#lemon bullet train imagine

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 10

ten. tangerine: indistinct by design.

Summary: Tangerine has no idea how to feel about Clementine's possibly attempts at manipulation, he doesn't have the time. None of them do, a fact which is only made more frustrating when Clementine tries to insist on leaving The Twins to do her actual job.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 2669 words. hello it's been five months its good to see you! yes i'm still writing this, but i'm also working internationally at my day job so that's been taking up a lot of my life lol. but i get so happy every time i think of this fic, even though I was SO stuck on this for MONTHS. anyways, i love you, i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think?

Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: light discussions of murder

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @chuyouchu @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @folkloreandfall @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @thyeb @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair @nina-isabelle @queenofspades403 @ayaahaddadd @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

---

Clementine's already dubiously murky motivations were growing even harder to guess at as the day went on. Perhaps she was trying to get him on side, lull him into a false sense of security, sway his perception of her despite everything he'd learned that day. The part that Tangerine found rather infuriating, however, was that it was kind of working. Little things were adding up, things she'd mentioned today, memories of moments back in New York that kept resurfacing, and now, something about the way she'd admitted that making him happy was never part of her job description, he couldn't help but begin to think she was being genuine, at least about that.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, let alone her, not that he had time to feel things; later? Perhaps. Now? Not so much.

Slipping into the seat across the aisle from his brother, he can see Lemon's working hard to retain his composure, and despite how tense he's feeling, Tangerine does at least allow himself to breathe. He doesn't relax, persay; none of them are, and he's rather sure none of them really can, even if Clementine may look like she's never experienced a damn hardship in her life. While she's wearing that little smile that almost looks pleased as she sits daintily across from him, gaze roaming, searching the cabin in a way that anyone else could misconstrue as simply curious, Tangerine knows it all too well as her planning her possible escape routes. Lemon takes his focus for the moment, however, glancing furtively between them both.

"Well that couldn't 've gone better," he offers, more hopeful than anything else.

"Yeah, let's hope they buy it," Tangerine grimaces, before looking between them both, "we need to find that glasses twat like right - the fuck - now -" 

Except Clementine's phone buzzes. 

All three of them turn their attention to her bag.

"What. Now." Tangerine says through his teeth, practically oozing frustration. Clementine, having frantically fished the phone from the bag's depths, looks at the screen, seemingly ignoring him as she stands abruptly. 

"Royal pain," she mutters, mostly to herself, and makes a start towards the back end of the train. Before she can abscond, Tangerine's grabbing her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The moment she looks at his hard expression, it's as if she suddenly remembered he was there at all.  

"Something more important to get to?" 

"Actually yes," Clementine says with surprising ire, "my job." Again Tangerine's mind lights up at the thought of the girl in first class, and the dishevelled man in the seat adjacent who she'd called her Uncle. Right. Weird. Not his problem right now. 

"She's got her Uncle, she'll be fine for a few minutes -"

"What?" Clementine says so sharply he could swear he could feel the sting. A strange look flashes across her face but she can't seem to regain her composure entirely - "no, I really have to go. If I see our man I'll be sure to send him your way -"

"Just one more question, Clem, I promise," it's Lemon's voice that cuts her off, altogether far lighter, far more amicable and earnest, "just before you go; I'm curious." Tangerine notes how he'd used her nickname with such ease, sounding almost jarring, at least to him, since Lemon had exclusively been referring to her as The Scorpion since that revelation - faint surprise reads on Clementine's face, but still she grants him a hesitant smile. 

"Not sure if there's time for that," she tells him, still standing, though her tone is almost apologetic. Almost. Lemon's smile is bereft of humour in a way that rather unnerved his brother.

"Humour me would you?"

After a moment of hesitation, Clementine obligingly sits once more. All three of them hear her phone vibrate where she's got it clutched to her chest. Both brothers look to it, but Clementine just holds it a little tighter.

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon asks her, "you're not really from the states; the Late, unfortunate Son of our boss implied as much; whaddya sound like when you're not talking to us?"

"What a dangerous question," her tone and smile indicate that she's impressed with his audacity, but she doesn't answer the question, "making a scrapbook? Is this how you choose to waste time?" It evidentially comes out a little harsher than she'd probably meant it, a sure but surprising sign that he'd touched a nerve.

"Careful with your tone there," Tangerine warns, "just call it part of the explanation you owe us." Tangerine backs up his brother's line of questioning without hesitation.

"I don't think it is," there's a new, faint reservation in her words; despite her promises, she still can't fully commit to being honest with them, "it's not the same; you two don't put the same kind of effort into obfuscating your identities."

"Big word for a girl like you, isn't it? Obfuscating," Tangerine's condescending tone allows a crack in Clementine's armour; she rolls her eyes, expression dropping and lips pursing. Still, he continues to needle her for the information, "you're doing more than your fair share of that now, aren't you?"

"It's my speciality," she gives a flat smile but can't look him in the eyes. She crosses her arms, seemingly letting go of the bright demeanour for a moment, falling back into being quiet and sullen; there's something about the question that appears to bring her more genuine discomfort than Tangerine had expected, "why are you asking me this, Lemon?" Her gaze keeps flicking around, both the cabin behind them, and the Twins themselves, though never looking them in the eyes.

"We want to trust you," it escapes Lemon before his brother can speak, appearing to catch both Clementine and Tangerine off guard.

"I don't believe that," she huffs a quiet laugh, gaze now focused down the aisle ahead of her. After a very long moment of deliberation, however, she takes a deep breath, "what was the question again?"

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon repeats flatly.

"In which language?"

"English, Clem," he sighs, but the irate edge has softened from his voice. Clementine glances over her shoulder for a moment, but then meets his gaze with a vaguely confused frown. Then, seemingly having processed whatever it was that had confused her, she makes a strange expression.

"I heard English in so many accents growing up, lots of tapes from all over the world, I think so I wouldn't have one that would be my default, I think they were afraid that when I was young, if I got into a situation where my accent would drop, it would be telling."

Her phone buzzes again, but this time she just places it face down on the table. 

"You don't know," Tangerine says flatly.

"I don't know," Clementine agrees, once more looking distinctly uncomfortable, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I don't know what you expected'.

"So when you, say, default back -"

"I don't default to English," she pointed out. 

"Wouldn't your honest accent be based on your first language then?" Lemon points out, but Clementine shifts, again with an unfamiliar discomfort.

"Steps were taken to erase defining parts of my identity."

"That sounds downright fucking terrifying; what do you mean?"

"It's far more helpful than you might think, though some of the methods could stand to perhaps be more gentle," she gives an awkward, almost self deprecating laugh, before looking straight at Lemon with a vacant smile, "I'm fully ambidextrous, no preference for left or right, always have been."

"Is that why he took fingers instead of a whole hand?" Tangerine hears himself asking. Clementine, however, looks genuinely shocked that he'd made that connection.

"Among several other reasons," she said slowly, "yes." Then, with another furtive glance and a buzz from her phone, "Lemon, you know I'd love to chat and explain myself to you until I'm blue in the face, but we really don't have the time." Lemon's quick to thank her for her willingness to humour him, gesturing as if to say that she's no longer bound by social contract. Again, her phone buzzes as she picks it up and both brothers see her grimace as she goes to answer, voice growing faint as she trots hurriedly away. They both hear how she answers in a completely new accent, however, and Tangerine knows, clear as day, that it's a mirror of the young woman he'd met up in first class -

"What have you done now -"

"Spooky that is," Lemon muses after a moment, before he looks sharply to Tangerine, "Russian, right?" 

Tangerine frowns obvious confusion.

"Her accent," though he amends without even a beat, "or, no, her original accent; do you think she's Russian too?" 

"As far as probability goes," Tangerine says after a bit of thought, "chances aren't zero, I'll give you that."

"Well what's your leading theory?"

"I have bigger things to worry about than Clementine's country of origin, like that fuck with our case, and a fuckin' murder mystery," Tangerine scowls, "what's it even matter now?"

"I've been thinking- well, I've been panicking, wracking my brains," Lemon's half-rambling, leaning across the table to whisper to Tangerine the moment Clementine's out of earshot; his gaze doesn't stray from the door she'd disappeared through, "tryna figure out how she's connected to what happened with you in Russia all those years ago, and for the life of me I can't figure it out otherwise."

"So you think she is Russian?" Tangerine, despite his scepticism, matches his brother's low tone, meeting his conspiratorial energy.

"It matters because I can't rightly remember the details of the case, and I was hung up on them for years because I thought you'd end up dead, but she -"

"- somehow still remembers well enough to maybe want to kill about it," Tangerine sighed, finally realising where his brother was coming from, "despite not being personally tied to them."

"Allegedly."

"Allegedly." 

"Or she could have been competition."

"What?"

"Like competition for you; The Scorpion kills her competition, right? Maybe that's why? Took her a good few years after that to make a name for herself, right?"

A long silence followed, Tangerine scrubbing his hand over his face as he ruminates upon this.

"She wasn't the first."

"The fuck else have you done that I need to worry about -?!"

"Not the Russia thing, do you really think I wouldn't tell you if I did something like that without you again?" Scowling at his brother, Lemon at least has the grace to give him that. After a long moment, Tangerine exhales his frustration through his nose, sitting back in his seat, "wasn't the first like her, who kills her competition, was she? If she's been doing this for as long as I think, then she's kept a low profile until the past few years; she wasn't the first, and I doubt she'd be cut about that a decade after the fact, even if she was one to hold a grudge that long."

Lemon took a deep breath.

"Maybe that's why she killed The Cockroach."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Scorpion killed The Cockroach," Lemon insists, "'s what I heard, 's why she is the only one who does what she does anymore." It's ringing a very faint bell bell; Tangerine hasn't consciously thought about The Cockroach in a very long time. All Tangerine tries recalling everything he'd heard about the operative in the few years they had been operating, but he can't call to mind much that's positive.

They'd been scum, with friends in high places that kept them from being a target the way they sought to target other operatives in their path. Rumours said they were like an alien to encounter, cold and strange to anyone outside of their targets, bug-like with they way they watched, and their skittish nature; he thinks he recalls the derisive way someone once compared them to a preying mantis, or an alien. The Cockroach, despite their reputation, and everything they were rumoured to have done, everything they'd supposedly endured. Even when they weren't targeted by fellow operatives, their jobs were often said to be dangerous and required close contact. The Cockroach was said to be unkillable, in more ways than one.

But then, one day, though Tangerine supposed it would be a different day for everyone, he realised he hadn't heard anything about The Cockroach in months. Everyone stopped hearing about The Cockroach, but no-one really acknowledged it, or knew why. Rumours circulated of course -

"You know I'm right," Lemon says, sounding just a touch smug in the way he only ever did when he was menacing his brother. 

"I think you're distracting yourself -"

"You're thinking about it, and you know I'm right."

"Well right now she's not trying to kill us, so I don't give half a shit about who she has killed, or if she's Russian, or English, or American -"

"Well once we untangle ourselves from this bloody mess, ten-to-one odds she's gonna decide to start being a problem, so it matters -"

"Not right now it doesn't," Tangerine snapped finally, and took a moment to attempt to compose himself with very little success, "we're looking for that glasses-fuck; I'm gonna go up, you go down, double back when you're done. If you see him, fuckin' deal with him, yeah?" 

His brother is covered in blood that Tangerine hopes to God isn't his; he can't look at him right now, even as he's finally focusing back on their situation at hand. So Tangerine casts his gaze to the door Clementine had just passed through, trying to keep the description - glasses, blonde, American - in his mind, trying to recall anything else he can about the bastard who'd startled him earlier without Tangerine realising that he'd been the thief. 

Except that it occurs to him that he's not even sure what counts as up and what counts as down on a train. Of course Lemon would know -

"- towards Tokyo," Lemon clarifies, pointing in the other direction, "departing trains are always moving down." In all honesty, Tangerine doesn't know enough about trains to confirm as much, and Lemon already seems to be wary of Tangerine's dubious relationship with Clementine; for all he knows Lemon's concerned about his focus too, and trying to keep him from getting distracted. It doesn't sit well with him, however neither does acknowledging that Clementine has a knack for being able to distract him when she wants to. Either way, he trusts his brother on this - "and look, be careful," Lemon, as if hearing Tangerine's thoughts, turns to him, gaze intense, "something else is going on here," his voice is still low, still conspiratorial, as if he can't bring himself to trust any of the unsuspecting civilians around them, "I feel like there's still another Diesel lurking about." 

Fucking Thomas the Tank Engine.

"I swear to God, what did I say?" Tangerine hissed, fed up with this bit his brother insisted upon doing, "what did I say?" Any other day, hell, any other time he'd humour his brother in this, but right now was not the time - "I said I'd -"

"Shoot me in the face," Lemon finishes with exasperation, but clearly it's more than a bit, "Thomas still taught me how to see people, how to read them for real," he points out firmly, which Tangerine does agree to, "and I'm never wrong, am I?"

"No," Tangerine concedes.

"Glasses," Lemon insists, "he is not our guy. We still have another fuckin' bug to look out for."

Right, The Hornet.

Tangerine lets himself breathe for just a moment. He trusts his brother, he always has; Lemon's instincts have never been wrong before. 

As he pulls out his gun, Tangerine deliberates for a bit, gives himself a million reasons before he hands it over - Lemon's a better shot at close range, if one of them were to spot The Hornet first his money was on Lemon, Lemon's less likely to shoot the wrong person - but knows deep down that if he let his brother leave unarmed, and something happened to him, Tangerine would never forgive himself. 

"Shoot first, come up with the answers later."

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Y/n: Sure!

Y/n: Whats your favorite color?

Tangerine, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?

[sebsbarnes]

co-workers || tangerine

tangerine x female reader (assassin)

summary: "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

warnings: language, violence, fighting, injuries, blood, weapons

word count: 3.4k ; angst, fluff

tangerine masterlist

rocking back and forth on your heels you patiently wait for the bullet train to zip into the shinagawa station. the platform was moderately busy, people dressed for various occasions. some in sophisticated work uniforms, kids bopping along with their school bags, and some dressed for a night out. you, however, were not.

sporting a black jacket, long sleeve turtleneck, leggings, sneakers, and a black bag you could've faded into the growing dark sky but here you are illuminated by the neon lights of the platform begrudgingly watching the bullet train's head lights fly past as it rolled into the station.

you were ordered to be here by your employer at the request of the white death. something about his son and a briefcase of money that needed some extra eyes watching over. apparently, the white death had some gut intuition about the two unnamed men he had hired for the job and wanted your skills onboard. your employer gave you very little detail about what to expect, no description of the briefcase, a grainy photo sent via email of the white death's son who had horrid face tattoos in your personal opinion, and when asked about the men already tasked to the mission your employer replied, 'eh two guys both kind of weird' and left it at that.

you boarded the train and stood near the doors, tight lipped smiling at those who walked by, waiting for the entryway to be clear. kneeling you pulled a small revolver out of a false bottom in the bag and slipped it into an inside pocket of your jacket, next pulling extra rounds and stuffing them into the other available pocket. you fumbled with a small piece of crumbled paper telling you to go to car three and a seat number that the son should be at.

quietly making your way to car three you re-patted your now stuffed pockets, adjusting your jacket and hair to relieve any sort of budding nerves. that is until you noticed the two kind of weird guys your employer told you about.

"well, can spot that fitted suit from a fuckin' city away" the two men stood in front of you who were deep in conversation snapped their necks towards you.

"well darling, and i'd spot that shit box dyed hair from the other side of the fuckin' earth" you couldn't help your arm raising to touch your long, and well dyed hair, at tangerine's rebuttal.

you tried to hide the laugh that threatened to break through as the three of you stood quiet for a few seconds following his comment. lemon broke first pushing past his brother to embrace you in a hug, "haven't see you in a minute, was beginning to get worried."

the three of you knew each other quite well, hell, the three of you lived together for a while. you had been under tangerine and lemon's employer for a long time but shit happens and it was best you found a new employer. lemon was more talkative and affectionate of the two, constantly talking your ear off and giving you hugs whenever he saw you, strictly friends though. tangerine, well, not affectionate and not talkative. it took a while for tangerine to mutter more than five words to you for the longest time. being outright friendly just isn't his nature and you can't fault him for that. the twins cared about you deeply, you knew lemon did within a week. tangerine took more time. it wasn't at the flip of a switch, it was gradual, perhaps may be even more natural.

it was a culmination of things that made you realize the rough man cared and appreciated you. like how after a job the three of you would go eat, you would jokingly (but also quite seriously) say how you were still starving. tangerine would slip you some of his food, 'not that hungry' he'd shrug. or how on missions he unconsciously used himself as a shield for your protection. or when he would come back from being out, holding a plastic bag in hand. 'saw these figured you might need 'em' plopping the bag in front of your seated position at the kitchen table and continued walking before you could comment on the new clothes that replaced the ones recently destroyed on a job.

or how days before you left the previous employer, you, tangerine, lemon, and an additional guy were assigned to a job that did not go so smoothly. it really was no one's fault, no one could've predicted how many men were hiding in the warehouse. each of you sported numerous injuries and lost many weapons but still completed the job. you and the other assassin were alone sitting on the floor when he suddenly started berating you. saying how shit you were as an assassin, spewing hatred and profanities amongst other vile things. you had no energy to fight back, 'maybe you're right' is all you could muster before getting up and searching for a secluded place to sleep for the night. you had awoken from your sleep hours later to the sound of a gunshot, wandering until you found someone.

