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lenacosse · 3 months

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hello! can you please write tangerine x reader where he and his wife are working on the same mission without knowing it. she has ladybug as her usual partner and they have to pretend to be husband and wife. at some point, ladybug and tangerine are fighting and since ladybug wants a break from it, he’s like « wait, my wife’s coming » and when tangerine turns around its actually HIS wife

What?

pairing: tangerine x reader

cw: violence, strong language

word count: 3,842

(laughing cause this turned into the whole movie, obviously not cannon accurate but i had so much fun writing this)

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"Alright that's me," you say as you zip your suitcase, you were going out to Japan to work on a mission with Ladybug. Tangerine did not know where you were actually going, when you first started dating you didn't tell him your job because it was too dangerous and you didn't want to scare him away and when things got serious between you both you were too scared to tell him because you didn't want to jeopardise things between you both so you fabricated a seamless lie about your occupation and he didn't suspect a thing.

"Same here," replies Tangerine. You walk towards him and put on hand on his bicep the other on the side of his neck, his hands go to your waist.

"Try not to miss me too much," you tease, a playful smirk forming at the corners of your mouth.

"Same can be said for you love." Tangerine winks, you roll your eyes and lean forwards. You press your lips to his and you share a passionate kiss, one that'll leave you longing for more later on when you lay awake thinking of him.

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You arrive in Japan and instantly the whole new world amazes you, Japan was truly impressively innovative and futuristic. But you weren't here to enjoy the culture, you had a very simple mission to do, retrieve something from a train with Ladybug, what could possibly go wrong?

Ladybug answers the call from your operator for the mission, you're both given your code names. You got given Kitty- slightly humiliating you thought but you've had worse.

"Kitty?!" Ladybug complains, "I see you're playing favourites." He says to your operator.

"Oh I'd never," she responds. "Oh and also, you two are a newly wed adventurous couple who are on their honeymoon."

"Are they also complete losers?" You ask.

"indefinitely."

You both get to the train station which is bouncing with life, you walk alongside Ladybug who is talking with the operator about why exactly you two had been picked for the job, something about someone dropping out sick maybe? You weren't really listening.

"Shit." Ladybug says.

"Shit what?" You respond with a sigh, it was always something going wrong.

"I think I lost the key back there, some guy bumped into me."

"I'll get into it, what's the locker number."

"523." Replied the operator.

You get into the locker whilst Ladybug still talks about Carver, you do nothing but roll your eyes at how much he cares he wasn't a top priority for the mission. You gather the items in the locker, the pair of you put in your ear pieces and pack the little bag. You had no idea why half of the things were necessary but it really didn't matter, you were sure time would tell. There was a gun in there, which you wanted to take but your partner was on a no killing strike and wanted to become more peaceful, you thought that was ridiculous considering your jobs but his therapist had been filling his head with nonsense.

"Ladybug!" You grab his attention, ending his useless conversation. "The train.. it's about to leave."

"Oh. Let's go."

The two of you quickly shove your way onto the train, it was a very close call. Immediately you were impressed by your surrounding's, the train, even economy was borderline luxury.

"This place is nice," says Ladybug, nodding his head approvingly.

"Agreed." You respond, you both make your way down the train whilst your operator informs you both of the trains different compartments. Then she tells you what it is you're retrieving. A silver briefcase with a sticker on the handle.

"Briefcase owners are not simple to take from." Ladybug states.

"Can't say I've much experience stealing briefcases." You reply.

"The owners should be in economy class,"

"Owners? Plural. God I knew we should have taken the gun, fuck you and your therapist Ladybug." You tut.

"I was choosing spiritual enlightenment, besides there's two of us, two, hopefully, of them. We'll be fine."

You just sigh in response, the two of you continue walking where you're met with the ticket collector. You look to Ladybug who was the one in charge of the tickets, the prolonged pocket search told you everything you needed to know. You sigh once again pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Shit I think I dropped our tickets with the key,"

"Great! Fucking brilliant."

Another pocket search and Ladybug finds the receipt which the man reluctantly accepts.

"The takeaway from that is from now on I will hold onto important things, got it?"

"Fine by me." Ladybug concludes.

You both continue your walk through economy where you heard an all too familiar voice, the man who you just walked past sounded exactly like your husband. However you didn't see his face because Ladybug was blocking him, nevertheless there was no way it was him, he was on a business trip in London. Immediately that thought leaves your mind as you and Ladybug get to the luggage, you scan over the different bags.

"There's no fucking way were finding this," Ladybug scowls.

"Just did." You reply and grab the case careful of causing attention.

"Great work Kitty,"

"Hm, what's the catch?" You reply, things felt too easy.

"Just get off the train."

You both oblige and Ladybug attempts to conceal the case in his jacket, you would argue that it would only bring suspicion but your only focus was to exit. You both make your way through the different compartments again, your heart was thumping and you felt uneasy, but persevered until you stand at a door to exit.

"Ahh look, maybe my luck has increased," Ladybug says triumphally.

"God I hope so." You respond.

The train slows down and the door opens, on the other side is a very angry looking man with curly hair, a neck tattoo and a white suit. Who is looking at you with a look so intense it makes your skin crawl. Before you know it he is lunging at you and Ladybug with a knife in his hand, you gasp as he stabs Ladybug. The two of them fall back onto a glass door, shattering it and falling to the ground. But as he removes the knife it's revealed that he just got his phone, you sigh in relief and walk into the room they fell into as Ladybug stands up.

"You stabbed me?!" Cries Ladybug, it's a mere second until he lunges at him again. You watch as they fight, you look for a weapon.

You smash a champagne bottle over his head and at the same time Ladybug kicks him, making him stumble back. The comical fight between them continues, the man reveals his motive, something about you two being responsible for his wives death, which is ridiculous because it wasn't true. The man throws his knife at Ladybug who holds the briefcase up for protection, however the knife bounces back and hits the man right in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

"Well, so much for no killing." You say, as you take the knife from his chest and wipe it clean on his jacket. You put it in your pocket for later.

You help Ladybug clean up as you both attempt to figure out who he is with no luck you give up and you set him up on the seat eating a packet of nuts. Hopefully to distract from the fact he was dead, better than nothing you thought.

You and Ladybug split up, your job is to find a table and sit there for when he finds the owners of the briefcase. All the operator knew was that they were twins. Soon Ladybug comes to sit with you, telling you about how the twins aren't actually twins and how he just fought one in the quiet car.

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, we just have to get the case and leave."

"I can't just walk off they know what I look like."

"Well then, I'll get the case you try get off and I'll get past with the case, look at me no one will suspect me. You know this is a very sexist industry, but as of now it has its advantages."

You leave the other way of the train to make it back to retrieve the case whilst Lady bug works on finding a way to exit the train. You go to the place where you stashed the case, you however quickly learn it is no longer there.

"Fuck! For fuck sake. Stupid fucks must've got to it." You rant on as you practically tear apart the room looking for the case. And much to your dismay it is absolutely nowhere to be seen. You pace back and fourth trying to rack your brain on what to do- it was your only upper hand that the twins didn't know of your existence so you couldn't blow that by trying to retrieve the case of off them, you also didn't know what they looked like. Just as you're pacing you get a text message, it was from Ladybug.

'need ur help. i'm cornered.'

You sigh in dismay, but you knew you had to go and help Ladybug with this. So you work your way down the train, checking everywhere for your partner. You hear struggle in the distance so you knew you were getting closer, you brace yourself to walk in.

"Gotcha now, there's no way you're escaping you slithery bastard. Give me the case and you walk away untouched."

"For the last time we don't have the case."

"Yes you fucking do cause I ain't got it."

"Stop. My wife is coming, I don't want her to see this."

"Your wife? What sad sack is married to you."

"She's actually really hot I'll have you know." You walk in as Ladybug says that, you mentally gag.

You freeze on the spot as you see the back of the man fighting Ladybug. For some reason his hair was identical to your husband's hair, the height and build was also the same. But no... you were definitely wrong and simply overthinking. That is until he turned around and you swore you heart stopped momentarily.

"What the fuck?!!" Tangerine says.

You just stare at him as he stares at you, you had absolutely no idea what the fuck to do. How on earth has this happened? Ladybug looks between the two of you, the confusion plastered over his face.

"That's my wife. Not yours." Tangerine says, the expression on his face is unreadable, he didn't look angry.. but he wasn't happy to see you that's for sure.

Ladybug just starts laughing, clearly he doesn't believe it. But he soon stops once neither of you laugh with him. "Wait.. is this true?"

"Yes." You reply.

"You're married to this geezer?!" Tangerine says, he looked like he was going to kill someone, his fists were clenched and his breathing was quick. You couldn't help but let fear wash over you.

"No obviously not- we're on a mission." You sigh trying to find the words to explain yourself.

"I'm so fucking confused right now." Ladybug says, you glare at him and he quickly shuts up.

You lean against the counter and run your hands through your hair, Tangerine just stares at you and you get a proper look at him. He was roughed up, splattered with blood and messy hair. In any other context you'd be drooling over him.

"You're working with him to get the case?" Tangerine questions, crossing his arms.

"...yes," you awkwardly pick your nails, this whole situation was throwing you off, it felt weird between you and Tan now considering basically your whole marriage was a lie. Looking at him you wondered what else you didn't know.

"You lied to me." Tangerine walks closer to you.

"You lied to me." You narrow your eyes at him, standing up straight you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well this is fucking weird," Ladybug says, you and Tan in sync tell him to shut up, and he does.

"We can talk about this later, I need that case." You say.

"No. You're not leaving my side, there's someone else running around here, I can't have anything happening to you."

A sense of relief washes over you as you learn he doesn't completely hate you anymore. Maybe your marriage wouldn't go to crap, but there was absolutely no way you'd be staying by his side like some helpless victim.

"No. I need the case, I can protect myself. And I will, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"(Y/N).." Tan starts.

"No." He just nods in response and passes you his gun, you take it and put it into your pocket, the air is filled with deadly silence. That is until Lemon walks in.

"There you are... oh (Y/N)." Lemon says, he stops dead in his tracks and does a take back. "(Y/N)?!" His face drops and he sends an alarming look to Tangerine who just shakes his head in response.

"What the fuck?!" You look between the two men, you truly couldn't be more taken aback.

Lemon nervously laughs. "Are you enjoying Japan? We had a change of plans, you know work is so unpredictable these days." He looks to Tangerine for help, he just runs his hand over his face whilst sighing.

"She knows everything and she's working with this dickhead." He points to Ladybug who just raises his hand.

"Right... well um great," Lemon falters you found it funny how confused he was, he never was great in awkward situations.

"Okay this was interesting but we've got places to be, come on Kitty."

You take one final glance at your husband who looks extremely stumped and Lemon who just looks puzzled, you weren't sure how the rest of this mission would go but you just knew you couldn't wait for it to be over.

You leave with Ladybug to go find the case again and leave the train, you knew Tangerine would be fine so you felt confident in your decision to leave him. Besides you had a mission to carry out and that you were going to do.

"How come I didn't know you were married?"

You sigh. "Because it is private information, I didn't want to put him in danger."

"He seems lovely.." Ladybug says, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

"He is lovely, you don't know him."

"Neither do you- he's an assassin and you had no idea."

"Shut up. We just need to get the case and get off this stupid fucking train."

You both make it to the first class longue and there the case is, back in its original spot. "That was not there when I looked." You furrowed your brows.

"You mustn't've looked properly."

"I fucking did, ripped the whole place apart."

Before you knew it you were in yet another fight, the Hornet lunged at you making you fall onto the table, you hit her over the head with the case allowing you to get up. It was a messy fight, arms and legs flying around. But here you are with a venomous needle inching towards you throat, you flip her onto her back and pry the needle out of her hand. You inject it into her neck and watch her face drop.

"Being killed by your own methods, that's dark." You watch as blood pours out of her eyes and her throat starts to close over, her struggled gasping and choking fills the area. You get up and watch as she dies, withering in pain.

"Fuck that was close." Ladybug sighs.

"Come on, we need to go."

The two of you make your way back through the train and down to economy. That's where you see Tangerine standing pointing a gun at a girl in pink with a bob. His expression is devasting yet full of a rage you've never seen in your life, it makes your stomach drop. Something has happened. You quicken your pace, Tangerine sees you and lowers the gun.

"What happened?" You ask, he looked borderline psychotic.

"Lemon, she." He points the gun at her, "killed Lemon."

You face drops and you look back to Ladybug.

"He's lying! Please help me, please." The girl pleads. You turn to her and punch her square in the face, knocking her back into the chairs. You punch her again in the throat, the move makes her blackout and you turn back to your husband.

"Fuck this job we need to get off this train."

