#dad!tangerine

[pretty-little-mind33]

dad!Tangerine x reader

Summary: You and your baby talk to Tangerine when he's away at work.

Genre: Fluff with a pinch of angst

Warnings: mentions of death, cursing

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Your shirt smells like baby food and your hair is a mess, but your baby boy has finally fallen asleep for his mid-day nap. He's not in his crib, instead he's lying on your husband's side of the bed, his fists curled into the bedsheets. He's snoring lightly and luckily the sound of your macbook ringing doesn't wake him—he'd fussed himself into exhaustion. 

"Hi," you whisper, seeing Tangerine adjust the camera on his end. He curses, turning on the lamp beside him so you can see him properly. He's in yet another hotel room.

Your expression falls when you see his lip is swollen. "T—what happened?" you ask. 

"Nothin' for ya to worry your pretty little head about," your husband smiles and wipes some blood from his chin.

"T," you whisper, gently stroking Tom's head as the baby sleeps beside you. "You don't have to pretend you're okay when you aren't, not with me," you say as you look at him more closely. The collar of his suit is red with blood and he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. "How's the mission?"

"Is he sleeping?" Tangerine ignores your question and asks instead, his voice low.

You smile softly and lower the screen to show your sleeping baby. Tangerine grins. "What a little man."

"He's been fussing all day. I don't really know what's wrong," you say and stroke his stomach. "I hope he's not in pain." You gently pad your thumb under Tom's sleepy eyes and trace the tear stains. 

"He's probably just uncomfortable. Can ya imagine how scary it is—he was just in 'yer stomach, all snug and warm, and now he's feelin' all these new emotions and hearin' all these new sounds. He must be overwhelmed," Tangerine huffs, pulling at his tie. "It's only been three months, it will get easier," he assures you with a small smile. 

Tom squirms but doesn't wake. You nod, leaning your chin on your palm as you look at the screen. 

"When are you coming home?" you ask, missing him. He's been gone for almost 2 weeks now. Lemon has said it was too much of an important mission to miss—baby or not. Your husband has been pissed but you'd encouraged him to leave. He was never one to say no and he loved his job. As much as you know he loves you and Tom, he was beginning to become restless. 

You really did understand. But the 2 weeks were becoming hard.

"Soon, soon, love, I promise," he says and runs a hand over his jaw. He looks exhausted. "I miss you and him so much. I shouldn't have left. I'm off my game big time. You're the only thing on my mind."

Your chest tightens and you lock eyes with him. "Stay careful, yeah? You won't be much aid to Tommy if you're dead."

"Don't say that," Tangerine grunts, stretching his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

"It's nothin'."

"Don't be a twat," you deadpan, still stroking Tom's stomach. 

Tangerine looks at you and his shoulders slump in defeat. "Bullet grazed my shoulder, near my neck," he says reluctantly and your eyes widen. 

"What?!" you exclaim, almost too loudly but you hold yourself back because of your sleeping baby. 

"Grazed is the keyword, my love," Tangerine smirks. 

"You promised you'd be careful!"

"I am!"

"No—"

"Oi, is that the missus?!" You hear Lemon's voice in the background and suddenly he's leaning down into the frame. He has a large, gaping wound on his cheekbone but still, he's grinning. "Where's the little man?"

"Sleeping," you say and narrow your eyes, "Oh, you're hurt as well," you add in a pained whisper. Tangerine senses the sadness through his laptop screen and he pushes Lemon away from the screen, his own eyes narrowing at his brother in a way that only happens when they're communicating through their gazes. Once his attention is on you again, he forces a smile. 

"Will you stop being worried, my love, we know what we're doing."

You chew on your lip, absentmindedly rubbing circles on Tom's stomach as the baby begins to wake from his quick nap. 

His little eyes blink open and his mouth curls into an O shape as he hiccups his cries. You turn your attention from your husband to the little baby and adjust your sitting position to cradle him in your lap.

"Shh, buddy, look who's here—" You angle Tom's little face towards your laptop, where Tangerine is grinning like an idiot and the baby stops crying for a second as he tries to understand what he's looking at. 

"Hiya little man," Tangerine coos, and Tom's hiccups turn into little giggles as he reaches for the screen. He recognizes his father's voice. Your heart warms at the sight as Tangerine's eyes lighten up with excitement but as you watch him wave to his son, a new wave of sadness rushes over you. 

"You promise you'll always come home," you say, still bouncing Tom on your knee as he babbles to his father. 

"Why do you think I won't?" Tangerine says, keeping up his baby voice as his eyes keep that excitement for Tom's sake. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "Just say it, T," you whine, sounding a little too scared for Tangerine's liking. He runs a hand in his hair, his smile faltering for a moment before he forces one to keep Tom entertained. However, his eyes lock with yours and you can see his sincerity. "I promise I'll always come home. I will never leave you or him. I fuckin' promise, darlin'. Okay?" He winks and although your eyes feel teary, you can't help the breathy laugh and the smile that escapes you. He's impossible.

"Tommy, baby, will ya give your Mummy a kiss for me?" Tangerine speaks and Tom turns to you, his small, chubby hand reaches out and pulls at your cheek. He can't stand or sit up on his own yet so he has trouble reaching you and your laughter becomes more prominent. 

"I don't think he understands English yet," you say with a grin as Tom babbles on, his finger tightly gripping your nose. 