'tangerine, what was that? i heard a gunshot' you asked the man who was promptly walking away from scaffolding towers.

he looked at you quizzically wiping his hands on his trousers, 'i think you might have been dreaming darlin'' all you could do was rub your head in confusion, 'let's get you back to bed, love.' the next morning only three of you returned from the mission.

"i've missed you, lemon," you smiled pulling away, holding his shoulders to look at him.

you and tangerine exchanged small nods, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. you turned towards the figure seated beside the men stepping to stand in front of who you assume to be the white death's son. to say something seemed off was an understatement. you gently grabbed the ends of his open jacket bobbing his head back.

"what the fuck?!" you jerked back dropping your grip as his body slumped forward. an older woman a few seats up shushed you.

"what the fuck?!" you whispered harshly at the twins, bug-eyed gesturing rapidly at the dead body in front of you.

"ask fuckin' percy over here," tangerine pointed to lemon.

"i'm not percy?! okay yeah i lost the case but i didn't kill the kid."

"well lemon, if you didn't have the brilliant fucking idea to stash the case, we would've been sat our squeaky fuckin' asses down in the seat not havin' to get up. young. sweet. not all there." tangerine hissed back, poking at lemon's forehead to emphasize.

mildly entertained by the twins infamous banter you sat down watching the two go back and forth before tangerine swiveled towards you both hands flat, palms up, pointing at you, "and no disrespect love, but why the hell are you here?"

"to babysit essentially. i'm here to make sure you two do your job and by the looks of it you done fucked that up. what an honor it will be to be ripped limb by limb by the white death with you idiots."

the three of you sat deliberating what the hell to do next and tried figuring out who else is on this train taking interest in the briefcase and the son. tangerine cleaned up the boy's face with his handkerchief and adorned his face with momonga glasses to hide the fact that he's well...dead.

the twins decided it would be effective splitting up and checking the train cars for the briefcase.

"ill stay here," you spoke as the two men grabbed their things to investigate the train.

"what?" tangerine asked eyebrows knotting together.

"i'll stay here. i'll see if anyone comes back for him," gesturing towards the limp body, "besides, my mission is a bit different. i'm not supposed to be seeking danger. if it comes my way then i can step in."

tangerine smooth out his moustache inhaling deeply seeming to oppose you being here by yourself.

"okay well, right then." lemon nodded stalking off down the train.

tangerine hesitated looking down at you in the seat.

"i'll be okay."

that is until ten minutes later a man sat across from you, "hi. there's a gun under this table."

"shhh," you hissed, "this is the quiet car babes."

the man in the hat and glasses took a moment to look over your shoulder at the sign, you took this opportunity to grab his hand, that held no gun, underneath the table yanking his body forward, table smashing into his shoulder.

"who the hell are you." you questioned, still holding onto his hand.

"ladybug. johannesburg, remember? your buddy shot me after you baited me to the parking garage?"

"so you're after the twins?" you asked ignoring what he said.

"the twins have a briefcase i need. i'm really not looking for trouble here miss, i just want to get the hell off this train and go meditate." he sighed taking his free hand through his longer hair.

"so you took the damn briefcase." you released his hand and brought your foot up to kick him in the groin. while he was hunched over in pain you stood up launching towards him to put him in a headlock, "where's the case."

"look lady," he sputtered, "i really don't want to hurt you."

ladybug punched your forearms to loosen your grip and when you didn't budge, he turned his head to bite your wrist.

"what the fuck!" you yelped springing back. he took this moment to sweep your legs out from underneath you. you hit the floor with a loud thud, the ache in your shoulder radiating down your arm. he leaned over your body giving you a weak smile and in return you kicked him in the face, blood instantly pouring out of his nose.

"shit balls!" he exclaimed. you clamored to your feet and started running throughout the bullet train. ladybug's steps got closer and closer and that's when you felt a burning hot sensation on the back of your shoulder. your movement immediately stopped, groaning as you reached for the knife in your back pulling it out.

"prick." you hissed turning around to face the man. your arm swiped in front of his face, the blade making a whooshing noise in the air. you managed to clip the side of his cheek.

thankfully the car the two of you were now fighting in was not occupied. he gripped your arm throwing you against the wall and stalked towards you. you stashed the blade in your pocket, shrugging your jacket to the ground, opting to fight him with your fists. you dodged the first hit and returned him a hit in the jaw. he staggered and taking advantage of his lower stance punched you in the stomach.

"i don't like hurting women." ladybug exasperated as the two of you continued fighting, punches being thrown, skin being split, bodies flying across the car.

"seems like you're in the wrong line of work, dumbass," you gripped the back of his head slamming his face into the top of one of the seats. the crack you heard made you wince. ladybug's forehead was split, blood running down his face into his eye.

it was obvious his physical state was weakening. he swallowed deeply, eyes flickering to a spot beyond you. before you realized what was happening, ladybug was running towards your jacket where the knife was. he managed to grab it and came barreling towards you. once again the battle was back on. the knife dancing between you two as its ownership changed frequently. you and ladybug were a panting mess with new cuts decorating your bodies. this old piece of shit wouldn't let up. you were becoming exhausted and you needed this to end somehow. the two of you were both on the floor, the blade in your hand. you knew you didn't have enough stamina for another round of fighting, the cuts scattering your body were aching, the large stab wound to your shoulder was now numb. instead, you sliced the closest things to you that would cause the most damage.

his achilles.

ladybug screamed out in pain, shaking hands wrapping themselves around his ankles in some attempt to soothe the sheering pain. you stood, looking over the man, the blood from the knife dripping onto your shoe. you stepped around his cradled body, making your way up the train. tangerine hasn't come past yet meaning he is still ahead. the door swished open but you'd only make it one step in before crumbling to the ground.

immediately you started hyperventilating from the intense pain that seemed to hit every nerve in your body. blinking rapidly as you scooted yourself against the wall. then you felt it. a warm sensation running down your skin, your clothes feeling wet. blood. your body was shaking, open lips huffed out puffs of breath. slowly and carefully, you looked back at ladybug.

your gun in his hands.

he must have grabbed it when he retrieved the knife in your abandoned jacket. fucking stupid.

ahead in the train tangerine heard a faint noise, but nonetheless he knew it was a gunshot. he slicked back his hair and removed his gun from his waistband. he carefully entered each train car, observing anything out of the ordinary. the door in front of him opened and his step faltered when he saw a black sneaker, and then a leg, and then the body as his eyes raked up the slumped figure.

he dropped to his knees, gun now on the floor, "hey tan," you croaked.

"bloody hell," he sighed, his eyes darting across your entire body.

"stop checking me out i don't look my best," you tried joking. tangerine didn't seem amused as he noticed your torn clothes, bloody face, your hair matted with blood.

"that old bag of bones can really fight. but he took a cheap shot when my back was to him," you finally answered. you lifted the hem of your shirt to show tangerine the bullet hole in your lower stomach above your hip.

"jesus," he muttered swallowing thickly. he seemed stunned to see you in this condition. he also seemed lost on what to do. his eyes wouldn't stop looking you over, his hands unconsciously went to your face brushing your hair out of your eyes.

"tangerine stop fucking staring at her we need to help her," lemon had found the two of you. his voice booming causing tangerine to snap out of his daze.

lemon pushed him to the side, immediately coming to your aid. he worked with what he could find. your shallow cuts weren't important. the wound to your shoulder would need stitches later on. the entrance and exit wound of the bullet was causing the biggest issue as you had lost a decent amount of blood from it. lemon continued to do his best as you sat there eyelids half open.

tangerine was silent, more silent than ever before, as if he were stuck in a trance. you slowly moved your fingers towards his hand that was resting on the floor. two of your fingers wrapped around his pinky jerking him out of his trance. this somehow sparked something in him as he shot up from the floor, grabbing his gun making sure it was loaded and set off on a mission you could only assume to be to find ladybug.

your lips pulled down in a frown as he left. you wanted him here. his presence, his touch, his whatever. any semblance of that cocky man you wanted next to you for comfort. you knew you were going to be okay, you were weak right now but the thought of him beside you somehow made you believe you would feel stronger.

lemon let out a soft chuckle as he finished securing cloth to your wound, "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

you slapped his arm, "fuck off."

lemon and you agreed you need to rest, he helped you to sit in an empty seat, propping you against the window.

"alright, now, if anything serious happens i will text you alright. in the meantime, sit here and wait till we come get you, you hear me?" lemon demanded.

sometime had passed and you noticed less and less people on the platforms boarding the train. it was too quiet. your stomach was telling you something was off. you winced in pain as you gripped the armrest to stand up. a bit wobbly but you managed to put one foot in front of the other. as you continued you heard voices close by. the doors to one of the cars was open by bags tripping the sensors. you saw a young girl in pink standing looking scared and him. the greasy haired prick who shot you. he still had your gun in his hand pointed at someone.

tangerine.

"fuck." thankfully you held onto the knife and before he could notice you moving towards their train car you brought your arm over your head, swinging forward, releasing the knife. it lodged itself below ladybug's collarbone. he yelped out in pain stumbling a bit and that's when his finger hit the trigger.

"you bastard," tangerine hissed as the bullet hit his leg.

you took this opportunity while the men were distracted and ran towards ladybug. you propelled yourself onto him, spinning and wrapping your legs around his neck, you removed the blade from his chest and stuck it in the base of his neck.

"you don't touch him," you spit at the man as he crumbled to the ground.

the girl was long gone. now facing tangerine you noticed all the bruises and blood on him, drenched in sweat. his curly hair now laying across his forehead. his jacket long gone leaving him in a white button down that was criminally low on his chest and a vest. you couldn't help but check him out.

he started to say your name but you cut him off, hugging him tightly around his neck, knocking the wind out of him. he hesitated a moment before firming wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your hair. after a few minutes he pulled back, sliding his hands to your waist to look at you. you held onto tangerine's elbows as his eyes wandered your face.

"darlin'," he started, "i'm- i'm sorry i didn't do anything when i found ya."

you chuckled through your nose, "tan. i'm fine."

"you're injured n' i didn't do anything except fuckin' look at you." he shook his head in disgust.

"tangerine," you said firmly placing your hands on his chest, "stop. i am fine. i am okay. we all react differently to seeing our friends hurt."

"friends, " he half laughed, "you realize i don't see you as a friend."

you paused, hands loosening their grip on his arms. god, you were dumb to think you were even friends. you're coworkers, hell at this point maybe even acquaintances, its been five months since you lived with them. all you could mutter was a shaky 'oh.'

tangerine laughed, "you know love, you can really be dense sometimes."

your mouth formed an 'o' trying to figure out what to say next, "dense?"

"love, i've wanted you the moment you almost sniped my head off in vienna." tangerine chuckled, moving hair out of your face. you couldn't look at him instead you toyed with his open shirt, fingers brushing against his hot skin.

"i guess i am kinda dumb right? should've put the pieces together when you killed anyone who was mean to me." you smiled.

he leaned down gently placing a kiss on your lips. you immediately kissed back, tasting the metallic flavor of the blood that was on his lower lip. your nails ran across his scalp sending a shiver down his spine. tangerine gripped your lower back harder, minding the wound, to bring you in as close as physically possible.

tangerine pulled away from the kiss, bringing his mouth to your ear, "by the way darlin', you spinning around on his neck and what you said was really hot."

"then i suggest we get the fuck off this train soon and i'll show you the move personally."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x wife!fem!reader

Summary: When your sister's new mystery fiancé is someone you know from university, your husband isn't very happy.

Genre: fluff and hurt and comfort

Warnings: protective!Tangerine, reader is pregnant, mentions of stalking, knife/gun wounds, swearing, suggestive ending.

~ thank you to the anon who requesting this! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"Ah," you groan, burning yourself on the saucer as you transfer the pasta into the strainer over the sink. Your husband, who'd just finished setting the table to his liking, peeks his head inside the kitchen. 

"You ok, luv?" he asks, coming over and guiding your hand to the faucet where he turns on the cool water, "All better, yeah?" he asks, almost mocking in the kindest way and he kisses the crown of your head as the water runs over your wounded palm. 

"My poor girl," Tangerine is really laying it on thick now as he kisses behind your ear. "D'ya need me to finish up here?"

You turn, looking up at him, and nod, "Would you? They're coming over at nine and I haven't even showered or changed—and the warmth is making me feel all woozy." You emphasize this point by fanning at your face with your wet hand, water droplets cooling your skin, and Tangerine cups his hand over your stomach. 

"'Course my darlin'. What an awful husband I am havin' ya cook while you're pregnant. I'm sorry, my luv," he says genuinely, ignoring your attempt to remind him you'd wanted to make the meal since it's your sister's favorite, as he practically shoos you away. 

"I'll call ya down when they've arrived, hm?" 

You nod, smiling as you make your way up the stairs to shower and change for dinner.

As the oldest, you've always been protective over your sister. Andy had this tendency to jump into situations impulsively and when she'd called and gushed over her new fiancé, you had been slightly concerned for her considering she'd gotten engaged within just four months of meeting him. 

So, with Tangerine's approval, you had invited them both over for dinner. 

Once you finish adjusting your dress in the mirror, you make your way downstairs and smile at the familiar sound of Andy's rambling.

The room smells like the spaghetti you'd started and Tangerine had finished, and you see that he has poured both Andy and her fiancé a glass of wine.

He hasn't poured one for himself considering he doesn't drink when you don't. 

Seeing you, Andy instantly squeals and rushes up to pull you into her arms. "Oh my, just look at you," Andy exclaims and looks at your dress, which shows your baby bump, "You been taking good care of my darling sister?" She looks at Tangerine with a light-hearted frown and points at him accusingly. 

"Mmhm, only the best for my darlin'," Tangerine smirks and moves closer so he can kiss your cheek. You feel all warm and fuzzy inside as you smile at your husband. You're too preoccupied with your happiness to fully hear Andy introduce her new fiancé until Tangerine nudges your shoulder and you look up at your sister's future husband. 

You're happy you hadn't been holding a wine glass because it would have fallen onto the ground instantly.

"This is Oliver," Andy says, hugging him closely as she draws hearts on his chest. The man is tall and slim and he has dusty blond hair. His eyes, which the blue reminds you of Tangerine's, are piercing into yours and you shudder. 

You know him. 

Tangerine can see your discomfort and he squeezes your hand. He doesn't mention it. He doesn't want to make a scene and he's distracted by Oliver shaking his hand. "Hi," Oliver then moves his hand to you and he continues to stare. You feel sick but you know you have to shake his hand anyway.

"Hi," you answer and strain a smile.

Andy jumps in immediately with a new topic of conversation, happily introducing the man she loves to you and Tangerine. You feel like you're underwater as you stare at Oliver and all those memories; of the bundles of flowers and the endless phone calls swarm and drown you. 

Tangerine's hand in yours is the only thing now keeping you above water.  

"Excuse me," you say early into dinner as Tangerine finishes serving everyone some pasta. You've barely sat down but you suddenly feel sick to your stomach so you rush to the bathroom.

After only a moment, you hear your husband's worried voice from behind the bathroom door. 

"My luv, are you alright in there? Is everything okay?" he calls and raps on the door with his knuckles. 

You let him in instantly, your eyes round as you pull him inside the bathroom. Tangerine stumbles inside and looks you up and down with confusion. 

"The baby's okay," you reassure him breathlessly and his expression softens.

"I didn't ask if the baby was okay," he says gently but places his hand on your stomach as a way to show he's grateful the baby is okay, "I asked if you were okay, my heart." 

You look up at him, holding in your frustrated tears. "I know Oliver," you whisper. 

Tangerine frowns but he understands what you mean. "You do?" 

You nod and start to explain. "Yeah, I know him from university. We were classmates freshman year and then—it became weird. Remember that stalker I had? It's him. He was obsessed with me and would ask me out numerous times and when he finally asked for my number, he wouldn't stop calling and following me around. The university got involved and he left junior year. I haven't heard or seen him since but Tan, I know it's him. I just know," you sound scared and your husband hates the sound.

"Sweetheart," he says and pulls you in closer, his hands cupping your cheeks. "I believe you, darlin'. You wouldn't lie about something like this. What do you need me to do? Should I kick him out–or—"

"No!" you lean your head on Tangerine's chest, sighing as you clutch at his shirt, "Andy clearly loves him. I can't ruin this for her."

Tangerine's hand rests against the back of your head, his thumb soothing in your hair. "But, if he makes you uncomfortable—"

You interrupt him, "I can deal with one dinner and then I'll tell Andy about all this privately. It has to be her decision, okay?"

"I do not want your stalker as our brother-in-law, Y/n," Tangerine says sternly. 

"It's not about us! It's about Andy and– please can you pretend I didn't tell you anything tonight?" you say, "And I'll pretend I don't remember him."

Tangerine can see the determination in your eyes. He wants to protest and tell you you don't have to go through with this dinner but he can tell you want to protect your sister more than yourself and he knows he has to respect that.

So, he puts on his best fake smile as you both return to the table. Tangerine hates pretending like this, especially because now he's overanalyzing every look Oliver is sending you. His blood boils even more when Olicer asks you, 

"How far along are you?"

How dare that bastard ask about his baby?  

You take a bite from your fork and strain a smile, nudging Tangerine's calf to convince him to stay quiet as you answer the question. "Almost six months now," you say and Oliver uses this as an opportunity to look you up and down which makes you visibly tense. 

"Yeah, my darlin' has been a real trouper," Tangerine fakes a laugh at Oliver's question and rolls up his sleeves, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You know what he's doing instantly because you've seen the number of bullet wounds grazes and knife slashes he has on his forearms, as well as the tattoos that cover his skin. 

He's intimidating Oliver and by the look on the poor man's face, it's working. 