Ladybug grabs the case and you three walk back the opposite way, ready to exist. Your mind is fuzzy and your head hurts, there's no way Lemon is dead, that reality devasts you. Lemon was like a brother to you, it broke your heart knowing things would never be the same. As you walk out of the train Ladybug doesn't follow you and Tangerine.

"Ladybug?" You look back to see him struggling against the girl in pink. "For fuck sake!"

"Just leave him, come on."

"No. I can't leave him. We need to help him." You walk back onto the train, Tangerine following you.

With much struggle you get the girl in pink on the ground, using zip ties you found in her bag you tie her hands together and force her into the seat. The four of you sit waiting for the next stop. No one uttering a word. A man comes to sit at the table next to you four, he immediately recognises the girl, she tells him his son is dead, his grandson next, yet he was one step ahead of her, so she sits useless and defeated, a look of triumph overcomes you, you wanted nothing more than to slit her throat but you knew she would have later value, so you leave her sitting there wallowing in her stupidity.

The man tells you all his story, you pick up on his wisdom, feeling nothing but trust towards him. So when he tells you all to follow him- bar the girl, you do. He takes you to the bathroom where his son, and Lemon lay. His son turns out is not dead and reaches for his father. Your eyes fixate on Lemon, unlike Tangerine who is leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. Your heart thumps as Lemon somehow yawns? His eyes open and he looks around, extremely confused.

"Am I in hell?" He questions.

"Oh my god!" You gasp, you turn to Tangerine who instantly stands behind you looking at Lemon.

He rips open his shirt, showing his bullet proof vest, where bullets sat, things were piecing together but you were extremely confused as to what exactly happened.

"Oh.. you drank the water." Concludes Ladybug.

"Water? What water?" Tangerine asks, looking to your partner.

"The water spiked with sleeping powder."

All of you go to sit, awaiting the next stop.

"I can't believe you're an assassin." Lemon says. As he sits opposite you.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," You shrug.

"We need to get off this bastarding train, no more being held back." Tangerine says, you could tell he wasn't half with it. None of you were but he was right.

"We need a plan," Ladybug says. You all agree, and the elder comes up with roles for each of you to properly execute the plan.

You go with Lemon to try and control the trains route, Tangerine goes with Ladybug to hand in the case and cause a distraction whilst the elder goes to take on the white death, something dramatic he said about getting his revenge.

"Fuck it's all in Japanese. There was no Thomas episodes in Japanese." Lemon scowls.

"It's fine, we'll figure it out." You respond trying to be optimistic.

"Okay, we just have to slow this down. Fucking stupid thing! Fucking slow down." Lemon curses.

"So far so good." Ladybug says as he approaches you both, "you can stop the train."

"We don't know how to fucking work this shit!" You groan trying to suppress your frustration.

Lemon and Ladybug go back and fourth, you head hurts from listening to them. Suddenly two men come through the door shooting their guns, you all duck down to shield yourselves from the bullets. You and Lemon lunge at the men, taking them down whilst leaving Ladybug to stop the train. One of the men had you up against the wall, hand over you throat choking you, you felt the life slowly draining your body and with every passing second you become more and more weak. You watch Lemon trying to take down two other men, he doesn't know you're being straggled. Just as you are about to accept your fate, Tangerine comes in, knocking the man to the ground and shooting him in the head. You gasp for air your fingers gently caressing your tender throat, Tangerine is instantly at you.

"Are you okay love?"

You nod and he strokes your cheek, a great sense of comfort overrides you, then he and goes to help Lemon take down the other two men. Whilst they do that Ladybug finally figures out how to stop the train. Or so you thought, the manual book flies out the window and the train collides with the one in front, you all grip onto something. Another two men make their way up to the driving cart, which you all in a group effort defeat. Ladybug starts pulling out all sorts of wires which make the slow down and ride right into a wall, sending you all flying forward through the train as it destructs its way through a village. You land laying on a patch of dirt, Tangerine beside you. You heard a gunshot and jump up, you see The White Dead dead with his brains blown.

You two make your way over to where Ladybug, the elder and his son are, not even two minutes later the girl in pink comes with a machine gun, talking about her fate and luck, which doesn't last long before she's hit with a moving vehicle.

"What the fuck..?" You sigh, you look to Tangerine who looks just as puzzled as you. Ladybug goes off with Maria your handler who came to get you both, you decided to stay with Tangerine and the two of you go to find Lemon.

"Can't believe I didn't realise you were an assassin. Seems so obvious now." Tangerine says, taking your hand.

"Yeah well I didn't notice either, besides. I think I'm done with it, today was too messy."

Tangerine nods in agreement, you both find Lemon who turns out was driving the truck that hit the girl. The three of you decide to go home, of course Lemon didn't rest until he found out the ins and outs of your work. You were relieved to know everything Tangerine had ever told you- besides obviously his job was true. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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augustghosts · 1 year

Text

Wasting Water

Tangerine x fem!reader

So uhh… I'm back! But, with something (someone) new! I watched Bullet Train recently and I just couldn’t help myself. I’m so obsessed with this man 🍊 also i’m a sucker for patching each other up after a mission trope so um, I hope someone enjoys this! lmao. I haven’t written in a few months and I'm a lil rusty so if this sucks… don’t even worry about it… also i didn’t proofread this so if you spot any mistakes, spelling or otherwise, let me know!!

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Fem reader. Shower sex. Unprotected sex. Fingering, oral (f receiving), Slight choking but not really, PinV etc etc etc (so minors turn around and leave pls) Established relationship. Lots of pet names. Naughty language, obviously. Mentions of blood and fighting and that. Tangerine being soft with the reader (warning in and of itself.)

“Fuck me,” Tangerine’s deep voice practically bounces off the walls, way too loud for the early hours of the morning. Way too loud for the way her head is pounding right now. He doesn’t see her wince, he’s too busy messing with the cuffs of his shirt. She watches as he unbuttons the white sleeves and rolls the fabric up to his elbows. “That was a fuckin’ disaster.” He finishes,

He finally looks up at her, standing in front of the mirror scrubbing at her hands. The water swirling down the drain turns bright red as it descends. She looks just as disheveled as he does. Dried blood, both their own and otherwise, splashed on their skin and clothes. He feels a pang of guilt as he watches her, he knows she’s upset. The job going so wrong being partially his fault, the argument that ensued on the way back being about him not taking responsibility.

The hotel room is small - the only one left. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, practically right behind her. She looks up at him and his heart twists inside his chest - she looks tired, and sad. He hates it. He opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“Can you get out?” She asks, turning to him. “I’m gonna get in the shower.”

That squeezing his chest hits him again, he tries to ignore it. He nods and sighs, turning to leave. As he does, the large slash on her cheek catches his eye. He stops in his tracks and turns his body fully towards her.

“When did you get that?” He asks, his hand comes up to cup her face. How did he not notice?

“It’s fine. It’s only small.” She sighs, she doesn’t have the energy to push him away.

“It’s fuckin’ not.” He says sternly. His opposite hand came up to her other cheek. Holding her head still so he can inspect her face. The cut looks deep, a bruise already forming around it. She watches him, his eyes soften as they dart across her face.

“You gotta clean that.” He says, turning to dig through her makeup bag which sat beside the sink. He pulls out a washcloth and starts to run it under the sink.

“I was gonna do it in the shower.” She mumbles. “But you won’t leave.”

He sighs again, a habit of his she’s always hated. He turns with the cloth and she steps back.

“Just get out so I can wash up.” She mumbles and tries to snatch the flannel from him. His free hand grasps her wrist, softly - but firmly enough to keep her still.

“Oi,” He holds the cloth out of her reach. “Let me help.”

It’s her turn to feel guilty this time. The pleading look in his eyes made her feel defeated.

“Up.” He points to the counter. She obeys and jumps up to sit on the cold marble. Allowing him to stand between her knees. He’s as gentle as ever, as he always is with her, as he dabs at the wound on her face. She studies him too. His messy curls and furrowed brow. The bags under his eyes. This job literally couldn’t have gone any worse, but at least they were both safe. Something she liked to tell herself when stuff like this happened. At least he was here, alive and breathing. His face inches from hers, his warm hands cradling her jaw. God, he looked good.

When he places the rag down in the sink, she doesn’t hesitate to throw her arms around his neck. He jolts, surprised for a few seconds - his hands squeeze her thighs as he tries to manoeuvre himself to reciprocate the hug, but she’s holding him too tightly. He chuckles, his chin resting on her shoulder as she cradles his head. They both know what this means- I’m sorry and I love you. They had never been the best at communicating with words, unless they were fighting that is. But moments like this they both understand.

“C’mon,” He mumbles into her neck. Placing a kiss there for good measure. “Let’s get in.”

He gestures to the shower. She sniffles into his shoulder and he pats her thighs before pulling away. He messes with the shower, swearing to himself as he tries to figure it out. She undresses behind him and slides past him into the cubicle when he finally gets the water flowing.

“I wanted to do that.” He jokes after he gets his own clothes off, stepping in beside her. “I love undressing you.” He whispers as he watches her. The hot water drips down her face from her hair, cascading down her body. He reaches

for her hips and pulls her in for a kiss. The first kiss in hours, but honestly, it feels like days. Her hands explored his broad chest and shoulders as they melted into each other. The steam that was filling the bathroom helped to cloud their minds, helping to push out the awful memories from the job.

“So gorgeous, darlin’.” He murmurs against her cheek, pressing kisses. His hands travel to her ass, a firm squeeze forcing a moan of his name from her lips. Her back is pressed up against the cold tile. It’s his turn to step under the hot water but he doesn’t really take it in, he’s too busy tickling the skin of her neck with his moustache. His lips travel south as his hands rise up to cup her chest. Another firm squeeze has her laughing breathlessly against his mouth. He kisses her one more time, slowly and deeply. His tongue brushes hers and his teeth latch onto her bottom lip, a small playful tug.

Within seconds he’s on his knees. Her strong, beautiful man is exactly where she wants him, on his knees in front of her. His lips swollen, cheeks flushed, his gorgeous curls soaking wet and sticking to his skin. His big blue eyes watch her as she pushes her fingers through them, pushing them out of his face. His hands knead her hips as he takes in the view in front of him. One hand curls around her knee, encouraging her to lift it and place it over his shoulder.

“Shit, baby.” He practically groans as her pussy is opened up for him. “I can never get enough of you.”

“It’s all yours.” She whispers above him, the shower almost drowning her out. “Please, Tan."

“God, Sweetheart. as much as I love hearing you beg for me. It’s not needed tonight.” He’s as desperate for her as she is for him. When is he not desperate for her? He couldn’t tell you. He groans into her heat as he has his first taste of the night. He uses his thumbs to open her up for him and dips his tongue in teasingly. The warm tip slowly circling her clit, softly applying the amount of pressure he knows she likes. Her knees almost buckle and a breathless moan of relief hits his ears. Fuck, he loves the sounds she makes. And he intends to drag them out of her all damn night. His tongue stays where it is, working her skilfully towards the edge whilst one of his fingers starts to circle her entrance. It pushes slowly inside and he smirks when he feels her clench around his single finger.

“More.” Her fingers pull at his hair as she whimpers. “Please.”

He obviously obliges, after the hard day they’ve had he isn’t in the mood to tease. His cock is rock hard already and the sensation of her warm, wet cunt squeezing the life out of his fingers has him moaning around her clit.

“Like that. Fuck, just like that.” She encourages him as he begins to work her with his fingers. He glances up at her, her head tilted back, her mouth open as she whispers to him. Ap fucking beautiful. “I’m close. Shit, that feels so good baby. Oh my god.”

It doesn’t take long for the world to crash down around her, his name becoming the only word she can remember. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers and his curls in her hands, quickly becoming overwhelming. He chuckles when she pushes at his head.

“Shit, baby.” She’s panting, the steam from the still running shower not helping. She pulls him in to kiss him messily. Her whole body is sensitive and on fire. Her hand wraps around his cock, he tenses and clenches his jaw and she can’t help but press her mouth to the sharp edge.

“You look so fuckin’ gorgeous when you come for me like that.” He says, his voice gravelly. He’s impatient as fuck, her soft hand twisting around his shaft is driving him nuts.

“We’re wasting so much water.” She giggles against his skin.

“Best get out then.” He says, reaching behind her to turn off the water. She opens her mouth to protest but he covers it with his hand before whispering: “I wanted to bend you over the sink anyway.”

She grins behind his hand, he mirrors it when he removes his palm and guides her out of the cubicle. Her still wet hands slide on the marble counter as she grips it. Tangerine stands behind her with a firm grip on her hip, his other hand holding his heavy cock. Positioning himself at her entrance.

“You ready for me, Sweetheart?” He groans as he rubs his head through her folds. She’s nodding desperately when he finally manages to take his eyes off her pussy and look up at her in the mirror.

