#I just think this whole conversation is neat

[secondhand-lions]

looks @ u like this

using this as an excuse to talk about sirenity because they're easily one of my Guys Of All Time and iiiiii don't get to talk about them a whole lot

- is an excellent musician (virtuoso! but primarily anything with strings!) and artist! he also has synaesthesia (which, like their dyslexia, was less severe before The Benny Incident) and perfect pitch and they're an uncannily good mimic.

- fully knows and understands RobCo Termlink code and can, therefore, talk with the vast majority of robots/androids/computers in the wasteland

- there is not nearly enough time to go into their sex life. they've been around. very casual about sex and relationships to the point where it circles back around to become an intense soul-rending need for People and Connection and then it circles back around AGAIN to being very casual. two things can be true at once

- met and talked with benny -> "well. goddamn that's a lot to think about" -> met with House -> "even more to think about. shit." -> Courier Walking Instinct kicks in -> muscle memory takes them back to Primm -> Johnson Nash knows enough about them to recognize the Walk To Think state they're in, accepts that this is a short meeting -> Sirenity keeps going, still on muscle memory to the entrance to the Divide -> thats the thing that snaps them out of their sorta half-dissociative state -> "fuck i'm hungry" -> back to Primm for Ruby's casserole -> turns around, sees the ruined drive-in -> "y'know what? yeah. a movie sounds good right now." -> OWB (during which their mental state is surprisingly good! a creeping dread of familiarity at the sight of the painted old world flags and the descriptions of the other visitors, but yknow! that's fine! then they have a breakdown upon hearing Ulysses' voice again.)

- indeterminate amount of time and gameplay -> Dead Money -> stick around in the mojave for a bit before finally relenting and admitting that they have to back out and recover from the Cloud for a bit ("i have to go clear my lungs") -> Honest Hearts

- casual friendly situationship/QPR with Arcade, kinda a cool older cousin/sister figure to Veronica, good friends with Cass and Raul, visits Lily as much as they can. i'm not really sure of where they stand with Boone. they very badly want to tell him "i think you can be proud of the work you put into something without being proud of what the thing was or did or became" but like... Boone wants an ending, a neat little all-loose-ends-are-tied finish, and Sirenity is living proof that that sort of thing doesn't just Happen. they never were good at delivering endings, anyway.

- post-game otp is sirenity/ulysses but it's open because they both know that they can't always provide what the other needs/wants and love is more of a verb than a feeling anyway

- good friends with the Khans, Followers, and Kings!

- was genuinely really hoping that Benny would stick around after their conversation. not even mad about getting shot or jumped by his bodyguards.

- uhhhhmmmm OH YEAH Mobius was. such a refreshing presence for them. even if they do have to stand weird to keep eachother out of their blindspots. "crazy fuckers missing an eye who experience more visual inputs than should be there" solidarity. she helps with his messed up sensors :]

- honestly i think Sirenity's VERY very postgame jaunt to the Commonwealth is. just straight up in their canon now.

- scars from the Big Mt Spine Removal and Subsequent Un-Removal look like train tracks :) because i think it's cool

- whenever someone gets incredulous about how much stuff and people and places they know of or about or just straight up know their reply is "i have Lived a Life"

- that post about aragorn son of arathorn being sad(lonely) BECAUSE he knows so many people, not despite knowing so many people or knowing so many people despite being sad(lonely)? yeah that applies here. always missing someone. pulls them in so many different directions and yet! and yet! they wander down a new path. courier walking instinct.

- oh yeah they definitely have something set up so the Followers can use the resources of Big MT. that's probably their most regular delivery

- ANOTHER THING! pre-benny incident, the NCR had put a bounty on one of the Khans (haven't thought of a specific person) and Sirenity just. took the wanted poster and moseyed on over to their camp to warn them ("you...? why would you do this?" - "well, if someone i cared about had a hit put out on them, i'd sure as shit want to know about it") and that's how they meet Jessup and McMurphy

- and then DURING the Benny Incident, during the "maybe the Khans don't look the people they kill in the eye-" line, Sirenity shoots Jessup a Look that says "you work with this guy???"

- needless to say they were. very blasé about mortal danger. still is. if there's a multi-perspective story they're really going to try and find the other perspective(s)

yayyyyy okay i think that's it!

Nobody including me posts about their ocs enough so please please please reblog reply or whatever with some oc tidbits!

[that-dreaming-dragon]

Origin Theory

Asking someone's origin feels like asking someone what's their assigned gender at birth. That's like, undermining who they are as a person, correct gender and all. Maybe there's value in knowing where one came from, but that's pretty personal.

At the least, the alterhuman community at large don't really hound on people for their origin from what I'd seen. It's a lot of people offering up their origin story. Is this a need to be validated due to all the past discourse surrounding spiritual vs psychological origin?

On the same vein, voluntariness. It's another form of origin theory that gets a little, I'm not sure redundant is the right word, but it takes away a lot of personal agency when dealing with something that's your own, one's identity.

With how vastly diverse and just generally limitlessness of alterhuman identities, having something so finite and restrained is so strange. Maybe for presentation towards the newcomer and orthohuman outside the community it's important to keep things simple--box labeled and everything organized like a file cabinet. But within the community? Conversation flows easier, as I observed, when people put not as much stock with the origin theory. Although it is still fun to talk about, speculating one's own "how I came about", it really shouldn't be the "oh no, I'm psychological/spiritual" then proceeds to panic. I donno, I fortunately haven't seen this. Though, I can't remember how it was when I first found the community roughly 5 or 6 years ago, I vaguely recall the emphasis on spirituality with implicitness of how much more important it is than psychological. I guess there is still that lingering around. Although I'd heard how in some circle, it's the reverse. This whole thing is just so dumb and really not cool. I don't have the right word here, but please hear my frustration.

A lot of things with alterhumanity by itself is fascinating. I like hearing about people contemplating whether they are spiritual, psychological, I love hearing the one alien that has a philosophical relationship with their alterhumanity, I know of a couple dragons who start their draconity as artistic expression of the self. These are really cool! And knowing for some the cause of their alterhumanity is from their neurodivergence made me think about myself. Knowing about people that have other lives, whether it's living in parallel with other universes, inside time loops, or having a identity because they will become that one day? That's all really neat.

We don't need to proof who we are within the community. Isn't that one of the point of having a community? We shouldn't need to validate ourselves to the folks who are suppose to be just like us, or at least understand what we are going through in some way.

I mentioned just now how some have identity that they become due to artistic expression, there is a implictness of the voluntariness in there. They are still who they are in the end. (do the end justified the mean? That's when on making decision to do something. not dealing with identity stuff) Personal journey such as alterhuman self discovery are, the whole thing would matter differently to people, some would care for the path they'd took, some only look at where they are, some care for every single moment, some just goes with the flow, and it is all perfectly okay! Because we are all unique individual experiencing our own thing.

I mean, if we are talking about explicitly intensionally created bond towards something, aka linking, that's something explicitly voluntary. Yet quoiluntary exists as a term for people's use, and there is a need for it! There's this focus on a linktype as something you can drop, but there's the concept Anteatype--a identify-as (kin/theriotype) that has been dropped, which makes the whole "something that can be pick up voluntarily and then drop as easily" as the definition people point to kind of null. It's the one post Poppy on tumblr had said

'Paratype' only tells you about the origin of the connection/identity, not its substance.

To me, “otherlinking” only tells me that it was from without, external, applied with a will, to actively create or strengthen a connection, preexisting or not. And then later on if someone feel the need to shift their terminology to better fit their experience, it's a option. Though it can be scary, the community is there to support.

I know at one point I myself also put emphasis on how much my origin is. I mean I did mention me finding that my hearttype is far more spiritual inclined than my kintype. I ascribe to the metaphoric in origin for my kintype these days though. It's not important a conversation, though I do like to ruminate on it myself for my own curiosity.

Course I wish we can completely move away from the need to define these boxes, but I suppose we can treat them like alterhuman identity training wheel. You can use them when you first found the whole concept, it might help to keep things simple and more concrete. Later on, when you are ready to fly, you can gently let them go, or pin them up on your pin board hoard, say "okay, I'd done that, now let's see what else there are". Be a little explorer, except the vast beyond is the little universe within your very self.

