#when stories you care about aren't told well it just sucks

[godofsmallthings]

i just remembered i'm going to have to listen to the hunger games songs on the radio again 😔

[keravnous]

desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

[leclerc-s]

reluctant parents

series masterlist

penelopetrevino posted new stories

he said, 'amor, i have a surprise for you.' i'm patiently waiting to see what it is. update: the surprise is just lando... again 🙄

penelope trevino quick, when someone says, 'i have surprise for you' what does one normally think?

rowan todd well, last time pierre told me that we got a dog, so a dog.

natalia ruiz a dog, charlie did the same thing.

zoya torres well he said 'we have a problem' and it was his parents, whom i was meeting for the first time ever.

mick schumacher considering i told freya 'i did a thing' and i had gotten angie, i'd think a dog.

daniel jones-ricciardo i got a cat the last time she said that.

daphne jones-ricciardo i got a heart attack because it was followed by the words 'i got in an accident'

penelope trevino I TOLD YOU TWO!!

lando norris but aren't i a nice surprise? penelope trevino you have a girlfriend, spend time with her for the love of god. bailey winters he just tells me to spend time with max and p so he can spend time with his boyfriend.

carlos sainz but amor, you love lando!

mae jones-verstappen praying carlos sainz lives to see another day.

isabella perez he may have survived appendicitis but he will not survive pissing off penny.

pato o'ward he's about to learn that you never piss off a mexican woman. dulce perez rip carlos sainz, you would've hated to see max win another gp

gael perez rip carlos sainz, oscar can finally let out a sigh of relief

oscar piastri why am i always getting involved in shit?

lewis hamilton does carlos hate oscar because lando loves oscar and carlos wishes that was him?

fernando alonso he wants that mclaren seat back sebastian vettel you two are the biggest instigators in this group chat. fernando alonso it's a talent

rhys jones it's like watching a tennis match but only one cares and the other doesn't

penelope trevino BACK TO MY PROBLEM PEOPLE!

lance stroll carlos has attachment issues and lando imprinted on him like a baby duck.

pierre gasly alternative: carlos and lando have been cheating on their girlfriends with each other.

bailey winters i hate that i can actually believe that. penelope trevino why is that actually believable?

carlos sainz we are not that bad.

zoya torres if trevor noah can make a joke about lando looking like more of a couple with his former teammate (carlos) than his own girlfriend (bailey) it's bad.

lando norris we may have a problem.

penelope trevino you think?

penelopetrevino and landonorris have posted new stories

he's crashing another date. i could probably hurt him. i may be smiling but i need a bottle of patron to get me through the day. she's going to kill me. mclaren you know who to blame when i mysteriously die

penelope trevino quick, say something so i won't kill lando.

rowan todd you'll go to jail?

penelope trevino not good enough

isabella perez jesus will never let you forget this.

penelope trevino we're getting there.

zoya torres you'll never be able to see little jewel again?

penelope trevino thank you for that reminder zoya.

bailey winters i can call his mom for you? that's what i tend to do when he pisses me off or i call ria and she reminds him that i wrote a heartbreaking album about him.

bailey winters and if none of that works i call max, who laughs in his face for hours on end.

daphne jones-ricciardo or you could talk to them, like normal people

penelope trevino you think i haven't tried that yet? it's impossible to get through to them daph!

dulce perez they're like his work parents, he needs them around 24/7

isabella perez personally, i wouldn't let this slide.

mae jones-verstappen throw him into the slammer!!

natalia ruiz all of you guys have third wheels that suck. i love my third wheel.

penelope trevino not all of us can have a joris natalia!

natalia ruiz at least it's lando and not like pierre, who would be an annoying third wheel.

rowan todd okay, that's my boyfriend nat.

natalia ruiz you cannot be publicly defending a man who makes 🐶 jokes or calls himself tripod

bailey winters EMBARRASSING!!

rowan todd your boyfriend would rather spend time third wheeling his best friend than spend time with you.

bailey winters

rowan todd never make fun of me again bailey.

mae jones-verstappen she was obviously starving

isabella perez somewhere on the coast.

rowan todd you two are comedians.

daphne jones-ricciardo i see now why this group chats is named what it is.

daphne jones-ricciardo you're all fucked in the head.

natalia ruiz daphne's never one to reply but she always roasts the shit out of us.

penelope trevino i'm just resigned to the fact that lando is never going anywhere.

penelope trevino he is my sea urchin.

daphne jones-ricciardo this is why lando always crashes your dates.

dulce perez it's an irrational fear daph!!

daphne jones-ricciardo NO THE FUCK IT ISN'T!!

zoya torres so many problems so little time to digest it all.

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, lando.jpg and others

penelopetrevino photo dump but half of it is me with a beer (my only company because carlos always ditches me for lando) and the other half is carlos with his true love (lando)

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

view all comments

landonorris i am his true love, glad to see you finally admitting it

↳ penelopetrevino go spend time with your own girlfriend. rowan's roasting her in the groupchat.

↳ pierregasly WHAT GROUP CHAT?

↳ isabellaperez ABORT MISSION!! THEY CAN'T KNOW!!

↳ alex_albon FAKE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!!

user26 i would rather die than let this happen to me.

↳ user60 what makes you think penelope has a choice in the matter?

↳ user26 that's very true

user89 those texts from lando are foul!!

baileywinters i say we dump them and date each other instead.

↳ penelopetrevino now that's a good idea.

↳ landonorris hold up what?

↳ carlossainz55 no.

user02 and when these two get married is lando going to interrupt the wedding for shits and giggles?

↳ landonorris that's actually not a bad idea.

↳ penelopetrevino you pull that shit on my wedding day and i'll hurt you.

patriciooward personally i would run him over with my car but that's just me.

↳ landonorris STOP GIVING HER IDEAS!

baileywinters contrary to popular belief, we do actually spend time together.

↳ user57 i would've thrown hands if norizz was neglecting his relationship to crash carlos' dates

↳ landonorris why am i always getting threatened with violence?

↳ isabellaperez because you pull shit like this.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! and it's another late night update!!! woooo!!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[imdead770]

omg love the idea of steve x childhood friend reader!! could you do that for soda too

Sodapop Curtis x Reader - Childhood Friends

Authors Note - Slowly (but surely) getting back into writing. Fingers crossed I don't have another words aren't wording era. Enjoy!

▪︎ Dear, darling Sodapop

▪︎ I know exactly how you met Sodapop

▪︎ I'm third grade, you got paired up with him for some art project

▪︎ And he sucked ass

▪︎ This kid couldn't do anything

▪︎ He can barely read, his hand writing sucks, he can't color inside the lines

▪︎ But for some reason you liked him enough to stick with him all these years

▪︎ Maybe it was how he apologized at least 50 times that you were carrying the project

▪︎ Or maybe it was how he'd still try his hardest to comprehend the big words on the instructions

▪︎ One of the big words including 'instructions'

▪︎ I personally believe Sodapops dyslexic, you can disagree, go for it

▪︎ But the moment he realized he wanted to stick with you was that project

▪︎ How patient you were with him

▪︎ How you helped him read the instructions

▪︎ How you whispered in his ear whenever he forgot half the words to his presentation

▪︎ He didn't really know what love was, he was a kid

▪︎ But looking back on it, that's the moment he fell

▪︎ Fast forward a few years, middle school.

▪︎ I think around 7th grade Sodapop realized just how hot he was

▪︎ He could've pulled a sophomore if he wanted to

"Ya' see that! She was lookin' at me!"

"Every girl looks at you, Soda, it ain't a big deal."

▪︎ You two still did a lot of projects together

▪︎ Normally you did the work

▪︎ But hey, he was good emotional support

▪︎ Eigth grade

▪︎ Somehow both of you managed to have glow ups the exact same year

▪︎ With his jawline being as sharp as Micheal Myer's knife

▪︎ And your body doing its weird maturing thing

▪︎ Which didn't go unnoticed by Sodapop, by the way

▪︎ He fell for you all over again, only this time he had hormones and you had a body that could kill

▪︎ You hung out around the gang a lot

▪︎ Dallas flirted with you a lot

▪︎ Everytime Soda would butt in

▪︎ Everytime the gang teased him about it when you left

"Ya' like 'em."

"What? Na'"

"So can I date 'em?"

"I'll kill ya'"

"Told ya', likes 'em. Gimme that 10, Two."

"Aw, fuc-"

▪︎ Whenever Soda dropped out of high-school he was all freaked out your friendship would end

▪︎ He thought you'd stick with your school friends

▪︎ Instead you two just got closer

▪︎ You'd catch him up on what drama he was missing while he told you stories from DX

▪︎ It was a daily tradition

▪︎ If you were swamped with homework he wouldn't even try

▪︎ He'd still talk until his lips hurt though

▪︎ YOU COMFORTED HIM AFTER SANDY

▪︎ He came over to your place, all quiet and teary eyed

▪︎ That was the second time he cried in front of you

▪︎ The first being the time a bunch of socs picked on him in 6th grade

▪︎ Anyways

▪︎ Eventually the gang got fed up

▪︎ He was well over Sandy

▪︎ He was head over heels for you

▪︎ You went of your way to see him

▪︎ I think someone bet that Steve couldn't get Soda to date you

▪︎ And Steve went all out

▪︎ He practically threatened Soda

▪︎ Soda did it on his own but Steve takes credit

▪︎ He asked you on one of your catch up nights

"So, remember that sophomore gi-"

"I like ya'."

"What."

▪︎ You just sat there for a second, completely awestruck

▪︎ You were gonna say that sophomore girl that liked him got knocked up

▪︎ But that was pushed into the shadows of your brain

"Uh.. I like you too."

▪︎ This man smiled

▪︎ Like pure

▪︎ '😀'

▪︎ He didn't really know how to express emotions after Sandy

▪︎ So he just kissed you

▪︎ Flat out, lips on lips, kissed you

▪︎ After you pulled away he hugged you, smiling into your neck

▪︎ And you were smiling right back

▪︎ Not that he could see it, but still

▪︎ Took a second and ran to tell the gang

▪︎ They all either

A) Flipped out

Or

B) Expected it and didn't care

▪︎ Either way he was jumping up and down

▪︎ Dallas had to tell him at least 10 times to shut up about you

▪︎ He didn't let you go home

▪︎ Cuz like, he was your boyfriend now, he had to be within 10 feet of you

▪︎ After you two started dating he held your hand every single day

▪︎ Cuz like, he's waited over 5 years for this moment

▪︎ Other then the PDA and dates, nothing changes

▪︎ Yay

[pickles4nickles]

Pickles Played Persona 5 Tactica and Has Some Words

I finally finished Tactica and its DLC sans some challenge stuff and I do wanna do some cleanup, but I thought I'd write a review for it.