"And she has me to help 'er, right, luv?" He smiles and tilts his head in Oliver's direction, drumming his hand on the table as he brings attention to the scars there and the amount of rings he's wearing—especially his wedding band.   

Oliver stares at you less after that. 

As you say your goodbyes to Andy, you tell her you'll call her later, and then smile politely at Oliver—who doesn't say much to you or Tangerine and once your front door is shut you turn around and narrow your eyes at your husband. 

"I saw what you did," you say and Tangerine raises his arms in mock confusion. He winks and then starts to clear the table. You follow him, trying to do the same but he sends you a look and you retaliate, instead leaning against the kitchen counter as you watch him.

 "You didn't need to show him your scars like that. Andy doesn't know what you do for a living, remember?" you sigh. 

Tangerine hums, "I wasn't showing them to her," he shrugs and loads up the dishes into the dishwasher. 

"I wanted that bastard to know what I would do to him if he even considered hurting you again. I wanted him to know what I'm capable of," he finishes.

You sit down on a chair, holding your stomach and you sigh. Tangerine turns to look at you over your shoulder, "Ya okay, darlin'?" he asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he walks over and kneels in front of you, his hands on your knees. 

You nod. "I'm just a little tired," you whisper.

Tangerine caresses your cheeks. "See, this is why I had to intimidate the bastard. You were under unnecessary stress and that makes him a threat to everything I hold dear," he whispers and kisses your stomach over your dress. "Ya know I won't let anyone hurt you, luv, yeah?"

"I know," you say, running one of your hands in his curls and twisting one in your finger as you contemplate admitting this. "I did think it was hot," you admit, "Seeing you show off your arms like that."

Your husband's grin widens. "Yeah?" 

You glare at him and suppress a smile. "Oh, don't get a big head about it, you prat." 

Tangerine laughs and stands up, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He straightens up and flexes his muscles, sending you a playful wink. "Is this making ya all hot and bothered for me?"

You shake your head but the way you're staring at him says otherwise. Tangerine helps you stand, smirking as he sees that look in your eyes. He knows your pregnancy sometimes makes you hornier than usual and he can read your moods easily now. 

"Want me to make the ache go away?" he teases and kisses your cheek. 

You laugh breathlessly and wrap your arms around his neck. "Okay," you say and then look at him seriously, "But you're doing all the work. I just wanna lay there," you pout, "I'm tired."

Tangerine smiles and nods, "Such a princess," he teases and then succumbs to your wishes, "But anything for you, luv'."   

[padsmoony04]

[nocturnest]

Captivating

you keep staring at tangerine and he wants to know why.

author's note: who isn't captivated by this handsome brit who struts as he walks and has the mouth of a sailor?! 😩🤌🏻

Tangerine couldn't help but notice the way your eyes kept drifting in his direction as he sat across the aisle, deep in conversation with Lemon about the seriousness of the mission and who exactly the White Death was. Every time he glanced up, he'd catch you quickly averting his gaze, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks.

He couldn't deny the intrigue he felt - there was something about the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes would linger on him for just a moment too long, that had him curious. Sure, there were plenty of women who had stared at him before. It wasn't anything new, but they had never had such curiosity in their gaze, such longing.

When the chaos erupted over the missing briefcase, Tangerine knew he needed to find a moment to pull you aside and get to the bottom of this peculiar fascination. Especially if there was a chance that he wouldn't be getting off this train alive. As the train rumbled on, he waited patiently for his opportunity, until finally, he spotted you slipping into the bathroom.

Without hesitation, he followed, gently pushing the door open and stepping inside, closing it gently behind him. Your eyes went wide with surprise, your breath catching in your throat. It was one thing to observe this handsome man from afar, hiding behind your book, but up close? You couldn't help but observe the deep blues of his eyes, the way that his collar was open just enough that you could see his chest. His mere presence was sinful.

"H-Hello," you stammered, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as you attempted to steady yourself. "I-um...I didn't expect you to-"

"Why do you keep looking at me, love?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he moved closer, effectively trapping you against the wall.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting everywhere but his face. "I... I don't know what you mean. I haven't been-"

Tangerine reached out, gently tilting your chin up so your eyes met. "Don't play coy with me, darlin'," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "I've seen the way you look at me. What is it about me that has you so... captivated?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but there was something else there too - a spark of curiosity, of intrigue, that Tangerine couldn't help but find so endearing.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... well, you're so different from anyone I've ever seen. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, it's all so... intoxicating."

Tangerine felt a slow grin spread across his face. "Intoxicating, eh?" he purred, leaning in closer until your noses were nearly brushing. "And what is it about me that you find so intoxicating, love?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. "I-I... I don't know, really. There's just something about you that draws me in. The way you seem so confident, so sure of yourself. It's... it's captivating."

Tangerine chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Well, well, aren't you just full of surprises," he murmured, his fingers trailing along the delicate curve of your neck. "And here I was, thinking I was the only one who was... intrigued."

Your eyes widened, your pulse quickening at his touch. "Y-you were... intrigued by me?"

Tangerine nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "Oh, yes, darlin'. From the moment I saw you starin' at me, I've been dyin' to get you alone like this."

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "So tell me, love... what is it that you want from me?"

Your breath hitched, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. You knew you should be terrified, trapped in this small bathroom with a man you barely knew. But somehow, in the depths of those piercing blue eyes, you found herself utterly captivated, yearning for his touch.

"I... I want to know you," you whispered, your trembling fingers reaching up to caress the side of his face. "All of you."

Tangerine's lips curved into a predatory smile, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you both, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

@kpopgirlbtssvt @little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kiss-me-cill-me @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @j23r23 @spookyspecterino @liukangsgirl @azureseacloud hope you guys enjoy!

[lovincherries]

Choose Me

Aaron Taylor-Johnson

IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ THE BACK STORY, THERE WILL BE A NOTE WHERE THE SMUT STARTS!

summary: you want Aaron to choose you, so you show him why you're worth choosing.

a/n: I'M BACKKKKKK this is probs gonna flop because i haven't written anything in so long, but i couldn't resist!!! this feels like a mess, i'm sorry i just had to get this idea out of my mind. Maybe I'll make a part two if this does well?

warnings: smut, cheating, light daddy kink, and very light, almost non-existent breeding kink.

word count:

I did get inspiration from @sgrantsgf, her writings heavily inspired my choice to make his wife a bitch!!!

You met him on the set of Bullet Train, you were his hair and makeup artist (not that he needed any makeup at all). He was so easy to talk to and so handsome. You couldn't resist his charm, not that you tried whatsoever. It was innocent flirting at first, him complimenting you on small things and you receiving it with a smile. Then, you became friends, him confiding in you with the problems in his marriage, his unhappiness in life, and that's when you knew whatever was going to happen with him was going to hurt you in the long run. You would confide in him too, with your dreams to travel, your hopes, and aspirations in life. He asked for your number soon, concealing his need to talk to you with the excuse that if there were ever an emergency, he would personally want to let you know that he wasn't coming. He would text you and call you whenever the nights became too lonely so far away from home, you relished in his late-night raspy voice, wishing it was so desperately next to you.

"It's late Aaron," you managed to whisper out, your own exhaustion peeking through your soft voice. Your bed felt especially lonely tonight as you two talked about whatever crossed your mind, it amazed you that you both always found something to talk about.

"I know love," his voice rasped out, "I just can't get enough of you."

Those were the type of comments that caused your heart to race out of your chest, with both excitement and a tinge of guilt. Guilt for falling for a married man, but when you thought of who he married, all the guilt left your mind.

"Then come to my room," you said before you could think about it, taking the implications of this phone call to be officially inappropriate. You could excuse everything else, pretend that it was just friendly conversation, but what you said was beyond that.

"Okay, I'll be there in five minutes," he said before abruptly hanging up. Any ounce of tiredness left your body at the sound of the phone call ending. You had to pinch yourself to make sure that what just happened was real, that it wasn't some crazy, sleep-induced hallucination.

Your body shot up from your hotel bed, rushing to go to the mirror. You looked at your messy hair and oversized pajamas with horror, you were so unprepared for him to agree to some meaningless flirty remark that you didn't even mean to make.

You did your best to comb your unruly hair, brushing your teeth just in case anything happened, which you secretly hoped that it would.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard the fast pace knock on the door. Every square inch of your skin buzzing with excitement for what might come. You did your best to stop your hands from shaking as you opened the door, but you couldn't stop a small gasp from escaping your lips when you saw him standing there. His brown curls were unruly in the best way, and his blue eyes filled with an emotion you had never seen in them before.

smut starts here

"Hi," you spoke quietly, unable to look away from the masterpiece that he was. You opened the door to invite him to step in, fearing that anyone would see him come into your hotel room at 12:30 am. You knew the cast members spoke about the glances you gave each other, this would give them that much more of a reason to talk, to tell his wife what you two had been up to. You quickly shook the thought of repercussions out of your head, solely focusing your attention on him.

"Hey, love," he said, stepping in, a slight smirk finding itself on his face. He saw the heat rise on your cheeks, noticed how your breath picked up in pace after staring at him for a few moments, but most of all he noticed your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. He closed the door behind him as you looked up at him with your big, innocent, doe eyes. All he could think about were those eyes staring up at him as his cock was shoved in your mouth. He could not stop himself, his hand grazing your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His stare was intense, his blue eyes held a hunger in them.

"I'm surprised you came," you spoke, leaning into his electrifying touch. It wasn't till he pulled his hand away that you realized how much you liked it, how much you wanted his hands all over you.

"Don't be, I've been waiting for you to ask me for weeks," he said. Your thoughts raced; he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? It was unbelievable to you that he could want you in the same way. His face was slowly leaning down to yours, his nose nudging your own.

"Really?" You asked, your voice husky with something primal. His lips nudged yours, a soft gasp falling from your mouth as he backed you into the corner. His hands now tracing the curve of your waist, holding you merely inches from his body.

"Mhmm, thought I was about to have to beg for it," he whispered against your lips. You couldn't stand the teasing anymore; you connected your lips finally. All the late-night phone calls, all the innocent brushes, and all the not-so-innocent comments finally came to a head. The feeling of him pressing against you was like euphoria, his lips soft, but his kiss hard and needy. As soon as you pressed your lips into his, he pressed back and hard. Your hands left your side in a frenzy, all thoughts about his wife and kids leaving your head, lust being the only thing that remains. Your hands found his face, the rough stubble a stark contrast to your soft hands. His lips felt like home, warm, and inviting. His hands gripped your shirt tightly, bunching it up in a fist. The warmth of his body radiated against yours.

He pressed you against the wall, freeing his hands from your shirt, he lifted your leg and wrapped it around his hips. The stretch burned the muscle on your inner thighs, but you could not find it in you to care. You wanted him as close to you as possible, needed him to be close to you. You let out a gasp when you felt the outline of his cock against your folds, the size of it evident through his pants. His lips detached from yours, kissing his way down your jaw. The action sent tingles straight down your vagina, which was surely soaking at this point. You wouldn't be surprised if there were a wet spot on his boxers. His other hand grasped one of your breasts, hard, to the point it was almost painful, it should have been painful.

He began to suck on your neck lightly, hard enough to leave a light bruise. He was mumbling incoherently; you could only pick up bits and pieces of what he was saying.

"All mine," he said, lust deepening his voice, "want everyone to know." The words only heightened your excitement, even if they weren't true. Even if everyone couldn't know what you had, you couldn't find it in you to care at this moment. You only cared about him and what he was about to give you.

The sensation of his lips on your neck left you feeling restless, empty, only one thing could ease the burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Bed," you managed to mumble, "to-to the bed." Your voice begged, you sounded pitiful but you didn't care about that.

He lifted you up, carrying you to your bed. He put you down gently, his hips finding their home in between yours. He rutted into you, his cock rubbing against your clit despite the clothes. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, seemingly on their own. You lifted it up, needing to be close to him. He pulled away from you for the first time since the kiss started, pulling his own shirt from his body. The sight of his torso was that of a Greek God, he was gorgeous.

"So pretty," the words fell from your lips before you could think about it. He laughed, which left you feeling embarrassed at what you said.

"I should be telling you that," he said, his fingers grazing your burning cheeks as you looked up to him. He leaned down to you again, his lips grazing your ear.

"I'm so hard for you," he groaned into your ear, "it aches." He grabbed your hand, letting it graze his cock. Your hands found the band of his sweatpants, pulling down the soft material to reveal his cock.

You gasped at the size, not expecting it to be so big. He laughed again at your reaction, but you were too focused on his size to begin to care about being embarrassed. You grasped it, slowly stroking his cock, your thumb grazing his sensitive tip. A gasp left his mouth as you smeared the pre-cum all over his cock. It was now your turn to laugh at his reaction, holding the power in your hands.

His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt now, lifting it over your head as your breasts bounced at freedom. You were now left in your small pajama shorts that left nothing to the imagination. You continued to stroke his cock and enjoyed watching him struggle to hold his composure. The veins in his neck flexed as you gripped his dick harder.

You leaned up closer to him, scattering light kisses all over his neck. You wanted to leave bruises like he did on you, but you knew you couldn't which only left a sour taste in your mouth.

"N-no more," he moaned out. Tearing your hands away from him, you feared that he didn't want to do this with you anymore. He stood up from the bed, his cock bouncing against his stomach as he did. He grasped your thin shorts and panties in his hands, tearing them away from your body quickly.

He stood there, staring at your completely naked body as you looked up at him. You crossed your legs and lightly held your breasts to try and hold onto some sort of modesty that was long gone. The burning of your cheeks only came back 5 times more intense now. His hungry stare seemed to crawl under your skin, leaving you clueless as to how you should feel.

He began to stroke his cock at the sight of you, a deep hunger on his face as he looked down at you.

"You think you could take me right now, y/n?" He asked, a sadistic hint behind the tone of his voice. You could feel the slickness between your folds, the agonizing lust that settled in the pit of your stomach. Without saying a word, you opened your legs to him, proving that you could. You brought your own hand down to your folds, beginning to circle your sensitive clit.

"Y-yes, Aaron," you moaned seductively. Your eyes shut tight at the intense feeling of your clit, your mind going blank from pleasure. It wasn't till you felt his presence above you, till he ripped his hands away from your clit, till he brought his lips to your fingers, licking the slick that was stuck to your fingers.

"So good," he moaned at the taste of you. His own hand now replacing where yours once was, circling your clit harshly.

"I think you could take me too," he said roughly grabbing his dick to slide in between your folds. The feeling of his hot cock against your smooth folds had you feeling insane. You jutted your hips against his in hopes that he would go where you wanted him to be.

"I want to take my time," he said softly, his hands grazing your body. It left you feeling mad at him for being so close, yet so far at the same time. You tried to move your hips once more, but he held them down. His cock sat in between your folds, not moving an inch as he admired you. He brought his lips down to your breast, sucking on your nipple. The sensation caused your hips to jut up, hips tip grazing your entrance. You whined out in need, need for him to be inside of you.

His lips on your breasts only caused you to need him more, need him inside of you.

"Please, please, please," you begged, not recognizing your own voice. You brought his head up to yours, attaching your lips to his, in hopes that he would listen to your plead. His tip was right at your entrance, and in his moment of weakness, you lifted your hips enough to where he sunk into you. You moaned at the feeling of him inside of you, ready for more. He pulled away from your lips, his forehead now resting against yours. He was trying so hard to control himself, to not hurt you.

You moaned in his ear; he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He plunged further inside of you with a determination you had never felt before. You had never been this full before. You gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"S-so tight," he stuttered out as his hips moved, plunging in and out of you. All semblance of control long forgotten the only thing he could think of was the home that he found in between your legs. "Squeezing me so good," he moaned out.

The feeling of him inside of you was something you had never felt, it was perfect like you were made to have him inside of you. His pace quickened, like something you had never felt before. Your hands scratched his back, not knowing what to do with the pressure that was building in the pit of your stomach.

"Aaron," you moaned loudly, going insane for the pleasure he was giving you. He was now kissing your neck and grasping at your breasts, the pleasure was intense and over-stimulating. You had never, ever felt anything like it before,

Your hands found their way in his hair, a need to grab and hold onto something.

"y/n," he rasped out, "God y/n. Should've done this sooner, never felt like this in my life." He was so obviously pussy drunk on you, and you couldn't help but be proud of the way you made him feel.

"'M gonna cum in you, fill ya up," he moaned out, his words being cut short. The intensity of his thrusts only building the bubble in the bottom of your stomach, his praise only sending you further into oblivion.

"Please," you begged, for what? You didn't know. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting him closer, needing him closer to you. His hand reached down in between where you two met, he began playing with your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the pleasure he was giving you.

"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron," you chanted his name in praise of him. No one had ever made you feel this good, ever.

"Cum for me darling, squeeze me," he demanded, his quick pace matching his fingers. Your arousal was seeping onto the covers, a squelching noise coming from where you two were colliding.

You finished with spasms, the bubble in the bottom of your abdomen popping finally. You milked him, wanting him to find his own release too. Your body was limp in a daze as he held your hips up, still fucking into you. Your body was weak and sore from the power of his thrusts, your mind hazy with a finish like you had never had before.

"Finish in me," you moaned out at the sensitivity you were feeling, "please daddy," you begged without thinking of what you were saying, if he would even like it.

His pace picked up even more, if it was possible, letting out grunts and groans of effort as he used your body in the best possible way. You could beg for this feeling every day for the rest of your life,

He finished, thrusting into you, hard. You could've sworn he hit your cervix, pressing right up against it as he finished, both of you worn out by your orgasms.