[scoups4lyfe]

awwww okay :')

lol he just asks him 😭

I did NOT come into this episode expecting the Jirou/Murasame bromance but I am **HERE** for it

I think it's actually really nice that Jirou isn't saying he has all the answers, but rather sharing a moment of camaraderie over something he isn't sure about either ;_;

"How do we live?"

Is a really good and actually very deep question

he also just perfectly described multiple personalities tbh

(not that I know SH*T about that topic, so don't come for my wig)

but yeah, isn't the main question there, "How do we live? How can we go on living?" And so you become something else to figure it out /to deal with the problem

it's something I find to be a very human reaction.

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/764256940366938112/before-reading-the-comics-thanks-to-sladixk-fics?source=share

I think it may also have to to with the Teen Titans cartoon – and the age we were when we saw it. I have this memory of an episode in particular (3x05 - 'Haunted') as pure psychological warfare... and something that evolved as the whumpy-ship flavour i love nowadays

(post in question) you're definitely right! though i was never a fan of the show, i've seen the Slade clips and i know the show went to lengths to make Slade seem almost otherworldly in how terrifying he was, especially to Dick. and since that show has left it's *mark* on DC content, canon and fanon, it's often a basis for Slade and the Titans in general. and like you said, the age we watch this stuff shapes a lot. those episodes as a young kid? absolutely horrifying. they felt so unsettling and dark and it rlly does make Slade have sticking power in the brain as being *very* deadly and how easy it is to imagine him always beating Dick.

i don't know how old Dick is in the show, but i can't imagine he's more than 16. which emphasizes that Slade teens to go against teens. can Slade beat Dick at that age? very likely yes, even in the comics. (though Slade was introduced when Dick was already an adult, so we don't have a ton of content exploring that in comics) the age you put Dick at when he fights Slade can change a lot. i always view Dick as an adult when he's fighting Slade, in which case Dick can usually win pretty easily. but if you slide him younger, you do have much more room for that fucked up whump that the show blessed us all with. which is the fun of this ship in general, it does contain multitiudes.

[stranger-detective]

I think there should be a Percy Jackson x The Owl House crossover for one reason only:

*something goes wrong*

Luz: Titan dang it!

Percy:

Percy: what did you just say

[hanamiyama-basketball-club]

Don't ask creators to validate your headcanons, surely the point of headcanons is that they don't need validation

I *do* love when creators love their characters enough that they can give you a considered and enthusiastic answer to any bonkers question you ask - it isn't the same as canon, and creators who don't do that are absolutely reasonable, ofc. Sometimes a character is just a tool in a story to them, not a beloved blorbo. (Frequently, presumably.) But it's hard not to have your heart warmed by watching a creator's face light up when you ask who would win in a staring contest. By questions I mean like, "what do you think", not "tell me I'm right".

I dunno. I don’t mean to say that you have to worship the creators (and I'm completely eliding the distinction between cases where one person generally makes the decisions, editorial willing, and shows that have a whole staff, etc). But A. If you liked their creation enough to be a fan, shouldn't you be interested in their ideas if they're interested in sharing them? (And leaving them alone if they aren't) Rather than going up and asserting the superiority of yours? And B. Oh my god do not draw official attention to fandom we are so embarrassing you should be more embarrassed

(And if you do think they have generally bad ideas why do you think they'll like yours)

(Also C while I'm here please stop acting like an actor has the same amount of control over the story as a writer does, what the hell, this is basic stuff)

I feel sometimes like a lot of fandom like ... beyond just "you don't have to strictly adhere to canon" (cool and fine! though mostly not appealing to me) just straight up defaults to hating canon and creators for whatever they're into and expects the same for other people and like... okay, but why are you there, I don't get it. Just go find a thing you actually like

[violentlydefending]

maybe nobody's played plvspw and maybe plvspw is insane and maybe it takes place in britain but it's still better than aa5 and 6 i'll die on this hill

[sophfandoms53]

The utilization of the white eye design for stealth mode was single handedly the best decision they made

THIS SHOT IN PARTICULAR I THINK ABOUT ALL THE TIME

Stealth itself was handled incredibly well in 2012. This version emphasizes on the boys being in hiding the most, they always stay in the shadows and know how to sneak around, they use it to their advantage constantly. The boys are incredibly strategic and dangerous whenever they’re in stealth mode and the animation is creative with it every time (as seen above)

One of my favorite aspects to notice on every rewatch.

Also him

I don’t know who the genius was who had the idea of putting a literal kraang carcass onto Mikey’s head along with wrapping some of its limbs around his arms and one of his legs and then proceeded to call this Savage Mikey but I am SO GLAD that he exists.

[ovaryacted]

pervy old man logan save me pervy old man logan save meeeeee

─ Pervy! Old man Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied [Logan is canon age, reader is 21+]. Bit of flirting (if you squint). Logan is a little pervy (duh). Wandering eyes. Panty stealing. Panty sniffing. Upskirting. Lewd thoughts. Bit of voyeurism. Teasing. Hints of degradation. Use of pet names (hun, darlin', princess). Mutual Masturbation (sorta). Groping. Clitoral stimulation. Possible dub-con at the end (reader is under the influence). Mentions of reader's clothing: skirts, dresses, sexy attire due to working at a club. Reader is hinted to be a little naive.

Be soooo glad that I love you. (And I do, very much). This is for the real ones that just want to fuck that nasty old man, and this is a bit different than what I usually write, but I had a thought and I ran with it. Hope you all enjoy this little crazy piece!

pervy! old man Logan who finds you working as a bottle girl in a downtown club after he drops off a bachelorette party, drawn to you when you step outside for some fresh air on your break. While chatting with him, you rant about your unfavorable living situation, and he proposes you take the spare room in his apartment under the guise of convenience and keeping you safe. You take it, not thinking of anything besides getting much-needed help

pervy! old man Logan who doesn’t mind having you around in his apartment. You’re quiet, neat, and not to mention a sight for sore eyes. He finds his gaze wandering over your figure when you walk around the space you share with him. Of course, he does that when you aren’t paying attention.

pervy! old man Logan who wakes up a bit early to make some coffee and breakfast for the both of you. He stands over the stove and gestures to your mug on the counter filled with freshly brewed coffee made just the way you like.

pervy! old man Logan who converses with you in the morning, asking how you slept and your plans for the day. He uses it as a good excuse to look at your chest, the stiff peaks of your nipples poking through the material of your baggy t-shirt.

pervy! old man Logan who approves of the skimpy outfits you wear for your work shifts at the club. Your attire consisted of latex shorts and tight bodysuits that leave nothing to the imagination, and he’s always looking at you, ready to give you the praise and approval you seek. 

“Yeah darlin’, it fits like a glove. Turn around for me, gotta get the whole view.”

pervy! old man Logan who drives you to and from work for your shifts. Late at night, he waits for you outside and leans against the side of his limo, smoking a cigar as he does. When you step out and stride towards him with a sway in your hips after a good shift, you lean against him for a hug. He follows through, squeezing your waist with one arm, fingers almost sneaking towards your ass.

pervy! old man Logan who looks at your thighs shifting as he drives. His palm itches to touch your skin, to squeeze you hard enough to bruise and leave his mark. But he refrains, tightening his grip on the steering wheel instead.

pervy! old man Logan who watches you change from the gap of your bedroom door, ogling at your bare back as you walk around your room, finding something to wear. You finally turn, giving Logan a nice view of your bare breasts, nipples stiff from the cool air. He can feel his slacks getting tighter just from looking at you, his mouth craving for a taste of you.

pervy! old man Logan who offers to help put on your shoes when you’re wearing dresses or skirts. He’ll place your foot on his thigh and tie your heeled boots while your hands are on his shoulders for balance. He doesn’t mind helping you out so long as he gets a good glimpse at the underwear you’re wearing for the day.

pervy! old man Logan who teases you and plays with the edges of your clothes frequently. You’ll walk beside him doing grocery runs or passing by him when you reach for a cup in the overhead cabinets in the kitchen. He takes it as an opportunity to intentionally lift your bottoms to prove how provocative your clothes are. Blatantly whistling at your ass coming to view, you smack his hand away and grow flustered. He only chuckles at your reaction.

