#tangerine x clementine

[princeresnikov]

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

ten. tangerine: indistinct by design.

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

{ Masterlist }

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

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

Chapter Warnings: light discussions of murder

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

Except Clementine's phone buzzes. 

All three of them turn their attention to her bag.

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

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

"Something more important to get to?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Humour me would you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"In which language?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So when you, say, default back -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What have you done now -"

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

Tangerine frowns obvious confusion.

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

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

"Well what's your leading theory?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Allegedly."

"Allegedly." 

"Or she could have been competition."

"What?"

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

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

"She wasn't the first."

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

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

Lemon took a deep breath.

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

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

"I think you're distracting yourself -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Thomas the Tank Engine.

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

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

"No," Tangerine concedes.

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

Right, The Hornet.

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

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

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

[blackkatskauldron]

Summary: Another introduction. A biblically accurate angel? And a gentlemen.

Hi I need these two to get to the enemies part so they can be lovers. They need to hate so they can... Hah Note: I've updated this chapter at the suggestion of a fellow writer. Thanks for pointing out where my story could have gone a little smoother, SoulWeaver! DISCLAIMER: Any mental illness depicted may or may not be accurate. I try my best to research symptoms, but I am not an expert and often base things on my own experiences. This is a dark story and as the author I do not agree with all the things the characters do, say, or believe. Trigger warnings are in the tags. You have been warned, read at your own risk.

[princeresnikov]

More fanart for it's in my nature by @princeresnikov

Did I draw the entire first image just for the punchline in the second one? ......who can say

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Since the mission in Tokyo, you wanted Tangerine out of your life as soon as possible. Instead, he stormed back in to save you from yourself.

Genre: Fluff, Enemies To Lovers <3

Warnings: excessive amount of swearing, sexual themes, canon like violence, mentions of violence, blood, career sexism

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

You were only supposed to snatch a stupid briefcase for your friend, Carver. Instead, your trip ended with a crushed up train, three concussions, one broken arm, multiple bruised egos, and a whole lot of unrequested fun facts about Thomas The Tank Engine.

Oh, and a man you were convinced wanted to become your mortal enemy.

You had heard about the infamous Twins in passing — the Bolivia case mostly — and you never questioned anyone when they assured you they were professionals. At least not until you saw them fuck up more than once in one evening.

You liked Lemon. He was a decent guy, a smart assassin, and he made you laugh with his corny obsession with a children's show.

His brother however — what a fucking asshole!

Tangerine had came in strong with an attitude. He was just eye roll here, sucker punch there, and whine, whine, whine. He also had the worst timing, somehow always running into you whenever you were trying (and failing) to do your fucking job.

He seemed just as irritated by you as you were by him, however it was obvious he loved having you at his mercy: wether that was stuck pressed between the train and his arms, with his gun lodged into your throat, or hearing you say "please" and "thank you" when he swooped in like a devilish knight and saved you from a deadly bullet to the stomach.

Still, you couldn't leave Tangerine's deranged ass quicker once the nightmare that had been that mission was finally over.

You really didn't think you'd see the twins again — certainly not at the same club where you were supposed to carry out your, rather simple, information extraction mission but when you do, your eyes narrow.

Lemon looks mostly casual. His dyed platinum hair is curled around his face as he leans his arm around the booth he's sitting in, casually conversing with another man you don't know.

Standing next to the booth, Tangerine looks even less casual. He's wearing his all too familiar dark blue blazer. His hair and mustache are just as neat as they had been on the train that evening and you smirk. He has a lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he occasionally takes it out and obnoxiously blows smoke into the air.

He looks infuriatingly good.

You cross your arms, watching them from across the room. You look around. Your target hadn't made an appearance yet and in the meantime you'd had to turn down many desperate and drunk men swarming you for your attention.

"Fancy seeing you here, luv." You smirk, hearing his voice, hoarse and velvety, near your ear. He'd found you quickly. Seems like he has a talent for that and you wonder if he'd somehow planted a tracker on you.

"Stalking me now, Orange?" You ask, not even bothering to turn around as you lean on the bar counter and start to intentionally swirl your drink around the glass.

"Tangerine." He corrects.

You turn this time. Your eyes meet his chest and they start to slowly move up until you can look at him in his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes, "Potayto, potahto." You say, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, aren't ya as chirpy as ever, Poppy." Tangerine snarls. Your lips curl hearing the code name you'd used on that train. You've been using it ever since.

You look around seeing your target walk into a small room in the corner of the club. You run a hand in your hair, smack your lips together, and glance nonchalantly at Tangerine. You send him a sweet smile, "Well, Clementine, I always enjoy our little chats but I'm quite busy and don't have time for your potty-mouth right now." You turn away from him.

He catches your arm, "I really wouldn't follow im in there if I were ya, darlin" He warns seriously. You turn around, skeptical, but listen to him anyway.

"Why is that?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Because, luv," Tangerine smirks as he firmly holds your shoulders and turns you both around. Nonchalantly, he gestures towards the door to the little room the man walked into, "That bastard hired Lemon and I to kill ya."

You tense, "What?" You spin around, heart pounding.

"Ya seriously din't think you'd been asked to be a fucking honeypot without any exterior motives?" You feel insulted until Tangerine continues, “You're an assassin, darlin', and a pretty damn fucking good one. Having you as a honeypot is a crime in itself." You realize it's the first time Tangerine has complimented you and he's looking at you with an unusually concerned expression.

"So, what are you waiting for?" You blink, completely serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Kill me." You say calmly, "Since when do you and Lemon not finish a job?"

The brunet looks at you like you've gone completely insane (which maybe you have) and then laughs, "Ya want me to kill ya, doll?" Tangerine genuinely looks like he's just heard the funniest thing in his life. However, his eyes narrow darkly and his hands curl harshly around your arm, "Fine."

Sure, you know Tangerine had been ruthless on that train but you'd also been extremely aware that he'd intentionally missed opportunities he had to kill or badly wound you. So, when he yanks you into the men's bathroom, you panic.

You pull against his arm and push against chest as you try to take out the small knife you always cram inside your boot, but Tangerine is too quick. Your body is suddenly thrown across the bathroom like you're nothing and you crash into the mirror, ribs hitting the sink. You stare at him, eyes fluttering from the pain as you sway on your feet and clutch your side.

Tangerine looks completely unfazed as he struts over to you and then grabs your chin between his fingers so forcefully you unintentionally whimper, "Where's the assassin I met on the train, huh?" He asks, his voice smooth, "Haven't given up so easily, have ya, darlin'?"

You stare at him. He's taunting you. He wants you to fight him. Quickly, you knee him in the groin and side kick him to the ground. He stumbles a little but recovers from the hit. A sensible voice in your head screams at you to run but instead you pull Tangerine up by the collar of his expensive suit and body slam him against the wall, your forearm crushing his throat.

When you look at him, Tangerine is smirking cockily, "Atta' girl." He croaks.

You realize a little too late that the only reason you managed to pin Tangerine to the wall was because he was letting you. The moment he resists, you're the one easily pinned as one of his hands presses your wrists above your head.

Time suddenly feels unimportant as you look into his eyes. “Am I in danger?" You whisper, breathlessly.

Tangerine's stoic expression falters a little and he drops your arms and looks around the bathroom. He turns back to you, running a hand in his hair. “Yes." Your heart leaps, “Lemon and I mean you no harm, but someone else wants you dead, Poppy."

His hand slides down your back as he leads you outside of the bathroom and back into the busy noise of the club. You catch his arm as he walks in front of you, "Tangerine, wait," You say, voice raspy. You watch him turn around. His hair is messy from his hand and he's looking at you like he's never heard you say his name before.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you want to ask him to stay. A little part of you wants him to stay so he can take care of you. Only, you can't ask him that. You've looked after yourself and you've long accepted that that's how it would always be.

"What?" Tangerine frowns, wearing an irritatingly handsome expression for someone that looks so confused and, frankly, a little annoyed.

You frown and, as hard as you can, slap him across the face. From his profile, you can see a dark glimmer appear in his eyes and his jaw tightens. He doesn't react as he slowly looks at you again, and then he can't because you're kissing him.

You bury your nails into his cheeks as he wastes no time to grip your hips with his hands. You kiss him passionately and clumsily — like you've never kissed anyone before but somehow when his lips move against yours it still feels flawless.

"Fuck," Tangerine groans when you bite his lower lip and smile proudly.

He pulls you closer to him and his hand comes up to hold your neck as his fingers bury themselves in your hair. He jerks your head backwards painfully but you groan in approval. Tangerine begins to suck on the skin of your neck like he's been starved of you for years.

You don't want him to pull away when you feel him move so you chase his lips. He chuckles, his voice low, and cups your cheeks in his hands as he looks at you. His eyes are weirdly affectionate for a man who's a cold blooded killer.

"Are you going to turn me in?" You ask him, your face still in his hands.

"What didn't ya understand when I told ya Lemon and I won't cause you any harm?" He rolls his eyes, gently patting your cheek. Slowly, as if savoring the touch of your skin, he slides his hands down your arms and then intertwines your fingers with his, "Come on, we're leaving."

You let him lead you through the sweaty bodies of the dancing crowd until you reach the booth where Lemon sits. He sees his brother and then his eyes flicker to your hands and the corner of his lips curl, "I see you found er," Lemon waves at you.

"Bugger off," Tangerine snarls, hearing something in Lemon's voice that you hadn't, "And get off your fucking arse, Lemon," He adds, "I don't wanna deal with that bloody bastard when he realizes we aren't killing er. I don't want his filth on my suit. I like this suit."

Tangerine lets your hand go to adjust his collar. You cross your arms and look around the club. Accidentally, you make eye contact with someone and your entire body freezes.

He sees you before you can look away. Quickly, you turn to Lemon and Tangerine, who haven't stopped bickering, and slap Tangerine's chest to get his attention. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, "Hate to break up the love-fest boys, but I think our little friend just realized you lads plan on keeping me fucking breathing." You hiss.

"Bloody fucker." Tangerine whispers, his eyes glued on the man approaching you all as Lemon stands. Lemon pulls out his gun and unlocks it with a click. You bend over to take the knife from inside your boot but the moment you have it in your hands, Tangerine snatches it from you and replaces it with his gun.

