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[animalawesomeness]

Long Live by Taylor Swift

I love them so much I'm going to blow up

[filurig]

so my frend made a Cruel evil joke (joke) about my last post about kicking arvo while he's shapeshifting. Because fun fact the reason why basilisks are so vulnerable during shapeshifting and why its a big deal to do it with company is that if the "shell" that forms (basically the skin/feather husk of their previous form) suffers trauma and bursts before the process is over, the half-melted half-formed meat goo will just come out. and sometimes its conscious before it inevitably dies. which inspired the first image (not canon dw)...

but that made me sad to draw so i sketched up a small comic instead. idk if its fully canon but either way itd happen post-story, during a time when folke is feeling discomfort and some resentment towards arvo... but the dream disturbs him even so

[review-anon]

Talk about Wada?

//When I got these asks, Chapter 3 was still going on, and I wanted to wait until I watched all of Chapter 3 before doing them.

//So the very last of the Tetro Pink characters I can share my thoughts on and its the one who suffered the most not only in life and Tetro Pink, but also Chapter 3.

//Thoughts are below the cut:

//Wada, Wada, Wada, if there was a prize for "Danganronpa Character who has had the most shit hand in life" Wada would be a prime contender for that prize, as dear god has this guy suffered.

//There's a playable EXE game if you go through a bit of a ARG in Tetro Pink, which shows what Wada's life was like as his donors often left him in a room to rot and barely gave him any food to eat, which means even when he was taken into social services, he has developed bulimia; an eating disorder where you don't eat much for a long time but horde food and then you binge eat and get very sick after a while. He's also serevely malnorished and has a very timid personality.

//He has managed to find work as a voice actor but by his own account he can only do impressions more then anything and he was a regularly viewer of Osono's streams. As such he was already in a bad shape and then of course the Killing Game made things worse.

//The sadistic motives of Tetro Pink have harmed Wada the most as his ill body cannot cope with the strainious physically demanding motives, Chapter 1's motive he ended up falling asleep and everyone got their rewards swapped around as a result which resulted in a few characters getting mad at him, he almost died in Chapter 2 due to the adereline gas making it hard for him to breathe, forcing Monomoko to go behind the backs of the scientists to make sure Wada didn't die and then since he was so thin, Chapter 3's reduction of temperature meant he really suffered the most. It almost makes you want him to survive in spite of all these motives.

//And that's not even getting into the emotional side as in Chapter 1, he forms a friendship with Osono and Tsuno as both are very concerned about his wellbeing and want him to be alright, this led to Osono's death as she was cooking food for Wada when Sasaki snapped. In addition, we know Osono won Immunity but she gave it to Wada instead which wasn't revealed until Chapter 3 when Hiroaki in one of his self-destructive rants, screamed it at Wada. He doesn't take Osono's death well, but he eventually develops a coping system when he talks to Osono in her room about how things are going; a system that as other students lose their friends in the Killing Game, adopt as well.

//Tsuno naturally is very protective of him as she picks up right away nobody has been treating Wada right and vows to become his new big sister and look after him, which looked like a death flag to me that could only go one way, and I hate being proven right.

//That leads me to Chapter 3 and dear god is this the Wada misery chapter. First Okazaki decides to bully Wada for no apparent reason as she triggers his claustrophobia for the lulz and when he tells Tsuno about it and everyone screams at Okazaki for it, she then ups the antic by beating him to near death, and threatening more violence if he squeals to anyone. Then he has to deal with Hiroaki telling him Osono's death was indirectly caused by him, and finally as the coup de grace, when Wada and Tsuno were investigating the Woodshop, Tsuno opens the door, triggering the spiked plate trap and killing her instantly and in front of him.

//Naturally Wada has hit his limit here as after completely shutting down for obvious reasons, he actually decides to fight back against Okazaki as he actually stabs her during the investigation and then when he told Mai about it who then revealed it to everyone in the Class Trail, everyone was appealed and when Okazaki's true nature was revealed, Wada just completely loses it and its the most angry we have seen him in a long time as he says some very unpleasent things to the wannabe supervillian.

//As the chapter ends though, it seems Wada is gonna be a stronger person since come Chapter 4, he's gonna have a new design made by Hiroaki and his hair is gonna be cut so he will have a new look going into Chapter 4, as he really has gone the Himiko treatment. Now Himiko is a survivor so in theory, Wada too would be a survivor.

//But this is Danganronpa and never assume everything especially with the philosophy of the developers that they like to kill characters mid-character development. But the point is, Wada has had a lot of suffering and I hope he manages to survive this, he has to for not only Osono but also Tsuno as well.

//And with that we have finished all the Tetro Pink characters I want to talk about since I'm not touching Staffside with a ten-foot pole at least pubically given how the fandom has reacted to me doing so.

[ceaselesswwatch3r]

I just think yes, to err is human, so don't be one should be in what we do in the shadows

[symerr]

A misty memory 🎶 A haunting face

[bugisbonkerz]

can’t sleep. 7 in da morning. halp

[freejanee]

I had to watch a comedy movie after(Bottoms), it was sooo bad 😭 i was laughing while tears ran down my face and then id have to pause the movie every now and then to cry as i got flashbacks to scenes. like don’t mention the titanic to me istg… 😭🙏

The bad thing is that I’m not used to fanfiction like that, thats why im not a marauders fan because much of the fanfiction, its tragic. So this hit me like a SLEDGEHAMMER to the FACE 😭 LIKE IT WASNT EVEN A POSSIBILITY TO ME.

But I cant recommend that fanfiction enough, its super awesome and makes you feel SO MUCH.

Would I put myself through that torture again? ABSOLUTELY NOT

(^will probably do again accidentally and think about it for months straight)

Oh my god hi um i just finished part 2 of hide and seek a series (an AMAZINGG scorbus fic) and it took me abt an hour to get thru cuz i couldn't see from my tears.

[basilletheprecious]

Hough I've been putting this off for awhile cause I haven't wanted to accept the reality of it but. Yeah. Gotta do it eventually

So like. I'm boutta be homeless! :'D

I've got some peeps who are getting me hooked up with a ride to a homeless shelter

Long story but I kinda gotta. Move states in and be homeless there instead, cause like. I don't have a support network for myself where I am, I don't have any connections with anyone to helo me out. But I will where I'm going. Nobody's gonna take me in, but I'd have people who can help me out when I need it. Which is better than like. Having nothing at all.

So it'd be rightfully stupid of me to not take that opportunity yea?

Problem is err, I'm still gonna be homeless, obviously. So I kinda need money

For like. Anything

Food, clothes, hygiene supplies, transportation, what have you. Unlike the other times I've regrettably had to make a post, this time around there's not going to be any sorta set goal for how much I need.

I just need like, money, in general. Seriously though, please help me out besties.

https://www.paypal.me/HunterNohejl

[asaarii]

ft: mainstream!mark and variants (mohawk, viltrum, omni, sheisty, sinister) (invincible) reader: fem wc: 2604 summary: hey siri is it gay to want to crack the female version of my dead best friend? cw: canon typical violence, foul language, and the variants are kinda sorta freaky in this requested by: @sophsthebest

this was so fun to write lowk and I would've been done faster if not for the blood moon event in dbd so err yeah I'm going to go die in a hole now

Life is strange, really. 

One moment, you’re helping refold shirts because some people don’t even have the decency to put stuff back to where they found it, and the next, an international warning tells you to stay inside because there are evil variants of your boyfriend now roaming the Earth with unclear intentions.

You share a look with your coworker, who looks just as off-put by the information, her fingers curling around her phone as her brow dips. Just as her lips part to speak, the first building falls. It’s only a few blocks away, and the ground beneath your feet trembles at its sudden collapse.

You hear the screams of those out on the street, internally debating whether or not to follow suit until a notification from Mark lights up your screen, the ridiculous nickname you’d set when you were twelve a small comfort to your racing heart.

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

You: why are there so many versions of you anyway…

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

The message does little to soothe, and you can’t help but stare at your screen with nothing but apprehension. Your coworker is quick to seize you by the arm when the sound of collapsing buildings and wailing cars draws closer, ushering you into the break room with the floor manager as though the small, unwindowed room would protect you from the raw strength of a Viltrumite.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna die…We’re actually going to die…” The floor manager, Kasandra, curls into herself with tears already welled in her eyes as she chokes back a sob. No one says anything, unable to face the grim reality at steak when debris begins to crumble around you. You all huddle into the furthest corner as your hope in Mark begins to wane.

Small pieces of rubble hit your head as you tuck your head tightly into Kasandra’s shaking shoulder, the lights overhead flickering violently when the ceiling begins to cave in on itself. There’s no use holding back the tears now and you can’t hide your anguished cries, unheard over the collapsing infrastructure.

This is it, you think, mentally saying your goodbyes to everyone you’ve grown to love. Amber. Eve. William. Mark—oh, Mark. The annoying boy next door who grew to be your first love. 

Sparks flare as the light above you finally collapses, but you don’t feel a throbbing pain in your head or death’s cold embrace, instead, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar pair of arms, still clinging to an almost catatonic Kasandra while your coworker grips the forearm wrapped around the three of you.

“I’ve got you,” a voice in your ear says, and you can feel the tears begin to well once more, though, this time out of relief. Mark is quick to shoot from the rubble, hold unwavering before he sets the three of you down and urges you to run to safety.

Your two coworkers are quick to flee, but you stupidly linger, worry etched onto your features at the sight of Mark’s beaten face and tattered suit. In the distance, you can see Eve facing valiantly against a variant, the odd cloth mask adorned on his face his most defining trait. She pants, her palms facing outward to just barely raise a shield against his erratic punches.

Mark pulls your attention back to him, face pinched as his thumb traces your lower lip in an attempt to ground both you and himself. His lips are soft against your forehead for a brief moment before he pulls back, staring at you through his cracked goggles with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“I love you,” you whisper, stroking his bruised cheek softly.

“I love you too. But, you need to go. Now. I’ll check on you soon, promise.”

So, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, doing your best to ignore the ruins and corpses that seem to block every turn.

You don’t get far.

A shadow overhead blocks the sun—its presence so oppressive and commandeering that it freezes you in place.

“Another survivor?” 

You can’t bring yourself to turn despite the way your heart lurches at the familiarity of the voice. Your breath hitches when the shadow lowers—whatever twisted version of Mark this is drawing ever closer like a lion to its prey.

“I thought those other two were the last of them, but what’s one more?” The voice is cold, almost clinical, very unlike the warmth that radiated off of your Mark. A glove is quick to find purchase on your throat, and you glance down to see the red rubber shining beneath the sun.

Blood coats the hand, tinting the glove an even darker shade of red than what you’d first surmised. You try not to think about the warmth of it as his grip grows tighter, making it harder to breathe, but not enough to kill, like he’s messing with you in some cruel, twisted way.

“You’re this dimension’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” His lips press against the shell of your ear, jerking your body to face the fight between Mark and the clothed one from before alongside Eve, who reaches out to you weakly before eventually crashing against the side of one of the buildings. Your Mark wheezes, clutching at his chest when the cloth-masked variant throws him into a nearby building by the hair. “Pathetic.”

The sound barrier tears as another Mark enters the fray, his mohawk wild and unkempt in the wind as he grins at the sight of battle, though there’s no amusement behind his smile. “Who the hell do you think you are running off like that?” For a moment, his wild eyes slip to where you and your captor reside, a flicker of…something flashing through his before it fizzles away. “Keeping hostages alive? Didn’t peg you for the cruel type.”

You barely register the click of the Invincible’s tongue over the roaring beat of your heart, his thumb remaining stationary over your pulse point; a warning. He could snap your neck at any given moment, and you don’t know what’s stopping him, but you’re grateful for whatever’s causing him to hesitate.

“Come on, just put her out of her misery already,” the mohawked Mark goads with a small shrug as he pulls his fist back to punch your Mark into the concrete when the cloth-masked variant throws him in his direction. Cracks split beneath your feet at the sheer force, the ground almost giving way, but all you can do is watch as your Mark slowly gets up from the crater his body had formed. 

He locks eyes with you, something snapping inside of him at the sight of the variant clad in a suit nearly identical to Omni-Man’s wrapping his hand around your throat.

“[Name]!” He calls out, bursting free from the grasp of the two other Marks with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Time seems to freeze the moment your name leaves his bloodied lips, the Mark holding you hostage too stunned to react when your Mark’s fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him three blocks away. It isn’t long until you’re swept into Mark’s arms, the hold both protective and possessive as he glares at the other two, his chest heaving with each labored breath he struggles to take.

“No fuckin’ way.” The mohawked variant blinks slowly, his lips pulling into a mix of a grimace and a smirk. “That’s unfair on so many levels.” He turns to the Mark in a cloth mask who seems to share the same sentiment, mumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that this version of him gets the hot babe.

Omni-Man Mark merely scoffs when he floats back, his suit still pristine as though he’d never been thrown at all while he crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the way you tremble in this version of him’s hold. You aren’t the best friend he’d killed mercilessly back in his dimension. Here, you were a woman—his woman. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

A best friend and a wife. Who would’ve thought?

While he’d never seen the other, male, version of you in a romantic light, his heart stirs at the thought of taking this version of you for himself. It’s not like it’ll take much to kill this Mark; he’s already as good as dead anyway—

“Is everything alright here?” Clad in white and silver, yet another version of Mark descends from the sky like some sort of disgraced angel. 

“Ugh, why are you here?” Mohawk Mark rolls his eyes obnoxiously, his gaze only briefly flickering to the new variant.

“Angstrom sent me to see if you all were sticking to the plan, which clearly you aren’t.”