“C’mon, hun. You don’t gotta get all shy on me. It’s not my fault these skirts are just too damn short.”

pervy! old man Logan who takes your panties when he’s doing the laundry, admiring the thin pieces of fabric you concealed under your clothes. The first time he found your underwear in his batch of laundry, he ran his fingers over the gusset, bringing it up to his nose and taking a whiff. He stuffs the pair into his pocket, saving it for later to wrap over his length when you’re asleep.

pervy! old man Logan who knows you get yourself off in the late hours of the night or early in the morning when you think he’s sleeping. He can hear you through the thin walls of the apartment, his heightened senses working overtime to catch the muted whimpers you release as you touch yourself. He tries to imagine what position you’re in, if you were completely naked or still had your underwear on, lying on your back or your face smushed into the pillow, arching your spine. He brings a hand cup himself, jerking off in tandem to your moans, wishing it were your fingers curling around his cock instead.

pervy! old man Logan who brings you home after you’ve had too many drinks at work, a result of serving a bachelor party and keeping them entertained with tequila shots. It paid off. You got a hefty tip at the end of the night, evident from the giddy expression on your face when you exit the front doors. Logan is waiting for you outside the club like usual, holding your figure steady against him as you giggle into his chest from your wobbly steps.

pervy! old man Logan who keeps a hand on your knee the entire drive back to the apartment. You didn’t seem to mind it this time, staring off into the window and watching the streetlights pass you. Humming a tune to yourself, you glance at Logan when his hand drifts higher to your thigh, offering a squeeze and receiving a sweet smile in return.

pervy! old man Logan who “helps” you get comfortable once you’re both home. You don’t say anything when he tugs your clothes away, stripping you of your shorts and tights, your top coming off next. You have half a mind to tell him you didn’t need his help, he knows you can handle yourself, but all he does is give you a toothy smirk.

“Easy. Just trying to make sure you’re taken care of. I always take care of you baby, don’t I?”

pervy! old man Logan who takes off your bra and flings it to the side, leaving you in your undies. You look up at him, slightly in a daze, taking in his rugged appearance. His large hands are on your hips, keeping you upright as your breathing grows uneasy, warmth coursing through you along with the alcohol you consumed.

pervy! old man Logan who steps closer to you, chest to chest, hovering over your body and listening to your heart beating in your ribcage. His textured palms begin to roam, running down your spine and reaching to cup your ass, kneading the flesh between his fingers. You whimper, gripping Logan’s button-down shirt to ground yourself.

pervy! old man Logan who places one singular kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, biting your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to come out. Here you were, tipsy and left to his mercy, panties beginning to stick as slick blossomed between your legs. All the touching, teasing, and toying around from the man who’s cared for you is now coming to fruition. Maybe you should be a little worried, but somewhere along the way, you stopped giving a shit.

pervy! old man Logan who grins widely when you lean further against him, releasing a quivering exhale when his fingers slip between your thighs, rubbing your clit through the lace that covered you. He groans at the feel of how wet you’ve gotten for him, the specific pair of panties he’s touching was a personal favorite he’s “borrowed” a few times before rewashing them. Your core throbbed under his touch, lifting your head to stare at him, pupils blown. He could feel the blood in his body rushing south to tug at his groin, the bulge you felt at your lower stomach growing harder with every passing minute.

“How about you give your old man a kiss and let him play with you a little? Doesn’t that sound nice, princess?”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[scretladyspider]

so I had a conversation while getting prepped for anesthesia yesterday where I got to educate a lesbian nurse about asexuality and it made my heart very warm

I don’t know why?? but when she asked my sexual orientation (it was in patient info) I just said “asexual” (I guess I was nervous about stuff and my brain just did it) and she was like “it doesn’t list that option so I’ll put other but what is that? If it’s okay that I’m asking”

and I was really nervous but figured I had already taken the leap without looking, so I said “well it’s like… so, you have little or no sexual attraction. Like you just don’t have it. Or some people do rarely, like I’ve had it a few times in my whole life.”

I thought about talking about demisexuality but decided to just stick with the larger umbrella for simplicity.

she considered this and asked, “is it kinda like abstinence, like you don’t want to do it?”

And I explained “well anyone can be abstinent. a lot of people figure out they’re ace because they don’t want to do it. Some people are both ace and abstinent, or celibate. Im kinda neutral about it. Like… I like it but I don’t really seek it out or think about it. But you don’t have to be both.”

And she nodded and said, “oh yeah, I was abstinent for a few years once,” like it clicked for her that she had made a choice and she wasn’t ace, and there was a difference.

And I was like “Yeah! anyone can be celibate or abstinent, but, not everyone who is, is ace.”

And I went on to explain a lot of people figure out they’re ace because they don’t have interest in sex, but that that’s not the case for everyone.

And she said “reminds me my daughter told me all about pansexual, which is more about liking person than other aspects.”

And I said “well, that might be more along the lines of panromantic?”

And she asked what I meant, and I said “well like, some people who are ace might still like people that way, like, romantically, but not always?”

And she nodded and said “yeah, that makes sense.”

So feeling encouraged I explained, “like, some people like to split up romantic and sexual attraction. Like some who are ace might still like people romantically, but not always. And if you don’t have romantic attraction and you’re ace, you’d be aro ace — aromantic asexual.”

And she kinda nodded and said “oh, that’s neat.” and then, when I talked a bit about why it can be nerve wracking yo talk about, she said “I don’t get why people get mad about that stuff. Or people think I’m a lesbian because my best friend is. People just are the way they are.”

And we had a little laugh about how ridiculous homophobia is, and then she had to go, but, that exchange really gave me hope. Just… a random person at least fifteen years my senior who heard a word and immediately was open to learning about it.

I have experienced acephobia from people in medicine and I still have no idea why I just volunteered that I’m ace. I didn’t have to. I just blurted it out before my brain caught up with my mouth. But it turned out okay and now an older lesbian nurse knows asexuality exists. (And aromanticism tho we didn’t get as much time to talk about that.)

I do wish I’d maybe worded some stuff differently or been able to go into more detail, tho the time was limited, but… yeah. Warm heart. There is good in this world Mr Frodo etc etc

to clarify as I got asked about it: she did explicitly state she was a lesbian. This is summarized to the best of my ability from memory.

[crybaby-bkg]

“I’m terrified of trying those hitachi wands,” you offhandedly mention one night in a quiet laugh, while laying in bed beside Bakugou. you’re both on your phones, one last scroll before bed, even though he’s actually playing one of those old people games. he looks over, hair pushed back by a clip he stole from you.

“Why would you be scared?” he asks you, completes the last two moves of the game before he closes his phone and sets it on the table beside the bed. he turns all of his attention on you then, rolling over to his side to face you, and you do the same.

“Because those things are damn near weapons with how they render people useless for like, twenty minutes after they cum.” you snicker, thinking back on the video you had seen earlier in the day. the lady damn near ruined her phone with the wetness, and could hardly move for a good minute after.

Bakugou only stares at you, doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he has this look on his face. he’s thinking about something, but doesn’t open his mouth until he’s whispering,

“That’s crazy,” he kisses your forehead and mumbles an I love you before he rolls over and pulls the covers to his head. you only blink in confusion before you chalk it up to him being the shy little prude he’s always been, and lay down yourself.

the conversation goes forgotten as the weeks pass on, something you don’t dwell on much afterwards. but obviously, it hasn’t passed Bakugou’s mind at all.

“I got it in pink.” he tells you one night after he’s wined and dined you. that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but what was weird was how jittery he had been the entire time. this was why, surely, when he leads you to the bedroom and opens a neat little box with one of those wands you had completely forgotten about sitting prettily in front of you.

“Katsuki!” you laugh, hands covering your mouth before they cover your eyes in a mix of shame and shyness. “Why do you wanna see me laid out and twitching after using that thing?” you softly punch his shoulder, looking between his reddened cheeks and the wand he holds in front of you like an engagement ring.