"I don't want this," You deadpan.

"Don't argue." He squints at you and twirls your knife in his hand.

Ignoring him, you reach for your weapon anyway, "I like my knife, thanks."

Tangerine tuts and holds it above his head, smirking, "Guns are safer, luv." He patronizes.

"Misogynist asshole." You grumble, earning a frown from him.

"Mates, now ain't the time." Lemon interrupts sternly. You look behind him and see that the man who'd hired you to kill him, just for him to kill you, has a few other bulky looking buddies with him and they're much closer than they were earlier.

Without hesitation and because Tangerine is distracted, you manage to jump up and take the knife from his hand. You then proceed to meticulously launch it past the swarm of dancing bodies. With a smoosh it lands smack in the middle of one the men's head and the sound of his body hitting the ground causes a mass panic.

"Fucking brilliant," Tangerine scolds, looking annoyed, "Now ya lost the fucking knife." His hand wraps around your forearm and he whispers in your ear, "And I ain't misogynistic, sweetheart, I just don’t wanna see ya hurt," He admits.

He starts to pull you away but you wiggle out of his grip, "Poppy!" He shouts as you sprint towards the men.

Fuck this, you think, if those motherfuckers want you dead then you won't wait around for them to kill you – you'll kill them first.

You take the man closest to you in a scissor leg takedown, slamming him onto the ground. You snatch your knife from the dead man's head as he lays not far from you and slit the throat of the man you're pinning to the ground. You spin your head around and throw Tangerine his gun. Quickly, he unlocks it and, with Lemon, starts shooting past the innocent civilians and manages to fatally hit a few of the men.

You make your way to the leader and front kick him in the hand so he drops his gun. When he does, you try and bend over to retrieve it from where it fell only the man manages to punch you in the jaw. You stumble over, tears pricking your eyes from the pain, but stand up anyways. "Who the fuck are you?" You demand, returning a punch that the man easily avoids. He backhand slaps you so hard you groan. You fall onto your knees and your knife slides out your hands and across the floor.

"You don't remember me?" The man asks with a snarl, his Irish accent thick.

"No." You hiss, crawling to reach your knife. Only, the man kicks you in the stomach and you can't help the scream that leaves your lips.

You blink, cheeks and palms pressed to the floor as you helplessly watch Tangerine and Lemon in action. There had been more men then you'd anticipated and while the Twins can certainly assert themselves in combat, they're far too concerned with defending themselves to help you.

You feel a hand grip your hair and the man harshly turns you around so he's straddling your hips. He presses your knife against your neck and smiles at you. He's young, clean-shaven, and has moles sprinkled across his cheeks like small freckles. You stare at him only to have him spit in your face. Shutting your eyes, you snap, "What the fuck?" and struggle against him.

"You took everything from me, Y/n." He growls and your heart leaps. He knows your name.

"I don't even know who you are!" You try to buck your hips so he falls but he's too strong.

"You stole my job. The hit on the Senator and his family a few months ago, remember them?" You nod, "Well it was mine and you swooped in and took it from me. My reputation, gone in seconds because of some inexperienced, useless, brat." He rants like a madman and presses the knife harder until it strains crimson.

"Everyone steals jobs, it happens." You explain, voice hoarse.

"And yet you couldn't even finish it."

You can barely breathe anymore. "I couldn't kill the child." You explain.

"I know. I did, and yet you still took all the fucking credit," He smirks and lifts his arm. "You ruined my reputation – everyone said I was beaten to the task by a fucking girl – and now you're gonna pay." You squeeze your eyes shut.

Instead of the pain from the knife you hear one gunshot and suddenly the man collapses onto you. Instantly, you sit up and shove him away. Your head snaps up, eyes wide, to see whoever just shot him.

Tangerine stands over you, tucking his gun back into his pants behind him. There's blood splattered across his cheeks but you don't think it's his. He grins, "Now he's a fucking misogynistic bastard." He holds out his hand and helps you stand, "Ya ok, luv?"

You nod slowly and look around the club. There are bodies everywhere. Lemon stands in the center, cleaning his gun and he tilts his head at you, "We should skedaddle before the coppers come." He points out.

You nod again and let Tangerine and Lemon walk you out and into their car.

* * *

The Twins house is as you would have imagined. It's basically a mansion and just as polarized as they are. All the rooms Tangerine touches are neat and fancy, while whatever is Lemons has more of a messy, boyish, charm.

You're sitting on the kitchen counter as Tangerine presses alcohol to your neck as he cleans your wound. He's uncharacteristically gentle with you,

"So, what did that wanker want with you anyway?" He asks, not looking into your eyes.

You grimace, "I stole his hit, apparently."

Tangerine raises his brow, "And he wanted to kill you because of it?"

"I also took his credit for killing the Senator's four year old son," You sigh, "When in reality, I couldn't bring myself to harm the little boy." You feel pathetic in front of Tangerine, who is silent for a moment until he says,

"I wouldn't have killed him either."

You look up at him, "Really?"

He looks you in the eyes, "Really. I don't harm kids." He pauses and then moves some hair away from your face so he can clean some more scratches you have on your skin, "Why'd ya take credit for the kill?"

"I didn't want to seem weak in front of my employer. He already trusts men more than women." Your sentence dies and you look away, "This is a male dominated business, you know? Like most careers, us women have to survive somehow." You bury your head in your hands, "I know it's dishonest but the only reason I got that job on the bullet train was because I earned a little reputation from the Senator hit."

Tangerine suddenly laughs and it makes you turn your head towards him again, "What?"

"I understand, luv. Ya don't need to explain yourself."

"You do?"

He kisses your forehead quickly, "Mmhm."

You feel weirdly fuzzy with his lips on your skin and you remember your previous kiss. You aren't sure if you should mention it, or simply pretend it had never happened. Tangerine pulls away from your skin, but his finger slips under your chin and tilts your head to look at him. His eyes jump from yours, then down to your lips, and you hold your breath.

When he kisses you, you know there is no need for talk anymore.

"Should have known you had a soft spot for me." You say anyway, smirking into his lips.

Tangerine frowns, "What's that, sugar?"

"You're secretly a softie, aren't you?" You tease him with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, his frown deepens and he warns, "You're startin' to get on my nerves, sweetheart. Continue like this and next time, I'll leave ya to defend yourself from that arsehole."

You fake hurt, dramatically crossing your hands over your heart, and flutter your eyelashes at him, "You wouldn't, Tan."

"Nah," Lemon interrupts the banter, entering the kitchen with his pink boxers and his mouth full of mint toothpaste, "He couldn't leave ya, Poppy. You're all he ever talks about."

"Shove one up your arse, Lemon." Tangerine hisses, eyes narrowing at his brother.

"You dug your own grave, mate, lay in it." Lemon dismisses him with his hand, "G'night." He smiles at you and spits in the skin. Tangerine watches Lemon walk out of the room. His face is deformed into an annoyed expression,and the moment Lemon shuts the door behind him, Tangerine looks at you.

"Zip it." He demands. He taps your upper thigh as an indication for you to jump off the counter. When you do, his hands linger on your waist, "Come on, you're up way past your bedtime, luv." He smirks at his own joke as he leads you out the kitchen and down the hallway.

Tangerine's room smells like him and is cleaner than your entire apartment. You walk to the queen-sized bed and marvel at how comfortable it is when you sit on it. "Here," Tangerine says nonchalantly and hands you one of his shirts. He turns around, making sure you have your privacy, as he starts to unravel his blue-tie.

You don't protest as you step out of your dress and throw his shirt over your head. You feel out of place when Tangerine turns back around and looks you up and down. He raises one eyebrow, "Well?"

"Well what?" You ask, confused.

"Get into the bloody bed, Poppy." He says harshly.

"What? Where are you sleeping?"

Tangerine runs a hand in his hair, "In the living room."

"Bullshit. You can sleep in your own bed, I’ll sleep on the couch." You pause, eyes scrunching, "Or I- I'll juts go home."

Tangerine smirks, "In my shirt?" He motions to your dress on the ground and you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Just shut up and listen to me for once." He says.

"Then you stay too. There is enough room," You reason as you walk to one side and dramatically pull down the covers. You stare at him with wide eyes and pat the mattress, "You aren't afraid to sleep with a woman, are you now?" You tease.

Tangerine's cheeks flame and he grumbles something under his breath but he’s shedding his blazer. You avert your gaze and climb under the covers.

Your back is turned to Tangerine as you hold your breath, eyes bouncing around the room. Then, the light switches off, the bed dips and suddenly you feel warmth next to you.

"Tan?" You whisper into the darkness after a moment.

You hear him shift in the bed and then a small hum to tell you he' listening, "Poppet," He mutters and your lips curl upwards.

"Thank you.”

Silence.

"While I do appreciate the gratitude, why ya thanking me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Thank you for not killing me, and saving my ass, and of course letting me stay here — with you and your brother — " Your chest feels lighter and your eyelids start to feel sleepy. You feel Tangerine shift in the bed again and suddenly his arm is around your waist.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver as Tangerine pulls you into him until you're curled up against his chest. You let out a shaky breath when you feel his cheek rest near yours, "Shhh, sleep now, luv. We'll leave the thank yous for tomorrow, hmm?" His voice is uncharacteristically sweet.

You hum in approval and let your eyes flutter shut. You start to drift in and out of sleep but you're almost certain you hear Tangerine mutter, "I'd never let anything bad happen to ya, Poppy. I promise, you're safe with me," just before you fall into the most relaxing sleep you know you'll ever have.

[hannie-dul-set]

CITRUS IN THE MORNING.

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love. w — kissing. 403 words.

note — i have So Much feelings for this man and i just had to let it out somehow or else i'd die. hope u enjoy.

sunghoon, who has only ever daydreamed of holding you in his arms, feels dizzy when the citrus of your perfume hits his senses and the intoxication of your skin against his leaves his head in a blur and heart beat in a frenzy. he feels clouds over his head. he thinks he’s still dreaming.

“you look silly.”

but he’s not. it’s made apparent that you’re very real when your soft giggles hisses fireworks into his ears, when the warmth from your palms seep into his cheeks in tangerine shades, overripe from the love and adoration that swells in his chest every time he looks at you, at your eyes— what more when you’re making his midsummer daydreams come true? one word from you, and he’d melt himself into oblivion.