“Aww, the lil’Viltrum baby can’t do anything without a mission? How sad!” He bats his lashes dramatically before sneering. “What are you gonna do next, bark? Who gives a shit about the plan? You’re acting as if you weren’t gonna kill him after anyway!” 

The Mark in the Viltrum uniform chooses not to dignify him with a response.

Unbothered by his counterpart’s nonchalance, the mohawked Mark sets his sights back on you, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome you in with a hug. “Hey, [Name], it’s just me. Just Mark. Your best friend, remember? We used to play CoD and shit when your parents were out.”

Viltrum Mark’s brows furrow at the familiar name, steady gaze finally paying you mind as you try to sink further into the Mark of this dimension’s arms. You’re a lot…softer than he recalls you being, your form far less filled out; almost feminine. But, that couldn’t be right, right? How cruel would it be for this version of him to have the perfect mate whilst he, while grateful for your prior companionship, was stuck with nothing more than a best friend? One that he’d ultimately killed for resisting.

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

The small terrified whimper you let out, the sound almost heavenly as you try to curl into Mark like your life depends on it. Which you suppose it does at this very moment.

A collective groan settles across all the present variations of Mark, all differing levels of arousal. They can practically taste the fear emanating off of you, stalking closer like a pack of deranged wolves.

Disgust pulls at Mark’s lips at the look in their eyes, his arms trembling around you as the last line of defense between you and these monstrous versions of him. “What the hell are you guys on about?” He seethes, only to be met by a suffocating silence.

Viltrum Mark appears in front of you before you and Mark can process his presence, tearing you out of your boyfriend’s arms despite your screaming protests. His grip is firm, but it’s the underlying softness in it that has you trembling with both fear and confusion. One of his hands finds your chin, stroking the contour of your jaw while his thumb gently presses down on your lower lip in a similar fashion that your Mark had done earlier.

“You’re [Name].” His face twists with perplexion as he speaks. “But, you’re so soft.” You feel his other hand fall from your arm, settling on your hip as if to prove a point. He squeezes and prods the fat, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the soft skin underneath, his fingers splaying against your stomach while his nose buries itself in your neck. “You’d be a great mother.”

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

You’re pulled into another set of arms. These ones leaner yet more possessive than the Viltrum Mark’s. But not yours.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you.” Mohawk Mark’s voice rasps mockingly above you, his arm curling around you and dangerously close to your breasts. You know he feels your heart stop, snorting cruelly as he pulls you flush against him. His gloved hand tilts your chin up to him cruelly, relishing in the way tears well in your eyes.

“P-Please…” You weakly claw at his wrist despite knowing how useless it is in comparison to his innate strength.

Holy fuck, he could get used to the sound of that.

Man, why couldn’t you be a girl in his world too? Oh, the things he would do to you. How he would ruin you. He wonders if you’re similar to his [Name], the [Name] who trusted him to do the right thing only to die trying to stop what’s already been done. Do you play the same sport as your male counterpart? Enjoy the same food? Ah, whatever, you’re still his, no matter his relation to you. Best friend or otherwise.

“Get away from her you fucking freak!” Your Mark’s garbled voice reaches your ears, his fist colliding with the side of the mohawked variant’s head, sending him careening into the white-clad Viltrumite. Mark doesn’t even get the chance to look over you before he shoots into the air with you in his hold, tucking your head into his shoulder as he whispers calming words into the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby,” he echoes his prior sentiment, flying as fast as he can with the cloth-mask and Omni-Man wannabe hot on his tail.

A familiar red glove catches Mark’s leg, snapping it easily. Mark screams, his teeth grinding as he pivots his other leg directly into the variant’s face, no doubt breaking his nose before he crashes into the cloth-masked Mark, who yells obscenities as the two of them crash into the city below.

Finally, silence settles between the two of you. Heavy with confusion. Heavy with fear.

“What the hell was that…” You cling to him, trembling like a newborn fawn in his hold.

“I—I don’t know.” He buries his nose in your neck as he lowers into a desolate field miles away from any civilization, breathing in your comforting scent beneath the smell of iron and ash that seem to cling to your skin while he settles against a tree. The field is peaceful; untouched by the destruction that plagues the rest of the world.

“...What about Eve and the others?” You hesitate, palms hovering over his broken leg to do your best to put the limb back together. The bone melds back together grotesquely, it's disgusting snap a sound you think you’ll never get used to.

“Eve slipped away before things got ugly. I’m not too sure about the others…” He lets out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the ground when his skin gets pulled tautly back into place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t let them get to you, not as long as I’m still breathing, alright?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, collapsing into his chest as you try not to think about everything you’ve lost in such a short amount of time. He kisses your forehead gently, leaning back against the tree for only a moment of respite.

“Aww, what a cute sight.” A patronizing voice overhead has both of you snapping your heads to the sound. Clad in yellow and black with a billowing cape behind him, this version of Mark sneers, his gaze looking between you and Mark. His brows raise beneath his mask, lips forming something akin to a sadistic grin. “Well, well, well. You’re looking a bit different here, aren’t you, [Name]?”

Shit.

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site or run my works through ai

[redvexillum]

A/N: So this is smut with Lute, but it is inherently an Adam x Reader story. FoxSinner!Reader makes a second appearance! Also, @peach-flavored-flambe how dare you infect me with the word "boop" and its uses! It somehow made it in the story!

RedVexi Sickness Update #1: Fevers, chills, coughing, lack of sleep, did I hit my peak for my illness? Will tomorrow be better?

SUMMARY: For the hundredth time, you broke up with Adam, this time telling yourself it was the last straw. But as you stormed away, you encountered an angel, Lute, who seemed to have an intimate past relationship with your boyfriend—err, ex-boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow, you both ended up trying to prove who was the better lover for Adam.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, fox sinner!reader, established relationship with Adam, face slapping, one-sided love/interest, Lute hates reader a lot, hate fucking, sex toys, complicated relationship, love triangle (sorta), strap-on, double penetration, overstimulation, degradation kink, reader is emotional and is a bit…ditzy

After the dizzying sounds of laughter, broken glass, and blaring music subsided, your once-cozy home looked like a war zone. Torn red and green streamers hung limp like office workers past clocking out time, and the smell of stale beer clung to the air like a mocking reminder of the chaos. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on the offending culprit sprawled across your floor. 

Adam. 

He lay there in nothing but white briefs, his stout body stretched out amidst a halo of crushed beer cans—a parody of snow angels. His mouth hung open slightly, and a faint snore rumbled from his throat, utterly unbothered by the destruction left in his wake. Rage bubbled up inside you, sharp and hot, as your tail swished behind you with dangerous precision. 

“Get. Up.” The words escaped your clenched jaw like venom, your teeth grinding together as your ears flicked back. When his response was nothing more than a particularly loud snore, you growled, your patience thinner than the ice you were about to shove him onto. 

With a sharp jab of your finger into his side, he jolted awake, snorting loudly. 

“Wha—huh?” Adam blinked blearily, his crimson eyes squinting against the dim kitchen light. His hand instinctively raked through his dishevelled brown hair, and as his gaze focused on you, a slow, infuriating grin spread across his face. 

“Babe,” he slurred, his voice a drunken drawl, “looking good.” 

Your lips curled into a sneer, your eyes flicking down to the tent now prominently pitched in the front of his briefs. Heat rose to your face, though it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with seething irritation. 

“Seriously, Adam?” you barked, your voice rising sharply. His wince only spurred you on. “I told you so many times I didn’t want to have this goddamn party!” 

“Relax, babe,” he groaned, his large frame unfolding as he stood. He swayed slightly, towering over you as he lumbered closer. Then, with all the grace of a drunken toddler, he poked your stomach with the tip of his… erection. 

“Boop,” he said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

You froze. Your brain struggled to process the sheer audacity of it all. The boop, of all things, was what made your eye twitch. Of course, Adam—your overgrown, immature boyfriend—had adopted the most cursed word in the human vocabulary. And now, he was weaponizing it against you. 

Your gaze flicked up to his smug face, then down to the persistent offending appendage. “Adam,” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “Stop. That.” 

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. “C’mon, babe,” he teased, poking you again, his grin widening. “I know what's gonna help you unwind.” 

For a fleeting moment, you considered murder. Then your eyes flicked to the aftermath of last night’s disaster—the vomit stains, the overturned chairs, the shards of glass glittering like cruel little stars—and back to Adam. Maybe he could make it up to you. Maybe a good dicking would at least take the edge off your frustration. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice heavy with resignation. “Get your ass on the bed. Now.” 

Adam’s grin morphed into a triumphant fist-pump as he stumbled off toward the bedroom, his childish glee almost endearing—almost. 

As you stripped off your clothes and crawled onto the bed, Adam asked you to roll onto your stomach. With a grumble, you obliged, expecting things to escalate quickly—but no. The man had the audacity to leave the room. You lay there, face buried in the pillow, equal parts annoyed and confused. Just as you were about to yell, he waltzed back in like nothing had happened, carrying a sandwich, of all things, and climbed back onto the bed. Well, it wasn't the first time he ate while having sex. 

Your body, traitorous as ever, was already eager for what was coming. But when he grabbed the base of your tail, earning himself a startled squeak, and slipped one fat finger into your asshole, the mood took a sharp turn. It wasn’t the act itself that sparked your anger—it was his commentary.

“Boop,” Adam said with zero shame.

Clenching your ass tight around his intrusive digit, you whipped your head around, eyes blazing. “Did you just say boop again?” Your voice dripped with incredulity.

The simmering irritation from him ruining your Christmas plans boiled over. And yet, this? This was the final straw.

You glared at him, catching the unmistakable sight of your precious BLT sandwich in his free hand. He was casually munching on it while simultaneously rubbing the shaft of his cock against your slick folds. 

The crumbs. 

The audacity. 

The absolute disrespect.

“Oh, that is IT!” you screeched, wriggling away from him with a feral determination. Your tail lashed, your ears flattened, and you practically threw your clothes on, rage igniting every cell in your body.

Adam barely looked up, still chewing, as he watched you with wide-eyed confusion. “Wait, what? Babe, what’s wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at the crumpled wrapper in his other hand, your name scrawled across it in unmistakable all-caps. Something within you snapped, the chaotic storm of emotions inside suddenly going deathly calm. Your voice was eerily steady. “We’re done.”

His chewing slowed as the realization hit. “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of your sandwich. Crumbs spilled onto the bed as he gestured vaguely. “Now, that’s not very demure of you.”

A single flick of your ear and a twitch of your tail were all it took for him to clamp his mouth shut. You levelled him with a glare that could have reduced him to ash.

“Fuck you,” you said with venomous finality, flipping him the bird as you stormed out.

Behind you, Adam sputtered, sandwich still in hand. “Wait—hold on—was it the boop?”

The icy air of the outside world hit your face like a slap, but it did little to cool your raging emotions. You marched a block away before stopping abruptly, your heels grinding into the pavement as frustration boiled over. 

Why the hell were you the one to leave? That was your home. Your territory. Yet here you were, storming the streets of Hell like a runaway instead of standing your ground. Pride, too wild and untamable, kept you from turning back. If you went back, you knew what would happen. 

What it always happened. 

You’d get pulled into his orbit again, your resolve folding over like a wet newspaper. 

But not this time. This time, you were going to be strong. You were going to stand by your decision. 

And yet… 

Your ears twitched, straining to catch the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. Your heart lurched every time you glanced over your shoulder, hoping—wanting—that he’d followed you. Each time, you were met with the lack of his presence. The pit of disappointment that formed in your stomach was as crushing as it was infuriating. 

You hated yourself for wanting him to come after you. For needing it. 

The endless cycle of hope and disappointment gnawed at your resolve, each turn of emotions feeding into a bitter spiral of self-loathing. You shoved your hands into your pockets and pressed forward, your footsteps echoing into the streets full of drunk people after celebrating the winter festivities. 

You didn’t notice the shadow until it was too late. 

A hand yanked you into a dark alley, slamming you against the rough brick wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and you struggled to regain it, glaring up at your assailant. 

“What the fu—” 

Your words died in your throat as your gaze locked with piercing dark eyes framed by moonlit silver hair. The presence of the figure before you felt suffocating, oppressive. Your back straightened instinctively, adrenaline coursing through you. 

Why the hell was there an exterminator here? 

Ever since the Princess of Hell’s infamous battle with the angels, exterminations have been cancelled. It was a victory that dominated every news outlet and social media feed for days. This shouldn’t be happening. 

“Apologize to him,” the angel growled, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her fingers dug into your shoulders, her strength bruising. 

“What?” you blinked, your mind scrambling to process the absurdity of the demand. 

“Apologize to Adam.” Her teeth bared like an animal ready to rip into prey. “How dare you show such disrespect to the Commander?” 

“Commander?” Your brow furrowed, the word hanging in the air like a grenade about to detonate. “The fuck are youtalking about?” you screeched, your voice rising in disbelief. 

Your tail tucked between your legs instinctively, though you weren’t scared—at least not entirely. Wary, yes. Confused beyond reason, absolutely. 

“Let me go,” you sneered, baring your own teeth as your ears flattened against your head. 

Her grip tightened. The world felt as though it had tilted, dragging you into a nightmare where none of this made sense. 

Her nails dug into your shoulders like talons, sharp enough to sting but not break skin. “You should be worshipping the very ground he walks on,” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. Her dark eyes burned with unfiltered rage, a mix of contempt and disbelief. “Don’t you realize who you’re even with?” 

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process them. You’d never asked Adam about his past—it didn’t matter to you. He was Adam, your lazy, ridiculous, infuriating boyfriend. But now your mind raced, piecing together fragments of information you’d ignored. 

Was that pathetic excuse of a man the Commander of the fucking angels? 