“It’ll be hot.” he shrugs, mouth twisting this way and that in uncertainty, before he looks at you from under his lashes. “Wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do.” you answer back just as quickly, stripping from your clothes even quicker. it makes Bakugou laugh, taking his shirt off and his pants too, just to be safe in case you become a slash zone.

he tries it first with him sitting between your legs, just holding the wand there. he looks between your legs and then to your eyes, starting on a low setting and watches how you twist and thrive in the silken sheets. and when you cum, he thinks he can push you a little further.

he ups the vibrations, adds two of his fingers inside of you, crooking them until he finds that soft spot inside of you that makes you absolutely sob. you squirt all over him and he wonders if he should take his boxers off too (he doesn’t though; the thought of finding them tomorrow stained in you makes him damn near burst in his pants).

the next position is in front of your mirror on the closet, with your legs spread over his. Bakugou hooks his chin over your shoulder, holds your twitching thighs open as he keeps turning the vibrations up to the highest settings. you’re squirming and whining and whimpering for mercy, even though you cry even more whenever he stops.

the next time and the next time and the next, he’s got more fingers inside of you, his cock, another one of your favorite toys. he sets you in doggy style, even though he doesn’t fuck you, but keeps the wand between your legs. he likes the way your entire body shakes beneath him, collapsing, trapped between his weight and the strong vibrations that send you into another dimension.

the next day, you can barely feel between your legs, shaky and unstable for the whole day. but Bakugou makes up for it; he always does.

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

“How could we end up here..?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

!Reader is implied to be female, but anyone can read this. I apologize if I use she/her pronouns! (so please correct me if you see any mistakes regarding that<3)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

————

You were screwed right from the beginning.

The way everyone acted was so.. strange. But of course, you didn’t think anything of it because you ultimately assumed it was just their quirky personalities. You weren’t taught to make fun of anyone, which was hard knowing that everyone else had the privilege of making fun of you. You just couldn’t do anything back.

You sighed, swallowing your saliva that had built up while you stared at the room’s ceiling. You knew you weren’t a good fit for the job, you knew almost nothing about space.

You felt yourself start to sweat, causing you to lean down, bending your knees as you practically press your face into the small bag you’ve brought with you on this journey. You start fumbling with the bag, searching for the one thing you've ended up forgetting to bring. Deodorant.

“Shit..” You groan weakly, mentally smacking yourself in the face. How did you forget to bring something that important? You sit down crisscrossed on the hard floor beneath you, not prepared to ask anyone for help with your small issue. You had two choices; end up stinking for the rest of the journey, or work up the courage to ask someone else on board for deodorant.

You decided to go with the second option. You really didn’t want to make an impression as someone who’s stupid enough to forget about simple hygiene, but staying stinky would’ve been even worse. You stood up and walked towards your single room’s door, knowing who to go to. Anya. She was the only other female on the whole space freighter. If you went to any of the men, they probably would’ve laughed in your face for how stupid you were acting.

You briefly talked to Anya as you boarded this morning, but you didn’t think you would have to ask her for anything. But she seemed nice enough. You worked up the courage as you walked around, making sure to stay out of anyone’s sight.

You swallowed your saliva once again, weakly knocking on the woman’s door. You didn’t even know if she was in her room or not. You waited a few seconds before you heard a small, “Come in!” from the other side. You could’ve just ran back to your room and locked yourself inside, but you decided to be brave for once and open the door.

“Anya?” You let the door swing open before stepping inside, taking a look at her bedroom. It wasn’t too dirty, but definitely wasn’t neat either. You shrugged it off and glanced in her direction, fidgeting with your fingers while doing so.

She turned towards you, her eye bags clear as day. ‘Maybe she didn’t get a lot of sleep last night..’ In all honesty, you didn’t get much rest either. You were fearing for your life while attempting to pack your bag. She tilted her head, waiting for your question.

“Do you have any deodorant I can borrow?” You whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear your conversation. This was already embarrassing enough, you didn’t need anyone else knowing. She slightly nods, giving you a soft smile as she turned towards her bag and opening the front pocket, taking out a travel-sized bottle of jel deodorant. “You can just keep it, I brought more.” She states.

She turned back towards you and held out her arm, deodorant in hand. In your eyes held a small a glimpse of hope as you took it out of her hand, quickly thanking her before speed walking back to your own room. Shutting the door, you took the cap off the jelly substance and let it roll underneath your arms. You sighed happily, grateful someone was kind enough to lend you a hand.

————

You sit up against the headboard of your bed, staring into space once again. You couldn’t sleep and you were already bored, seeing as all you had to keep you occupied was the job and sleep.

You didn’t really see an effort to make any friends, especially with that Jimmy guy. He seemed stressed out and you didn’t want to make him angry. The captain barely spoke to anyone, which was understandable, so you haven’t see him very often.

Anya seems nice enough, though. She gave you gentle smiles as she passed by you today. You really need to talk to her more. Attempting to talk to Swansea was.. challenging to say the least. He always has that weird expression on his face, which scares you in a way. But you still said your greetings as you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a drink earlier that day.

There was another guy right beside him, too. Daisuke, his name is. He gave you a quick wave before turning back to his boss. You bite your bottom lip, shifting your body to let your head lay against the softness of your pillow and your body rest against the sheets.

You didn’t even know if the sheets were clean, but you were grateful you even got your own bed. Let alone your own room. You lean over and grab the thin tan blanket before covering your body in attempt to shield yourself from the cold. You peak at the digital clock on the bedside table, checking the time.

1:32am

Really..? Your eyes widen a bit in disbelief before you immediately shut your eyes, tussling with the blanket as you try to get into a comfortable position. How dumb could you be to fall asleep this late at night? You need to be up by 6:30.

You snuggled against the sheets, ignoring the pain in your chest. Your face muscles relax as you drift off to sleep, eventually taking you from reality. You felt calm for the first time in a while.. it’s sad it didn’t last very long, though.

You almost scream as you get woken up by a loud bang on your door. You gasp as you sit up right, your hand gripping your chest. Small drips of sweat form from your forehead as you turn your head to the door. “Y/N? Time for breakfast!” Daisuke’s voice echoed from the other side.

Hearing him call for you made a chuckle escape your throat as you rub the sleep away from your eyes. You groan softly, quickly standing up and getting changed into your uniform. It was a bit loose, but you didn’t mind it much. You look in the small mirror on the wall beside the door, making sure you looked at least a little presentable before walking out.

You opened the door and made your way towards where everyone else sat, a soft expression filling your face after only a few steps out of your room. You didn’t know your way around yet, but you ended up in the right path in just a few minutes.

You walked in the room seeing Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke sitting at the lounge table, bowls filled with cereal. You stepped up to them, giving them a short-lived wave before sitting down beside the black haired woman. Swansea looked towards you and started speaking.

“So, how’d your first night go in that godforsaken bed?” He grumbles softly, taking a bite of his breakfast. The brunette haired male seated beside him suddenly pouted, turning his head to look at the older man. “You didn’t ask me that..” He whispered before getting kicked from underneath the table. “Yeah, well, I didn’t care.” Swansea retorted.

You raise a brow but decide not to question it. “I think it went alright. The blanket is a bit thin and the bed feels like it’s made of rocks, but I’ll manage.” You give a not-so-confident nod, taking the cereal box out of Anya’s hands as she held it towards you. Swansea gives you an understanding shrug before going back to his food.

You turned your attention to Daisuke, asking him the same question Swansea asked you. “What about you? Did you sleep well?” You shook the box, pouring the cereal into your bowl. You were informed that the only new recruits in the Tulpar was just you and Daisuke, so you didn’t need to ask Anya or Swansea.

Daisuke looked up from his own dish, his words coming out muffled as he chewed on his cereal. You let your lips curve upwards into a smile as your head nods along, attempting to understand his words. You grabbed the milk and poured it into your breakfast, staring at it in satisfaction as the cereal soaked the white liquid up.

You couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes watching you all from across the room. Naturally, you turned your head to see the dark haired brunette who frowned as he stared directly at you. ‘Jimmy.’ You gulped down your cereal before giving him a smile, attempting to be friendly.

Although you tried to be sympathetic, the expression on his face didn’t change. His arms remained by his sides as he walked towards the four of you. You avoided eye contact, feeling too awkward to continue staring. You go back to eating, careful not to slurp the milk that laid on the spoon.

‘Could’ve been worse..’ You thought, grateful that you weren’t stupid enough to actually call out to the man and say hello. It was obvious he wasn’t in the mood, and you could tell by his facial expression.