“Please,” She knows exactly what he wants to hear. “Please fuck me. I need you.”

He smiles, almost wickedly, at how fucked out she already looked. He hadn’t even started yet. They both moan breathlessly as he pushes inside of her as slowly as he can muster. Holding back just so he can see that pleading look in her eye as she makes eye contact with him in the mirror, a whine leaving her lips.

“I know, baby.” He growls as he begins to thrust slowly. “Fuck you feel so good. So tight and so fucking wet for me.”

She loves when he’s talkative like this. He’s still gripping her hip, definitely enough to leave a bruise. A hand snakes around her body to grip one of her tits, he moans behind her as he squeezes her nipple between his fingers. She stretches her hand out behind her to reach for him and he knows exactly what she wants. After the day they had, she just wants to be close to him. He obliges and pulls her to his chest, both of his strong arms wrapping around her.

“You love it like this don’t you?” He asks, his lip’s right beside her ear as he watches her in the mirror. Her hands are gripping his firm forearms as he thrusts into her like it's the last time. Tangerine was nothing if not passionate, especially when they were alone. One of his hands rises to gently wrap around her throat, tilting her head up so he can sloppily kiss her. All tongue and moaning into each other's mouths - it’s glorious. The feeling of his hand squeezing her neck and the sensation of his moustache on her upper lip prompts that fire to begin to smolder in her belly.

“I’m close, Tan.” She whimpers. His grip impossibly tightens on her and he bites into her shoulder.

“Me too, darlin’.” He says against her skin. “Cum for me, gorgeous. I’ll right fucking behind you.”

One of her own hands travels downwards to her clit, Tangerine's eyes widen as he watches her touch herself in the mirror.

“Fuck that’s it. I love watching you like this.” He tilts her head up towards him again, his hand still cradling her jaw. “Cum for me, baby. I wanna see it.”

His words almost act like permission, her body reacting to him instantly. As usual. Her knees going weak and her grip on his arms tightening as she cums on his cock. Her pussy squeezing the life out of him and the feeling of her nails digging into his muscles sends him off as well. His teeth dig into her neck hard enough to definitely leave a mark as he spills inside of her. The sensation of him filling her up making her squeeze around him again. A breathless moan of his name as they both relax. His arms falling to the counter in front of her, his warm body pressed against her back - caging her in. His lips kissing her jaw and cheek, mumbled praises and affirmations. For the first time that day, she finally felt okay.

She almost ruins the moment for herself, thinking about how they will have to get up and do it all again tomorrow. But the sound of her lover's voice asking her what she wanted for dinner snapped her out of it.

“I’m so fuckin’ hungry.” He complained. Standing up straight and running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow didn’t matter, not when she had the most beautiful man in the world standing right here in front of her. She laughs at him and he laughs back, a rare sight reserved solely for her and a few others.

“I gotta take another shower after that.” She says.

Tangerine earns a smack to his chest when he asks: “Round two?”

#bullet train #tangerine bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine fic #bullet train fic #aaron taylor johnson

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inklore · 2 years

Text

of the essence

premise: working alongside tangerine to retrieve something as minuscule as a briefcase should be easy–would–have been easy if there wasn’t history between the two of you and you weren’t at each others necks or annoyed senseless by his need to be right, or your need to have him inside of you.

pairing: tangerine x f!assassin!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected sex, creampie, enemies who are partners who aren’t really enemies but are definitely lovers, tangerine has a big dick this is canon, cocky behavior, banter, public sex (unrealistic dicking in those tight ass train seats), dirty talk, pet names, spanking, mentions of violence and death.

etc: ya girl has booked a one way ticket on the tangerine slut train! sorry i’m late to the ride but i’m here now and i hope you enjoy this!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It was foolish of you to think that there would be any civility between the two of you, that you could actually do this job in peace without him getting on your nerves or you grating at his. “It’s just a quick grab and go, no big deal” your boss had said, and as it always goes that was too good to be true.

“Tangerine will also be there..” she had trailed off after you had accepted, after you had put your eggs into one basket and already started with a game plan; upon hearing the rest of her words you were smashing said eggs with the bottom of your boot in irritation.

The want—need—to deny the job. To tell her to pick someone else because the thought of being near said fruit with a beautiful mustache was not only frustratingly distracting, but the two of you couldn't stand each other.

Not after too many nights spent in tangled sheets and the constant head butting and one-upping the two of you always did—putting your team at risk all because the two of you refused to agree on anything.

But you needed the work, sitting idle for too long made you overthink, made your skin crawl and impulsiveness kick in to the point of destructive behavior.

So as amazing as saying no to this job sounded, you couldn’t afford it.

Thus how you’ve ended up here; in a silent train car across from the one person you’d kill not see again. Trying not to put your nails into his eye sockets from how he’s looking at you and the snarky comments that never seem to end, flowing like an overbearing stream from his mouth.

The more he talked the more your blood boiled. The more your eyes stared at his mouth. The more you thought of events from the past that needed to stay there. Not bombard your brainstem with ideas that had no business being there at a time like this; thoughts that make you think ‘what's the worst that can happen?’

This. This is the worst that can happen.

“Where’s the new bloke?” Tangerine’s head turns to the side, a ghost of a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. The roll of your eyes making that annoying expression spread to an even more annoying grin.

“Couldn’t cut it.” You say passively, grip the book in your hand that you pathetically thought you’d actually be able to read—to be distracted by.

He hums, fingers tapping on the armrest of his seat.

“Couldn’t keep up with ya?”

“Can anyone?”

“Not without effort,” his eyes move in a sweeping motion from your feet to your face. Slow. agonizing to your insides. Annoying. “That’s for certain.”

“Thanks.” You scowl, grumbling under your breath. Bring the book up to your face, try to read any of the words on the page without focus.

“I meant no disrespect.”

“That’s shocking, feeling under the weather today?”

An airy chuckle leaves his lungs and goes straight to the bottom of your stomach. You try to ignore how you can feel him shift in his seat. How you know he’s pulling at his navy suit, making himself more comfortable. Manspreading his legs to the point where there’s no more room between your knees and his. One of his lengthy legs pressed into your inner thigh.

You should have sat in Lemon’s seat when he got up.

Fuck.

“Still can’t take a compliment I see.”

“Still don’t know what a compliment actually is, I see.” You mock, can feel the edge of the paperback digging into your palm to the point of one little bump of the train and you know a paper cut is bound to happen. The bouncing of one of your legs starts, the deep shallow breaths, all signs of your irritation getting ready to bring itself to the forefront. Cause a scene that needed to be avoided right now.

“It was a compliment.”

“A backhanded one.”

You know he’s the one rolling his eyes now by the puff of frustrated air he lets out from behind the book.

And maybe most of this irritation was coming from the fact that he was right. Your last partner was a fool. An incompetent one. Where, yes Tangerine was a fool, more often than not, but he was at least competent and good at his job. The partner you had been assigned didn’t know the difference between a glock and a rifle, an ass from its cheek—he was the definition of new blood, sour blood, a trainee without a clue which is how he ended up in a shallow grave. A welcome blessing to you when a bullet pierced through his chest cavity.

But not everyone was Tangerine.

The two of you may not play nicely while working together but he was damn good at his job and the two of you always got the job done and on time. Even if Lemon screamed at the two of you to stop bickering for half of it.

The reasons why the two of you shouldn’t work together was better than you getting saddled with another idiot.

Annoyance and attraction aside, Tangerine was damn good at his job—too good most times and you’d choose this back and forth over the latter always. Because even through his cocky-knowing-remarks and that annoying raise of his brows he always did that sparked some fuel in your lower belly when the two of you would bicker over right wrong, left right, up down; he had your back, you could trust him not to put a bullet in it or get himself killed.

“Were you the one who shot a bullet in that poor bloke's heart?” The tip of his pointer presses itself into the top crease of your book, pulling it down to reveal his grin. “You can be candid with me,” his lips twitch cockily. “I won’t tell a soul if you got a little homesick for me and had to do it to reunite us, promise.”

You flick his hand away, “as if.” Your mouth falling open to make a show of your gag of disgust, “it would have been a justice for me to put him out of his misery. But now I’m wishing the bullet had changed directory and hit me instead. I’m the one who really needs to be put out of their misery.”

“Oh,” he clicks his tongue. Lips turning down into a frown, “you’ve missed me. You can’t deny it.”

“Deny.”

“You wouldn’t have taken the job if you didn’t.”

“I needed the money. Eating is a wonderful thing.”

“So is our time spent together.” Just as the words slip out you can feel his knee press further into your thigh. See his back slink just a little lower into his seat as he does so. Eyes cast down to where the heat from his knee and your thigh is causing your nerves to clench up—to go haywire.

“It’s a waste of time.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“Would think there was something wrong if you didn’t.”

Before you can pretend to read the next sentence from your book, before you realize he’s reaching out for it, he snatches it from your grip and tosses it in the seat next to him with ease—leisure—as he scoots forward, his knee following suit and pressing itself at your covered center. The intake of breath that fills your lungs at the swift friction as he does so frustrates you for a different, more dangerous, reason.

The back of his palm wrapping itself around the back of your neck to bring you forward with him, nose to nose. Your scowl deep and threatening.

“From what I remember correctly, you didn’t think it was a waste of time to have my cock inside of you the last time we found ourselves partnered up.”

“Things change. I got smarter.”

“Oh you’re already smart, love. We know it’s not that.”

“Fuck off.” You try to pull yourself from his hold but the more you tug the tighter his grip becomes, and the more your insides melt and make your underwear slick.

“As much as I love this little game of ours, time is of the essence. I’d love to have you riled up and holding a knife to my throat but we’re on a tight schedule.” With more added pressure he has your lips centimeters from his, the warm puffs from his breath and deep rumble of his accent making your mouth buzz and draw in like a moth to a flame.

Except this flame is annoyingly addicting—to his mouth and that annoying knockoff pornstache above it, that golden chain that makes your mouth water at the remembrance of it dangling over your face when his weight is on top of yours—and always leaves you in a bigger mess than you started with.

But it’s a flame you clearly aren’t strong enough to turn from.

Because when he says, “We have about thirty minutes before Lemon comes back, before the train stops and people fill the car. So stop being a brat and take what we both know you want.” Your insides go from melting to liquid lava that seeps down to your core and singes your pussy until it’s throbbing—and denying the reality of it would be as idiotic as what you do next:

Wasting no time in climbing into Tangerine’s lap, the huffs of frustration and growls mixing together as your mouths come together and teeth sink into lips, bites turn into tears, and nails dig into clothes until you can only feel skin underneath the beds of them.

His mouth is all over your neck—fingers having already torn at the button up and tossed it to the dirty floor, your bra torn and beside it—tongue running along your collarbone to the column of sensitive flesh that he sinks his teeth into. The friction of his mustache leaves a burning trail along the way. Making your head fall back and breasts press to his chest.

His fingers make quick work of the mechanics of your jeans, helping you maneuver out of them in a way that takes little effort and keeps you pressed to him; keeps your fingers in his hair tugging and pulling, keeps you rocking against his hardness that presses full and thick against his slacks. His mouth still on your skin, refusing to let go.

When his pointer loops itself into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side, his knuckle pushing into your wet folds and moving along your aching clit, a hum of approval is kissed against your chest.

Tangerine’s chin digging into the top of your breast as he looks up at you with a smirk that only makes you whimper now, “knew you missed me.”

“Shut up.” You want it to sound meaner, argumentative, but it slips out attached to a moan as his knuckle presses circles against your clit. Your legs shaking around him. Nails digging into his scalp. “If I admit it will you fuck me already?”

“You know I’ll give you anything you want, you need only ask, love.” The grin on his lips before he presses them to yours in a rough kiss of passion, and lust that burns so deep you don’t remember where or how it began; makes something ethereal swoop in your stomach. Makes your fingers move faster than lightning to unbutton his slacks, his large arm holding your back tightly as he lifts up to pull himself out.

To have his cock on full display and in his palm. His large hand looking small compared to the thickness of length, of how heavy he looks and feels. A low groan slipping from his parted lips, “love when you watch me. But-”

“Time is of the essence.” You repeat his earlier words, don’t think twice in moving his hand away and grabbing his warm shaft in yours. Lining it up at your entrance and sinking down on—too fast, too quick—his thickness opening you with a burning stretch that has you swallowing down a hiss, eyes clenched, body bowing forward, head pressed against his.

A simultaneous “fuck” leaving the both of you.

“Missed you.” You breathe, give yourself a minute to acquaint yourself with his size again. To remember how it feels to be so full.

“Would think there was something wrong if you didn’t.” He repeats you this time, your matching smirks molded together by lips and tongue as he takes your mouth. Kissing you like he fucking invited the act.