"Did so good for me darling," he said, waking you up from your light sleep. "Gotta clean you up now."

He slowly withdrew from you, a whine and groan leaving your mouth from the soreness that was already forming. It was only now, with your head clear that you realized what you had done. You slept with a married man, albeit an unhappy one, but he was married nonetheless.

Your whole demeanor had changed, but you didn't want Aaron to see the regret on your face. There was no regret in doing what you had done, but rather, you had fallen in love with him and there was nothing you could do about it now.

taglist:

@kittenlittle24 @dellahalewrites @nananananannerman @psychedelic-70s @vampiregirl444 @chaoticdefendortree @butlersbabe @domaniquessidehoe @pumpkin3-1415 @softmullett @justjacesstuff @defintelynotbreathing @whatstruthgottodowithit @jetva @lunarlovingdreamer @bobbykennedyfan @datsavageavenger @anbanananna @in-love-with-will-byers @bamitzzsam @butlersluvbot @cb97slut @lizzylynch1 @yuxixuu @unmaskthewriter @madsb2300 @yenbennie @stitched-mouth @creativewriter2002 @paigemillz @noparcha @ilovesteveharrington @allierw @girlwholikesghosts @alligator-person @re3kin @fifty.shades.of.H @ur.angle000 @theliterarybeldam @blondemoments4l @babywhoresnop @kairoclerosis @peachyjaeminn @sparklehanii @bubblessugar28 @nini-2009 @worldmadeofmemories @seaweed-orchid @austinbutler17 @everythingisspokenfor @girlblogger2002 @lukanasky @prettyboyswow @gemstone9 @eddiemunsonsgffff @sunsetfreedom05 @cchl @butlerfilmz @yogotti11 @emersxn99 @hot-and-confused @thedepressedhippie @mr-aurum @slutforblueeyes @adoreyouusugar r @styles-canvas @hails-schae @claudia-aa @tubble-wubble @butlerfilmz @lilycherries123

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

tangerine beinf annoyed and fingering the reader while being on his phone? shes like whining and over stimulated and begging to slow down and hes just kind of mumbling that a good slut should know how to take it

hii! omg omg I love this SO MUCH. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

can’t be quiet

tangerine x f reader

wc || 1k

warnings || 18+ only explicit content (word porn, fingering, praise) minors dni

masterlist + rules

taglist

More often than not, Tangerine liked to have you near while he was working from home. He loved to have you in his office, sat on his lap while he researched for upcoming missions. So now, like any other day, he had you perched on his lap with your back to his chest. His hands momentarily brush over your upper thighs for a sense of comfort as he reads through the article on his computer screen.

He sighs and strokes higher up your thigh, brushing the bare skin under your nightgown. Circling over as he places a light kiss to the side of your neck. Whispering. “Fancy a quick break?” You didn’t even need to see his face for you to know that there was a wicked smirk across his lips.

Nodding fervidly in response.

He gently slaps your inner thighs to separate your legs, wrapping his arm around your stomach, he reaches around and immediately palms over your underwear. Slowly stroking over you through the fabric while he begins to nibble on the side of your throat, sucking and kissing your warm skin. His eager fingers part your underwear to the side as his other hand reaches around to touch your pussy, brushing his middle finger through your folds. Slow and tantalising.

His finger slides up to circle your clit, lightly rubbing over it as he breathes heavily under your ear. Adjusting you in his lap, settling you atop him in a more comfortable position so he could tease at your entrance, lightly playing around and dipping his finger in.

He suddenly sighs, somewhat frustrated before pulling his hands away. “Fuckin thing.” He groans, tearing a hole in your underwear to give him better access to you. His fingers instantly latch back onto you, slipping through your folds, just like they belonged. He slides in his middle finger, slowly teasing into you and curling upwards which caused a shuddering reaction from you. A reaction he often craved.

Adding his ring finger inside of you, slipping in with great ease and immediately rubbing up into your g-spot in a come hither motion. “So warm.” He whispers against the back of your neck, softly chuckling as rubbed you from the inside. He wraps his free arm around you, holding your tits tightly as he pulled you back to his chest, gripping you as he began to finger fuck you.

“You like having my fingers buried deep inside of you? Hm? My big hand making you feel good, baby?” He whispers, rocking his palm over your clit as he continued the same engulfing pace. Grinning at your whimpering response. “I’m glad, honey.”

You hear Tangerine’s phone ring on his oak table and you instantly stiffen, eyes blown huge as you stare at his lit-up screen. Whispering “No.” As if you already knew what he was going to do.

He chuckles from behind you, keeping his fingers glued inside as he reaches for his phone with his free hand. “Yeah.” Speaking softly as if to tease you. “… ‘lright mate?” He greets the person on the receiver. “Nah, yeah I’m free to talk… what’s up? … You’re fuckin kiddin.” Conversing as he resumes his rocking motion, pumping into you with curled fingers. “Nah, mate that’s a fuckin piss take… no I told that cunt next week, why the fuck is going around saying that? I said next Monday because we’ll be ready next Monday… if I said next Monday then obviously I mean next fuckin Monday… mate come on now, leave it out would ya? … well whys he going round saying that? Prick going behind my back… me and Lem talked to him the other day… yeah. Yeah alright mate, yeah.” He groans, putting his phone on speaker and onto the table in front.

“That’s not off.” You say breathlessly, holding the back of his hand as he continues to pound into you.

“Yeah I know, he’ll be back in a minute… you gotta be quiet sweetheart, he’ll hear you.” Grinning against your neck. “Close that pretty mouth of yours… yeah hi mate.” Smirking as he places the phone back to his ear. “Be a good, quiet slut for me.” He mumbles, lifting his head away from the speaker to whisper under your ear. “Mate, he said quarter mil. We ain’t gonna take less when we were guaranteed that money.”

He could tell by the way you clamped around his fingers that you were close. Tightening as you whimpered, grinding into his fast-moving hand. “Go on.” He whispers, egging you on. Eyes screwed shut as you tried to be as quiet as possible for your overwhelming release.

He inconspicuously ends the call, dropping the phone onto the leather sofa to the side of him while he pumps into you. Mumbling against the side of your throat, grazing his teeth along the skin. “Cum all over my fingers.”

And so you did. You allowed the internal balloon to pop as you rode your high. Slapping your hand over your mouth to hide the moans and whimpers that were begging to escape your lips. He instantly yanks it away, desperately wanting to hear all of your pretty sounds, holding it to your side as you whined and rocked over him. Head rolling back with your mouth agape, panting heavily into the air.

As soon as the cloud cleared, your brain became aware of the phone call. Immediately snapping your neck to look at the absence in his hand. “You arsehole.” You lightly laugh, holding over your chest.

“I knew you wouldn’t be quiet.” He mutters against your skin, kissing a comforting trail up the side of it. “You sounded too pretty… only I can hear it.” He whispers, slowly pulling his fingers from you and angling them towards your mouth. Peaking himself around to watch while he dragged his cum-coated fingers over your lips, slipping one inside so you could taste yourself. “Only me.” He resumes, pulling his hand away from you, licking the residual slick from his fingers.

Adjusting you in his lap once more, wrapping his arms tight around your front while you nuzzled into him. Softly breathing as he inhaled your comfort.

@tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @she-bleeds-in-white-roses @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things

[ultralightpoe]

Haunted Pub Crawl - Tangerine

Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Word Count: 774

Warnings: a lil violence

Description: Small halloween blurb.

This is apart of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour!

Happy Halloween!

“This is so bloody fucking stupid.” Tangerine snaps, reaching a hand out to slap the jello shot Lemon had been holding without even having to turn around to see. “What fucking-”

“You agreed to come.” Lemon sighs, staring at the jello shot as his brother fixes his jacket beside him once more. 

They are waiting by the bathroom in some dingy bar as the pub crawl worker calls for everyone to begin making their way to the front. Tangerine rolls his eyes, watching the woman dressed as a ladybug read off names off her clipboard. 

You were in the bathroom behind him, and Tangerine reaches a hand to rap at the door quickly, not that it mattered since you were already on your way out with a drunken smile on your face. 

“Hey baby, hey Lemon.” You greet, tripping forward as his hand shoots out to wrap around your waist tightly and keep you upright. You kiss as his cheek and leave a bit of lipstick behind in it’s wake before turning to grab at Lemon. 

Tan leads you both to the front of the bar, nodding to the ladybug to let her know you were there before she begins to lead you all outside for the next bar. He keeps a tight hold on you and an eye out for his brother. 

Parties like these were never really his style, but both the people he loved and cared about had begged to go and here he was, donning his best suit that made him look like he was from the 70s. Not that people really understood, because next to your 70’s supermodel they all only thought one thing. 

The wind of the night whipped around you both and people in their costumes were passing your own group, whooping and hollering. 

Some fucker in a toga blinks at you, smiling wide in a way that makes Tans chest tighten and his blood boil, images of breaking his jaw flashing through his mind. 

“Pimp and hooker, fuck yeah!” Toga shouts, passing by. You blush a bit and Tan freezes, stopping completely. You look up at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. 

“Tan, baby, it was just some drunk guy-”

“No lovey.” Tan sighs, making sure Lemon has a hold on you before whirling on his heels and whistling. “Hey, Frat fucker!”

The toga douche turns around. Mouth falling open in a comical way as he stares. 

“The fuck did you say to my bird?!”

“I was complimenting your guys’ costumes. Chill man.”

“No I will not chill because you just referred to her as a fucking hooker! You stupid fuckin cunt!” He yells, marching up and hitting him square in the jaw in a way that has you gasping in the background. 

The Toga Douche lands on the concrete beneath him with a quick thud, the crest of Tans ring etched onto his face. 

“TAN!” You shout, seeing the cop car sitting down the block flash his light. Two sets of hands grab his arms, and then you three are off, dashing into the alleyway to meet out the otherside and hop a fence. 

“Can’t we ever have one night of fun?!” You snap, tripping up a bit as you rush down a hill. 

“He called you a fucki-”

“I heard. But I really didn’t care. He was just some douchebag in a toga.” You sniffle, swiping at your cheeks as he rushes to move your hands away from your face and do it himself. 

“I care, because you’re my lovey and no one calls my lovey a hooker. Kay’?” He asks softly, kissing your forehead. 

“Kay’.” You mumble, playing with the lining of his vest, kissing his chin. “But…. and don’t get mad. We kind of do look like-”

“Guys! The thomas halloween special is doing reruns on pbs!” 

- 

The next morning you are curled up on the couch, nursing a huge hangover, holding a cup of coffee as the news plays slowly in the background. 

“-And reports from last night state that Kyle Harold, a young bartender had been attacked by a man. The attack was sudden and unexplainable.” The news reporter explains before they cut to the video of the interview. 

“Yeah, I was walking past this friggin bar crawl thing and then this dude in a pimp costume just ran up and hit me.”

Your eyes snap up to the screen where the yoga douche from last night, sporting stitches and a black eye. 

You can’t hear the rest of the interview, laughing too loud when Tan gets home and gives you a weird look. “What is so fucking funny?”

[fandomsoverlife]

Tangerine x sweet!gn reader headcanons

Authors note: I watched bullet train and have noticed the fanfic department is lacking, here is my lackluster take on possibly slightly ooc Tangerine with a sweet gender neutral partner. And also bookstore meet cute, sorry I don’t make the rules.

~

- Tangerine didn’t expect himself to be locked down and in a relationship. He was always out and about, looking over his shoulder, getting bloodstains out of his shirts, and hoping for the best.

- he found you at a bookstore though, perusing the aisles and holding a stack too big for two arms, which he immediately found cute

- it wasn’t until you’d reached for another book that your whole pile came down and he found himself helping you out, stacking the books up carefully into your arms but then deciding to walk with you and help you carry your load to the till when you’d found the book you were reaching for

- he asked you to get a cup of tea with him almost immediately, surprising even himself when the question slipped his lips

- every date you went on, he asked about a different book from the ones he had seen in your stack

- and he kept it classy too, sweet little dates with no overbearing physical contact

- after your cup of tea he had taken you to an art museum, and then to a butterfly garden, and then to a lovely little picnic in a very secluded part of a park where you’d jumped his bones and let him have you against a picnic blanket during sunset (quite a charming first time)

- he didn’t tell Lemon about you until the picnic incident had happened, when he’d called him the next morning after you had left his home

- he lied to you for the first three months of going out, about his job and what he was doing every time he left

- the guilt ate him away at the insides, every time he’d look into your shining eyes, wide with adoration and trust, and when he kissed you goodbye

- when he came clean it was after a hard job. Lemon narrowly escaped death and he himself was doing pretty bad

- he came to your home and knocked on your door, hugging you tight and whispering that he wasn’t who he said he was and he was so sorry

- when you pulled away and looked up at him, laughing, he was scared.

“Why are we laughing when I’ve just told you I’m a contract killer, love?”

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t know something was wrong. I figured out the crime a long time ago.”

- it turns out using a code name and going on frequent business trips that mar you with bruises leaves a little bit up to question

- he is grateful you’re understanding

- treats you like you’re a prize and he’s never won before in his life

- dotes on you constantly in his own way

- acts annoyed when you forget a jacket but he’s shrugging his own the second he sees you shiver, before you can mention being cold

- you don’t go to the gas station anymore, your tank is always filled the second it gets below half full. You don’t even have to say anything, he just checks.

- your favorite snack is always in his cabinet, your favorite drink in his fridge

- pet names galore

- bird, pretty, love, sweetheart, babe, poppet

- he will steal things for you, completely “accidentally” sometimes - the things he nicks just happen to be something you’d like.

- loves to hear you talk about whatever interests you

- is not great at saying how he feels out loud

- his affection is more physical

- hand on the lower back in a crowd, clasped in yours as you walk down the street, pulled into his side if it’s dark or chilly

- he likes to watch you get ready in the mornings

- will not let you shave his face and/or trim his mustache

- will let you play with his hair at any point

- will give you shoulder rubs

- when you finally meet lemon, tangerine is a little floored when he sees how well you get on

- he’s not too happy when you both get to teasing at him the way he does to everyone

- he is happy the person he loves makes everyone else just as happy as they make him

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Fathers & Family Master Post! All the family stories I have are below! (Peaky Blinders & Bullet Train)

Peaky Blinders

Grab an End - Thomas Shelby & Teen Ruby Shelby

Ruby sneaks off to a party and needs Tommy’s help - Hurt / Comfort / Father daughter feels / coming of age

Moving Out - Thomas Shelby & Little Ruby Shelby

Little Ruby has had enough of Tommy’s BS - Hurt / Comfort - father-daughter feels / fix it/ happy ending

Sick - Thomas Shelby & Little Ruby Shelby

Ruby is on death's door, Tommy and family try to nurse her back to health

Da - Thomas Shelby & Little Teddy Shelby

The Kid’s first words & Tommy’s reaction - Super Fluff

We Are Not Good Men - Thomas Shelby & Adopted Teen Daughter Pt.2

 Reader is adopted when Tommy discovers that she had been working for him as a maid at 15 years old. Extreme fluff & hurt comfort. Hugs. Nondescriptive mentions of assault and beatings

A Vacation - Thomas Shelby X Reader & Family

Tommy needs to step up as a father, when his wife is pregnant again and put on bedrest a vacation is in order. Tommy takes them to stay in Cornwall and the reader watches everyone change for the better.

A Day at the Fair - Shelby boys & Finn

The boys promise him a day at the fair and it doesn’t go as planned - featuring lots of Tommy and Lizzy, plus Arthur and John

London Calling - Shelby Sister Reader

 (Shelby sister) has had enough of her family’s nonsense, she escapes to do things on her own. Only to find out years later the cause of her pain wasn’t what she thought it was.

First Hit - Finn Shelby Comming of Age

An outing takes an unexpected turn and Finn thinks its him time to step up. Featuring lots of kid Finn, buckets of innocence, lots of Tommy, and Lizzy to the rescue.

A Monster Under the Bed - Thomas X Reader & Daughter

Tommy helps a girl with an unexpected request that leads his heart somewhere it hasn’t been before

Closing Walls & Ticking Clocks - Thomas X Lizzie & Adopted Reader

who knew verbally assaulting a nun would win you the perfect family - Series

Growing Pains - Shelby Family & Reader Sister

Reader is the youngest of the Shelby clan and is often excluded due to her softer nature. When she gets hurt at the pub one day it quickly becomes everyone’s problem to fix it and make things right

Dad? - Tommy Shelby & Little Baby Sister

The last Shelby is born just before the war, when Tommy comes back caring for her is one of the only things he finds peace in.

Red - Thomas Shelby X Pregnant Reader

Redhead Reader finds out she’s pregnant with Tommy’s babe. This follows their wonders about what their child will be like.

Betrayal - Thomas Shelby & Reader Daughter

Reader is Tommy’s daughter. When she gets involved with a boy from a rival family, she knows that there is a lot on the line. Unfortunately for her, things don’t end well, causing Tommy to recall what it was like being in love with someone who stabs you in the back

Teddy Bear - Alfie & Little Girl from the Streets - Pt. 2

The reader gets lost wandering the streets, when she sees what she assumes is a bakery she sneaks in hoping to steal some scraps…. She gets caught by Alfie, initially terrified of his big size and loud voice she realizes he’s not so bad after all.

Allergies - Tommy Shelby X Reader Daughter

Thomas meets an unspeakable setback as he welcomes his new daughter into the world

Nonsense - Reader & Little Charlie Shelby

No one can understand what’s bothering little Charlie - no one except the reader

American Girl - Shelby Family & Sister Reader

The reader finds out more about her distant family after her Grandparents pass.