“When did everyone wake up?” He asks, breaking the unbearable silence. Swansea raised a brow as everyone turned their head to look up at Jimmy. “Why does it matter? We’re up and ready.” He ignores the question, taking another bite of his breakfast.

You look between the two males, confused why it seems like an argument is about to break out between them. You lift your head up and watch Jimmy’s brows furrow. Anya watches carefully, eyeing him with a fearful gaze. Daisuke continues eating, almost like he was enjoying this.

“You were supposed to be up at 6:30. Anya, what time is it now?” You turn your attention over towards the black haired female, wondering what time it was as well. You thought that Daisuke had woken you up around the time everyone was supposed to be awake at, but you guess you were wrong.

Anya adverts her eyes to the clock that sat on the wall of the kitchen before sighing and turning her head back towards Jimmy. “7:12.” She replied, her voice quiet. It seemed like she was afraid of something, but you didn’t know what. Jimmy nodded before slamming his left hand down onto the table, causing the box of cereal to get knocked over.

You flinch, not understanding why the man was so upset with you all getting up a few minutes after you were supposed to. It didn’t make sense. “That’s right. That means you four got up after the time you were expected to be awake and ready.” Swansea opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t be so upset over us getting up a few minutes after 6:30. I’m pretty sure i was woken up at 6:35!” You argue back, not wanting this to escalate into anything it doesn’t need to be. Jimmy stared down at you like he wanted to kill, making you back off in fear of getting yelled at.

You glanced at Daisuke, wondering if he could help the argument calm down. You were lucky enough to catch his eye. He seemed to know what you were thinking because when he looked up at Jimmy and spoke, his voice was calm.

“You don’t need to get mad at us for a little mistake. Besides, it’s the first day! Chill out, man.” Although Jimmy was clearly upset by his words, Daisuke didn’t back down like you did. You gave him a smile, your eyes filled with gratitude.

He felt your gaze linger on his face, making him turn his head towards you. He gave you a soft smile, appreciative that you’re grateful for his backup.

Maybe this place won’t be as bad as you thought.. as long as you have them around, anyway.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

author’s note

first chapter done!! hopefully this isn’t too bad. I haven’t written fan fiction in a while, so I may be a little rusty. next chapter is already being written, though!

as I’m writing this, half of the second chapter is done, so I’ll get that posted in a few days. bye for now!!<33

(not proofread, but skimmed over.)

[adverbally]

Take Me Where My Future’s Lyin’

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Future” | wc: 731 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: job rejection, hurt/comfort, heavy author projection | title from “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” by John Parr

———

Steve hangs up the phone in a daze. Muscle memory takes over to lay the receiver back in its cradle. His gaze catches on the worn plastic, the kinks disrupting the cord’s neat coil.

“Hey, was that them? What’d they say?” Eddie sticks his head into the kitchen, a smile stretching his mouth wide with excitement.

The exact details of the conversation are already falling out of Steve’s memory, like water through a sieve. Are they even important, as long as the message was clear? “I didn’t get it,” Steve croaks.

Eddie freezes in the doorway. “What?”

He doesn’t think he can get any more words out, not with his throat squeezing like this, but he has to try. Eddie’s looking at him with so much worry, reaching out to comfort Steve without even knowing what happened, and it’s making Steve’s vision swim with tears. “I didn’t get the job. They’re going with someone else.”

“What the hell?!” Eddie protests. “You’ve been teaching there longer than anyone else who applied. You’re practically already the acting department head!”

“I know.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. They’ve been saying that all week, convincing themselves that Steve was the best candidate and he was sure to get the promotion. He had even believed it, after his last interview had gone so well. “I, um. They wanted someone with more leadership experience.”

Eddie’s growl of frustration isn’t directed at him, the logical side of Steve’s brain knows, but it still feels like it is. Probably because Steve is so frustrated with himself. His principal had personally encouraged him to throw his hat in the ring, telling him how proud he was of Steve for taking on extra responsibilities for the department and staying on top of everything despite the chaos of testing season. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough.

“You’re the best teacher in that whole damn school, they’re idiots if they think Linda Smith is going to do a better job than you,” Eddie is ranting indignantly.

Steve barely hears him. He can’t stop replaying the phone call in his mind, how Principal Lane had wanted to tell Steve about his rejection personally, before he could hear it through the grapevine. How he had promised Steve that he would find another way to help him advance, send him to training or some other bullshit professional development to put on his resume. How impressed the whole interview committee had been with his answers and his performance.

Just not impressed enough.

The disappointment sits like a rock in Steve’s gut. He‘ll have to go back to work on Monday, where every other second grade teacher will know that he applied and wasn’t good enough, and he’ll smile and shake Linda’s hand and congratulate her on getting the job he wanted. Hell, he’ll probably even have to help train her.

“Stevie?”

Eddie is blurry when Steve looks up at him, but he can make out enough to see his outstretched arms, waiting to pull Steve into his embrace. When Steve’s face crumples, Eddie is already hugging him close, kissing his temple.

“I know it’s just a job but I really wanted it,” Steve tells Eddie’s collarbone. His shirt smells so good, and he doesn’t want to move away to talk or breathe or let Eddie see him cry.

“I know, baby,” Eddie agrees. He does know; he’s been there for all the excited planning, helping Steve brainstorm ideas for how to spend his impending pay raise, looking at houses for sale and thinking about home improvement projects and creating an itinerary for a trip to visit Robin.

Steve shouldn’t have gotten so invested, no matter how optimistic he’d been about his chances. He had seen their future, with a big house full of kids and a job he was really good at and Eddie, loving him and believing in him, and he’d been ready for it. Now that door has closed and it hurts all the more since he’d gotten his hopes up.

“There will be other jobs,” Eddie murmurs to him. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffs against Eddie’s chest.

“In the meantime, we can have ice cream for dinner and talk shit about Linda.”

Steve’s laugh is wet but sincere. Whatever their future holds, he thinks he can handle it as long as Eddie is still there to figure it out with him.

[cz19y]

MERCHES !? [HCs]

Multiple × Bllk Player!GN!Reader

THEME: You start getting famous in the NEL. You have merches now! How'd they react? Would they buy a keychain? A plushy? Your jersey??

∆ Reader is part of Blue Lock, fluff, SFW, some of them will be extremely short, they have a crush on you, OOC[?], grammar & spelling errors.

[!] reference for plushie at the bottom.

NOTE: This has been sitting on my drafts for half a year now. Finally decided to finish.

∆ FT: Isagi Yoichi, Rin & Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Niko Ikki.

[ Starting … ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ISAGI YOICHI

"Cool/Cute!" First thing he thought about when he saw the plushy.

Def buying the plushy. He also looked into the jersey but dropped the idea cuz he's just shy like that.

Silly keychain hanging from his wallet.

Gets all awkward when someone teases him(Reo + CHIGIRI).

“You got [L/n]’s merches? Can I tell them??!” Bachira was so excited to tell you.

“No.”

Anyways,

Gets all awkward next time talking to you but pretends it's ok. (It's not ok)

Loves the fact that you're having somewhat of the attention you deserve for being the great player you are.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ RIN ITOSHI

You really think he's buying it? What a joke.

He is.

Just because you annoyed him to do so, of course.

Just the keychain tho. The idea of a jersey would "decrease" his ego and he thinks that the plushie is a waste of space.

Jokes, he bought the plushie.

Almost died on spot when you mentioned that you saw the plushie on his bed.

BUT he’ll kill you if you mention it to others.

Has the keychain on his keys.

When waiting for a bus or something, he fidgets with it.

Likes to start a staring contest with the plushie.

AGHhH ok but he's so cute.

Since you're “important or whatever”(his words, not mine), I'm imagining him taking good care of the plushie.

Ok but he def drowled on that plushie.

Blushes if you ever buy his merches. Like in the Sae scene after the U20; eyes shining and all.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SAE ITOSHI

Debated if it was worth it or not.

He means, how lukewarm..

But those keychains are adorable, no?

Yeah, why not.

Keychain hanging out from his phone.

Fidgets with it too.

Ignores his teammates if they ever mention it and glares at them if they push it.

Will not tolerate Shidou.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ MICHAEL KAISER

Bought the plushie to annoy you. That's one of the main reasons why he bought it.