And then you’re moving, your hips gyrating back and forth as Tangerine’s palms at your ass guide you. A too slow of a pace set by him wanting to savor the moment, but only makes you want him more. The slow gyrate soon turns into you bouncing on his cock, your cunt making an obnoxiously wet squelch each time you drag it up and down his length.

The train car filling with sounds of skin, breaths, and moans as you ride him. As he slaps your ass, as he bites at the top of your breast. His hair falling out of place and over his eyes. Your body ablaze. Marks dug into the side of his neck, bruises littering your hips, chest and chin rubbed raw from his stache. The two of you getting completely lost in each other, forgetting everything but this; the mission, the arguments, the tension, the frustration coming out, seeping through, finding a home in the way you fuck, kiss, are annoyingly addicted to the fire that burns between you.

That gets harder and harder to ignore the more time spent apart. The more time you force yourself to hate him when your insides are telling you to shut up and fuck him.

Each moan you let out, the next louder than the last, Tangerine swallows down. Sucks down with how he plays with your tongue—bites down with the sweet nips he gives your lower lip.

“Forgot how pretty you sound,” he grunts against your chin. “And how fucking beautiful these things are.” His palm engulfs your left breast to squeeze and pull the nipple in between his swollen lips.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Look down to watch his half lidded eyes stare up at you, to watch the bruises he sucks onto your supple flesh. That perfect strand of hair falling over one of his eyes to make him look even more like a sexy-tortuous-asshole. “Forgot how much you talked during this.”

“Forgot how much you liked hearing it.”

You begin to shake your head, a retort ready at the tip of your tongue, a loud “ahh” replacing it as he delivers a hard bite to your nipple.

“You can lie to anyone you need to. Just not me.” Your breast feels like it's on fire, the trail of saliva he leaves behind doing little to cool the burning flesh. “I see you.” He grunts against your chest, your neck, the apex of your jaw.

“Yeah?” You swallow down a moan, nails like talons dug into the concrete of his shoulder. “What do you see?”

“A strong,” his hips thrust up, shocking you forward. Smooshing your chest to the open skin of his blue dress shirt, his skin just as hot as yours. “Powerful,” another thrust. “Woman,” another. “Who wields a knife just as good as she takes a cock.”

A chuckle breaks through your string of moans, rattling your shaking chest. “You really need to work on your compliments.”

“Am I wrong?”

You hum, whimper when you feel the pad of his thumb bring itself against your clit. “No,” you shake your head. “Never wrong. Annoyingly.” You add the last part like a gospel of truth. A truth you’d forever hate and love on the same string that has you about to come on his cock.

“There’s my smart girl.”

You hate how those stupid words make you clench around him, how they make you moan and move faster against him. How your legs start to shake, fingers digging deeper into the meat of his shoulders.

How when you both finish it’s at the same time, perfectly insync, your bodies working together, wordlessly proving how well the two of you are together—in so many irritating ways.

Once the two of you start to breathe normally and you feel the train come to a slow stop, you’re standing, righting your clothes in the reflection of the windows and going back to normal. As if it never happened.

The way it should be.

The way it always goes.

That look of irritation trying to cover the sex-flush your skin still has, as you bend down to grab your book he had tossed earlier. Tangerine’s wrist coming to wrap around yours to pull you to his chest, you think it’s some after sex sweetness he’s showing—it wouldn't be the first time—but then you hear Lemon’s voice and feel him brush past you and something inside you deflates a little.

The tiniest bit.

But Tangerine, being the suave asshole that he is, doesn’t let that deflation stay flat for long. “If time wasn’t of the essence I would have made you come three more times on my cock. Since you like to disappear on me, I need to take all I can get from you.”

“What? Do trains no longer have bathrooms?”

His chuckle makes the slightest of smirks spread across your teasing face, “ooh, this time I’m going to make you work for it. Beg me.”

“That’ll be the day.” You snort, pulling yourself from his grip with ease as you sit back down in your seat. Ignoring the feeling of exhilaration you get from his come leaking from you and staining your underwear.

“Or the next,” he looks at his watch, shrugs and fixes his suit as he sits across from you, “hour. Give or take.”

Game on.

#tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine imagine #tangerine one shot #bullet train smut #tangerine fic #aaron taylor johnson smut #tangerine x f!reader #bullet train fic #tangerine #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson

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feralforfruit · 2 years

Text

Countertop Whispers

A/N: I am writing this on a whim at 8am and I legit created this blog at 6am. I am unhinged and these hours are unholy. We are all here for the vibes and I decided to take matters into my own hands because I have an AA in English that I need to put to use. And this is going to be short btw. You fic writers always tease me like this so this is payback for sure. Xx

Warnings: if you don’t like sex with fruits, I suggest scrolling. NSFW, idek what else this is my first time doing this so please be kind.

Pairings: Tangerine x fem!reader

You hear the shaking of keys and the turning of the door knob of the front door. You pause your mixing, “Hey, my love! I’m in the kitchen!”

He sighs as he sets his keys down and hangs up his coat, releasing all the pressure of today’s hit job as he slumps down on the couch. Blood is sprinkled over his white button down. He rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons the top to reveal his shiny, sweat covered chest.

You look at him, tilting your head sympathetically. You tighten your apron and shake off the bit of powdered sugar you have on you. You grab a cup of iced water and walk over to the living room where your husband is practically meditating in silence. He notices you get closer and he opens his eyes with a glint of relief.

You sit next to him and hand him the cup. His mustache lifts ever so slightly as he sips on the refreshing drink. He pants after he gulps it down, placing the cup on the coffee table coaster. He looks at you lovingly. “Darling, you have no idea how good you look right now,” he says as he grabs your cheek and places a kiss on your temple.

“And you look like a mess but I believe you look sexiest like this,” you say to him while smirking sweetly as his breath hitches at the remark. “Making some cupcakes, wanna help me, handsome?”

“Too knackered to help, love, but I’ll definitely watch.” He says softly as he places another kiss but now below your ear. You giggle at the tickle of his mustache before you get up to continue with your sweetest of hobbies.

Tangerine takes his seat on one of the stools directly across from you on the kitchen island. He admires your dedication to perfecting your baking skills, and definitely has no complaints considering how delicious everything you make is. Usually, on every Friday night, he would always make time to watch you do your thing. He would chat with you about how your days went, what happened at work, how Lemon is doing, all while taste testing everything you gave him. Sometimes he offers to help you out when you needed an extra hand. But tonight, his mind is wandering into a place that makes him grateful that the countertop is covering his lower half.

He can’t get enough of you in that apron. It is wrapped so tightly around your curves that he wishes it were his hands instead. The sounds of your hums put him into a blissful state and it is so cute to watch you sway to the music in your head. The bit of flour on your nose makes him want to kiss it clean. You are used to him staring at you while you bake but right now his eyes are burning right into your hips.

He stays like this for awhile up until you finish mixing up some buttercream frosting. You sigh happily as you grab some with the tip of your index finger and bring it to your tongue. You suck on it for a moment and moan sweetly at the taste. Tangerine’s breath has grown heavy and the tightness in his trousers is becoming unbearable.

“Come to think of it, love, I reckon I would like to help out a bit.” Tangerine slowly walks around the island and stands behind you with his hands on his hips, still looking so dominant as he waits for your command. You squeal at his willingness, “Ahh, yes! Okay, here is the cutting board with some chocolate. Cut it into little pieces for me, will ya?” You peck his cheek and he blushes as he goes to wash his hands before grabbing the knife and dicing up the chocolate.

He is not exactly sure how small you want it cut so he pauses and asks, “This to your liking, love?” You look over to him and say, “Oh honey, I’m sorry, let me show you how it needs to be.” You grab the knife from his hand and slide in front of him, your ass brushing against him as you position yourself to where he was.

He hisses quietly at the contact then bites his lip. He thoughts run wild so he gets an idea and takes this chance to grab your waist from behind and rest his head above your right shoulder to look over it. Internally, you’re swooning at the position, feeling your heart skip a beat. You try your best to focus on slicing the chocolate while his thumbs rubs circles into your back, and you’re struggling not to moan at the sensation.

Tangerine moves his lips to the side of your ear and whispers, “Oh I see how it’s done. You do that so good, baby.” You shiver in response to his praise. “My girl is so good with knives, ain’t that right?” He pecks softly at your neck and you can’t help but stop your movements from your legs beginning to weaken at his words.

“Love, why’d you stop? Don’t you want to finish what you started?” he says as you whine, arching your neck back to be exposed to his affection. His lips continue moving on to the sweet spot below your ear as he starts to lift his left hand from your waist, to your beating chest, moving on to your neck, gripping it ever so slightly.

“I’m fucking starving, and you’re going to be my dessert, darling.”

—

part 2 is up!

#tangerine #tangerine fic #tangerine x reader #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine fanfic #tangerine smut #bullet train smut #bullet train fic #my writing #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train imagine #lemon and tangerine #bullet train x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train

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peachyspaceslvt · 1 year

Text

The Blood That Spills Over

Tangerine x f!reader

cross-posted on ao3

summary: You see the way he looks at the gnarled skin on his neck in the mirror. It’s a reminder of his own mortality. The fragility of life and how quickly it can be ripped away. He’s angry at himself, for almost dying. Almost leaving you.

You never touched it, you avoided even looking at it because it was a reminder for you too. A reminder that you nearly lost him.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, injury, smut (minors DNI), no use of y/n, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, blood kink sorta??

a/n: I woke up wanting to write some angst about Tangerine getting shot/having a scar and it evolved into this. I hope you enjoy the absolute filth it turned into.

You had never felt fear as paralyzing and heart-wrenching as you had when you thought you were going to lose Tangerine. You had never seen blood pour out of a person the way that it had from him that day. The crimson liquid stained your skin and clothes as it cascaded through your fingers in your attempts to stop it. The desperate pleas falling from your lips were drowned out by the violent thundering of your own heartbeat, racing with adrenaline.

And by some fucking miracle, by the grace of whatever omnipotent power may have resided above you, he survived, the bullet narrowly missing a major artery.

That was three months ago now but the events of that day still hang over you both like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Tangerine wakes you up in the nights screaming and thrashing, plagued by nightmares. You don’t tell him, but so are you. Images of the blood welling up between your fingers, washing over you both. Lemon has to drag you away from Tangerine’s body.

No, you don’t tell him. You see the way he looks at the gnarled skin on his neck in the mirror. It’s a reminder of his own mortality. The fragility of life and how quickly it can be ripped away. He’s angry at himself, for almost dying. Almost leaving you.

Sometimes he wonders if that’s what kept him here. The thought of leaving you alone being some sort of fucked up saving grace. He remembers what an absolute vision you were when he finally came to after it happened. Haloed in light, clinging to him like you were terrified to let go.

His fingers brush over the angry-looking scar. You never touched it, you avoided even looking at it because it was a reminder for you too. A reminder that you nearly lost him.

You had never felt a love that consumed you the way that your love for Tangerine did. It was intense and it terrified you down to the bone. When he fucked you it felt like something akin to what you imagine experiencing religious ecstasy must be like. It made you feel truly depraved, he had ruined you and you knew in his twisted mind that he got off on knowing no one could hold a candle to how brightly you burned for him.

And although you hadn’t lost him, the possibility of it had rattled you down to your very core.

The two of you have attempted to regain some normalcy back in your lives. If you could have even called it that before anyway. You return to a regular office job, as if your for-hire assassin lover didn’t nearly die right before you on a blundered, set-up mission merely months ago. You come home, make dinner, pretend to be content with the domesticity of it all.

The most fucked up part of it all was that despite everything, Tangerine was itching to go back to work with Lemon again. Who were you to stop him? He’d been this way before you, before getting shot in the fucking neck, if that didn’t change him what would? He promised he’d take low-risk jobs, and do everything in his power to be safe and careful. You trusted him, and you trusted Lemon. They looked out for each other. You know Lemon took almost losing Tangerine harder than you did, even if he didn’t show it. He would keep him safe.

So, you let him.

Right now you’re sitting in your tiny living room, busying yourself the best you can. Tangerine left for a job two days ago. So here you are waiting, helplessly, doing your best to keep yourself from worrying. The sun is low in the sky, bathing your apartment in golden hues. Music hums rhythmically in the background as you tap away on your laptop. You’ve distracted yourself so well, in fact, that you don’t even hear the rattling of keys unlocking the front door or Tangerine’s heavy footsteps through the foyer.

“Hello, darling.” You jump at the sound of his voice and turn to look at him.

There’s a rather nasty gash on his cheek and his lip is busted. He’s holding his arm with one hand, the other holding a ratty duffel bag. His hair looks as if he poorly attempted to fix it right before coming inside. He’s breathing heavily and he looks exhausted.

