai and Kiyoshi listened. Saiwa: "Gods Vlad! So you finally have Ji Ho in your arms at night. Nothing is holding you back anymore. That's what you ever wished for. You even died for him. And then you do something that stupid? It's as if you don't want to be happy, huh?" Kiyoshi: "I think it's very wise of Ji Ho. Would you love him less if Kylo had touched him? No. So what's the point of knowing? Seeking revenge? And sacrifice the peace we just established? What would be the consequences? For us, the people on Batuu and the diplomatic relationships. Is it really worth it? 'Don't worry' was the best he could say. If he said 'No' you'd feel his worries you might not believe him and his disappointment over you accusing him over the bond and you'd think he lied." Skully: "Man. I always thought such a Bond must be the peak of love and romance. Always knowing how the other feels. But in realtity it's a course!" Then Vlad's phone blared:

'Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

Every move you make And every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you'

The Police - Every Breath you take Vlad: "How did you do that?" ö.ö But Skully just chuckled. And Malfoy yelled at Vlad - in chicken... And this how they ended this stupid 'Vlad denying himself to be happy' conversation...

Since Vlad (Jack's best friend) and Sai (Jack's oldest friend) are here together, Kiyoshi thought it's time they learn that Jack and him had scratched the 'just' from 'we're mates, just mates'... Kiyoshi: "Jack and I are having a romantic relationship again." ... No one said anything. After all Jack had to go through during his relationship with Kiyoshi and after their break-up. The nightmares and the months of pain. And Kiyoshi also paid for it. 60 years he'd been suffering in this tree... They both almost gave their lives. Kiyoshi also his humanity - almost. But they are fated mates. And even Ms Coombes had to admit that troublemakerJack is the reason why their precious minor deity/demon Kiyoshi is still with them.

Vlad knows how much Kiyoshi loves Jack. They'd spend nights together beside Jack's pod when he was in his coma. So Vlad came to the conclusion that Jack's happyness is the most important and he'll support him in his decision to try again with Kiyoshi. Saiwa though, is worried beyond measure. Jack is like a little brother to him and Sai wants to spare him from getting hurt again... Saiwa: "Omg why?! You just left all that crap behind you just to do it all over again? After you healed Jack from his heat you promised us you won't go down that road again!"

But Sai also knows that nothing can keep Jack from wanting what he wants... Kiyoshi tried to reassure them. Kiyoshi: "I'm truely sorry. We tried. But he's my fated mate - and I'm his Alpha. What are we supposed to do? These bonds are holy and we learned the hard way that they can't be broken. I will take good care of Jack and won't let him down again. And if something goes wrong we'll be honest and won't keep anything from you. No secrets anymore. I love Jack and I want to make him happy."

And what is Sai supposed to say to this? He knows he's beaten. He also wants Jack to be happy. They are both grown-ups (yes, Jack too ^^') so who are they to stop them? So he just said: "Ach!"

Kiyoshi: "I' would like to promise that you won't regret it, but even I can't see the future. But I would give my life for him." Vlad: "Fair enough. That must do. Hm? Sai?" Saiwa sighed from the dephts of his soul.

Outtakes

Ji Ho dreaming of Jeb again...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[confused-disaster32]

hi I'm here regarding your tags: Cara's terminal illness? He's not having a good time with it but the presence of his rash means he's in secondary stage, which comes prior to latent, asymptomatic phase. The vast majority of people who suffer from syphilis don't actually live long enough for any other reason to EVER hit the tertiary stage which causes death. I think it's safe to say Caracalla's immune system is weak as all hell and he probably won't be that lucky, but he has the best part of his infection ahead - the part where it stops existing, sometimes for decades, before coming back with a vengeance. In theory, if he made it through the fevers and the rest of all that is going wrong with him in the time we get to know him, eventually, it would ease up. For years.

Also, without Macrinus - Geta was actually coming to learn to play the crowds. He listened to Lucilla when Lucilla chose mercy for Lucius against their rhino rider. He hesitates to make the call to the archers - despite all of his rage and hurt - when Lucius refuses to execute Acacius on command. Without Macrinus egging him on, he was hearing the crowd. Despite everything.

This is such a cope but it's also all true. They had hope. They're so goddamn young, but they were going through their hard lessons, and at least one of them was learning. The other one needed bed rest and antibiotics.