The other reason is because he actually wanted one.

Has it sitting near the mirror.

Poses and talk to that thing like it's actually someone.

Unboxing time was def something. Smug smile with brows acherd, inspecting the mini version and humming in approval.

Ness doesn't know how to feel about this.

NOT buying the jersey. You're a good player too, his pride is gigantic and would NEVER betray himself.

He may be pinning on ya but that's different.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ALEXIS NESS

Bro's smile got even happier when he got the plushie[HE'S SUCH A CUTIE STOP].

Has a jersey somewhere in his closet.

Shy about it.

Keeps everything clean and neat.

Finds it so cute, he absolutely loves the plushie.

Keychain keychain keychain-

Inner child coming alive once more.

Unboxing with ultimate happiness.

Loves you and all but would prefer if you don't know about it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SHIDOU RYUSEI

The moment he heard about it, you can bet he was already ordering it.

Keychain, plushy, or jersey?... huhh.. Nah, he's buying it all.

But his favorite is the jersey.

Would start wearing it as a joke, but then it becomes part of his weekly clothing.

Shidou ordered a GG size plushy and named it "[Lame Nickname]".

Ordered a small size plushy too, and named it "[Lame Nickname Jr. The II]".

Will talk to it like it's an actual conversation when bored or when he wants to get something out of his mind and there's no one around for him to pester.

Not shy about it.

Brags, even.

Makes your and his plushie kiss in front of the whole team hahaha-

Sometimes you're worried about the plushie’s safety.

Bros 100% pleading forcing you to buy his merches so you two can match.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ NIKO IKKI

Got too embarrassed when buying.

I can picture him with his neutral ass face unboxing the plushy but inside; he's jumping and giggling while he stares at the eyes of the small goofy mini version of you.

Gets quiet the next time he sees you.

Gets embarrassed when spots the plushie looking directly at him.

*Cutely goes and move its head to another direction* /j

He’s an anime fan; probably and will make a secret collection of those merches.

Plushie sitting at the top spot of his shelf among the mangas or anime merches he has.

Will delete himself if you ever mention it.

If ever hanging out at his place, expect having to wait for some minutes outside his room because he's trying to find a good spot to hide it.

Bro has pride to keep, give him some time.

Lmao. Feels bad whenever the plushie falls off his bed and pets it to make up for it(just like me fr).

[!] Plushie Ref

They're so cute.

[smelt-starverse]

On the Amphibia Timeskip Designs

Hi! I know I normally don't do analysis posts like these, but I got into an interesting conversation (read: infodumped hard to a couple of unsuspecting friends) about the subject on Discord earlier and I felt like it might be enjoyed by you all. Anyways, to begin...

I think the best place to start is Marcy. The thing that jumps out to me about her new design the most to me is her color scheme.

Across the board, everything is brighter and more saturated. Her dark blue coat has been swapped for a bright blue jacket, her dull green skirt has been traded for some vibrant green pants, her shirt has gone from a light gray to an off-white, and her debatably brown boots have been replaced with light brown, almost orange shoes.

Through the entire series, her hair is neat, properly combed (when not messed up by water or helmet-hair, anyways), and it's got this layer of gloss to it. It's a pretty innocuous set of details...

...but I think the picture comes together better when we compare it to her hair in the finale. It's less neat, it's messy in places, but it's not greasy anymore. It's not constrained at all, it's healthy and doing its own thing. And I think, in a way, that applies to her outfit as a whole. Throughout the "present" of Amphibia, Marcy is nearly always wearing a uniform of some kind; her school uniform, the Newtopian Night Guard uniform, the Core's greaves, it's always a look forced on her. In the finale, though, she finally gets to make her own decision on what to wear. It's casual, but it's her, emphasized by the personal touches like the pins on her jacket and the figures on her bag that expand out from little expressions of freedom on her original design. She's even got ear piercings, something typically associated with rebellion and freedom. She's finally allowed to be her own person. Not anybody else's, just... herself.

My thoughts on Sasha and Anne are a bit less in-depth, but there's definitely interesting stuff to mention regardless.

It might not seem like Sasha's changed much visually during the timeskip. Her hair is cut pretty much the same way, she still has a pink accessory on her head, she's still wearing a skirt and a jacket (like she did over her school uniform), and... I think that's intentional. It's a subtle sign that most of Sasha's growth wasn't off-screen during a ten-year time jump...

...it was during Season 3. With every redesign she got from her Barrel's Warhammer redesign onwards, her design got softer. Less spikes, more rounded edges, less rigidity. She even undid her ponytail, not holding her hair back anymore. Her reds got less area on her design, until on the timeskip look they were pretty much replaced entirely with a simple purple skirt. All that aggressiveness is gone, replaced with a comparatively soft design...

...and with the addition of a blue shirt to her color palette. It comes off as a little random, but considering her new profession as a therapist, I think a light and soft color palette featuring hues that are easy on the eyes is an important part of that. It's subtle, but I think it helps a lot.

And finally... Anne.

I find Anne's timeskip design to be the most difficult to talk about in this context, because it's mostly just a regular uniform. The green polo, beige shorts, white undershirt, and lanyard are just what she has to wear to work, and I find it a little difficult to find meaning from it... but that doesn't mean there's nothing there.

Let's get the obvious one out of the way. The leaf scrunchy is a cute way to call back to Anne's hair leaves, a pretty defining aspect of her original design dating all the way back to the first episode of the show that followed her all through her journey in Amphibia. It's a fun little way to reminisce on her past... but it's not the only part of her outfit dedicated to reminiscing.

That little blue flower band on her wrist is also easy to miss, but pretty obvious what it's referencing once you notice it.

It's most obviously a callback to the blue flower crown from earlier in the same episode, but Anne's almost always been associated with blue and flowers, with even her energy aura in her Calamity form taking the shape of blue flower petals.

But those are just simple callbacks. I think the two things that tell us the most about Anne's growth and who she is now... are these.

For her entire exodus in Amphibia, Anne's had one ragged shoe to keep her company. She wasn't ready for an adventure in the swamp. Now, she has proper rain boots, something designed to actually withstand the kind of work she does now. She's fully become comfortable with where she is and who she wants to be. And, of course, there's that little bandage on her leg. Perhaps it's a sign that she's still going out there, undergoing little adventures, taking risks and getting into trouble. Maybe it's a sign that that spirit we come to know so well over the course of the show is still alive and well... or maybe it's where she takes her estrogen shots

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Since the mission in Tokyo, you wanted Tangerine out of your life as soon as possible. Instead, he stormed back in to save you from yourself.

Genre: Fluff, Enemies To Lovers <3

Warnings: excessive amount of swearing, sexual themes, canon like violence, mentions of violence, blood, career sexism

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

You were only supposed to snatch a stupid briefcase for your friend, Carver. Instead, your trip ended with a crushed up train, three concussions, one broken arm, multiple bruised egos, and a whole lot of unrequested fun facts about Thomas The Tank Engine.

Oh, and a man you were convinced wanted to become your mortal enemy.

You had heard about the infamous Twins in passing — the Bolivia case mostly — and you never questioned anyone when they assured you they were professionals. At least not until you saw them fuck up more than once in one evening.

You liked Lemon. He was a decent guy, a smart assassin, and he made you laugh with his corny obsession with a children's show.

His brother however — what a fucking asshole!

Tangerine had came in strong with an attitude. He was just eye roll here, sucker punch there, and whine, whine, whine. He also had the worst timing, somehow always running into you whenever you were trying (and failing) to do your fucking job.

He seemed just as irritated by you as you were by him, however it was obvious he loved having you at his mercy: wether that was stuck pressed between the train and his arms, with his gun lodged into your throat, or hearing you say "please" and "thank you" when he swooped in like a devilish knight and saved you from a deadly bullet to the stomach.

Still, you couldn't leave Tangerine's deranged ass quicker once the nightmare that had been that mission was finally over.

You really didn't think you'd see the twins again — certainly not at the same club where you were supposed to carry out your, rather simple, information extraction mission but when you do, your eyes narrow.

Lemon looks mostly casual. His dyed platinum hair is curled around his face as he leans his arm around the booth he's sitting in, casually conversing with another man you don't know.