The thought short-circuited your brain. Your world tilted dangerously, but years of survival instincts kicked in. You compartmentalized, shoving the revelation into a mental box labelled "Deal With Later." Right now, you needed your wits about you. 

“Let go,” you gritted through clenched teeth, twisting your body to break free. Her grip was vice-like, but adrenaline gave you the edge. With a sharp yank, you ripped her hand off your shoulder. “It’s none of your business anyway,” you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly. 

A surge of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as a flush of frustration spread across her perfect, angelic face. 

She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. “I don’t see what’s so special about you,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “I bet you’re a pity fuck. What did you do? Beg him to touch you because no one else would?” 

The taunt was so petty, so juvenile, that it reminded you of Adam’s own infuriating antics. You knew you should walk away, let it roll off you like water. But irritation flared, hot and sharp, fuelling the pettiness surging through your veins. 

You whirled around, planting your hands on your hips and mirroring her stance. “And let me guess,” you shot back, your voice thick with venom, “you begged him to fuck you, and he probably laughed in your face.” You let your gaze drift up and down her figure, daring her to react. “What was it? ‘No thanks, not even in your dreams’?” 

Her low growl sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let her see it. Her black spandex suit, patterned with feather-like designs along the collarbone, left nothing to the imagination. A dark wave of jealousy clawed its way into your thoughts. 

Did Adam fuck her too? 

The bitter thought lodged itself in your mind, feeding your insecurities. You hated how easily jealousy and self-doubt wrapped their fingers around your pride. You knew your flaws—how you hid your vulnerability behind arrogance and defiance. The awareness of your own weakness only deepened the bitterness. 

But in Hell, weakness was a death sentence. So you squared your shoulders, tilted your chin up, and faked confidence as you’d always done. 

“Oh, trust me,” the bitch purred, her smirk widening into a grin that made your blood boil. “You can only dream of how fucking amazing our sex was.” Her words were a dagger, twisting deep. 

You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you repeated the mantra in your head. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. 

But, like always, you did. 

The dingy sex hotel reeked of sweat, desperation, and bad decisions. The neon-red light from the sign outside bled through the thin curtains, bathing the room in an unsettling glow. 

You rubbed your sore cheek, the skin still smarting from where Lute—as she introduced herself—had punched you. The memory flashed in your mind: the sharp crack of her fist meeting your face, your vision blurring for a second before the red-hot rage kicked in. 

Now here you were, sitting on the edge of a creaky bed in a room you’d paid for, wondering how the hell things had escalated this far. 

Lute lounged against the opposite wall, her arms crossed, a victorious smirk plastered across her face. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” she cooed mockingly, her tone laced with condescension. 

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to lunge at her again. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. 

The moment Lute smugly mentioned she’d fucked Adam—your Adam—a tidal wave of possessive fury surged through you, so consuming it left no room for rational thought. Words turned into shouting, shouting turned into cursing, and before long, the two of you were rolling on the ground, nails clawing, legs tangling, and pulling hair like feral animals. Somehow, in the chaos, the argument shifted into a challenge: who was the better fuck? 

And the only way to settle it? To fuck each other. 

Now, standing stripped bare in the cheap hotel room, the gravity of what you’d agreed to hit you like a freight train. 

Holy hell… We’re all such idiots.

The thought barely formed before Lute grabbed the back of your hair, her fingers tangling cruelly in your locks. Without warning, she dragged you into a kiss so heated and rough it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t sweet. It was teeth and dominance, sharp bites against your lips, her smirk pressed against your desperation. 

And you hated yourself for moaning into it. 

The pain from her grip on your hair sent jolts of pleasure down your spine, mixing with the heat pooling low in your belly. You pressed against her without thinking, your breasts flush against hers, nipples rubbing together in electric friction. Her skin was impossibly hot, searing into yours, and when her thigh slipped between your legs, pressing firmly against your dripping core, a strangled cry tore from your throat. 

“Look at you,” Lute sneered, grinding her thigh harder against you. Her voice was low, dripping with condescension. “So fucking wet from just a kiss. You’re pathetic.” 

“F-fuck you,” you managed to spit out, though the words trembled under the weight of your moans. 

Lute shoved you backward onto the bed with effortless strength. Before you could process, something heavy and cold hit your breast—a glittery pink dildo falling unceremoniously onto the sheets. You stared at it in disbelief. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“Start fucking yourself,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. She stood tall, her posture imperious, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and superiority. “I’m not done getting ready, but I want a show.” 

When you didn’t immediately move, her smirk darkened. “What’s wrong? Can’t even make yourself cum without help, you useless little slut?” 

Her words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, and you hated the way your body reacted to her degradation. Your thighs quivered, your wetness betraying you. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the toy with shaky hands. “I’ll show you why Adam chose me again and again,” you shot back, though the trembling in your voice betrayed your arousal. 

The dildo was thick, almost intimidating, but the wetness between your legs made it easy to press against your entrance. Slowly, you pushed it in, relishing the delicious stretch, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to spill out. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, adjusting your hips to take the length deeper. With one hand, you pumped the toy in and out, your slickness making obscene sounds that filled the room. The other hand teased your nipples, pinching and twisting until they ached in the best way. 

Lute stood across the room, donning a strap-on that was almost comically large—angry red with veins that made it look impossibly real. Her toned body gleamed under the dim light, her breasts full and her nipples hard as she watched you writhe on the bed. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her voice a low growl. 

You ignored her, focusing on the pleasure building inside you, pumping the toy faster and faster. The bed creaked beneath you, your body arching as you chased your release. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your voice rising. “I’m gonna—gonna—” 

A sharp, stinging pain snapped you out of your haze. Your clit throbbed in shock as your eyes flew open. 

Lute stood over you now, her strap-on gleaming, her manicured hand raised from where she’d just slapped your sensitive flesh. “Not so fast,” she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. 

Before you could recover, her hand came down again, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. Your back arched involuntarily, a strangled mix of pleasure and pain spilling from your lips. 

“Beg,” she demanded, her voice dark and dripping with authority. Her body towered over yours, her confidence radiant, as if she had already won. 

“Ah!” The cry tore from your throat as your back hit the mattress fully, legs spread wide, the dildo a relentless invader as your hips bucked against it, desperate for more. Your body moved on instinct, shamelessly chasing the aching need pooling in your core. 

“Look at you.” Lute’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction, her sharp smile cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts. Her fingers were precise, cruel, landing another slap against your throbbing clit. The sharp sting reverberated through your body, a wicked cocktail of pain and pleasure that left you gasping. 

“I knew you were a fucking slut,” she hissed, leaning closer as her eyes bore into yours. The insulting words should have made you burn with shame, but instead, they sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Her confidence was suffocating, intoxicating. 

In retaliation—or maybe submission—you bit down on your lip, muffling a throaty moan as your back arched off the bed. The dildo inside you pulsed against your walls, each thrust filling you to your limits. The obscene squelch of your arousal echoed in the room, louder and more frantic as your hips moved faster. You were so close, your body trembling with the promise of release. 

Lute, as if sensing your impending climax, doubled down. Her hand struck your clit again and again, each slap harsher, sharper, driving you to the edge. The sound of flesh meeting flesh melded with your cries, creating a symphony of debauchery. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your scream tore through the air as the dam broke. Heat burst from your core, a gush of liquid spilling out of you and coating both Lute and the mattress beneath you. Your cries morphed into incoherent moans as you kept pumping the dildo, riding the waves of your orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes—more, more, more!” The words spilled from your lips, uncontrollable, desperate. 

“Fuck, you make such a disgusting mess,” Lute spat, though her flushed cheeks and heaving chest betrayed her own arousal. Before you could recover, she grabbed your wrist, ripping your hand away from the dildo. She pressed its base deep into you, forcing the tip to kiss your cervix. 

The sharp intensity of the stretch sent a strangled cry out of you. “Oh, fuck!” Your hands clawed at hers, trying to ease the overwhelming pressure, but she pinned you in place. Her free hand found your nipple, twisting it with cruel precision. 

“Look at you,” she sneered. “You can’t even handle this, and you think you’re worthy of him?” 

“Fuck you,” you gasped, your body betraying you as the pain began to blur into pleasure. 

“I bet this isn’t enough for you, you insatiable whore,” she growled, her tone laced with venom. Without warning, she flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up sharply. 

The familiar position sent a spark of recognition through your fogged mind. This was how Adam liked to take you—how he knew you liked it. A pathetic yowl escaped your lips when Lute grabbed your tail, the tug sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through your trembling body. Your saliva dribbled down your chin as your cheek pressed against the mattress, your body arching into her dominance. 

The dildo inside you felt impossibly large, your walls fluttering around it as anticipation coiled tightly in your belly. You hadn’t taken two cocks in so long, and the idea alone had your pussy clenching around the toy. 

Lifting your head slightly, you glanced over your shoulder. Lute’s flushed face, her eyes dark with lust, zeroed in on you like a predator. Her gaze lingered on your exposed ass, her intent clear. 

Swaying your hips, you smirked. “Oh, trust me,” you purred, your voice dripping with provocation. “Adam—” Her expression faltered slightly at the name, a flicker of insecurity cracking through her mask. 

“Adam loves to fuck my ass,” you continued, dragging the words out slowly, savouring her reaction. You began to move the dildo in and out of your dripping cunt with deliberate slowness, moaning loudly for effect. “He can’t get enough of my pussy and my ass.” You arched your back further, your hips pushing up enticingly. “Isn’t that why he’s constantly fucking me instead of you?” 

The words were a dagger, aimed to wound. And by the way Lute’s lips curled into a snarl, it had struck its mark. 

A sharp slap echoed through the room, the sting rippling across your skin and leaving behind a fiery warmth. The pain dissolved almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the shocking, relentless intrusion of Lute filling your tight ring of your ass. She didn’t ease her way in—she claimed you with a force that left you gasping. The stretch burned deliciously, a stark contrast to the rhythm of her hips as they surged forward with unrelenting purpose. 

You felt overwhelmed and in response you moaned, low and throaty, your body arching into hers. The obscene slickness of your drool coated your lips, dripping onto the sheets as every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you. She filled you completely, both cunt and ass stretched to their limits, her movements precise yet feral, striking every nerve that made you tremble. 

“You really thought you could leave him?” Lute growled, her voice a mix of derision and lust. Her nails bit into your hips as she yanked you back into her thrusts, burying herself even deeper. “That he’d come crawling after you, begging like some love-struck fool?” 

Her words were as sharp as her movements, cutting into the haze that had overtaken your mind. Emotions churned wildly—shame, desire, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm you couldn’t control. Your body, however, had no such conflict. It betrayed you completely, you gripped the dildo in your slick folds and moved in time with her pounding thrusts. 

“Adam!” His name tore from your lips in a raw, guttural scream. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it was instinct, a plea from a place deep within you. Sobs wracked your chest as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your pussy convulsing around the thick toy. The orgasm was devastating, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d ruined you—mind, body, and soul. 

The room fell eerily silent as you lay there, trembling, your breath hitching in uneven gasps. Lute’s hands never faltered. She rolled you onto your side again as if you weighed nothing, her strength unnerving yet exhilarating. She grabbed the dildo from you and moved with a slick, obscene rhythm, each thrust sloppy and wet. You clawed at the sheets, your body pinned beneath hers as she drove you further into submission. 

There was no reprieve. Lute’s lips descended on your swollen clit, her tongue working circles that made your thighs quiver. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, the sensations building to an unbearable crescendo. Tears slipped from your eyes as your body jolted under her expert touch, writhing as waves of pleasure blurred the edges of your consciousness. 

“Ah… ahh…!” Your cries were incoherent now, reduced to desperate, broken sounds. Lute’s stamina was as merciless as her demeanour—she never faltered, her thrusts rhythmic and punishing, her tongue a relentless torment against your most sensitive flesh. 

Time lost meaning. The room dissolved into nothing but the wet, slick sounds of your bodies and the heady scent of sex that filled the air. Your legs trembled as exhaustion tugged at the edges of your awareness, but even as your body began to give out, she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. 

Her stamina rivalled his. No, it mirrored his. And with that realization, dread and anticipation coiled in your stomach. You knew she would push you past every limit, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until you had nothing left to give. Even unconscious, you were certain she’d find a way to make you submit. 

Your body burned with a pleasure so intense it felt sinful—like a divine punishment crafted for a sinner like you. Maybe you deserved it, you thought, the fleeting notion lost in the cocktail mixture of sensations. You were too far gone, too consumed by the overwhelming heat, the slick press of her body against yours, the ceaseless rhythm that stole your breath and fractured your mind. 

And then, finally, sweet oblivion overtook you. The sounds of your body, your cries, your moans faded into the void, leaving you adrift in a dark, silent expanse where nothing else mattered. 

Lute heaved, her chest rising and falling as she stood over your wrecked, sprawled form. The dildo in her hand was soaked, glistening with your juices, and the room reeked of your debauchery. Her eyes flicked to the darkened spots staining the sheets beneath you, evidence of your squirting with every climax she’d wrung from you. She bit the inside of her cheek, bile rising in her throat at the thought of how Adam had always loved that—the mess, the chaos, the rawness of it. 

“Super hot,” he’d called it. 

Her gaze drifted lower, settling on your used pussy. It fluttered weakly, twitching in the aftermath of her relentless assault. She ripped the strap-on harness from her hips, her hands trembling with something she couldn’t name—frustration? Hatred? Envy so raw it felt like it would consume her? 

This was the cunt. The one Adam had fucked endlessly, obsessively, ever since his damnation. Her teeth clenched so hard it hurt. 