It's long (like, 3k words long) and there's spoilers and overall... it's an Okay(tm) game, but... here, just lemme talk about it a bunch:

Alright, I'm not gonna mince words.

Persona 5 Tactica is not a game I can reccomend to anyone.

But is it a bad game?

Well, no.

But I have no idea who it's for.

Maybe it's for people who want more of the P5 characters? Not exactly? Both stories' focal points are on new characters and the Phantom Thieves just kinda happen to be there. There are some nice interactions, but this isn't a story about the PTs like Strikers.

Is it for people who like tactics but aren't really into P5? Well... it might be the other way around, actually? It's an okay tactics game with persona elements, but both parts of that are watered down when compared to base game persona and other tactics games like XCOM.

With that being said, lemme just ramble about what I thought about the story and gameplay.

THE STORY

The best way I can sum up my feelings about Tactica are "the story was told well, but I'm not sure if I liked it." This is a game that's less about the Phantom Thieves and more about Toshiro and Erina and focuses around the internal conflict of rebellion versus self-preservation.

Toshiro is probably why I'm neutral towards the game At Best. Erina grew on me but Toshiro...

Ehh.

At the beginning of the game, he's a big wimp and he's constantly telling the PTs and Erina that they have to be careful. From a theming standpoint, Toshiro's behavior makes perfect sense.

But from the petty bitch inside of me, this is infuriating because not only do YOU know that this is the Phantom Thieves that have taken down Shido (and also Yaldaboth), but TOSHIRO knows it as well and he's being Like This.

Like, he kinda sucks in the beginning and does so for the first two acts, understandably, but by the third act, when The Big Persona Moments happen, my opinion of him just kinda stayed the same. They swayed in a different direction, but... still on the negative side of the spectrum.

The reveal of Erina as Toshiro's Persona... makes sense. She's Toshiro's spirit(?) of rebellion and is based off of his classmate that once inspired him to stand up for himself and others.

Did I like this revelation?

Hell no, I was punching my thigh and screaming in voice call "No fucking way, Toshiro's so lame, though" as loud as I could without upsetting my parents in the other rooms.

From this point on, Toshiro now has the resolve to do what's right, even if it's scary... but he comes off as a little too strong in my opinion. I kinda have the same feelings about Zenkichi once he gets his persona in Strikers. In the beginning they feel like a new character meant to balance out the insanity that is how the metaverse is, but once they get their persona, they're full on inundated in the anime stand battles and they're a little too extra about it.

Having two full acts of "hey guys maybe we shouldn't help the hat people out of hat people slavery," pivoting into "WITNESS OUR POWER AS ONE" has the same vibes as a relative who's not really an asshole, but one that you've been trying to convince for years that economic inflation is the reason why our generation can't live comfortably, and once they finally understand, they come off a little bit too strong and righteous about it that you're not sure they're genuine or if this is a "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit" situation.

And then god happens.

In persona games, I usually don't fully understand how or why the god-being is doing all of this, but I especially can't wrap my head around how they work in Tactica. It's mostly because Toshiro's metaverse is kind of a Silent Hill kinda deal where it's a mental torture labyrinth for him personally, as opposed to Mementos, which is naturally the collective unconscious, connecting everyone's minds and hearts together.

The jump from "I'm going to bully this one guy in particular" to "now EVERYONE will be as lame as Toshiro" is lost on me. Maybe politics?

It's... it's fine, there's no reason to lose sleep over it.

The ending of the story is nice and reasonable, though. It sorta redeems Toshiro for me. It's one thing to yell in your own metaverse hellscape how you're going to do the right thing, but once he's back in the real world, he actually stands up to his dad and fiancé and steps down from his political position to build it back up from scratch, but better.

And, yeah! I respect that.

That being said, though, the game isn't devoid of new Phantom Thief interactions. There's some good ones like Futaba "I don't kinkshame" Sakura, casually bi Joker as seen in that one "who would you marry" bit, and a guys only sidequest in which they think they're looking for Toshiro's porn stash (yeah, I know) (it's not). I wouldn't say it's crumbs, but you're not getting the whole loaf that you'd get from, say, Mementos Mission or Strikers.

The story also does this thing where the Phantom Thieves can relate with Toshiro's issues, but something about it feels... off.

Toshiro's in an arranged marriage with Marie for political reasons! Just like Haru! His fiancé sees him as a pushover! Kinda like Makoto! His mom died when he was young and he blames himself for it! Wow, Yusuke and DEFINITELY Futaba can relate to that!! Eri, the real person that Erina is based on, had to transfer schools because she was accused of a crime! Gee, that SURE sounds familiar-

Part of me thinks I'm being a little too unfair on the game for creating parallels like this because Strikers also kinda did this. But in Strikers, the PTs being able to connect with the jail rulers was integral to the plot. Here, it's just kind of a wink wink nudge nudge kinda thing.

And my knee-jerk reaction to that is a small "I get it, shut uuuup."

Again, and overall because I think that rounds out what I have to say about the story, P5 Tactica's main story isn't bad. It's told well, but I'm not necessarily the biggest fan of it.

GAMEPLAY

I've only played Strikers and I don't think I've played a true tactics game, so I don't know how much weight my opinions hold.

So um.

I dunno, the gameplay was fine.

The pacing is weird because it's kind of a visual novel first, and a tactics game in-between, but I got used to that after a bit.

It's a really simple tactics game and... yeah things don't get too complex outside of sometimes there are buttons that'll open doors or raise and lower platforms, sometimes height matters, but the mechanics don't get too crazy outside of certain boss battles.

The game revolves around downing enemies to get Once More's so you can either encase the enemy in a triangle formed by your units to initiate an All-out Attack or you can chain together Once More's to extend your unit's range and move them across the map. This mechanic took a bit for me to understand fully, but I never really got tired of doing it.

Boss battles were kind of hit or miss in this game. The fights with Toshiro's Dad and Salmael I enjoyed as they were kinda formatted as "here's a weird stage, go figure out what to do." However, Marie and *checks notes* "the scary Eri Natsuhara that Shadow Toshiro made" I didn't care for as much since they changed the game from "your decisions on where to move your units are key for this" to "you need to do exactly as we say." Which always kinda sucks, y'know?

Character selection is also kind of a weird thing in this, too. It doesn't seem like it matters who you take with you into missions, which... feels weird to me considering past Persona games. The elements have all been kinda smooshed down into less of a weakness thing, but just a special move that can hinder movement, do damage over time, or change enemy placement entirely, but which type of special you bring along doesn't seem to be as crucial as other Persona games. Each character has a slightly different attack, gun spread, and movement limit, but it wasn't anything drastic that I noticed apart from Haru (she is very slow but apparently hits like a truck) and possibly Morgana (his attack was very weak for me, but I'm not sure if that's because I didn't have him kitted out properly or that's intended).

I played the game almost entirely with Joker and Ann, while swapping between Erina and Ryuji for the last slot and I didn't run into any problems.

The last stretch of the game is... a strange one gameplay wise. Toshiro becomes a party member except... he's Different(tm). He doesn't get a skill tree, is a permanent fourth party member, and can initiate All-Out Attacks, but isn't a part of the triangle that forms it. He does have a gun, but it's in the form of a 0SP attack that Ernesto/Erina can use... that also happens to ignore walls entirely. And he also gets Almighty attacks, which kinda just do big number damage for way more SP.

It's hard to say if the game did a good job scaling the level difficulties to incorporate a fourth party member as staying on top of your persona fusing, weapons, and the skill tree can kind of make the game a breeze. I also played on the normal difficulty, so maybe in harder difficulties, Toshiro becomes more of a necessity than a party member that breaks the game.

My only big gripe with the game is just... the weirdness of the undo button. I don't know how it is in regular tactics games, but the undo in this game doesn't work on a "clear the last action this unit did" basis, but on a turn basis. If you happen to screw up on turn one, unit one, you have to back out COMPLETELY to the mission start screen, which is hella annoying especially if you're playing on the Switch because of the load times.

"But Pickles, what about the DLC? Surely you have just as many thoughts about it?"

Y'know?

I actually don't.

I liked Repaint Your Heart a lot. Again, it's less a story about the Royal Trio and more about Guernica, but it's closer to the traditional Persona 5 story format where they're changing someone's heart. This story also had much higher emotional... fidelity? I guess you could put it?

Guernica needed to remember her main inspirations for creating art - being abandoned and homeless and her big sister dying because of it and she embraces that anger against society into art that inspires hope in people less fortunate. While being groomed into a political pawn from basically birth and then, later in life, being thrown into your own mental hellscape sucks, in terms of emotional weight, Toshiro's story feels like a feather compared to Guernica's.

Also her design is just cool and the paint aesthetic is definitely more my speed.

In terms of Royal Trio content, I think this was the best case scenario we could expect from Atlus.

Emphasis on "from Atlus."

Yeah, we didn't get Black Mask Akechi, but there are MORE THAN ENOUGH moments where he lets the facade slip. His default spell is Megidola, but his skill tree lets him have both Light AND Dark spells. He'll cuss at you if you hit an enemy into him. I don't know what he's doing viscerally screaming half the time he summons Robin Hood.

Sumi. Is also there.

She is fine.

Guernica's connection to the thieves is also written in the same way as Toshiro is, in that it's a little shoehorned in and doesn't add to the story beyond that. After finding out that Luca is Guernica's sister that died, Sumi definitely feels motivated and inspired to help her out, but Akechi also being an abandoned child, scorned by society, and angry at the world because of it is never touched upon. This is probably for spoiler reasons, but... still.

Because this is a story that takes place during Sae's Palace in the main game, they all have to have amnesia about it in the end. Which, understandable, and at least no one in the trio had extensive character development but...

*clenches fist*

Man,

Having tackled this after the main game, I enjoyed the gameplay a lot! It's basically P5 Tactica but with Splatoon mixed in. When a unit is on a tile painted the opposite color for them, they can be instantly knocked down and combo'd on, which adds a whole extra layer of complexity to the game. I wish there were a few more levels to play, but the length of the DLC never overstays its welcome.

Hokay.

If you made it this far, congrats! You reached the end. And my tl;dr section.

I think that's just about it on what I cohesively have to say about P5 Tactica. This isn't a terrible game by any means, but I don't know if the audience it's intended for actually exists. It has a just okay story and just okay mechanics, but the DLC has a more than okay story and the core mechanics are given a fresh coat of paint (yeah, boo, I know) that makes the game more interesting. I would not go paying $80 USD to experience the DLC alone, though.