Standing next to the booth, Tangerine looks even less casual. He's wearing his all too familiar dark blue blazer. His hair and mustache are just as neat as they had been on the train that evening and you smirk. He has a lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he occasionally takes it out and obnoxiously blows smoke into the air.

He looks infuriatingly good.

You cross your arms, watching them from across the room. You look around. Your target hadn't made an appearance yet and in the meantime you'd had to turn down many desperate and drunk men swarming you for your attention.

"Fancy seeing you here, luv." You smirk, hearing his voice, hoarse and velvety, near your ear. He'd found you quickly. Seems like he has a talent for that and you wonder if he'd somehow planted a tracker on you.

"Stalking me now, Orange?" You ask, not even bothering to turn around as you lean on the bar counter and start to intentionally swirl your drink around the glass.

"Tangerine." He corrects.

You turn this time. Your eyes meet his chest and they start to slowly move up until you can look at him in his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes, "Potayto, potahto." You say, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, aren't ya as chirpy as ever, Poppy." Tangerine snarls. Your lips curl hearing the code name you'd used on that train. You've been using it ever since.

You look around seeing your target walk into a small room in the corner of the club. You run a hand in your hair, smack your lips together, and glance nonchalantly at Tangerine. You send him a sweet smile, "Well, Clementine, I always enjoy our little chats but I'm quite busy and don't have time for your potty-mouth right now." You turn away from him.

He catches your arm, "I really wouldn't follow im in there if I were ya, darlin" He warns seriously. You turn around, skeptical, but listen to him anyway.

"Why is that?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Because, luv," Tangerine smirks as he firmly holds your shoulders and turns you both around. Nonchalantly, he gestures towards the door to the little room the man walked into, "That bastard hired Lemon and I to kill ya."

You tense, "What?" You spin around, heart pounding.

"Ya seriously din't think you'd been asked to be a fucking honeypot without any exterior motives?" You feel insulted until Tangerine continues, “You're an assassin, darlin', and a pretty damn fucking good one. Having you as a honeypot is a crime in itself." You realize it's the first time Tangerine has complimented you and he's looking at you with an unusually concerned expression.

"So, what are you waiting for?" You blink, completely serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Kill me." You say calmly, "Since when do you and Lemon not finish a job?"

The brunet looks at you like you've gone completely insane (which maybe you have) and then laughs, "Ya want me to kill ya, doll?" Tangerine genuinely looks like he's just heard the funniest thing in his life. However, his eyes narrow darkly and his hands curl harshly around your arm, "Fine."

Sure, you know Tangerine had been ruthless on that train but you'd also been extremely aware that he'd intentionally missed opportunities he had to kill or badly wound you. So, when he yanks you into the men's bathroom, you panic.

You pull against his arm and push against chest as you try to take out the small knife you always cram inside your boot, but Tangerine is too quick. Your body is suddenly thrown across the bathroom like you're nothing and you crash into the mirror, ribs hitting the sink. You stare at him, eyes fluttering from the pain as you sway on your feet and clutch your side.

Tangerine looks completely unfazed as he struts over to you and then grabs your chin between his fingers so forcefully you unintentionally whimper, "Where's the assassin I met on the train, huh?" He asks, his voice smooth, "Haven't given up so easily, have ya, darlin'?"

You stare at him. He's taunting you. He wants you to fight him. Quickly, you knee him in the groin and side kick him to the ground. He stumbles a little but recovers from the hit. A sensible voice in your head screams at you to run but instead you pull Tangerine up by the collar of his expensive suit and body slam him against the wall, your forearm crushing his throat.

When you look at him, Tangerine is smirking cockily, "Atta' girl." He croaks.

You realize a little too late that the only reason you managed to pin Tangerine to the wall was because he was letting you. The moment he resists, you're the one easily pinned as one of his hands presses your wrists above your head.

Time suddenly feels unimportant as you look into his eyes. “Am I in danger?" You whisper, breathlessly.

Tangerine's stoic expression falters a little and he drops your arms and looks around the bathroom. He turns back to you, running a hand in his hair. “Yes." Your heart leaps, “Lemon and I mean you no harm, but someone else wants you dead, Poppy."

His hand slides down your back as he leads you outside of the bathroom and back into the busy noise of the club. You catch his arm as he walks in front of you, "Tangerine, wait," You say, voice raspy. You watch him turn around. His hair is messy from his hand and he's looking at you like he's never heard you say his name before.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you want to ask him to stay. A little part of you wants him to stay so he can take care of you. Only, you can't ask him that. You've looked after yourself and you've long accepted that that's how it would always be.

"What?" Tangerine frowns, wearing an irritatingly handsome expression for someone that looks so confused and, frankly, a little annoyed.

You frown and, as hard as you can, slap him across the face. From his profile, you can see a dark glimmer appear in his eyes and his jaw tightens. He doesn't react as he slowly looks at you again, and then he can't because you're kissing him.

You bury your nails into his cheeks as he wastes no time to grip your hips with his hands. You kiss him passionately and clumsily — like you've never kissed anyone before but somehow when his lips move against yours it still feels flawless.

"Fuck," Tangerine groans when you bite his lower lip and smile proudly.

He pulls you closer to him and his hand comes up to hold your neck as his fingers bury themselves in your hair. He jerks your head backwards painfully but you groan in approval. Tangerine begins to suck on the skin of your neck like he's been starved of you for years.

You don't want him to pull away when you feel him move so you chase his lips. He chuckles, his voice low, and cups your cheeks in his hands as he looks at you. His eyes are weirdly affectionate for a man who's a cold blooded killer.

"Are you going to turn me in?" You ask him, your face still in his hands.

"What didn't ya understand when I told ya Lemon and I won't cause you any harm?" He rolls his eyes, gently patting your cheek. Slowly, as if savoring the touch of your skin, he slides his hands down your arms and then intertwines your fingers with his, "Come on, we're leaving."

You let him lead you through the sweaty bodies of the dancing crowd until you reach the booth where Lemon sits. He sees his brother and then his eyes flicker to your hands and the corner of his lips curl, "I see you found er," Lemon waves at you.

"Bugger off," Tangerine snarls, hearing something in Lemon's voice that you hadn't, "And get off your fucking arse, Lemon," He adds, "I don't wanna deal with that bloody bastard when he realizes we aren't killing er. I don't want his filth on my suit. I like this suit."

Tangerine lets your hand go to adjust his collar. You cross your arms and look around the club. Accidentally, you make eye contact with someone and your entire body freezes.

He sees you before you can look away. Quickly, you turn to Lemon and Tangerine, who haven't stopped bickering, and slap Tangerine's chest to get his attention. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, "Hate to break up the love-fest boys, but I think our little friend just realized you lads plan on keeping me fucking breathing." You hiss.

"Bloody fucker." Tangerine whispers, his eyes glued on the man approaching you all as Lemon stands. Lemon pulls out his gun and unlocks it with a click. You bend over to take the knife from inside your boot but the moment you have it in your hands, Tangerine snatches it from you and replaces it with his gun.

"I don't want this," You deadpan.

"Don't argue." He squints at you and twirls your knife in his hand.

Ignoring him, you reach for your weapon anyway, "I like my knife, thanks."

Tangerine tuts and holds it above his head, smirking, "Guns are safer, luv." He patronizes.

"Misogynist asshole." You grumble, earning a frown from him.

"Mates, now ain't the time." Lemon interrupts sternly. You look behind him and see that the man who'd hired you to kill him, just for him to kill you, has a few other bulky looking buddies with him and they're much closer than they were earlier.

Without hesitation and because Tangerine is distracted, you manage to jump up and take the knife from his hand. You then proceed to meticulously launch it past the swarm of dancing bodies. With a smoosh it lands smack in the middle of one the men's head and the sound of his body hitting the ground causes a mass panic.

"Fucking brilliant," Tangerine scolds, looking annoyed, "Now ya lost the fucking knife." His hand wraps around your forearm and he whispers in your ear, "And I ain't misogynistic, sweetheart, I just don’t wanna see ya hurt," He admits.

He starts to pull you away but you wiggle out of his grip, "Poppy!" He shouts as you sprint towards the men.

Fuck this, you think, if those motherfuckers want you dead then you won't wait around for them to kill you – you'll kill them first.