Oh - the terminal part I tagged that mostly cause I saw someone else who tagged it the same way and saw that syphilis could possibly get to a worst stage which I knew you could treat with antibiotics nowadays but wasn't entirely sure what happened back then when that wasn't really a thing.. (though I'll admit that I should've done a bit more of a search before that because I don't have a very in depth knowledge of how syphilis works and didn't know how long syphilis takes to get to the terminal point) - and honestly I'm still kinda learning a lot about their characters, which is why I honestly adore your posts though I do still always feel quite awkward/bad whenever I mischaracterise them cause they're genuinely such wonderful characters and I think sometimes I'm a bit too caught up with what they were in the films (manipulated and therefore not rlly having a great time...) and I don't give enough time to think about what they could've been had things gone different ways such as if Geta had had a chance to continue to grow as a person/emperor without Macrinus messing around in the background (though I was mostly basing that tag off of the fact that on the night of Geta's death people were really starting to riot and I didn't think enough about the fact that those rioters don't even get in that night cause like the next day Caracalla has a chance to announce the new consuls and eventually continue with the games and stuff - so my brain decided to just hand me a scenario that wasn't even all that canon compliant in the first place).

Idk if I'm actually getting my thoughts down as much as I'd like bc it's a little late for me rn but

Thank u for this tho bc I much prefer when someone tells me when I'm off then they just let me be cause I hate it when I accidentally mischaracterise a character esp if I'm fond of them 😭

[hazbinned]

Angel Dust's accusatory words cut through Vox's train of thought like a paring knife. He snapped his head around to glare at him, but the look on his touch-screen face was not sufficiently laced with poison. What it lacked in animosity, it made up for in discomfiture; red eyes flicked to and fro across the battered visage of Angel's person, cyan teeth gritting together as if to stop Vox from saying something callous.

Then it clicked. Angel thought Vox knew.

The television Overlord veered back, humiliation seeping in.

"What?! You- You seriously think I was watching that?" he gawked. "I have a life outside of you. I do!"

He hastily reached for the rag and doused it in a fair amount of rubbing alcohol, clambering around (and halfway onto) the sink so he could dab at the worst of the arachnid's incisions.

"I'm... and I don't... I didn't see it. I was tuned into a different station."

Vox was telling the truth— but as he sat there, straining to mend the cuts in Angel's back, he wondered if the spider would believe him.

"I could go play it back," the media mogul continued, "But I haven't. While I was getting ready for Val to come home, I was on the phone with Velvette. Doing..." He reached for the tweezers, pulled the fur aside and pried the first sliver of glass out of the porn star's body. "Hands-on, real-world things. I was hoping for a date night with Val."

Hence the food. And the greeting. And his huff-and-puff tantrum.

Vox plunked the shard into the trash bin near their feet.

"I'm hard-pressed to find anything to celebrate," he admitted.

He repeated the extraction process a few more times, until most of the glass was out and white fluff was scrubbed of red.

Angel did not have to believe him. Angel didn't owe him anything. Vox had, one too many times, reveled in the spider's distress. He'd delighted in watching the poor arachnid be 'put in his place' by Val— the pleading, the punishments, even the intimacy. It had felt like revenge, somehow. Revenge for stealing the moth away from him. It had been enticing. Rewarding.

Addicting.

Vox was an addict, and Angel Dust was his favorite drug.

He didn't understand why he was feeling as sickened by it all as he was, but it felt to him now that the very thing that had brought him ecstasy for so many years had suddenly turned sour and curdled.

Age-old milk upon his tongue.

He was offended that the spider had even accused him. But why?

Did he care about Angel all of a sudden? Was that moment in the hallway some kind of turning point for the two of them?

Vox had apologized to Angel then, but it was going to take more than a 'sorry' to fix his gory trail of misdeeds.

Flicking the last few glass-fragments into the garbage, the sinner shifted a little bit on his knees and then pressed the cloth harder against the wounds to soak up any residual bleeding.

"... You don't have to tell me," he conceded after a while. Quieter than before. "I'll delete it."

Vox pulled the rag away and ran it under the sink.

"You can watch."

Then, he turned to him.

"Where else does it hurt?"

Aside from the obvious, he thought as he blinked at him, the 'obvious' here being Angel Dust's hands. Hypnosis might have undone the emotional scarring left by the shattered cup, but it certainly hadn't left any effect on the physical.

Were there any remnants stuck in Angel's chest? Legs? Lower back? He knew he had to get to the ones in the exposed flesh near his collarbone, but he figured he'd get the rough of it out of the way first.

"I mean, you'll have to pull the top part of the dress off if you want me to bandage it," Vox added. "But that... is... uh, your call."

Vox's efforts to coax Angel from his frantic frenzy went entirely unnoticed, a pinprick amid the punctures as the glass slashed his hands. He could fix this. Shards shredded the stained carpet and sliced the spider's flesh as he gathered the splattered fragments, a harsh and impossible jigsaw puzzle that resisted it's own solving. He could fix this. He could put it back together. He-

The glass spilt from Angel's hands as he was abruptly guided into facing his unlikely saviour, the task forgotten even before the next crucial step to his taming was initiated. The spider's eyes thinned to screwed-up slits as a sea of blue light flooded his vision, blotting out everything that wasn't its source as a sharp fingertip drew him closer. Even if Angel hadn't been disoriented from the alcohol-enhanced dissociation, the split second of realisation before the wave of hypnosis washed over him was nowhere near long enough to put up a fight.