“is...is this okay?” he asks as if he’s committing a crime, as if holding his lover (he still isn’t used to calling you that) in his arms is a blasphemous act of treason. it’s evident in the nervous tremors of his knuckles on your hips as you’re sitting cross legged on his lap, smiling so sweetly.  it’s evident in his shaky breaths and the quiver of his throat. it’s evident when his grip suddenly becomes tighter.

the heavens should punish him for being blessed with the sight of an angel’s smile.

“it’s okay,” you hum and press a quiet kiss on jaw. he could die in your arms right now and be reborn in the earth’s soil all in the same breath just so you can slaughter him over and over again— with your warmth, with your embrace, with clementine kisses you’re peppering on his face, spritzing douses of saccharine pulses onto his cheeks. “tell me what you want. i’ll make your dreams come true, sunghoon.”

you already have, but he can’t say that out loud. he’s been granted the privilege of the dream that is you. 

“kiss me more.”

yet sunghoon surprises himself with his own greed. the sweetness of your lips all over his fevered skin must have lulled him to the senseless temptation of wanting to taste them with his own. but you’re so kind, so obliging to entertain his treacherous greed, and within a second’s notice, the electric citrus of your mouth on his bursts like a million pulps of tart and honey, and sunghoon is breathless, helpless, and smitten with the sound, sight, scent, and taste of you.

CITRUS IN THE MORNING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[avocado-writing]

i hope u know im chewing on ur good omens work like a cat does with those matatabi sticks ,,,, ANYWAY do u mind writing an aziraphale x reader [gn] x crowley w a recurring fruit means love metaphor ? like sharing a lil clementine or getting ur hands all gross n sticky from cutting smthn open [cough cough a peach . i had 2 stick my fingers in one 2 separate it n get the pit out n it was ,,, mildly uncomfortable] n the other person sucks the juice off their fingers ,,,,,,,,, just very intimate n cute things like that :] thanx !!

so I’m sorry this is less love as fruit and more uhhh lust as fruit please forgive me

Crowley x reader x Aziraphale (good omens)

From his place sorting books he never intends to sell into one of his many already-cramped shelves, Aziraphale watches you in the break room. 

You’re waiting for the kettle to boil, eating an apple while you grab a mug and teabag. Even from here Aziraphale can hear the pop-hiss as you take a bite from the crisp skin. Your teeth sink into the flesh and juice rolls down your chin onto the counter. You wipe it away absent-mindedly with the back of your hand.  

You might be the one eating, but it’s Aziraphale who swallows. 

You lick your lips, thumbing the sweet stickiness from your face and sucking it clean. Aziraphale wonders what it tastes like.

He wonders if he could do it for you. 

🍎 

“Crowley, you want a bit of tangerine?”

Crowley looks up from where he’s been idly scrolling through his phone - tiktok! Credit where it’s due, hell did a great job on that one - right into your smiling face. He’s not much of an eater (that’s more Aziraphale’s speed) but your eagerness enraptures him. 

“Oh, go on then.”

It’s so human, to share a little bit of your food with someone. It shows you care about them; want them nourished. Crowley’s gaze falls to where your fingers begin to work the orange skin. 

There’s something entrancing about the way you work it. Something almost illicit. The juice dripping from you as your thumb accidentally slides its way through a segment. You curse quietly and work on the other half, your fingertips gliding across the folds of fruit. 

There’s something that trips from being suggestive into lewd. 

He’s glad when you finally manage to pass him a piece, because his mouth has gone utterly dry. 

🍊 

They find you in the shared kitchen, sucking the flesh from a mango. Your eyes dart up from the sticky mess you’ve made on your hands and face. 

“Sorry,” you mutter through your bite, “I promise I’ll clean up in a moment, just—”

You don’t get to finish because they descend upon you. 

Aziraphale licks it from your lips, moaning in the back of his throat at the combined taste of your sweetness. Crowley grabs your hand and takes your whole thumb into his mouth, tongue dancing around the soft pad. 

Their mouths don’t leave you for the next couple of hours. 

[souperbloom]

Hey love! I just want to say you’re definitely the best writer I’ve seen on here in a long time!!! So good!! Would you be able to write about going down on Ash and it’s like overstimulation but he’s into it and becomes a whimpering mess… I’d like that very much🤭 many thanks and much love!!💞

hi friend! i’m on it. (better late than never!) enjoy some domestic, tooth-rottingly sweet sub!ash ;3

————

tangerine, tangerine. [A.I.]

🍊 boyfriend!Ashton x reader

i can’t think of anything eloquent to say about this one guys

a/n: BACK WITH A VENGEANCE!! who missed me? :*

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, sub!ash, oral (m receiving), semi-public / outdoor sex, edging/overstim, pet names.

WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

“Want another?”

Your sunbathing was interrupted by the hum of your boyfriend’s question, mouth full of fruit. Ashton was sun kissed already after 20 minutes out, holding up a peeled clementine with squinty eyes and his guitar resting in his lap. You shielded your eyes to look at him, admiring the sweat rolling down his forehead and onto his chest.

“Yes, please.”

It was the height of noon, a sunny June day. You and Ashton were the type of couple to take advantage of the high UV whenever you could so, the two of you always made it a point to sit out and soak up that deliciously strong vitamin C, no matter the day of the week. It just so happened to be a weekend where both of you were off from work, and time was of the essence.

Ashton’s lips push to the side as he pops a slice into his mouth, leaning forward off of the outdoor couch to dangle the rest of the fruit in your face.

“Here.”

You couldn’t bear to have the sunlight in your eyes for much longer, so you just reached your hand out blindly and hoped he’d catch your drift. And of course, he obliged.

As Ashton hands you the rest of his clementine, you see a sliver of his face through your hand. His hair was overgrown, after you’d begged him not to cut it and asked him to keep it long for the summer. He had small reflective sunglasses resting at the bridge of his freckled nose that brought out the various shades of green in his eyes. You couldn’t hide the smile on your face when he hovered over you, upside down from the couch.

“Tangerine for you means a kiss for me,” he muses sweetly, hanging over you and briefly creating shade beneath the sun.

“Mmm, greedy. I gave you a kiss last time.”

“So? What if I wanted another?”

You laugh at the little glint of neediness in his expression, pretending to contemplate giving your sweet boy a kiss.

“You drive a hard bargain, baby. C’mere.”

He laughs in delight, finding a way to kiss you upside down in this awkward position, you on the deck, him on the couch. But he managed, as did you.

Since coming back from a long writing trip with the guys, you and Ashton were inseparable. Besides from when you worked a few short shifts at a cafe downtown, he was stuck to your hip like glue. He wouldn’t leave you to do anything alone, not that you minded much. Washing dishes meant his hands wrapped around your waist and singing songs together, and going to sleep meant tangled limbs and morning sex.

You were living the dream, so to speak; and now that it was summer, you were free to spend every waking moment together; like he’d told you you would when he first left.

A few minutes passed by, basking in the sun, occasionally checking beneath your bathing suit to see if there were any visible tan lines. Every time you moved, you would hear the rustling of the couch cushions as Ashton snuck a glance at you from above.

“Am I getting any tanner?” you ask him, soft strumming leaving his guitar.

“Mmm, a little. Haven’t been out here for too long. Can’t say for sure.”

You giggle softly, shielding your eyes to try and look at him through the sun, “Well, I don’t see you working on your tan. Care to explain?”

Ashton strums a quick chord, as a sort of intro for the words he were to speak. Then, his ring-clad hand taps against the instrument and echoes through your ears.

“I’ve got other things I’m thinking about,” he puffs, sarcasm laced through his tone.

“Really?” you sit up fully, “What’s the matter?”

His face lifts into a smile as he sees you turn fully to face him, admiring your sun-touched skin and completely entranced by the shimmer from your tanning lotion.

“Not enough of you.”

He mumbles the words as if they were secret, rosey pink falling across his cheeks as he clears his throat and continues to play his guitar.

“So, come down here. Easy fix. There’s plenty of room on my blanket, baby. Could’ve said somethin’ before.”

His eyes shift from the strings to your face, still mindlessly hammering out an intricate melody and moving his fingers up and down the fretboard. You loved letting him play for you, and watching him even more. He’d taken the time to learn all of your favorite songs and could play them all by memory. Today, his melody was reminiscent of a summer day; it was a song you didn't recognize, but it seemed as though he knew it well.

It also seemed like he was playing it as a distraction; like there was something on his mind that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Why don’t you come up here?” Ashton asks quietly, still playing.

“Could I have another clementine?”

“Tangerine, baby,” he corrects you, stopping his tune and resting his guitar at his side, “It’s called a tangerine.”

“I’ll call them whatever the hell I want.”

Ashton smiles at your quick wit, and watches you with his jaw notched as you crawl your way from your blanket on the deck onto the couch. He sits back, preparing for you to cozy up next to him. But instead, you admire him from a few inches away, perched on your knees.

“Get me another clementine. Please?”

Your eyes go doe and Ashton can’t seem to concentrate on any one aspect of your person, his eyes bouncing frantically across your features and seeming overwhelmed by your presence.

There were tangerine peels strewn across the stained glass side table, adjacent to the couch— reminding you of Ashton’s newfound hobby of gardening.

You knew he’d save them for composting. For he saved every last fruit peel since the start of summer. You’re enamored by the way he’s so delicate with his plants and how sometimes, the tangerine peels and gentle green thumb leave his essence smelling of citrus and flowers.

You were in love.

“I’ve got another one here,” Ashton breaks your little space out, snapping out of his own. He reaches to his side and then hands it to you, but you don’t take it quite yet.

“Peel it for me?”

“Really?” he teases.

“Yes,” you pout, serious as can be, “I don’t wanna get sunscreen all over it.”

With a huff, he does as he’s asked, peeling it in one swift motion and discarding the peel where the others were left. He hands it to you, bare, and looks at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Happy now?”

“Feed it to me?”

“Okay, now you’re askin’ for it.”

You giggle cheekily, adjusting your posture so that your face is closer to his body. He smacks his teeth before ultimately giving in, as he always seems to do.