Her Father's Daughter - Thomas Shelby & Little Ruby Shelby

Follow up head cannons about how much Ruby adores her father.

Dresses - Thomas Shelby & Reader Daughter

While the ladies of the Shelby family are on vacation you realize you still need to find a ballgown for the big dance. Thankfully your dad is available.

Not a Child Anymore - Thomas Shelby & Reader Daughter

Tommy struggles with his daughter as she starts exploring the world of dating - After falling for Isaiah he catches them and all hell breaks loose

Me, Adopted? - Thomas Shelby & Reader Son

Charlie & Ruby play a prank on their little brother and tell him he's adopted.

I don't want to grow up - Tommy's daughter finds herself in an uncomfortable position while all the women are out of town - father-daughter comfort fic

Bullet Train

Values - Tangerine X Reader - Series

Tangerine can't help himself and decides to mess around while on the job - resulting in a very pregnant reader trying to track him down.

Adopt a Fruit - Tangerine & Lemon & Small reader child

A young girl falls into the hands of our two favorite assassins

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 8

eight. tangerine: fury, one-sided against a revelation.

Summary: in convincing lemon to trust clementine for the time being, tangerine learns the truth about New York at the cost of his peace of mind.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 5904. this is so overworked it's not funny. HOWEVER this took a long time because 1. i've been busy all of january with event work, and 2. this is an important chapter for a big shift in the dynamic. PLEASE let me know what you think so far, how you're enjoying it, and the next chapter should be out much sooner than this!! seriously ive reworked this chapter like 8 times please tell me if its actually decent.

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: discussions of murder and canon typical violence. heavily implied smut; degradation, marking, d/s dynamics, bdsm / impact play. discussions of dom-drop, so always remember aftercare for everyone involved <3

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @gregorybrldgerton @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @lovv24 @nohemi2500 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant

----

In the grand scheme of how today was going, Clementine's cryptic bullshit ranks incredibly low on Tangerine's list of priorities. As soon as they get through this shitshow of a train ride, he'll have all the time in the world to try and figure out what she's saying and if he even cares, but so long as she was no longer and immediate threat to him, he could focus on this plan they'd cobbled together.

And his still fucking unconscious brother.

"In your professional, medical opinion -" Tangerine muttered as they approached, though Clementine was quick to cut him off.

"Slap him."

"Obviously I was joking."

"I wasn't."

Despite his sarcasm, she did have a point, and Tangerine slaped his brother with the kind of force guaranteed to wake him up. Lemon, successfully awoken by the sudden impact, acted on instinct, startled, and slapped Tangerine back in kind. Probably should have expected that. The force was enough to stumble Tangerine, who chose the path of least resistance in that moment as he sunk into the seat beside Lemon.

Unfortunately the minute Lemon sees Clementine, he's frantically checking his holster and pockets, equal parts wide-eyed and startlingly furious. By the time he was swearing a blue streak under his breath it was clear that his weapon was missing, though Clementine remained unperturbed. At least by him.

She's looking at The Son, slumped back against his seat against the window, the glasses at an unnatural angle on his face. There's something surprisingly pensive about her expression.

"The fuck is she doing here?" Lemon hissed, unarmed, only able to settle for resting both his hands upon the table, flexing and unflexing his hand into fists.

"Helping," Tangerine admitted begrudgingly.

"Helping?! She turning herself in or something?"

Clementine is frowning now, but still looking at the candid corpse.

"She didn't do it," Tangerine sighed.

"What is wrong with you?" Lemon sounded like he had aged ten years thanks to that one sentence, "no seriously, what is actually wrong with you?"

"You wanna chime in here?" Tangerine finally glowers at Clementine, only to watch her carefully lift the obnoxious glasses they'd given The Son, "Clementine." Tangerine's tone was sharp enough to startle the operative out of her investigation; The Son's eyes were still bleeding, just a little. Those glasses needed to stay in place.

"What?" Clementine's equally firm tone was unexpected, as was her scowl, and neither brother knew quite what to say in that moment. After a beat, Clementine looked back at The Son, but left him be, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, "how did you say he died?"

"Actually we didn't," Tangerine points out, as Lemon actually rolls his eyes.

"As if you don't know."

"You wanna reassure him you're not a threat, or are you happy making me look like a fuckin' idiot for sticking my neck out for you?" Tangerine tries again, and this time, when Clementine looked at him, her expression softened just a little.

"Tangerine's right," she says, soft but sure, before she turned her focus to his brother, "he's right," firmer that time, she takes a moment under Lemon's skeptical gaze to straighten her posture, "we'd fallen out of each other's good graces, sure but I didn't want the White Death's son dead. I've already lost enough fingers for that family."

It takes Lemon several moments of unconvinced silence to turn Clementine's words over in his mind before it clicks. He shoots a look at Tangerine as if to confirm his suspicions, to confirm that it had been Clementine that The Son's earlier horror story had been referencing, and with his brothers grim nod, everything in that moment changed.

"Oh, you're fucked," Lemon mumbled, without even really thinking, far away look in his eyes, "oh we're all so fucked."

"Yeah, we know, welcome back to the conversation," Tangerine said flatly, before sitting a little straighter, "though the way I see it, if anyone would know how our boss thinks and how to keep ourselves alive while dealing with him -"

"It'd be his -" Lemon sighed, but Clementine cuts him off.

"Careful what you call me," she warns, and Lemon narrows his eyes at her.

"You know what they call you," he says almost snidely, his tone uncharacteristically dark, and thick with implication.

"What do you want me to say, Lemon?" Clementine shifted back in her seat, meeting his gaze, "you're alive, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm curious about that too; to what end? What exactly were you doing in New York?"

Now probably isn't the time for this, Tangerine's aware, but Lemon's spitting the questions that have been plaguing him but that he didn't know how to ask. Maybe that's what Clementine had been referring to, maybe she'd sensed that-

It's like she can read his fucking thoughts, the way she's wearing that suddenly amused, dangerous smile.

"Working, of course," she says easily. It's so chipper that Tangerine's blood began to run cold.

"Why were you in New York?" Tangerine asks through his teeth, and Clementine's gaze snaps to him. There's something in her eyes that he can't quite identify, something evaluative and approving all at once.

"That's a good question," she says softly, though not with a dismissive or coy tone that that phrase was usually said with. It's one of the right questions, Tangerine understands with sudden clarity, and Clementine continues candidly once more, "and there's a few answers, but I don't think either of you will like any of them."

"Short and sweet, please, Little Scorpion, we still have a murderer to catch," Lemon insists, and Clementine nods.

"Intel gathering, of course," she explains without further hesitation, "like I told Tangerine just a few minutes ago, psychological profiles, strengths, weaknesses, physical capabilities, you know, assessing you both and finding exploitable stuff," she shrugged with far too much ease and confidence. She doesn't look at Tangerine, her focus never strays from his brother as she matches his serious energy. Tangerine feels that discomfort that had grown with hindsight rear it's ugly head once more.

"That's nice, that's brilliant then," it's strange for Tangerine to hear his brother's sarcasm turned so harshly upon someone who isn't him, "we're just a pair of muppets you couldn't even be bothered to try and off? I actually think I'm a bit offended," Lemon makes a face, something disappointed in his voice. 

"You don't give yourself enough credit, if you were just marks I didn't care about, I would have killed you after I found out about Russia."

"Russia?" Lemon frowns. Tangerine's mouth presses into a thin line as he scours his memory for what exactly she could be referring to, what he exactly he may have told her.

"Not you," Clementine clarifies, before looking directly at Tangerine, expression open and suddenly unreadable as she confirms his fear, "him." There's something in that look like she wants him to remember, like it's a dare. What game is she playing here?

"Whaddya mean Russia?"

"Whaddya mean not me?"

All at once The Twins speak over each other, and Clementine's intense gaze eases, as does her posture, as she sits a little lower in her seat, looking back and forth between them.

"Well it shouldn't really matter if you don't remember it now since I didn't end up killing you over it."

But when Tangerine looks to his brother to see if Lemon is just as lost, Lemon's looking at him like he's close to a revelation.

"Is this about that thing with the hermit-y, little, KGB -?"

Prompted by his brother's suspicions, Tangerine lights up, looking to Clementine. She's watching him curiously.

"I did tell you about that, part of it at least, I forgot I had -

"When the Hell did you get the chance to tell her about doing a hit job in Russia -"

"I didn't tell her about the hit job, we were talking about the night sky and I brought up that time I saw the Northern Lights from a Russian train -"

"On your way to a murder?"

"Well I didn't mention the murder part!"

"But you did have the chance to talk about that early job we got into that scrap about -?" Lemon was watching him again, and Tangerine knows that tone, knows he's started to piece the truth together about what had happened in New York.

"- unnecessarily, mind you," Tangerine let's his expression read as irrate, as it always did when they got into this argument even all these years later, "got it done, didn't I? Did plenty of good for our name, too, didn't it?" 

"You got fuckin' lucky and you know it, you'd'a been one of them frozen corpses eaten by coyotes or whatever they have in Russia like all the others who tried catching that paranoid little -"

"We are not getting into this again, it was, what, ten? Eleven -?"

"About twelve years ago, I believe," Clementine cut their bickering short, and both brothers sobered considerably. After a long beat of silence, they both turned from each other to face their perfectly poised companion across from them.

Their companion of highly skilled, but unknown origins, their companion who speaks flawless Russian, who appeared to slip into it when angry, as if by default, their companion who has made a name for herself as the right hand, the personal lap dog, tasked with looking after the closest personal family of a boss who is rumoured to himself have been a member of the KGB.

Tangerine is not afraid of the woman sitting across from him, but if she's implying what he thinks she's implying, he's definitely apprehensive as to what she still must want from him.

Lemon, beside him, clearly on the same train of thought, leaned forward, one hand braced on the table, voice barely a murmur.

"That was your family."

Surprisingly, Clementine smiled, shaking her head softly.

"While it's fair to say I had an emotional stake in the whole ordeal, no, Tangerine didn't kill anyone in my family," a long silence follows, while The Twins turned this all over in their minds, though Clementine raised her hands in mock surrender, continuing in that soft, sweet tone, "obviously I've made my peace with what happened. Like I said, I didn't kill you over it, even if my boss assumed I might want to." 

"And the other reason?" Tangerine asked after a beat, coldly. 

"What other reason?" Clementine tries to play dumb, but Tangerine sees the light in her eyes when she looks at him, and he won't let her get away with it.

"The other reason you were in New York."

The way Clementine smiles makes him feel like he's won the worst prize in the world, like she's pleased he hadn't just left it at that. The promise she'd made about no longer lying clearly didn't count lying by omission.

"Ah, you see I also wanted to make sure my subcontractors were staying on task; the briefing I sent out was rather involved, after all, didn't you think?"

It was a set up.

Every single last detail had been planned, puppeteered by the woman across from them. Every fucking single thing had been a set up! They'd taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, and sat pretty in her crosshairs; it had never been luck, it was barely a hunt! She brought them there, she arranged their fucking rooms, their equipment, their itinerary, their every objective! They had been paid to be sitting ducks -

"You were the client?" Lemon's eyes were wide with horror as he came to the same realisation as his brother, "you wrote that brief, all those details, all those fucking people -?"

It had been exhaustive amounts of intelligence already gathered, and plans so airtight that of course they could have only been dreamed up by an operative the likes of Clementine. Contingencies upon contingencies, plans thorough, every last possibility accounted for, fool proof, meticulous, and merciless.

"We wiped out part of the fucking Russian Mafia for you?"

"They weren't my family either, if that's what's worrying you," Clementine added, but it didn't seem to do Lemon's mood any good. 

"Couldn't have done it yourself?" Tangerine asks snidely, and Clementine tips her head to the side.

"My job was the two of you," she says carefully, but can't quite look him in the eye, "the mafia was my own personal passion project. Two birds, you understand," her smile grew wider, "though honestly I felt quite lucky for several reasons," for a moment there's even the sparkle of something teasing in her eyes as she finally did glance Tangerine's way before continuing on, "since I had been expecting to step in at the end there. Of course, I should have known, if any duo could actually clean up a sect of the relocated Russian Mafia mid-power play it would be you two. Truly, you exceeded my expectations, so thank you."

Tangerine had read that dossier back to front more times than he can rightfully remember. He'd been actually impressed, considering how thorough it was, and knew it would be a relative breeze. Sometimes clients could come across as controlling in the way they demanded specificity in the way the job was done, and often Tangerine would dismiss them and simply point out that a job well done was a job well done, who cares about the how? But this client's specific requests only made more sense the more he read. Their client had worked extensively in the field, that much was clear, and had an acute awareness of when to allow an operator the freedom to complete incredibly specialised but initially insignificant tasks that Tangerine realised would build an large, alternate narrative to the rest of the world, allowing them to operate completely devoid of suspicion.

But he also remembered the atrocities he committed by following those orders. He didn't feel guilt over them, he'd technically done worse, but it didn't exactly make them easier. But whenever he'd come back from the worst of the atrocities, every time Clementine had been at the front desk of the hotel, smiling at him, asking him how he was, if he's alright, if there's anything she could do for him, like she could tell he was just party to something that could have broken a lesser man.

And he could never tell her the truth, at least not the whole truth. He could barely speak to her those nights, when she'd send a question mark after he'd disappeared with Lemon into the elevator, and he'd simply send back 'first aid'. The same excuse he'd used that first night she'd come up to his room.

She'd been so fucking precious, so gentle and caring and receptive; she'd been everything he knew only how to exploit, how to bruise, how to break, the kind of lovely that only made her a liability. The kind of liability that could make her his liability if he kept letting his guard down. But he couldn't help himself.

So he would kiss her the moment he saw her, before she can even speak, can ask what's wrong, because of course it felt like she knew him well enough by then to know, because he couldn't bring himself to lie to her again, not tonight. If they got the chance to speak, or even share a few words, Tangerine would take out these insecurities on her, talk down to her for how her good nature could get her hurt or killed, or degrade her for how mindlessly she'd follow his orders, but Clementine gleefully ate up every single cruel word.

These are the nights he liked to hear her beg, to hear this silly, pretty thing so desperate for a someone like him, someone otherwise so capable of cruelty. He liked to mark her in a way that was almost obvious, almost scandalous, a reminder to her of what he could be capable of, and what she'd asked for. She wears these reminders for him, that he can still bruise without breaking. The marks his nails leave barely stand out amongst the rest of the scarring across her skin, and he finds himself glad that this silly, pretty thing took a liking to him, was so eager to please however she could, would get this dreamy look in her eyes when she caught sight of his work in the mirror across the room.

There's an exhaustion that hits him in the afterglow, regret sinking in where usually there was peace. It's quiet in these minutes, and he can't look at her, even as he feels the bed move. She must feel it too, it must be why she's silent as she pads towards the bathroom. The door closes, the shower turns on, and Tangerine finally exhales.

At least, that first night.

Something about that moment, about what he'd just done, about how he'd used Clementine like that, it made him feel sick. He'd spent the day sabotaging an entire floor of an apartment building to take out the three extended families of some powerful mafiosos, but this is the part he's in crisis over.

"Fucking hell, man, pull yourself together," he'd hissed under his breath as he'd pulled on a pair of pyjama pants that had been tossed to the floor that morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed once more, he took a cigarette from his pocketbook on the bedside table. It's when he was up and searching for a lighter that the bathroom door burst open.

Clementine skittered into the room, eyes wide, expression almost frantic, hair half-wet, like she'd barely stepped in the shower, stark naked and hands balled into fists. There had been something insistent, almost demanding, about her expression.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Tangerine asked, hoping she couldn't see his inner turmoil written all over his face. After a moment, she moved again, with purpose, almost launching herself across the bed, scrambling to get to him, to kneel on the edge of the bed to wrap her arms around him. Her hair is dripping on him, on the bed, her skin is damp too, but Tangerine's too startled to care.

Face pressed against his chest, she holds him like her life depends on it.

She doesn't shake, not like he was expecting her to in a moment like this, but instead she's warm and secure. A long moment of silence follows; Tangerine feels like he wants to say something, wants to ask if she's okay, but he can't find his voice. Then, he felt her lean back a little, gently tug him along. There's a warm kind of affection in her eyes in the moment he'd caught her gaze, smile gentle and pleased; there's no caution or hostility, or anything he realised he was anticipating. So he went with her, sunk down on the edge of the bed, and pulled her close enough to hold, tight enough that he would have worried she might break if he didn't know better.

"Thank you," he hears her sighs, all soft and content, curled up against him, he thought he could feel her smile against his collar bone. It won't be until she finally gets back in the shower that he clocks that she hadn't been wearing her gloves, and the vaguely uncanny sensation he'd felt for a moment in her hug had, in hindsight, been proof of her missing fingers.

He's not sure why, but after that realisation, discomfort in his chest finally began to ease.

Those were the nights she'd make a point to stay, curled up against him, TV on but neither really watching as Clementine would talk about everything and nothing, filling the silence without really having to be asked. Tangerine would use these nights especially to fish for information about the city, about his targets, anything she could give him, and when she ran out of steam, Clementine would ask about him. He'd edit his stories to fit this persona he'd created, but there had been something about the awed way Clementine would look at him in these moments that made him almost proud of the work he did. His bite mark had almost faded from her shoulder, but she'd be grinning at him in that way that scrunched up her nose, that changed her whole face to something young and mischievous, and part of him still didn't understand how this silly, pretty thing still looked at him like that.

"You really gotta be more careful, sweetheart," he hears himself say when he can't look her in the eyes, when all he can see is the marks he'd left behind on her. She gives a sleepy hum, but shakes her head.