"Seems like he understood just fine to me." Tangerine grins. "He's smart, like his Mum," he adds.

Your cheeks heat up and you run a hand through Tom's little curls. The curls that remind you so much of his fathers' and that tighten in your chest threaten to overwhelm you, but this time you look into Tangerine's eyes and you sense the promise he exudes. 

"I'll be home soon, 'kay?" 

You nod, believing his words. 

"I love you so much, love."

Luckily, those words you've never had a hard time believing. 

[mrs-johnson]

“Hot Dad Problems”

Dad!Tangerine x Mum!Reader + Uncle!Lemon + Baby Girl

Warnings: nothing really but jealousy reader and Lemon being Lemon.

Summary: It was supposed to be a nice family outing at your local grocery shop but turns into a unexpected women flirting with YOUR husband

Saturday mornings used to mean something different.

Once upon a time, it meant slipping a gun into a jacket and heading to some high-rise in Tokyo or Prague. Now it meant loading a stroller, chasing down a toddler sock, and arguing with Lemon over whether he was allowed to buy more chocolate milk.

You’d barely made it to the produce aisle of the local market before chaos began.

“Oi, tell me she doesn’t look just like Emily from Thomas & Friends, yeah?” Lemon was saying, grinning at your baby girl strapped to her dad’s chest in the carrier. “She’s got the cheeks, I swear!”

Tangerine raised a brow. “She’s a baby, not a train, mate.”

Lemon scoffed. “You just don’t understand the power of Thomas the Tank Engine. That show is literature.”

You, meanwhile, were trying to focus on picking out avocados and not the way Tangerine looked in his white t-shirt, gold chain catching the light, your daughter tucked to his chest like he was born for this. And okay, maybe you were a little smug that this was your life now — a reformed assassin turned hot domestic dad with a baby girl who squealed whenever he kissed her forehead.

Until she showed up.

A woman — early thirties, gym leggings, blonde ponytail — slowed her cart just a little too much. Her eyes flicked from Tangerine’s biceps to the baby and then to his face. Lingering.

“Oh my god,” she giggled, “that baby is adorable. Is she yours?”

Tangerine, polite as ever (damn him), smiled and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “Yeah. Mine and my wife’s. She’s ten months.”

You turned just in time to see Blonde Gym Barbie tilt her head. “Wow. That’s… You don’t look like the type.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What type would that be?”

She blinked at you, suddenly noticing you existed. “Oh! I just meant… you know, he’s very—well, hot. For a dad.”

You grinned tightly. “Thanks. I think so too. Especially when he’s cleaning up poop explosions at 2 a.m. Real sexy.”

Tangerine glanced at you sideways, trying not to laugh.

But the woman didn’t get the hint. “It’s just… you’re lucky. He looks like a model. Or like one of those hot dads on TikTok.”

“Yeah,” you said, slipping your arm around his waist. “And he’s my hot dad. With a ring on his finger and a baby strapped to his chest. So maybe move along, yeah?”

She finally blinked, muttered something, and shuffled away toward the juice aisle.

Lemon howled with laughter.

“I knew this grocery trip would be exciting!” he cackled, grabbing a bunch of bananas and tossing them into your cart like he was watching a live sitcom. “Mate, you got yourself a fan club!”

Tangerine smirked and leaned down to kiss your temple. “Jealous, darling?”

You glared, half-playful, half-wounded pride. “No. I’m just territorial. Like a lioness. You’re mine. You and the baby.”

“And the bananas!” Lemon shouted from somewhere behind the cereal boxes.

Tangerine chuckled. “All yours, love. Every inch of me. Even the ones she was ogling.”

You rolled your eyes, though your hand did slide a little lower down his back possessively.

“Let’s just finish the shopping,” you muttered, cheeks warm. “Before I throw an avocado at someone.”

He chuckled, adjusting the baby again as she drooled sleepily against his chest.

And if a few more women in the store turned their heads when he passed by? Well, let them look.

You had the ring. The baby. The man.

And a very smug Lemon dancing in the frozen food aisle with a bag of peas.

[imagoofygoober]

@brokeaesthetic request 1: Tangerine and reader are new parents and the stress is making them both slowly lose it.They end up arguing but stop when the baby wakes up and both apologize.

Hi! I absolutely love both of the requests you sent me.Ill be working on the other one soon after I'm finished with this one.

p.s.: I've only seen bullet train about three times so- as I said in my last fic,sorry if its bad.

dad! Tangerine x mom! wife!reader

Prompt: hurt/comfort,slight angst?,a bit fluffy at the end

Warnings:arguing,mentions of childbirth and insecurities,implied sexual relationship,a hint of smut at the end if you squint,cursing (duh,its Tangerine).

Summary: Having a baby was the best thing that could happen to you and Tangerine.Well,not at first.

You loved being a mom and Tangerine loved being a dad.

You loved being his and he loved being yours.

But it was hard.Only seven months into your daughters,Cherry,life and the both of you haven't had a proper nights sleep in weeks and you haven't had sex since before she was born.

Not that you even wanted to anyway.After having Cherry,it had left you feeling gross,sore and insecure.You felt loose,heavy,fat and Tangerine barely even changed.The only difference was that his abs were less defined and he was more agitated.You thought he wouldn't want you anymore because of your weight gain and inability to lose it.