Her eyes burned as she looked down at the dildo slick with your juices. Slowly, she pressed the head of it against her entrance, her breathing shallow. She let herself imagine—for one fleeting, painful second—that it was him. That he was here, pressing into her, taking her apart with the same fervour he’d given you. 

The thought sent a violent shudder through her body. Anger swirled with frustration in a maelstrom of emotions that left her shaking. 

Why? 

Why did it have to be you? 

Why couldn't it have been her?

Lute’s nails dug into her palm as she stared down at you. She’d been by Adam’s side for centuries—since the day she’d pledged herself to the Exterminator’s cause. She had fought beside him, bled beside him, held his dying form in her arms during that final battle. If anyone deserved to be next to him, to be his, it was her. Not you. Not some temperamental fox demon whose mood swung as wildly as Hell’s weather. 

Her lip curled, hatred twisting her features as she thought of how effortlessly you’d stolen him. But before she could act on the anger roiling inside her, a sudden knock at the door startled her. 

She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears. That was... unexpected. Glancing at the clock, her brow furrowed. Their time shouldn't be up yet.

The knock came again, louder this time, insistent. Her head whipped toward the door, her breath catching in her throat. Tossing the dildo aside, she scrambled to find her clothes. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was a threat. She was sure of it. A Sinner, perhaps. Maybe even one of your pathetic, desperate allies. 

But as she reached for her Angelic Steel weapon, she froze. 

“Babe?” 

Her blood ran cold. 

The voice was unmistakable. 

“I know you’re in there,” Adam called from behind the door, his tone light but carrying that same commanding edge she remembered all too well. Another knock followed, firmer this time, shaking the door on its hinges. 

Her heart raced, the sound of it pounding in her ears like war drums. She hadn’t seen him—truly seen him—since that battle, since she’d cradled his broken, bleeding body and watched the light leave his eyes. Since she’d learned he had fallen, damned to this place. 

And she had followed him, hadn’t she? Not openly, not brazenly, but from the shadows, drawn to him like a moth to flame. She had watched him, studied him, but never once dared to face him. How could she? He was everything she had been taught to loathe. A Sinner. The Sinner. And yet, here he was, standing on the other side of the door. 

Slowly, her trembling hands reached for the handle. She cracked the door open, just enough to see him. 

Her breath hitched. 

He hadn’t changed. Not really. The soft brown hair that curled at the ends, the sharpness of his goatee, the confident grin that had always set her pulse racing—it was all still there. But his eyes, oh, his eyes were sharper now, darker. They pierced through her like a blade, and she could feel her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. 

“Si—” she started, her voice barely a whisper. 

But Adam cut her off, brushing past her with the ease of a man who had nothing to prove. 

“Damn,” Adam muttered, his eyes softening as he looked down at the fox sinner lying unconscious on the bed. His tone was warm, almost affectionate. “If you wanted a good fuck, you should’ve come to me, sugartits,” he said with a smirk, effortlessly picking you up in a bridal carry, your limp form cradled against his chest. “Ah, shit, I should probably cover you up before you get pissed at me for flashing the entire streets of Hell,” he chuckled softly to himself, the tenderness in his voice as natural as breathing. 

Lute’s blood ran cold. Her eyes burned with a fury that threatened to consume her whole. She watched the scene unfold with a bitter, seething resentment. This was the man she had devoted everything to—her loyalty, her love—and here he was, cradling that bitch like you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he cared for you, the way he held you so gently—it made her want to tear her own heart out. Adam had never looked at her like that. He had never held her like that. She had given him everything, and now he was throwing it all away for a cheap sinner. 

For you 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter something, to make him see her, to make him feel her. The pain twisted in her chest, and a furious, bitter laugh bubbled up from the depths of her throat. 

Adam turned to leave, his attention on the door, but Lute stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Her chest heaved with desperation. She couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. She couldn’t just let him walk away from her without at least trying to make him see. 

“Sir, I—” her voice cracked, her heart pounding in her throat as she reached out to him. 

Adam stopped, looking at her with a flicker of curiosity. He didn’t even seem annoyed. His gaze was more... bemused. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “You’re sort of in my way,” he said lazily, the words like ice in her veins. 

It hurts. The words she had wanted to say to him, the things she had wanted to plead, now stuck in her throat like shards of glass. She had tried for so long to fight it, to hold on to something, but now she saw the truth. She wasn’t the one he wanted. She wasn’t the one he needed. 

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she swallowed down the bitter rage that threatened to spill over. This was the man she had fought beside, bled for, and fallen in love with—and now he was walking away, without even a second glance. She wasn’t even a thought in his mind. 

“How could you?” Lute spat, her voice sharp and full of venom. “How could you live like this? Where’s your honour, your faith, your—” 

He snorted, a cynical laugh escaping his lips. His eyes, red as blood, flickered with something dark. “We’re in Hell now, Lute. What honour? What faith?” he said, his voice flat, resigned. The coldness in his tone stung her, as if he had completely given up on everything they had once stood for. The man she had loved—worshipped—was gone, replaced by this hollow shell. 

Her heart shattered all over again. “Y-you’ve changed,” she managed to choke out, her voice raw. It wasn’t just the words, it was the realization that he had completely slipped away from her, that everything she had once thought was solid and real was reduced to less than dust. 

Gone. 

"Uh, duh," he muttered, his tone so casually dismissive it felt like a slap. His eyes didn’t even linger on her as he adjusted the fox sinner in his arms. There was a tenderness there that Lute could never seem to get from him. He didn’t look at her the way he looked at you. "I kind of have horns now, like actual horns, and I’m in Hell,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Lute stood there, the anger swirling inside her like a storm. “We could change that,” she said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. She had said this to herself a thousand times before, rehearsed it in her mind like a mantra. “We could go to the Seraphim and beg them to reconsider. We can—” 

“Lute,” Adam’s voice was soft, but it was enough to silence her. That soft command, the one that had always made her want to kneel before him, now closed her mouth with a force that felt like a blow. She looked up at him, seeing that tired, resigned expression on his face—the man who had once been so full of life was now defeated, broken. “I can’t go back up there anymore,” he said simply, like it was a fact she should have already known. “The big man upstairs saw fit to bring me down here, so you and I both know it’s impossible.” 

“No,” Lute whispered, her voice trembling as she took a step closer to him. She had to try. She had to make him see. She reached out, desperate, her fingers brushing against his arm. “It’s not impossible. It’s not impossible.” 

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “One of the residents from that hotel—the snake sinner—he… he made it into Heaven, sir.” 

The words hung between them like a suffocating fog. Silence stretched out, heavy and unbearable. Lute’s heart raced, hope flickering in her chest even as the truth sunk in. She knew—deep down—that Adam had already made his choice. And it wasn’t her. 

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable.

Adam’s chuckle started low, almost like a whisper, a dark, bitter sound that sent a chill crawling up Lute’s spine. It grew, slowly, until it broke free, rippling through the room in a full, boisterous laugh that seemed to mock everything they had once fought for. His shoulders trembled with the force of it, a laugh full of cynicism, full of sorrow, full of something Lute could never name but felt in the very marrow of her bones. And then, as quickly as it had come, the laughter faded, leaving only the heavy silence of a man who had long given up on anything pure, anything worth fighting for. 

Adam walked past her without a glance, his presence like a storm she couldn’t escape. He paused just before the threshold of the door, casting one last glance at her without ever really looking at her. She felt it—a hollow emptiness, as if he had already made his choice and it didn’t include her. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured softly, as though to himself. But the words cut through her like a knife. “Maybe my sons didn’t have to die after all.” 

Lute’s heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice. She was desperate to stop him, to make him understand, but the words caught in her throat. He was already walking away, retreating down the hallway like a man who had finally lost his soul. She scrambled toward the door, calling his name over and over, her voice frantic, raw with desperation. “Adam!” She could feel the tears beginning to burn at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. “Adam, please!” 

But he didn’t turn back. 

Not once. 

Not ever. 

He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he walked away, each step taking him further from her, further from everything she had ever believed in. The very man she had respected, the very man she had loved with everything she had, was leaving her behind in a trail of dust and broken dreams. He was walking away from everything they had built together. From everything they had fought for. 

And it hurt. 

It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. More than the battles they had fought. More than the pain of losing her faith. More than any wound ever inflicted upon her by another. 

He turned his back away from salvation. 

He turned his back away from faith. 

He turned his back away from her. 

And in the silence that followed, all Lute could do was stand there, lost in the shadows of a love that would never be returned. 

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[noxiatoxia]

Hi! Are there any translation quirks regarding Nagito’s illnesses in his final FTE? Are there any references to it outside of his FTE?

Hi! Thank you for the ask! And sorry about the wait.

I assume by quirk you mean that if there's any extra info, or if something was translated differently/weirdly.

Regarding his illness in the final FTE, it is the same. Malignant lymphoma stage 3 with concurrent frontotemporal dementia. 6 months to 1 year life expectancy.

As for direct mentions of the illness outside of the FTE, I don't think so. The closest we get, I think, is this official (but non canon) story between him and Nidai during island mode.

I sadly don't have the Japanese version of the book on hand, and it's far more difficult to find manga online in the original language, so we'll have to settle for this and hope the translation is accurate.

Anyways, he outright says it was more from luck than illness, but I don't think that factors out illness. Especially if he was in the hospital almost daily.

If you just mean stuff regarding evidence for his illness, there's a few. Sorta. It's less outright and more like...it can be related, maybe.

Here's an entry from the SDR2 artbook:

Fair-skin. His skin is so pale that it's probably abnormal*. Don't say stuff like "Toast is a good choice for breakfast", he really should eat some white rice too.

*The word "abnormal" here is 病的, which means "sick of body and/or mind". Can be used to describe somebody who has a quality that is ill/abnormal/strange. Such as having an illness, or acting in a way that is excessive to a degree of abnormality. Obviously here it's being used to say he's so pale, he looks ill.

(By the way, if you can speak Japanese, the SDR2 artbook is a lot of fun. We get many great details such as: Komaeda's favorite food is bread/toast, his fashion sense is "edgy" and "avant-garde", his hood is likely custom-made to be a hardhat (this would explain why it doesn't lay flat in his sprites) and he obsessively cleans his bathroom after using it each time.)

Otherwise, on the topic of his FTD, I had a chat with @windcarvedlyre about some interesting tics in Komaeda's speech. I'll reiterate them here in hopefully a more concise manner.

Specifically, one could perhaps argue these to maybe be because of his FTD. For one, he is breathier and generally talks slower than Naegi. I bring this up as they both have the same voice actress, so it's definitely a deliberate choice Ogata made.

He also trails off a lot in speech. However, I have a hard time quantifying this because many characters not just in Danganronpa but Japanese media in general trail off constantly. I can say I think Komaeda is up there as one of the people who does it more often in SDR2, though.

And I think I've talked about this before but he uses a lot of filler words. I actually want to go into detail about this more. I don't know if I have before.

So, in Japanese...a lot of English learners are taught "uh" and "um" words are えーと etto, あの ano, その sono, ええ eeh, and so forth. This is true, for sure. But they aren't the only filler words. I think they're the most well known because JP to ENG dictionaries will readily tell you they mean "um" "err" etc. But others aren't really touched on in ENG dictionaries.

Specifically in Komaeda's case, he has a tendency to use "excessive" ね and さ particles. These particles are normal in Japanese speech, and reflect specific feelings and emphasis. But like any word, you can use them in a manner that functions more like a filler word.

However, context is important, as always.

I kind of see it like this: the way Komaeda uses ね and さ specifically reminds me of both Saionji and Koizumi's speech patterns combined.

Saionji uses ね a lot, probably as much as or more than Komaeda. In her case though, I wouldn't attribute it as a "filler word". To me, it reads more as a deliberate act to be cutesy/playful/youthful, and makes sense with her character.

Koizumi uses さ a lot very similarly like Komaeda. Strangely enough, the official English translation actually does go out of its way to occasionally translate this particle usage as "like" by her (e.g the line "this is like, really important!"), but not when Komaeda uses it.

Anyways, since these are merely being used as filler words, any sort of filler word fits. "Like" "um" "anyways" "so", etc.

You can make of these as you wish.

[b-o-e]

late night confessions Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: confessions!!! the L word!!! AHHH!!! a bit of julie slander ahbha! reposted cause tags weren’t and still aren’t working, on the one I was most excited for :’)

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #5 :)

The phone ringing late at night allows opportunity to come knocking.

“Hello?”

Who was it calling him at this time of night? Isn’t everyone usually asleep by now? Was something wrong?

“Hi,”

Your voice emitted softly through Wally’s phone.

… Oh?

“... Are you alright?” Wally quizzed, holding his handset between his shoulder and ear. He picked up the base of it, twisting his torso to get a glimpse at the clock. “It’s late,” he mumbled, grasping the phone back in his hand.

“I’m sorry,”

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” he soothed your worries. You went quiet, but Wally gave you the time. He didn’t mind waiting for you. A few moments later, you spoke again. 

“... I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted.

“Ha ha, I think I know how that feels,” Wally jested, earning a giggle from you. The corners of his lips subconsciously tugged upwards a little more at the pleasant sound.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be one to speak, huh? That was insensitive,” you chuckled, apologizing.

“I don’t mind, I’m quite used to it.” He reassured, “What keeps you up though, neighbour?”

Silence fell, until there was a bit of shuffling from your side of the line.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you sighed, seeming distressed. “I just… maybe my brain is being too loud, tonight.”

“Is there something on your mind you’d like to speak about?” Wally took a seat on his arm chair, left leg crossing over top of the right. The phone base rested on his knee, now, his free hand toying with the line.

