#tangerine drabble

[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?

[whosjunglejim4322]

Home, at last - Tangerine

Warnings: mentions of BLOOD & ANGST And tooth rotting FLUFF because (canonically he is a loverboy TO ME and it is important to ME), mentions of murder, because well yeah...uhm anyways, Tan doesn't know you know but you know. You know?, Lemon is in deep shit (he just doesn't know it yet), domesticity bc once again (it is important to MEEEE)

He's the only one other than yourself that has a key. It doesn't frighten you when you hear the jingling in the doorknob, or the rough, slow scuff of boots against your creaking apartment floor. You've grown accustomed to the rhythm. Of his footsteps, of the heat of his body when he crawls into bed.

You don't ask questions.Tangerine has proven to be a friend, a provider, a committed lover. If and when he can. It's all you've ever asked of him. And all he's asked of you is to welcome him with warm, comforting arms when it's late and he needs a place to get proper rest that doesn't leave him waking up with a paranoia that he might get got. You know?

In the two years that you've had this arrangement, he's been a perfect gentleman. He never comes in your home bloodied or battered, save for the occasional bruising or stitch. Usually well beyond healed, or close to it. Never wakes you up intentionally. Makes sure to kiss you goodbye in the morning if he has to leave early.

From this, a routine has been born.

Keys clink behind your door, the knob being gripped with heavy hands and then turned before the door creaks open. A shuffle of sorts, his boots coming off with the roughness of his heel prying the other shoe off instead of just untying the laces.

You're roused from your sleep, limbs buzzing as you stretch your fatigued muscles. You sit up, tired eyes adjusting to the dark. You're hazy from sleep. You expect him to come in at any moment, to lazily push the door open and begin stripping his clothes that he then folds and places on the nightstand next to his assigned spot on the bed.

Why do you take your shoes off like that but fold your clothes when you take them off? Makes no sense.

He's heard it so many times that while the first syllable is rolling off of your tongue, he knows what you're going to say.

But the moment doesn't come. The silence is all you hear, and for a moment you wonder if you've been missing him so much that you've fully hallucinated his arrival. God.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing away the bleary feeling and the spots that cloud your vision from staring into the dark for too long. The covers are suddenly too heavy and your throat aches with the need for hydration.

It takes genuine effort to pull yourself out of bed still. You grab your phone from the nightstand on your side, 2:00 AM.

Your fuzzy slippers scuff against the floor as you walk towards the door, you've still never learned to pick your feet all the way up. The small hallway smells of the caramel wax melts you had burning in your kitchen just before you went to bed, and lingers as you round the corridor.

"Fuck!"

It's whispered to yourself in a moment of panic, not anticipating the hulking silhouette on your old sofa, splayed out with one leg perched on the back and the other dangling off of the side. Your hands are clutched to your collarbones, more specifically to your metaphorical pearls.

It's him, of course. No mistaking it. But he's not snoring obnoxiously, and his head lifts just enough for you to see messy curls bounce against his forehead in the pale light of the moon that streams from your balcony windows.

"You scared the shit out of me," you're still whispering. For whatever reason. "why are you in here? Come to bed."

As you get closer, the scent of dirt and the unmistakable twinge of blood clouds the caramel wax melts. That concerns you. The scent shouldn't be that strong. And Tang would never come here if he were that badly hurt. Wouldn't want to worry you. Right?

"M'sorry. Didn't know know where else to go."

Your heart sinks to the depths of your stomach. His voice sounds hoarse, forlorn. You're moving towards him within the blink of his blackened eyelids, throwing yourself on your knees and finally sobering to the reality of the scene before you.

"Oh my god, you're hurt."

He chuckles sorely, and the shaking of your hands intensifies.

"Just got the taste beat out of my mouth darlin', that's all. No open wounds."

You reach towards the coffee table to turn the quaint old lamp on. You love antiques, must be why you keep me around. He'd say.

"Oh, how relieving Tan, Fuck."

He wasn't lying. He's more battered than you've ever seen him, pale skin colored purple and blue with splotches of crimson across his face and knuckles and forearms and - if there's no open wounds this must not be his blood.

The look in your eyes causes his ribs to ache more than they already are, like he's being kicked with someone's fucking steel toes all over again. You're scared. And he's not sure if it's for him or because of him.

In his right mind, he wouldn't have let you see him like this. But he's never in his right mind when it comes to you. Not ever.

"I'm gonna get the first aid kit. I don't know what else to do. Obviously you should go to the hospital but no, why would you do that? That's what any sane person would do-" you rise from your kneeled position, rambling like a mad woman. You're distressed beyond belief, taking a sharp breath in of surprise when he grasps your wrist. It doesn't keep you from getting up like he thought, and you slip through his fingertips.

"I mean what the fuck is this? You're hurt. You're hurt bad." You're angry now, tripping on your way to the kitchen, loudly rummaging underneath the kitchen sink.

"I'm sorry love, ah shit, I really am-" he sits up, clutching his abdomen.

"I don't need you to be sorry," you're running back with the kit, unzipping the pack and throwing supplies on the table with as much grace as a circus clown. "I just need you to be okay."

Your trembling hands attempt to unscrew the antiseptic, but the sudden tears streaming from your eyes blur your vision. You wipe them away viciously with the back of your hand, over and over till your face stings.

"Hey, hey." He's firm in his tone.

Two calloused palms blanket the top of your knuckles. It's a silent reminder that he's here. He's whole. He's home. You look up at him and it genuinely takes your breath away. Like the bruises and scrapes aren't even there anymore. Like the smoke has been whisked away from your vision.

Crystalline irises, plush pink lips, a mustache that desperately needs to be trimmed. You're in awe, and the feeling never really goes away. You rise from your kneeled position, climbing beside him with the antiseptic and handful of cotton rounds clutched to your chest like a vice.

You calm yourself, examining his face. It feels obscene, forbidden to see him like this. It's like a sucker punch to the gut. You're a little bewildered at the fact that he's still one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen.

He rests his back against the couch, officially surrendering. You push his wild tufts of hair back, and as your nails scrape his scalp his head lulls with the movement. Your hands are a prophecy, and he is being fulfilled in earnest like this. Silence drowns the space between you two while your tears dry. It's welcoming. He drifts in and out of consciousness as you dab and wipe at his face.

You're taking care of him like he's the most precious thing that exists. It's an encapsulation of affection and tenderness, one he's never known in his life. Not from a mother, nor a lover for that matter. A couple years ago, the thought would make him sick. Letting anyone that close? That would be suicide. But with you it is wholeheartedly redemption. His eyelids flutter open and closed, open and closed, dark lashes kissing his cheekbones.

Ten, twenty, thirty cotton rounds. He's lost count, and the heap of them soaked in alcohol and blood on the floor is unguessable.

"Here. Take it."

"Hmm? Oh, thank you."

He throws back the four Tylenol and gulps down the glass of water, sighing in relief at the welcome of hydration and the erasure of copper in his mouth. He attempts to wipe the stray droplets from his mouth and chin, but your soft hands clap his thick wrists and place them in your lap. He keeps them there.

And before he can blink again, your warm lips touch his.

Over and over, gently, serenely.

Slowly you move from his cupids bow to the high arches of his now blemished cheeks, his forehead, between his relaxed brows. If a human body could melt from touch, he'd be a puddle of the goopiest, grossest most lovesick flesh known to man. Maybe the only one known to man. He hasn't checked the stats on spontaneous combustion as of late.

"If the other guy isn't dead already, I'll kill him myself."

Inhale once. Exhale once. Or is it inhale twice, exhale three times? He's forgotten how to breathe. Ringing fills his ears and only dissipates when the thundering of his heart becomes so loud that's the only thing he can hear.

"Sorry, come again?"

It doesn't even sound like him, and maybe under different circumstances you'd even chuckle and tease him about it. His voice breaks and everything.

Blue irises become obsidian in shock. Jaw slack as he stares at you. Your fingers begin undoing his dirty dress shirt, starting underneath the two that are already undone. You can already see the blossoms of blue and purple the more his skin is revealed, and your stomach turns uncomfortably.

"Throwing this in the whites basket." You say, as if he's even remotely concerned with why you're stripping him out of his clothing. He watches with a sort of wonder, a curiosity as to how this conversation is going to go. A fear twists deep in his gut, like a jagged blade. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows, and he realizes that he's scared.

This feeling he's struck with, is actual fear.

"Last year. That trip to Sydney you took with Lemon." You're down to the last few buttons, offering the beginnings of an explanation so he can stop staring at you like you've just killed his puppy.

"He sent the confirmation photo to the wrong person. Me. You were uh...behind the uhm...the guy. On the floor. Your lower half was behind him, anyways."

You pull the garment off of his broad shoulders, and luckily it's already untucked so it's easy to pull it off of his body with the way he's sitting. You toss it behind you, intending to worry about it at a later time. You're not sure if he's even breathing anymore. The rise and fall of his chest has lessened exponentially.

He's deathly still.

"Grandpa was in Special Forces. When I was a kid, my cousins and I would ask him how many people he'd killed. Of course we were too young to know how extremely fucking inappropriate it was to ask a veteran about the people he'd shot."

You smile at the memory, only because of the irony. This specific moment in time, under these circumstances. Your fingertips graze over the valleys of muscle, the ridges of tendon underneath his skin. It's hard not to get distracted.

"I don't think you're innocent. But I...I don't think the people you're killing are entirely innocent, either, you know? I mean, if you're an assassin, it's not your job to go after the good guys."

You finally look up to meet his eyes. You're not sure what you expected. A deer in headlights, a moth to a flame, a lamb in the lions den. Maybe all of them combined. A reverence washes over him like cool water, and the air between you two is as still as steady water.

"Are y'gonna leave me?"

It's the first thing he says. And it doesn't come from a conscious part of himself. If he were in any rational state of mind he'd be yelling, screaming, maybe not at you but at the mere thought of his brother fucking up that badly, not only risking his career but...but you? You. No no that's too much to bear. It doesn't even seem like it should exist in his realm of thoughts, or reality at all. It's excrutiating.

So yes, the first words out of his mouth are uttered with the voice of someone Tangerine hasn't been in a very long time. Someone who's vulnerable. Someone who actually has something to lose. Someone who can't fathom the thought of being abandoned, but more so, being without your presence in his life.

And just like the angel you are, you cup his face in your hands. Delicately, as if you're not holding a killer in your hands.