You loved being a mom,it was an amazing experience that not everyone could have.So why wasn't she happy like all the moms in the movies? Why was she always mad and this close to snapping?

Little did you know,Tangerine felt the same way.He felt as if he had let himself go.That you didn't want him anymore because you refused to change in front of him,always hiding your body from him.Buying clothes that are four times bigger than you usually wear and never wearing anything he's bought besides your wedding ring.That made him upset and that only served to make him more irritated.

_

After a particularly long day of Cherry's non-stop screaming and crying no matter what either of you did,you finally managed to get her to go to sleep.You gently lay her down in her crib before leaving the nursery,gently closing the door behind you.

When you make it to the bedroom,Tangerine was already there,sitting on the edge of the bed.He glances up as he hears the door open,letting out an exasperated sigh before looking at the wall again,his jaw set.

You hear the sigh and your brow furrows. "We need to talk." you say,a certain bite in your tone as you place your hands on your hips.

"Not this again." he mutters,rolling her eyes as he lets his head fall into his hands,his fingers running through his hair.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you ask,a small pit of anger forming in your gut as you watch him roll his eyes.

He rubs his forehead frustratedly before looking up at you. "It means that I don't want t'fuckin talk about it."

"Oh,yeah! I forgot! You never want to talk about anything." you say sarcastically as you cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs,his fingers gripping the sheets. "What's that supposed t'mean?"

"It means that you never want to talk about whats wrong." you say.

He doesn't say anything for a moment,just staring at you with a tense jaw and narrowed eyes,not wanting to admit that you were right.He didn't like it when you wanted him to tell you what was wrong.In fact,he hated it.It wasn't something he was used to even after years of being together.

You let out a soft exasperated huff,about to say something else before cutting yourself off when you hear Cherry's cries from the nursery,both of their expressions slowly softening as their anger diminishes.

"I'm sorry." you both say at the same time.The both of you smile slightly before hearing the infants cries grow louder.

"I'll get her.." Tangerine says uncharacteristicly soft as he stands from the bed.

But before he leaves,he pulls you into a tight hug,burying his nose in your hair as he whispers softly. "I love you.."

"I love you too.." you reply just as softly before he pulls away and leaves the room to go take care of Cherry.

_

When he gets back,lets just say you won't be able to walk very good the next day. ;)

[kpopgirlbtssvt]

Omg imagine Tangerine and Lemon take out The Prince before anything happens to either of them (Tangerine lives every time in my mind!!), but then they hear small cries and find a 3 year old girl cowering in fear, this little girl happened to be The Prince’s and The Son’s younger sister, aka, the White Death’s youngest daughter. And they (honestly having no clue how to handle this situation) just pick her up and continue trying to get off the mess that is the train (Tangerine definitely swiping a stuffed animal to give her to try to calm her down). Anyways, The White Death shows up and wants absolutely nothing to do with his youngest daughter (like he wanted nothing to do with his other children). And they save her from that craziness and take her in as their own🤧 Tangerine becomes her Dad and Lemon’s her Uncle and she’s more loved and cared for than she ever has been! 🥹 This would be the cutest fic🥲

@pretty-little-mind33 @gh0stsp1d3r @sunflowersteves @padfootdaredmetoo @j23r23

[bxbiik]

not so gentle reminder that trump was the one that wanted tiktok banned in the first place. him letting tiktok run is not some generous act of kindness, it's a political stunt to get us to trust him. don't fall for it. stay mad. let this radicalize you.

[velvet-thirst]

"I remember when we used to be able to agree to disagree and didn't cut off friends and family over politics"

Okay. Let entertain this idea.

Lets act like its 'just politics' and not a difference in morals, empathy, and character. Let's pretend this isn't a matter of human rights and safety but a matter of opinion.

Theoretically speaking, lets say we 'embraced each other'

Are you going to pay for my medications if Trump cuts Medicaid?

Are you going to pay for my Dr's appointments? My specialist appointments?

If they cut the program for the home healthcare job I have are you going to pay my bills? My rent?

If this country becomes unsafe for me and my wife because we can't be married, live together, safely hold hands in public without fear of being attacked, spied on, or killed are you going to pay for us to flee the country? Are you going to pay for my pets to be safely quarantined until they can be brought over?

Or, forget the money, will you accept and admit when he is wrong?

When he says things that are blatant lies and riddled with bias? When he and those he puts in power hurt people, hurt our county, send us to war with our allies and unite us with our enemies. Will you speak out? Will you openly criticize him? Or will you stay silent because you either agree, don't care, or fall into a political sunk cost fallacy where you feel like you have to continue to support him because you've staked so much on it?

Or are you going to claim to love and care about and support me while you continue to vote against my life and watch me drown while all you offer are... thoughts and prayers?

[she-wu]

"What trouble? I'm glad to do it. Having you was never hard, not even once." — 폭싹 속았수다 (2025)

[seodongjae]

you do everything well. dad knows you do.