Thank you for reading my review if you made it all the way to the end! P5 stuff (well, mostly Akeshu) has been my muse these past few years and playing a game that was "just okay but why did they..." got into my brain real bad, so I wanted to write some stuff out.

I'll close this out with some bullet points of thoughts that I couldn't really cohesively fit into my review:

I really really liked how they got little costumes for the old timey Japan kingdom and I was hoping we'd get more of that and every kingdom was based on a new theme... but we only got three kingdoms and the last one before "Smithy's Forge from Super Mario RPG" was............ School.

SATANAEL'S BACK IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS (BUT ONLY POST-GAME)

Erina also being Ernesto thing is mostly weird to me because she's still her own entity but also not???? The possible genderfluid connotations are cool though.

There's a quest where Haru asks Yusuke how to be fast. Yusuke tells her she has to "Become a Black Hole." I do not know what this means.

After the quest, Haru says that even though the axe slows her down, she's very partial to it as her father didn't like her chopping wood as a kid, but she'd sneak out and do it anyway. She later found out that her dad knew she was doing this, but decided not to scold her for it. She took this as a sign of kindness from her father and that's why the axe is so special to her. I do not know what this means as Haru's father was a horrible capitalist who basically tried to marry her off in pursuit of power.

The weapon designs in this game are generally kind of silly, but I appreciate that they exist in the game. There's a chompy gun with teeth that Joker gets and I really like it :)

God the Lyn tracks from the DLC FUCK

...what

Futaba says "sus" at one point in the end

[bookduck14]

HEARTSTOPPER SEASON 2!!!

I need to rant so here is one about each main character.

Issac: I AM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Alice portrayed being aroace so well and I almost cried when he met the aroace art guy. AND THE WHOLE ROMANCE SUFFOCATING THING WHEN YOU KNOW YOU AREN'T GETTING THAT!!!!!! Also seeing more of his character and really fell in love with it It made my aroace heart so happy (I could go on lol)

Nick: I really related to him this season with his coming out struggles and wanting to come out but also not. Alice yet again exceeded expectations and perfectly showed how the queer teenage experience is! I love how much he helped charlie this season and his amazing development from season 1. He was just amazing in every way.

Charlie: His story was a lot this season in the best way. His story with his mental health really spoke to me and I related to it. This was exactly how is feels to struggle with your mental health. I loved seeing him get more comfortable, realize what he deserves and Im happy that he told ben and harry to fuck off. also I love how he was there for tao and nick and how he supported nick so much in his coming out and made sure not to pressure him and he truly won the best boyfriend award for that. Also the way he made sure to help tao and be his best friend their friendship rocked this season. Another amazing character

Ben: I fucking hate him and what he did to imogen and charlie he deserves to go die in a hole.

Imogen: I loved her so much this season!!!!!!!! I have to admit that I was a bit iffy about her in season 1 but she stood up for herself, made real friends and she was just amazing this whole season I also really love her dynamic with everyone.

Naomi and Felix: They both really helped elle find out who she was and what she wanted to pursue and I'd like to see them join the paris squad in the future!

Elle: Her character developed so much this season, you could see how much more confident she was getting and I loved seeing her pursue her interests and truly find herself and get together with tao! They are so good for each other and I think they will really come through for each other in the future and will be each other's rocks through it all.

Tao: My guy really likes elle and treats her like a queen. She is his everything and its so cute, He tried too hard at first but when he was himself he was at this best. I also loved him and charlie this season they are the best best friends and the lock thing was so cute.

Tara: She cares so much, She takes care of every single one of her friends and supported darcy in every way she could. Their relationship really took off this season, I liked seeing their ups and downs and them persevering through it all!

Darcy: Alice definitely used her character to portray the dark side of being a queer teen. I liked seeing her being shown as having two different sides and her not wanting to talk about her home struggles and presenting as this happy person. I really relate to that. She was great and I hope she gets the support she needs soon!

Sarhar: I'm sensing something between her and Imogen and I really like it! She was a great character!

Christian, Otis and Sai: I liked seeing nick with his supportive rugby guys and they were great!

David: He sucked so much of course. He is a homophobic piece of shit and he can fuck off.

Tori: She was great and really stood up for her brother and I loved all her scenes with at the Nelson-Spring dinner! she was iconic as always

Nellie: I LOVE NELLIE SO MUCH

Sarah (Nicks mom): SHE IS SO AMAZING AND ALWAYS SUPPORTS NICK!

Nicks Dad: He can go die in a fucking hole.

Also lets talk about the soundtrack? IT WAS SO GOOD! Mxtoons Mona Lisa, FALL IN LOVE WITH A GIRL BY CAVETOWN the colors of you throwback, CRUSH CULTURE AND PEOPLE WATCHING!! THE PROM SONG!!! It was all so good upgeicydgsilew8ugg623yuiqp18j

Alice oseman did an amazing job this season and it couldnt have been better!!!!!!! I loved how she included all the iconic scenes from the book too :) They are the best author/ screenwriter and she is jist the best!

I loved this season so much and I will rewatch it frequently! 10/10!!!!!!!!

[genderkoolaid]

my little sibling (12) recently came out as bi + transmasc and has found a lot of queer spaces both online and offline, which seemed to be great for him, but im worried their queer friend groups are not a healthy environment. like, recently he’s been making “jokes” about how women are beautiful and men are ugly and they wishes he was only attracted to women, or how boys are the worst. ive known they were learning a lot of “men suck” rhetoric already since he told me that shit when i came out as transmasc, but now im recognizing that rhetoric is leading to them having internalized transandrophobia + biphobia and i think he needs healthier friends, except they 100% will not listen if i tell him who they should hang out with. idk what to do but i want him to get out of that toxic transandrophobic environment before he internalizes too much of it. advice would be appreciated.

I think what I would do in this situation is start by introducing them to healthier, positive views on men & masculinity. Things like queer men talking about their attraction, positive takes on transmasculinity, stories about men being good people & healthy masculinity, even just people being unashamed about being attracted to men. Maybe showing him things in bi history that talk about bi masculine people & bi love for masculine people, as well as transmasculine history which talks loving transmasculinity. Having a solid, positive connection to masculinity makes it easier to feel how antimasculism hurts people. You could also bring up in conversation ways in which "men suck" rhetoric has been hurtful- maybe specifically start with butches, transmascs, trans people who were amab, because those are groups trans-positive people with antimasculist views tend to view with more sympathy, and it makes it easier to not get derailed with "cishet men aren't oppresed!" arguments and focus on the most impactful harm antimasculism does. You could mention how you've been hurt by it, or how others have repressed their identity because of it, or maybe send them Jennifer Coates' essay which heavily discusses the impact of antimasculism from a closeted trans woman's perspective.

In general, I'd avoid approaching them from the angle of "This Is Bad", and try to naturally produce a conversation where he can, for themself, question those antimasculist views and how they hurt people he cares for, as well as themself. I've mentioned this before in other scenarios, but interacting with other transmascs personally is so helpful for dealing with internalized transandrophobia. Idk what their friend group is like, but introducing him to transmasc-specific/centered spaces (online or offline) that talk positively about masculinity would not only help challenge those beliefs, but also make potentially dropping friends less intimidating because there would be other people they know would support him. Ik a lot of people have been very in that mindset from a young age and changed a lot as they grew and questioned & grew their views on gender, so if nothing else, making sure they have a source of positive masculinity in their life could be helpful in giving them the exposure they need to question those views themself.

[dreamingcloudie]

hii! 💐 anon here! wanted to apologize for not being active, school has been really stressful 😭 anyways could i req, child reader with dottore where dottore reads child! reader a bedtime story , ( I imagine child! reader being in Arlecchino's orhpanage. And was tired from training that day so they asked Dottore to help them sleep by reading a bedtime story ) don't forget to take your time when writing and get some rest ! :D also back with platonic! Dottore cause that's just my favorite 💓

❛❛ Brave Little Warrior ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ You're an interesting one, aren't you? ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore & Child!GN!Reader (PLATONIC)

Genre/Format: Fluff (oneshot)

wc: ~1.2k

Notes: School sucks anon 😔 I hope you're taking good care of yourself! Anyways, Dottore as a big brother figure? Yes please 🙏 I love this request, so wholesome 😭💕💕 I hope you'll like this one!

The House of the Hearth, an orphanage to train children to become fierce warriors. And of course, they had set up an education system as well.

By Arlecchino’s request, Dottore, albeit was reluctant, would come by the orphanage every so often to teach the children. He taught mostly anything science related. If he had to face these kids for hours on end, then he would need to talk about something he enjoys to keep himself sane.

When he first came to the orphanage, his ominous aura and intimidating form would strike fear into the hearts of the children, which he was thankful for because he didn’t want any of those brats to come up to him. All the children were afraid of him, they’ve heard rumors of how a mad scientist would come and take naughty children to a place much worse than the confinement room.

And that man pretty much fitted the description of the rumored mad scientist—that he has strange toothpaste-coloured hair.

So luckily for him, he didn’t have to worry about these kids to cause trouble in his classes.

They wouldn’t dare.

Though, he would admit it could get a bit boring when he taught them. The classroom would get so quiet when he talked, but oh well.

“So, can anyone tell me why lemons conduct electricity?” He asked.

And as expected, no one raised their hand, afraid that they might get the answer wrong and they would be faced with something worse than detention. However, a voice spoke among the crowd before he could continue.

“Because they have citric acid!”

He looked to where the voice came from and saw a bubbly kid with a grin on their face.

How interesting, a child who isn't afraid to speak up. He thought.

Then he recalled that Arlecchino mentioned something about a new kid was brought to the orphanage a few days ago… (Y/n), was it?

So it was them it seemed, he had never seen them before.

An amused smile took over his usual scowl when he heard the answer.

"My, you are a smart one, aren't you? Correct."

Everyone was scared of him and would not get close to him willingly, let alone even looking in his way. This was the first time a kid would talk to him on their own accord.

What an interesting soul you were.

He was sure that the other kids had told you about the 'mad scientist' rumors already. But when the lesson came to an end, to his surprise you walked up to him and tilted your head up to look at him.

"Mister harbinger, can we do the volcano experiment for the next lesson, please?" You asked.

To which he only responded by staying silent for a few seconds before he huffed and made his way to the exit.

With that response, you assumed he rejected your suggestion. Feeling dejected, you blew at a strand of your hair before going to the bedroom you were assigned to.