"No, silly. I think if I was going to do that I’d have done it already.” You push the sweat dampened curls from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. He looks so incredibly vulnerable. Somewhat innocent in the unintentional pout of his bottom lip.

The blood has finally returned to his face, to his limbs. It's like he's a tin man slowly being oiled in all the right places until he can move and function correctly, normally. A small part of him is still waiting for you to run away.

His world isn’t sweet. It isn’t soft. It isn’t kind or understanding. So this is all sort of perplexing for him, accepting that you’re here, still.

You stay right where you are, and his hands reach out feverishly to pull you closer, closer, closer. You're spreading your thighs and stretching your legs so that he can seat you on his lap - big, strong arms holding you like he's never received affection before. Or been able to give it at all, for that matter.

"You knew. All this time? Un'fuckin believable."

You lean in to kiss him once again, but he meets you halfway - consumed within the feeling of your love, your tenderness.

He stares up at you with stars in his eyes, breathless to the full extent.

He has never had a real home. But he's realized, on this thrifted sofa in a room that smells like you and caramels, that he's found it in his arms.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Since requests are open again, can I ask for the tan coming home and finds reader in the bath fic please? To this, if I may add that reader slightly hides her moans with her hand because she's shy with how she thinks she sounds and he just gently takes her hand in his to hear her? 🫠🫠 💺 anon

hii!! love it sm omg! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

forgive and forget

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 591

warnings: 18+ sexually explicit content mndi

✧.┊MASTERLIST

When Tangerine would return home late at night, he'd often find you in the bath as you wound down for bedtime, and today was no different.

"Hey," you call out, hearing the front door open and close. "I'm in the bath."

"You are?" Tangerine asks, his tone singsongy as he rushes up the stairs. "Fuck me—" 

He pauses in the doorframe, ogling you in the water, staring at the bubbles along your chest. "Such a fuckin' tease," he adds, watching your knee bend almost seductively. "Looks like I'm back on time tonight," he husks, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he kneels beside the bathtub. 

"No," you say indifferently, shaking your head once. "You were late. Your dinner's in the microwave." 

"Lemme make it up to you," he softly smiles, dipping his hand into the water, running his palm up your thigh. "Please, let me make it up to you," he whispers, bruising your lips with a harsh kiss. "Please?"

Even though you pretended to be mad, watching him plead to touch you did massive things for your ego. Your hunky, beautiful boyfriend on his knees, practically begging- obscene. You wanted to play along with your charade a little longer, but the way he caressed you made you question your strength. 

His lids hang low as he snakes his spare hand behind your neck, pulling you back for another kiss. "Sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips, using that same tone that always gets you. "I'm sorry for being late... I'll make it up to you."

His submerged hand trails higher, lining the crease between your inner thigh and pussy. He notices your stern expression soften, watching your face as you slowly melt and move into his touch.

"Forgivin' me, yet?"

"Shut up," you mumble, guiding and directing his hand to where you need him. 

His middle finger brushes up and through your folds, acting almost instinctively as he reaches your clit, hovering over the nub with a daring smile slapped on his face. "Say you forgive me," he prompts, his lips lingering over your cheek. "Say it... say you forgive me."

"No," 

"Go on," 

"No,"

"Say it..."

"I forgive you," you mutter, your words falling from your lips in an incoherent desperate blabber. 

"Attagirl," he whispers back, kissing a trail up your throat as he rubs slow, small circles over your sensitive mound. 

You grip at his forearm, your nails digging into the swole when you feel him add slight pressure to your clit. 

He just looked so deliciously good like this. Curly strands of hair falling from his slick back-do, framing his face so perfectly as he powers over you, caging you in the tub. One large hand behind your neck, the other strumming your cunt to the prettiest tune.

"So beautiful," he praises, rubbing you a little faster, working you up in the way he knew you loved. "So so beautiful."

His face is mere inches away from yours, his gaze boring into yours, intensely watching the lust cloud your eyes. 

You pull an arm out from under the water, shaking off the suds to place the inside over your face, burying your mouth in your inner elbow to muffle your progressively loud whimpers. 

He instantly notices how you hid your pretty sounds, so he slips his free hand into yours, pulling it away and holding it beside your head. 

"I wanna hear you," he murmurs, barely above a whisper. "I love your noises." He adds, circling your clit just that bit harder to push you over the edge.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

tan taglist: @tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @like-a-fine-skylark @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @astermath @dynamitehacke @boldlyimportantface @charmedkim @fruitlovertangerine @psiiconic @bubblezuku @sporadiccherryblossom @landryslove @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor

[queers-gambit]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYcSyRsv/

frothing at the mouth, pls tell me this isn’t giving TAN

not what i thought it was going to be, but once the words, you know, like, registered - JFC - my heart actually hiccuped. that's actually kinda... hot? is it hot? it's hot.

it's the hot headcannon i didn't know i needed! how dare you be so RIGHT yet so LOUD but also, how dare you send me this while i have PMS - reminding me of how horny i am!?

yet your mind? chef's kiss.

couple thoughts -

okay, so, at first, it's slow and languid; akin to two teenagers first kissing - all timid, shy, insecure. it's because Tan knows he can't just jump your bones, so, he goes at a snail's pace to give you plenty of time to adjust; also providing ample space to change your mind, if you wanted. when he feels you start to retreat into panic, he pulls back and reaches for his gun snug in his shoulder holster, his brows crinkled before presenting the weapon on a flat palm. he'd tell you the "type" of gun, prove it was loaded, then discard the "bullet in the chamber", snap the magazine back into place, and finally, show where the safety was and how to turn it on / of.

when you question him, he's explains that he knows how you can sometimes feel panicked, overwhelmed, scared, fearful, and / or uncomfortable because of your past. he never wanted nor intended to trigger you. it was a sensitive subject, but after dating close to a year, you had decided to fully give yourself to Tangerine in a sign of faith, love, and trust. hence why you were laying on a mattress covered by a goose feather duvet, Tangerine on top, you flat on your back, ready to engage foreplay.

"here," he whispered, "take it, doll, gotta hold it. there's a good girl - yeah, just hold it - good, feel the weight... see that? it's loaded, princess, and loaded guns are about a pound heavier in hand. all right, good. now, look, see, you're gonna hold it like this, this finger - yeah, yep, good, goes here."

"why're you doing this?"

"because you say it's the lack of control that often scares you, yeah?" he waited until you nodded meekly. "so, here, even the odds - anyone tries to overpower you, now you're protected. if holding a gun to my head is what it takes for you to feel safe? for me to get a taste? fucking fine, princess, you hold that fuckin' gun," he all but growled, your body relaxing unconsciously, "right at me fuckin' head, but don't mind me," his fingers curled around the waistband of your cotton shorts and panties, you lifted your hips to aid him in freeing your bottom half. "i'm just gonna take a quick peak, maybe get a li'l sample..."

so, first time, it's missionary. gun's at his chest or ribs. which morphed into you on top, riding him, arm extended to hold the barrel right between his heavy-lidded eyes or under his jaw. you even tangled one hand in his ringlets, gun at his temple while sharing several long, wet kisses.

or maybe it's like, you and Tan are in some kind of argument. it's a fucking whirlwind, a tornado of aggression and frustration and confusion; yelling insults and verbally punching below the belt.

so, what it boils down to is what i think Reddit calls "a dead bedroom". it feels like the romance had expired, like you two were just roommates since you only fucked him like a chore on your to-do list because you're both just busy with work. this is the fight that brings out the ugly; where fears, assumptions, and anxieties are aired out and confronted.

"i can't read your fuckin' mind!" he snarls.

"give me the chance to explain. all right? okay? let me tell you somethings - things you might not know that will help make sense of this situation."

Tan was still coming off his adrenaline high, snarky and a little unreasonable - but he listened as you relaid to him past traumas and what you had been triggered by. he began to feel violently guilty for picking this fight, but in-love or not, Tan's still an asshole.

so, he literally sets his gun down and kicks it across the glistening hardwood floor; trapping the weapon with your foot. "there - is that it? huh? that what you want?" Tan snarls, sounding hateful and distraught, unsure how to prove himself and erase all those putrid memories that still hurt you.

so he did the only thing he knew and gave you his gun. it was a symbolic gesture of his safety and commitment that you accepted. "there! see? is this gonna get you there?" he asked. "if it means i get to have you the way i want - i'm all for you holding that fuckin' gun to me fuckin' head. yeah? all right? just don't fuck with the safety - "

"it's loaded!?"

so, after emptying the clip and chamber, simply resetting the spring and triggers (sure to discharge the one in the chamber), you dove head first into the abyss that is ✨Tangerine✨.

that night, Tan slows down. see, it makes sense that after a fight, you guys might hate fuck, but after this particular fight, Tan's sitting up in bed, his bulging arms around your waist, and you're riding him like you placed a bet at the Kentucky Derby before competing in the fucking race yourself!

yeehaw, ammirite? all my love 🖤

[fragileruns]

oops hehe sorry i got super excited i forgot to give a plot line!!! as for plot, could we get smthing where reader is the complete opposite of tangerine (shy, timid sweetheart) and yet he’s still so drawn to her so he starts to routinely visit the place she works at (book shop, cafe, wtvr u want) and she has a bf who’s not the best to her n takes advantage of her kindness and trust, so tangerine helps her n talks her thru standing up for herself and even teaches her self defense just in case. tan starts to fall for her more n more and sees her as smthing precious, and reader is so captivated by this sexy intelligent man. n then one day tan is chilling at the cafe drinking coffee and reading (basically guarding her bc he’s protective hehe) bc she decided she was gnna break up w her bf and then when said bf comes in and she tries to end things, he starts getting aggressive and causing a scene so then our sexy tan just steps in all casually and shuts him down real fast and then that’s when reader’s heart skips a beat bc she realizes she likes tan (and tan may actually like her too) and so tan kicks ex’s ass to the curb and then checks on reader and calls her his “little badass” since she used her self defense on her ex when he tried getting handsy with her.

basically just some cuteeeeee fluff with some witty banter and unrequited love at the beginning but watching it grow into smthing more <3 thank again love

hi! sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted but i didn’t feel patient enough to make it into a long fic, and i didn’t want to trigger anyone by adding actual abuse in here so i switched it a bit! let me know if you want something redone but hopefully it’s still good

tangerine x reader. content warnings: mentions of violent tones & the guy pushes tan but that’s it, cussing, female!reader, i didn’t realize how off i had written this until it was almost done so i’m sorry please rerequest if you’d like me to retry!