“Tan.. what the fuck!” You’re on your feet in an instant, taking the bag and tossing it aside, and grabbing at his face to assess him. “Are you okay? Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, love. I’m okay, I’m fine.” He leans into your touch, body looming over you as he relaxes. His free hand snakes around your waist.

“You’re bleeding!” You notice as you lean back to observe him again. There’s blood running down the arm he’s holding, running between his fingers.

“Just got clipped, I’m alright. I promise.” The hand at your waist travels up to cup your face and his thumb rubs over your cheek to assure you. “Didn’t have time to clean myself up, didn’t want to waste a second getting back to you.”

“Fuck okay, I’ll be right back.” You take his hand and lead him to the kitchen and urge him to take a seat at the bar. You nearly run to the bathroom, gathering up a first aid kit and quickly returning to his side.

“You don’t have to do this, really darling,” he says quietly as you wet a cloth with some antiseptic.

“Shut up, let me take care of you, okay?” You whisper, dabbing his cheek with the cloth. “You said you’d be careful.” The words come out more pleading than you intended, but seeing him hurt again was so frightening.

“This was me being careful. You should see the other fuckin’ guy,” he grunts out as you clean his lip. Normally, he would hate being babied like this, but he knew this was your love language. And honestly, the thought of not coming home to you made him cherish the gesture even more.

“I probably don’t want to,” you laugh.

“No, probably not. He’s dead, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Good.” You find a sick satisfaction in knowing Tangerine is willing to kill to stay by your side, that he’d kill for you.

“Not gonna let some bastard take me away from you, sweetheart.” He turns his head and kisses the hand you’re using to apply ointment to his cuts.

“But you almost did,” you murmur, pulling your hand away. “You almost did and you still keep going back.”

He doesn’t reply, merely fixing you with a look that says I’m sorry, but don’t do this.

You start unbuttoning his shirt so you can clean the wound on his arm but he swats your hands away gently, telling you he can do it himself.

“I don’t think it's deep enough to need stitches,” you say, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm once you deem the wound clean enough.

“Told you it wasn’t so bad,” he says without looking up. You reach for him and run a hand through his tousled curls, the other coming up to touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, humming as he closes his eyes.

“Tell me how you did it,” you whisper softly.

He furrows his brow and looks up at you.

“Did what?”

“How you killed him.”

“Do ya really wanna know that, love?” He questions, his blue eyes burning into your own.

You think about the alternative and decide that yes, you do want to know, and nod.

“Nearly turned his face to a pulp with my knuckle dusters. Thought about stompin’ his bloody brains out but I didn’t wanna get it on my shoes.” A smile tugs at his lips as he says the last part. “So, I unloaded the entire fuckin’ gun into his face.”

You trail your hands down from his face, your fingers gliding against his skin, pausing briefly when you reach his neck. Tangerine’s breath hitches, watching you beneath his long lashes.

“I woulda fuckin’ tore him to pieces if it meant I got to come back to you alive,” he mutters darkly.

His words stir something within you and your hand slips to his neck, feeling the rippled skin of his scar. It’s the first time you’ve touched it. It sends a shiver through you both and his hand flies up to your face, fingers wrapping around the base of your skull as his palm cradles your jaw. You feel something damp against your cheek and realize he’s gripping you with the same hand he was holding his arm with earlier, the blood still wet and smearing over your skin.

Tangerine jerks his hand back when he notices.

“M’sorry, love,” he apologizes and reaches for the cloth but you stop him. His eyes meet yours and the sight of you causes desire to surge through his veins. You’re staring at him, your pupils blown and eyes brimming with lust. The sight of his own blood smudged across your face sparks a new level of devotion within him.

His lips find yours in an instant, swallowing you up into a searing kiss that sucks the air straight out of your lungs. You’re crawling into his lap, hands clinging to his bare shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself, and his large hands rest on either side of your waist.

“Christ, you like that?” he breathes as he breaks the kiss. “You’re fuckin’ sick, darling.”

“You made me this way,” You pant, kissing your way down his jawline. You place an open-mouthed kiss at the base of his jaw before tracing your tongue along his scar. Tangerine is unable to bite back the moan it draws out of him, the sound driving you to nip at the distorted flesh. He liked it.

It rouses something primal inside of you, the feeling of taking back the thing that almost took him from you and using it to bring pleasure to him. Tangerine shudders as you kiss and suck around the scar. For so long you avoided it, couldn’t even bear to look at it - seeing it only as a reminder of sorrow. Now though, you realize it doesn’t signify a painful memory, no, it’s a reminder that he fucking lived.

His grip on your hips becomes bruising, pulling you down to meet his growing erection. You release his neck from your teeth and pull back, sliding off of his lap and out of his grip. He’s leaning back in the chair, shirtless and chest heaving, you feel like you’ll go mad if you look at him any longer so your gaze travels down to his trousers. You can see his cock straining against the fabric, your hands going straight to his belt. His own hands reach for the hem of your shirt, sliding the fabric up and forcing you to stop toying with his belt to pull your shirt over your head. While you’re ridding yourself of the garment, you hear the clink of his belt hitting the ground and look to see that he’s already removed and tossed it aside. His lips curl into a smirk when he notices that you were already without a bra.

You move back over to him, tucking your hand beneath the elastic of his underwear to free his cock, gliding your hand along the warm, velvety skin. He reaches for your chest, running his hand from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, ghosting over your nipple and leaving a faint trail of crimson down your skin. His eyes flicker from yours to the near-dried blood painting your torso, hunger and arousal brewing up inside of him.

You give his length a few slow pumps and then drop to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes as you start to press tender kisses along his shaft.

Tangerine watches you, his lips parted and cheeks flushed pink as he gazes down at you, the final shred of sunlight painting an orange glow around him. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and all you want to do is worship him.

So, you finally take his cock into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the swollen head. Tangerine grunts, it’s deep and guttural, his hips bucking slightly. You feel him pressing against your throat, fighting back your reflexes at the intrusion. His large hand comes forward to thread his fingers through your hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” he rasps, “choking on my cock.” You reach one hand up to grasp his thigh, the other wrapping around his length as you release him with a ‘pop’.

You lick a stripe along the underside of his cock, feeling the veins with your tongue and using your hand to stroke him. The sound is wet and obscene and drives him to tighten his grip on your hair. Then, you swallow him up again, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head down to take him deeper. You take a deep breath through your nose, more saliva leaking down your chin with every drag of his dick. He twitches in your mouth and you hum in response, feeling your own arousal pooling in your underwear.

“Fuckin hell I’m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that,” Tangerine breathes out shakily and pulls you off of him. “I’m savin’ that for you sweetheart.”

With his hand still tangled in your hair, he pulls you up to him and captures your lips again with his in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His tongue is pressing into your mouth and you meet it with yours. His mustache tickles as he kisses you, the bristly hairs almost becoming abrasive. His big hands are gripping your face and you feel him nip at your bottom lip, dragging his teeth along the pillowy skin.

The way that he kisses you leaves your head swimming, and your heart fluttering in your chest. It’s divine and delicious.

He pulls away, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin and swollen lips. In a flash, he’s on his feet, using his body to pivot you both around and back you up against the kitchen island.

“You really thought I wouldn’t do everything in my power to come back home to this?” He asks as his hand ghosts over your clothed cunt. You gasp when his palm presses against your clit, feeling the way he pauses there for a moment. Your hips grind forward in search of friction and he pulls his hand away to slide your pants and underwear down your legs.

You toss the garments aside and haul yourself up on the counter, grabbing at Tangerine’s face to pull him back to your mouth. He slots himself between your legs and you feel him run his fingers between your slick folds, collecting your juices and reaching down to his cock. His head prods against you, sliding up over your clit and causing you to shudder.

“I’d kill a thousand men if it meant I got to come home and bury myself in this perfect cunt,” he grunts as he presses forward, the head of his cock sliding into you.

You throw your head back as he fills you, leaning back onto your hands as he buries himself to the hilt before slowly pulling back out to the tip.

“Fuck, Tangerine,” you whine his name as he rolls his hips into you again. His jaw is set tight as he watches himself disappear inside of you, the slick sounds echoing through your kitchen.

You push yourself up off of your hands and wrap your arms around him, pressing your body into his. Your legs come up to tangle around his backside and his hands are gripping your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises in the morning. You don’t care, all you can think about is him and how fucking good his cock feels rutting into you.

You turn your attention to his neck, biting the skin of his scar and you hear him growl - hips picking up an even faster pace. His hand reaches between you, coming up to wrap around your throat and he pushes you back, your back meeting the cold marble of the countertop.

“Never gonna leave you, darling,” he moans, his grip on your throat tightening. Tears prick at your eyes, the lack of air dizzying. “You know that, right? Ain’t no one else gonna make you feel this good.”

“No one, no one,” you sputter out, his grasp loosening.

You’re crying, salty tears streaming down your cheeks and coating your lips. Fucking sobbing because it feels so good and because you can’t imagine never getting to feel this good again. Never getting to hold him in your arms again, never feeling so full of him or the way his cock presses against your walls as it drags deliciously in and out of you.

He rocks forward, pressing his chest to yours as he folds himself over you. You’re gripping his forearm so hard you fear you may break the skin

“Fucking,” you rasp, “fucking love you, so much. Don’t ever wanna lose you, lose this.”

You feel a low rumble in his chest as he fucks into you fervently. His fingers find your clit, swollen and begging for attention. The pressure in your abdomen is building, your body spasming under his touch.

“Let me see how good I make you feel,” he croaks. “Lemme watch you cum.”

The sensation of his cock filling you, the veiny length rubbing against your sensitive walls, and his fingers tightly circling your clit send your orgasm rippling through you. Your cunt spasms, squeezing and clenching around his cock. You’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to stifle your moans, the pain causing his hips to stutter, his cock jerking inside you.

Suddenly he’s hauling you up off of the counter, pulling his cock out of you in order to turn you around. A strong hand on your back shoves you forward, bending you over and pressing your front against the countertop.

“So good for me,” he growls, licking the shell of your ear as he rocks his hips into you once more. He’s chasing his own orgasm at a merciless rhythm. The new angle has his cock slamming into your g-spot, another climax beginning to creep up on you.

Your second orgasm hits you violently, your legs threatening to collapse as pleasure surges through you in waves. Your cunt clamping down on his cock has his orgasm washing over him as well. He rolls his hips into you one final time, buried to the base of his cock, pressing deep inside of you. You feel the pulse of his cock as spurts of cum coat your walls. His teeth sink into your neck as he rides out his climax, his breath fanning over your skin when he lets go.

“Tangerine,” you whisper his name as he lays still above you, his weight pressing you to the surface below.

“Mmm?” He stirs, kissing your neck and the marks he left behind. He pulls his softening cock out of you, lifting himself off the island.

“Think I need a shower,” you sigh, still feeling the post-orgasm euphoria.

“Me and you both, love,” he laughs. “Fuckin’ got my blood smeared all over ya, nasty little thing.”

“Fuck off, you liked it too, you absolute freak.” You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you push yourself up. He helps you off of the counter, letting you steady yourself before pulling his pants back up and handing you your shirt.

“Be nice to me, might just have ya again in the shower,” he mumbles lowly in your ear.

“I was supposed to be taking care of you,” you remind him.

“I think fuckin’ me is taking plenty good care of me, darling.” You look up at him, his mustache curling up as he smirks down at you.

“Ya know, I meant what I said,” Tangerine says suddenly as you’re massaging shampoo into his scalp.

“What was that?” You pause.

“That I wasn’t ever gonna leave ya,” he tilts his head back, relaxing against your body. You’d managed to convince him to take a bath instead of a shower. You place a kiss to his temple and he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I know,” you smile. And you mean it.

Something shifts in you both. Tangerine’s nightmares grow less frequent with each day, and you find that you’re no longer haunted by the images of him from that day. You worry less when he’s off with Lemon, knowing he’d claw his way out of hell to get back to you if he had to. That he’d spill the blood of a hundred thousand men to get to you. This is your twisted pleasure, knowing the lengths he’d go to in order to remain by your side.