“What’s next? Want me to chew it for you?”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “That would take the fun out of eating it.”

“True,” he murmurs, taking off a piece and bringing it up to your mouth.

Now, it was time to have a bit of your own fun. As he brings the cluster of slices to your lips, you take it, and sink your front teeth down into the fruit. Droplets of juice spill out and drip down your chin, all while your eyes are locked in on his flabbergasted face.

“Mmm,” you hum, chewing the full bunch of slices and scrunching your nose at the bittersweet taste, “S’ good.”

You knew it was impolite to speak with your mouth full, but man, was it even more impolite to stare. Ashton’s face warped into a sad, needy, puppy-dog look, utterly smitten by the way you’d just eaten the fruit from his hand and acted like you’d done nothing at all.

“You’re fucking killing me.”

As you lick your lips and clean off some of the leftover citrus, you tilt your head sultrily.

“How so?”

Ashton runs a disgruntled hand through his hair, immediately shrugging off the robe he was wearing to reveal his tight, black gym shorts. You could see his bulge slightly hilling the fabric, otherwise known as the elephant in the room, and you look down at it with desire.

“Ash, you—”

“Nope. Don’t try to play innocent.”

“But—”

“Y/N,” he warns, “You’re evil. And you know it, too.”

Your bottom lip juts out in faux pity, making sure that your eyes sparkle when you gaze down at his distressing situation.

“Baby, I’m sorry. Want me to help you out? Kiss it better?”

“You’re so mean,” he mumbles softly, biting back the tiniest smile.

“I’m offering a helping hand and you’re calling me mean?” You can’t help but laugh at your own double entendre, making a subtle effort to scoot closer to him. “C’mon Ash, let me make it up to you.”

“Too late now. Ruined your chance.”

You whine at your boyfriend's stubbornness, reaching out to run your hand across the top of his thigh. You could feel the juice left on your chin becoming sticky as it dried beneath the boiling sun, but you were far too determined now.

“Come on. Please? Let me take care of my baby—”

“—You’re really annoying, y’know.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Ashton pretends like he isn’t enjoying the subtle motion of your hand stroking his thigh. The breath he sucked in was telling, for both you and himself. He couldn’t deny how badly he wanted you to act upon whatever you’d promised, and his eyes definitely revealed a lot more than he’d hoped for.

“You sure you don’t want me to,” you break your sentence to crawl closer to him, keeping that hand anchored across his thigh, “help you out?”

Ashton swallows. Hard. He’s trying with all of his might to keep a straight face, but he knew his girl wouldn’t let that happen.

“Wh—” His words are chopped abruptly when you move that wandering hand towards the waistband of his gym shorts, following the smallest bit of sweat that pooled above it. Your face twitches into a wicked smile, instantly emanating a dominant air that seemed unfamiliar for a situation like this.

“Is my baby a little needy this morning? Is he upset that he didn’t get to fuck me before he got up and started his day?”

“Y/N—” That warning tone was back again. His body writhed as you dipped a finger beneath the elastic of his shorts, running your finger teasingly across the fabric.

“Admit it, Ash. This was your plan all along.”

“…No—”

“Don’t lie to me. You and I both know that liars don’t get what they want.”

The playful, domestic energy from before seemed to fizzle out and vanish. It was clear who was holding the strings of Ashton’s desperate little puppet, and you were loving every second of it.

“A kiss for a tangerine, hm? Some fuckin’ deal. Just wanted an excuse to taste me…”

You continued on taunting him and Ashton couldn’t get enough. His face flashed from panic, to anger, then frustration, and ultimately accepting defeat as you tugged the strings of his gym shorts out of their neat little bow.

“Baby.” The nickname dripped off of his tongue like sap.

“Yes?”

He hesitates for a moment, adjusting his legs and spreading them comfortably. You could see the subtle change in his complexion as his gym shorts rode up his thighs and showed off his partial olive-toned tan. The sight had you drooling, but you kept yourself still.

“…Take care of me?”

You were stunned at the switch in his demeanor, his voice was subtle and soft which was a stark contrast from how robust it normally was. It was clear he needed this as badly as you wanted to give it to him. The tent in his gym shorts only continued to grow more tense as you maneuvered your hands around the elastic waistband.

“Quit teasin’ me,” he mutters, frazzled, almost embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you laugh back, finally grabbing the waistband for good, “Seeing you desperate like this is a rarity. Let me have my moment.”

You eventually get to tugging down his shorts, only for his cock to spring up the moment it’s freed from the confines of the netting. You stare at his length in awe, and he had already begun a cadence of groaning and huffing.

“Gonna stay still for me?” You bat your eyelashes as you duck your head down.

“Gonna’ try my damn best.”

Slowly, you ease his swollen tip into your mouth, already reminded of the girth that will follow. He hisses on contact, hand immediately flying to tangle into your hair and brush it away from your face.

Ashton always had an affinity for admiring you whilst you went down on him. And pleasuring him was sometimes more rewarding when you noticed how his lips parted, or the subtle concentrated notch in his forehead. You made sure to keep your eyes on him, despite the awkward angle, and steadily tuck the rest of his length into your cheek.

“Jesus Christ.” The first expletive of many to tumble from his plush lips as he feels you hollow out your cheeks to take him fully.

Since your mouth was occupied, you hummed, noting that you heard his sweet sounds and implying that you wanted more.

“Take it all, yeah— fuck yeah, baby—”

His sultry words rang through your ears like church bells, the bouts of praise creating waves in your lower half that you would’ve liked to ignore if not for Ashton’s wandering hand down your bare back.

You start to bob your head, defaulted to a slow rhythm that you knew drove him wild. That hand of his lands on your bikini string, toying with it as to prevent from touching himself.

“Love it when you suck my cock, baby. Takin’ me so easy,” Ashton bumbles, his sentence ended with a jagged breath brought on by your tongue flicking at his leaky tip.

It was hard not to smile, knowing how much Ashton was enjoying this and how he hadn't seemed to notice that the two of you were out in the backyard where any neighbor could walk out and see this unfolding. But you knew that regardless of who saw what, Ashton wouldn’t let this end just yet.

And neither would you.

You continue your rhythm, making sure to wet his length fully. It was sloppy, a bit loud, and over the top— but again, that was just the way he liked it. There was a method to this madness. After all, you were the one that perfected it.

“Keep goin’, just like that,” he bellows, briefly snapping you out of that slow rhythm. You feel compelled to pop your head up, replacing your mouth with your hand and dragging your thumb across his sensitive tip.

“Feels good, hm?”

“Incredible.”

His auburn curls sifted in the warm summer breeze and perfectly framed the obscene faces he was making. You could tell that it was hard for him to concentrate on the task at hand; with the way his eyelids twitched with each stroke up and down, nose pinching each time your palm neared his tip. You bit down on your lip, trapping sounds of your own, and let him bask in the sunshine.

“Baby, m’close, but—” Ashton is interrupted by your lips reconnecting with his cock, “Don’t speed up. Just— stay the same. S’ perfect.”

You hum again, in acknowledgment, knowing the vibrato from your voice would heighten his senses. The hand of his that was once lingering across your bikini string had dropped down onto the couch. He was white knuckling that poor quilted throw pillow, his grasp getting stronger each time you took his length fully.

“Mmm, fuck,” he groans, “so close.”

Knowing what you know about Ashton and his ‘stamina’, you decide to up the ante. You take your hand and cradle his balls, which in turn causes one of his moans to get stuck behind his teeth.

“Ooh, shit— baby, hang on,” he pleas, the desperation in his voice only making you want to taunt him further.

You’re humming, once again, letting it be known that you’re amused by his overtures yet still doing exactly what he had asked for.

But then, within the sounds of chirping birds and buzzing honeybees, your honeybee makes a sound that you didn’t think was possible coming from a man of such stature.

A whimper.

You freeze. So does he.

“What was that?”

Ashton’s cheeks immediately flush of color, even he was unsure of what could’ve brought upon that angelic sound.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

A look of challenge falls across your face. Testing your boyfriend's limits had always seemed intriguing to you, yet the thought never crossed your mind.

“Was that— a whimper I just heard?”

He looks at you with distaste, masking what could be deemed as embarrassment.

���No.”

“Remember what I said about liars, honeybee?”

He rolls his eyes, a protest of his newfound submissiveness, “Fine. You win. Does that make you feel good about yourself, princess?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply, still teasing the head of his cock with your thumb and enjoying him squirming beneath your hold, “Keep that up and you might just earn yourself some extra sugar tonight.”

As Ashton opens his mouth to fight back, you replace that hand once again with your lips and suddenly, his words are replaced by more of those subdued, whiny pleas. They were like music to your fucking ears. This may have just become your new favorite song.

No way he’d be able to learn that on the guitar.

“God— still so close,” he admits as if you hadn’t just made fun of him, shifting his hips and trying with all of his might and muscle not to buck them, “Feels too good t’ cum.”

You’re still enjoying watching him melt beneath you, as if the sunlight from above was temperate enough to thaw out human flesh. His hands were only getting greedier as time passed, reaching out to touch anything in his path. Your shoulder, the trace of your spine, all the way down to the top of your swimsuit bottoms.

When you take him fully, the tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat makes him cry out. You could feel the warmth and sweat from the adrenaline coating the tops of his thighs each time your face neared the base of his cock.

“C’mon baby, please. Please— more.”

You weren’t even sure if he knew what he was saying anymore, but his disgruntled demands met your one-track mind with content. You hollowed out your cheeks and bobbed your head up and down, up and down. Ashton couldn't get enough.

“Yes, yes. Just like that. Tryin’ t’ hold it— Too much—”

Too much.

Was it really too much?

You were starting to think that Ashton may have discovered a brand new thing for the both of you to enjoy.

As Ashton fought his urges tooth and nail, the fun was only beginning. You could hear his sharp breathing growing heavier and heavier from above you, and feel his stomach muscles tensing with each trip down his cock.

“Oh my god, you feel incredible, baby—” he whines, although it seemed like a challenge to get the words out in one breath.

“Mmmmm?” you hum, as if it were the intelligible words of a question: keep going?