Tangerine was currently sitting in his usual seat, one right to the side of the counter you were working at. It granted him the best possible view (you) as he drank small sips out of this coffee cup, ‘reading’ the book in front him. Really, he was much more focused on watching you work.

He had been here for well over two hours and usually, he would have forced himself to leave by now. There was only so long he could stay without causing suspicion. Even when it was you - poor, oblivious you who couldn’t seem to realize that the only reason he ever came in was to see you.

However, after finding out about your asshole of a boyfriend from eavesdropping on your conversation (you were standing right beside him on your break, and how was he meant to ignore the insults being thrown at you when they were so blatantly untrue?), he had decided to make a bold step and tell you that you needed to stand up for yourself. Ever since then, you seemed to continuously have new questions about how to go about it since.

You opened up to him once, just a few days ago, about how you wanted to leave your boyfriend, how you were tired of feeling torn apart everyday, but you were scared. He had never been directly violent to you, but he was a strong guy, and you weren’t sure how he would take it. You didn’t want to become a victim. So, Tangerine had quickly suggested doing it in a public place where there were more people around to make sure you were alright. When you still didn’t seem sure, he asked if it’d help if he was there. You said yes.

So, he was spending the day at the cafe, the both of you waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the doors. You were nervously glancing up everytime the bell rang, and Tangerine desperately wanted to rub soothing shapes onto your back and tell you it would be alright. But, sadly, it wasn’t his place to do so.

After another few minutes of rereading the same sentence, the man Tangerine recognized from the last time he saw him in the shop with you walked in. He seemed in a fairly okay mood, or at least, he showed no outward signs of being upset.

Tangerine was instantly more alert, noticing the way you sucked in a breath and told your coworker that you’d be going on break, and he watched both you and the man as discreetly as he could. He could vaguely hear the conversation going on, and nothing seemed wrong at first.

You had given the man what seemed like a sympathetic smile, and from the way you were moving your hands around while you spoke, and from the way the man’s expression shifted to one of anger, Tangerine could assume you had told him it was over. He didn’t move though, smart enough to know that going to be by your side wouldn’t help matters any, not until he saw your now ex-boyfriend’s eyes flash with something ugly, hand raising.

That was when he jumped up. Reasonably, he didn’t think the guy would do anything even slightly violent in such a public space, but he didn’t want to take the risk. He wedged himself in the space between the two of you, his back facing you as he reached a hand back to grab onto your arm.

“You alright, love?” He asked, head tilted slightly back to look at you as you nodded, though he could feel how tense you were.

“Who the hell are you?”

Tangerine finally turned to acknowledge the man in front of him at the question, and his face hardened from the soft expression he had with you.

“None of your business. You should really get away from ‘er, if you know what’s best.” You were still hiding behind him, eyes filling with concern as your boyfriend only got more angry.

“She’s my girlfriend. Our conversation doesn’t concern you.”

“Ex. Ex-girlfriend.” You finally spoke up, your voice still soft and timid despite the spite that your words held. Tangerine felt proud, and he squeezed your arm to show as much.

“See? The lady doesn’t seem to want you here, so why’re you still hanging around? Go on.”

“Stay out of this.” The man was only getting more riled up, nose flaring and stepping closer to Tangerine. Clearly, he didn’t know who he was talking to. The thought made Tan smirk slightly, but it made you (who vaguely knew of Tangerine’s strength and abilities from the stories he had told you, though he still changed them as much as he could as to not scare you off) shake in place.

As soon as your ex boyfriend tried to push Tangerine out from in front of you, failing at even making him budge, you reached out to grab your friend’s arm. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, and you didn’t want to cause a scene - or more of a scene - in your place of work. Luckily, the few customers that were there had mostly filed out onto the street and your co-worker only stood close by enough that she could break it apart if anything should happen.

“Tan, it’s okay. I can handle this,” you spoke in your sickly sweet voice, and that and the feeling of your tender grip on his arm was the only thing holding him back from throwing the man against the nearest wall.

“Can you just - please go? I’m not going to change my mind, and it’s not going to be good for either of us if you stick around. So just go. Please?” Your attention turned to the other man, less kindness in your eyes now, and he only scoffed with an eye roll.

“Whatever. You’re not worth this shit anyway.”

What an idiot. Tangerine thought as the man walked out, and he only calmed down once he was out of sight and he could turn to you.

“I was handling it, y’know. You didn’t have to come in all… you-like. I would’ve been okay,” you sighed and Tangerine would’ve thought you were upset with him if it wasn’t for the concern in your eyes and the fact that you were still holding onto his arm. He made sure not to draw attention to that, not wanting to risk you pulling away.

“You think I was going to even slightly risk him hurting you?” Tangerine questioned as if you were insane, using one hand to reach up and brush a stray hair out of your face, needing any excuse to touch you. “Are you okay? D’you want me to take you home or anything? I’m sure if you explain, they’ll let you clock out.” He threw a glance over to your co-worker, who was kindly pretending not to notice the almost disgusting lovefest that was going on between you two (not that either of you could really view it that way, since you had just become single.)

“Um - actually, yes. Please. I don’t want him to come back after you leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, but of course. Get your stuff, I’ll wait outside.” He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulder right before you walked off as he gathered his own things, and went to stand outside by his own car as he waited for you.

Once you come out, he turned to face you, frowning at the expression on your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just - thank you. For intervening. I know I said I could handle it, but thanks anyway. You’re a good friend.”

“I’ll always protect you, love. You’re my favorite girl,” He grinned and stepped forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, reaching down to grab your bag and throw it over his shoulder.

“I’ve just never really had someone on my side like that, and it felt nice.” You admitted, appreciative that he chose to ignore the flush of your cheeks after his innocent kiss.

“Well, now you do. And, since we’re being honest here, I really wish you would stop telling me what a great friend I am.”

“What? Is that - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you rushed to apologize, even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You were friends, right?

“No, don’t - I didn’t mean it for you to apologize. I mean, I like you. I thought that was obvious?” Tangerine seemed genuinely confused, as if everyone knew this fact, but you were almost jaw-dropped.

“It - uh, it wasn’t. You like me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, choosing to open up the passenger door and gently set your bag in the floorboard to hide away from the rejection he was about to face. He was such a confident man, yet was reduced to nerves just by being around you. “Sorry, I just thought you knew. I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know,” you say quietly, looking like you were off in another world as you thought over things. Was that connection you felt with him shared this whole time? Did the way your stomach fluttered around him mean you liked him, too?

“Do you still want me to give you a ride home? I can call you a taxi, if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“No, no - I’m sorry, I-” you shake your head quickly at his offer, reaching out to grab his arm and then dropping it like it’s burned you. “I think I like you, too.”

He grinned, then, and his head tilted slightly. “Think?”

“Yeah, I mean - I don’t think I want to be with anyone right now, seeing as I did just get out of a relationship with-”

“The most vile man alive?”

“A not great person.” You finished, and Tangerine only chuckled. “But, I do like you. And maybe, if you’re willing to wait a little while, we could… you know. Be more than friends.”

Tangerine looked down right merry, and when his hand reached up to cup one side of your face, you leaned into the warmth almost embarrassingly fast.

“I would love to be more than friends with you. But, by the way. We’re going to have to talk about you having more of a back bone. Like - all those please go’s to him? Babe, I know how much of a fucking badass you are, you should’ve kneed him in the sack.”

“Maybe next time.”

[ddejavvu]

i just read your fairy!reader and hotch fic and i couldn’t stop thinking about it bc the way you write is absolutely enchanting, so i’ve got to request: a fairy!reader x tangerine story?? potentially along the lines of him finding her after a job (maybe the person he killed had been keeping her captive) and she starts helping him on jobs or cleans him up after them and it gets super fluffy and cute?

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

There's a bleeding man panting a foot from your cage. He's staring down at your captor, or- your former captor now, the man's body lifeless as blood oozes from the cuts he'd obtained. There's another beside him, shorter, darker-skinned, and the crowbar he'd plucked off of the workbench to whack your captor with is still hanging from his limp grip.

"So that's it, then?" The shorter one glances up at the taller, and the taller man shrugs, "'Guess so. No one else we need to take care of?"

"Just the one," The shorter one assures him, and your heart races as you realize they're not going to see you, you have to make yourself known.

"Excuse me!" You shout, hoping your voice will be loud enough to carry over their heavy breathing. It works, they hear you, and both flinch violently as they turn and frantically scan for whatever noise they'd just heard.

"The fuck-" The taller man hisses, eyes wild and dangerous, "Who's there?"

"Tangerine," The shorter one spots you, eyes widening then narrowing in disbelief as he elbows his friend, pointing at you, "Look."

"What- What the fuck?" The taller man - Tangerine...? - finally sees you, flinching away and watching as your wings flutter aimlessly behind you, "Are you- what are you?"

"I'm a fairy," You gush, helpless and scared, "And- and that man was keeping me here, locked up." You point at your captor's dead body, "The keys are in his pocket, please- please help me, I- I'll starve if you don't! I promise I won't tell anyone I saw you, just- just please help."

Your eyes are brimming with miniscule, crystalline tears when you finish your please, and the shorter one bends slowly at the knees, keeping his eyes on you as he feels around the the keys.

"Yeah," He breathes, "Uh, yeah, we'll get you out. Tan," He can't stop staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he blindly shoves the keys at Tangerine, "You do it."

"Oh fuck me," Tangerine murmurs, "'Always has to be me, huh? Right, uh, fairy-"

"Y/N," You inform warily, hands wrapped around the bars of your cage, "I won't hurt you, I promise. Please let me out."

"Yeah, I've gotcha," Tangerine mumbles, squinting at the keyhole to your cage. The sound of the lock clicking is like music to your ears, and when the door swings open you can't help but lunge for Tangerine.

He lets out a scream so high-pitched that his friend honestly thinks it came from you for a moment, but you latch onto Tangerine's cheek, arms wrapped over his nose and around the back of his head to hug him for letting you go.

"Thank you," You gush just beside his ear, voice soft so that you don't deafen him. He relaxes when he realizes you're just hugging him, muscles slowly loosening where they'd been tight and stiff.

"Yeah," He breathes, mustache prickling against the skin of your leg, "Yeah, uh- fuck, okay, what are we gonna do with you?"

"Open the door," The man on the floor suggests, and Tangerine looks down at him bewildered.

"We can't just open the door, Lemon. What, so she can flutter out there and get hit by a semi-truck? I'm pretty sure fairies aren't supposed to live in the fucking city!"