You take the man closest to you in a scissor leg takedown, slamming him onto the ground. You snatch your knife from the dead man's head as he lays not far from you and slit the throat of the man you're pinning to the ground. You spin your head around and throw Tangerine his gun. Quickly, he unlocks it and, with Lemon, starts shooting past the innocent civilians and manages to fatally hit a few of the men.

You make your way to the leader and front kick him in the hand so he drops his gun. When he does, you try and bend over to retrieve it from where it fell only the man manages to punch you in the jaw. You stumble over, tears pricking your eyes from the pain, but stand up anyways. "Who the fuck are you?" You demand, returning a punch that the man easily avoids. He backhand slaps you so hard you groan. You fall onto your knees and your knife slides out your hands and across the floor.

"You don't remember me?" The man asks with a snarl, his Irish accent thick.

"No." You hiss, crawling to reach your knife. Only, the man kicks you in the stomach and you can't help the scream that leaves your lips.

You blink, cheeks and palms pressed to the floor as you helplessly watch Tangerine and Lemon in action. There had been more men then you'd anticipated and while the Twins can certainly assert themselves in combat, they're far too concerned with defending themselves to help you.

You feel a hand grip your hair and the man harshly turns you around so he's straddling your hips. He presses your knife against your neck and smiles at you. He's young, clean-shaven, and has moles sprinkled across his cheeks like small freckles. You stare at him only to have him spit in your face. Shutting your eyes, you snap, "What the fuck?" and struggle against him.

"You took everything from me, Y/n." He growls and your heart leaps. He knows your name.

"I don't even know who you are!" You try to buck your hips so he falls but he's too strong.

"You stole my job. The hit on the Senator and his family a few months ago, remember them?" You nod, "Well it was mine and you swooped in and took it from me. My reputation, gone in seconds because of some inexperienced, useless, brat." He rants like a madman and presses the knife harder until it strains crimson.

"Everyone steals jobs, it happens." You explain, voice hoarse.

"And yet you couldn't even finish it."

You can barely breathe anymore. "I couldn't kill the child." You explain.

"I know. I did, and yet you still took all the fucking credit," He smirks and lifts his arm. "You ruined my reputation – everyone said I was beaten to the task by a fucking girl – and now you're gonna pay." You squeeze your eyes shut.

Instead of the pain from the knife you hear one gunshot and suddenly the man collapses onto you. Instantly, you sit up and shove him away. Your head snaps up, eyes wide, to see whoever just shot him.

Tangerine stands over you, tucking his gun back into his pants behind him. There's blood splattered across his cheeks but you don't think it's his. He grins, "Now he's a fucking misogynistic bastard." He holds out his hand and helps you stand, "Ya ok, luv?"

You nod slowly and look around the club. There are bodies everywhere. Lemon stands in the center, cleaning his gun and he tilts his head at you, "We should skedaddle before the coppers come." He points out.

You nod again and let Tangerine and Lemon walk you out and into their car.

* * *

The Twins house is as you would have imagined. It's basically a mansion and just as polarized as they are. All the rooms Tangerine touches are neat and fancy, while whatever is Lemons has more of a messy, boyish, charm.

You're sitting on the kitchen counter as Tangerine presses alcohol to your neck as he cleans your wound. He's uncharacteristically gentle with you,

"So, what did that wanker want with you anyway?" He asks, not looking into your eyes.

You grimace, "I stole his hit, apparently."

Tangerine raises his brow, "And he wanted to kill you because of it?"

"I also took his credit for killing the Senator's four year old son," You sigh, "When in reality, I couldn't bring myself to harm the little boy." You feel pathetic in front of Tangerine, who is silent for a moment until he says,

"I wouldn't have killed him either."

You look up at him, "Really?"

He looks you in the eyes, "Really. I don't harm kids." He pauses and then moves some hair away from your face so he can clean some more scratches you have on your skin, "Why'd ya take credit for the kill?"

"I didn't want to seem weak in front of my employer. He already trusts men more than women." Your sentence dies and you look away, "This is a male dominated business, you know? Like most careers, us women have to survive somehow." You bury your head in your hands, "I know it's dishonest but the only reason I got that job on the bullet train was because I earned a little reputation from the Senator hit."

Tangerine suddenly laughs and it makes you turn your head towards him again, "What?"

"I understand, luv. Ya don't need to explain yourself."

"You do?"

He kisses your forehead quickly, "Mmhm."

You feel weirdly fuzzy with his lips on your skin and you remember your previous kiss. You aren't sure if you should mention it, or simply pretend it had never happened. Tangerine pulls away from your skin, but his finger slips under your chin and tilts your head to look at him. His eyes jump from yours, then down to your lips, and you hold your breath.

When he kisses you, you know there is no need for talk anymore.

"Should have known you had a soft spot for me." You say anyway, smirking into his lips.

Tangerine frowns, "What's that, sugar?"

"You're secretly a softie, aren't you?" You tease him with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, his frown deepens and he warns, "You're startin' to get on my nerves, sweetheart. Continue like this and next time, I'll leave ya to defend yourself from that arsehole."

You fake hurt, dramatically crossing your hands over your heart, and flutter your eyelashes at him, "You wouldn't, Tan."

"Nah," Lemon interrupts the banter, entering the kitchen with his pink boxers and his mouth full of mint toothpaste, "He couldn't leave ya, Poppy. You're all he ever talks about."

"Shove one up your arse, Lemon." Tangerine hisses, eyes narrowing at his brother.

"You dug your own grave, mate, lay in it." Lemon dismisses him with his hand, "G'night." He smiles at you and spits in the skin. Tangerine watches Lemon walk out of the room. His face is deformed into an annoyed expression,and the moment Lemon shuts the door behind him, Tangerine looks at you.

"Zip it." He demands. He taps your upper thigh as an indication for you to jump off the counter. When you do, his hands linger on your waist, "Come on, you're up way past your bedtime, luv." He smirks at his own joke as he leads you out the kitchen and down the hallway.

Tangerine's room smells like him and is cleaner than your entire apartment. You walk to the queen-sized bed and marvel at how comfortable it is when you sit on it. "Here," Tangerine says nonchalantly and hands you one of his shirts. He turns around, making sure you have your privacy, as he starts to unravel his blue-tie.

You don't protest as you step out of your dress and throw his shirt over your head. You feel out of place when Tangerine turns back around and looks you up and down. He raises one eyebrow, "Well?"

"Well what?" You ask, confused.

"Get into the bloody bed, Poppy." He says harshly.

"What? Where are you sleeping?"

Tangerine runs a hand in his hair, "In the living room."

"Bullshit. You can sleep in your own bed, I’ll sleep on the couch." You pause, eyes scrunching, "Or I- I'll juts go home."

Tangerine smirks, "In my shirt?" He motions to your dress on the ground and you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Just shut up and listen to me for once." He says.

"Then you stay too. There is enough room," You reason as you walk to one side and dramatically pull down the covers. You stare at him with wide eyes and pat the mattress, "You aren't afraid to sleep with a woman, are you now?" You tease.

Tangerine's cheeks flame and he grumbles something under his breath but he’s shedding his blazer. You avert your gaze and climb under the covers.

Your back is turned to Tangerine as you hold your breath, eyes bouncing around the room. Then, the light switches off, the bed dips and suddenly you feel warmth next to you.

"Tan?" You whisper into the darkness after a moment.

You hear him shift in the bed and then a small hum to tell you he' listening, "Poppet," He mutters and your lips curl upwards.

"Thank you.”

Silence.

"While I do appreciate the gratitude, why ya thanking me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Thank you for not killing me, and saving my ass, and of course letting me stay here — with you and your brother — " Your chest feels lighter and your eyelids start to feel sleepy. You feel Tangerine shift in the bed again and suddenly his arm is around your waist.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver as Tangerine pulls you into him until you're curled up against his chest. You let out a shaky breath when you feel his cheek rest near yours, "Shhh, sleep now, luv. We'll leave the thank yous for tomorrow, hmm?" His voice is uncharacteristically sweet.

You hum in approval and let your eyes flutter shut. You start to drift in and out of sleep but you're almost certain you hear Tangerine mutter, "I'd never let anything bad happen to ya, Poppy. I promise, you're safe with me," just before you fall into the most relaxing sleep you know you'll ever have.