Ashton’s hand, without any restraint, travels to your hair. He holds it into a makeshift ponytail, pulling it away from your face to watch the beauty of the mess unfold right in front of him. You could tell he was overwhelmed and could practically hear his heart thumping right out of his ribcage. He stutters, once again, face collecting to a pinch.

“Gonna’ cum— real’ soon, baby. Keep goin’, please… Please?”

There was something inside of you just itching to pop your head up and finish him off with your hand. You wanted to watch his face contort in pleasure and see his collarbones glisten in sweat as he finished for you.

So, you did just that.

When you lifted your head, you didn’t expect to see Ashton’s eyes already locked in on yours. The action caught the both of you by surprise, in all of it’s messy, hurried glory.

“Kiss me.”

The demand was soft at first, so you echoed.

“Kiss you?”

“Fuck, yes— fuckin’ kiss me.”

Without a second thought, you leaned into him. Continuing that fast paced rhythm of stroking with your hand, your lips connected and a spark ignited. His hands flew to your cheeks, cupping them roughly but sweetly enough to make you forget the point of your mission.

He sighs into you, facial hair scraping against your cheek with each pass of your tongues.

“Cum for me, Ash. I know— I know you want to.”

Your words bounce across his lips and back into yours, not long before his entire body jolts. His hands are quick to find your waist as his cum spurts out and coats your hand.

You never quite minded the mess, anyway. You knew it’d get cleaned up eventually.

“Fuck— fuckin’— shit.”

Like he had just learned to swear for the first time, Ashton grumbles. You pull away to see the sweat from before creating an intoxicating glow onto his cheekbones, his face lifting up into an exasperated smile.

“Holy shit,” he buzzes, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Felt good, didn’t it?” You lift your coated hand from between your bodies, looking down at it with a giggle.

“Uh huh— oh, shit. Let me help you uh, clean that up.”

Ashton reaches over to grab that once discarded robe, having no worries about what he may or may not have to worry about once he gets to folding the laundry.

“Thanks baby,” you hum, taking your free hand to massage his shaky thigh, “I’d say you owe me but, I think I enjoyed this more than you did.”

He scoffs with the shake of his beachy curls, diligently cleaning up the mess he made.

“This relationship is 100/100. Tit for tat. You know I’ll make it up to you one way or another.”

After Ashton sufficiently cleaned up the most he could, the two of you sat in each other’s company for just a little while longer. His arm wrapped around you tightly, occasionally drawing tiny patterns across your shoulder while the two of you watched the sun disappear behind a set of plush clouds.

“Y’know,” you mumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, “I think a shower is in order.”

“I like the way you think,” he replies, before abruptly standing up. He reaches his hand out to you, tossing his robe over his shoulder and pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. “I’ll wash your back, if you’ve got mine?”

⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

you look like you love me

Fandom: Bullet Train

Pairing: Tangerine x Original Female Character

Characters: Tangerine, Lemon, Original Female Character [Clementine]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4606

Summary: I'm drunk and I'm ready to leave and you look like you love me.

Tags/Warnings: Kissing, Gun Shot Wounds, Near Death Experience, Not Canon, Tangerine Lives, Arguing, Guilt

Notes: the girl mindlessly scrolling through tiktok is me x

MASTERLISTS // TAG LIST // SONG LINK

‘No fucking chance,’ Tangerine said firmly earning a groan from his party.

‘Oh come on!’ Clementine whinged, a pout on her pinkened lips.

‘No,’ he said again.

‘Oh go on, don't be a spoil sport,’ Lemon said, rolling his eyes as Tangerine glared at him. As he took a sip of his pint he watched Clementine fold her arms across her chest, her pout growing bigger as if she were a child not getting her own way. Tangerine said, ‘oh don’t be like that.’

‘I just want to sing karaoke,’ she said, leaning up but not uncrossing her arms.

‘Sing it with Lemon then!’ he reasoned, gesturing at the man beside him. He’d leant back now watching the pair of them verbally spar. He knew there was no point in getting involved, they could, and would, hold their own and it was preferable they were taking chunks out of one another rather than setting their sights on him. In fact Clementine’s presence in their life had been a welcomed relief, someone else to bore the brunt of his brother's somewhat varying temper.

‘Oh I intend to but I want to do it with you too,’ the blonde replied before sighing and pleading, ‘oh come on it’s just a bit of fun.’

‘Not for everyone else in here considering I can't even sing,’ Tangerine retorted.

‘It’s karaoke you don’t have to be able to sing,’ she said. Tangerine scowled, his moustache twitching at the movement. It was always like this with her. She never let anything drop, always picking away at things until they ended up fighting or worse he gave up. Sometimes he had to for his own sanity but he couldn’t help it she just got under his skin.

But right now he had the energy to spar with her. This was their celebration of a job well done and though she had been the one to choose the establishment, a cheesy American style dive bar that hung bull horns from the walls and played honky tonk tunes despite being in the south of Berlin rather than Nashville, he was still determined to enjoy himself. The beer was good at least.

‘I don’t even know any country songs,’ he reasoned, ‘this was your fuckin idea remember.’

‘You must know one song,’ Lemon said, finally chirping up if only because the idea of seeing his brother on stage aglow with embarrassment made him giddy with excitement.

‘Do I look like a fuckin’ cowboy to you?’ Tangerine said, the vein in his forehead bulging as his brother weighed in.

‘Now that you mention it,’ Lemon said, gesturing to his brother’s moustache with amusement.

‘Do you want me to stab you?’ Tangerine grunted.

‘I’ll pick something easy I promise,’ Clementine said, hoping to steer the direction back towards the task at hand rather than letting the boys get bogged down squabbling, ‘please Tange.’

‘No,’ Tangerine said firmly, ‘I’ve already let you have your way with having us come to this fuckin’ dive as it is.’

‘Only because you had to,’ Lemon said, ‘it was one of her wishes.’

‘Yes thank you Lemon,’ Tangerine said, offering a tight smile his brother’s way though as he looked back at Clementine he found she was no longer pouting or pleading she was smiling, that infuriating, dazzling smile she had when she was about to get her own way or more importantly do something Tangerine didn’t want her to.

‘No,’ he shook his head, catching on faster than his brother who looked confused.

‘I’ve found my next one,’ she sing-songed, giggling as Lemon started laughing.

‘You’re not serious,’ he scoffed.

‘Deadly. Wish number four is for you to sing karaoke with me,’ she confirmed, making him groan which made her immediately wag a finger at him, ‘ah, ah, you know the rules. All wishes must be fulfilled as asked without protest or whining.’

‘Clem,’ Tangerine started but she was on a roll.

‘Or we can call the whole thing off and I’ll go back to-’ ‘Yes okay fine, fuck!’ he griped, running his hand over his mouth to stem his irritation. But just as she started to celebrate he pointed at her and said, ‘but you’re using them up quick and once they’re gone I don’t to hear want a fuckin’ word you hear?’

‘Loud and clear,’ she smirked as she rose from the table, swaying as the alcohol in her system rushed to her head, ‘I’m gonna go and tell the DJ we’d like to sign up. Back in a minute.’

As she sashayed away smugly he felt Lemon looking at him with a smirk on his face. Tangerine merely held a hand up to silence whatever was going to come out of the other man’s mouth, taking a long drink of his beer as he watched her talking to the DJ in his booth.

One song that’s all he had to do. One song and it was another wish over. One song and she

only had one more insane request left though as he thought about it he tried to remember why he’d agreed to this wish system in the first place. 

‘I need a drink,’ Tangerine sighed. They hadn’t even gotten off the ground yet, he could still hear the pilot doing his rigorous take off checks from the cockpit just ahead of them, but he needed something to take the edge off. He’d been edgy since they’d finished the job, adamant they needed to get the first flight out of Osaka. It was probably the best idea, after all having a hand in the demise of the White Death and his entire family was probably going to catch up with them at some point so why not give them a head start? But it wasn’t just that. He’d thought he’d lost Lemon. For good. He’d looked at his brother’s corpse and his world had collapsed in on itself making him stupid and reckless. If it hadn't been for Clementine he probably would've been dead. She had saved his life and almost gotten herself killed in the process, the bullet they’d pulled out of her thigh living proof of that. 

So yeah he was a little antsy even if she wasn’t, sprawled out on the plush couches of their private jet as she yawned, ‘get me one will you.’

‘Your legs not working are they not, love?’ he quipped intending to get back to their normal selves by bantering with her as he normally would only when he noted her bandaged up leg he felt a twinge of guilt rush through him. Clementine didn’t even seem to notice the correlation, accepting the banter at face value as she said, ‘I'd say it was the least you could do seeing as I saved your arse. Twice if my memory is correct.’

‘You say that like we’ve never saved your arse before,’ Tangerine said as he got to the bar.

‘You have to admit you would’ve been toast back there mate,’ Lemon reasoned. As they locked eyes Tangerine felt his guilt swirl deeper in the pit of his stomach, the memory of Lemon’s limp and lifeless body flashing before his eyes once more. He dropped his gaze to the range of bottles on the bar looking for something that would take that feeling away.

‘No he’s right. He’s saved me enough times,’ she said pushing herself up and hobbling over to the bar. Tangerine frowned as he watched her wince but resisted the urge to help her figuring him trying to lead her would go down like a lead balloon. Instead he opted to ask, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Making us all a drink,’ she said, finally behind the bar and nudging him out of the way with her good hip, ‘I assume you needed me to do that for you too. Or do you think you could manage that all by yourself?’

‘Very funny,’ Tangerine scowled as she giggled, grabbing a fancy bottle of scotch from the bar and handing it to him to pour. He did as he was told, though only because that was the one he’d been eyeing anyway though that only made her beam a smile as she headed back to her seat and allowed him to pour. He did so quickly, swigging a full glass before he made up three drinks and took them over to where they were sitting.

‘Aw you’ve even made it just how I like it,’ she said, taking a sip, ‘you’re learning so well.’

‘Would you pack it in?’ he grumbled as he took a seat on the other couch with Lemon.

‘Not my fault you’re so easy to wind up,’ she smiled.

‘I’m not easy to wind up,’ he retorted, ignoring Lemon’s snort as he continued, ‘you just don’t know how to shut up.’