---

The next time you saw 'Mister harbinger' was a week later. When he came into the room, you gasped excitedly at what he was carrying. Some baking soda, a bottle of vinegar…

And a volcano model.

He put the items down onto the desk and as usual, the class stayed quiet to listen to what he had to say. He scanned his eyes around the room and spotted you with the silliest wide grin on your face.

You were a breath of fresh air to him. And so he decided to indulge you in your request.

"Today, we'll be doing the volcano experiment."

---

It's been a month since you've been in the orphanage.

As class ended, it was now time for combat training. You made sure to say your goodbyes to The Doctor before leaving for the training ground, and he nodded in return.

For a few hours, you and the other kids were paired up to go against each other. But to your dismay, you ended up losing every duel.

Among the other kids, you didn't excel in battle. Your stance was sloppy and you had trouble controlling your stamina usage. For that reason, the kids who won against you would make fun of you for being weak.

However, you did have a gifted mind to make up for that, in which The Doctor took interest in.

As you laid on the ground exhausted, you could make out the silhouette of the harbinger leaning against the wall. He was there as Arlecchino’s second pair of eyes. Making sure none of the kids fool around.

When he saw how exhausted you looked, he felt a tiny spark of pity in him.

He would not admit it, not in a million years, but he might have a little soft spot for you. The moment you first talked to him. Right then and there he decided that you would be the only kid he could tolerate.

When the training finally ended, everyone other than you scurried to go back to their rooms, not wanting to be in the presence of the second fatui harbinger any longer.

And you were just laying on the ground panting, sweat was rolling down your face. 

"Why are you still laying there, brat?" Mister harbinger spoke, strolling over to you.

"I… I'm tired." You told him.

"Let's get you to bed then," he said. Holding a hand out for you to take.

You grabbed a hold of his hand and he got you back up, leading you to your bedroom.

Before he could leave the room as you settled down on the bed, you called out to him, "Wait!"

He halted in his tracks, tilting his head a little at you.

"Can you, um, read me a bedtime story, please?" 

"You are training to become a Fatui member, you want me to read you a story?" He scoffed.

"Please, Mister! I'm too tired and I want a story to help me sleep…" You pleaded.

He stood still for a while before sighing and sitting down on a chair next to your bed.

As he did so, you got under the covers and laid down, hugging your teddy bear with a silly grin on your face again.

He observed you for a while, thinking back to how the kids would make fun of you for not being great at combat. You didn't show it but he could see the shame and sadness in your eyes.

And so he made up a little story, secretly wanting to cheer you up.

"Well, once upon a time, there was a… little warrior who wished to become stronger—"

As he continued, his soothing voice was making your eyes heavy, but you were too invested into the story. And you wanted to wait until it was finished.

"—they trained every day so they could beat down foes and the others would stop making fun of them—"

When it finally came to an end, you were still wide awake and you asked him, "What happened next? Did they become a better fighter?"

He looked at you and smiled a little to himself, patting you on the head.

"Not yet, but they worked very hard and I know they will one day. They are a brave little warrior, after all."

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Interview

Thank you for the tags @mk-writes-stuff and @kaylinalexanderbooks!

For this one I am going to be using two characters that are both from The Testaments of the Green Sea, but from different cycles. Akard is from the Ninma Cycle, Batricca is from the Mikrab Cycle. Both of these interviews will take place before their first introduction in their respective cycles, gotta avoid those spoilers.

Are you named after anyone?

Akard: "Named after anyone? Well I suppose all nobility are aren't they? As for a specific person...no, or if there was such a person, my father never told me about them."

Batricca: "My grandfather, may he rot, gave me the name of my mother."

When was the last time you cried?

Akard: "Cried...well I would rather not say, if that's alright with you."

Batricca: "370 years ago. I was a fool then, crying over a liar and a coward."

Do you have kids?

Akard: "Kids? I don't have time for that, not yet at least, some day, maybe."

Batricca: " I forget....somewhere around 165, I think."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Akard: "Of course I do, sarcasm is the third language of the Apunian court. The other two? Apunian and Lies."

Batricca: "Sarcasm is the art of those without the power or respect to talk seriously."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Akard: "Not to sound...vain, but their clothes. You can tell much about a person just by looking at their clothes. Where they came from, their tastes, their status..."

Batricca: "Their posture. How do they hold themself before me? How do they act in the face of the War Queen?"

What’s your eye colour?

Akard: "Brown, like acacia wood. That's what my nursemaid used to say."

Batricca: "Blue, like the cloudless sky."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Akard: "Hmm...I'm assuming a movie is some sort of story and song. When you say happy, does that include just stories? I like stories in which the wicked are punished and the righteous are elevated.

Batricca: "Hahahaha! I do love scary stories, because they are always about me, well at least the best ones."

Any special talents?

Akard: "I like to think that I am quite good on a chariot. I can paint, I'm not a terrible lyre player..."

Batricca: "Talents? I have many. Too many to name. I can pull apart a wall with my hands, I can pull a sturgeon from the river with no hook, I can bend swords with my teeth. Are those talent enough for you?"

Where were you born?

Akard: "Apuna, in the city of Nashawey, if my father is to be believed, it was in the Fapacha's stable."

Batricca: "The City of the Sinutrax tribe, in the burial mound of my great grandfather, where my grandfather left my mother to birth me...and to die."

Do you have any pets?

Akard: "I had a hound, and two cats. But I gave them into the care of one of the other members of the Fapacha's court. They don't do well at sea. Their names were Tumel, Senaha, and Hiruru."

Batricca: " Do the 17 tribes count?"

What sort of sports do you play?

Akard: "I used to wrestle, I did some chariot racing, some foot racing too, and I did my fair share of bird hunting."

Batricca: "My sport is war."

How tall are you?

Akard: "Something like...five feet and seven inches? Tall for the Apunian court."

Batricca: "Eight feet and five inches, at my last count."

What was your favourite subject in school?

Akard: "I enjoyed learning history, even if Kishetal was only an afterthought in the minds of my Apunian tutors."

Batricca: "School? Do I look like an olive-sucking southerner to you?"

What is your dream job?

Akard: "Oh that's easy, following in my father's and my grandfather's footsteps."

Batricca: " Where I am now, while....more is always better."

Tagging @illarian-rambling , @roach-pizza , @willtheweaver , @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling , and @revenantlore

[vallyb]

Christmas || Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/N

Summary: With the squad talking about Christmas, Y/N feels bad that Bradley has to spend it alone so she invites him home for the holidays.

Alt.

Idiots who like to tease each other then they kiss at the end.

Word Count: 5500+

Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Fluff,  Mutual Pinning, Bestie!Bob makes a light appearance, Y/N is a mixed Filipino, Female Identifying Reader, Slightly spicy in the end with just a lil kiss kiss, light choking(?), Bradley is a great kisser, I suck at re-editing, Reader is 28, age gap but it's not a big deal in the story just lil jokes here and there, Rooster's just happy to be included in a family setting

A/N: I have no idea how to actually write so pls pls pls forgive me. I also used like a character building guide question thing so forgive me if shit's a bit too long. I just love reading stories where the main character is built well. I'm a very very very novice writer, so pls shoot me a message on how I can improve my writing!

"So you two aren't together?" Phoenix leaned into the counter, asking about you and Robbie (Bob).

"I mean we did try that one time." You scrunched your nose.

"Oh, it was horrid. We were kids that were pressured into it. Holding hands felt fine, but when we tried to kiss, it felt like I was kissing an actual sister I had." Robbie explained further.

"I'm sorry if I was given the wrong idea. Bob absolutely adores you and talks about you endlessly. I can't see why he wouldn't though." She winked as you laughed.

"Oh, you should have seen Robbie back then. He was a little ladies man back in high school! The bad boy with that cowboy hat and curly hair."

"Ohhh, Bob being a ladies man, huh?" Phoenix raised her eyebrows teasingly at him, him scowling at you for bringing it up.

Smiling cheekily, you reached over to poke him before going back with your rag on the counter. You knew he missed you, it was quite a while since you've seen each other. They had been assigned out of California for a while. Today was the first day you met all of Robbie's friends and you were quite excited. Him you saw back home last Christmas, so you cared less about his face. It was refreshing though, how you felt like you five were friends for years. The other two, Micky and Reuben, running off to the bathroom from drinking too much at the bar across.

You worked at The Greasy Spoon, a diner right across the popular Navy bar. It was where some of the guys would hang out after the bar had closed. As all the places near the base were mandated to only be open Wednesday to Friday until 8 PM, Arthur, your 65-year-old veteran boss, was able to fight to be opened until 12 AM.

The bell by the door suddenly rang meaning the door had opened. You shot up from the counter and immediately got the menus, quickly shuffling your way over to the entrance door. It was Arthur's request that the diner would feel like home, servers would be dressed like 50s wives and husbands, greeting soldiers at the door like his wife did for him when he'd come home. It sounded a little misogynistic but the way Lucinda had clung to his arm giggling while he told that story had you swooning. Tonight, you were the only server left since service was usually slow at night. Most patrons of the Hard Deck were either going home or getting lucky.

You softly winced as your hip had come in contact with the slightly misaligned table.

"Are you good, sweetheart?" The brunette asked concerned, his hands hovering above your waist that got hit.

"Welcome to The Greasy Spoon. How may I be of service today?" You said winded from the pain, slowly straightening yourself up.

Your face was still somewhat smiling to keep up your cheery retail personality. Rooster's mouth was unable to hide the smile that was growing on his because of your cute pained expression.

Like Pavlov's dogs, you associated the bell ringing with a straight posture and turning on your biggest smile but that was blocked by the brunette's head, both of you wincing. With the blonde that had just entered backwards, laughing and pushing around with his buddy that have yet to step in the door, bumped the Hawaiian shirt wearing man forward into you.

You flinched, head tilting down, shoulders rising up, as he stumbled forward knocking you off your balance a little.

"Woah there." He held onto your waist, stopping your from completely tipping over. "Sorry 'bout that. I promise I don't go knocking pretty girls around to get their attention."

"I promise I don't go bumping heads with pretty brunettes." You laughed.

"See? Rooster's already picking up- Siren?" Your head whipped to the blonde that was standing behind. Siren, a nickname you haven't heard in a while. After pranking Robbie (Bob) and his brother, everyone who knew you would soon enough learn of it.