He knows this, of course. You had wanted all of him, the darkest, sickest parts, and he had given them to you. Raw and tarnished, turning your entire perception of love up on its head. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine fic #bullet train smut #tangerine imagine #bullet train fic #smut #reader insert #fem reader #reader smut #peachys fics

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kgficz · 9 months

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#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine gif #bullet train imagine #tangerine imagine #tangerine and lemon #bullet train x reader #bullet train fic

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simpingforclaudette · 1 month

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bullet train characters and story ideas i have for them

cw: canon-typical violence, aus, darker topics & sexual themes. more details below.

includes: shigeru kimura, yuichi kimura, lemon, tangerine & the hornet.

shigeru kimura

one) [NSFW, violence & gore] a prequel fic in which reader and shigeru have an on-and-off romantic fling. reader is also an assassin. after a job gone wrong left them severely injured, they call shigeru, who picks them up and patching them up at a motel. they end up bathing and sleeping together.

two) [NSFW, nudity, sexual themes, shibari, soft maledom] shigeru being a shibari & body painting freak (affectionate <3).

three) [SFW, fluff, mild hurt, fluff & comfort] shigeru comforting reader during the night, when they’re having an insomnia episode.

four) [NSFW, mild violence, mention of blood, afab! reader, pussy eating] vampire au where shigeru drinks reader’s blood via their thigh and pussy.

five) [NSFW, mention of blood] vampire au where shigeru feeds the reader his own blood.

six) [SFW, fluff] silly scenario where shigeru is jealous but acts like he isn’t. but the reader can see through him.

yuichi kimura

one) [NSFW, mild sexual content, nudity, intimacy] reader and yuichi cuddling and talking when it’s late at night and it’s raining outside and they’re both naked. lol.

two) [NSFW, sexual themes] yuichi and reader having sex in the shower.

three) [SFW, polyamory relationship with lemon, slice of life, no plot just happy vibes] yuichi, lemon and reader co-parenting wataru & having the time of their lives.

four) [SFW, fluff] reader and yuichi doing each other’s nails and makeup for funsies.

the hornet

one) [NSFW, afab! reader, non-consensual drugging, kidnapping] hornet drugging and interrogating reader for a job, then giving them aftercare(?)

tangerine

one) [NSFW, implied murder & violence, sexual themes] recently widowed reader having an affair with tangerine and suspecting him of killing their late partner.

two) [NSFW, mention of prostitution & escorts, crossdressing, sexual themes] tangerine crossdressing and posing as a male escort for a job, meeting reader, a client, and ending up being a little distracted.

three) [SFW, vague mention of violence, flirting + sexual innuendos] journalist reader interviewing an incarcerated tangerine. they end up flirting.

four) [NSFW, sexual themes, bondage] one-night stand gone wrong after reader accidentally discovers that tangerine’s a vampire. a very thirsty one at that.

feel free to let me know your thoughts and ask for more details in the comments if you’re interested.

#bullet train #bullet train fic #tangerine #shigeru kimura #yuichi kimura #lemon #the hornet bullet train #bullet train x reader #yuichi kimura x reader #shigeru kimura x reader #the hornet x reader #tangerine x reader

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growup-thatbeautiful · 1 year

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bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Text

Honestly, you weren’t all that taken aback to see Tangerine standing just outside your house, casually lights the cigarette hanging from his lips; acting as though he wasn’t accumulating a small puddle of blood beneath him that was seeping through your lovely welcome mat. His well tailored clothes were unsalvageable, his skin was tainted with dirt, mucus, injuries of varying sizes and sections of his hair were mattered with his and someone else’s blood. Yet he still looked inexplicably handsome…for a British twat that was.

“Would you kindly mind in getting the fuck off my welcome mat, your getting your blood all over it.” You told him just as you opened the front door to be greeted with the sight of his broad backside. Tangerine looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened when they landed on your frame, “Oh fuck, this was your house? If I had fucking knew that beforehand I would have seen myself elsewhere.” You gave him a tight lipped smile, you and Tangerine didn’t have the best of relationships; you couldn’t pinpoint where it began but it felt like you could never withstand to be within one another’s presence. Needless to say your only common contact was his Thomas the tank engine obsessed brother, Lemon.

“Then why didn’t you?” You questioned, not actually wanting to know how the fuck he had found where you lived if it wasn’t under the pretence of killing you once and for all. His stance seemed to softened as his flicked away his cigarette butt into the open street, breathing out the last traces of smoke from his lungs. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.” Tangerine’s voice was vulnerable as he stared out across the street, unwilling to gauge your reaction for the very same reason you never gauge his when you knew he hit a nerve. You were both so alike in the most minute ways that it was easily missable by both parties involved, resulting in countless misconceptions where as something as simple communication could’ve been the easy clear cut solution.

“I was still high on adrenaline after my mission that when I finally came off the fucker, that’s when my injuries became a problem I couldn’t ignore.” You stayed silent, allowing for Tangerine to continue his story, “I knew I couldn’t go to the hospital and I didn’t want to bother Lemon on his day off that by the time I realised where I was I…found myself looking for you instead.” He finished, looking you at you briefly before looking away once more, still bleeding by the way. To your knowledge Tangerine wasn’t a man of vulnerability but more so one of brutality and profound swearing that would make a sailor blush. So to witness his guard fall before your very eyes was the equivalent to seeing pigs fly, it was against everything you’ve ever known but it was a welcoming shock to your system being able to witness such a sight.

“Say somethin’ then, I feel like a right fucking twat right about now.” Tangerine uttered, his guard coming back up when he realised that he had just allowed himself into being vulnerable within your presence and on your own doorstep too. You blinked back into reality and saw how much paler he had gotten from how he looked at the beginning of all this, all the while coming to the unspoken acknowledgement that you had to act quickly before you were left to drag his unconscious body all by your lonesome. Sighing, you opened the door wider for your unwilling guest, “get in,” you gestured with your head towards the hallway that stared back at you two, “and do it quick before anyone gets the impression that I’m hiding a dead body.” You added as Tangerine smiled at your invitation before wincing when he moved a certain way, causing his wounds to become more aggravated and quickly rushing for the comfort of your home.

All the while you grabbed the now ruined welcome mat and shutting the door behind you though not before giving the streets a quick glance over incase of some unwanted onlookers from perceiving the scene before them however they saw to fit their unreliable narrative. You were well aware of how unliked you were by the elders who lived across the street, you were well aware of how ever since you’ve moved into the neighbourhood they’ve done nothing but try in catching you doing some scandalous act that they could get you convicted for. Every morning they would scowl at you and every evening they could be seen on their front porch, watching your house like old decrepit hawks, hungry for an ounce of flesh to be thrown their way. ‘Desperate cunts’ you’d called them. Though recently they had to be relocated to a care home due to their inability to look after themselves as health complications began to arise.

You soon found Tangerine cooped up within your bathroom, stripped completely of his shirt as he helped himself to the first aid kit you had tucked away in your mirrored cabinet he was now staring himself in as he patched up some of the more significant wounds. You normally wouldn’t be caught dead staring at the one person you seemingly hated as equally as your elderly neighbours. Yet you found yourself immobile at the doorway, admiring the scars from previous jobs he had taken on and the way his muscles would react, tensing and almost flinching away from his own touch as he disinfected a particularly nasty wound upon his hip.

He must’ve caught your reflection because he only halted his movements to stare at you through the mirror, “you know instead of staring how about you either take a picture or lend a hand in patching me up, yeah.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as to hide the fact that you were caught for your blatant starting, “your a grown man Tangerine, you should be able to take care of your own boo boos by now and besides I wasn’t staring, I was critiquing your sloppy job of patching yourself up.” The male only seemed to laugh at your attempt of a cover up as he went back to patching himself with the unreliable aid of your mirror. “Suit yourself, love.” He replied as he reached for the gauze,“suit yourself.”

#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic #tangerine imagines #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train fic #bullet train imagines #bullet train fanfic #bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #bullet train x you

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gh0stsp1d3r · 9 months

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Could I request a lemon x wife!reader were he doesn’t know she’s working the same job as him nor her being an assassin in general and he finds out once they’ve crossed paths?

I’m just now getting into bullet train fics and I’m now starving over here😭

IVE NEVER REALLY WRITTEN FOR LEMON SO IM SO HAPPY I CAN DO THIS THANK YOU ANON 🤭I always make the reader ladybugs partner because it’s such a funny dynamic

Lies

“Shut up.” You whisper yelled to your partner, ladybug.

“You shut up!” He sassed back.

You narrowed your eyes at him, which made him mutter a small “sorry” and shut up.

You furrowed an eyebrow as you looked in the hall.

“That’s literally my fucking… brother in law.” You mumbled, and you both hid in a small space while he entered the room, talking on the phone.

Somehow, you both had managed to get not caught and go the opposite direction.

“Holy shit. My brother in law- my husbands brother is literally working for the white death. I can’t hurt my brother in law!” You grabbed Ladybugs shoulders, shaking them.

He raised his eyebrows and grabbed your shoulders instead, looking into your eyes.

“We’re not hurting anyone. We are getting the fuck off this train.” He said, trying his best to calm you down.

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” You nodded, and you both walked, talking some.

That’s when you walked straight into someone when you looked the other way.

“Oh. Shit I’m so sorry s…” your words stopped when you looked at the man, the man looked at you with wide eyes.

He said your name, it came out as more of a question.

“Uh.. Brian.”

He looked at Ladybug, and back to you.

(I always go off the actors names if they don’t have one, like lemon and tangerine, you can imagine it as something else if you want)

That’s when he attacked ladybug, practically pouncing on him and choking him.

“Stop! Stop! He’s my partner!” You shouted, Brian stopped, looking back at you again.

“Seriously? This asshole?!” He shouted at you, nodding his head at ladybug trapped underneath him. Ladybug regaining his air.

“Okay. Okay. I get you’re mad, but you lied too!”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“You’re right. I shoulda’ told you.”

“Hey, I think some marriage counseling would really help-“ ladybug said, still trapped underneath Lemon.

“Shut it.” You both said at the same time.

“Jeez, I guess that’s why you both get along.” He mumbled to himself.

“I’m sorry for lying.” He said after a while of silence.

“I’m sorry.” You said.

“You both needa get the fuck off this train.” He stood up, staring at you now.

“What? Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious. It’s dangerous, and I swear to god if something happened to you-“

“It won’t.” You cut in.

“Jus’ get off the train-“

“No way.”

“Yes way, come on.” Ladybug grabbed your hand, which you pulled away and turned back to lemon.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“I’m not leaving without Tangerine.”

“Who?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“My brother.”

“Oh, Aa-“

“Yeah, that’s the one.” He cut you off.

“So what’s your nickname?” You asked.

“Oh, mines Lemon.”

“So, Lemon and tangerine-“

“Like the fruit, yeah, yeah, okay can we please go?” Ladybug groaned.

“If your staying I’m staying.” You argued.

Lemon groaned, looking at the ceiling and then back at you.

“Your too stubborn, you know?”

“You love me.”

“Mm. I do.”

The doors closed, and Ladybug groaned and complained while you both kissed.

#lemon #lemon x reader #lemon bullet train #bullet train x reader #bullet train fic #bullet train x you #bullet train imagine #bullet train #brian tyree henry #brian tyree henry x reader

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lenacosse · 3 months

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HEYYY please can i request tan x reader where tan sees reader angry fior the first time. So reader, tan and lemon are just out and about or smth and reader just sees someone being horrible to someone. Like idk maybe they went shopping and the guy infront is jut being an ass to the cashier or they are at a bar and someone is harassing a bartender (smth like that , just ideas) and reader just loses her shit and lemon is shocked but proud and tan just realises hes in love and its kinda like one of those moments for him like 'oh shit i love her' realisation. hope u can do thiss and hope it makes sense

Flawless

pairing: tangerine x reader

cw: alcohol, strong language and violence

word count: 1,486

‘i fell in love today,

there aren’t many words that you can say that

could ever change my mind.

she’s enough for me, she’s in love with me

you’re a doll, you are flawless.’

════════════════

You open your car door once the taxi pulls up outside of the bar, you step out the cool air wrapping around your body making you shiver. You walk towards the bar door, show your id and enter. You scan the area for Tangerine and Lemon, you spot them in a booth and approach them.

“Hi!” You sit down beside Tangerine. Lemon on his other side.

“Hi love.” Tangerine replies, passing you a drinks menu. Your attempt to hide the blush of your cheeks by looking intensely at your menu.

You pick your drink, vodka cranberry and Lemon goes to the bar to order. Tangerine asks you about work whilst Lemon gets the drinks, you go off on a slight rant about your boss who very clearly overworked you because no one else was as dedicated as you were to rising up the ranks. You were a starting out art designer and this was your first firm placement. Tangerine just listened, that’s what you liked about him. He never told you to shut up when you rambled on about anything, he listened and responded with exactly what you needed to hear every time.

Lemon returned, gave you your drink and settled back down on his seat.

“So why didn’t either of you let me know you were leaving the city for a week?” You raise an eyebrow whilst eyeing them suspiciously.

“It was last minute work stuff,” shrugged Lemon.

“What did you have to go on a super secret mission to kill the Mafia or something,” you tease.