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU TANGERINES (2025) Episode 11, 'My Love by My Side'

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

THE OTHER WOMAN.

pairing. single dad tangerine x fem reader — angst word count. 1954 summary. you feel like the other woman in your relationship with tangerine, questioning whether he’ll ever see you in the same light as his past love. his daughters big feeling about the topic make the situation all the more challenging

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Unwanted. That’s the only feeling you could really identify around Tangerine’s daughter, Mandy. Her harsh, hateful eyes like that of a warning, a silent message to you and you only that you weren’t welcome. The expressions she wears are a spitting image of her father’s, stares and glares always seeming to scope you out of every room — making sure you know your place. Everything about Tangerine miniaturised into a ten-year-old girl.

The near eleven months of being in her and Tangerine’s life never seemed to get any easier. And with as much time as you’ve spent with her, you’d have thought she’d take to you by now. But still, she hasn’t.

You wanted to prove yourself to her without being fearful of the response, show her your fun and whimsy. Show the parts you hide around her. So today, you offered to pick her up from school — to save Tangerine another job between his forever extensive list of errands. 

And so you stood near the school gate, a mini bag of her favourite animal chocolate biscuits in your hand to surprise her — the fingers of your other hand fidgeting anxiously, waiting for the flood kids to exit their six-hour-imprisonment. And then you spot her, her smile bright and bold as he skips with her friends, their book bags swinging with their jumps. All personality dissipating the moment she locks eyes with you through the metal fencing.

She parts from her friends, her features straightening as she walks towards you. 

“Where’s my dad?” she asks, looking around.

“He got caught up with the food shop so I offered to get you,” you smile down to her, trying to ease her. “Hope that’s okay.”

She sighs, the sound disappointed. 

“I brought these for you,” you extend your hand, offering her the small purple packet. 

But she declines, her face like that of disgust as she stares at it. “I want my dad.”

“Of course,” you nod and shove the packet into your bag. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” you offer a weak smile, nodding her along to the car park.

The drive home is quiet, your questions going unanswered and ignored as she stares out the window – trying to pretend you weren’t there. Your attempts of offering friendship turned away like all your others over the last several months. You wanted to feel accepted, feel welcome. But the looks she’d give you were often similar to disappointment. Disappointment that you’re ‘the replacement.’

You pull onto the pebble drive of Tangerine’s house and park beside his car. As soon as it stills, Mandy is getting out, slamming the door behind her and running off towards the house. You give yourself a brief moment to collect yourself, trying to calm your breathing as not to cry. And so you follow after her, getting closer to shouting and screaming inside the house. 

The last you caught of the spat being from the very angry, very sad little girl. “I hate you. I hate her.” The sound of heavy footsteps following as they storm up the stairs. 

You poke your head into the front door, spotting Tangerine at the bottom of the stairs raking through his hair — trying to calm himself as he looks at a family photo frame on the wall. One with his wife and infant baby daughter. He swears under his breath and kicks at the pair of shoes in front of him, knocking them against the wall. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, watching him as you close the door behind you.

He turns to face you, startled. “God,” he utters, holding his heart.

“You okay?” you ask.

He inhales deeply and nods, the act like he’s trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, features sympathetic as you gesture upstairs. 

“Ain’t your fault,” he shakes his head, trying to reassure you. “It’s just a lot for her, that’s all.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever like me,” you laugh weakly, the sound like that of discomfort rather than humour. “I’ve been around nearly a year,” you prompt, avoiding his eyes. 

He paces towards you and lays a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you through the very obvious hurt you’re both feeling. “To her, it just happened, you know?” he says, words soft as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I lost my mum young, too. It’s gonna take her a while to come around… and when she’s ready, we’ll be there,” he pauses to look at you. “Both of us.”

You lean into him, nuzzling your head against his briefly. “I know,” you exhale unsteadily, trying to ease yourself. “It’s just hard,” you murmur, eyes focused on a wedding photo portrait on the side table. “I feel like I’m inserting myself.”

“You’re not,” he reassures, hand reaching for yours. “You’re not. I promise you’re not.”

You feel the cold brush of metal from his left hand and you glance down to your hand enveloped in his — looking at the wedding band he still wears even two years later. The ring an act of promise from his old love.

You shake your hand from his hold, retracting it from him. It all begins to feel like too much and you want to back up, but you’re already against the door as it is. 

“I think I should go home.”

“No,” Tangerine says softly, head shaking sternly as if to enforce his words.

“She doesn’t want me here,” your eyebrows sadly furrow, curving in the middle. “And I—”

“I do,” he interrupts, a downcast expression mirroring yours. “I want you here. I do,” he reaches for your hand again, and this time you don’t pull away. “She’s struggling, yeah, but so am I.”

“I know,” you whisper, pulsing him with a squeeze. “I know you are,” you release his hand and wrap your arms around him, pulling him for a hug. The embrace warm and safe, the act a physical testament of your support.

He rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, burying his face into your comfort. You hear a soft sniffle and you hold a hand over the back of his head, trying to protect him from his grief. You simultaneously run a line down his back, soothing and smoothing him — keeping him aware of your presence. 

The tender moment is cut short when the pair of you hear a loud clatter from upstairs, the sound coming from Mandy’s room. He parts from you and rushes up the steps and you follow closely behind. 

“Mand!” Tangerine shouts out, barging into his daughter's room. She’s on the floor, a bunch of books and toys scattered around her. “Fuckin’ hell,” he pants, making his way closer to his little girl. “What have I told you about climbing?” he shakes his head, clearly pissed by her rebelion. “Could’ve really hurt yourself. What are you playing at?”