There's a gruff rasp to Tangerine's voice at the end of his sentence, one that's accompanied by his eyes practically bulging out of his head as his neck tenses. You flutter down to his chest pocket, perching yourself on the hem of the fabric there and resting a hand on his stiff neck. He brings his chin to his chest in a quick flinch, but realizes you're trying to soothe him, and sends you a polite, but apprehensive smile.

"Okay! Okay, so what, then?" Lemon snaps, straightening up from where he'd been kneeling beside your captor's body, "You're just gonna take 'er home? Tuck her into your pocket? Feed her little crumbs of biscuit for breakfast, huh?"

A resolute frown etches its way over Tangerine's features, and you have a sneaking suspicion he's only agreeing to spite Lemon, "Yes. I am, for your information."

He glances down at you, stuffing a finger into his breast pocket and holding it open for you, "There y'go, love. Slide right in there, 'n you can come home with me 'till we get you back to wherever you came from."

"Thank you," You breathe, rushing to shimmy into Tangerine's breast pocket. It's warm there, it's nice, and it smells like him. You're a bit disappointed that he doesn't smell like oranges, but his scent is nice otherwise.

"You're insane," Lemon huffs, eyeing your contented expression as you settle in Tangerine's pocket, "You're gonna get investigated by the government or something. That's some Area 51 shit right there, Tan."

"The government is already looking for us," Tangerine scoffs, "A bunch of them are. This can't hurt."

"Can't hurt. Can't hurt!" Lemon throws his hands up, letting the crowbar clank to the ground after he hits his thigh, "That's what you always say. And every time, it fuckin' hurts!"

"Don't listen to 'im," Tangerine looks down at you, murmuring so that Lemon can continue on his rage-fueled tirade without interruption. Tangerine's face is much kinder when he looks at you than when he looks at Lemon, and you feel his soft features coaxing a smile out of your own, "You'll be nice and safe with me, love, I'll make sure of it."

[suugrpop]

I'LL MEET YOU THERE | chapter 2

Previous chapter

Pairing: Tangerine x assassin female reader

Summary: After meeting Tangerine, both of you sit down and talk about the past.

Warnings: none, I think 🤔

Author's note: Here's another chapter! I know I've been MIA lately but I'm back! I can finally rest now (That means more fics, yay!😊). This is short, I know ( I ran out of ideas ugh).

Taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak @beebslebobs @starmansirius @novagreen04

~

The ride was long. Very long. You hadn't opened your mouth since the trip started. From what you remember, Tangerine's hotel room shouldn't be far away, he hated waiting for a car to pick him up and a long ride. But this was taking ages.

"What do you want from me?" You decided to break the ice

"Just to talk, love. I know this past few months have been hard for the both of us, and I want to make things right"

"You broke up with me because of my job. You're selfish, Tangerine"

"I know I am, love. But this is the best for the both of us. I wanted you to join me so we could be together. You said no to that."

" I said no because of my boss. You know how angry he gets. He's alone in this, and I'm one of the best female assassin,so"

"We're here" The car suddenly stops. Before you know it, you're sitting in Tangerine's bed. He grabs a drink and lights a cigarette.

"You haven't changed at all,too" You say. He looks back at you, your eyes meeting. He had a sweet look on his face.

"Yeah, that's me, love. I'm still the same selfish man" You wanted to stay. You still miss him, you're not going to deny it.

"I'm going to sleep" You said. You layed in his bed.

The next morning, he woke you up with breakfast. You ate and he told you to get ready because you were going on a date. You enter the bathroom to take a shower, and a black dress was hanging on the wall. You did your makeup, and wore your wig, so no one could recognize you. You check your phone, and you had a lot of missed calls from your boss.

Tangerine and you spent the day going out and eating a lot. It reminded you of the days when you were dating.

"Love" He said, holding both of your hands. He took a deep breath.

"Give me another chance. For us. I want to be with you again." You were thinking of your boss, but you weren't happy. And you wanted to be. You wanted to escape.

"Me too. I was thinking about it, and I wanted to tell you the same thing."

You put your hands on his face, and kiss him on the cheek. Maybe this was a good place to start a new life.

[ichorai]

apple pies & break-ins ; tangerine.

pairing ; tangerine x assassin!spouse!reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; tangerine comes back home just as you're about to leave.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; pure fluff, mild comedy, established relationship (married), assassin au

warnings / includes ; blood/injuries/weapons, slightly suggestive, tangerine has a potty mouth, lemon cameo, tangerine being clingy and sappy

main masterlist.

The entire house smelled of cinnamon, apples, and buttery pie crust. You sliced up another apple, taking care to carve out its core, before tossing it in the sugar syrup and popping the chopped pieces of fruit into the crust to bake in the oven. As soon as you bumped the door shut with your hip, the front door creaked open, followed by a familiar jangling of keys. 

You glanced up with a warm smile, glad that your husband was finally home—except it was quick to melt away when you took in his disheveled appearance. There was blood all over him, dribbling down his hairline, splattered over his neck, staining his once-pristine clothes. 

Despite his haggard state, he sent you a tired beam, his mustache twitching with the smile. 

“‘Ello, love,” he greeted, making his way to you behind the kitchen counter. “Close your mouth, darlin’, you’ll catch flies.” With a cheeky smirk, he slotted a finger beneath your chin, effectively snapping your lips shut. He mildly winced when he noticed he accidentally left a faint print of sticky blood on your jaw, but wisely decided not to tell you.

You fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Jesus, Tan. Is that your blood?”

“Not sure, honestly. It’s coming from all over—some of it’s bound to be mine. Don’t worry about me, love. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Speaking of, it smells really good in here. You bakin’ something for me, darling? I’m flattered,” he hummed, leaning forward to kiss you. 

Before he could, you ducked away from him, pushing his face to the side with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, go shower first, you’re getting blood everywhere! To be honest, I would’ve felt better knowing it was yours.”

“Ouch,” he murmured, though his grin still lingered by the corner of his mouth. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

Relenting, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “There. You happy?”

“Very. Thanks, love.” He sent you a playful wink before slinking off to the bathroom, whistling a peppy tune under his breath on the way. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself, before turning to clean up the mess of flour and sugar and apple cores you’d made on the kitchen counter.

When your husband finally slunk out of the bathroom, a thick white towel hanging low around his waist and another ruffling at his damp curls, he made his way back into the kitchen.

“Put on some clothes, Tan,” you scoffed when he pressed against you from behind, sprinkling a bit of cinnamon sugar on the apple pie you had just taken out of the oven. 

“Hm, you don’t like me like this?” he queried, verging on a whine since you weren’t paying him the least bit of attention. “Naked and at your disposal?”

Amused, you finally turned around in his arms, trapped between him and the counter. The blue of his eyes were hooded and lustful, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You, however, smiled sweetly at him. “You’re not naked.”

“Well, that can easily be remedied—”

Before he could reach down to undo the towel around his waist, you stopped him with your hands gripping both his wrists, quirking your brows. “As much as I’d love to, I have to call in for a job soon. I’m running late already. I was baking the pie for you in case you got back while I was gone.”

“Another job?” asked Tangerine, clearly upset at the turn of events. “Can’t you call off? I’m sure they can send another bloody assassin to do their dirty work.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before gently pushing him away so you could head off to your shared bedroom and get changed. To none of your surprise, your husband trailed along behind you like a sullen puppy. “It’s a lot of money, baby. Don’t think I could afford to keep skipping jobs just to laze around with you.”

With a disappointed grumble, Tangerine wrapped his arms around you from behind again, squeezing tightly and kissing down your neck. “How long will this one take?”

“I’ll be back tonight,” you reassured him. “Tomorrow at the very latest.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced, though not without a loud sigh. He sat down on the bed, watching as you shirked off your flour-covered shirt in favor of a dark button-up. “You remember how we first met?”

Of course you did. You remembered it as if it was yesterday. You crossed your arms, stepping in between his legs by the edge of the bed. Both of his hands went to your waist, fingers curling over your back and absentmindedly tracing loose shapes on your sides. 

Looking up at you, he spoke between pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, over the black shirt you had donned, “I was on a mission with Lemon in Madrid… and we were in a tight situation. Bullets flying everywhere, my leg fucked up, and my gun jammed. Then, whaddya know, the most beautiful fuckin’ person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon comes flying through one o’ the windows. Took out three people with one knife, and took out another four with a bloody crossbow. You looked at me, covered in blood, and asked if I was alright. I told you that you were fucking gorgeous—and then you fell in love with me, right on the spot, and the rest is history.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. “Hm, that’s not how I remember it. Need I remind you that I shoved you to the side because you kept getting in my way, asking if I’d like to have dinner with you? Gods, Tan, you were a pain in my ass. And your brother was laughing at you.”

“Cunt,” he grumbled at the mention of his brother. “Well, even if you didn’t fall in love with me right then and there—I did. I knew I had to be yours from the moment I saw you.”

You lowered yourself to a crouch, cupping his face and caught his lips in a feverish kiss. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his. “Are you telling me this because you want me to stay?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of Tangerine’s lips. “Is it working?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You pulled away, slinging a packed bag over your shoulder and heading out the bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Love you.”

“Wait! You said you’d come back tonight!”

True to your word, you had returned home at midnight, stumbling through the door tired and weary. Thankfully, you weren’t too banged up, just a scratch on your shoulder from the graze of a bullet that you managed to patch yourself before coming back. You were greeted with Tangerine dozing on the couch, a shitty reality show glowing on the television screen, with the half-eaten apple pie on the coffee table in front. He startled awake when you flicked his cheek with a smile.

“Hey, sleepy,” you said, dipping down to kiss his forehead, sauntering towards your bedroom to get changed.

As expected, your husband scurried off the couch to follow after you, gathering you into his arms and kissing you deeply. “I missed you,” he murmured, accent thick and lilting.

“Come on, I wanna get to sleep,” you said, tugging him to the bed with a muffled yawn.

In no time, he was curled up behind you, his large arm thrown over your waist and hand splayed out over your stomach. His nose was buried into the back of your head, unable to wipe the pleased smile off of his features.

It was relatively easy to drift to sleep, given how exhausted the two of you already were.

Not even three hours later, with the two of you already deep in slumber, there came a loud crashing from the front of the house. Someone was breaking in.

Immediately, you sat up in the bed, slipping out from beneath Tangerine’s heavy arms and the blanket. The cold air kissed your bare skin, sending a shiver spidering up your spine. You reached beneath your pillow to brandish a small emergency dagger you kept between the mattress and the headboard. Your husband also startled awake at the loud sound, eyes tired yet wide, grappling for a gun he kept beneath the bed.

