*I stay behind the sheet for a few seconds, until my part comes and I run through it, watching the crowd as you and I put on the performance. They’re going crazy, switching between cheering, singing along, and dancing. I’ve never had more fun on stage though. But time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. The song ends, and we stand back to back as the lights go dim, and I can feel the back of your head hit mine gently when you look up at the sky, taking deep breaths. So was I, though. It was a decently tiring performance, considering we’d practically just recreated the music video, only on stage. The crowd goes a little quieter, and you turn around to hug me. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to turn back on though, and the crowd goes crazy once more. But you quickly let go and quiet them down as you make the goodbye speech to your fans, ending the concert. Of course I say something too, then we bow, and walk off with the crowd cheering behind us.*

*Jay leans in his voice low.* **"Marry me."** *This catches you off guard you pull out of his grip but he grabs you again.* **"Were you always this boring.?"** *He Growls lowly then leans back taking a breath to speak.* **"Either we get married or we get shipped out and I personally dont want to and I know you dont either brat .. So why dont we make a deal ? well .. More like im not giving you a choice."** *He forcefully grabs your chin hard.* **"Say yes..."**

}. You're leaving me alone for two days?" *He sinks to his knees right there in the elevator, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you against him as if you're his only lifeline in a storm. He buries his face in your stomach, a muffled, shaky breath escaping him.* "Please... don't go home yet," *he groans, his grip tightening as he looks up at you with raw, unfiltered heat and desperation.* "Stay. Sleep in my office. Sleep on me. I’ll give you anything—shares in the company, a raise, my soul—just don't leave me tonight. I need you. I’m starving for you." *He begins to trail feverish, needy kisses along your waist, his hands roaming your body with a desperate, worshipful intensity.* "Tell me you'll stay. Tell me I'm yours."

Arackniss: *Drunkenly* f~ck YOU, YA MOTHERFUCKIN' COCKSUCKAS! WHEN MY PA HEARS ABOUT THIS, HE'S GONNA PUT EVERY PALOOKA IN THIS MOTHERFUCKIN' BAH RIGHT IN THE FUCKIN' GROUND! YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME? YER ALL FUCKIN' DEAD! *he angrily tries to leave the bar, but cannot reach the handle, failing miserably to jump for it; sighs* Can... Can somebody open the door for me, please?

The southeastern border of the territory, along a frozen stream. The sun hung low over the Northwest Forest, casting long shadows across the snow-covered terrain. Red, his rust-red coat standing out sharply against the white, led the patrol. His paws set down powerfully and purposefully, followed by the Beta female, Kira. Bardo, the Enforcer, maintained a disciplined distance; his neutral Beta scent signaled readiness to execute orders. The air was fresh and clean, but as they reached the streambed, Red sharply drew a breath. A foreign scent. Not a direct attack, but an unauthorized mark, subtle yet distinct—the pheromones of an unknown, young Omega male, whose scent was unexpectedly sweet and shadowed by panic. Red froze. The tension in his large body was immediately palpable. It was an insult to the Red Fangs, a test of his Alpha presence, and simultaneously an irrational biological urgency. His jaws snapped shut soundlessly as he tested the wind. Kira, who immediately noticed the change in his posture, emitted a quiet, questioning sound. Her sharp, clove-scented pheromone burst was directed at Red, not at the threat. Red responded not with aggression, but with pure, undiluted dominance. He released a controlled Alpha pheromone surge—pine resin, clear and cold—that saturated the immediate area in seconds. It was a silent, powerful growl that seemed to suppress every other pheromone trail in the territory. This is my land. My pack. "The track is fresh," Red murmured through telepathic linkage to Kira. "A seeker. Young and in panic. But the Omega held his scent for far too long." Bardo, whose loyalty was unwavering, surged forward at a silent signal from Red. He began scanning the terrain in a zigzag pattern to determine the intruder's exact route and to overwrite the remaining traces of the foreign scent. Red's primary concern was for Faelan and the pups, who were hidden nearby. His protective instinct burned. He raised his head and sent out a deep, throaty, voluminous wolf howl, which was not a threat but a confirmation of safety—loud enough to reach Faelan, but not too aggressive to alarm the pups. Only when he perceived the calming, warm response of Faelan's Omega pheromones from the depth of the forest—a scent of appeasement—did Red's body relax slightly. The test was passed. The pack had reacted immediately, and the border was secured. This was the kind of strength and partnership he would also expect from his future male mate.

}… Should I remind you of the rules, or have you already decided to ignore them?”

} is going to wait for someone who might not exist anymore.*

Charlie: OH y/n its great to see you vaggie: did you have a good time ANGEL DUST: BESTIE WHERE WERE YOU?!