‘Well you can always make me,’ she bargained, sitting up from where she had been lolling and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

‘Oh yeah and how the fuck do I do that?’ Tangerine said as he laid back against the seat, resting his foot on his knee as he watched her.

‘How about we make a deal?’ she said, watching him cockily as she sipped at her drink. Tangerine watched her. Her hair was up today, pulled back roughly in a clip though she’d allowed a few tendrils to fall around her face, and she was wearing a t-shirt and leggings though he suspected this was more to do with the fact she was bandaged from the thigh up, he knew that because he’d been the one to do it. Still it made her look out of place amongst them, both in crisp new suits. Not someone you'd associate with making deals, even silly little bets like this one.

‘Go on then,’ he said as if the idea bored him entirely though he could feel interest stirring inside him.

‘Okay I’ll stop teasing you if you,’ she stalled clearly thinking on her feet, ‘if you…if you be my slave for a day.’

Tangerine rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why but he’d been expecting something more serious, less childish, but at this rate she was more like Lemon when it came to teasing and games. It was only one step up from Thomas the Tank. Clementine hastened to continue, ‘half a day?’

Still nothing.

‘An hour?’ she bargained. Tangerine merely stared at her.

‘Sounds like a no to me bruv,’ Lemon chuckled as he took a sip of his drink.

‘Well I’m getting something out of it,’ she pouted.

‘How about you celebrate the fact we’re going to keep you on seeing as you’ve actually proved yourself useful and be happy with that,’ Tangerine said. Clementine smiled and placed her glass on the table in front of her.

‘You know it’s okay,’ she smiled, ‘if you’re feeling vulnerable because a woman saved your arse. It doesn’t threaten your masculinity if that’s what you're worried about. Right Lemon?’

‘Course not,’ Lemon chuckled, ‘it shows enlightenment and understanding.’

‘That's what Ladybug would say,’ Clementine giggled though she stopped as Tangerine jumped up and started walking away from them huffily, ‘where are you going?’

‘For a slash so I don’t have to listen to you twats any longer,’ he huffed.

Although he was barely out of the living area of the jet before Clementine was up and following him forcing him to stop and look at her as he questioned, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Coming with you,’ she said as if it were obvious, ‘I figured you’d need help with that too.’

‘You fuckin’-’

‘I can hold it if you want,’ she mused, smiling wider as she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks though it disappeared as he snapped, ‘alright fine! What the fuck is it going to take for you to let this drop?’

Clementine grinned.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she said, moving to flop back onto her seat, her legs up on the dark leather of the airplane seats. The seatbelt sign had clicked on but none of them seemed bothered about adhering to its request. Tangerine was just hoping whatever she was baiting for wouldn’t take long, he really did have to use the bathroom.

‘So the slave thing is definitely off the table?’ she questioned. Tangerine said nothing because his face said what he was thinking anyway, not that Clementine paid much attention to the scowl, she was used to him by now and instead she looked to Lemon and said, ‘what do you think?’

‘Well it’s gotta be something worth your while,’ Lemon said seriously. Clementine nodded in agreement as Tangerine folded his arms and asked, ‘I’m sorry, why are you helping?’

‘Yeah I know what you mean,’ she said ignoring the brunette, ‘something simple he can do hmmm…how about wishes?’

‘Wishes?’ Tangerine scoffed, ‘do I look like a fuckin’ genie to you?’

‘Now that you mention it,’ Lemon quipped but Clementine refused to let them get steered off track as she whined, ‘oh I'm not asking you to make me a billionaire or find the love of my life am I? Just simple things.’

‘Like?’ Tangerine pressed.

‘Like I get to pick where we go for dinner,’ she said.

‘What radio station we pick,’ Lemon added, earning a nod of recognition.

‘What bar we get slaughtered at after a gig,’ she said, ‘that kind of stuff.’

‘And that’ll shut you up?’ Tangerine asked.

‘Yep,’ she grinned, ‘but you have to fulfil your end of the bargain without moaning.’

He deliberated on it for a moment looking between the pair of them, they looked like excitable children waiting to see if their dad was going to agree to take them for a happy meal, but he supposed that was better than they could've been looking. Clementine had saved him and he did want to thank her. And he supposed something silly like this was better than something far worse so with a sigh he said, ‘fine. You get your wish.’

‘Wishes,’ she corrected, ‘let's say ten.’

‘Two,’ Tangerine bartered.

‘Seven,’ she said, bouncing his offer back at him as she stood from the couch, holding her hand out for him to shake.

‘Three,’ he replied.

‘Five,’ she said. Tangerine hesitated and then shook her hand.

‘Five,’ he confirmed, ‘now can I go for a slash in peace?’

‘Of course!’ she beamed moving to sit next to Lemon as they broke into a rapid conversation about what her first wish should be. Tangerine rolled his eyes and headed to the bathroom though he couldn’t help but smile at the happiness in her voice.

Tangerine was brought back to reality as he felt a thump on his chest and looked up to find Lemon staring at him gesturing for him to join Clementine who was now standing on the small stage. The middle-aged DJ watched as he crossed the room, handing him a microphone with a curt nod before he returned to his station and announced to the room, ‘please give a warm welcome to er Tangerine and Clementine!’

There was a smattering of applause from the twenty or so people in the bar as he took to the stage. He tried not to focus on them which was fortunately easy to do because as he acclimatised himself he found the lights glaring on the stage almost blinding. He could barely see into the club, in fact the only thing he could focus on was Clementine. In her signing up she’d now procured a brown cowboy hat and microphone like his. In her blue sundress and boots she almost looked the part which made him feel stiffer in his slackened suit. She didn’t seem to care what he looked like though, pulling him closer towards her by the arm as the music started to play so that he could see the small screen set up in front of them which displayed the words.

YOU LOOK LIKE YOU LOVE ME BY

MALE BLUE/FEMALE PINK was all that was displayed across the small screen as the intro played. To his disbelief Tangerine could feel his heart start to beat faster in his chest. How was it he could stare down the barrel of a gun and not flinch and yet karaoke had his palms sweating? He wanted to duck out even leaning in and asking, ‘am I supposed to know this?’ in the hopes that she’d be merciful due to his ignorance.

Unfortunately though she didn’t, simply offering him a reassuring smile and a pat on the bicep as she said, ‘you will besides that’s what the words are for.’

‘Don’t need to know a tune then?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘It's only one verse and it’s mostly talking I promise,’ she said reassuringly as her words started to load.

Fortunately the first verse was all cast in pink and he watched as she started to sing or rather, speak with a tune. She was right, he had heard the song before, it was always playing from her phone whilst she scrolled mindlessly through TikTok in the back seat. Whilst Lemon unwound by playing video games and he by going for a run she found endless banal internet videos a source of relaxation. Of course he didn’t begrudge her way of coping, it was just that it often started the moment they were back in the car which meant he was forced to hear it and it had led to no end of squabbles between the pair.

So I walked right up, And I pulled him to the side, I handed him a beer and looked him right in the eye, And I said, ‘Baby, I think you're gonna wanna hear this.’ Then I told him. 

She was watching him now no doubt hoping he'd clicked on to why she'd picked the song by

the way she was grinning. Tangerine rolled his eyes. 

‘Excuse me, you look like you love me,’ she sang, ‘you look like you want me to want you to come on home.’

The song was cheesy, country and not his style at all but he couldn’t help but smile at the way she was beaming. And he supposed she was right; his part was minimal and didn’t involve much singing so he had to give her credit even if he was shaky and uncertain as he rhymed off the next verse.

By the time they were coming to the close he even ventured to sing some of the chorus with her, earning a hoot from Lemon somewhere he couldn’t see. Granted he let her experiment with the final run which procured her an enthusiastic round of applause which she lapped up, pulling her sundress from her hips so that she could curtsey. Tangerine merely nodded in recognition and got himself off stage as quickly as he could but as he got to his table he felt her swinging off his neck. 

‘Well done Tange!’ she cheered, moving herself to his side but keeping her arm around him as she looked up at him with a grin.

‘Well done yourself,’ he chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist to steady her, the alcohol and the high making her sway, ‘right set of pipes on ya who knew.’

‘Well that’s why we have to try new things isn’t it,’ she grinned, ‘right Lemon?’

‘Oh for sure!’ he beamed, ‘though you know I'm not going to let you have all the glory right?’

‘You and me are already signed up,’ Clementine vowed.

‘You think you can top it bruv?’ Tangerine asked.

‘With my eyes closed,’ Lemon snorted, ‘what did you pick Clem?’

‘Islands in the Stream of course,’ she said as if he was ludicrous to think anything else, ‘we should be up next.’

‘Excellent, in that case let me nip to the toilet,’ Lemon said downing his drink before he headed towards the bathrooms. Tangerine moved to let him past, knocking into Clementine who grabbed onto his shirt to steady herself. 

‘You really did good,’ she smiled, deep blue eyes looking into his own. Tangerine felt his heart thump again.

‘You too,’ he agreed.

‘Oh yeah fancy round two?’ she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

‘Don’t push it,’ he said, rolling his eyes as he knocked her cowboy hat off her head in jest.

Tangerine never did get back on the stage that night. One because he was sure his heart wouldn’t take the anxiety of it but mainly because the drunker they got the more Lemon and Clementine took to the stage until eventually they were asked, or told, to leave the premises stating they were hogging the mics and needed to let others have a go. It was just as well as by the time they got back to the hotel the pair of them were barely standing, allowing Tangerine, who was just as drunk but somehow able to hold his own, to shepherd them up to their rooms.

He’d barely steered Lemon into their shared room before he was flopping down on the bed fully dressed, already snoring as Tangerine removed his shoes. By the time he’d finished he realised he’d lost track of his other ward and found her flopped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

‘Alright you let's get you to your room,’ he said as he peeled off his suit jacket and threw it on the back of the desk chair. Clementine looked up as she heard him speak before she yawned and said, ‘actually I'm alright here.’

‘Oh no’,’ he said, moving to pull her up by one arm, ‘not a chance, come on.’

‘Do I have to?’ she whined though she allowed herself to be manhandled off the bed, his hands finding her shoulders a moment later as he steered her through the hotel room and out the door until she was standing at the door of the room opposite.