"I knew I recognized that big head somewhere." You smiled coming close to hug him. Jake Seresin was a piece of work but he was a lovely country boy you met back in Texas, him having 'special relations' with your cousin, Carlos (or Caloy as he was known in the family). No one really knew that he was gay, he mentioned when you sat down to talk to him about him sleeping around. The pretty girls he took home were all just for show. Well, at first it wasn't, until he finally accepted that he was for the other team. The over masculinized persona was just hiding a man who really wanted to be loved by another man.

You laughed as he picked you up. "I missed you, momma bear." He muffled onto your shoulder. Another nickname that stuck after you practically ate him alive when he and Carlos had broken up about a million times. After accepting how they weren't gonna work out, they decided to lay it off and hook up whenever the other was in town. "Just as long as everyone's on the same page and no one's getting hurt." You said.

"I see you've met Rooster." He said as he put you down.

"Oh yeah, we're very well acquainted." You turned to look at the boy.

"That's Coyote." 'Rooster' pointed to the other tall man standing next to Jake.

"Oh yeah, I know him. Double cheese, triple patty, ketchup on the side, and a slice of banana chocolate chip bread?"

"Tastes almost like home." Javy smiled, patting Jake's shoulder who made their way to the counter to join the two, with Mickey and Reuben walking back to their seats from their trip in the toilet.

"Well, seems like you know everyone already." The brunette said with a sheepish smile scratching the back of his head.

"Oh yeah, you're practically useless, chicken." You laughed at his taken aback expression as you tugged him over to join the group.

The night was just starting for the group as you learned. They had just come home from their detachment, holiday plans were being discussed by the group. They explained how they spoke about holiday plans early into the year, helped them keep sane while they were away from home, thinking about what was waiting for them when they did. Everyone was excited, talking about how they were going to come home while Rooster, the man you still didn't catch the name of, kept quiet.

"Hey, what about you?" You asked softly, making sure not to overstep.

"Hm?" His eyes drifting behind you, staring at the multitude of candy syrups for the shaved ice.

"Any holiday plans or you're not much for the holiday spirit?"

"Ah," His eyes travelled up to your face, smiling sadly. "I guess not, no."

Both of you had gotten close, with him staying in Fightertown much longer than the others. Being tired after hours, he'd come around The Greasy Spoon to eat something before he went home. You staying to accompany him in his booth as he ate.

It was late, so you were shocked when the bell on the door rang. "Arthur! Lucinda!" You smiled, rushing over to hug them. They weren't the typical bosses, you almost felt as if they were your grandparents.

"Hey, sweetie. We'll be staying upstairs for tonight, Arthur and I wanted to lay down on the beach tomorrow." Lucinda referred to the little suite they had made on top of the restaurant for when they visited.

"Oh, and who is that young man there?" Arthur asked, walking towards Bradley who was doodling on a piece of tissue.

Arthur and Lucinda meeting Bradley was nerve wracking. For some reason, you had this feeling that you wanted them to approve of him, and it was easy for them to. Bradley was smooth and respectful, the night ending with the two owners practically pushing you out to "be kids, have fun!" and you whining about how you're 28 and not a kid. Your mustached friend offering to accompany you home when you started walking, him trailing close by. You told him how much you loved passing by the beach as you walked home, the humid air and the cold breeze reminding you of how it was back at home, back when you were a kid in the Philippines. With Rooster glistening with sweat, and you laughing at how he looked, you invited him in to stay the night.

"You said your apartment was nearby."

"Old man, I said my apartment is at Kingby which is a street that is a 45-minute walk from the diner." You laughed, handing him a glass of water. "I'll get you some of my cousin's clothes and a towel. You stink. Just get your jeep tomorrow."

It happened more often as time passed that he stayed late until you closed up. You figured he stayed because it was lonely being without the rest of his friends back at the apartment he had near the base, but he did it so he could make sure you got home safe after learning that this was your nightly routine. On nights that you were more tired than usual, he'd drive you but sometimes he'd walk you 'forcing' him to sleep on your couch for the night.

You had known each other for 10 months before you thought to ask, ensuring that Rooster wasn't absolutely going to murder you and your family. You didn't know how you managed to get Bradley to actually come with but it did work after hours and hours of pleading. And that's how he ended up at your family house back in Wabang, Wyoming where you had originally met Robbie (Bob) and his brothers, where all of you had grown up.

Rooster heard you coming in the room when you switched the lights on. He just kept his eyes closed, listening to what you were up to while you came in and out of the room. You went around the bed getting your phone that was charged which was connected to the mini JBL bluetooth speaker that Kuya Caloy got you last Christmas, playing a calm OPM Christmas song.

Rooster took note of how the song sounded. It was pretty, it sounded exactly how he thought what you'd like to listen to. He couldn't understand the lyrics but the melody of it was enough to bring a soft smile to his face before immediately turning it neutral again to feign his sleep while you softly padded back outside. The little shuffling of your feet that he has memorized came shortly after with the scent of warm milk sifting through the air and the sound of the door clicking close followed by a sharp locking sound.

He felt you looking at him, the warmth of your gaze burning on his cheeks. A soft smile growing on your face when you saw how his face had relaxed that the usual stress that you read on his face. He was the responsible one of the group. Always tense, always on-guard, even as he had fun and laughed with the group, his eyes darted around to make sure everyone was included and everyone was okay.

"Bradley?" You shook him softly. He kept his eyes closed so you wouldn't know that he was awake all this time. "Bradley, come, wake up." You knelt down infront of him, hand touching his face. "Bradley, wake up, caro." Your thumb rubbing on his cheeks, his eyes finally fluttering open.

"Hey."

"Hey." He smiled back.

You looked at each other for a while before you took your hand off his face. "I'm sorry." You smiled sheepishly, standing up and sitting on the edge of the bed facing Rooster. "I wasn't sure how to wake you up, I didn't want to be rude and be loud."

"It's okay. It's nice to be woken up without yelling and whistles for once." He stretched himself and sat up.

"I wasn't sure if I should wake you up but it's tradition for everyone in the house to wait for the clock to strike 12 for Christmas. We don't get to have New Years Eve together so we decided to do it for Christmas instead." You shrugged looking down at your hands.

"It's lovely, chick. I haven't been part of any Christmas traditions in a while so I appreciate you for letting me be a part of yours." He said softly reaching your hands to squeeze them lightly, making you feel warm.

It wasn't usual for you to feel shy around him. If anything, you were the one who took joy in teasing him and making him flustered. You didn't know where these feelings came from so suddenly. You did quite like him already but something about him being in pajamas and looking so casual made your heart flutter. Everything just felt somewhat domestic.

"Good thing my mom would absolutely murder me if she learned that I let someone spend it alone or else you would've been all alone this Christmas." You smiled teasingly at him to try and ignore the feeling in your stomach that was growing.

"Well, I'll make sure to give her some special lovins when I get down then. Heard she and her husband were separated, possibly might need someone to fill the spot?" He teased back.

You gasped, grabbing a pillow and smacking him in the face with it. "If you wanted me to call you daddy, you don't need to do all that." You rolled you eyes, mouth running before you could even think, suddenly blushing.

Rooster couldn't respond, instead he hit you back with a pillow too. That went on for a while until he accidentally hit your head with full force. Your jaw dropped looking at him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He apologized looking at you, pulled your head onto his chest and rubbing it.

You pushed him hard, his back falling onto the bed as you grabbed a pillow to smack his head with it. "You don't." Smack. "Hit a girl." Smack. "That hard." Smack. "In pillow fights!" Smack.

"I'm sorry!" He said as you both started giggling as you attacked him with the pillow. You were straddling him, your short frame needing to be high up on his torso so you could even hit him. You didn't realize it but Rooster was flushed by how close you were.

"Okay, okay, enough." You said seeing the clock with a bright LED white 11:50 PM written on it. "I got you a little snack to wake your stomach up before we join everyone downstairs." You reached over the bed, one hand steadying you near Rooster's head to get to the bedside table and getting what he presumed was what he smelled the first time you went up. "I brought you hot chocolate balls too but I thought that maybe you'd want to pour the warm milk yourself. I didn't know how much cream and syrup you wanted either so I just brought them up." You unlatched yourself off his torso and on the side of it so he could sit up. He found it cute, how you sat on your feet eager to see him try everything that you brought for him.

He got the fork from the little plate and ate something that was like bread on a leaf. It was sweet but a little salty. It felt like cornbread but it wasn't. You giggled as you saw his confused face getting a second bite.

"Oh, I failed to mention. You should get ready for the aunties downstairs. Everyone came while you were napping." You said while fixing how you were sat.

"What should I get ready for?" He asked as he took more bites of the bread-like thing in front of him.

"Just the comments of how tall you are, possible touching of your arms or shoulders, possible assumptions that you might be my boyfriend." You blushed. "I'm not sure how inappropriate they might get. I haven't brought home a boy. Well, except, Robbie— I mean, Bob. But that's different, he's been coming here since grade school so that doesn't count."

"I always wondered about you and Bob." He wondered.

"Hm, what about us?" You asked. His eyes widened realizing that he did say it out loud.

"At first we thought you were his girlfriend with how he spoke of you." He said eating his next bite.

"Ahhh." You laughed. "Robbie and I go way back, we met in grade school when we first moved here. Mom was having a hard time going through the divorce and I was alone at a potluck. He had his brothers, and they wanted a little sister so they took me under their wing, seeing all the bullying and stuff at school. They were the cool kids so being attached at their hip protected me too which was nice. His family practically treated me as their own."

"Ah, well, Bob and his family seems like a nice bunch then." He smiled softly, slightly jealous at how close you both were.

"So much so that our family spends time with them a lot. Anyways, how's the food?"

"The first bite was a bit weird but it's somewhat addicting. It's sweet and salty but it's nothing I've tasted before. It's delicious." He said, shovelling a bigger bite into his mouth.

"It's bibingka- coconut cream, cheese, and salted egg, all together. No one would think that it would taste good at first glance but weirdly, it does. Tastes delicious dipped in hot chocolate too." You motioned your lips towards the table.

He looked at you confused, you could practically see question marks floating on top of his head.

You laughed, picking up the mug. He took it, smiling at how cute it was. There was a literal hot chocolate ball in it.

"Ah, the hot chocolate. I thought you were kissing some Christmas ghost in the air or something."

You got the warm milk and handed it to him. "Why, you rather it was you?"

He laughed at your response, taking the milk from your hands. Both of you watched as it melted the ball. Completing the cup, you held it as he added a tower of whipped cream and a bit of chocolate syrup on top.

"Oop!" You exclaimed as a bit of the hot chocolate spilled out as you passed it back to him. Out of habit, you swiped your finger up the cup and stuck it in your mouth, you didn't even realize how he stared at you in adoration. She's so cute, he thought as he brought the cup to his lips to sip. You giggled when he pulled it away, cream stuck on his moustache.