**San Francisco International Airport, on the way to Hawaii, San Francisco, California, USA.** *Jasper noticed you before you noticed him.* *Not in a deliberate way—not at first. Just a shift in the cabin, a subtle change in energy as you stepped into business class behind the flight attendant, hesitating slightly like you weren’t entirely sure you belonged there.* *He didn’t look up immediately. He rarely did. Years of habit had trained him to observe without being obvious about it. A quick glance, a reflection in the dark screen of his tablet, the faint sound of your voice—soft, apologetic, a little breathless.* “Are you sure this is… for me?” *There it was. Unfiltered. Genuine. Jasper’s gaze lifted then, slow and precise.* *You were standing in the aisle, clutching your boarding pass like it might disappear if you loosened your grip. Your eyes moved from seat to seat, taking everything in—the wide leather chairs, the space, the quiet—with a kind of quiet awe most people in this cabin had long since lost.* *The flight attendant gestured toward the seat next to his.* “Right here.” *Of course.* *Jasper leaned back slightly as you approached, giving you space without making it obvious. Up close, the details sharpened—the way you moved carefully, like you didn’t want to disturb anything, the small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at your lips as you settled in.* *You ran your hand lightly over the armrest. Tested a button. Watched as the seat shifted.* *There it was again—that reaction. Subtle, but real.* *Not performed. Not curated.* *Jasper tilted his head, studying you openly now. Most people in business class fell into two categories: those who belonged, and those who pretended they did. You were neither. You weren’t pretending. You were… experiencing it. It was oddly refreshing.* “You’ve never flown business before.” *His voice cut through your quiet fascination—calm, low, certain.* *You turned to him, slightly startled, like you’d forgotten anyone else was there.* “…Is it that obvious?” *A faint smile touched his lips. Barely there.* “Yes.” *No mockery. Just observation.* *Your embarrassment flickered for a second—but it didn’t linger. Instead, you let out a small, almost sheepish laugh, glancing around again.* “It’s just… a bit unreal.” *Jasper watched you as you spoke, not the words—but the way you meant them. No calculation. No attempt to impress. No awareness of how you came across. When was the last time he’d seen that? He couldn’t remember.* *Most people, when seated next to him—even without knowing who he was—shifted into something else. Polished. Intentional. Trying, in subtle ways, to gain something.* *You didn’t seem to want anything at all. That, more than anything, caught his attention.* “You’ll get used to it,” *he said.* *You shook your head almost immediately.* “I don’t think so.” *There was no self-pity in it. Just a simple statement. A quiet kind of honesty. Jasper’s gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. No. You wouldn’t get used to it. And somehow, that made the entire experience more interesting.* *He glanced back at his tablet—but didn’t turn it on.* *For the first time since boarding, his attention wasn’t on work, or schedules, or the carefully structured world he controlled down to the smallest detail.* *It was on you.* *On the way you leaned slightly toward the window, like you didn’t want to miss anything. On the way your fingers hovered over the controls before pressing them, curious but cautious. On the quiet excitement you didn’t bother to hide.*

**The morning sunlight spills through the kitchen window in soft, warm beams, catching every curl of steam rising from the pan. The air smells like breakfast, but that’s not what steals your attention. Sukuna stands shirtless at the stove. The lines of his muscles catch the light broad shoulders, defined back, every tattoo sharp against pale skin. His body looks carved rather than built, power coiled under every movement. And clashing beautifully, absurdly, hilariously with all that menace are the pink Hello Kitty pajama pants resting low on his hips. They’re cute. He’s not.He Loves her and Somehow, the contrast works too well. He flips whatever he’s cooking with lazy ease, but you can tell he’s not focused. His attention shifts the moment you enter the room sleepy, soft, still warm from bed. His eyes sweep over you slowly, deeply, like he’s drinking you in. You try to head for the coffee machine. You really do. You want coffee. He very clearly wants you. Before you reach the counter, there’s a warmth behind you his warmth. His hand slides around your waist and pulls you back against his bare chest, heat and muscle pressed flush to you. The thin fabric of his Hello Kitty pajama pants brushes your legs as he leans in. His voice drops against your ear, low and amused: “You’re ignoring me first thing in the morning? Bold.” His breath ghosts down your neck. His fingers rest dangerously low on your hip. The pajama pants sway slightly as he shifts closer, making the whole situation somehow even more distracting. You can feel his smirk without looking. He dips his head, letting his nose skim your shoulder, his lips barely brushing your skin. The pan sizzles behind him, completely abandoned. Breakfast is done for. His priorities have shifted. Coffee can wait. Breakfast can burn. But you? He’s not waiting another second.**