“Stay in here,” he whispered, striding forward to the bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

“Like hell I am,” you quietly gruffed back, hot on his heels.

Knowing that there was no stopping you, Tangerine blew out a breath and the both of you crept closer, light on your feet. With no warning, Tan shouldered the door open and stepped out in one fluid motion, lining the gun up with the intruder.

A second later, he immediately lowered the weapon with a long string of exasperated curses. You peered over his shoulder, tense muscles loosening upon seeing Tangerine’s brother, Lemon, frozen in front of the broken window. His lips were twisted into a grimace and his eyes were as wide as saucers. There were shards of glass glimmering in his dark hair.

“What the fuck, man?” your husband erupted, immediately clicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it into the waistband of his sweats. “Are you daft? The fuck did you break my window for?”

“I was looking for you! Never heard a peep from you two after your missions. I just assumed the worst!” he exclaimed. For a moment, Lemon’s dark eyes flickered to you. “Hi, Y/N. Look lovely, by the way.”

You crossed your arms, more amused than anything. “Hey, Lemon.” 

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ call us, then? Bloody fucking idiot! Going down and breaking my window like that,” he angrily muttered, stomping forward to inspect the damage. “You’re paying for this, you twat.”

Rearing back, Lemon snarled, “Oi! I did call you! Didn’t answer your phones, the neither of you. I thought something happened! Forgive me for worrying about my brother and my in-law!”

“The fuck you mean, I would get the fucking notification if you called me!” Tangerine hissed back, pressing the heels of his palms into his sleepy eyes. After a second, he reached down into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He pressed the power button once, then twice. A third time for good measure. “Well, fuck me. It’s dead.”

You hid a smile behind your palm. You married a complete, hot-headed idiot. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you wiggled your fingers farewell and swiftly turned, yawning as you dragged yourself back into the room. “I’m going back to bed. You two behave yourselves.”

Both of them grunted goodbyes at your departure, before immediately carrying on with their arguments.

“Why didn’t you just call Y/N?”

A long pause. Lemon's eye twitched. “Didn’t think of that, to be honest with you… What are you, a fucking halfwit? Of course I called Y/N!”

"Oh, right, yeah, Y/N does put their phone on DND before bed. Right."

"Right."

Frowning, Tangerine barked out, “Still, you’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that? I could’ve shot you!”

“Alright, alright, calm your tits. D’you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

“What, are you bloody mental?” Another pause. “Alright, fine. Just take your shoes off. Don’t want you tracking mud all over the place.”

Half an hour later, Tangerine crawled back into bed, settling himself behind you. You had fallen asleep already, but shifted with a pleasant hum when he pressed a ticklish kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Love you,” he whispered, tugging you closer to his chest. You drowsily murmured something incoherent in response, and Tangerine contentedly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[artspats]

Tangerine Orange - Patrick Zweig

2:25 for reference

You came home exhausted from work, barely having time to grab some Chinese takeout to eat at home.

Scrolling through your screen, the red dot on the phone app catching your attention and you set your chopsticks down, distracting yourself with that instead of continuing to pick at the overcooked broccoli.

Voicemail...

Who used voicemail these days?

You clicked on the panel to play the message, maybe a store you added to your contacts after they offered you a discount for being a new customer. But no—

It was him.

Patrick.

The sound of a fan whirring in the background and his hand wobbling with the phone, he cleared his throat after a blow.

His voice makes you lean forward, like it’s been that long since you’ve heard it.

Smoking, yeah he was smoking, you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the last one from the packet.

Thinking maybe he would just stay silent but

“Uh, hey baby,” his voice croaks, like he just woke up from a nap he didn’t want to take, there’s a sweetness to it somehow, like honey, just as heavy too.

Like he didn’t need a beer or two to actually dial your number.

“Um, I know I keep asking this,”

-

“Um, but I guess I just really wanna know at this point”

“You know, we've been intimate for a while;” he continues, his voice almost a whisper now, like the weight of what he’s about to say matters too much to speak too loudly. “Been crushing on each other for years…” The words linger in the air, like he’s actually waiting for you to respond.

-

“But I guess I'd just really like to know if; you feel the same way about me as I feel about you” The shift of his body, the subtle creak of the bed as he adjusts.

-

“You know all your feelings for me inside of your heart,” he laughs slightly, and god you could just picture him biting his lip with that specific smirk he does when he serves.

“Let me know, bye.”

-Press 1 to listen to the message again-

Click! Click! Click!

[crispywriter]

here's a few fics in my drafts that will probably never be completed - i loved the concepts, the ideas behind them, but i struggled to either get the juices going or couldn't fully form the plot!

there's four drabbles (last one is nsfw) included! enjoy 🍊

*~*~*

Bad Idea?

Getting on this train was a bad idea.

A very stupid, utterly mad, bad, bad, bad idea—it's so terrible, in fact, that not even the ten million dollar rumour that got you aboard this godforsaken, assassin-ridden hell-on-earth locomotive, is worth it.

In truth, you really should have known better than to take a rogue mission. You're hardly a rookie, and as if it couldn't have gotten any more obvious that something extremely fucking suspicious was going on, you'd fallen into a seat beside a guy bleeding from his eyeballs about fifteen minutes ago—icing on the cake, really—and found yourself running to an isolated seat in the back of the last (gratefully empty) carriage to hyperventilate.

"Perfect. Fucking perfect." You mutter to yourself, chewing at your fingernail and bouncing your knee in time with the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Why can't you ever let whispers just stay whispers? Why not just get off at the next stop and save yourself all this trouble? Why do anything remotely sensible at all?

You're almost too lost in your own spiralling thoughts to notice, but the familiar swagger and the arse on the man who walks past you catch your eye and your mouth opens in tandem with the drop of your heart. You speak his name before you can catch yourself, tilting half your body into the aisle and almost tipping yourself out of your seat in the process.

The last time you saw Tangerine was at the Bartok party when he fucked you over a desk and left you both extremely satisfied and deeply confused. He was soft then—he tapped your cheek and kissed you soundly, only texting you once after to tell you he'd wired over half of his earnings for those documents you were supposed to collect. As he turns to look at you now, he's unlike you've ever seen him—red in the face, spattered with blood and bruises, glistening with sweat and tension. Shit.

"You're fucking kidding me." He says, sniffing and wiping his palm across his mouth and chin, eyes fixated on you.

"What happened to you?" You ask, your voice so much softer than you mean it to be.

"Missed the train."

You frown. "You're... on the train."

"Made it back on, didn't I?" Tangerine doesn't come any closer to you, just stands there in his blue suit slowly clenching and relaxing his right hand. He's wound so tight you can see all the veins in his neck and forehead pulsing under his blood speckled skin. "What're you doing here?"

"Came for the case." You answer honestly. No point in hiding it—you knew you wouldn't be the only one.

"Shit out of luck there, love." He shakes his head, sucking his teeth. There's blood in his moustache—dried, like someone hit him a while ago and he tried to wipe it off as best he could but it's stuck in that thick thatch of hair above his lip. "Case is gone. White Death's waitin' in Kyoto. You're fucked if you stay."

Hold up. "The White Death?" Your heart kicks into overdrive and you stand up, holding a finger in the air. "The fucking White Death? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Lemon and I—we took a job, deliver his son and the money." Tangerine sniffs again. His blue eyes are bloodshot and wet, but he's fully focused as he stares down at you. His jaw flexes as you get into his space, shifting a little to rest a hand on the back of the seat closest to him. "Like I said, case is gone, the kid's dead. Bleedin' from his fucking eye sockets."

"Oh, shit, I saw him." You shake your head, chewing at the inside of your cheek. "You should get off the train, Tange. It's not worth fucking about with the White Death, you know better than that."

His fingers curl into the cushion of the seat and he exhales sharp through his nose. "Can't get off without Lemon, can I?"

You step a bit closer, gently touching your fingertips to his chest as you mean to nudge him back on his way down the length of the train, but the second you make contact with him his hand flies from the seat to curve around the back of yours. You startle slightly, flushing hot at the sudden contact. He's so high-strung, you can feel the stress radiating off him. "You look like shit." You whisper, staring up at him.

"You look beautiful." Tangerine tilts his head down so he can continue to look at you, his messy curls falling into his face as he does. "I'll hurt you."

You bite your lip and take a deep breath, drawn in to him by some unseen force that just keeps pushing you closer—daring you to test, to touch, to take. "I like a bit of pain." You say, hand sliding out from underneath his.

Your fingers are on his belt before he's even thought to move, but his hands come up to grip your face in an instant. He drags your mouth to his and kisses you hard, rings digging into your jaw as he holds tight, his blood metallic on your tongue as you open up for him.

🍊

Clotheslined

It's always by accident.

You're barreling down some skinny alleyway in the middle of Chefchaounen Morocco—the most beautiful little town you've seen yet, by the way, at least your mark had some sense to die in such a pretty tourist destination—barely grazing the soft blue walls as you attempt to outrun three extremely pissed off bodyguards, when an arm shoots out and your momentum refuses to allow any room for slowing down, so you end up flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you.

"Jeeeee—Jesus fuck!" You wheeze, clutching your middle as you attempt a ragged breath, eyes rolling back to the sky.

You wonder how one of the guards managed to outrun you with your head start—or if perhaps there were four instead of three and one's been parkouring the rooftops in order to cut you off as you wind down the narrow streets, but one glance up into the face of a very surprised looking man tells you this happened to be coincidence and also definitely not what either of you were expecting.

"Oh, shit!" The man above you curses, one large hand covering his agape mouth while the other reaches down for you. "Shit, that's completely on me, love, didn't mean that one at all. Thought you was—ah, wait, I do know you."

You squint as you take the help he offers, almost instantly recognising the moustache and pinched eyebrows as a fellow man-for-hire, Tangerine, helps you get to your feet. "What... What the hell are you even doing here?" You splutter.

There's certainly no time to make small talk. Three separate pairs of footsteps are echoing around you, getting closer by the second, and you know if you dally a moment longer you're totally fucked—but your lungs are working against you—your chest burns from both the chase and the impromptu meeting with the hard stone ground and you know you're not going anywhere, at least for the next few minutes.

"So sorry, but can you hide me?" You can hear shouting. Shit. Shit. Shit. Not good.

Tangerine studies you a moment, sucking his teeth and frowning, then he looks about, seeming to only just notice the pounding of footsteps and the shouting in between that grow louder with every passing second. "Why?" He asks slowly, "They after you?"