“I was trying to get something,” she looks at the bookshelf ahead, gesturing to a box.

You follow her eyeline from your spot in the doorframe, noticing a tiny pink floral box. You step into her room cautiously and reach for the trinket, holding it carefully as you get closer to Mandy and Tangerine — kneeling beside them. 

“It’s so pretty,” you say quietly, marvelling at its detail.

“It’s mums,” she responds and takes the box from your hold, her far smaller hands brushing over yours. “It’s her favourite.”

You turn to look at Tangerine as he watches his daughter, his eyes glued to the box Mandy’s holding.

“It plays music,” she states, her face lighting up.

“It does?” you ask, features mirroring hers. “What does it sound like?”

Excitement. A newfound feeling you felt around Tangerine’s daughter.

“Am I allowed to play it, daddy?�� Mandy asks, looking up at him.

“Of course, poppet,” he nods, smoothing over her curls that match his. “You can play it.”

She opens the little wooden box and twists the handle at the side, letting the gentle classical tune play. With Mandy’s attention captivated, you reach a hand to Tangerine behind her back, comforting him — the sound sure to flood his brain with past memories. He looks over to you, eyes soft and slightly red as he acknowledges you, trying to show his appreciation.

The music lowers to a quiet lull until it stops completely.

“I can see why it’s her favourite,” you say, looking down at her — watching her smile grow wider. “It’s beautiful.”

“She gave it to me, didn’t she, dad?”

He chuckles weakly as he leans forward to kiss her forehead, skimming her hair line. “She did, darlin’.”

“Daddy said it was hers when she was little like me,” she speaks to you, maintaining eye contact like she's never done before. 

“That’s right,” Tangerine smiles at his daughter. “She told you to keep it safe, didn’t she?” he rhetorically asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” she smiles, the expression spreading across her sweet, little face.

“Want me to pop it somewhere safe?” he asks, gesturing to the small keepsake.

Mandy nods and passes Tangerine the trinket, her hold gentle as she transfers it into her dad’s far larger hold. He lets go of your hand as he stands, getting up from his crouched position with a groan. Tangerine walks towards the bookshelf and turns around, like an idea suddenly arose in his mind. 

“Say,” he starts, meeting both of your gazes. “What would you say about having company for dinner, Mands?”

“It depends what we have,” she jokes, voice mischievous like that of a younger Tangerine — she really is her father’s daughter.

“How about,” you draw out as you twist to face her, tapping your chin like you were pretending to think. 

“Waffles,” she interrupts.

“Waffles?” you repeat, tone dramatised. “I was thinking more worms and ear wax.”

She laughs as she repeats your suggestion, shaking her head as she does so.

“Wanna know what I had in mind?” Tangerine chimes in, joining the pair of you on the floor. He waits a beat before continuing. “Toenail soup.”

Mandy turns to look at you and laughs. The noise genuine and sincere as she finds amusement in your company.

“Are you staying?” she questions, looking between you and her dad.

“Not if we’re having toenail soup,” you joke and shake your head. “Only if you want me here.”

She keeps her eyes on her father, nodding subtly at him as if she’s suddenly grown shy.

“She does,” Tangerine speaks for his girl, his arms opening up for her as she bashfully knocks her head into his chest. “I think she also wants to say something else, ain’t that right, Mands?” he prompts, patting her on the back. “Something beginning with ‘s’?”

She mumbles and groans faintly. “Sorry I was mean,” she mutters, hiding. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you say softly, laying a gentle hand on her back below Tan’s. “Change isn’t easy— I struggle with it too. And what you’re going through is such a big thing— such a big change. But me and your dad are both here, okay? And I… and I love you both and I want to be there for each of you.”

Tangerine reaches for your hand with his spare, left one, giving it a squeeze as if to show his gratitude — his appreciation for your patience and support. You return the act with one of your own, pulsing his hand and interlocking with his fingers. You look down to your hand, noticing the absence of a gold band on his ring finger. 

He’s always been good at stashing things in his pockets.

There will still be space in his heart for his lost love, but now, he’s just making more room for you.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[freshlyprinted]

I’m afraid this dislike for potential in-laws might be the only thing Gwansik inherited from his family

[kpopgirlbtssvt]

SOOOO CUTE

Much like I did dad!carmy, I’m having thoughts… baby fever is wild aint it

𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞

Dad! Tangerine who is shocked when you tell him your pregnant, he doesn’t quite know how to react or what to do.

Dad! Tangerine who despite being scared out of his mind, stays with you the whole time, and tries his best anyways.

Dad! Tangerine who’s not always home because of his work, but he tries every single day to get done early for you.

Dad!tangerine who is defensive the second the babies born, holding her with the biggest heart eyes ever.

(He’s such a girl dad idc)

He’s making sure your okay more than anything though, not letting you do anything when you both get home.

“Tan, I’m fine I swear-“ you mumbled and was about to get up when he stopped you quickly.

“Lay back down, love. I got her.” He mumbled, tired but gets up nonetheless.

Dad! Tangerine who stands up, cradling your guys daughter, shushing at her. His eyes begging for sleep, but he knew you were more tired than him, and he felt bad for not being around too much.

Dad!Tangerine who sighs in relief when he finally puts her down again, kissing her forehead and making his way back into the bedroom.

The corners of his mouth twitching up when he sees you sleeping peacefully again.