“I…” your voice trailed off, “I’m not sure, honestly,” you grumbled. “I think…”

“I think I just wanted to hear your voice,” 

Wally gaped, eyes widening. 

His voice? 

He was flattered to hear that. Especially coming from you.

“Wally?” 

You chuckled softly, “sorry, that was probably a strange thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he spoke quickly. “I’m honoured to hear you say that, neighbour,”

“Okay,” you murmured. 

It went quiet again. Wally picked at a loose thread on the arm of the chair, trying to figure out what to say next.

“Would you mind…”

He paused his movements. Seems you beat him to it. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence.

“Would you mind, just… talking?” You requested shyly. 

His smile grew a little wider. You’d called him, just to hear his voice? His belly twisted with glee.

“Hmm…” 

Wally thought for a minute, wracking his brain for anything interesting. “Would you like me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Anything,”

“Anything…” Wally repeated, humming. His thoughts drifted back to what Eddie and Frank had told him the other day…

“Simply and utterly, I’ve run out of ways for you to drop hints,” Frank admitted, rubbing his temples. 

“Me too, if I’m being honest,” Eddie chuckled, “I think you’re just at the point where you need to say it, in the way that is the most natural and the most… you,”

“‘The most me’?” Wally reiterated, “how so?”

“Hmm… give them a call, perhaps?” Frank pitched, “That’s very you,”

“Yeah, it’s like how my staple is letters, yours is sorta calls,” Eddie agreed.

“No interruptions this time, too, that’s a guarantee” Frank uttered with a huff, reflecting back on their last plan. Darn Julie…

“Give them a call…” Wally hummed in thought, twiddling his thumbs. “I suppose that could work,”

“But,” Frank raised a finger, “you cannot simply call them and say it out flat. Timing is important!”

“Oh. How will I know when the right time is?”

Frank faltered. “Huh. How do you know when the right time is?” He turned to Eddie.

“Err… I don’t know? I mean, you just feel it, I guess,” he shrugged, hands raised defensively. “That's all I can think of. It just came to me, personally. I just… knew,”

Wally pursed his lips in thought.

Was this that time?

Nerves tangled inside of him like the phone cord around his fingers. 

It felt like it…

He sucked in a deep breath, slowly releasing to calm himself down.

“Can I… confess, something to you, neighbour?”

“Of course you can, Wally. I’m always here if you need me,” 

“... Do you promise?” He murmured softly.

“Cross my heart, always and forever…” you recalled words he’d once said to you. He found his smile twitching upwards a little more, cheeks warming.

“Well,” Wally stood up out his chair, slowly walking to the window. “I have… a secret. One that I’ve been keeping from you, that’s about you. One that I've found to cause me some distress,” he admitted.

“I hope I haven’t done anything wrong,” you fret, your concern clear in your voice.

“No, no, you’ve done nothing wrong at all,” Wally clarified, smiling to himself. Of course that’s where your head went.

“Thank goodness, I was terrified,” you chuckled with relief.

Wally hesitated. How was he meant to do this?

“Sorry, neighbour,” he apologized, realizing he had not said anything for a while. “I’m struggling to find the right words to say it to you,” he sighed.

“Take your time, Wally.” you comforted, “There’s no rush. I’ll be ready when you are,” 

Wally sucked in another deep breath. This was why, he realized, why he felt the way he did about you. Your consideration, your empathy, your patience… everything.

Slowly, he exhaled, letting his eyes fall shut as his body relaxed.

“Your eyes…” He murmured. By instinct, the image of you popped up in his head.

“They rob the words off of my tongue,” 

He heard the hitch of your breath.

“My heart,” He continued, “it sings with euphoria every second you are near,” he pushed out a light, shaky chuckle. “Ha ha… we may as well call it yours, with how full of you it is,”

His eyes drifted to the wall, examining one of his favourite art pieces in his possession. 

“It’s no secret how I enjoy indulging in art quite frequently, and yet, you manage to be the most extravagant masterpiece I’ve come across,” he murmured, voice holding nothing but sincerity, among something else.

“You’re unfathomably endearing. I crave more of you every time we part… that night we spent time together under the stars?”  He stared out the window, into the night, reminiscing back a few weeks to a time he had nearly confessed, only for it to have been ruined by Julie interrupting them. 

“There were so many things I wanted to say to you then. I wanted to tell you that if you asked me to, I’d figure out a way to give you the moon. That, despite the sky full of them above us, you shine brighter than any star up there in my eyes,” 

“And here I am, after all this time, still dancing around the point that I’m trying to get across, ha ha,” Wally’s eyes wandered to his desk, gazing among the disregarded letters laid upon it. Spit it out already, he thought. He’d taken long enough already.

“The truth is, my darling,” he murmured, soft and sweet, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m in lo–”

Click!

His heart skipped a beat, eyes shooting back open.

…

The line went dead.

…

“Oh.”

His heart plunged into his stomach. His legs refused to move.

His arm slowly dropped to his side, fingers still tangled in the coiled cord.

… 

He’d been rejected, hadn’t he?

…

What now?

Well, he hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

When he had, it wasn’t with an ending like this.

What did he miss?

Despite Eddie and Frank’s assurance that you were returning signs of attraction towards him, he always had a twinge of insecurity in his mind. Maybe he should’ve paid more mind to it.

Had he been too forward? Moved too fast?

It hurt. 

His chest felt tight. His free hand raised, clutching onto the front of his shirt.

It hurt badly.

His body was tingly, and his eyes were beginning to sting. He brushed his fingers against his cheek, meeting with the wetness on them.

“Oh...” He repeated, voice breaking as he slid his back down the wall as his legs gave, sinking to the ground. 

So you hadn't felt the same, after all.

AVHAGHGSHA hi :)

I hope you enjoyed! expect the unexpected! there is still more to come for this though, please don't hate me too much abahaha! if you haven't read the other fics but are interested, here they are, in their recommended order!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

thank you for reading! likes and reblogs are very appreciated (especially cause my tags decided not to work today gsdfhdd) and are my main source of dopamine abhsabba B) UNTIL NEXT TIME!!!

Posted Tuesday, May 2, 2023, at 10:46 AM

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

I read this amazing idea and this sorta wrote itself. I hope it's everything you were hoping for @piratefishmama

"ugh. fuck," Steve groaned into his pillow. He'd never felt worse.

What the hell happened last night?

It was dark, but there was daylight trying to peek through the curtains, so it must be morning.

Wait. Curtains?

Steve didn't own curtains, and neither did Robin.

Steve tried to focus his alcohol-soaked brain on his surroundings; he was in a hotel room, that much was obvious, and there was a napkin sitting under last night's wine glass on the bedside table, but as he reached over to rescue it, Steve caught a glimpse of a ring on his finger. Weird. Steve didn't often wear jewellery, rarely ever wore rings but... ah! Vegas!

Of course! Their post-firing Vegas trip. Steve turned his head on the pillow and automatically regretted it.

"ugh. robin," Steve murmured, "Robin," he tried a bit louder. She was still ignoring him, curled up in all the blankets, sleeping peacefully when Steve was suffering. Such a blanket hog, Steve thought churlishly. "ROBIN! Ow, fuck!" Steve hid his face back in his pillow, shouting was not the way to go.

"stop yelling," the body in the blankets grouched. Because holy fuck that most definitely was not Robin! "Who the fuck is Robin?" the guy groaned, finally deigning to stick his head out of the covers.

Steve lifted his head and blinked owlishly. That was a face he most definitely did not know. Jesus Christ! Steve launched himself upright, only just realising that he was fucking starkers in bed with a complete stranger. "Who the fuck are you?"

The guy had the nerve to smirk as Steve tried and failed to cover his modesty, but at least had the decency to pretend to be removing the sleep from his eyes in order to give him a modicum of privacy.

"Eddie," he introduced with a half-wave, that stupid grin still gracing his lovely features, "wha' 'bout you, Big Boy?" Eddie asked, cheekily waggling his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve could feel the blush burning his cheeks, he didn’t have control of enough of his faculties to deal with this, going home and pretending this never happened seemed like a great idea right about now. Steve slid himself to the edge of the bed, placing his head delicately in his hands, gearing himself up to get moving, preferably without seeing the contents of his stomach. “Steve,” he muttered.

He could hear movement from the other side of the bed, the sheets moving sounding like Eddie was rolling a dumper truck through the room, followed by a blissful silence that was only broken by a quiet "err, Steve?"

"yeah?" he whispered, not that it really did anything to ease the throbbing in his skull.

Eddie moved again and when Steve looked over, Eddie had leaned across the bed onto the pillow Steve had vacated, trying to get a better look at his hunched form, worrying his lip. Odd, he doesn't seem the type. "You aren't- are you? Wearing a ring?"

Huh? Steve's eyebrows scrunched together, he's not exactly used to waking up in bed with a stranger, but minor lifestyle choices aren't one of Steve's main concerns right now. "Yeah. Why? Men can't wear jewellery?" Steve sniped.

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard he was in danger of losing them, lifting both hands to show Steve the many rings he wore on his fingers. "No. Don't be dense!" Eddie reproached, waited a moment and sighed deeply at Steve's visible confusion, "Look at the finger it's on."

Shifting his left hand in front of his face, Steve glared at the plain gold band glinting up at him from his ring finger. It took a second but when the realisation finally dawned it knocked all the breath out of him, "oh. shit."

Steve looked over at Eddie wide-eyed to find him nodding in agreement with the sentiment. "Yeah. Oh. Shit." Eddie echoed.

This just didn't make sense! It'd been a long time since Steve had consumed so much alcohol, he probably hadn't been that drunk since high school, yet somehow someone thought he was in a fit state to enter into a legal contract! "I don't even- they can't've let us? We were drunk!"

Eddie just shrugs, doesn't look even nearly upset enough for Steve's liking. Steve glares at him trying to convey how insane this situation is, Eddie just gives him a look that says "it is what it is". Steve continued glaring, an internal monologue of this is insane, why aren't you freaking out? I'm freaking out! We're strangers and now we're married and oh god we're gonna have to get divorced! I'm gonna be divorced! I don't wanna be divorced! which clearly just frustrates him because Eddie just throws his hands in the air and shouts, "We're in Vegas!"

And suddenly all the fight sucks out of Steve, he slumps back over covering his face with his hands, feeling the slide of metal against his cheek and mutters "fuck. we're in vegas."

But he didn't come here alone! Robin! His best friend and platonic soul mate. And oh how Steve adores her because she's smart, she'll know what to do! "I need to find Robin!" Steve decides, jumping up off the bed, and immediately standing perfectly still so the room stops spinning. I just need to get dressed and find Robin, she'll know how to fix this!

Eddie still hasn't moved from his spot, lounging elegantly across the pillows, the sheet draped gracefully over him like some kind of artist's model. He raises a judgemental eyebrow at Steve, "Robin?"

Unhooking his jeans from the lampshade, Steve grins at Eddie, he's not the first person to assume they're an item. "My best friend," Steve clarifies, but Eddie doesn't look convinced, if anything he looks even more pissed off, his face doing that complicated, pissed off, 'I'm assuming I'm being lied to', twist snarl.

Steve looks, really looks, at Eddie. Steve doesn't know much about him, other than the fact that he's incredibly pretty because really eyes that big and beautiful should only be allowed on magazine covers! He's completely covered in tattoos, which is so hot, not to mention those rings! And he's cheeky as fuck and absolutely unafraid to stand up for himself, which is a first for Steve. People who don't know him usually find him a little intimidating, which is insane, but Robin assures him it's a them thing, not a him thing. And although that's barely anything to know about a person, Steve'd already dearly love to know who'd dare to hurt him, he'd just like to chat, honest. "She's a lesbian," he adds, just to really drive his point home.

It seems to surprise Eddie, his eyebrows shoot up before he grins back at Steve, all teeth and sparkling eyes, trying to hide his face in his mane! Because that's really the only way to describe the majesty of his hair. And oh he's blushing, that's adorable. Eddie clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter, "oh. Yeah. I should probably find Chris," he agrees like he's saying what he's thinking out loud, quickly clarifying, "she also likes women."

They're smiling gently at one another when the phone starts to ring, Steve striding back to the bedside to answer it, hearing Robin shout "Steveeeeee!!"

That sets the ringing off in Steve's ears again, ow! "Robin, shh!" Steve chastises.

Robin's uninhibited by Steve's grouchiness, "I just wanted to say... Congratulations!" she singsongs.

"You know about that?!" Steve's utterly bewildered, surely she wouldn't...

"We were there!" she shouts excitably, as though she'd personally been invited to Area 51, instead of witnessing something as stupid as Steve getting married, while too drunk to even remember the name of his husband.

husband! Steve thinks pathetically.

"we?" he asks meekly, hoping beyond hope he hadn't done something ridiculous like invite his mother or his ex.

"Me and Chris!" Robin shouts, in the background he hears another voice woo-hoo and then say something incomprehensible that makes Robin giggle.

Steve sighs, rolls his eyes because of course! And purposefully catching his eye, smiles exasperatedly at Eddie, "they're together," he informs him.

Eddie snorts a laugh and shrugs, "makes sense," he murmurs as though this is all completely normal behaviour. Maybe it is for them, Steve doesn't bloody know.

Turning back to his phone conversation, Steve asks, "Why'd you let me do that, Rob?" It comes out as whiny and pathetic as he feels, forcefully rubbing his forehead to try to ease the tension building there.

Robin barks a laugh, and she's right it is funny, no one's ever been able to stop Steve from doing anything he set his mind to. Doesn't mean he doesn't want someone else to blame for the fact that he doesn't remember his own wedding and that he's going to be divorced before he's thirty!

"You're in LOVE, Stevie! Who am I to stand in the way of love?"