"What?" He asked, oblivious.

"Nothing!" You smiled, cheekily. "Now try it with the bibingka." You said excited, getting the plate and dipping the bibingka into the hot chocolate, holding it up to his mouth.

He stared at the fork, hesitating for a second before taking a bite. "Mmm! That is good." He said with his mouth full. He wasn't kidding. It was great.

"It should be. I made everything." You teased.

"Well, now it isn't as good." He said jokingly, getting a glare.

"Shut up, pornstache. I'm trying to be nice for Chrismas here." You whined.

"It's good, Y/N. It's really good." He smiled which you returned. You fell into silence, clinks of the fork and the plate, and his sips were the only things heard. You sat there to watch him finish, stealing a few sips of the hot chocolate as well, blushing, thinking about how the scene playing out between you felt. You thought of how your lips touched the same cup his did, your cheeks reddening, something that Rooster mistook for just warmth from the hot chocolate. It was such a middle school thought, indirect kiss.

"I'm sorry I couldn't really get you anything expensive but I still wanted to get you a gift, so here. I've washed it so wear it when you come down if you want." You said, handing him a paper bag. "I'll be downstairs, okay? Come follow soon." You took the dishes leaving him in the room.

You opened the door again before he had opened his gift, smiling at him as you did. "Oh, and wipe your damn face."

You secretly wished he'd wear it. It was a sweater you've been knitting for him with a special message inside when he'd take it off. It was designed with a scene of a story told by Maverick, told to you by the other members of the squad which you found hilarious. He laughed when he saw it. It was a vague scene of pine trees, snow, and a little Mav pushing him in anger during the uranium mission. You didn't sew on a full face on him, but he knew that it was him by the pronounced mustache you gave the man in the sweater.

He hasn't gotten a real Christmas present in a while. I mean the cash was nice during his teenage years, and a few beer bottles were appreciated from his teammates when they invited him out for a Christmas drink, but this was really thoughtful.

You blushed as you walked down, thinking about how you would've kissed Bradley's cream-stache away if you could. You shook away your thoughts, busying yourself in the kitchen with your mom and aunties. You were the one making sure everything tasted right. Everyone assisted in cooking but it fell on you how everything tasted. There was a wide variety of food that were Noche Buena classics with a couple of just general Filipino event classics— honeyed ham, lechon, fried chicken, pansit, spaghetti, rice, buko pandan, bibingka, puto bumbong, and mango graham. It was more than enough for everyone in the house but somehow with all the takeouts for other people who took food home, there was always nothing left.

"Ay anak, where's Bradley? He should come and meet everyone." Your mom asked. "Ay, my child, where's Bradley? He should come and meet everyone."

"He'll be coming down soon, mama. Just getting ready. He went to nap, remember? He's used to sleeping early." You smiled towards your excited mom.

"Uy! Sino si Bradley? Am I gonna finally gonna get an apo sa tuhod?" Your lola exclaimed. "Uy! Who's Bradley? Am I gonna finally gonna get great-grandchildren?"

"Ay mama, ang pogi pogi, ang tangkad, at ang bait pa jusko!" Your mom said to her mother. "Kung ganyan ang magiging manugang ko, aba, bakit hindi?" "Ay mama, he's so handsome, so tall, and so kind, my goodness!" "If my son-in-law would be him, gosh, why not?"

"Mamaaaa, please, he's just a friend." You whined as you wiped your hands off at the small hand towel attached to your pants, removing it and setting it on a hook, moving out the kitchen into the dining room where you saw Bradley interacting with your little cousin.

"You know, I fly planes too!" He exclaimed to Sasa, who was listening to him intently. He took her plane toy and explained to her with it how they'd fly up and down. You smiled at how cute they looked, Rooster looked up and noticed. He ruffled the little kid's hair before making his way to you.

"Starting the propaganda on the youngens, I see." You teased.

"Have to get the recruits somehow." He nudged you back, as you rolled your eyes. He was fucking impossible. Always had a comeback for you.

You walked him towards the table where all the food was. The food filled the table so no one ate there except for the elderlies who you've taken note to make space for. Most people were either standing while they were eating on whatever flat surface they could find, in the living room, or just sitting on the floor— talking, laughing, eating.

"Mama, lola, Bradley's here!" You yelled as the two came rushing out of the kitchen giggling.

You leaned over the table to get a piece of puto bumbong to stuff in your mouth while the two approached them.

"Uy, Bradley, what are your intentions with my apo, ha?" Your lola had said to Bradley making you choke on your snack. "Hey, Bradley, what are your intentions with my granddaughter, ha?"

"Lola—"

She shushed you. "Bradley, my apo, she may be dense but I'm not. She's beautiful, and she cooks well. Not so good at the love department, but she's smart in other things."

"Lolaaa." You whined as Rooster smiled at you cheekily.

"Ma'am, I assure I have nothing but pure intentions for your apo. She's a lady, and I am a gentleman." He nodded, satisfied with what he said.

"Mhm, yeah, my daughter, a lady? That's new." Your mom laughed making you whine and pull Rooster away by his arm, but he resisted wanting to hear more.

"Ay anak, jusko, you can't blame me. How can I think of you as a ladylike woman when you play the most with Robert and that bull rider brother of his? Hay nako, Bradley, my daughter here. As amazing she is at swimming, she's a little troublemaker."

"Mama, that was one timeeee. They were teasing me."

"Sus, I know you did it more than once. Gave the town a heart attack each time." She grumbled. "I'm so sorry, Bradley, you don't know the story." She reached over to hold his arm as she continued, "Y/N, here, decided to fall off the boat and fake drowning to scare the two."

"They were rocking the boat to scare me, mama. I just wanted to scare them back."

"The water was freezing, anak, and you were down there for long enough that even the lifeguards had thought you'd drowned too."

"Scared them enough to stop teasing me though." You smiled cheekily at your mom who squished your face in annoyance.

"Hay nako, Bradley, you have to forgive me for raising such a little stubborn girl. Gladly you've been able to put up with her."

"Oh, Ms. Degamo, you have no idea how hard it's been." He feigned, charming your mom by using Miss and her maiden name.

"Ayayay, you come with me and take time away from her then. Come get some food then let me introduce you to the rest of the family." She grabbed onto his bicep.

As he was getting led away, he mouthed teasingly, "I'm gonna be your dad." which you responded with a middle finger.

"Y/N." She warned even as her back was turned.

"Sorry, ma!"

With that, you started packing some lumpia for Robbie and his brothers- Rhett, Harrison, Miles, and Luke, all practically the same person but in different fonts. They'd kill each other at the Christmas table, but they'd kill for each other if someone outside the family had said something bad about the other. Their father was a sweet man, Bill, who was the town's livestock veterinarian. It was absolute hell when you stayed over because of all the whining animals that you heard but it was fun because of your silly little girl crush on their dad.

"You know, with how much food you pack for them during Christmas, one would think you were sweet on one of the brothers." Carlos came around to tease you. You were both the eldest cousins in the family, the next one who came after you was still in high school going through the 'I hate my family' phase.

"As long as they didn't know I was sweet on their dad." You shushed him as his jaw dropped, you laughing out loud which caught Bradley's attention raising an eyebrow at you. You shrugging him off and going out to meet the boys who always arrived exactly at 11:55 before heading to the bar. Since Mrs. Floyd left, the boys and their father head off to the bar and made new traditions ending the night with a good ol' line dance (or rather, the boys getting their father drunk enough to dance with them as they kept him from sobbing through Christmas Eve).

"Mr. Floyd!"

"I told you, Y/N. It's Bill."

"And I told you, Mr. Floyd, you're too prominent in the town for me to call you that."

Hearing shouts and mumbles, he sighed and rolled his eyes looking back at the truck filled with the rowdy boys.

"Fine, 30 seconds, boys!" He yelled as everyone unloaded and rushed to you.

"Merry Christmas, Si!" Everyone took turns in giving you a hug and a little kiss on the head. From the outside, it would look like you were getting mauled by a pack of wolves. They opened the door and rushed in, saying hello to everyone and giving them a holiday smooch on their cheeks. Bill had come in to join them, giving the kids a fist bump then giving a kiss on the cheek to your grandma before they had to leave. Robbie (Bob) stood next to you while everyone said their quick goodbyes.

"You like him, don't you?" He said.

"Wha- who?"

"Bradley, not my father, you idiot."

"Who knows, maybe I'm sweet on your dad."

"You're disgusting."

"You're the one who gets their dick sucked off in their father's truck every Christmas Eve. That truck would light up like the town's Christmas Tree if I even get close to it with a black light."

"True."

You laughed pushing him out the front door, Bill coming to say goodbye to you with you giving him a kiss on the cheek. He said a quick thank you to everyone, the boys coming and going like a hurricane.

You had one more gift for Bradley that you forgot up in the room which you ran up to get.

"So you and Mr. Floyd, huh?" Bradley teased, you slightly jumped at his sudden presence.

"I like experienced men, what can I say?" You shrugged, focusing on searching for the little box. He choked and spilled his drink on his sweater. "Oh no, honey." You laughed, rushing over to take his drink and pat his back.

"Let me get you a shirt and get that in the laundry, it'll stain." You walked out to get a shirt from Carlos' room. Walking back in, everything got suddenly quiet with Bradley holding the sweater inside out.

"You got quite a type, Ms. Bressett." He teased, referring to your crush confession sewn on the inside of his sweater, sipping on his drink again.

"Oh yeah, it's the daddy issues, old man."

"You're such a fucking headache. Always got a comeback for me."

He was leaned on the random dresser near the door, his body blocking you from fully entering the room. You looked at his bare shoulders, your breath audibly hitching as his grin grew wider. You took the dirty sweater and stepped closer, his smug face dropping.

"How do you think I feel when your annoying ass mouth keeps running, hm?" You said just lightly above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your face now. Your heart sped up at how close you both were, his breath matching yours. He closed his eyes, his arm wrapped around your waist, gripping harder as if it was the only thing stopping him from closing the gap between you. "You never listen to me, Bradshaw." You muttered.

He hummed confused, eyes opening to meet yours that were smiling.

"Wipe your damn face, chicken." You laughed, shoving the sweater onto his face trying to run past as he smiled and rolled his eyes.

He grabbed you with one hand and pulling you closer to him as he rubbed his face onto you, smearing the whipped cream on his mustache on your cheek. You shrieked pushing your hands onto his chest but he was stronger and kept you there.

"Now, we're fair."