Once outside she moved her bag from where it was draped across her body and stuck her hand in, no doubt fishing around for the hotel key. Tangerine tapped his foot as he waited. He supposed he could have just left her to let herself in but given the way she was swaying on the spot he didn’t want to risk coming out in the morning and finding her curled up against the dark wood of his hotel door.

‘You know you were really good on karaoke tonight,’ she said as she rooted through the small black bag. Tangerine was going to reply something snippy but as she locked her hand around the key she looked up at him and her face was earnest, a smile on her face as she offered the compliment.

‘I didn’t do much,’ he said suddenly feeling bashful, ‘it was mostly you.’

‘Yeah but you didn’t have to do it,’ she said as she turned to slot her key in the door.

‘Thought your wishes were mandatory,’ he ribbed.

‘Oh they are,’ she giggled, though once again when she looked at him there was something behind her expression he couldn’t place, a sincerity he never normally attributed to their relationship. It grew deeper as she dropped her voice, as if offering him a secret as she said, ‘but you were a good sport. I mean you didn’t have to agree…you didn’t have to let me join the pair of you but you did and…well I've been enjoying it.’

‘Me too,’ he admitted, watching as her smile grew, ‘if you tell Lemon I’ll deny it.’

‘Noted,’ she giggled.

Tangerine shifted. He didn’t know what it was, her words or the way she was looking at him but he wanted to offer his own sentiments, one without joking. After all even if he had been bending over backwards to fulfil her wishes he hadn’t thanked her yet not properly and so he said, ‘but I am happy you’re with us…in fact I’m grateful you were I would’ve been fucked if we were on that train alone.’ 

As he said that her face flickered with worry and she dropped her gaze so that he couldn’t see her face as she said, ‘can I tell you something?’

‘Course,’ he said quietly.

‘I was scared you were gonna die,’ she admitted. Her eyes were glassy when she finally looked up at her, gnawing on her lip before she said, ‘so when I saved you I wasn’t really thinking…I just knew I didn’t want to lose you and…’

Her breath hitched as she got to the middle of her sentence, taking whatever worries she’d been mulling over from being spoken into existence as she neared the verge of tears. Tangerine was sure it was just the booze talking but he felt the instinct to comfort her anyway, pulling her in for a hug as he said, ‘ey, I'm alright. I’m here aren’t I?’

Tangerine stroked her hair soothingly waiting for the tears to subside which they did after a moment or so though they left her eyes reddened as she pulled back and wiped at her nose, mumbling, ‘m’sorry.’

‘You okay?’ he asked, placing his hand on her cheek.

‘I’m fine,’ she nodded, ‘I just…I don’t know what I'd do without you.’

‘And Lemon?’ he asked, the way she’d singled him out making him feel as if he was under that spotlight again.

‘Tange,’ she said quietly as if he was missing the point.

Tangerine stared at her, those riveting blue eyes, and all of sudden he could feel his heart beating like it had been on stage. Only this had nothing to do with stage fright. This was due to the fact the words she spoke were truer than anything he'd ever heard. Because the truth was he didn’t know what he'd do without her either. She had become part of his family, part of him without him even realising.  Of course he loved Lemon and he had assumed that the love he had for her was the same but now, staring into her soul he felt like he’d been missing the point.

As if she’d truly had to walk right up to him and spelled out how he felt for her for him to get it.

‘Clem, I, I don’t know how to do this,’ he said hesitantly. After all, what if he had misread his feelings? What if he didn’t feel the way he thought he did and they did something they regretted. She was a good asset and he wouldn't want to lose her.

‘I do,’ she said, moving to wrap her arms around his neck as she pulled him down to kiss her.

His hands moved to her waist, holding her as she pulled him towards her and kissed him with a ferocity he didn’t know he’d been missing. It was like an explosion going off not only as sparks cascaded through his mind but because of how everything seemed to slot into place, their teasing, tension, care and passion blending into one perfect moment.

He was breathless and dazed when he pulled back, all of it taking him by surprise, and yet he still managed to smile as he found her grinning at him. He watched as she moved from his grasp, pushing her bedroom door open before she turned around and said, ‘okay, I’ve decided.’ ‘Decided?’ he asked, still struggling to make his brain work

‘What my last wish is,’ she said, offering a hand out for him to take, ‘wanna find out?’

‘Oh definitely,’ Tangerine said, moving into the room at rapid speed and kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

[antoinettedoodles]

Hi!!💞💕💞💕 I really love your art😭😭😭

Can I ask you to come up with a baby for them please?🥺👉👈 My Shishio and Epel! Ofc, if it is comfortable for you!!💗💗💗

Take care of your time~ I hope you have a wonderful day🥰🥰🥰

EYYYY HELLO, OYA— Nice to see Shioshio in my ask box 🤭 I was so excited to get into this because I had an amazing idea for ShiPel/EpeHio already- Hope you like it!

Ask Box

Yuusona x Canon Character Child

Meet Kitsu!

Shioshio x Epel Felmier

Personal Thoughts: O r a n g e

If Epel is an Apple, Kitsu is an orange, I dont make the rules and thus, made Kitsu everything orange like Papa Shio! And even chose a Japanese name for him! (Which literally means orange/tangerine), originally, I wanted Clementine but honestly, that can go to another ShiPel sibling (I know damn well Epel is gonna have a big family)

In terms of Dormitory, I cant decide whether I wanted Kitsu in Pomefiore or Heartslabyul but I like seeing him in red, so Heartslabyul it is!

˳೫˚∗ Please give a heart and follow if you like my work!

[captain-n-crunchies]

Oranges 🍊

Yuuta x Black Reader

Selling oranges wasn't a hard job, wasn't easy either. Oranges are a fruit that you won't pick out willingly but if you're in the mood an orange would be a quick choice; it was hot out today so anyone and everyone would be outside simply to enjoy the summer's weather, it was also a good day for a tiny pop-up festival to happen! Since it's the summertime they held a market pop-up event where people selling jewelry, hair care, and the most important part of any event food was out and about selling their fruits of leisure to the public. Every year it would held by the beach with people from all over Japan meeting by the shore, I was setting up my booth ' Everythingz Orange' from oranges, to mandarins, tangerines and sometimes depending on fruits of green like limes and things were litter across these shelves and tables; I had orange accessories too to earring, bracelets, even hair pieces and body products all handmade from your truly, reader!

As I put things around everywhere I see the crowd rushing in like the waves, I see them walk over to the people closer to the entrance which isn't very smart then, to people by good scenery who gets all the pictures the get people to buy anything they want, and then you have people like me who's placed by the shore for a nice watering breeze; people who come by this part stays longer and come back for more that's why I had to start selling orange drinks, snacks, ever finger foods. I make pretty god profit off these people every year, people came by to looks and see what orange things I could have it pretty surprising to see the looks on people's faces when they see I can make orange scented paper, cloth, even ting orange themed plushies.

" Wow!, You must love oranges to make a store out of it?"

" Yep! I grew up on an orange farm so, it practically in my blood now."

To the kids I make tiny crafts like pinwheels, orange peel dolls, etc. Today though would be the best pop-up year for me though when a boy with sad eyes disrespected oranges.

" Hm, oranges?"

A boy with curious eyes looks onto my sack or mandarins with a confused look.

" Well not exactly these are mandarins' kind of like oranges but, smaller and sweeter"

He looks between me and the mandarins with a quirked brow.

" But aren't they apart of the orange family?"

" Yes, but-"

" So, they are oranges."

I know sometimes the heat messes with people's brains but this right here, this is something else! I just looked at the boy with a tilted head and explains while yes, they are in the citrus family they are not like oranges they mostly like the little sister of an orange and not it's twin; he looks at me with those big eyes and just nods. He asked how much for three and I said $5, he buys the three and walks to a group of people by the ice cream shop...it's huge panda by them also I wonder if it's a cosplay?

*10 mintues later*

The sells today been pretty good! A nice older woman bought a pair of earrings and some clementines, a girl with a funky sense of style bought an orange plushie and a bunch of jewelry, and people bought the mandarins and oranges up! The boy walked by my both a few times to see other products or to show his friends the orange themed headphone cases I made in spare time. The sun started to set, and people died out slowly and the cool air settled in, I take a break to shop around seeing shops with different selling points was always my favorite part buying beads, flower seeds, and tiny toys was something I couldn't grow out of; as I walked I saw the boy again we brushed shoulders and I sent him a apologetic smile and continued walking without looking at him back, standing in line for a funnel cake order he comes back with a sheepish look.

" Oh hello, can I help you?"

" Oh yea! um...can I ask you a question?"

" Oh sure! What's up?"

" I couldn't get this off my mind but, what the difference between a clementine and a regular orange?"

To a normal person this is a regular question but when you've had people tell you that clementines are just oranges with a different growing method the topic is very bittersweet but, I tell him all the various differences between shape, taste, texture and etc. and by the time I'm done his eyes are bright and wide; he asks me why would I know all of these things and I tell him I grew up on an citrus farm growing oranges, clementines, limes and everything citrus. We walked along the boardwalk talking about our hobbies and how we are similar, he told me he goes to Tokyo Jujutsu High school just a few blocks down, I ask about the school, and he goes into how they just learn basic high school stuff but, with all the magical wizard stuff I didn't really get.

We walked back to my booth, and I handed him an clementine.

" Here, just so you know the difference."

His warm hand grabbed the fruit, and he peeled it, I took the peeling and within in a few seconds I made him a pinwheel, his eyes shined at the flavor of the fruit and tiny toy I just smiled and told him how to make one. I pulled him a chair and for what seems like minutes but really almost an hour we talked and ate some oranges and when his friends came over, we finished a whole sack full. Yuuta and I laughed over that, and exchange numbers and he went with his friends with a wave.

After a few more people came by to check things out I started to pack up my things when a peel of an ornage fell down from the table, and it read:

' I'm clemmy glad I've met you today. xoxo Yuuta'

With a smile on my face I texted him a pic of the orange peel with the caption

' Orange you glad you've met me? 😊'

Oranges, the fruit of heart.

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 7

seven. the scorpion: a refresher on compartmentalisation.