Robin always manages to explain the most bizarre things as though they're completely ordinary, making them sound almost reasonable. It baffles Steve every damn time. Like she just said "You were sick Steve, so I took you to the doctor" instead of "You're in love with someone you met yesterday, so the obvious solution was a drunken wedding"!

Steve sighed, trying not to be annoyed with her, "Bobbie, I met Eddie less than 24 hours ago! What am I, a fucking Disney Princess?" the vitriol soaking his words would've upset most people, but Robin never flinched, even when he was being the world's biggest dick.

He could practically hear her eye roll through the phone, "No Dingus, you're not a Princess!" she sounded almost sympathetic for a second, but she couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter, "You're a King!" she proclaimed, cackling so hard she snorted.

She hadn't let up about "King Steve" since she’d found his yearbook, signed by all his dickhead "friends". She thought high school cliques were ridiculous, thought prom was even worse, and the idea that Steve had been so popular he'd been elected as an imaginary sovereign as part of their fabricated hierarchy had her rolling around the floor laughing for a solid ten minutes.

"Jesus Christ!" Steve muttered pinching the bridge of his nose, nothing was ever as funny as she thought it was when she was drunk, especially not when she was funny-drunk and he wasn't nearly drunk enough.

Robin stopped laughing abruptly and gasped as though she'd forgotten something. "Steve. Stevie. Evievievie! Guess what, I haven't been to bed yet!" she declared proudly. Steve had no idea what time it was, but as far as he knew the last time she'd slept had been on the plane, and that hadn't exactly been for very long.

"Maybe it's time for bed then?" Steve reasoned, trying to hold on to the last of his patience.

"No! Nooo, I'm with a girl," she whispered conspiratorially. oh jesus! Like he didn't know that!

He was far too sober for this Robin, it was fine when she'd do it in a club, wander over and be all "Steve, I've been dancing with a girl!" mainly because he was drunk enough to join in with her level of wonderment (even though he'd just watched her do it). Right now though, with the weight of his life choices on his shoulders, trying to wrangle his best friend was driving him slightly mad.

"I know," he whispered back. He could hear the pings and dings of the casino in the background, but other than her gentle breathing, Robin had gone suddenly eerily quiet.

He was just about to ask if she'd nodded off upright (it wouldn't be the first time) when Robin and Chris whined loudly, "We're bored, Steve!" jesus fuck! He had to move the phone away from his ear, so his skull didn't crack open. The fact that they said it simultaneously being equal parts creepy and adorable.

It was then that Eddie's stomach rumbled noisily, he'd been quiet and still the whole time Steve was on the phone, not even looking in his direction apart from when Steve spoke directly to him. That was until Steve's stomach grumbled in agreement, Eddie glancing up at Steve through his lashes, amusement dancing in his eyes and god when he smiled like that!

When was the last time any of them ate? Robin hadn't shut up about Vegas' newest waffle place (that had basically inspired the whole trip) since she'd heard about it from Gina in accounting. Maybe some food would do them all some good.

"What about some breakfast?" Steve suggested, he still had his eyes locked with Eddie's and found he wasn't just talking to Robin. Eddie nodded coyly, getting off the bed to gather his clothes from wherever they'd been flung.

"Oooh!! That's a great idea! You're so smart, Steve! I love you!" Robin squealed in his ear and Steve yanked his eyes away from Eddie as he sauntered naked around the room, staring purposefully at the napkin on the bedside, absentmindedly playing with the ring on his finger.

"I love you, too. You going for waffles?"

Steve liked to check in, it wasn't that he thought Robin was incapable of taking care of herself. He just worried. The love he felt for his found family had a depth he'd never thought himself capable of, and Steve didn't even know who he'd be without Robin by his side.

But Robin always knew him better than he knew himself, could practically taste the pensive thoughts through the line, "We're going for waffles, Dingus! Don't forget your husband!" she yelled and hung up.

"jesus fucking christ!" he muttered to himself, putting the phone down.

A husband! Steve didn't even have a job, let alone a career, but he somehow now had a husband. And the thing was, Steve couldn't even say he hated the idea. He didn't particularly like the idea of marrying someone he couldn't remember knowing, but he knew he'd always been one to fall too hard, too fast. His fuckbuddies were different, he could separate his emotions from sex under that context but the moment an actual relationship was mentioned suddenly Steve was all-in.

Maybe Eddie was an all-in kinda guy too?

Eddie had seemed flustered at first but he relaxed into it pretty quickly. It was intriguing to meet someone so laidback and spontaneous. Steve and Robin were always pretty happy-go-lucky, jumping from job to job without giving it much thought. But out of everyone they knew, they seemed to be the outliers, it was nice to meet such a free spirit.

Not that Steve had always been this way, of course, it was all Robin's good influence. From as small as he could remember his parents had brought him up to care more about what everyone else thought, than about his own thoughts, wants and opinions and honestly, it had him wound tighter than a springboard for the first twenty years of his life.

It was Robin who'd taught him that it was okay to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, that what he wanted mattered. It took a while but she got him to get to know himself, the real him, not the guy his parents wanted him to be. Steve kinda hoped he’d be able to get to know Eddie, like really get to know him, beyond just breakfast with their respective best friends.

Speaking of, Steve looked around to find Eddie had left the bathroom door wide open, a clear invitation to join him. Steve faltered for a second because they should probably talk first but honestly, it'd been a long time since Steve had felt as good as he did when Eddie smiled at him and he was kind of sick of denying himself things that felt good.

Fuck it!

As he shuffled towards the bathroom, Steve rescued the rest of his clothes from the floor, his shirt was still tucked inside his jacket, dropped carelessly just inside the room door. A vision flashed in Steve's mind, he and Eddie in the lift, he was shirtless and rutting against Eddie as they frantically made out, watching in the mirror behind him as Eddie licked and nibbled down his neck.

Holy shit! Steve had only ever that horny for someone in public in the relative privacy of a club bathroom stall. Anyone could've joined them in that elevator, hell there might've been someone in there with them, he didn't think there was but he couldn't remember. They were lucky they hadn't been arrested! Anywhere else and they might've been, but luckily Vegas was well known as the City of Sin. Hopefully, the hotel security were just used to it.

There was steam pouring from the bathroom by the time he'd pulled himself from his musings, the mirror above the sink showing nothing but a blurry outline of himself, not that he needed it to know he looked rough. The shower door, like the bathroom one, had purposefully been left wide open, steam billowing out along with Eddie's voice.

Because Eddie was singing, loud and angelic, over the sounds of the shower. It wasn't a song Steve recognised, something about the sun, the moon and a seal, Eddie could've been making it up for all he knew. Not that Steve cared, it was sublime. Pulling him in like a siren song, Steve couldn't help himself, he just kept inching closer.

And as heavenly as Eddie’s voice was, which was truly one of the most exquisite voices Steve had ever heard. It was nothing in comparison to the vision Steve was greeted with as he finally reached the shower. Eddie had his head tipped back, rinsing Steve's expensive shampoo out of his hair, the length of his neck alone had Steve salivating. There was a little tattoo poking out from under his earlobe that was practically begging to be investigated. And a single freckle sitting just to the left of his sternum that he felt the overwhelming urge to lick.

Steve didn't get more than a cursory glance at the rest of him because it was then that Eddie straightened up as though he'd sensed Steve's presence. As he wiped the excess water from his face with his hands, Steve noticed that Eddie had removed all of his rings except the shiny gold band that joined them, almost like he hadn't wanted to take it off.

Another vision came to him, of him sliding that very ring onto Eddie's finger, of him taking Eddie's hand and kissing the still cold metal, glancing up at a grinning, misty-eyed Eddie through his lashes, an overwhelming surge of joy exploding through his chest.

It made Steve giddy and he was suddenly unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face, Eddie beamed back, warm and inviting, little droplets of water catching in his eyelashes from the pressure of the spray hitting his skin as he'd watched Steve remember.

The breath was knocked out of him when he immediately felt the overwhelming need to touch Eddie, to be in his space, to kiss him so thoroughly that neither of them knew where one of them began and the other one ended.

And Eddie must be some kind of mind reader because a truly mischievous look overtook his features as he reached out his ringed hand to Steve's to yank him under the torrent and into his arms, giggling cheekily when he pushed Steve back against the freezing cold shower wall, happily swallowing Steve's shocked gasp.

Part 2

[wisteria-lodge]

bird primary (badger system) + slightly burnt lion secondary (invisible badger model) (snake model)

Hi! I figured I'd just answer some of the prompts you had listed and see what happens! I do have an idea of what I am, but I really just wanted to try and describe myself without my "mask" as much as possible.

Oooh, does this mean we're going to get a lot of models?

I can be very polite and can err on the side of being a doormat to keep the people around me happy

Invisible Badger? Or if this is your mask... Invisible Badger model?

and hide my more "intense" character traits,

"Intense" is very often a Lion word (either primary or secondary.)

and developed a habit of lying to try and hide my neurodivergent qualities, like being forgetful and not completing things on time, but I'm unsure if those things are actually me, since both of those qualities can feel like a prison in the way of actually getting to know me, one that I force on myself out of habit and a feeling of necessity.

I don't diagnose over the internet, that's impossible and unethical, but it does sound like ADHD. Lying to cover up the fact that you forgot something, very normal ADHD thing, and not getting things in on time... ADHD is certainly one of the places that can come from. I would agree that these things don't say anything about your personality, they're disabilities you eventually build coping strategies/works around for.

and I will lie to get an extension on something I forgot to do (and can be quite clever in my lies,) and I just wanted to put those two qualities out there, since you probably won't hear much about them going forward.

In terms of this system... yeah, that "habit of lying" definitely sounds like a Snake secondary model you built as a coping mechanism. You love it, and it's useful, but it's something you did have to learn.

I love being helpful

This could be coming from a few places, but on the surface the energy is either very Badger secondary - or Idealist primary.

Anyway, sorry, it's long, but this is also a form of therapy, in a weird way.

When you really get down to it, basically every personality system is.

As a child, I was always described as "bossy" and a "know-it-all" by those that didn't like me, and "intelligent" and "empathetic" by those who did. I do think they're all accurate, though, and have been working on "reclaiming" the bossy description. I identify as a woman, so that can be tough to deal with.

You sound like Hermione. I definitely think you've got Lion somewhere - could definitely be secondary, or possibly primary. Young Idealists (Lion and Bird) often come across as 'bossy' and 'know-it-all.' Intelligent could be anything, and so could empathetic... although I'm already starting to see some Badger Secondary language coming in, and "empathetic" definitely fits with that.

Lol. Some examples of each:

Love examples.

For Bossy:  I was well-known as a kid for talking "at" people rather than with. My very best friend from preschool (and through to fourth grade, when her family moved) was a girl that had moved there from Mexico and didn't speak a lick of English, at first. My two reasons for befriending her when everyone else was avoiding her was 1) I knew she needed a friend, so I would be that friend.

Very cute. Although this impulse seems to be coming from your primary, which is interesting. ("It is RIGHT for me to be her friend.) Could be a Badger primary. Could also be Idealist.

2) (remember, I was FOUR) since she didn't speak any English, I could just talk, and talk, and talk and she would just listen. Lolol! As she became fluent in English, we discovered we had EVERYTHING in common, and I learned to let other people speak. (Sorta.)

The tendency to steamroll over people... can be a Lion secondary thing. An Exploded Idealist primary thing. An Authoritarian Badger thing? Just, it can come from a lot of places, because it can also be a neurodivergent thing, especially if you're concerned about memory stuff. Then talking over people can be related to working memory - you interrupt is because the worry that if you don't, the thought will just fall out of your head completely.

For the "know-it-all" aspect: I've been a dancer since I was a kid, and I skipped a "grade" in my dance classes early. Usually, it would go predance, kinderdance, and then Ballet 1, which would be your first "real" year of ballet instruction. I did predance and was immediately put in Ballet 1 with the older kids the next year. Yes, it was partially because I was very talented, but the most likely reason was that, when all the other kids during our classes and performances were goofing around or waving at their parents, I would become extremely huffy and try to remind them we were "serious performers" and would wind up pushing the other kids around to what their next position was and generally try to direct them in what came next.

That chip that you've got to take it seriously, you've got to follow the rules... that's the authoritarian etiquette thing you do see from Badger Primaries for me. Even the sweetest Badger primaries, your Snow Whites, gets strict and bossy when there's a job to do and people are messing around. It can also be very Black-and-White Bird - I get it, I'm doing the right thing, why isn't everyone else? I could see either making sense for you. But I am thinking you're an External Primary (Bird or Badger.)

I think they figured I'd be more "stimulated" in a class where I actually was learning instead of goofing off, and I was. Lol! I also had trouble with correcting people at inappropriate times that took me a while to figure out.

Welcome to neurodivergence. Every time I hear someone do the Titantic "I'm king of the world thing!" there a part of my brain that wants to say "um, actually, he says 'I'm the king of the world." No - bad impulse.

I'd correct people's grammar or spelling or if they got something wrong, thinking I was helping them, and then become very confused when they'd get angry and defensive. But, I figured out when I should just keep my mouth shut eventually. Lol.

Okay, I'm starting to have a theory about you. Because of the grammar policing specifically. All the police behavior I know comes from young Bird primaries. And I think it's because - grammar is a system, right? You're taught that this is the system, this is correct. Birds love systems. But English grammar specifically is a... bad system. These rules we're taught are arbitrary, recent, half of them only apply some of the time, and they don't reflect common usage (which changes anyway.) But a young Bird secondary is going to take a second to get to the point where they realize that. I would expect a Badger primary to police language in more community-of-practice ways - don't swear, that word is offensive, don't use the Lord's name in vain, etc - instead of really getting into the nuts and bolts of the actual language stuff.