"You'll be careful for me."

He has no idea what to say to that, how to process such unguarded affection, trust, and reassurance. So for once he lets the moment simply be, lets these feelings in his chest grow warm as she falls asleep against him, even when he knew he'd be denying the moment to himself come morning.

It was worlds of difference compared to how he felt arriving at the hotel. It was like she knew he needed that release, that reassurance, without ever making him have to say it out loud -

Because she did.

Maybe it should have made this all easier, to know she was using him too. So why can't she look him in the eyes all of a sudden.

"Thank you, Scorpion, for that glowing review," Lemon tells her flatly, and Tangerine isn't sure if his response was simply because he'd passed the point of being able to be concerned about Clementine's revelations for the day. Tangerine kind of envied him if he was.

"It was a compliment," she insisted, despite sounding faintly amused at his tone.

"Forgive us for having to take it with a grain of salt."

Clementine at least acquiesced on that, before prompting them;

"So where do we go from here?"

"I think the best option now is bring The White Death the man who killed his son," Tangerine offered when his brother fell silent. Tangerine read the dossiers, Tangerine made the plans. Lemon was always happy to trust him with that, and whether she liked it or not, right now Clementine would have to too if she wanted to stay on their side. 

"But Glasses didn't do it," Lemon insisted, referring to the individual both Clementine and Tangerine had picked as their prime suspect.

"He definitely does have the case," Clementine interjected, looking at the poor corpse beside herself once more with that analytical expression she'd worn when she'd first sat down.

"He didn't when we spoke," Lemon countered, but Clementine doesn't even look up.

"Then he stashed it," she shrugged.

"How are you so sure of that?"

"Because the person I'm actually on board to protect has a sixth sense about these sorts of things," finally she looks up, meets Lemon's gaze and matches his energy once more.

"So you really are here guarding someone?" 

"Yes."

"Okay, cool, still doesn't mean Glasses killed the kid."

"I couldn't give a rat's ass -" Tangerine tried to dismiss, though Lemon cut him off, even more insistent than before.

"No, I'm telling you, I read him; he's not the type, mate -"

"Let me tell you what; do you like your arms?" Tangerine asked pointedly.

"You know I like my arms."

"Stop it, he's right," Clementine shuts down their argument, surprising them both as she'd sided with Lemon. 

"You don't even have a proper idea of what this guy looks like," Tangerine pointed out with exasperation, "there's no way you got a read on him -"

"That may be true, but I do know The Hornet isn't a middle-aged, white guy -" the minute she identifies the suspect both brothers feel like absolute fools; The Son's state lines up perfectly with the reclusive operative's other victims. 

"Christ, The Hornet too?" Lemon groans, looking up to the roof as if for divine guidance, but clearly getting none. 

"So who are we looking for?" Tangerine tries, but Clementine makes a face.

"She's better than me at blending in," she admits, "it's hard to say who she could be at any moment -" 

"Shorter than you, dark hair?" Tangerine can already picture who he suspects, memory lighting up of a pink cardigan in first class. Clementine nods after a moment of deliberation, and Tangerine's expression darkens, "could look perfectly fucking harmless, probably knows of you, and wouldn't hesitate to throw you under the bus?"

"You've seen her?"

"In first class," he scowls, halfway out of his seat, "bet she was fuckin' mocking me with that accent of hers too -" but then Clementine's got ahold of his wrist braced over the table, expression insistent as she shook her head subtly; "what?" He demanded. 

"I know who you're thinking of," she says softly, tugging his arm again, "and that's not The Hornet, that's my client; she really is a teenager, she really does just sound like that, and her favourite hobby is making my life hard," she takes his hand now, and Lemon nods insistently for him to sit back down too, so slowly, he does, "I have no doubt that she threw me under the bus, but it wouldn't have been about you, it would have just been her seeing an opportunity to cause me problems."

"She sounds like a fucking nightmare," Tangerine can't help himself. Clementine looks from Tangerine to Lemon, and then to The Son beside her. 

"It's unfortunately genetic," she can be heard mumbling just as there was the telltale buzzing of a phone. While the brothers each searched their own pockets, Clementine rifled through her bag with a frown; the buzzing clearly wasn't coming from her side, so Tangerine's not quite sure why she thought it would be her's -

"Shit, that asshole stole my phone," Lemon realises, followed almost immediately by him reaching for his holster, like he'd forgotten it was gone, "fuck, right," he hissed as Tangerine was searching his jacket pockets for the buzzing phone, "that was my favourite gun, Lucille, son of a bitch." He's again looking around, as if any of them could have already overlooked their assailant still being on this carriage. Clementine, however, had managed to find her phone and was texting, wearing a sharp frown. He'd asked after. 

Tangerine answers the phone and puts it on speaker, turned down low enough that only the three of them would be able to properly hear. 

"Right, what -?"

"Step off the train at the next stop with the briefcase and The Son," the voice on the other end of the line has a thick, Russian accent, even stronger than The Son's had been, and Clementine's gaze snaps to attention. 

"Hang on a minute, didn't we say Kyoto?" Tangerine pushes back, watching Clementine for her reaction, as if he could gauge anything from it.

"You will still depart at Kyoto," the voice confirms, but adds, "The White Death wants to make sure you are being honest about the situation." 

"Well this is a complete waste of our -" Tangerine doesn't even get his retort off before he's hung up on, while Lemon is still silently fuming. Clementine's expression is stony, however, her eyes following the phone as Tangerine tucks it back into his pocket, focusing on the table when it's out of her sight. Her phone has also been returned to her bag it appears.

"Alright, alright," Lemon sighs, "we just have to prove we have a case we don't have, and a live son instead of a dead one." Tangerine's already got half an idea for how to fool the White Death's men on the station, but he still clarifies with his brother -

"What 're you thinking?" And his brother thankfully appears to have had the same idea; "the ol' Punch and Judy." There was no dignity puppetting a dead man, but at least it might buy them some more time. Lemon was happy enough for Tangerine to do the talking, but there was still one more problem.

"And her?"

"I'm asking my charge if she's found the case where Glasses might have stashed it," Clementine admits, adding with certainty, "but we need them to see I'm working with you," Clementine answers Lemon's sceptical look without hesitation.

"Won't they be suspicious; you don't play well with others," Lemon raised his eyebrows at Clementine, and Tangerine had to admit he had a point; The Scorpion always killed her competition. It was so well known that several more well connected fixers had gotten into the habit of telling operatives they liked when a contract was rumour to have also been picked up by The Scorpion.

Clementine's expression, however, twisted into something almost amused-

"Oh, I play very well with others," but there's no humour in her voice, "that's how I operate, and if the voice on the other end of that call is waiting for us at the station, then the idea of me playing nice with my competition would be entirely in line with their perception of me."

"Not that I'm not glad you're on our side -" Tangerine breaks the silence that had followed Clementine's revelation, "- well, actually, jury's still out on that one - but I can see why he'd call you a monster," his tone is candid and light, despite his words, and he nods to The Son.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Clementine looked from Tangerine to The Son and back again. Then, after a moment, her brow creased, "he called me a monster?" And there was a sudden, dangerous fury in her voice.

"Froggy little bastard," she spits in Russian under her breath.

"You know he can't hear you," Lemon can't help himself, and Clementine levels a razor sharp glare at him.

"You can argue semantics or titles with your dead ex after we buy ourselves some more time, don't you think? It's just a statement he made, and I don't think he's necessarily wrong," he looks to Clementine, continuing before she can argue, "considering your passion projects have a body count. Now can we got get our story straight?" He stood from his chair, offering his hand to Clementine, a rather quiet frustration in his tone, "please? Thank you?" And the minute she's up and in the aisle he's tugging her along.  

There's still several minutes until the train arrives at Shizuoka Station, but he had to get out of that moment to feel like he could breathe again. He needs a fucking smoke, but all he can do is fidget with his cigarette in the thankfully empty space by the train door. He wants to swear, maybe to fight someone or something, needs to figure out how to deal with these fucking revelations as they keep trying to trip him up.

"I'm not sorry about New York," Clementine blurts out after a few long moments. Tangerine, slumped against the wall, can't even look at her. Still, it's a weird thing to say.

"Don't think I'd forgive you if you were," he finally offers. He knew he was being petty, but he couldn't exactly bring himself to care.

"I wouldn't expect you to," she says with surprising sincerity, following it with, "I am sorry about coming back, about all of this," when he glances at her, he sees she's not even facing him; she's got her back to him, half a foot away and clutching her bag with both hands, peering through the windows into the carriages, "I mean it; would have been nice for at least one person to remember me fondly," turning to lean back against the wall opposite him she still doesn't look at him, instead gazing up with a forlorn smile, "and it would have been two with Lemon." Then, after a moment, her smile turns rueful, her tone self deprecating, "unsurprisingly I don't make a lot of friends -"

"- we're not friends, Clementine," Tangerine tells her sharply, "and no offence, but I rather wish you'd stayed dead; there's something fucking awful in hindsight knowing you were getting off to me committing your war crimes." 

"Wait, what?" It's the visceral revulsion in her voice that finally gets through his own sense of betrayal. A long, tense silence follows, and when finally Tangerine feels like he can look at Clementine, she's gazing at him with abject horror.

"Is this about those nights? The first aid text nights? Did you think I was celebrating?" She sounded genuinely aghast at the very suggestion, "what the fuck," she breathed, "I wasn't- I wasn't celebrating, I just didn't know how else to give you genuine, human support, since it's not like you'd ever fucking ask -"

"The fuck are you on about?"

"Why did you think I insisted on taking Lemon out for lunch the next day? I wasn't trying to defer suspicion away from our fucking affair, I just connect with him differently. Every fucking up thing I asked of you both was something I'd done before, I know the kind of toll that takes on a person, I know what kind of monster that-" she faltered, expression slowly dropping, the light leaving her eyes as she shuts herself down, as she hides her despair. Taking a deep breath, she dipped her gaze before coming back to meet his, unreadable, "I know what kind of monster that made me; I just didn't want either of you to feel like that too." Then, as she began to realise something, a crack appears in her expression, and he sees genuine heartbreak in her eyes for just a moment; "you think I never actually cared about you." 

"Oh piss off," Tangerine snaps, rolling his eyes rather than thinking about what this all means, "do you really fuckin' blame me?"

"We talked for hours every other night- every night in that last week!" She let out a disbelieving laugh, eyes widening, "can I ask you something, Tangerine? Can I have this one question after all you've asked me?" She spat, and Tangerine narrowed his eyes at her, but was quiet, waiting, "I used you, I traumatised you, I betrayed you, sure! I'm the bad guy! I'll own up to it! So what's the problem? Didn't you use me for information, for fucking stress relief, for companionship with someone who wasn't your brother? Because you made it clear in New York that you didn't love me, that you couldn't love me, and even if you could, you wouldn't love me. Doesn't it absolve your guilt to know I wanted it to be like that?"

"That your question?" Tangerine murmurs, tone level and quiet, pulling out a cigarette as the next station drew closer. Something about her words had stung in the same way as The Son's final words did as they played on repeat in his mind, "because I'm sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but whatever I felt for the version of you all those months ago, it never ended up as guilt."

"I think so," Clementine sighed, then, "maybe, I don't know. I don't think I had a real question, I think I just needed half a second to talk," she admits before huffing a faint laugh, "I wish I'd stayed dead too." And finally she looks at him, at the way he's watching her over his shoulder, expression far softer than she'd probably been expecting, "I'm sorry for coming back. I'm sorry for ruining everything with hindsight."

"It's our job," Tangerine says after a moment, "don't apologise. Don't feel guilt. You of all people should know that. We're monsters and we live with that."

The train is pulling to a stop, smooth and efficient as it is every time, the conductor is announcing Shizuoka Station, and as the doors are hissing open, their faint warning chime going off, Tangerine hears Clementine's voice so faint he's not even sure if he was meant to;

"I never wanted to be a monster."

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Y/n: Hey I’m about to get in the shower. You wanna join me?

Tangerine: There’s a pistol taped underneath the island in the kitchen. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me. Aim for the head, don’t stop until I’m dead.

[jj-5656]

Sneaking Suspicions With; Tangerine (Bullet Train)

A/n: Are we proud? Two uploads in two days. This is how I procrastinate doing any homework. Could not get this idea out of my head so here we are. This is my first for Tangerine, but I just recently rewatched Bullet Train and couldn’t resist. Had to add Lemon too because it’s simply not complete without him. Also, the bit about Thomas is all true, I was obsessed with that show when I was young. Enjoy!

Summary: The one where your boyfriend attempts to build a kitchen table, and nearly slaughters your neighbor...

T/W: A LOT of cursing, some suggestive humor, mentions of violence...duh

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” You wince as tools clatter in the kitchen. Discarding your current task of rummaging through boxes with Tangerine’s scribbled writing marked ‘bathroom’.

You’ve finally moved in to the new place after months of preparation. Having been together for 8 months, it was about time you moved in together. Tan practically lived at your old place anyway, though taking this step was intimidating for both of you. His brother had egged you on for months, desperately wanting their shared apartment as his own.

Hence why Tangerine is sat on the floor, muttering curses as he attempts to assemble your dining table.

“Tan, why won’t you let me help you?”

“I told you, I’ve got it, love. Fucking bastards,” his shoulders tense with anger as he speaks. “Can’t even make a buildable fuckin’ table. I’ll show them ‘quick and easy’ right up their fuckin’-”

“Did you even look at the directions, baby?” He furrows his brows, turning to you like you’ve grown another head. 

“Directions are for morons.” 

“Or for people with zero table assembling experience.” You mutter, fighting a grin under his tense stare. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, only sporting a wife pleaser and trousers in the summer heat. You internally cringe at the reminder your stubborn boyfriend intends to install the air conditioner on his own as well.

“Maybe we could ask Brian across the hall, he said he does construction for his dad part time.”

“You chopping it up with that lad already? Right git, he is.��

“He’s nice, Tan.”

“He’s a flirt, and a shit one at that.” It forces a laugh from you, Tangerine frustrated that the sound still manages to ease the tension from his muscles. 

“I’ll ring Lemon, then.” 

“I swear to Christ, if you call my muppet of a brother-” 

And that’s how Lemon ends up knocking at your door, takeout in hand and a bright smile on his face at the sight of you. 

“Hello, lovely. Call for reinforcements already?” 

There’s a distant “fuck off” from the kitchen, but you nod nonetheless, thanking him for the food and much needed company. Lemon’s rooted for your relationship even before his brother. Insisting he get your number that fateful night in that shitty club all those months ago. 

***************

You’d been sharing drinks with a group of friends when a man bumped into you, nearly knocking you over with the size of him. He’d caught you by the shoulders before you could fall, sending the drunken, clumsy patron an icy glare before surveying you for any injury. He’d clasped both his hands around one of yours, profusely muttering overly-posh, accented apologies. You were ready to cuss out whoever had been so careless before you laid eyes on him, overwhelmed with the British charm and piercing eyes. 

“Can I buy you and your friends a drink? I’ll be out of your hair after, promise.” His sincerity makes you want to request he sticks around the rest of the evening, though you shake your head. Polite commonalities ingrained in your nature. 

“Not necessary, I appreciate it.” You assure with a kind smile, ignoring your friends gawking at the pin-stripe clad gentleman. He nods, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable as he gives your elbow a gentle squeeze in one last apology. Heading back the way he came, sitting beside another well-dressed man at the bar. What looks like a round of chastising from the raven-haired man, and the handsome stranger is waving him off, glancing over at you and taking a generous sip of his drink. 

“You did not seriously just turn Poseiden-incarnate down.” Your girlfriend finally manages to close her slacked jaw, frustrated with your shyness. 

“He was just being polite, Brooke. I didn’t want to have him buy for the whole table in obliga-” A waitress approaches before you can finish, smiling brightly at the lot of you as she sets down a round of espresso martinis. 

“The gentlemen across the bar insisted. On him, of course.” The older woman shoots you a wink, a chorus of cheers from your friends in salute to the man across the way. He sends a kind smile, tilting his own glass and looking like he hates the sudden attention. He meets your eyes for only a moment, starting up conversation with the man beside him in a silent obedience to his promise of leaving you be. 

It’s hours before you see him again, headed outside for some fresh air after spending too much time on the dance floor. You’re sober enough to hold your own, comforted in the array of bouncers nearby if needed. You’re sat on a bench just in front of the club, craving some relief from your heels. There’s a flick of a lighter beside you, a curse when it doesn’t ignite any flame. You’re searching through your clutch instantly, offering up your own light without a second thought. 

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.” You perk at the accent, trailing the extended arm to meet the man’s gaze for the third time that evening. 

“Don’t. Not cigarettes, anyway.” He smiles through the now ignited stick, quirking his head in quiet contemplation. His eyes study you, and surprisingly, it’s almost endearing. There’s no suggestive indications to his observations, like most men you’d encounter. It’s contemplative, as if he’s trying to figure out. 

“You always stare at strangers?” Your wit pleasantly surprises him, and his grin grows despite himself. 

“Apologies, love. Just taking it all in. Mind if I sit?” You nod, thanking the cold for the constant flush of your cheeks that’ll hopefully conceal the blood that rushes to them at his words. “Never got your name.” 

“Y/n, nice to meet you.” You take his extended hand for a shake, wincing at the formality of your words. 

“Tangerine, pleasure’s all mine.” He awaits the usual ‘like the fruit’ with sudden irritation, but it never comes, so he relaxes.

“That a nickname?”