“Not the Mafia but something like that.” Tangerine says casually. You still couldn’t believe their jobs, you definitely should’ve been scared of them but you’ve know them for a long time, enough time to trust them with your life.

“And we found our Diesel,” Lemon says. You laugh at how proud he looked. “Right under our noses the entire time, playing us like fools.”

“Only time it’s ever been beneficial.” Tangerine mumbles.

“So you admit that it isn’t childish and stupid.” Lemon responses.

“It is childish and stupid. I’m sick of hearing about it,” Tangerine grumbled, finishing his drink.

“Oh come on Tan, it does no harm.” You nudge him. He just rolls his eyes at you, “you’re so grumpy. Lighten up.”

He just shakes his head, but you see him crack a smile. It makes you smile in return, you couldn’t be more of an opposite from Tan, he was a little grumpy and sometimes too serious. And you were the opposite, you were too friendly and extremely spontaneous. You talked he listened, he was neat you were all over the place at times, he was calm and you were lively. But somehow that was literally everything, and Lemon was the glue that held you all together. He was the perfect mix between them both and your metaphorical partner in crime (Tangerines literal one).

However you knew that a few drinks made Tangerine much chirpier and that you used to your advantage. So now you all sit absolutely wasted at the bar, Lemon orders the fourth shot. The three of you finish another shot, then just order a drink. The bar around you was busy and lively, the music was pumping through your veins and you felt electric.

You were mid conversation with the guys when you hear some intense ranting. A man is giving off about the bartender yet no one is listening, which just urges him to continue.

“Oi. Can you hurry the fuck up and take my order,” his voice fumes from behind you.

“I’ll be with you in one minute I’m serving a customer.” The bartender responds.

“I told you to take my fucking order. Are you stupid?”

You turn around in an instant to the source of the demands, you make eye contact with him and he just scoffs at you. “And she told you to wait a minute.”

“Who the fuck was talking to you?”

“Oh get over yourself. Piss off and leave her alone, it’s busy in here just wait.”

The man only ignores you and turns back to the bartender. “I swear to fucking god you’re such a useless bitch. I want a drink, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Please let me sort this couple out first.”

“Fucking ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

You stand up and come to face like him, you were livid by the vermin he was speaking. “You’re the ridiculous one here. She told you she’s busy! Just fucking get out you dickhead!” You shouted. He crossed his arms, trying to assert power in the situation.

Tangerine and Lemon both instantly turn around to look at what’s going on, Lemon was extremely taken aback by your confidence but he was impressed. But Tangerine was fascinated, he had never seen you riled up before.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with you, turn the fuck around again no one cares about what you have to say.”

“Im sure they care a lot more than watching a shallow waste of space cry because he’s not the top priority.”

“You fucking bitch.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?! A bitch. You think I’m a bitch? Well I think you’re a greedy spoilt little prick.”

“Oh my god she’s brilliant.” Tangerine says, completely starstruck. Lemon only nods in agreement. They couldn’t believe the fire you had inside of you, it was so intense. The man you were arguing with looked threatened, but he couldn’t accept defeat.

“That’s rich coming from you sitting there with two men, like a fucking whore. Look at you,” he looks you up and down, you suddenly feel extremely self conscious of your outfit, even though it was barely showing cleavage. “You look like a fucking prostitute.”

You don’t even take a moment to think and before you knew it your fist collided with his nose, sending him to the ground. People watched in shock, no one not even you knew what just happened it was all so sudden.

Tangerines mouth falls open, as he watches everything go down. There was something about seeing you like this that made everything click. “Fucking hell I love her.” He says, dead serious yet dazed.

Lemon does a double take and stares at Tangerine. “What?” He looks at you, prouder than ever but knew him and Tan needed to get you out of the bar before the man attacks you.

They both speedily usher you out and the three of you sit curb side outside the bar.

“What the fuck just happened,” Lemon floundered, you shake your head in response. You anger was settling and you were just calming down.

“If I see that bastard I’ll tear his fucking head off,” Tangerine says, you could tell he was mad, rightfully so considering what the man had said to you.

“I’ll vouch to that.” You respond.

Lemon inspected your hand of which you used to punch him. Your knuckles were swollen and inflamed.

“I’ll go get you ice.” Lemon goes off to get ice, leaving you and Tangerine.

You look up at the sky admiring the stars, they were one of your favourite sights and looking at them always grounded you. The alcohol was slowly wearing off, leaving you just over tipsy.

“Sorry for not setting in back there,” Tangerine says, his voice comes out soft. You look at him and shrug.

“It’s no big deal,”

“I would’ve have thought you’d argue with someone in the bar, I was impressed, you were slightly terrifying.”

You softly laugh, Tangerine just smiles. “Well his attitude just pissed me off. But.. I feel terrible for causing a scene. I seemed like a crazy bitch.”

Tangerine turned around so he was basically facing you, “you didn’t cause a scene you done what needed to be done.”

“I guess, but everyone probably thought i was some flawed psycho who’s violent.”

“No. No don’t say that,” Tangerine puts his hand on yours and looks at you; his expression is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. His eyes are soft yet fierce, but they hold so much value to his words. You’ve never seen or heard him be so considerate before. His voice was gentle, not grumpy and his touch was comforting, but you liked this side of him.

“It’s true.”

“Believe me, you’re flawless love. You fought that man to help someone else, that shows how kind you are. Anyone who saw everything go down acknowledges that.” He stroked your hand with his thumb, you smiled at his words, a blush dusting your face.

You rested your head on his shoulder and you knew there was a shift in your dynamic with Tangerine from there onwards. You’d always secretly wanted him but you thought you were too boring and too average for him, but the way he spoke to you and the way he looked at you made you feel like you were on fire.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #tangerine bullet train #lemon bullet train #bullet train fic #bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #tangerine fic #tangerine fluff #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine and lemon bullet train #fanfiction requests #fic request #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine fanfiction

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augustghosts · 1 year

Text

Wedding Ring

Tangerine x Fem!reader

Summary: A wedding ring will not stop Tangerine from getting what (who) he wants.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Smut! Basically straight from the get go so 18+, minors leave pls. Cheating. Pinv. unprotected sex. Lots of teasing and dirty talk. Lots of pet names and swearing.

This is based off of the song Bad Thing by Arctic Monkeys lol. This actually has a little bit of plot, idk if it's gonna be boring or not. I kinda have an idea for a part 2… hehe. As always this isn't proofread soooo, lmk if you spot any dire mistakes. I hope you like <3

@slut4tangerine 🫶

“Your brother is next door.” Breathless, a sigh. Practically a moan. A dingy hotel room somewhere in a noisy part of the city. Cheap and small. They had only been in here a few minutes, their bags tossed by the door, curtains shut. Shoes still on but Tangerine had her up against the door nethertheless. His large, ringed hand gripped her waist tightly. His warm, kiss swollen mouth traveled down her neck.

“So?” She can feel the smile on his lips as he whispers against her ear. Another dreamy sigh leaves her mouth. “He’s tired. He’s probably already in bed. Don’t make me think about my brother right now.” He finishes his sentence by shamelessly palming her tits through her blouse. “All I've been thinking about is you.”

“Yeah?” She starts to reach for the buttons on his shirt.

“Yeah.” He groans when she gets the buttons undone and runs her palms over his chest. “I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.”

“What were you thinking about?” He’s returning the favor now, ripping open her shirt. His eyes darted straight to her chest. Not as courteous as she was with his clothes.

“Been thinking about this stupid little skirt. Been thinking about how good you look in it.” His hands run down her back to grab at her ass, a firm squeeze makes her whimper as he says: “How good your ass looks in it.”

When he starts to kiss down her neck again, her head naturally moves to the side to give him some more room. A glint catches her eye, a small flicker of reflecting light on the bedside table. Her wedding ring sits neglected on the side, just like the man who gave it to her sits neglected on the other side of the world. He notices the change, he knows - he always knows.

“Don’t worry about it.” He mumbles, his hand weaving into her hair to make him look at her. His strong grip pulled her head back. His other hand on her back, keeping her flush against him. Keeping her there to feel how hard he already was. By it, he meant him. Her husband, her marriage. Tangerine hated thinking about it. She should have his ring on her finger, he would have bought her a much nicer one. He hadn’t held back from telling her this in the past and honestly, she believed him. He always made sure she had nothing but the best.

Taking off the ring didn’t make it any easier - maybe it made it worse. Thew thought of fucking her with the ring on made Tangerine’s cock stir to life. The thought of holding her hands above her head as he fucked her, while the ring sat there on her finger. Fuck, he wanted that. He wasn’t even sure why. But she always took it off and unfortunately for him, he had to respect that. Her brain constantly warns her that removing the ring every time probably makes this whole affair harder, the mere act of removing the ring makes her feel guilty. But there is just something about Tangerine that she can't resist. Something that she needs. Something that makes all of this strangely worth it.

Tangerine is like a whirlwind. His lips capture hers again, his hands continue their race to pull off her shirt - her bra following. He maneuvers her down to the surprisingly soft mattress. It never took him long to get her squirming and begging. She only needs half an excuse and she’ll be away with him. Away with him down the same road they’ve traveled a million times before. His lips leave hers to rid himself of his own shirt.

“Tan, please.” She whimpers below him. Her hands caressing his chest that was now bared to her - warm skin and muscle under her soft palms.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He coos. “You want me to touch you?” One of his thick fingers trailed over her covered pussy, his arm pushing her skirt up over her hips. Her legs wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. His other hand comes up to cradle her throat. Such a simple touch yet it held everything. And he knew that she loved it. He drew back to look at her underneath him.

“You look so good like this baby. Tell me what you want.” He urged, his voice deeper. It wasn’t enough for him to feel it or see it, he wanted to hear it. Hear her beg for it, hear her beg for him.

“I don’t know.” She breathes. His grip on her neck is still tight. “Just hurry. Please.”

“You do.” He whispers. “Show me.”

She rolls her eyes at him, grabbing his hand that was around her neck and guiding it back under her bunched up skirt. The place that always ached for him. His touch is always electric. His hand slipped into her already soaked panties, she’d been wet for him for most of the day. But she wouldn’t tell him that. The last thing he needed was an ego boost. His fingers easily find her clit, circling it tightly - slowly. The whines and moans that she let out sounded heavenly, the sounds he always thought about when he was alone. His fingers slid down just a bit further.

“So wet for me already.” he groans. She was dripping for him, writhing against his hand. Craving him. She flushed as he held his hand up to the lamp beside the bed, his fingers glistened in the dull light.

“Look at that.” He smirked.

“Stop being a dick.” she said, reaching for his belt buckle. “Get on with it.”

“I just like taking my time with you, baby.” He said as he slipped his two fingers into her mouth, pushing them past her lips. Groaning at the feel of her mouth - warm and wet.

“I can’t wait to get my cock in between those lips.” He mumbled as he helped her with his pants, throwing them to the floor. He undid the zip at her hip, unraveling the skirt and slipping it down her legs, joining his clothes on the floor. He pressed a kiss to her navel as he slipped off her soaked panties next. Then, he was above her again- her hands cradle his neck as she pulls him down for a kiss. He kissed her like no one else. Better than her husband ever had.

“We’ll save that for later, I can't wait to have you baby. You look so pretty like this.” She was a sight that Tangerine thought he could worship for the rest of his damn life. Legs eagerly open for him, pussy glistening in front of him.

“Please Tan, I need you.” She whimpered. He smiled and stood on his knees before her. Pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling away, grasping her waist in his strong hand - the other one holding his cock at her entrance. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I thought I told you to stop being a dick?” Her ankles around his waist attempt to encourage him forward.

Tangerine laughed before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and finally pushing inside of her. They both groaned in unison, moaning into each other's mouths. Fuck, he filled her up so well. It always felt so right. He started slowly, studying her face - engraving every little reaction into his mind. Waiting to hear her begging for him, the way he liked.

“Fuck, please.” She finally breathed out - she sounded heavenly. “Harder!”

“Yeah? You want it harder?” He pulled out, ignoring her whines of protest and gripping her hips. “Turn over for me, gorgeous.”

He helps up onto her knees and flips her over, a groan leaving him as she pushes her ass up into the air. He places his hand on the small of her back, forcing her to arch her back further. Her hands grip the pillow in front of her as he pushes back inside of her, immediately starting a bruising pace.

“Is this how you wanted it?” He asks. She moans in response, a firm slap to her ass encourages her to answer.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, Tan.” She practically shouts, her voice high pitched. The sound of skin on skin rings throughout the room, if she wasn’t so far gone she would be hoping they didn’t have anyone staying in the rooms next door.