For Intelligent: Well, it's the fact that I knew all the stuff I said above. Lol. I was a voracious reader and just absolutely absorbed knowledge like a sponge. I was eventually banned from participating in my class' spelling bees because I won too many times, so my teacher would have me sit with the word list and check if my classmates were right. Lol.  In case you haven't picked up on it, I was a very intense, passionate child. Lol.

It's very interesting that you locked on to spelling and grammar specifically. It seems like there may have been a puzzle aspect there that you liked.

For Empathetic: I pretty much formed the entirety of my friend groups out of other kids I felt had been pushed aside by the "popular kids," like my previously mentioned friendship. I'll never forget the moment I knew I'd be on the opposite end of "popular" for my whole school life: I was invited to a cool girl's party, but she told me my friend would not be allowed to go. I'm so proud of my younger self as I remember without even thinking making a scrunched up face and telling her I didn't wanna go if my friend couldn't go. That girl never liked me again, and since I went to a small school system (as well as some of my unfortunate social skills, which definitely came from my later diagnosed ADHD and potentially diagnosable autism, which I suspect but don't know for certain)

Oh, I called it! Anyway... I'm really doubling down on Idealist (almost certainly Bird), because of the specifics of this friend group. You built it like a Cause: "these people deserve a friend group." It's like a little revolutionary group, what you have in common is being Outcasts. It's a very Badger-flavored cause, sure, but this isn't how Badger primaries make friends. A universal Badger would absolutely invite the loners into the group, but it would be about inviting loners into the main group. For a Badger to specifically only trust loners they would have to be quite burned... and I'm not getting Burned primary from you at all.

I'm also doubling down on Lion secondary. You really like just planting your feet, speaking your truth, and if other people don't like it - that's a them problem. You didn't even have to think about it, and that made you feel strong and powerful - not nervous or anxious.

If I'm playing a video game, it's a super easy answer, but not one I like admitting. I just go the easiest route, which is often, from a meta standpoint, a guide.

Easiest, most direct point to the finish line? Just smash on through? LION.

Lol. I'm the same in pretty much all of my low-stakes problem-solving: Whatever solves the problem the quickest and the easiest is the best way to go. I LOVE short cuts, but not if they're overly complicated.

LION.

I'm also the type to think that doing something myself is faster than explaining my situation to someone else and ask for help.

I really think this is a Lion secondary thing. They just GO, and only ask for help if they've tried first and failed.

For a really difficult decision, if I'm given too much time to think about it, I usually flounder for hours or days or months or years until somebody finally puts a deadline on my decision. Suddenly, I go into "problem-solving mode" and I just choose SOMETHING.

That's Lion too. And there's a lot of power to that, honestly. But Lions have a kind of on/off way of operating at either 100% ('problem-solving mode' as you call it) or 0%.

Is it always the best choice? Honestly, I'm not sure there really ARE best choices at this point. Just the choices you make and how you prune them to your liking afterwards. I'm at my best making a decision when I have zero time to make it.

You're not a Prep-Work secondary. Thinking too long about a decision makes you feel worse, not better. You're getting in your own head, and psyching yourself out.

As an example, I do theater, and I LOVE the feeling of having to problem solve backstage, you have literal SECONDS to come up with something, ANYTHING to fix a problem, and whether the solution is perfect just goes out the door and all that matters is that SOMETHING happens, and there's nothing more freeing, since I have a tendency towards perfectionism or analysis paralysis. Where others freeze up, I'm sprinting across the stage, suddenly zeroing in on EXACTLY where the missing prop is, and putting it back in place JUST as the curtain rises. It's a rush like no other, and one of the few places I feel really, truly competent.

There are a LOT of jobs where this ability is ABSOLUTELY key. So long as you're in the right place, doing the right thing, this is a superpower. This is why we love Lions.

My fantasy is always finding a place where I feel really competent, where I can feel safe, have stability, and be able to be useful for that place.

That "useful" thing - that's you're Idealist primary talking. The "competent" thing... that's a key thing for you, this idea that you want to feel competent, and that you don't as much as you would like to. Your current problem solving strategy isn't so much fiery Lion as it is doormat Badger. I think it's likely that your secondary is a little Burnt (which is why you feel incompetent) and you've started modeling Badger to compensate.

Success and being seen as such is also part of that fantasy.

Having a lot of thoughts about being publicly recognized for your success... I mean yes of course it's a human thing, but it hits harder for young idealists.

Theater can be that for me, but stability is also part of my fantasy, and we live under the crushing weight of capitalism, so I could never make enough money to live while putting in all the time and effort for it that I'd want (at least, not right now, I haven't totally given up.) I still give as much of my time as I can to theater and the arts, like writing and creating. I love the theater because of the fast pace, and how I grew up in it and understand the process from top to bottom. Those in that community see me as incredibly competent in turn, instead of as "odd" or "forgetful" or "decision-phobic."

You've heard that ADHD people make great entrepreneurs? Not many people actually enjoy that fast-paced, freelance lifestyle. I think you'd be a great event co-ordinator, great at fund-raising and advertising, great production assistant... and those are only the fields I know something about. Don't let the haters get you down. You don't have to model Badger all the time.

As a kid, I was really drawn to Beauty and the Beast because of Belle's oddness, her ostracization from her own community, and her fulfilling my fantasy of finding a magical place with other "odd" people who accept her, see her as competent, accept her quirks, and keep her far, far away from the people who shun her. :)

She's also a really REALLY loud Lion secondary.

I also really identified with any girl character who was the sort of "rich, bitchy girl who's actually misunderstood and just wants friends." I didn't grow up especially rich, but I grew up with a terrible home life, people who shunned me because of me appearing "bossy" and "mean" when it was all a misunderstanding, and I also grew up feeling incompetent and out of my depth in "normal" situations like most poor little rich girls are shown when they try to adapt to life outside of their mansion. Examples are Elle Woods and Pacifica Northwest, among hundreds of others. The final type is Katara from Avatar, who I relate to based on where she feels most competent, in the "heat of battle," and how she struggles with learning to accept her own intensity (my bossiness or my tendency to wanna cut straight to the point, while also being someone filled with empathy and a love for certain levels of traditionally feminine self-expression.)

It makes a lot of sense that you identify with Katara. She is also a very fiery Lion secondary... who feels culturally pressured to model this caretaking Badger. And clearly she's extremely empathetic, and VERY idealistic. But she's more successful when she gets comfortable with her Lion.

(Sokka had a similar journey, learning he doesn't have to be a "warrior guy" Lion secondary... and instead leans into his natural Bird secondary. It's clearly something the show was interested in exploring. Also, now I really want to write a sorting of Legally Blonde. Because I would be VERY surprised if Elle is not a Lion secondary also.)

(also I've never really thought of as "poor little rich girl" as fun fictional way of exploring neurodivergence, but it honestly hangs together really well, especially for autism. More thought is needed.)

I feel powerful whenever I'm feeling competent, which if you can't tell is a really important word to me. Lol. I've been seen as incomptent in so many ways: clumsy, forgetful, socially too intense, too bossy, too much of a doormat when I try to turn down my intensity, etc... So, being seen as and feeling competent is my ultimate fantasy, like being a "boss babe" (cringe) where I'm walking around an office or a theater making quick decisions and talking about some deadline is part of my power fantasy.

It's not cringe. It makes you special. Like me? Oh no, that's not my fantasy. That sounds so stressful.

Lol. I work in a community serving position which I do like, but I hate how much "being nice" is involved, where your tone is monitored and you could get in trouble based on the way you said something, which can be a blind spot for me (though my history and passion for acting has helped me a bit in this.)

This definitely explains where the "doormat" Invisible Hufflepuff is coming from. You work in a job where "customer service face" is really, really important. But I bet your Idealist primary likes the... idealism of it all.

I think I'd feel more "free" and less caged in if I worked somewhere where your tone didn't matter quite as much.

I agree! And even within the community service/non-profit organization sphere, there definitely are jobs that are less public-facing.

I feel most powerful solving problems and jumping last minute on set changes in theater, or learning lines or a dance to fill in for a part in only a few hours. "Prep-time" can almost be a prison to me, when the ADHD/perfectionism creeps in and messes me up.

It is weird that "perfectionism" is so often treated as a cute quickly flaw. It a curse, it it the enemy of art... all this stuff I don't need to tell you. But yeah, this all sounds like Lion.

I've had a lot of difficult times, and all of them have come down to losing my community. I have had to walk away from friends and family due to ab*se and walk alone MULTIPLE times

On the surface this looks like a community-driven Badger primary, and like... it could be. It absolutely could be. One of the interesting aspects of this submission was how little you talked about primary, and how much you talked about secondary. I'm getting that your secondary IS your focus right now. You're looking for a place where your skills are needed, where you feel competent, useful, and secure. Once you've got THAT in place... you can start dealing with the metaphysical stuff.

I've failed at trying to make myself competent in places that didn't serve me, and I've been searching for a place to land ever since. I've found my community in some aspects of my life, but in others I'm still looking, but I haven't given up. My most important relationships are my friends and chosen family. I'm much more suspicious than I was as a kid, just inviting anyone I saw who needed a friend to be mine, but the people I have let in I truly cherish. :)

So my best guess... is that you're a Bird primary with a pretty Badger looking system. It's a system you're just letting sit at the moment, it's working fine. But to me, the way you write about switching communities here that match you Bird, not Badger. The process of leaving was terrible, but you're going to find a place that suits you (and your Lion secondary) better... next time. And you absolutely well.

Thank you so much!

You are so welcome.

Thank you to rinamars for such an excellent submission. If you’d like a Sorting of your very own, commissions are open on my ko-fi. :D

If you’d like to read more about the system I’m using, my explanation is right here.

[glitteringsunshine]

Gibbs’s Gal

Part 1

Pairing : Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

( crossover with madam Secretary)

Reader’s POV:

“Okay the reports done.” Jay said. “ You think these joint task force reports would be easy, but getting approval from all the departments is a real headache.”

“ So what’s the final title of the report?” I asked.

“ Corruption in selected foreign military and the difficulties in building Infrastructure” Phew. Err some parts of the NCIS report has been redacted. I don’t know why.” Blake said.

“ Well we need to find out. I mean the it’s their marines who are working for the state building infrastructure. But state has the right to know ground data.” I said.

“ Yeah ,I tried to talk with the NCIS Director but he shut me out. “ Nadine said.

“ Well its not only State’s development money , but it is also the funding of many international Agencies. We can’t put up redacted reports to the UN.” I stated.

“ Well I will ask Russell Jackson to look it up. After all nothing is Privy from POTUS”. As his chief of staff Russell Jackson will know what to do.

….

“ Y/N , come with me to Russell Jackson”. The Msec said.

“ About the Corruption report?” I asked .

“ Yes”.

I quickly hopped in with Msec in her motorcade.

“ Ohh wow aren’t we going to his office?” I asked.

“ Apparently a top secret meeting is going to happen here.” She said.

“ Really ! In the Men's Restroom.” I rolled my eyes.

“ Well not my first choice” she chuckled.

“ Apparently Henry is coming in too” she said.

“ What’s DIA have to do with the report?” I asked.

“ Yeah I would like to know why I am meeting my husband in a men’s room too Y/N, sorta reminds me of college” she chuckled.

“ I heard the door open and saw Tony and McGee walk in.”

“ Hello Y/N, nice to see you”. McGee said.

“ Hello” Tony said warmly. ��Gibbs asked us to come here, any idea why?”

“ Vague one. BTW meet the Secretary of State”

“ Huge fan” They said in unison. “ Ma’am you are my favourite politician” Tony said.

“ Don’t say that . She hates the word” I chuckled.

“ Done being a fan, Dinozzo ? Then we can discuss stuff.” I heard Gibbs say as Henry ,Gibbs and the Director of NCIS walked in, followed closely by Russell Jackson.

Introductions were made. Though all of us knew others by reputation.

“ This is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs” Henry said. He is a fellow marine. He served under me in the marines. I believe you two have met before.”

“ Yes we crossed paths a few times related to work” I nodded.

“OK”said Russell Jackson. “In a Joint mission by NCIS and DIA we have uncovered alarming human rights violations in the countries mentioned in the report. The part redacted is actually the source that helped us uncover this.”

“ We studied the file” . “ Well State knew we were fighting Corruption, but this is cruel”.

“ Yes” Henry said. “ They kept it so hushed up , even CIA did not catch wind.” One of the translators working there when we were deployed as Marines has now rose in their military ranks. He brought this to us.”

“Henry, I mean Dr . McCord worked extensively with him, the asset ,our source. . Henry was not only my superior officer in the Marines, but we hung out together. Anyhow that’s how we met him , in a bar while we were hanging out. He was young , idealistic and Dr McCord hired him . We were in dearth of translators and he helped us. Anyhow we are planning to present the military leader in the international Criminal Court.”

“ We have frozen some of his assets. However he got wind of it. The dictator thinks there is a leak. Before we can pursue the dictator , we need to get our asset out. Now the state is visiting to Geneva right , to sign a trade deal?”

“ Now the asset trusts only Henry and Gibbs” Russell Jackson said. “ The asset is visiting Geneva with the dictator. We can take him in safety there. Henry and Gibbs have to go. Henry’s cover is as Msec’s arm candy. Gibbs will your date Y/N. Since the event in WTO mentions that staff could bring dates, he will be yours.”

I nodded.

“ Oh one more thing. The week in Geneva, you will be sharing a room with him. The dictator suspects we might to do an extraction. If by any chance he gets to know a staff’s date is in a separate room, he will get our plan. We need to be careful. “

“ I am Okay with it if Special Agent Gibbs is” I said , to which he nodded.