Dad!tangerine who will do anything for his daughter, trying even harder now to conceal his identity when working

Dad!tangerine who gets lemon to babysit when you’re extra tired, and you need a break.

Dad!Tangerine who takes you out on a date when that does happen, you both talking and getting away from the world

And when your daughter is older, he teaches her to protect herself, how to use a gun, and how to fight in general.

Dad!Tangerine who smiles when she first called him “daddy” you smiling along, clapping at her.

Dad!Tangerine who is overprotective of both you and his daughter, making sure that no one comes near you

he’d be the best dad. •_•

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dad!Tangerine x wife!reader

Summary: Tangerine and your daughter go grocery shopping.

Genre: Just fluff <3

Warnings: jealousy (nothing super serious)

~ in honor of Father's Day 🤍 and this is officially an apology for breaking your hearts with Last Kiss… ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

There was nothing Tangerine hated more than grocery stores. No matter how clean, they always smell like dust, and no matter how empty, they are always loud. 

This afternoon, the new, hip, pop music is blasting across the store's multiple speakers and Tangerine almost considers covering his poor daughter's little ears because of how loud and obnoxious it all is. But, she's sleeping so darn peacefully, he's afraid that touching her more than the firm hand he has on her little head will disturb her.

He walks down to the baby food aisle, pushing his shopping cart with one hand. Thank God you had insisted on buying this ridiculously expensive baby carrier. It makes life so much easier and it's snug around his hips, keeping Maisie secured to his chest. Tangerine looks at all the brands on the shelves, taking his time, as he tries to find the ones you like best for her. After all, you spend more time with Maisie than he does—because of his job and all. Which is exactly why when he's home, he likes doing all the things you usually do—including shopping. 

Maisie makes a little sound, indicating that she's stirring awake and Tangerine smiles. "Hiya, Pipsqueak," he whispers as her round blue eyes blink up at him. Her small mouth forms into an 'O' and she hiccups, blinking rapidly. Tangerine bounces her in the carrier, his hand patting her back, anticipating her crying and, distracted by the movement, Maisie giggles. 

"There ya go," Tangerine praises, his smile widening. 

"She's very cute," a woman's voice interrupts the happy moment and Tangerine looks behind him. She looks around his age, early-thirties, with chestnut brown hair and wide hazel eyes. She's pretty, he makes the observation—objectively, of course. No woman compares to you in his eyes so he doesn't linger on the passing thought. The woman has her own child, a rowdy little boy who is half-hanging off the shopping cart he's strapped to. 

"How old is she?" 

"Almost seven months," Tangerine answers politely and turns to his food choices. Maisie makes a little sound and he coos, "I know, Pip, don't these all look so good?" as he caresses her wisps of hair.

He holds the little jar of orange pudding over Maisie, watching her eyes move with the jar, and he reads the label; Apricot and Beef. His nose scrunches in disgust. "Bloody hell," he mumbles and shakes his head, discarding the jar back onto the shelf.

"Are you a single dad?" The woman asks again, her son making loud car noises and Tangerine's mood instantly sours. 

"Oi, what kinda question is that?" he turns back to her, sounding offended. He's still bouncing Maisie, his gaze narrows at the woman, hoping his wedding ring becomes obvious. 

The woman pales at his tone and she raises her hands in a surrendering motion. "I- I didn't mean any harm," she mutters and her gaze drops to his hand. "Oh," she finishes, her cheeks becoming pink. Tangerine's gaze hardens as he becomes increasingly annoyed by this entire interaction. 

"I think she only asked because it's rare to see a man in this position," another woman interrupts cheerily from his opposite side. She is also wearing a baby carrier, but her daughter is much older than Maisie and she rests against the woman's back, her small hands hitting her mother's shoulder.

This woman is older and her eyes look tired. "I sure wish my husband would offer to take the children and do the groceries once in a while, if only so I could have a moment to myself. How long have you been married?"

Tangerine's expression softens as he looks between the women. What an fucking odd situation, he thinks. "Four years," he says. He smiles. He truly takes any chance given to talk about you and his marriage. "Been together for a little more than eight now though." His smile widens a little, your beautiful face popping into his mind. Maisie bables, drool getting on his chemise, but he just chuckles. "Quite a long time, huh, Pip?"  

The older woman smiles, wrinkles crinkling near her eyes. "Ah, the honeymoon phase—although, I'm sure it will last if you keep this up." She gestures towards him. The younger one, who is now holding her boy as he fusses in her arms, nods as well and she sends Tangerine a strained smile. She's looking at him with envy, but he can't blame her. His gaze drifts to her wedding ring. Her husband must be a real bellend. 

"It'll last," he says, grabbing some baby crackers and dropping them in his cart. "And a bit of friendly advice for ya." He looks back at the younger woman, smiling without his eyes. "Tell yer good for nothing husband to man the fudge up or leave his sorry arse. Kay?"

She seems speechless and he pats Maisie's back as she makes another gurgle and he rolls his cart past the woman. He pauses and reaches up higher than she can, grabbing some squeezable apple sauce from the top shelf. He'd noticed her debating on how to reach them, her eyes flickering to them during the conversation. He hands them to her and her eyes widen. 

"Oh, how did you—"

"By paying attention," he shrugs, looking between the women again. "Evenin'," he nods his head and walks away. 

