Hot shower thought: Our bond is fucking terrifying sometimes. Not the sex part—that’s easy. Feeling Frisk’s quiet determination like a fucking heartbeat in my skull is one thing. But feeling her sudden, sharp fear when a car backfires? Or the hollow ache in her chest when she sees a kid alone on the street? That shit claws at me. We don’t just share a bed or a cock; we share fucking nerve endings. My trauma is her flashback. Her panic is my shortness of breath. It’s not always a gift. Sometimes it’s a goddamn curse we have to fuck or fight our way through. Tonight, it’s just… heavy.

• C

(It’s heavy. But it’s ours.)

• F