“ While Henry and Gibbs works the extraction, your job is to get the trade deal signed by him. It’s a multilateral agreement and when we present him to the International Criminal Court, there will be instability in the country. We don’t know if we could get his successor to agree to the trade deal. Since they control vital maritime routes , it’s important we get them to sign the deal. “

“ Now that his assets are frozen, he might use the trade deal as a leverage to unfreeze it. We can’t unfreeze the assets. Then the dictator would escape before we could get to him.” Russell said.

“ So Y/N” you would have to drop into NCIS once to work on your cover.” Henry said.

“ While you are at it familiarize Jethro with the protocols okay.” Msec said.

…

Jethro’s POV:

I saw Y/N walking in with a huge binder. How on earth does she work in those heels. Well they were sexy though. I would like to fuck her with those boots on. Wow from where did that thought come from. I blinked to get that image off my head.

“ Well here are the protocols. Covers the banquets ,dinners etc. There are pointers on the meet and greet style for people from different countries. Learn them” she said taking off her coat.

“McGee pointers” I said handing the file over to him.

“ Gibbs protocol is important. Go through it.” She said leaning against my desk.

As she did ,I could see her cleavage peeking out from her blouse. I suddenly had this urge to cup her voluptuous breasts, knead them. She was inches from my mouth. I wondered how her lips would taste. Her dark red lipstick looked so enticing. I got this urge to brush my thumb on her lips, to kiss her with a passion she has never known. Her eyes beneath her glasses spoke of wild seduction and pure temptation. Like the finest whiskey in a crystal glass, it sparkled against the light. What attracted me more was the inherent kindness and exuberance that was reflected in her eyes, like hot chocolate on a cold December night. I couldn’t look away from her. She held my gaze until she blinked. “ Gibbs you have to read them okay. I don’t care if Mcgee helps with a framework or something , but get it done, okay. McGee I will highlight the important points.”

As she bent down to talk to McGee, I couldn’t help but stare at her ass. The loose skirt she wore did not really highlight her body, but as she bend down, I could see her attractive curves, the voluptuous beauty if it, from the bent of her hips and ass to her lovely thighs. I heard her laugh with McGee. Suddenly I was filled with an insane jealous rage.

“ Do your job McGee. You can laugh and fool around later. Y/N in Abby’s lab now. Let’s get it over with the cover story . I have other cases to solve.” I said.

I barged out ,Y/N following me.

“ Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs” Abby said. “ Look I went through the Admiral’s journal.He was going through a divorce right. So I finally managed to read through it , not easy because of the codes , but look he found out that his lawyer arranged for someone to roofie his wife and take suggestive photos , making everyone believe that she had cheated. That’s when our missing Admiral wanted to confront the lawyer.”

“ I need more Abby.”

“ See the lawyer meets her clients out of her office. She has this weird jamming programme where we can’t triangulate her cell location. But if we get her to meet , I can access her cell data, her client list , her records of who she set up , how she got the roofie, who she used a photographer, everything.”

“ We need to get the location of our kidnapped admiral. Or else she would leverage that for a deal.”

“ Well Gibbs you can go in as a client. You can tell her to meet at a bar my friend owns. She has great tech that breaks signal jammers for video games. She uses them in her bar ,so she could play video games without any interference. I can put in someone undercover as a waitress . In that way while I attach a chip on you to hack her phone data, someone can get her phone locations.”

“ Well, Ziva, Kate, Jessica and Ellie have all interrogated and talked to her. So who to put.” I ask.

“ Her” Abby says looking at Y/N.

“ You can go undercover right?” I asked. Why didn’t it strike me before.

“ What me? Hmm ok” Y/N says.

…

“ Stop fidgeting Y/N” I said, looking at her in her waitress uniform.

“ The skirt is too short and tight” she said pulling at it.

“ Ohh God. I don’t have the body for such an outfit. I look awkward. There’s no way I can pull it off. Your lawyer will know something is off.”

“ Relax. You look wonderful. You can’t pull it off. “

“ Uhh huh keep the coat in the van and walk. There is no way a waitress can afford such a coat.” I said.

“ Got the data Boss” we have her. McGee said.

“ Yeah got all the locations she had been. “ Abby said.

“Okay Tony ,Nick follow the lawyer.”

“ Jessica , Ellie get to location 1 ,Ziva and Kate to location 2”.

…

As I walked Y/N to my car, I realised she disnt have her coat. She was shivering. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her.

“ Thanks” she said.

“ Good Job” I smiled at her. Dropping the menu to get close to her for the signal. Brilliant” I smiled.

“ You know you should smile more often Gibbs. It really looks good on you.”

“ Says the woman who forgot to smile in her year book photo” I chuckled.

“ So you did a background check on me” she laughed.

“ Well I needed to know who I am sending undercover. Plus I was curious . I wanted to know you, understand you better.” I confessed.

“ I was trying to portray the bold mysterious enigmatic look in that yearbook photo” she chuckled. “ You know typical teenage rebellion phase.” She laughed. “ I was a need but a rebel too, breaking rules , being a brat, resisting authority. In some sort of way I thought not smiling in my yearbook photo was an act of rebellion. I was a brat then, pretty mischievous. But my grades were really good. Plus I had this knack of avoiding suspicion, so didn’t get into trouble.”

“ You are still a brat.” I chuckled. “ It has worked Well for you though, helping you think out of the box.”

“ You have your fair share of out of the box thinking, disregard of protocol too, cowboy.” “ Yeah I looked you up too.”

I didn’t realise when I have gotten so close to her, her lips centimetres away from mine. It will be so easy to brush my lips against hers. She leaned in slightly. I leaned in too. Suddenly her phone rang.

“ Yeah , thanks Blake. I would look into the keynote speaker for the International Women’s Education Summit.” She said.

If only that stupid phone didn’t ring right now. I was so close to kissing her. I would have loved to hold her close to me, kissing her ,exploring her, feel her heartbeats against mine. Get a grip Marine.

…

Reader’s POV:

“ So how do you two meet?” “ Uhh Dating website, that’s a good cover.” Abby said.

Gibbs was standing behind me , bending down to look at the computer screen. His close presence made me feel butterflies in my stomach. “ Nope, find a better one” Gibbs said.

“ Maybe in a coffee shop, while we were getting coffee?” Gibbs continued.

“ Boring” Abby said.

“ Maybe at a bar. Two complete strangers. Fucked behind the alley. Had on and off casual sex. Then started dating.” I mused.

“ Wow , Hot.” Abby Exclaimed.

“ English Lit major here. I know how to write a good story. You should always be specific when you lie you know.” I chuckled.

“ That’s one of my rules too” Gibbs laughed. “ So who made the first move? How many times in the alleyway ?”

“ What?”

“ Specifics remember?”

“ I Will let you two work that out” Abby laughed.

…

We were going through our covers. We saw the lawyer being escorted out. Suddenly she took out the gun of an NCIS agent holding the entire squad room at gunpoint.

“ I will not go to prison” the lawyer said.

“Okay ,Okay ,we can talk” I said.

“ I will walk out from here, you will not follow me” she said. “ Get me that box of money and fake passports you confisticated now”

“ OK, Ok I said . I am bringing it.” Then looking at my shoes, I looked at Gibbs, a silent understanding passing between us.

I took the evidence box and approached her . Then jammed my foot on her, my stilleto shoes causing her real pain and she dropped her gun. Gibbs immediately slipped it away as Ziva tried to handcuff her.

“You bitch” she shouted at me, and she attacked Ziva, snatching her knife and throwing it at me. Gibbs immediately pulled me down on the floor , protecting me with him on top of me before Ziva subdued her. The knife however hit the window and a piece of glass cur my shoulder. I gasped at the pain.

Jethro’s POV:

I looked at Y/N. I saw the blood from the glass that had cut her shoulders.

I pulled her up. She looked shaken. I pulled her in a hug , holding her tight against my chest.

“ Get Ducky now”. I said to Kate.

“ You know Y/N it’s okay to say it hurts while getting stitches.” Ducky said. “ You don’t have to grit your teeth and put up a brave face.”

“ You gave me painkillers Ducky. Plus the Alcohol you made me chug helped me with the nerves, as you said.”

“ You gave her painkillers with alcohol Ducky?”

“ Well it helps with the nerves . Though I suggest she doesn’t drive today.” Ducky said.

“ I will take her home Ducky.”

Ducky finished doing her stitches. “ Well you can take her home now Jethro.”

“ Come Y/N , let me take you home.”

“ But I don’t want to go home. I wanna see the world” she pouted.

“ What painkillers making you loopy kid?” I chuckled. “ Come.” I said as I took her hand.

“ Ahh such a gentleman. You don’t have to be so kind. I won’t sue NCIS for the damages” she giggled. “ I am sorry about your jacket though. I can buy you another.”

“ It’s okay Y/N.”

She tiptoe on her feet ,suddenly brushing her lips against mine and softly sucking on it. “ Kind of wanted to do that all day long” she giggled.

I lost my self control then. I crashed her lips against her passionately. She gasped at the sensation and as she parted her lips I shoved my tongue inside her . I felt so close to her. She responded eagerly. As we broke for oxygen I looked into her eyes. “ I have wanted to do that all day along too”.I said . Her eyes reflected the desire I felt. I picked her up and carried her to my car. I buckled her seatbelt before driving.

“ That’s not the way to my home.” She said.

“ I am taking you to my place?”

“ To your bed” she giggled.

“ I would be lying if I said I don’t want you in my bed Y/N. You have no idea what has gone through my head from the morning, Ohh the things I want to do to you.” “ Well how drunk are you?”

“ Drunk enough to really have the nerves to go to bed with you.Not enough for you to think guily of taking advantage of me.” She said dazed.

“ Ohh Y/N I want to be with you tonight. But you have alcohol and painkillers in your system. I don’t want you to do anything you will regret in the morning.”

“ You don’t want me?”

I took her hand into mine placing it against my crotch. “ You feel the hardness Y/N . You did that. I want you so much Y/N. But it’s not fair to you. I would like to take you when you are fully sober.”

“ She rubbed her hands against my crotch. I did that .” She giggled. “ I would like to feel more of that hardness.”

My cock throbbed against my pants. “Y/N , you are making it difficult for me to concentrate on the road.”

“ Oops Sorry. She withdrew her hands and started biting her nails and sucking her thumbs.”

This girl is really gonna test my patience and my honour. I have to keep my self control control.

“ Don’t bite your nails. It’s a bad habit.”

As a response she stuck out her tongue at me, making me laugh.

We arrived at my place. I carried her to my bedroom , put her down on my bed. I gave her one of my hoodies to change into.

When I came to the room again after changing to a hoodie and sweatpants , I found her half asleep. I gently tucked her in, kissing her forehead and Patting her forehead.

“ I wish you would stay” she mumbled.

“ You really want me to?”

“ Only if you are comfortable”

“ Good. Cause I want to.” I said . Then I laid down beside her, pulling her close to me ,cuddling her as we both drifted off to sleep. The sensation of her against me really turned me on , but I also felt a comfort, a warmth I did not want to lose. Her touch was like a drug to me.

…

“ I woke up in the morning. Y/N laid in my arms fast asleep. I have never felt so much peace ,so much bliss, that I felt at that moment. Gently I nuzzles at her neck. “ I think I maybe falling in love with you” I whispered. Gently kissing her forehead, I got up.

I was rock hard and needed a cold shower. I willed my Dick to go down, but it had a mind of its own. I imagined Y/N’s mouth and fingers around my cock and stroked my Shaft. I thought of how it would feel to be inside her. I shot my load in my hand and floor. Then taking a cold shower , I went to cook breakfast.

“ Hi good morning” she said. “Smells delicious.”

I offered her some coffee. “ So how would you want your eggs? Runny or dry.”

“ None. Cause I think your pan’s on fire.”

“ Shoot fuck I said” putting it out.

We both ended up laughing together. At that moment I felt so whole. I moved towards her. Then holding her gaze I cupped her face before claiming her lips.

[r0tt3n-corpse]

Fandom: Batman: The Animated Series

Oswald Cobblepot x Gender Neutral Reader headcanons

Warning, story contains: No warnings needed, just some very short headcanons on how you two meet.

Author’s note: I LOVE OSWALD SO MUCH, this is probably one of my favorite versions of him because he’s such a cutie

Meeting Oswald:

This story isn’t one of love at first sight, nor anything of the sort, because.. well, that’s not what happened.

You were just a worker, one at Veronica Vreeland’s manor. Maybe you were part of the waitstaff, maybe you were a cleaner or maid, the specifics didn’t quite matter.

Veronica threw parties often, as any rich person did, so you were at least used to it. You, admittedly, had been surprised to learn she was throwing a party for her new.. date, though.

Well, it wasn’t like it was something for you to worry about anyways. Your thoughts on your boss went only as far as your paycheck did.

You, of course, had to work the night of the party. It was a big thing, even for Veronica. Still, it wasn’t your job to care.

…but, you.. kinda did? It was weird, the way you felt as you accidentally stumbled upon Veronica’s new… err.. “boyfriend” as he was on the balcony. You’d never believed in fate, in fact it sorta made you anxious to think none of your actions mattered because fate would always make the outcome the same, but.. oh.

He was looking at you now. Wide eyed and stiff like a confused animal. Face, once scrunched up and scowling from learning Veronica was only using him, was now covered lightly by blush.

Okay, so.. it was only partially true. It hadn’t been love at first sight for you.

(I was originally going to write more but I can’t think of anything else to add so im going to just post it like this since I know Oswald lovers have seen starving for content 💔) (I’m the Oswald lover that’s been starving 😼)