He can't deny the thrill of being better. Better than their husbands, better than most men. It makes him feel superior and the closest to perfect he can be. He beams. He can't wait to tell you this when he gets home.

Maisie keeps on babbling at him, her tiny hands reaching for the lapels of his suit. He looks at her adoringly and nods, "Daddy did good, didn't he? Yeah," he chuckles and looks around, until he catches the plant section. "Now what kind of flowers do ya think Mummy would want, hm, Pip?"  

* * *

You've fallen asleep on the couch by the time Tangerine and Maisie come home. Your book is resting open on your chest as you snore slightly, your hair slightly damp from your shower.

Still, no matter how quietly your husband closes the door, you hear the sound. You've trained yourself to hear every little noise around the house because of Maisie. 

"Sorry, luv, I didn' wanna wake you," he says with a smile and unclasps the carrier, one hand under Maisie's bum as he slips the strap down his shoulder. You stand, yawning behind your hand as you walk over to him. He leans down and kisses your cheek, handing you the roses he'd picked. You take them, thanking him immediately as you smile brightly. Tangerine kisses your lips and then you bend down to pick up the groceries from the floor. You blink the haziness from your vision as Tangerine secures Maisie in his arms, the carrier put away. You caress your daughter's cheek and smile, walking into the kitchen.

Once you're inside and have found a vase, you arrange the pink and red roses. Tangerine buckles Maisie into the reclined infant seat, cooing sounds at her and it makes you smile. You move to the brown paper bag. "Oh, you found the ones I like," you hum, starting to put away the food. You hand Tangerine the baby crackers and he takes a sticky baby-plate and arranges some for Maisie. She gurgles happily when she sees them. 

"You were very specific, darling." Tangerine chuckles, breaking the crackers into smaller pieces for Maisie. 

He walks behind you, his hand skimming your stomach as he presses his chest against your back. Your eyes flutter closed and you lean into him, sighing. Exhaustion falls over you again, your body tired and relaxed. "How was your snooze?" He whispers in your ear. 

"Perfect," you say with a smile. "Thank you for going."

"Anything for you."

Tangerine rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to cup his cheek. "Was she fussy?"

"Nah, she was an angel," he smirks against your neck, pressing a kiss to your skin. "Although, some ladies seemed quite interested in 'er. And me, I suppose," he says with some cheek, hoping you take the bait.

When you spin around, your back pressed to the counter, he knows he won. His gaze flickers to Maisie, making sure she's okay, and then he looks at you again. 

"What happened?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. Not out of suspicion that something did happen. But simply because he's wearing that expression. You poke his cheek. "You're smiling like something happened," you tease. 

Tangerine shrugs. "What can I say, married women seem to love me. Some of them asked if I was a single dad."

Now your gaze hardens. "They what?"

Tangerine laughs and cups your cheek, kissing near your eye. "Don't look so gutted, my luv. Told 'em about you. Showed 'em my ring and all. They did sing my praises however, best husband or what not—" he winks, a smug grin creeping up his face. 

You cross your arms, now holding in your smirk. "Oh, they said that? For what? Grocery shopping for me? For our daughter?" 

"Guess so. Some husbands they must have. Miserable, innit?" Tangerine rolls his eyes. 

You laugh wholeheartedly now, placing your hands on his chest. "Aren't I lucky," you say it with a hint of sarcasm, but behind the playful tone, you do mean every word.

You are lucky.

Tangerine hums and leans in, his lips almost touching yours. He's still smiling, his eyes soft. "So lucky."

You nod, kissing him. "Mmm. The luckiest."

The sound of crackers falling from Maisie's hand interrupts the moment and you pull away, fussing over her as Tangerine continues to put away the groceries. You pick Maisie up, handing her a new small cracker. She gnaws on it happily, her consistency softening in her mouth. She's smiling up at you as she chews, babbling at you. 

"So damn talkative," Tangerine hums from behind you, closing the fridge.

 You nuzzle into Maisie's head, wiping some cracker crumbs from her lips. "He is such a complainer— you're just a little chatterbox, hmm?"

Another gurgle and a grin. 

"Heard that," Tangerine calls. 

You playfully narrow your gaze, ignoring him. You kiss Maisie's cheeks, putting her back into the chair and turn to ask Tangerine to prepare one of the fruit purées for her but he's already stirring the small spoon in the glass jar. You smile, your gaze softening. "You're such an overachiever," you say with a laugh.

He grins. "I'm adaptable. I think ahead."

"Show off."

"You love me."

You nod, "I do."

"And I love you."

"I would hope so," you say as he walks towards you and captures your lips with his again. 

"I love you more than anything," he says and then his gaze drifts towards Maisie behind you, her wide eyes staring at him and he smiles softly. "Maybe not anything," he adds and you turn your head as well, your smile obvious.

"Mm, of course."

Tangerine straightens up and smells the jar, his nose wrinkling. "You promise we aren't killing our daughter by feeding her this shit? Smells proper nasty."

"Promise. Now give it here you big drama queen," you say and take the jar from him. You take a spoonful for Maisie and bring it to her mouth. "Daddy is such a drama queen, isn't he, Maisie?" 

Tangerine rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Oi, stop bad mouthing me to our kid." 

"Sooo dramatic." 