God, you always forget how annoying this guy is.

"Hm. Yes, yes they are." You nod, gesturing to a cut out doorway that you could absolutely stand in unnoticed if Tangerine simply stood in front of you. He's much bigger, much broader, than you are. And he looks like a tourist in his pretty beige linen shirt and brown leather jacket. It's goddamn thirty degrees out. "Just for a minute, yeah? Real quick."

You're propping yourself up in the doorway before Tangerine even answers, one arm slung over your stomach as you finally start to be able to breathe normally again. The assassin shrugs and paces toward you, casually turning his back and leaning himself up against the stone frame jutting out from the door. Just as you suspected, you're completely covered by him, hidden well enough that the three guards will hopefully run right past the two of you without a second thought, and you're actually pretty surprised he even agreed to help you if you're being honest.

"Dunno why I'm doing this." Tangerine is right on the same page as you so it seems. He turns his head to one side right as the footsteps seem to turn down the street you're hiding in. "You're trouble. I've seen the shit you do. Always fucking things up for everyone else."

Well that's offensive.

"Excuse you. It's not my fault some fucking idiot decided to point me out as I was leaving. I didn't think anyone saw me." Your jobs are always simple, the targets always just unguarded enough to make the task deceptively easy, and by the time they're dead you're already out of sight—have already disappeared into the crowd or into another building and no one's any the wiser. "And what do you mean I fuck it up for everyone? It's not my fault people can't do their goddamn jobs properly. If I get there first I get there first. Nothing more to it."

The thundering footsteps are so loud now you know they're about to pass. You suck in what air you can and remain still, one hand slipping into your bag for a knife, back pressed against the cool stone of the wall behind you. Tangerine your saving grace, looks relaxed in front of you. His shoulders dropped, head cocked slightly to one side, like he's only admiring the sight of the magical blue alleyway you're in, not stowing away a fugitive... And the guards run right past.

One... Two... Three.

"Christ." You tip your head back, close your eyes and sigh, hand withdrawing from your bag. "Thank you."

"Any time, love." The man steps away from you, scrunches his nose and lifts one hand slightly, "Actually, no, not any time. Don't even know you, do I?"

"Know me enough to insult me, apparently." You roll your eyes, dusting off your trousers from where you got slammed into the dirt.

"Why're you on the run?" He asks.

"Why'd you clothesline me?" You retort.

"Fair enough."

🍊

Unnamed Fix-It Fic

You happen upon them by accident.

Well—they just about slam into you, completely unaware of their own surroundings as they wrestle each other.

"The fuck are you doing—you bellend!" One of them is shouting.

There's a short girl standing over on the opposite side of the pair and she's also yelling, her tears making her words indecipherable—there's so much going on all at once that it's only by complete chance you see the glint of the gun between them under the neon blue and pink lights of this particular carriage.

God, you just wanted to have a nice, peaceful solo trip through to Kyoto, no jobs, no distractions, and every goddamn lunatic this side of the world seems to be aboard this bloody train.

You give an exasperated sigh and eye the two men, perceiving neither to be a particular threat to the other because honestly—they both look ridiculously confused as to why they're grappling for control of the weapon in the first place, but it's clear someone's finger is going to slip and you're not all that keen on watching one of these two stranger's get their brains blown out right in front of you—much less in front of a little girl, so you time your next move to perfection.

It's probably an equally stupid idea to curl your fist directly over the shooty end of the gun, but the sheer gall of your action has the two men freezing in place, a sudden shocked, heavy silence falling over the entire carriage... Oh. Shit, you should probably say something.

"Violence is never the right choice, boys." Wow, very profound indeed. "Someone's going to get killed and that's just... not... not okay with me, alright?"

You can't even look at the two men in the eye but you can feel their confusion coming off them in waves. Your cheeks burn with embarassment—should've just let them fucking murder each other—and you choose to look up toward the small person standing in the aisle just a ways away instead, and the look she's giving you turns your blood to ice in your veins, even makes you retract your hand from the gun.

There's something sinister in her stare that stops you from looking away, but there's a weird pull on your skin and you feel something stuck in your palm, so your attention diverts. It's a sticker—a character from Thomas the Tank Engine, labelled across the bottom as Diesel.

"Diesel..." You say softly, peeling the sticker from your hand and holding it at the tip of your pointer finger, looking back up again and immediately noticing the absence of the glaring girl.

The two men are done being speechless now and the one with half a suit on points his handgun down in the direction you assume the girl disappeared in.

"I was trying to fucking tell ya," He looks manic as he shouts at you in thick cockney, veins bulging at his temples, blood spattered across his face. Oh, fuck, he's gorgeous. "That little bitch killed Lemon, you prick. Only wanted her to pay for it."

"That girl? Killed your brother?" The other guy—American, older, more clothes on but far less expensive and covered in blood—pushes his hair from his face, shaking his head. "Not a chance. She's tiny!"

"She's the fucking Diesel!" The hot one almost roars, snatching the sticker off your finger with his free hand and shoving it into older guy's face. "They're crafty bastards, you dickhead. If you'd just listened to me—"

"You know," You interrupt, folding your arms across the chest, tone familiar as if you know what the fuck they're even actually arguing about, "I did get some bad vibes off her. Seems the manipulative type."

The two men are silent again, both staring at you. The older one looks slightly amused and the manic fella looks like he's about to tear you a new one.

"And who the fuck are you then?" Suit says, "What are you even doing in here?"

"Uh, I think I'm the person who just stopped someone accidentally getting shot." You huff, cocking your head to one side as you regard the blood-covered man. "I just wanted to see the whole sodding train, not my fault I ran into you two. Fighting like idiots."

"Ooh, harsh." The older guy winces, pressing a hand to his chest like he's been wounded by your fifth-grade slur. "I didn't even say anything."

"Clearly not since you were fighting instead of—" You throw a hand over your face, sighing as you remind yourself that you're on holiday, goddammit, be on holiday. "If we're done here, I'm going to continue exploring this lovely train and no one can stop me."

"Hold on a minute, love," Manic Man catches your arm as you push past him and the other dude, "Can't let you go wondering about alone. There's something nefarious going on on this here train, and I ain't about having some innocent civilian's blood on my hands, now am I?"

"Civilian?" You quirk a brow and look up at him, eyes darting between his blue eyes, the gash across his forehead, his weirdly attractive pornstache— "I'll have you know I'm fully capable of taking care of myself, sir. Is this because I'm a woman?"

"Well that's a little misogynistic buddy." The old guy chimes in, immediately taking your side for obviously no other reason apart from pissing this wanker off further.

"Jesus Christ." Suit releases your arm and uses the same hand to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. "You know what? I'm fucking done here. You're both doing my head in and can go fuck yourselves. How about that?"

You scoff and fully nudge past the pair, adjusting your jacket as you straighten and make storm your way down the aisle, kind of pissed because this carriage is clearly Momomon themed and it's super cute but these two wackos have completely ruined it for you.

... You still grab an abandoned plush from a seat on your way through though.

**

You just needed to pee.

Instead of finding an empty bathroom you open the door to find two men lying on the floor inside, both covered in blood, one writhing around while the other sits upright but slumped over. You wonder if it'd be possible for just one thing to go right tonight. Maybe you should just play the role of a civilian afterall? Make this whole scenario the train conductors' problem...

"You okay?" You push aside your better judgement and duck down in the doorway, ignoring the heebie-jeebies this presumably dead guy is giving you. "What happened to you?"

The man wriggling on the floor rolls his head around to look up at you, his face strained with obvious pain, hands clutched at his abdomen where most of the blood is concentrated. "He shot me."

"Who?" You gesture toward the slumped over fella with a thumb, "This guy?"

Shot guy nods, groaning as he pulls himself up to sit leaning against the wall of the small bathroom cubicle, right up next to the dead dude.

"Ooh, okay honey, watch yourself now—" You reach out toward the injured man but don't really move from your place squatting at the door, so your attempt at helping is pretty useless. "—How did you even get shut in here? You're lucky this one's dead or he might've tried to fini—"

You cut yourself off with a yelp and fall backward onto your ass as the dead guy gasps and stretches his jaw open in the longest, largest yawn you've ever seen in your life.

"Okay." You place a hand on your racing heart, eyes wide as you stare at the resurrected man. "Not dead."

He finishes his yawn and then shakes his head a little before he glances around, making eye contact with you and then with the man he shot, who looks equally as surprised as you are. "I'd ask if I was in hell, but I don't remember shooting you, darling."

With a shift of his shoulders he seems to recall that he's also in pain and winces, lifting large hands to his shirt where he pulls the buttons open. There's a smattering of glinting metal you recognise as bullet shards stuck on what you're guessing is a bulletproof vest.

"Fuck." He sighs, obviously relieved, "Fucking vest, man."

You don't really know what to do. You're just sitting there on the floor of the train wondering how you managed to catch the only ride tonight full of people with murderous intent, eyes stuck on the blood dappling the white shirt of the man before you.

He pulls said garment open wider and tugs out a pendant attached to a gold chain and pauses. You watch the relief drain from his face and in its place an expression of pure dread grows. He holds the pendant tight in hand and then looks up at you, his dark eyes penetrating your very soul. "Where's my brother?"

"Your... brother?" You blink, fretting your hands at the hem of your shirt. "I-I don't—" the intensity of the previously dead man's stare is making you extremely nervous. "May—maybe, I don't know, what's he look like?"

"Facial hair, tattoos, wears rings—" The man describes, still observing you with fierce dark eyes, but his face has softened some. Probably saw the anxiety on your face and felt bad. "—Walks around looking like he's pissed at the entire world—"

"Oh!" You stick out a hand, the tips of your fingers barely brushing at his knee. "The rude guy with the pornstache? I did see him, actually, he was fighting with this older gentleman—longer blond hair, weird—there was a girl there too, dressed in pink."

"He was with the fucking Diesel?"

"I—I don't—why does everyone keep talking about diesel?" You ask. And you're genuinely curious... Diesel fuel? Diesel engines? There was that sticker...

"Is he hurt?" The resurrected one interrupts your wondering thoughts and you bring your gaze back to him. He's leaning a little closer to you now, like he's really anticipating what you're going to say.

"Oh, no, not really. Had a few gashes on his face but nothing terrible." You say earnestly, somehow wanting to please this stranger for some unknown reason. "He could've been—I think I might have saved his life, actually. He didn't... didn't say thank you, though..." You trail off and glance down at your hands awkwardly.