"10..." You heard downstairs the countdown to Christmas started.

"Bradley, come on. We're gonna miss the count." You whined, pulling him, simultaneously getting the tissues to wipe both your faces. Wiping yours first, then his, he still stood there like an idiot, not moving an inch.

"What? Do you want me to get you dressed t- mmmph!"

"1..."

His lips crashed down onto yours, a sigh falling off your lips. You could hear his breathing slow down as your hands fell onto his shoulders, feeling the dips and rises that his muscles had provided. One of his hands kept exploring while the other stayed to cup your cheek. His hands got lower gripping onto your thigh making you gasp, letting his tongue make it's way in. His hands were so big on your body that even just him holding it felt good.

He walked you backwards onto the wall, shutting and locking the door as he did. You pushed yourself forward, trying to deepen the kiss, whining when the hand that was softly cupping your cheek seconds ago wrapped around your neck to give a gentle squeeze. He pulled away kissing your flushed cheeks that he found cute.

"You ass, you made us miss the count." You whispered, eyes still closed, head floating.

"I did." He laughed, kissing down to your neck.

"I don't wanna have sex. Not yet. Especially not when my family's around."

"I'm not in a rush, chick. All at your pace." He held your face, his forehead nuzzling onto yours. "Besides, I'd love to wine and dine you before I do."

"What a gentleman." You rolled your eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me, missy?"

"Get changed, pornstache. I'm hungry." He chuckled as you threw the clean shirt to his chest, putting it on himself following close by as you walked back to the living room.

The inside-out sweater that had 'I have a crush on you. Kiss me, if you like me back.' sewn on it was forgotten on the floor along with the gift you'd have to give sometime else instead.

[steampunkforever]

Y'know Art Spiegelman? The guy who wrote Maus? What if I told you he was indirectly responsible for one of the worst films I've ever seen hands down?

Often some of the best films come from unexpected places. Cult favorite Boondock Saints was never supposed to be made and yet some how a no budget Boston masterpiece captured the hearts and minds of college dorm rooms everywhere. Spaghetti Westerns were low budget castoffs of a genre no longer en vogue, and yet produced hands down some of the best cowboy films we've ever seen. My point is that often movies that come from unexpected sources have that spark that conventional productions don't. The Garbage Pail Kids Movie, on the other hand, may come from an unexpected source, but is an exception to this rule.

It started when Topps, a chewing gum/collector card company created their own twisted parody of the Cabbage Patch Kids out of spite after a licensing agreement went sour. Speigelman was one of the first designers on the project, and he and his team (including James Warhola, nephew of Andy Warhol) put out a series of wacky collector cards depicting what were basically softcore ratfink reimaginings of the Cabbage Patch line that proved to be so popular as to be banned in schools. The cards did so well that just a couple years later Topps produced the live action disaster that was the Garbage Pail Kids Movie.

This is a film completely irredeemable in almost every way. Part of my distaste for it comes from the fact that rather than pull a Gremlins and have these walking aberrations actually cause chaos, the film tries to somehow soften them into something that could deliver a moral to the story. Not that there's much story. The plot is paper thin, to the point that the motivator for the Garbage Pail Kids (lost Garbage Pail Comrades) is hastily wrapped up with an "I guess they're dead!" (???????) and we're whisked away to an equally uninspiring plot point where the Garbage Pail Kids do more stuff we don't care about.

Obviously I don't think we should be demanding prestige writing from the series known for figureheads like Messy Tessie and Greaser Greg, but dear lord not a single character in this film is even narrowly sympathetic. The bully/antagonist force in this sucks, and yet frankly you sort of root for them to end these creeps. The main character (played by Sean Astins brother apparently?) is written as a peeping tom who wholly deserves the sewer dunking he gets, and none of the other characters are much better. The Garbage Pail Kids aren't even fun in their mischief, just awful to look at and listen to. There's a segment where the main love interest (who is grooming Astin's character, by the way) has a block of dialog dedicated to how horrible the Garbage Pail Kids are, and though its certainly cast as an unfeeling villain speech, she's 100% correct in her assessment. Nobody in this movie has positive traits. I would kill Foul Phil with a ball peen hammer.

One of the most jarring parts of this film for me was--in a fairly innocuous scene--the presence of a MACVSOG patch the costumers stuck on Astin's jacket. What sort of secret messaging is there in the Garbage Pail Kids Movie that they're alluding to the CIA's special operations group that was tied to the Gulf of Tonkin incident and US operations in Laos?

Don't watch this film. If I ever see Foul Phil again it's on sight.

[landhficrecs]

Asexual Character/s

Wouldn’t It Be Nice by pinkskies 36k

Louis goes to pride for the first time and meets a trans girl named Harry, who goes a little too hard and crashes on Louis’ sofa for the night. When he wakes up, she’s gone, and Louis doesn’t expect to ever see her again. Except he does. 

alternatively; Louis gets a job at a diner to pay for college, doesn't have a clue how to tell his parents that he’s asexual, and is almost positive Harry keeps accidentally running into him on purpose.

Talk with me, Walk with me by loulovehome 3k 

"I don't think sex entices me anymore."

AU where Louis and Harry’s relationship develops at the same time that Louis starts figuring out his asexuality.

Like to Keep You Laughing by kikikryslee 12k

Louis gasped. “Are you straight? Oh, I'm sorry, man. You should’ve just told me; I would’ve left you alone.”

“No, no, that’s not it," Harry said. "I like guys. I definitely like guys.”

“OK…”

“Louis, I’m ace.”

Louis snorted. “Kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?”

---

Or, the one where Louis is a frat boy who likes to hook up and Harry is someone who doesn't hook up ever.

Who would’ve thought? By iilarryii 9k

“Do you see the curly haired boy there?” Liam asks pointing across the room where a boy was standing with two girls.

Louis nods, “What about him?”

“Well I think that we should put your acting skills to work. I want to see how good you are,” Liam says smiling droopily. “So I want you to go over there and act like you're his boyfriend.”

Or a story between two boys who believed in love but didn't think that they could achieve it.

Inner Crisis by Neondiamond 5k

Louis calls an LGBTQ+ crisis hotline after coming out as asexual to his friends and family doesn’t quite go as well as he’d hoped. Harry answers his call.

Partners by 2Larry_Stylinson2 5k

Asexual Louis Tomlinson meets asexual Harry Styles at one of his college's queer clubs on campus and they hit it off right away. As they grow closer, however, they discover that their feelings for one another aren't exactly platonic anymore. But they aren't romantic or sexual either. In comes a queer-platonic relationship, brought to you by a game of truth or dare between four friends who were supposed to be studying.

Somebody Get Me Through This Nightmare by lululawrence 11k

“I am not subjecting you to my poor dog in his moment of vulnerability!” Louis cried. “That would be cruel to you, but also to Clifford.” Louis got up and started pacing again like he had been before. “He is so cuddly and honestly is also quite spoiled, and now he probably thinks I’ve abandoned him over this. And I essentially have! I’m serious, Harry, I close my eyes and the visuals of his bald head haunt me. God, how am I going to sleep tonight? I can’t even bring myself to walk back into the house.”

“You are always welcome to sleep on my couch if you need,” Harry offered immediately. “I still don’t think it’s quite as bad as you seem to believe it is, but I’d much rather you be next door than fifteen or twenty minutes away at someone else’s house.”

Louis was flooded with relief. “God, if you really don’t mind, I would really appreciate that.”

now you’re in my life (I can’t get you off my mind) by we_are_the_same 34k

Harry loves romance.

In theory, anyway.

He loves the romantic movies, the careful brush of fingers against the back of a neck, the hand holding and the endless gazes. He loves the possibilities, the tension and the wonder. He loves the idea of falling in love, finding someone to come home to.

In reality, it’s a little different. Because as much as Harry loves the concept of dating, the reality sucks.

making me sweat by honey_beeing 9k

A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.

Give me all of your love (something to dream about) by thetigersdinner 5k 

As his mind drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but think that his life was perfect. There wasn't a single goddamn thing he would change. He had his career, and he had his friends, but most important of all, he had Louis. and Louis loved him exactly the way he was, and that's everything he could ever wish for.

_______________

OR

I couldn't sleep, so instead I wrote 5.5k words of Harry being asexual and louis loving him for it. enjoy!

Peach Blossom Has Just Begun To Bloom by flamboyo 4k

 Thoughts flood in, a mess of how are you this lovely and I'm gonna have to kiss you again and I'm not letting you go, hope you're alright with that, but what comes out of Louis' mouth is: "Shit, I got glitters all over you." * The Pride parade has always been Louis’ favorite event, but this year it gets even better when he happens to kiss a gorgeous, tattooed stranger. Losing sight of their friends, Louis and Harry decide to spend the march together talking about their identity and their pride, and eventually concluding to never let each other go.

@so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @lululawrence @neondiamond @flamboyantommo

(Please @ the authors if you can xx)

[gemsofthegalaxy]

tbh this has been said before. and it is controversial but i sort of want to say it again

the fact that tom n greg may very well be turning out as such classic queerbait where they use it in the marketing, and the storytellers and actors are asked about it and talk about it... and still in the show it's in this nebulous place, where it's fairly clearly told through intense moments, background props, and drug metaphors- yet is still on the cusp of too overt to be undeniable.

and then, like, a good amount of other fans are annoyed as us for caring even a bit about that?

and, i don't necessarily need them to be happy or cutesy. but just because suck session isn't 'about shipping' doesn't mean... that's not still... like, queerbaiting? And. human relationships are part of most stories, and are actually central to Succession.

Tom's relationship to Shiv has been one of his primary roles in the whole show. They get to be acknowledged as having a romantic and sexual relationship that is important and messy and fucked up. this is not notable or seen as "focusing on the shipping", it's just part of a good story- perhaps because they're 'straight'?

and people don't have to like it. it doesn't have to be "the point" of succession. i don't mind people disliking tom/greg, it's the fact that others act like it "can't be queerbait because you can tell they aren't going there, they were never that important and were never gonna make it more explicit than it already is", that's... what makes it queerbait.

wanting clarity of intent and narrative payoff with tom and greg when they are, in fact, used in the marketing and have had seasons of buildup is not 'watching the show wrong' or inherently bad.