Maisie makes a little sound and both your hearts melt on the spot. The banter dies and you both look at your daughter with love and adoration. Tangerine glances at you and you lock eyes, simply smiling. 

And at that moment, nothing else matters.

[mrs-johnson]

“Little Trainer”

Dad!Tangerine x Mum!Reader x Uncle!Lemon + baby daughter

Warnings: nothing but fluff

Summary: your daughter beings mimicking a workout video on the television 

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains as the house remained quiet—too quiet. Tangerine sat at the kitchen table in his robe, sipping his espresso with one eye open, hair a mess, still trying to remember what day it was. Lemon was leaning against the fridge, munching toast like he hadn’t slept at all.

And in the middle of the living room, your baby girl was busy changing lives.

Well… changing positions, anyway.

You stepped out of the bedroom rubbing your eyes, only to freeze in place when you spotted her on the rug, legs planted wide, bum in the air, head nearly touching the floor as she stared intently at the yoga video playing on the TV.

“Oh my god,” you whispered with a grin. “Is she… doing yoga?”

Lemon turned to look and nearly dropped his toast. “She’s doin’ downward dog, bruv! Look at her!”

Tangerine leaned sideways to peek around the corner, still holding his cup. “No way.”

Your baby was wobbling slightly but determined, watching the instructor on the screen as if it were gospel. She grunted, adjusted her little legs in her white cotton shorts, and held the pose with the absolute seriousness of a mini guru.

“She’s better at this than me,” you said, blinking in disbelief.

“She’s better than you? She’s better than me, love,” Tangerine said, standing now, completely awake. “I pull somethin’ every time I bend down to tie my shoes.”

Lemon snorted, grabbing his phone to take a picture. “She’s gonna go viral. #BabyBootCamp.”

Your daughter dropped to her knees, gave a satisfied baby squeal, then immediately flopped onto her back and began kicking her feet proudly in the air.

“Right, that’s her workout done,” Tangerine said, walking over to scoop her up. “How ‘bout a protein shake—aka mashed banana and oat cereal?”

She giggled and grabbed at his curls, to which he muttered, “Oi, personal trainer or not, don’t touch the hair.”

“She’s following in your footsteps already,” you said with a smirk, walking over to kiss her forehead. “Stylish, stubborn, and apparently into fitness.”

Lemon walked past you with his toast held like a mic. “Oi, can we talk about how she’s the only one here who’s done any form of exercise today?”

“Get out, Lemon,” you and Tangerine said in unison.

⸻

Later that day…

The TV was still playing workout videos, and your daughter was now passed out on the rug in a deep nap, one leg still awkwardly bent in yoga fashion. Tangerine pulled a blanket over her while Lemon sat on the floor beside her, trying to copy the pose she had done earlier.

He groaned. “How do babies do this?! My spine’s cryin’.”

Tangerine shook his head. “Because she’s bendy and you’re ancient.”

“I’m younger than you!”

“Not in the back, you ain’t.”

You smiled, curled on the couch with a mug of tea, watching your chaotic little family fall apart trying to imitate a baby’s morning workout routine.

Best. Day. Ever.

[little-tangerines]

he felt so proud of himself he had to brag to someone

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[kpopgirlbtssvt]

If anyone wants to write this, you can!!

Omgg imagine Dad!Tangerine and Uncle!Lemon x 2 year old girl where her parents had worked for The Son as his personal chef and maid, and they basically lived in his penthouse apartment with their 2 year old daughter. When the Son was abducted, the bad guys unfortunately k*lled her parents to avoid witnesses, and when they saw the little girl, they panicked because they had no idea there’d be a child, and they took her with them as well. So when The Twins go to that warehouse to “save” The son (after they were paid to by the White Death), and after taking everyone out, they hear soft crying and then go searching, and they look down and there’s a little girl looking up at them with tears in her eyes, Tangerine quickly picking her up and covering her eyes (so she doesn’t see the horror scene that they had left the warehouse. They are really soft with her, trying not to scare her any more than she already is, but they can’t get out of her who her parents are (they’re lowkey scared they might have offed them or something in the warehouse). She seems to be clinging to Tangerine, finally feeling safe in the hands of these two men, which shocks the twins, anyways, when they get on the train they ask the Son who this little girl is and when he explains what happened to her parents, the twins are honestly horrified and so sad for the little girl and they take her in and protect her the whole time on the train, the little girl clinging to Tangerine and being so attached to him already that Lemon jokes that she has “imprinted” on him like a baby chick would to their Mom lol

[icyfox17]

wayfinder

Buck takes this moment to finally say, “I'm Buck by the way.” “Bobby,” the man—Bobby—answers. Buck looks at Bobby, studying him. “Yeah, you look like a Bobby.” Bobby's eyebrows both furrow while also raise in confusion. “What is that supposed to mean?” Buck shrugs. “It means you look like a Bobby.” Bobby laughs, disbelief filling the air but it sounds good natured. “Whatever kid.”

Or, Bobby fresh out of rehab is on a roadtrip across the States as recommended by his sponsor Wendall. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but Wendall told him it's more about the journey anyway than the destination. Buck's been on his roadtrip of soul searching for four years now and still hasn't found what he's looking for. The two of them run into each other and find out that maybe it wasn't a what they were looking for but a who.

Or, or, a story of healing and finding one's self again.

Chapter 1/? | 3,309 Words | Read on Ao3