Red light bled into blue as the television's all-seeing eye expanded, rings swimming and swirling within them like ripples in slow-moving water. Angel slumped to his knees, his face tilted further upward by the Overlord's metallic claw as the rest of his body fell like dead weight. Had he been in a fitter state of mind, the actor might have tried fruitlessly to fight the loss of control he was experiencing, screeching and flailing within the padded cell of his own mind until he inevitably succumbed to it's influence.

But, for the first time this awful night, Angel felt relaxed. This was what he had been looking for at the bottom of the bottle, in his agreement to let Val drug him. Loosened and numb, the pain and torment had been dulled to a barely-perceptible tingling from somewhere so far away that it could no longer be reached, somewhere no longer real. All that existed was that tranquil blue light with its scarlet centre, drawing Angel in, in, in...

Angel didn't break the glass. Vox did.

That must have been what happened. That's what it felt like as Angel's limbs softened like rubber, all but melting into the carpet.

I broke it, Angel. You saw it happen.

Yes, he did. He saw Vox break the glass. He saw it happen.

You don't want to clean up my mess...

It didn't even hurt, the glass splinters now embedded in his hands as well as his back. He might as well have been holding cotton wool. Val might as well have thrown him into a soft, comfortable bed of plush pillows and blankets.

...So stop touching it.

By the time the trance had started to wear off, Angel was being escorted away from the scene of the crime, leaning against the other as he stumbled alongside him. He must have zoned out, he realised, wobbling slightly as he was released onto the stool. Blinking blearily under the synthetic light, he watched dumbly as Vox rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. What was he doing? Before the arachnid had the chance to question him, the Media Overlord met Angel with a question of his own.

Did the dress show everything? Well, no, was Angel's initial thought: he had to leave something to the imagination, or else-

Oh. He meant the glass.

A shrug of one shoulder was all the spider gave in response. How should he know? Val had given him a strict time limit to get ready - all he cared about was squeezing into something tight-fitting and provocative. He wasn't accounting for exactly how many of his newly acquired wounds were on show. He didn't want to think about it.

Why did Vox even care?

The answer to this was hinted at as a damp wash cloth was pressed to Angel's forehead, the television demon posturing him like a doll so that one of his many hands was holding the cloth in place. Was this... Was Vox taking care of him?

In all the times that Val had taken Angel back to the Penthouse in a similar sorry state, Vox had never so much as batted an eye. In fact, other than the poorly concealed jealousy, the Overlord's reaction was most often a sick, smug gloating that oozed from that slimy grin of his when he realised that Angel was hurt. That Valentino had hurt him. That even if Val took Angel to bed that night, he wasn't going to enjoy it.

Snapped back into reality by Vox's piercing whistle, Angel looked up wearily. The collection of supplies that Vox had gathered looked medical - was he about to play nurse for him? Pick the glass shards from his flesh that he had presumably watched his partner crush him into with rapturous glee?

Was this what it had come to?

A swift moment's judgement told Angel that dragging the stool across the room would be a poor decision in his compromised state, so he opted for the sink. Pushing himself up onto the porcelain stung his hands - he must have cut them on the glass that Val shoved him into.

"What, it ain't enough ta watch it on the cameras? Ya need the commentary, too?" Angel replied scornfully. Vox just couldn't resist, could he? "Look, can I at least save the play by play account a' bein choked an' slammed inta broken glass 'til I'm less, ya know. Full a' glass?"

What the hell was this? Some roundabout way for Vox to get his kicks? Or was this him trying to actually help him, unable to restrain himself from prodding at the wound before stitching it up?

"Why're ya helpin' me?" Angel sighed, slurred from the combination of booze and exhaustion. "Ain't punchin' the air in celebration more yer style?"

[product05]

UTAU short comic - HIDE AND SEEK

Background: After the events of the erasure of Torntale's last timeline and Chris(k)'s arrival at the Omega Timeline, TK asked for their help in locating TL!Frisk's whereabouts to prevent anomalies within other universes' timelines. Both of them traverse through the Timeverse, finding any disruptions that may hint Eraser's (TL!Frisk) location.

Had the urge to draw them after looking back to my old concepts. I actually lost motivation in continuing this mid process 😅 Initially, I did not prepare a sketch for this 😆 I went straight ahead drawing the line art (except for that poorly drawn perspective).

Torntale & TL!Frisk © me

TK!Sans © @perfectshadow06 (sry this is my 2nd tag from this week 😆)