“Of sorts.” You don’t pry, not interested in scaring him off just yet. If he wanted to tell, you, he would. In his mind, Tangerine thanks you profusely. Pleased to have met someone uninterested in forcing information out of him. 

“Whose your friend?” You mean the other good-looking guy beside him the entire night, who must still be inside. 

“Brother,” he corrects, not unkind. “Hoping he won’t be trollied on the way home.” Your eyes narrow, unaccustomed to the slang. Tangerine exhales a stream of smoke away from you, wetting his lips with a twinge of amusement. 

“Drunk, love. Or wasted, as you’d put it.” A laugh escapes you, thoroughly entertained with his dramatic mock of an American accent. 

“That is not how we sound.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, defensive and patriotic for likely the first time in your life. “You guys are still salty we won.” He bellows a laugh this time, and the warm sound erupts butterflies in the stomach. 

“Blokes chucked boxes of tea in the ocean in retaliation. The fuck kind of war crime is that?” 

“One that proper fucked your economy.” You attempt your own dramatic accent, curious as to why he tries so hard to fight smiling. You assume he’s usually much more stoic without the aid of alcohol and new company. 

“Bloody hell, that was awful.” He teases with no real ill-will, stubbing out his cigarette when his brother stumbles out of the building. You hear him mutter something about ‘shit timing’ as the taller man approaches, kind smile adorning his handsome features. 

“You’ve found your Edwards!” He clasps his hands together, absolutely delighted before he sits himself in between the two of you. Tangerine looks absolutely pissed, astonished when you beam brightly at his intoxicated brother. 

“Edwards?” You question despite Tangerine’s shaking head of warning. 

“Edwards.” He assures, adjusting his suit jacket as he gets comfortable. “Wise, kind...We’ve only just met, I know. But, you see, I’m great at reading people.” 

“Christ, here we fucking go again.”

“Everything I learned about people, I learned from Thomas the-” 

“Tank engine!” You finish for him, the pair shocked at your enthusiasm. “That was my favorite show when I was little!”

“You don’t say?” The man beams, looking over at his brother with an undoubted stamp of approval. 

“Swear it. Had the stuffy for years, an entire train table set too.”

“The one with the wooden tracks you could build yourself?” 

“And the magnetic crane to lift up the figurines!” The two of you are absolutely enamored, enthralled in the conversation whilst Tangerine broods opposite you. Making a mental note to shoot his beloved brother in the foot the second he gets him alone. 

“Bloody hell, I loved that set. What a coincidence!” He turns to his brother, shaking with anger. 

“Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Is all he manages, messing with the rings on his fingers to calm himself from the outright cockblock. Fuckin’ muppet. 

“Names’ Lemon. Pleasure to meet you doll, truly. A real Edward, you are.” 

“You really think so?” The alcohol ends any fight to conceal your pleased expression, glancing over at Tangerine who forces a smile at your grant of attention. 

“Know so. Brother over here’s a Gordon, don’t you think?”

“I could see that.” This time you’re the one to study said man, lip quirking when he shifts under your gaze. 

“Alright, we should get you home.” Tan rises with a roll of his shoulders, ready to head back with his head hanging low in a failed feat. Lemon frowns, pushing away the strong arm that’s pulling at him so he can dig through the inner pocket of his expensive jacket. Pulling out a folded and well-worn sheet of paper. 

“Here comes the fucking sticker book. Of course.” 

“You know I bring it everywhere. Here, love.” Lemon peels the Edward sticker from the sheet. Sticking it onto your finger with a soft ‘boop’. You gasp, delighted. 

“The lady’s real chuffed, Lemon. Let her get back to her friends for Christ’s sake.” He pulls the man to a standing position, waving down an approaching taxi with an ear-piercing whistle. “You got a friend getting you home safe, sweetheart?” You nod, pressing the new sticker to the back of your phone and pressing your case back on it. Aiming to keep it safe indefinitely. Tan suppresses a smile, finding it absolutely adorable. He buttons his jacket, straightening in self-discipline to push away the love-sick thoughts. 

“Have a good night, you two. It was nice meeting you.” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, the farewell and the unlikeliness of running into them again tugging at your heart strings. Weird, considering you just met the two men and you already want to get to know them more. Especially the handsome fuck with the unrelenting charm. 

“Like-wise, love.” Tangerine ushers his brother into the backseat of the car, muttering something to the driver before turning on his heel to face you again. Brows taught in consideration. He battles with himself, weighing if he’s selfish enough to try and get to know someone as seemingly kind-hearted as you. You’d deserve better. He surveys you a final time, every nerve-ending in his body begging for more. You’re about to head back inside when he clears his throat, grabbing your attention.

“Any chance you’d be willing to give me your number, sweetheart? Just to make sure you get home safe?” He prays it doesn’t sound too hopeful, as desperate as he is for you to comply. You cock your head incredulously, and he swears his heart skips a beat. 

“Just to make sure I get home?”  

“And maybe to ask you to dinner. Or, you say no and I fuck off.” You chew on the inside of your cheek to suppress the excited grin. Hoping you appear nonchalant despite yourself. Taking a few steps forward, you extend your hand. Brows raising in expectation as he stares at you. He snaps out of it, digging into his pocket with a muttered ‘oh, right.’ 

“All right mate! Thought you’d never get the balls to ask her. Been going on and on about her since you nearly tackled ‘er”

“Fuck off, Lemon.” Tan seethes, eyes averting to you when you giggle through your rushed typing into his phone. “He’s drunk, pay no mind.” 

“Trollied, right?” There’s teasing heavy on your tongue, and it takes everything in him not to pull you in for a kiss right there. On the curb of some mangy club whilst the impatient driver honks in warning. 

“Right. Goodnight, love. Careful getting home, yeah?” You nod, mindlessly standing up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Night.” 

And with that, you’re headed back inside. Feeling his eyes on you the entire time. Only looking back when the door closes behind you. Ensuring he can’t see you spying. He has his head down, biting a smirk from his lips before gaining composure, tossing himself into the cab beside his brother. 

***********

“You’re not needed, I have this handled.” 

“You don’t actually. I’ve seen corpses more capable of brain activity than this, mate.” 

“Piss off.” 

“I would, but I like your girlfriend more than you, and therefore don’t want to leave her with this,” he motions to the mess of tools and table parts, “all alone.” 

The two of you sit opposite him, Lemon unfolds the discarded instruction sheet with a deep sigh. 

“You’ve got the wrong bolt on that one.”

“No I don’t.” 

“You do, mate. Considering I’m the one with the fucking instructions.” 

“See, if I was a fuckin’ mug like you, I’d need the directions. But I’m not, so I don’t.” 

“Well, you must be. Considering that’s the wrong fucking bolt.” 

You rub your temples, fighting an oncoming migraine. Taking the drill from the floor and setting it counter-clockwise to remove the damned bolt. Tan takes it from you, setting his hand on your stomach to push your criss-crossed form backward. 

“Hey!”

“What did I say? I didn’t want you doing this, Dove. You’ve just gotten those nails done. I-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “We got this covered.” 

“This seems patronizing and sexist.” 

“Quite the opposite. I respect you so much I’d rather not have you sit on the floor and do this.” 

You huff, arms crossed as you glare at him. Too worn out to argue, and figuring there’s an array of boxes to be unpacked, you scramble to your feet. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Maybe later, love. I’m quite busy at the moment.” The cheeky response gets a laugh out of even Lemon, who straightens as soon as your heated gaze snaps to him. You flip them both off, no real anger to it as you head back toward the bathroom. 

**********

Another couple hours pass and you’ve finished both bathrooms and are working on the master bedroom. Airpods in to block out the onslaught of arguments. You hum to your music, unaware of the eyes on you.

Tangerine leans against the doorway, finding comfort in watching you in your shared home. It’s weird, new, to share just about everything now. Scary, no doubt. Tan had walls around him so high it took months for you to even shake them. But you’ve done it, somehow. A little minx, he regards you, because you’ve managed to get through to him sometimes without him even realizing. He’s eternally grateful whatever scraps of good karma he had left accumulated to bring you into his life. Terrified it might one day be ripped away. Every time the thought passes his mind, his throat tightens, and he gets the overwhelming urge to hold you and never let go. 

Your startled gasp snaps him out of it, a hand clasping over your heart in shock. “Christ, Tan. Give a girl a warning.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He swallows, a beat before continuing. “I love you.” Your eyes narrow at his sweet tone, trying to uncover the mischief in his sultry voice. 

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing, honest. I can’t say I love you?” 

“You can.” You turn your head from him, suppressing a smirk as you busy yourself with folding clothes. “Just...Not in the hall, okay?” 

“What? Why?”

“It’s just,” you’re holding in a laugh now, a death wish for sure. “I don’t want Brian to hear, that’s all.” He crosses his arms, hiding his clenching fists at your teasing. 

“You think that’s funny? Taking the piss like that?”  You muffle a laugh with your sleeve, morphing it into a cough. “Tread lightly, my love.” 

“You know, I bet Brian builds loads of tables. Must be real fast at it, considering he works in construction and all. Lot’s of strong men in that field of work.”

“Y/n.” Your name is rare on his lips, singed with irritation. You’re clearly well-past having him worked up, You press on, keen on getting him back for his suggestive comment from before. 

“I always wanted to get to know a blue-collar type. So hardworking, great with their hands-” You’re in the air and flopped onto the mattress yet to have a bed frame before you can even process it. He cages you in, an arm on either side of your head to support himself as his eyes bore daggers into yours. Curls unruly and dampened with sweat. 

“Stop it. Or beloved Brian’s in a body bag by tomorrow morning, yeah?” You know he’s not entirely serious, but also entirely capable, so you nod. You press your lips together, thoroughly amused. He takes your jaw in his hand and uses his thumb to pull your lips free. Tugging you into a kiss, he’s only satisfied when you gasp after your bottom lip is bit. Not too hard, he’d never hurt you, but it’s enough warning to shut you up. He gets up, hands on his hips and breathing heavy as he watches you get to your feet. Wordlessly, he sweeps a leg under yours, chuckling when you’re collapsing back into the mattress with an umph. 

“You really are a fucking Gordon, you know that?” There’s no time to scramble away from his lunging form as he tugs you by the ankle toward him. One hand grabbing your arm and the other on your leg as he hoists you over his shoulder, cheekily reminding you of the power imbalance as he carries your squirming form down the corridor and into the kitchen. Where Lemon lays sprawled out on the now standing table. The air conditioner hums across the room, and the faux argument is ripped from your mind as you survey the accomplished tasks. 

“Nothing a little teamwork and drive can’t do,” Lemon boasts. “You know where I learned that, Tangerine?”

“If you mention the fucking trains, It’ll be the last thing you fuckin’ do.”

*************

“Tan, could you pass the lo mein?” Your boyfriend chews thoughtfully, considering it for a moment before extending it to you. Your eyes narrow when he pulls away as soon as you reach. 

“Maybe you should ask Brian.” 

“My god, we’re still on this?” 

“Should have known better than to tease him with another man, love. Gordons are prone to jealousy.”

“Fuckin’ pipe it, Lems.”

“It was a joke, baby. Are you gonna hold this over my head forever?” You find it endearing, hard to believe Tangerine could think there’s even a hint of honesty to your teasing. 

“Until I’m sure you’re proper guilty, yeah.” There’s a hint of play in his tone, and you know he only wants to hear you repeat your devotion. 

“Tan, love, baby, sweetheart, love of my life, will you please pass the lo mein to your dutifully devoted girlfriend?”

“Sure thing, love. Could have just said so.” The playful banter is stuttered to a halt when Tan sets the box beside you, the legs of the newly built table creaking as they give out. With their instinctive reflexes, Lemon and Tangerine keep the entire thing from collapsing. You’re slack-jawed, in utter shock at the absurdity and slight victory of being right, as god damn usual. 

“Dove,” your boyfriend’s voice strains under the exertion, meeting your eyes “be a doll and take everything off here?” You’re up in an instant, quickly snatching the array of food and plates off the surface. Lemon begins to laugh despite himself, and Tangerine seethes with frustration. 

“Maybe we should-”

“Don’t. Don’t even think about saying that fuckin’ muppets name.” Tan stares daggers into his brothers eyes, paying no mind to your stifled giggles. When they finally set the table on the ground, you approach him. Tugging at his arms so you can wrap yours around his waist. You press your chin into his chest, running a hand through his unruly curls. 

“Baby.” You’re soft, tone so sweet and eyes big and pleading. 

“Lose the puppy eyes, doll. It’s a no.” 

“I personally would like to finish dinner not on the floor. But that’s just me.” Lemon purses his lips, brows raised expectantly at his brother.

Tan releases a deep, shaky sigh, dark gaze softening when he meets yours. He tries to tug his head away when your hands hold it, but you’re insistent, making him face you again. 

“I’m all yours, alright? I promise.” You kiss both his cheeks and then his neck, some tension leaving him. He tilts his head in faux irritation when you stick out your pinky to him, grinning when he finally gives in and wraps his much bigger one around yours. 

**********

“It’s already so nicely decorated in here.” Brian surveys the room with a polite smile, turning to you. “All this is your eye, y/n?” You straighten, hoping the man won’t notice your boyfriend’s homicidal stare. 

“Tan has more taste, admittedly.” You’re not just trying to take the attention off you, it’s the truth. 

“Well that should be obvious, he got you.” Lemon coughs, setting a hand on his brother’s shoulder with tight, grounding grip. The slightly shorter man boils beside him, eyes boring into yours in an enraged ‘I told you so’. 

Your neighbor places his work bag on the floor, cringing at the sight of the flattened table. He approaches the brothers, clueless, patting their arms with sympathy. 

“Should have gotten me earlier, guys. You know you can call me over any time for some help. Handiwork isn’t for everyone, some things are just left for the professionals. 

“No kidding.” Tan mutters, letting Lemon pry his fingers from the biggest kitchen knife you own when the man’s back is turned to them. 

“We’ll have to grab brunch sometime, y/n.” He’s blissfully unaware as he talks between rounds of the drill. Unscrewing mistakes and penciling out where they should actually go. “I’ll fill you in on the rest of the neighbors. Some of the ones to avoid and all.” Lemon’s practically wrapped around his brother, praying to a god he doesn’t believe that the clueless fuck will shut up. You cross the room while he drills away, placing your hands on Tan’s chest and pressing into him. He can’t even see you, can’t even feel you as his blood burns his own skin. Considering the fasted method of kill and cleanup over and over again in a final stitch to calm himself. 

“You’ll have meet Cody first, of course. I’ve already told him there’s finally another young couple in the building. Thank god.” 

“S-Sorry, mate?” Lemon loosens his grip in realization, fighting a bellowing laugh. 

“My bad, I tend to drill when I’m talking. Cody gets on me for that, too, This is what I mean, sweetheart. We need to escape the doting boyfriends for a little. Enough to drive anyone nuts.” He shoots you another smile, pleased to see you nodding profusely. 

“Absolutely.” You turn to Tan, whose brows are taught in utter confusion. “They can be a real pain sometimes.”

“But, alas.” The drill whirs, he stops talking for a beat and then releases the trigger to finish. “We love them.”

“To bits and pieces.” 

Tan collapses against the counter, right exhausted from the strain of keeping his composure. Pure relief washes over him, and you let him pull you into an embrace.

“Boys, would you mind helping me turn this right side up? i think I’m all finished here.” They comply, Tan reluctantly pulling away and kissing your temple in silent apology. Together, they set it upright and each give it a good shake to ensure it’s stability. 

“Thanks, mate. I owe you.” Your boyfriend gives the now beloved neighbor a firm shake, a hint of guilt in his eyes. 

“British and handsome, you two are truly a killer pair.” Brian gathers his things and checks a notification ding on his phone. Sighing fondly. “Speak of the devil.” He waves his phone to you with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. “See you all soon.” Giving you a quick hug, he exits as soon as he came.

“Most definitely not a diesel, that bloke.” 

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Lemon, Tangerine, and reader are in their early twenties, toxic relationship, swearing, violence, men (the gross kind), body/weight insecurities, cheating, intoxication

~ based on a conversation i had with my wife @little-miss-dilf-lover and lightly inspired by Dial Drunk by Noah Kahn ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It was midnight when you heard the sharp knocks on your apartment door. You knew your roommate was already asleep so you quickly pad out of your bedroom and through the living room, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you open the door a sliver and peer out into the corridor. You see Lemon first, a sympathetic look painted across his features as he holds up an extremely drunk Tangerine.

Tangerine's face is covered in bruises, the skin around his eye is slowly turning purple and you see the blood on his knuckles as he flexes his hands. Your eyes widen and you hurry out into the hall, your bare feet against the harsh carpet as you quietly shut the door behind you. "What happened?" you whisper, worried for him. Tangerine just grunts, his eyes glossy. 

He's been crying. 

Lemon groans and holds his brother higher, looking at you knowingly. As if he knows the news will somehow break your heart. You stare at him, as if to say 'cut the bullshit' because you want to see if it has something to do with Macey—which it probably does.

Tangerine and Macey have been dating on and off for years. Since high school she's had him wrapped around her pinky, his head a lust-filled mess that very quickly turned into full-blown puppy-love. She'd always be the one to dump him and he'd always come back because he loved her so much. It was an endless cycle that lasted until now, your junior year of university. 

You hate her. You have never hated anyone as much as you hate Macey Addams. 

You hate her silky ginger hair, the way her dark eyes contrast Tangerine's blue ones so well, and that fake smile she reserves for you when you see her. You hate how she laughs, how she talks, and how she looks in those skin-tight dresses Tangerine loves so much.  

You hate her.

You hate how you're not her. 