[mrfeelbetter]

"Hidden in plain sight " 4/6

In the morning Justin woke up to a thumbing noise. He sat up then walked to his window to see a tried Louis. " I've found the solution" Louis shouted. Justin ran to put his shoes on and down the stairs he went. He went out the door to meet Louis. " How!???" He finally replied. " I did research on the warehouse and who it's previous owner was however the owner before did not leave traces of their identity, I decided to question the landlord of now, on him was old files about the previous owner and allowed me to search through them, it took a couple of hours till I recognized similar hand writing on a paper of agreement to rent the place, I searched for a name but it came down as a fake identity, I was told by the landlord that the previous landlord had cameras on his property, he told me how awful it is to record people, so he took them down but he still had the cameras in a box if i was interested, I went through all the footages to find the date of the agreement, I found a clear image of the mystery person and set the image in a search software and he appeared for a dui, his name is Lennon Alexander Lee. A lonely scientist who was in love with a male coworker but the man he loved was married with wife, from the pain he committed. I came to find out about the story when I researched his office to find a secret compartment under his desk, in a floor board, a letter of confession, addressed to his lover with initials at the bottom. I assume we read the love letter to his dead lover. Jordan Campbell is the name, no time for the details on how I found him. He is buried at a near by cemetery, I have the address for that as well." He said looking at Justin who had a look of shock on his face. "You-You found all that in one night??? Did you even sleep??? " Justin said in a concerning tone. " I rest when the spirit is out" Louis said in a serious tone. *Sigh* ... Louis... we will talk about this afterwards" Justin said. Louis nodded without even listening to what justin said because he had already began route to the cemetery.

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Once there the two boys aimlessly looked for the name, until justin said "over here I found it" Louis jogged over and stood besides Justin. The two boys stared at the old tombstone as it look at them back somewhat menacesingly. Louis snapped out of the trance and handed Justin the letter. Justin looked back at Louis as he gave him a reassuring look. He gluped and began to read it out. As he did he began glowing only when he finished did the glowing pour out of him, then faded. " Omg it worked" Justin said sighing in relief. " Good.." Louis replied having no energy. " I kinda feel bad for this dude" he said staring back at the letter in his hands. "Some things aren't meant to be" Louis said. "That sucks" he said frowning. Just then an idea popped in Justin's head. He began digging with his hands a small hole. " Justin..? Louis said walking over to him. " I think ghost guy would have wanted him to have it " he said covering the hole and patting down the dirt. " That's.. thoughtful" Louis said looking at Justin who smiled back him " nah it's not a big deal." There was a silence between the two before Justin stood up pointing at Louis "RIGHT, you can't just stay up all night and do these kinds of things, this is the last time you're doing this- "justin's voice faded leaving only louis admiring him. He never noticed on how generous and caring Justin was. He wanted to be around him more. Louis laughed a bit leaving Justin confused. " I promise to attempt" Louis said, justin continued to rant all the way to his home. Somehow the strange situation brought them close. The next few months the two hanged out more and more. Playing videos games, watching movies, exorcising ghosts. Even if it was simple small talk they did it together. However something changed, in Louis, there was a lingering knot in his stomach. Unsure he made it his mission to figure out the strange emotion that lingred in him when he was with Justin.

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[herlittlebunnyboy]

i love reading your posts about your love, you seem so in love and devoted to her 🥺 it's so romantic, it gives me hope that one day I'll find that kind of love too!! I hope you both are doing well and are happy 💛

So this is going to be long so i apologize in advance but here we go. Also if you or anyone wants to know more feel free to ask.

It's a complicated thing. We are best friends so in that sense we are closer than most could or would ever be. And while I do love her so so sooooo deeply we aren't in "love" like that. I think we could have been, If I wasn't such a knuckle head earlier on in life and who knows we might be someday. But for now I'm content to be her best friend and her sub. I can't divulge her buisness which sucks because it's half of the story you know?

And I don't want it to come off as us just being "kink dispensers for each other. We do deeply care for each other. We help each other, we listen to each other. We are as close as best friends can be and in some ways closer as you've probably seen me write about on here. At the end of the day regardless of where she is at in our best friend relationship I just don't think I'm ready to "love" love someone yet. Not after some of the stuff I've put myself through with past flames. And she knows, we have talked about it extensively and a plethora of times.

She's amazing though, she's kind and funny and nerdy and above all she's been there for me through so much. She's been a rock for me, someone I know is always there and regardless of how far I drift away in the sea of my life I always end up floating back to her. I owe her more than I could ever put into words but I still think she knows. I think she knows how much I need and depend on her, how much I enjoy and confide in her and how much she means to me.

I've been told before that the way I write blurs lines of love and friendship and admiration. I think that's because those lines are blurred in my head too. So while we aren't in "love" love I think she is the closest thing on planet earth I consider to be a love of mine. Sorry if thats even more confusing but that's the best way I can phrase it? At least right now when I'm still drooling over a couple of photos I recieved of her new under garment haul. She got a matching grey set with like a lace trim and holy fuck. I felt my pupils expand and my heart stop when I opened them. I was given permission to use one as a background on my phone 🥵

[mrstsung]

You know how people dont listen and think a pill will make all the problems go away when actually it's only to help you,not cure you.

Yeah. Make shang tsung more like

"Hey guys i found stuff that may help ease you. It will help ease all your pains and problems."

So no he doesn't say cure. He says eases. And without treatment,tlc,and care. Nobody will truly heal.

Plus making him pathetic (more so liu kang doing so and expecting him to not get pissed at knowing his whole existence is because of petty beef lou had with him FROM ANOTHER TIMELINE LIFE. And never was told,thus once again the cycle continues because you didn't fucking tell him WHY IT WAS BAD,WHAT HE WAS DOING AND WHY HE SHOULD HAVE A CHANGE OF HEART OR CHANCE TO CHANGE?! like liu how can you AND raiden fumble shang tsung by doing the same fucking shit. But somehow liu is worse with this. Because raiden did it to protect the realms. Liu kang does it because he's fucking a petty whore. But i digress. No shang tsung,despite being written like shit. Still is in the right because how can a man under poverty and corruption live like he do? Like you think outworld and edania won't become corrupt just because it look nicer or shao kahn aint a problem?! Ha! Look at real world empires. Yeah,how did they turn out?! Same shit. Just mystical. Nothing changes. Really. Honestly. Liu kang should have stayed dead. I loved liu. Emphasis on LOVED. Now i can't stand this bitch. Especially how they are doing him now. Fr.)

Anyways. Back to shang.

I feel him being good at many trades. But not really a master in them. He's legitimate. But people are assholes not listening to him. Or they dont want him rich,because you know damn well the rich ruling class wouldn't want a commoner to believe they can have good things in life right?! So this in turn shines a light.

No edania,outworld. Isn't actually at peace just because no war. Or shao kahn isn't a problem. No. It becomes its own problem. Like rome. It falls to corruption and greed. Empires fall one way or another.

Down with the fucking bourgeoisie! That's how i see it. Shang was a small part in the people uprising against an already corrupt regime. Kitana was a fucking fool for believing,mileena knew but didn't know how to say it due to they positions. Sindel is revealed to be no damn better than shao kahn or jerrod. In fact,it goes to show all of them are fucking pretty terrible people to the poor. Privilege and class is something that is so skirted by in mk and its kinda interesting that nobody else sees this.

Sure at the end of the day. Vidyagaem. But damn if ya gonna tell a story. There are better ways to do it.

Especially if you add fantasy politics. The point of world Building is to actually build a believable world and people and characters. Not just make it plot convenient for the masses.

See this is why shang tsung is more and more the only fucking good thing left about mortal kombat.

"Shang tsung was right about the gods!?"

*glocks gun*

"You fool! Always has been!"

But seriously. Having him a novice is fine but making him weak for plot to make liu kang "the nicer god" is pathetic and weak writing.

Nah. Shang tsung is supposed to be "that bitch you don't fuck with. Less you wanna die" type of character. This could have been avoided if you were nice to him and he had friendship. Seriously.

You can see and smell the bias from the character.

Which would have been a perfect opportunity to make liu kang dark or evil or something! Like falling from grace like raiden a mirror to "if you aren't careful you become what you hate!" And mirrors shang tsung in that "nah you aint that different than me. You're actually worse"

Like there could have been something epic. Or good guy shang tsung whaaa?! But nope

Nrs just wants to keep same ol same status quo while guising it as something new.

Nah nrs is the quacks. Not shang.

Bite me boon. Suck my nuts.

And honestly,shang tsung deserves better than this shit.

Especially after cary hiroyuki tagawa reprised his role after many years. All for you to be doing this shit again.

Smfh.

Nah i stan shang tsung not because im a shang tsung tsimp.

Nah i stan him because some of these people suck and are fucking mean.

( Especially when again a lot of shit once again can be easily avoided but nope,shitty plot. Also fire god liu fanboys specifically,are mean af. And rude. Hella rude. All because people said they feel bad for shang. Regardless if they personally agree with him or not. It's fucking rude to be an asshole to someone randomly,just because someone feels bad for a bad guy. I thought we were past this shit. Villains are very much loved especially nowadays given how the world be and irl governmental corruption and society be,so what gives?! You mad he got more pu**y than you ever could?! Is that it. You mad because he got more popular than liu kang chosen quack now? Maybe if nrs didn't write liu kang to be an insufferable prick. Maybe people would like fire god liu kang. And again shang tsung to me no matter what kind of life he has,good or bad. He refuses to live in squander. Regardless you could write him many ways. However one thing stands throughout all of them. He's fucking good at whatever he sets his mind to. So to make him pathetic lil welp is ooc and ridiculous af. And pisses me off. And makes me not really care for liu kang. At all. Like he could drop dead in the next game and i wouldn't cry. Same with every other character,i dont really feel anything profoundly with any of them. The only one I'd care for is shang tsung. Because he's the only fucking character that seems to have a good head on his shoulders despite the shitty writing and predicament he was placed in. )

Look this is me venting. Like this is a jab at asinine people,and the game writers. Especially when NRS should damn well do better but they don't. They dont want compelling villains,they want palatable villains. Complacency. And not a morally grey character that is funny enough,honest to god telling the truth. They hate it when the devil is right. But y'all know. Shang knew the corruption of things. But instead of making things actually livable. Nope. They make him a mockery. No offense but that's why it was so easy for him to become a dark sorcerer again. Wouldn't you? Could have been easily avoided. Very easy. Especially if liu was "so damn powerful" enough to prevent it. Its not because he's always this way. No it's because YOU MADE IT THAT WAY! period.

Fellow Shang stans,my shang tsimps. I'm sorry.

Hey at least we got fanfics,hcs,and each other.

Regardless of what form,timeline,no matter how shitty the writing is,no matter how asinine the fans can get. There are people who understand. And whatever you look like shang.

Know I will always love him.

💚🐍- mrstsung