He slaps her ass again, his palm soothing the spot afterwards as he mutters; “So fucking perfect, baby.” He loves seeing her face, loves the face she makes when she comes for him. But having her like this - back arched, face pressed into the mattress, it always ignited a fire in him. He keeps up his pace, she always marveled at how strong he was. A lot stronger than he looked, she had underestimated him when they first met. Something he would soon teach her to regret. She’s close - a tingling in her belly that travels down her legs tells her so. Her fingers come up to rub at her clit, it almost drives Tangerine insane.

“Oh fuck yes, touch yourself sweetheart. Shit, are you close, baby?” He’s close too, it’s so hard for him to hold back when it comes to her. He wasn’t even embarrassed about it, and he made sure she knew it. “So fucking tight baby, you feel fantastic. Gonna make me come all over you. You want that?”

“Yes! Please. I want it.” She screamed, she knew he liked it when she was vocal. “I’m gonna come, Tan. Shit, don’t stop!”

Her mouth opened, a moan of his name followed by her pressing her face into the pillow as she came. His hand wrapped into her hair, tugging her head back up. “Oh no you don’t.” He hissed, his teeth gritted, jaw tight. “I wanna fucking hear you baby. Fuck, i’m gonna come all over this gorgeous ass, sweetheart.”

And that he does, she’s still recovering - moaning softly and panting, when he pulls out and spills over her skin. His hand finishing himself off. A gruff moan of her name as she feels his seed drip down her thighs. Honestly, she could have come again just from the sounds he made. She collapsed onto the mattress, turning over onto her back - he flops beside her. She laughs when the bed creaks underneath them. Both of them are breathing heavily and she can feel him looking at her. she doesn’t want to turn, this was always the hardest part - meeting those big blue eyes and having to leave him behind.

When she does meet his gaze, it's exactly as she suspected. He’s looking at her hopefully, laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand.

“You know we only booked two rooms, right?” He says. “So, unless you’re planning on rooming with Lemon next door….”

He trails off, a proud smirk on his face. Two rooms. Of course. She knew she should have done it herself. Oh well, nothing she can do now. She’s tired and sweaty and honestly, going to sleep in Tangerine’s arms sounds like heaven. But first, she gets up to shower and of course, he follows. Half an hour later they are back in the bed, the room is dark but illuminated by the bustling city lights - reds and purples. An open window lets a comfortable breeze in, the soft sound of cars and Tangerine’s breathing fills her ears. His strong arm is laying over her waist, she’s pulled tightly to his chest - so warm. Fuck, she could get used to this. She really should have booked her own room. But for now, this is okay. Just this once.

#tangerine bullet train #tangerine #bullet train #tangerine fic #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #bullet train fic #bullet train smut #smut #fem reader #x reader

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pink3princess · 1 year

Text

tangerine x reader headcannons pt two :p

tw: swearing, mentions of alcohol

a/n : thank you guys so much for all the love on my first tangerine hc post! it means so much to me! hope you enjoy this one too :)

part one / masterlist

in the winter he’ll tell you that the heater is broken or something but he’s fucking lying

he’s only saying that so you cuddle reallly close to him at night for warmth 🙄

gotta love our little manipulative shithead <3

as someone who really likes lemon flavors/scents

IF YOU TOLD TANGERINE THAT YOU PREFER LEMON ANYTHING over tangerines he’d get a little pouty, maybe a little jealous...

passive aggressive even

like if you’re at a restaurant together ordering dessert and there’s a lemon flavored option he’s like “ bet you’ll like that huh🤨”

and you’re like “I’m going to throw this drink in your face if you don’t stop 😁 Love you <3”

also in the winter time he’ll go all grandma on you and ask you to wear socks in the house or else you’ll catch a cold 🙄🙄

I feel like he needs a lot of reassurance from his partner, even tho he might not say so outloud

you’re one of the most important people in his life - he definitely needs to hear that you’re just as obsessed with him as he is with you :(

I feel like with shy! reader,,he finds you absolutely adorable

but if you feel a little bit more talkative and outgoing, he is so encouraging and kinda proud that you’re coming out of your shell a little

also when I tell y’all this man is OBSESSED with his partner, he loves everything about you

ok here we go: petnames tan calls his partner (canon because I said so)

-sweetheart

-love

-sugar plum

-pumpkin

-darling

-angel (extra points if he adds a “my” before it)

ok last thought: ok so we can all agree this guys has MONEY -

SO- i believe the both of you travel A LOT

he's got a winter cabin for a cuddly holiday,

in the spring you'll travel to Europe for museum tours and nights in beautfiul hotels

for summer he'll whisk you away to a sunny island, just the two of you getting tired from being in the sun all day and having pretty, fancy drinks on the beach <3

ok that’s it for now hope you liked!!

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maddipoof · 1 year

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There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort 🌷 you saved my life." "not a big d-" "no. you saved it." With tangerine

Reader’s code name is Pomelo because i like the sound of it, and also called small once, not as like a descriptor but just like, in comparison to a pomelo and an insult. And also if you don’t like swearing this is not the fic for you, it’s Tangerine, what did you expect? uhhhh TW: Like violence, duh, swearing, and yeah WC: 1.7k and the ending is kinda lame but meh, I hope you like it <3

For only meeting them less than a year ago, you’ve certainly lost track of the number of missions you’ve been on with the twins. Lemon was always lovely, always looking out for you, making sure you were alive, not that you’ve ever been that close to death, but still. And Tangerine…Tangerine was a little less hands on with you but you still knew he cared, just as he knew you cared about him surviving.

You were a team, all three of you. You stuck together and looked out for each other, always.

But not this time.

“Pomelo!” was the last thing you heard Lemon say just as you were struck in the back of the head. The woman in all black stepped up to your limp form on the ground just as you miraculously gained the strength to put your arms around your head as a weak means of protection.

“Pomelo, is it?” She turned you over with her foot, the metallic tang of blood forcing itself down your throat. “You’re a bit small for a pomelo, aren’t you? You need your big, strong boys to do all the work for you, hm?” Her face, so close to yours, was becoming blurry as she spit her painfully forced posh accent at you. She stabbed her katana into the ground next to your head, “I could just tear you apart.” She was kneeling over you and pulled another smaller knife out of its sheath in her back, just to stick it by the other side of your head. “Eh, I s’pose I should peel you first.”

She leaned down close to you again to pull the knife out from beside your head. You were fairly certain this was it for you, and if she was gonna kill you, may as well make her work for it. She was about to push herself off her knees when you spat a horrid mix of blood and spit in her face. She dropped a knee to your stomach then and you lurched up. With half her weight on you, she was about to strike. You could follow her eyes to her lazer-like target on your face. She raised her arm but Lemon grabbed her wrist from behind. It was futile, he may have been bigger but she was much stronger. She slammed her head into him and he fell back into another of her henchmen. The blade was halfway on its descent to your jaw when it slid across Tangerine’s back. He jumped in its path and took her down with him. Him beating her face to a pulp through her balaclava was the last thing you saw. His hair a wreck if you’ve ever seen it and he’d already lost the jacket and vest an hour ago. You couldn’t help but watch, though you were fading fast, couldn’t help but stare at the thin line blooming red through his crisp white shirt.

Then it went dark.

You woke up with a throbbing pain behind your eyes and a groan. Also in a familiar bed, but not your own. Long legs stretched out next to you, cashmere socks pointed towards the tv. It took you a second to realize what it was playing. A scene from …, the one you always skipped to after an assignment went wrong and you just needed something to calm down. The one Tangerine always made fun of you for liking so much. You looked up even though the slightest movement felt like your head was filled with lead marbles. Tangerine was violently tapping on his phone with one index finger. Either he was stuck on that same level of the game he’s been obsessed with for the last two months, or he was texting Lemon.

You tugged on the side of his trouser. He looked down at you immediately, face filled with worry, “Turn it—“ it was like your throat was the nile river and the rasp was the second plague, that’s how many frogs were in there.

“Off?”

“Down, turn it down.”

He grabbed the remote first and held a water bottle down to you second, you didn’t have to sit up too far with the mouthpiece to sip from. You swallowed too much too fast and the coughing that followed did nothing for your headache. “Easy, easy. Breathe, love.” He led you down with one hand to your shoulder and one to your head, “There ya go.” He moved his hand to your chest and rubbed gentle circles. “Better, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both sat there for a few moments more, half watching the movie (or pretending to), and half watching for the other to make a move.

“Than- uh, thank you.”

“For what, Pom?”

“For saving my l—“

“It’s really—It’s not a big deal.” He brushed it off as if the prospect of you being grateful for such a thing scared him, and tried to quiet you by holding more water to you.

“No, you saved it. Thank you.”

This inadvertently sent him into a trance of contemplation, he was staring off at something towards the end of the bed.

He was about to speak when Lemon popped in.

“Oh lovely, you’re awake.”

“Regrettably.”

“Sarcasm intact. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

“Ha ha. I mean I’d rather be sleeping, not dead.”

You moved to lay back down but Tangerine held you up, “It’s best you eat first, love.”

Try as you might, for the next few weeks without any new missions to distract you, sleep never came easy. And when it did it was marred by inconsistancy and horrible nightmares. Each time you couldn’t fight it and dozed off on the couch or your face on your arms on the counter, you were jolted awake by the most terrifying visions.

Both Lemon and Tangerine knew, but after knowing you this long, they knew it’d be worse to say anything before you brought it up. Even if you tried to fake it, like you did 5 weeks to the day after it happened.

Lemon went to bed early that night, and though you could see Tangerine wanted to too, he wouldn’t go if you were still up.

As exhausted as you were, everytime you closed your eyes you were faced with the same scene of red blooming through Tan’s shirt.

You were both watching some movie you insisted he pick and you let him get away with thinking you didn’t know that he picked one of your favorites on purpose. He was on one end of the couch and you were on the other, it wasn’t terribly long but if both of you were laying flat across it you still wouldn’t touch.

“Watch your movie,” he said when he caught you looking.

“It’s not my movie, you picked it.”

“You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Have not.”

“You have. Why?”

“I haven’t— It doesn’t matter.”

“Pom,” he said sincerely, “Love, why?”

“I can’t explain it.” He moved like he thought about getting closer to you but decided against it. “Just- come here.” You waved him closer and he slid down the rest of the couch while you made room for him.

He looked understandably confused and stayed up straight next to you. He tilted his head in a silent question that you couldn’t answer with words but instead a question of your own. You reached out to him hesitantly and waited for him to nod before you went for the fourth button of his shirt, the top 3 had been undone since dinner and he followed your lead and started undoing them from the bottom but looking at your hands instead. It was like an electric shock when you both went for the same button. Both of you jumped away like you were scared of each other’s hands. He looked at you and you nodded so he continued then pulled off his undershirt. As if he knew what you wanted without having to ask, he turned around so you could see the wound. He nodded when you put a hand on his back and you pulled at the edge of the bandage, just enough to see how it was healing.

It wasn’t deep, and it wasn’t wide, but it was long. The edges were starting to come back together and he’s been wincing much less lately. It never got infected and now only the very center stripe was still red.

He was going to turn back around but you practically threw yourself against his back, careful to avoid anywhere near the bandage. He tried to quiet his groan from the force, “Sorry,” you whispered.

“No, it wasn’t you.”

It was good. Those few minutes just feeling each other’s warmth and heart and breathing. It was good.

“Tan?” Asking could have been the greatest mistake of your life.

He sighed and let his head fall back to your shoulder. “Pom.”

“You saved my life.” He straightened at that.

“And you’ve saved mine, we’re even. Don’t- don’t make it more than it has to be.”

“No, listen, please for once.” He took a deep breath and leaned back again. “It’s never gotten that close before, for either of us. And I don’t— If you weren’t there I don’t know—“

“Don’t fuckin say it.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s not.”

“How?”

“You don’t know what would have happened and it doesn’t fuckin matter cus it didn’t happen.”

“Thank you though, for what did happen.”

He didn’t say much more than a hmm and laid down on his back, kind of uncomfortably on your leg from the way the two of you were sitting. He waved for you to join him, “Here, love,” he pulled you down to his chest and you moved past the temporary awkwardness to get comfortable. “Just go to sleep, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He could hear the hesitance.

“You wanna go to your room?”

“No, here’s ok, here is good.”

“Good. Relax, alright? We’re ok.”

taglist but like, you guys are slacking, pick up the pace come on(no i'm kidding, I love all you guys do for me): @new-romqntics @sw34terw34ther @beezywriting @haydipoof @avipoof @callmyheartyours @puppy-coded @manyfandomsfanvergent @loving-and-dreaming @munsonsreputation @esperisdrunkinwonderlandwonderland @babyrunsforfanfic @sp1rit-realm @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @imshiningjustforyou @munsonsreputation @harringtonssangel @honeymunson @katsu28 @masivechaos @steveharringtonsleftshoe

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