"Ran into some 'friends' from high school at the bar," Lemon says, emphasizing the word friends with a grunt, "Said some things this dick didn't like so he had to start a fucking bar fight, like some fucking criminal. All because of some bird who doesn't want nothin' to do with you anymore, mate," Lemon scolds Tangerine, who slouches against the wall and slides down, holding his head in his arms. 

"Someone called the coppers and I had to bail him out."

Your eyes widen and you run a hand in your messy hair, kneeling in front of Tangerine as you look up at Lemon. "Really?"

Lemon nods and removes his hand from Tangerine's shoulder. He walks away further down the hall, shaking his head as he groans. Lemon's mumbling curses under his breath and so is Tangerine, only his sound sadder than his brother. 

"Hey," you whisper, "Tan?"

His arms attach themselves to your waist, holding you close as he sobs. You sigh, resting your hand on his head as you let him hold you. Sometimes you'd find yourself being bitter, because why does he love Macey so much when you've always been here for him? 

You'd gift him the moon if you could, but instead, you're stuck being just this—his best friend.

Not that you're complaining. 

"Y/n?" he asks a while later as you both sit on the floor of your room, having managed to sneak him quietly through the living room. You're nursing frozen peas to his knuckles as he leans his head against your bed. Knowing Tangerine was in good hands, Lemon had gone home. 

You hum, looking at him. 

"If I could choose who I was in love with," he begins, his intoxication still obvious only he's slowly sobering up. He blinks slowly, finding his words, "I'd choose you."

You look into his blue eyes you'd normally want to drown yourself in and your heart shatters. He means well, you know this. Plus, how is he supposed to know you're actually madly in love with him when you've never told him?

However, the words hurt like hell knowing his love for Macey is almost otherworldly. He speaks of it like a chemical reaction he has no control over and you're simply the choice. Something mundane and easier. 

You turn your head and quickly wipe a tear from your cheek so he doesn't see. You look at him again and strain a smile. 

"I'd choose you too, Tan."

* * *

Four months later, although sometimes you would find him lost in thoughts of her, she was mostly a distant memory and your feelings for Tangerine have been successfully repressed.  

The pub is extra crowded this evening and you slither your way through people to where your date is. His name is Adrien, which is a respectable name. He's handsome enough if not a little boring. You order your drinks and then the conversation turns sour. 

"I mean, females need to watch their crabs, y'know. You should really order a salad," Adrien pushes the menu across the table, his voice calm like he'd just called the sky blue. You frown, cheeks warm as you cross an arm over your stomach, feeling insecure in your dress. 

"Females?" you repeat in disbelief that a man like this exists.

He doesn't answer. The waiter comes with the wine and you gulp yours down in one go.

In hindsight you should have left the moment Adrien opened his mouth, but something inside you embarrassingly craved any form of affection up until he tried to kiss you outside the pub, and when you pushed him away for the second time, he called you an ugly bitch and stormed off. 

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the lamppost, your hand clutching your purse strap so hard it hurts. You sniffle and fumble with your phone, texting the one person you know won't hesitate to come pick you up. You really don't want to walk home.

Minutes later, his car screeches in front of the pub and he opens the door from the driver's side, looking at you with a concerned expression as you climb in, buckling yourself. "Thanks," you mutter. 

"S'no problem, poppet," Tangerine says, sending you a sideways look as he starts the car again, shifting the gear as he drives off. You sink into the expensive leather seats and look out the window. You sniffle again, still holding an arm over your stomach. 

You keep hearing Tangerine's ringtone. Someone's bombarding him with texts. You turn, catching a glimpse of the contact's name as she calls him up again. The screen flashes her name. Mae. Macey. Tangerine turns his phone over in the center console, turning off the sound as he focuses on the road.

You look at him, your frown momentarily distracting you from how watery your eyes have become from the evening events. "Don't you want to answer?" you whisper. You know Tangerine would usually jump at an opportunity for her attention. This time, his jaw clenches and he shakes his head. 

"Rude to answer the phone when you're with someone, innit?" he says, looking at you briefly. "Are ya okay, love?" he asks, his tone softer now. 

You're a little surprised he's putting you over Macey but you relish in it.

You shrug. "Hm, bad date," you say. 

Tangerine's nose scrunches and his hands tighten on the wheel. "Did something happen?"

"If you count him being a jerk who thought it was normal to comment on my food choice on the first date, then yeah." You roll your eyes and look out the window again, blinking rapidly not to cry. You cross your other arm across your stomach as you instinctively suck in.

Tangerine catches the movement and his frustration boils. "You look beautiful," he says and places his hand on your knee. "Don't," he whispers, waiting for you to relax your poor stomach. You do it with a sigh and you're silent the rest of the car ride.

Once you're back home, Tangerine agrees to stay the night to keep you company after such a horrible experience. It really isn't smart, considering your heart latches on to him immediately, and it is only sent plummeting when just before your eyes flutter shut to sleep, you hear Tangerine's muffled voice in your bathroom, her name on his tongue.   

Of course, he'd called her back. 

* * *

Six months later Lemon is throwing a housewarming party for him and his fiancée, Liv. You'd decide to bring your boyfriend of three months. Unbeknownst to you, Tangerine also had invited a plus one neither you nor Lemon approved of. 

"Y/n/n!" her shrill voice calls over the music as you turn, your champagne almost falling from your hand as you see her. Her fiery red hair is cut shorter but it's as pretty as ever as she drops Tangerine's arm and skips over, pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." Macey's tone is sweet, almost as if you'd been best friends for years. 

You see Tangerine handing Lemon his and Macey's coat, whispering something to his brother who sends him a dirty look. Macey continues to hug you and then introduces herself to your boyfriend Charlie. You don't miss how Charlie's gaze flickers to her breasts in her navy skin-tight dress. Macey smiles sweetly at him.

You feel sick. 

You excuse yourself and find Tangerine in the kitchen as he looks for a drink. "Macey? Really? You're a fucking puppy wrapped around her finger," you spit, slightly drunk from the champagne and frustrated from the situation.

Tangerine rolls his eyes. "She's changed. We're good now."

"You sound so stupid," you accuse, walking over and shoving his shoulder in an attempt to knock some sense into him. He grunts and steadies you with his hands as he frowns. 

"You're sloshed, Y/n."

You shake your head and push his hand away, eyes lidded. "You fucking tell your girl to keep her dirty mitts away from my boyfriend then!" Tangerine's anger rises as he hates what you're implying just as much as you do. 

"She's not like that," he argues and you scoff, turning around to storm off into the living room again. 

"Not anymore," Tangerine calls but you ignore him. 

An hour or two later, after some rounds of charades and sneaking glances you wish you hadn't seen between Charlie and Macey, you're even drunker. Lemon is beginning to worry as Liv insists you have more water. You don't know what you hate more, that your current boyfriend keeps looking at another woman, or how said woman keeps playing with Tangerine's tie as she sits curled up in his lap. 

You think it's all in your drunken mind when you stumble into the backyard and see Charlie with his hand under Macey's dress, her leg wrapped around his hip as they kiss passionately. They're probably fueled by liquor and lust but it doesn't matter, the dam breaks and you turn around, stumbling inside, alerting them to your presence. You're crying as you slam your head into someone's hard chest. 

"Woah. Bloody hell," Tangerine frowns and looks at you. He's probably the only sober person here. He's been fully sober for more than half a year now.  His hand comes up to your cheek immediately as he pads at your tears. "Love, what happened?"

You don't answer him, only sobbing more as you push by him and rush into the upstairs bathroom. Charlie stumbles inside, buttoning up his shirt and he makes uncomfortable eye contact with Tangerine. He stops cold, clears his throat, and nods his head at him before he rushes up the stairs after you. 

Tangerine's stomach drops. He takes a calming breath and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks outside and sees Macey adjusting her dress and wiping the sides of her mouth, where her mauve lipstick had smudged.

She turns to him, her voice still as she says calmly, "I can explain, T." She doesn't sound remorseful in any way, a clear indication that he's been letting her walk all over him. 

He takes another breath and walks to her, his demeanor just as calm and Macey's expression falters. Usually, this would rile him up and she loved the adrenaline she received from calming him down and taming him. This? This was new.

"It's one thing to hurt me," Tangerine drawls, staring at her with a cold gaze. "It's another to hurt her."

Macey frowns. "Who? Y/n? Who cares—"

"I care," he interrupts and takes Macey's chin in his hand, not tightening enough to hurt her, just to scare her. "You went too far this time and I should have never given you another chance. This? Us? We should have ended years ago."

He releases her and Macey's eyes widen. "Tangerine,"

"Get out." He says sternly and turns around, adding in a harsh tone, "And lose my fuckin' number."

Tangerine hears Charlie banging on the bathroom door the moment he enters the house again and his fists clench. He strides upstairs and pulls on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling him jump as he looks at Tangerine. "Ya think ya haven't done enough?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest but hearing Tangerine, you open the door just a little and peek outside, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a mess of snot under your nose. Tangerine's gaze softens when you sniffle. 

"Tan," you whisper. 

Charlie puts his hand on the door and attempts to pry it open. "Y/n!" He sounds urgent but Tangerine shoves him away, sending him a glare as he lets himself into the small bathroom and locks the door behind him again. 

You're inconsolable now as you cry violently. As angry as you are with Tangerine for bringing her, you need him now. You grasp his shirt and rest your forehead on his chest, shaking. Tangerine is as mad at himself as you are, maybe even more so. He wraps his arms around you and inhales the scent of your shampoo as he kisses your head repeatedly. 

"Darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He hears another annoying sharp knock from Charlie again and instantly bangs his heel against the door, startling you a little but he holds you tighter and barks. 

"Piss the fuck off, twat."

The knocking ends. 

* * *

An hour later, Tangerine has you sitting on Lemon and Liv's kitchen counter as they clean up from the party. He hands you some water as he rolls up his sleeves. One of his hands finds your thigh and he rubs it soothingly. You look up at him from behind your glass, unable to resist the question.  

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Tangerine's forehead pinches and pulls his hand away so he can cup your cheeks instead. He stands in between your legs, his eyes level with yours as they search your features. "Pardon? Say that again."

"What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier than me? Does she have a better body? I- I want to be wanted like her," you sniffle, your words slurred as you're still very intoxicated no matter how much water you've drank. Your cheeks are damp from your tears. "Why does she take every man I like? Why did she take you from me when I loved you damn so much?"

Tangerine's heart leaps at your words. "Loved me?" he repeats, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod and look into his eyes. "Love," you admit, "For years—and it never stops either and I tried. I tried, Tan."

You sound so sad.

His hand shakes on your cheek and for a moment you think he's leaning in to kiss you as your eyes flutter, but instead, he crushes you into a hug. You relax in his arms, shutting your eyes fully as you whimper and the sound hits him hard. 

He'd been such an idiot. 

"I would kiss ya," he whispers, sounding sincere, "I'd kiss ya if ya weren't so damn drunk."

You're speechless. 

Liv walks in, holding an armful of paper towels with Lemon on her heels. She smiles when Tangerine shifts away from you, clearing his throat, and you try to look busy, your head spinning from Tangerine's previous words. Lemon raises an eyebrow at his brother and Tangerine communicates with his eyes. Lemon chuckles.

"G'night, lovebirds," he grins as Liv puts away the paper towels and smirks too, slapping Lemon's arm playfully.

Tangerine's cheeks burn crimson all the way up to his ears. 

Once they're gone he turns his attention to you again, looking at you fondly. "I've been a real fuckin' prick, haven't I?" he says and pushes some hair behind your ear. "Lookin' at 'er, when what I wanted was right here in front of me this whole damn time."

You blink at him, his words sinking in but you're too drunk to comprehend. 

Tangerine kisses your forehead. "I'll make it up to you," he says, his chest filling with warmth. It's a promise. One he keeps because when you wake up in Lemon's guest room, Tangerine walks in shirtless with a breakfast tray full of an assortment of toast, beans, and eggs. 

"Monrin' love," he says. He's wearing that familiar smile. A peaceful, happy, smile. The one you haven't seen him wear in a while. 

Damn does it look good on him.     

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[gh0stsp1d3r]

OMGG IM SO HAPPY THAT YOURE TAKING TAN REQUESTS HES LITERALLY MY BBG OMG ‼️‼️

So what about a reader who’s like Ellie from The Last of Us? So Tangerine and Lemon get this mission from their dealer that they have to deliver this girl to this place, like a cargo mission. And the girl is a very defiant teenager who just talks back and makes snarky comments to them (mostly to Tan T▽T). But then she ends up really trusting them and getting attached to them. I’m sorry if this is too detailed or if it doesn’t make sense 😭😭

I LOVED THIS REQUEST ANON 🤭🤭 lemon and reader are so silly heheh

Mentions of human experimentation, abuse, needles (nothing graphic or descriptive)

Annoying little sister

“Swear to god, can’t stand teenagers. This missions gonna be annoying, I can already tell.” Lemon said.

Tangerine scoffed “Says here that she’s snarky, and puts up a fight.”

“Like living hell basically.”

Tangerine stopped the car, looking at the warehouse you were in. It was guarded, heavily. They would have to sneak around.

“Shit. We better be gettin’ payed good for this girl.” Tangerine sighed,

“Why’s she so special?” Lemon asked.

“‘Parrently she’s some sorta superhuman or somethin’. Daughter of some billionaire. Human experiment I guess.” He read, and put the folder down.

“Shit, seriously? Sounds like some sorta movie stuff.”

Tangerine snorted, and opened the door quietly. They parked far away from it, and they hid behind some boxes and made their way to the back. A small door, still guarded but with less people.

They looked at each other, and looked back.

They fixed up, and stood up. They took out their guns to look like the others.

“What are you going in for?” A man stated, blocking them when they went over to the door.

“Boss wants us to go in and… interrogate..” Tangerine said, making something up on the spot.

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Your Ethan?”

Tangerine nodded.

“Oh.. just expected you to look a lot… different. Come in.” He opened the door, tangerine and lemon couldn’t believe it had worked.

The inside was empty, it had a small room. They opened the door to you, handcuffed to the bed.

You didn’t see them as you thrashed on the floor, struggling in the handcuffs and groaning in annoyance.

You snapped your head to them when you finally saw them, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What? Come here to feed me? Cause honestly I’m starving and you bitches don’t seem to have anything at all-“

You were confused when they went up to you and uncuffed you from the bed. Your hands still handcuffed however, as they roughly dragged you out. They snuck around the back again, breaking a window to distract them and leaving quickly in the car, the guards shooting it at the same time.

You then grabbed a small Bobby pin that was luckily laying on the ground when they weren’t looking. Then you were shoved into the car roughly, as they sped off.

You put your hands behind you, messing with the lock.

“So who exactly are you guys?” You questioned.

“We’re here to deliver you to someone.”

“Definitely not my dad, he don’t care bout me. So then who?”

They both ignored you, and you finally picked the lock, and put your arms on the seats.

“So where we going?”

They both looked at each other and then you.

“You seriously picked it?”

“It’s easy. I’ve done it tons. They took away all my Bobby pins though. Which makes sense because I kept breaking outta them.” You shrugged, and rambled on.

Lemon listened and he asked a question.

“So what’s the deal with your dad? And the whole human experiment thing?”

“Well, my dads just an asshole. Sure you heard of him, real famous, but he’s a asshole. He abused me and my family, blah blah sob story, and he’s the one who sold me into the human experiment thing. After that I was just passed around and giving blood 24/7.” You showed him your arm.

“Jesus Christ.” tangerine mumbled when he looked.

You shrugged “Im used to it by now. And now I’m guessing that you guys are just taking me to another buyer. More tests, yay.” You said,

Tangerine and lemon looked at each other. Tangerine knew what he was thinking. He stopped the car and parked it in an empty lot.

“Come on..” lemon said.

“No way.”

“She’s a kid.”

“I’m right here..” you mumbled.

“Exactly, she’s a kid. No. Way.”

“We can’t jus’ give her up!”

“I agree with this very nice gentleman over here.” You nodded to lemon.

“Shut it.” Tangerine said, whipping his head to you. “And it’s dangerous. Gonna be on the run if we do.”

“Don’t you remember when we were kids?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit-“

“She hasn’t had a childhood, think bout it. She didn’t have a childhood like we did.”

“Yeah, ain’t got no friends or nothing.” You said, fidgeting with the handcuffs. You picked up a book that was in the back of the car.

“Whoever is reading this shit is hornyyy.” You snickered, realizing that it was a smut. Tangerine snapped his eyes back and took the book.

“It ain’t for kids. It’s a good book.” He said, almost like a child himself.

Lemon snickered as well “And she’s got powers, how would she not be useful?”

“True. How do you think I got that bobby-pin from the floor? Can’t really bend down with handcuffs.” You held the handcuffs up.

Tangerine groaned in annoyance “You’re such a pain in my ass and we’ve barely known each other for five minutes.”

“That’s what I do.” You said, smirking as he drove off to a hotel for the night.

——————————————————————

That was 3 years ago, now you were fighting with them, at a different agency.

They would always say how your their “annoying little sister”

(Tangerine added the annoying part)

“Oooo, it’s so nice over here.” You laughed, looking at the shops all around the place, the neon lights and nice people. You guys were currently in Japan, going to do a mission on a train.

Lemon smiled as well, also looking around while Tangerine stayed focused.

“Focus.” He mumbled under his breath, pulling you two closer to him so that you didn’t go off path.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Lemon said.

“He always wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.” You giggled and lemon snickered quietly, tangerine giving him a glare.

“Sorry, mate.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, he could already tell this mission would be annoying with you two.