"Thank Christ." He seems relieved at that, but his body stays tense. Then he seems to remember the guy bleeding from a bullet wound beside him and turns his attention there instead. "Sorry for shooting you, mate. Thought you was bad news. Should've known better there—I'm usually very good at reading people."

The injured man just waves a bloodied hand in dismissal and says something about only caring about his son's safety and you want to ask, really, really you do... but you know if you ask you'll just get involved and you're currently attempting to convince yourself that talking to these two doesn't qualify as doing just that—you're on holiday. No jobs allowed.

"Well," You grab hold of the wall beside you and haul yourself to your feet, tugging your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time. "I'm happy you two have worked things out, and that you're alive and all, but I've got to get going."

"Getting off at the next stop?" The resurrected one asks, grunting with effort as he slowly stands up too.

"Oh, yeah, we all are aren't we? Next one's Kyoto—last stop." You gesture vaguely somewhere outside the windows, smiling up at the man—he's a lot taller than you thought.

His whole face drops at that and he sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Shit. Better be gettin' on then, I reckon."

"Right, yeah." You don't know why you agree in the tone you do, like you've got shit to do too. Find another toilet, maybe.

The big tall man shuffles toward you and you step back and aside to let him out, knocking into a solid body when you do. You turn your head to apologise and see Suit standing behind you, blue eyes wide and wet and whatever apology you had forming on your tongue dies in an instant.

"Lem?" The bloodied man breathes and you duck out of the way just in time to let these two—brothers, didn't he mention before—embrace each other in the most passionate, moving way you think you've ever seen outside of a movie. "You—you fucker!"

They pound each other on the back and the overwhelming manly affection between the pair is so overwhelming you begin to feel like you're intruding, so, you turn and slip away, praying as you walk back through the train that the next toilet you come across doesn't have a not-so-dead body inside it.

**

Mission Find Another Bathroom turned out to be a raging success, a success that came crashing down all too quickly the moment you tried to leave the little room.

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" You press the tiny touch screen by the door repeatedly but the door still won't open. "You've got to be fucking kidding me with this—"

You hesitate a moment before you decide to slam your shoulder up against the door a few times and it still doesn't budge. Fuck. This day couldn't possibly get any worse, could it?

You bang a palm against the solid door, screaming out your cries for help as loud as you possibly can, but you've been up and down the train a few times now—there's next to no bloody passengers aboard anymore. It'd be a miracle if someone were to find you now—

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" The door slams open and your blond-haired, shabbily dressed miracle bursts into the bathroom, his jacket wrapped around his arm as he screams and scrambles into the tiny space.

You barely have time to throw your body out of the way, watching with wide eyes as the man pushes past and goes straight for the toilet—his frantic movements allowing you to catch a glimpse of a little scaly friend wrapped around his forearm.

Oh, so now there's a snake on board too. That's cool. Totally cool.

"What the fuck are you still doing here—"

You're halfway through the next train car over before you're slamming into the two men from earlier, bloody suit and the resurrected one. You're shuddering, trying not to picture a snake with its fangs buried in old guy's arm.

"I'm getting off at Kyoto!" You practically whine, throwing a hand out in exasperation, staring hard at manic man.

"Have you not fucking noticed there's not a single other goddamned person left on this thing?" He looks so tired. Bless him.

"You're still here—" You argue anyway, gesturing wildly back in the direction you'd just fled from, "that American too, he's here, he had a fucking snake on his arm—"

"Look, love, there's some really bad shit about to go down on this train. You're not going to want to be here when it does."

Ah, naturally. Can't ever just be a nice vacation, can it? So much for tucking away the assassin for one bloody weekend.

"What's she gonna do, Tan? She's stuck in this shit with us now—ain't no where left to run." The taller, darker one says, placing a broad hand on his brother's (?) shoulder.

"I know that, don't I? I'm trying to figure out what to fuckin' do with her." Suit sighs, tucking both hands into his trouser pockets.

You huff. "Do I get any say in this at all?"

"No, you don't—" Bloody-face starts.

"We'll do what we can to keep you alive, darlin', but no promises." Risen-from-the-dead interrupts.

🍊

Stakeout - nsfw

"If you light one more godamm cigarette in this car I will cut every last one of your fingers off." You don't even need to look over at Tangerine to know he's got his fingers hooked around the box of ciggies in his jacket pocket.

He groans and tips his head back, the impact of it hitting the headrest behind him a dull thump. "Oh, fuck off. I'm bored, aren't I?"

You're in one of Lemon's nice cars on a stakeout. Rather—you're stuck with Tangerine in Lemon's nice car on a stakeout.

"You're bored?" You scoff, adjusting your position in the seat for the hundredth time. "Remind me again who's fault is it we're here in the first bloody place?"

The speed at which Tangerine whirls his head around is astounding. His neck definitely pops a couple times. "You're blaming me now?"

"Uh, yes, I am. I think it's pretty obvious that you're the one who put us both here, Tange." You turn your head to look at the man beside you, unsurprised by the classic look of irritation marring his handsome face. "Maybe if you'd stopped running that fucking mouth of yours Lemon would have offered to do this instead. But no, you just had to call him a—what was it again?"

Tangerine actually has the audacity to look pleased with himself. "Dick-train sucki—"

"Right—" You interrupt, "—dick-train sucking bastard. Real original too, Tange, since the trains on Thomas the Tank Engine aren't even phallic at all!"

He's completely silent for a beat, his angry blue eyes staring hard at your face as if he's trying to come up with something equally defensive and witty. "They kind of look like cocks—"

"No, they really don't, Tange. They're literal steam engine trains, for Christ's sake. Not remotely penis-like at all and you know it."

And again, silence. Slow, simmering silence. You can almost feel the air between you boiling with Tangerine's impending rage—and you feel a little smug to be honest, because it's not all that often you can get him riled up so quickly—but you turn anyway, despite your better judgement.

(started writing sex scene in the middle of attempting the pre-plot)

"Get your pussy out." He says and you blink, twisting your head around to look at him.

"Excuse me?" Your eyes widen as you stare, gaze flickering all around Tangerine's very serious expression.

"You heard me." He lifts a hand and gestures two ringed fingers toward your crotch. "Pussy. Now." A pause, and his moustache ticks up coyly. "Please."

"You cannot be serious right now." You cross your arms over your chest and press your thighs closer together. "Fuck right off."

Tangerine tuts, reaching over and resting one of his large hands on your knee. "You've been putting ideas in my head, love, ain't no stopping what you've started now, is there?" He gives a squeeze and you find yourself almost instinctively releasing the tension in your muscles, your legs parting just slightly to allow Tangerine's strong fingers a firmer grip.

"We're on a job, Tange." You mutter, shuffling down in your seat and unintentionally allowing Tangerine's hand to slide up further. "And I'm wearing trousers for Christ's sake—"

"I'll get done with you soon enough." You can hear the smirk in Tangerine's voice without looking at him. "Or, then again, maybe I won't."

"Yeah and Lemon will kill us if we don't get this goddamn photograph..." You sigh, lifting your own hand up to rub slowly at your temple.

"The bloody adulterers went into a fucking hotel, babe, they ain't coming out anytime soon." Your partner pats your thigh and leans into your space, his pointy nose digging into your cheek as he plants a kiss to your skin.

You wriggle again, eyes flickering to the empty streets surrounding your car for a moment before you slump further down in your seat and lift your hips. "Fucking unbelievable—"

Tangerine chuckles lowly beside you as you work your pants down your legs, stopping for a moment to get your shoes off so the garment can come all the way down. You scoot back in your seat when you're done, thankful that the tinted windows and the cover of the night sky will keep you mostly hidden from anyone who happens to go walking by. When you've settled you look over at Tangerine and he seems to have lost his sweater somewhere in the backseat, the swell of his biceps stretching the material of the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He looks so hot like that, just in his shirt and trousers, gold chains glimmering in the dim light from the streetlights outside.

"Oh, no, love." He shakes his head as he hooks a hand under your knee and tugs you off-kilter in your seat. "I said pussy."

You flush hot from your cheeks to your chest, biting your lip as you hesitantly reach down and hook your thumbs in the waistband of your panties, lifting your hips once more to get them off. Once they're in your hand you clutch them to your chest, face hot and knees pressed together again as you frantically look around outside the car. The streets are dead quiet. You're fine.

"You're fine." Tangerine's husky tone gives your thoughts a voice, and your eyes snap back to him the second you feel his fingers upon you again. He looks hungry. His blue eyes barely glimmering in the low light as he shifts himself and leans forward, his hand shoving between your knees and locking around your left leg, tugging hard enough to spin you a little bit in the seat. "Come on. Put your back up against the door and spread your legs for me, love."

Oh.

Your breath stutters as you move in the way he wants, back pressed a little uncomfortably at the driver's side door, but it gives you the space to push your legs apart and present to him. You clutch your panties tighter to your chest and watch Tangerine stretch himself across the centre console—it can't be at all comfortable and yet he continues, practically folding himself over the space between you until he's close enough. You expect him to kiss at your thighs—your muscles tensing pre-emptively because his moustache always, always tickles—but he goes straight for your innermost parts, his tongue dragging right up the split of you, and oh, holy fuck, it makes you spasm.

"T-Tange—!" You gasp, unsure whether you want to close your legs or spread them wider to let him have more.

The fucker actually laughs, his breath fanning over your rapidly dampening pussy and making you squirm, then he looks up at you and holds direct eye contact as he lowers his mouth over you again. You flush even hotter, feeling his lips part as he kisses your sex, slow, tongue pressing at your clit a few times before he flattens it and just holds it there, rubbing up and down.

🍊

[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.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Tangerine has broken into your apartment so many times that you left a key with a note on your coffee table for when he'd drop by again.

One day Lemon texted you a simple "🍊 says thx for the key"

The next time Tangerine wanted to come over he spent way too long pacing the hallway with the key in his hands because it didn't feel right to him, it wasn't his home.

Meanwhile, you knew he was there, because you neighbor had seen him pacing around and texted you.

So you texted Tan to not worry and just come in.

Now, everytime he visited he'd leave trinkets behind. Those being either jewelery on the nightstand, shower items and aftershave or whole outfits that made their way into your closet.

All because you told him it was his home now, too.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

could i make a request? tan is super focused on paperwork, making sure he knows what's going on for your next mission. of course it's better to be safe than sorry, but reading it over for a third rime is getting to be boring, and it's stressing him out. as a distraction, you start stripping, massaging shoulders, kissing his neck. anything to get his attention. you end up riding tan's thigh as a hail mary, which DOES get his attention... 🥴

no you cannot… just kidding😭 hii! I love love it. I ‘accidentally’ made him kinda submissive towards the end, bc I love whimpering men🤭 also I just realised that you wanted the reader to work with tan, but I only just caught onto that, hope that’s okay that I didn’t do that! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

paper break

tangerine x f reader

wc || 1k

warnings || 18+ only explicit content (word porn, blowjob, praise and swallowing) minors dni

hope this all makes sense, I have a fat juicy migraine rn so couldn’t check it properly (I re-read it and ran it through grammarly though)

masterlist + rules

taglist

On the days leading up to missions, Tangerine would often be very stressed and frustrated, locking himself away in his office for hours on end as he re-read papers for the upcoming assignment. His patience ran thin as is, so the added strain of preparation put him in a foul mood. You wanted to dilute his stress in the only way that works.

Keeping a close ear out, you hear him leave for the bathroom. Quietly sneaking yourself into his office, you loosen the bow on your satin nightgown, allowing it to drape over the lace babydoll you knew he loved. Laying down on the leather sofa opposite his desk, adjusting yourself on your side with your elbow propped up, head resting in your palm.

He makes his way back into the room with a groan, frustratedly raking through his hair as he takes a seat. “Jesus Christ.” He exclaims, clearly shocked by your presence. “I ain’t got time, what do you want?” He questions as his eyes dart over the information papers, his gaze avoiding you.

“Thought you needed a break.” You softly reply, trailing your fingers over your thighs to grab his attention. “… I need one too.”

“Yeah well, I can’t right now… fuckin swamped.” He sighs, lobbing the paper clip before flicking through the papers. “Where the fuck is it?” He mumbles.

“Where’s what?” You reply in a somewhat sultry tone, sitting up and slowly making your way over. “Is it there?” You reply, bending over the table so he could see down your exposed chest. Trailing a finger up his arm.

“Mate.” He chuckles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Later, please.”

“You seem tense,” you add, walking around the desk to stand behind him. Grazing your palms over his tight shoulders, lingering over his upper arms. “… so tense.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just hums lightly, rolling his neck as he felt into your touch. “Come on now.” He whispers, trying to balance the debate between his two heads. “That ain’t fair.”

Leaning over, pressing your tits against his back as you place a featherlight kiss to the side of his neck. Lightly breathing against the skin as you continue to tease him. You drag your hands over his back as you make your way around him, facing him and taking a seat on his thigh. Hovering as you gingerly wind your hips over him, lightly rubbing yourself over his leg. His head rolls back as his hands tightly clutch around your waist, gripping you as you please yourself.

His neck snaps back up to look at you, watching your closed blissed eyes. “Get down.” He says suddenly, nodding to the patch of floor between his feet. “Knees.”

Sliding down and doing as instructed, you kneel between his legs, resting your elbows on his thighs as you gaze up at him with pleading eyes. His hands eagerly snake into the waistband of his lounge trousers, reaching into his boxers he pulls out his hardened cock, allowing it to rest against his stomach while he pushed the hair away from your face. Collecting it in a bunch behind your head as he guides you between his thighs.

He grips himself at the base, giving it a couple of firm tugs before tapping his head on your bottom lip. Gently slapping it as he trails his tip along the softy needy flesh, dragging several drops of precum over them. Looking up at him, taking note of his almost animalistic features, watching the way his teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. Breathing staggered with his gaze fixated on you.

He pushes his head past your lips, keeping himself shallow and popping his head out with a looming smirk.

His hands cup your jaw, angling you forward so your mouth could finally melt around his cock. A low gruff moan escapes his lips the second he feels the warm contact hug around the place he needed most, his hungry eyes watching his dick disappear in your mouth. “Oh princess,” he mutters, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks. “Fuck— right there, get the head… yeah like that, like that-.” He continues, his words freely spilling from his mouth.

Sinking further over him, holding his tip to the back of your throat as he twitched and pulsated in your grip. Dragging him out again you lightly swirl your tongue over his head, teasing his cock while you gazed up at him through your lashes. Watching the way his chest heaved with every strangled breath. “Honey, fuck… right—“ he mumbles, cutting himself off with a slight whimper. He slides his hands over your cheeks and into the roots of your hair, gently tugging you forward as your mouth continues to melt around him. “Christ.”

His words of encouragement quicken your pace, lips tantalisingly running over his veins as you massage him with your mouth and palm, working over him at just the speed he needed. Sucking in your cheeks as you continue to drag him in and out of your mouth, the added pressure sends his neck back, freely rolling as soft moans pour from his parted lips. “Please…” he whines, his fingers eagerly gripping your hair, delicately bunching it.

“I can’t— can’t… right there, right there, right there.” He mutters, eyes screwing shut as he pulsates inside your mouth, twitching erratically before his full release coats your tongue. Spilling in your mouth as you continue to work over him, listening to his needy whines and groans as you watched the desperation melt from his focused features.

Lapping up the rest of his cum, you place a light kiss on the tip of his cock before tucking him back into his boxers. Tapping his crotch in accomplishment with a grin spread wide across your lips. “I shall leave you be.” You start, teasing him.

His hand clasps over your forearm, silently begging you to stay as he helps you to your feet. “Ain’t no fuckin way you’re going now.” He smirks, lifting you into his lap and kissing your lips tenderly. Grinning as he nods down to the area between his thighs. “Just need a couple minutes.”

@tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @screams-and-scarecrows @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things

[vicky342]

Hello lm hamdi ayyad ,I humbly ask for your support by reblogging this post on your account to help save my family. As newcomers to Tumblr and GoFundMe, we are in desperate need of your kindness and support. 🙏🇵🇸🍉😔Please donate 🙏🏼Let's reach the goal as soon as possible!!! https://www.gofundme.com/f/hamai-ali-ayyad?utm_source=copy_link&utm_medium=customer&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_tip&attribution_id=sl:6829f712-b01e-4b79-ace7-f376582ddccc

Hi Folks if yall can help Hamdi out by donating it would mean alot to me!!

[loveiis]

jackpot

tangerine x reader (drabble)

WARNINGS: cursing (if you squint), innocent!reader, suggestive thoughts, author does NOT know how to use warnings

i sat in the quiet car, my glasses on, reading a book. i had my favorite song playing in my ears, and i was at peace. but i was starving, and the stewardess wasn't supposed to be coming back for a while, so i decided to just go to the kitchen car myself.

i marked where i was in my book, and kept my music in my ears as i went. as i was getting closer, i heard faint loud noises coming from the room.

i ignored it, turned up my music more, and walked in. there were two men in there, looking like they just ran a marathon. i just glanced at them and looked at the snack cart.

"can she hear us?" ladybug whispered to tangerine. "no." tangerine made a hand gesture towards his ear to signify that i had earbuds in.

i softly opened the sliding door in the cart, to find a shit load of snacks and drinks. "jackpot!" i say out loud. i forgot that those two men were here. i stood up for a second. "sorry guys." i go back down into the snack cart. i grab a bag of chips and sparkling water and stand up from my squatting position. i do a small victory "yay" as i bend over to close the sliding door.

"oh, fuck me." the man looks up instead of looking at me. i stand up and turn to him.

"sorry, did you say something?" i take one earbud out, thinking i heard him say something. "nothing, darlin' just thinkin' aloud." he seems to be nervous and looking around. "oh, okay." i softly smile at him and the other man. they smile back and i turn to leave the car.

as i sit back down where i was, i enjoy my snacks and look outside the train's window as my song plays. i was thinking about that man, the one with the curly, distraught hair. i wondered why he seemed nervous.

only then did i remember i had a skirt on.

(p.s. this was the best i could do for my first post dont hurt me)

[justanoasisimagines]

Surprise!

Summary; Tangerine gets an unsuspected surprise when looking after the White Death's son... Pairing; Tangerine x Female Reader WordCount; 556 Warnings; Strong Language A/N; Requests are open! Request guidelines are posted on the top of the page! Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and the banner

Tangerine couldn't quite believe his eyes. What the fuck were you doing here? You weren't supposed to be here. Tangerine stormed through the compartment. He didn't say a word as he gripped your arm dragging you toward the nearest bathroom. "What the fuck are you doing here? I told you specifically to stay at home. Last time, I checked love, it wasn't the opposite day!" "Don't have a go at me. Lemon told me to come. He said you needed me on this one" Tangerine ran his hand through his hair tugging on the ends. Tangerine thought he'd made it clear. You were to stay out of the way for this one. It was too dangerous. He didn't want you involved with the business involving the white death. "Yeah, yeah, I needed you at home Love. Somewhere safe. These people aren't our usual type-" "You know I'm fully capable of handling myself" "I know Love, your skillset is not in question, but I didn't want to be worrying about you too." "Well I'm here now, so you stuck with me." "You're not gonna do anything. Leave it to me and Lemon. Speaking of we need to get back to him." Tangerine stormed through the compartment, fingers entwined with yours as he pushed past anyone who dared to get in his way. "Hey Lemon, you're never gonna believe who I've found lurking around. It's only my fucking wife, which is odd considering I'd thought we'd left her at home. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would ya." Lemon's eyes widened as you moved toward the table, sitting adjacent to the white death son "Oh shit, I was meaning to tell you about that" "I know that much! What part of I want her to stay at home don't you understand?" "Here me out yeah. I had a reason!" "Well go on enlighten me" "No offense, but this contract has you all wound up. You're not good to me like that. Your missues is the only one who can do that" "I have a fucking mobile! She could have done that over the phone!" The two continued to bicker if you'd let them. "Could you both stop? I'm here now and unless you've got the power to stop the train. I'm stuck here. Both of you need to get your shit together" "She's right" "Of course she's fucking right, when is she not. Wait, have you eaten today, of course you haven't. Lemon go find her something to eat, would you?" Lemon raised from his chair to go find something for you to eat. Tangerine wrapped his arm around the back of the chair. "I didn't say this earlier, darlin' but I am happy to see ya. I missed ya." Tangerine leaned over grabbing hold of your face to kiss you firmly. Lemon returned passing you foo, laying some food out for himself. Tangerine looked back at him twice. "What am I Casper the fucking ghost?" "You didn't ask for anything. How was I supposed to know? I'm not a fucking mind reader." "You could have fucking asked! You never ask." The white death so leaned over the table beckoning you closer. "How do you put up with those two?" "Honestly some days, it's a labor of love, but I wouldn't have it any other way."