Summary: the scorpion tries hard to forget that she does still have reason to grieve the son. instead she tries to focus on finding his killer with tangerine. after running into another decoy, tangerine finally starts getting some of the explanations he believes he's owed.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 3876 words. i need you all to believe me when i say i think about this fic every single day of my life. things have been busy with holidays and family, but i will finish this fic or die trying. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, this was a lot of fun to write, i love channing tatum in this movie he's such a simp 10/10. let me know what you think!!

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

Chapter Warnings: mentions of nsfw

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

[ always open, just message or comment! ]

----

There was no time for a breakdown, not with the body in the carriage behind them, blood on her gloves, and her heart in grief's chokehold already. As glad as she was that Tangerine was finally grasping the severity of her situation, the situation loomed larger than his sudden revelation. So Clementine decides to postpone her impending breakdown for the few minutes before she dies, which she figures should be some time later today, since there's absolutely no way she'll be allowed to leave this damn train alive. 

And this time it really was out of her control!

"We are fucked, all three of us, completely fucked," Tangerine was reeling, piercing gaze upon her like he's seeing her for the first time all over again, "I know you know, it's just- fuck." There was no hostility in the way he was looking at her now, however, and it's enough for her to begin to compartmentalise, whilst also wondering how much The Son would have told him about Clementine's punishment for Tangerine to be reacting this strongly.

"We're fucked if we're not smart about this," voice warm and firm and unwavering, Clementine takes Tangerine's hand, grounds him back in the moment. It takes him half a second to adjust, to recentre and reassess, but he too is a professional, so it only takes moments to recalibrate his understanding of the situation with this new information.

"So we find the killer with the briefcase, and figure out where the fuck we go from there."

"The killer with the hat and the glasses?"

"Blonde fucker, American, bucket hat and Clark Kent-looking frames."

"You've seen him?"

"You haven't?"

Clementine shakes her head. Tangerine frowns for a moment, before he looks down at their joined hands for a beat.

"Your cover still hold up?"

"Excuse me?" Clementine, genuinely confused, tips her head slightly. Tangerine glances over her shoulder to the carriage they'd just left, to the body they'd just left behind.

"If you're going to be a liability you should stay with Lemon and him."

Liability; if they'd had time, Clementine may have been offended at the implication, might have bristled and responded with some kind of biting remark, but they don't, and she doesn't, because she understands why. His question was painfully justified, even if she didn't like it.

Just minutes ago he'd had a front row seat to the way she'd reacted, his hand in hers when she'd finally laid eyes on The Son in that state, had been barely a foot away as she'd been trying to act as though she could still hear her own heartbeat over the white noise in her ears. She couldn't touch him. She could barely look at him. He could have been sleeping if it wasn't for the angle they'd found him at, or the clearly broken nose. How many times had he fallen asleep on her shoulder just like that in the back of Ubers over the years they'd known each other?

And the first time, still a teenager, still new to the country, still new even to modern society, she'd tried to take his pulse, afraid something was wrong. He'd moved her hand but didn't bother to let go, but groaned like it was a chore to move and lay across the back seat with his head in her lap when she couldn't keep her shoulders still enough. 

His dark hair had been short against the uncomfortable, sequinned material of the dress she'd been provided, the dress that didn't even come halfway down her thighs, the dress she'd tried to complain about since she didn't think she could fight in properly if the need arose - she'd been told who gives a shit? The dress looked pretty when she showed up in the back of photos, and it looked pretty there, against the black, leather back seats with her boss's son using her as a pillow. 

Clementine looks at their hands when he settles, their fingers linked and resting on his chest. Why, she wants to ask, why, but keeps her mouth shut and accepts this like she accepts these counterintuitive clothes, his head pillowed against her thighs, and the soft, informal Russian he speaks only in these tired moments they share, alone. 

For a long moment, The Son's gaze searches her face, taking in her blank expression and careful way she was holding herself.

"You're such a fucking alien," he sighed finally, seemingly frustrated. After a moment he closes his eyes again, settling against her thighs, "can you at least pretend to be a person when I have to be around you?"

That first time, she'd tried awkwardly hummed the only song she remembered from her childhood he'd about woken up to tell her how much he hated it, that his father would sing it to his brat of a sister, but the second time, when she does it on purpose, smiling and giggling the way she'd seen his other lady friends do when they were teasing him, when he squints up at her, it makes him laugh and call her a bitch with fondness. 

She had been so good at pretending she had no good memories of him, that she never cared about him, that he wasn't part of the reason that she was the way she was, but his corpse was right there. That melody had been stuck in the back of her throat from the moment she re-entered the carriage, like she wanted to sing it, hoping he'd wake up just to tell her to shut up. She'd had to get away from him, had to begin to compartmentalize, had to push those thoughts and fears back beside her postponed breakdown.

So she focused on the moment at hand, on Tangerine.

Despite everything that had transpired already, he's still willing to work with her, still willing to consider her an ally in this moment. Even a sliver of his trust and understanding in this moment felt like a miracle. Whatever he'd learned about how she lost her fingers, it was enough for him to believe that she'd never want to be implicated like that again; he cared far more than he'd ever admit, perhaps even beyond his better judgement, he always had. It was one of the first things she'd learned about him, and one of the few things she'd downplayed in her report about him, though at the time she wasn't sure why... 

Clementine had never struggled to find parts of Tangerine to fall in love with, even now.

"I'll follow you as long as you'll have me." 

She watches in real time as he processes this, her words, her smile, the sincerity in her voice, and then watches the tell-tale twitch of his eye as he refuses to engage on any kind of deeper level, turning, hand still holding hers. It's enough for him to be sure, at least for the time being. He doesn't actually believe her, he might not ever; there's something that felt almost like disappointment as she considered that. 

It's the start of another spiral, to realise that he must think she'd been lying to him all through New York as well; while her intentions had not been pure, she'd still been operating under the assumption that she'd never have to see him after the mission concluded, so she had no reason to put all the effort into concocting an entirely new identity. Had she danced around the truth? Lied by omission? Certainly, but very few of the things she'd actually said were complete lies. 

Another impulse she pushed down was the desire to ask about it, to clarify; it wouldn't help anyone. Maybe if they got the chance later, perhaps a deathbed confession - 

Keep focus, she reminded herself. Tangerine was leading, considering he knew who exactly they were looking for, and so Clementine wore a bright, vacant expression as she trotted along behind him, gaze roaming the carriage, assessing the situation. However, when Tangerine's free hand finally goes to the small of his back when they're a carriage and a half away from Lemon and The Son, Clementine becomes acutely aware of the gun tucked securely into the back of her own waistband, hidden beneath her now untucked sweater. 

"Fuck-" Tangerine spits under his breath with sudden panic as he began to slow, but immediately Clementine gives his hand a squeeze.

"Baby, is everything okay?" 

"Unfortunately not, sweetheart, I'm missing something important," confused, frustrated gaze meeting Clementine's, and the poignant look she gave him.

"I picked up something that looked important," she said brightly, despite the surreptitious look over Tangerine was giving her, "come on, let's not block the aisle, I can show you in that little area between carriages, hopefully it's your important thing!" Clementine gives his hand another squeeze. His frown deepens, but he keeps going once more. 

"Before you ask -" Clementine begins, the minute the door closes behind them, her expression having already dropped to a displeased frown.

"Good, because you know I was going to -" Tangerine interrupts, quietly furious.

"It was just habit," it's a half truth, which clearly irritates Tangerine as he easily surmises the events that lead her to having it. They both know the only time he had properly lost focus on her every movement was the kiss. Clementine quickly continues to explain, pulling out the gun itself, "I assumed you could take care of yourself without it," she doesn't even have to think about what she says for it to come out manipulatively, but -

"Well considering you said you wouldn't need help to steal from me, I'm sure you could always take it back once I'm done," Tangerine fires back without even missing a beat, relieving Clementine of the weapon in her grip. To her credit, Clementine doesn't argue; honestly she's a little impressed he'd even remembered she'd said that. 

"It's gonna cause a scene," Clementine added after a beat as he headed for the next door. The minute they'd entered the vestibule she'd clocked a thin, metallic object jutting through the door, probably jamming it, but she keeps that to herself, wondering how long it'd take him to figure out. If he wanted to lead he'd have to put in the effort. 

"Only if it goes off." The door is definitely jammed. Tangerine tries to brute force it for a moment, but it doesn't properly budge. He looks to the gun and glances at Clementine for the barest moment, expression sour, "you couldn't have kept that plush fucker I gave you?" Clementine can't help but be amused at the immediate ironic payoff. 

"I'll find another one," she knows her tone betrays her amusement, and Tangerine narrows his eyes.

"You better, or I'll use you as a sound dampener," he threatens.

"You could use my sweater."

"No catharsis in shooting just a sweater." 

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Can you shut the fuck up and get me a fuckin' silencer?"

"Yes, sir," there's something strange about being able to laugh in this moment, Clementine's well aware of that, or at least, the thought is in the back of her mind. Still, she stifles a giggle in the face of her now-partner's irritation, slipping back into the carriage they'd just left. She gets around two steps in before she sees a sleeping child clutching another Mononga plush. The child doesn't even stir when Clementine eases it from her grip and takes it back to Tangerine. 

The plush makes an adequate enough silencer, and finally the door gives way. 

Tangerine continued to lead, Clementine continued her her show of being the silly, pretty girlfriend as she assesses the carriage before them. It's a sea of indifference, with the occasional pair of eyes on them as they continue to pull focus, mostly from those near them, near the entrance of the carriage. Each she makes note of; a majority with dark hair and dark eyes, and a rakish blonde who averts his blue-eyed gaze just as quickly as the others, even as Clementine gives him a toothy grin. Tangerine's attention, however, is caught by the sight of a bucket hat halfway along. 

There's the flash of plastic-framed glasses, and his head is distinctly bowed; a dead giveaway for someone trying to lay low.  

"Sweetheart," Tangerine says pointedly, in case Clementine's focus hadn't already been drawn to the target matching their perpetrator's description. 

Tangerine stops, while she breezes past him in an instant, falling into the role he suspected her to be in the first place. Distraction.

"Oh, hi, sorry there!" With a bright giggle and vacant smile, she flops into the empty seat across from their hat wearing target with aplomb. Their target greets her with stuttered, half-sentences and startled blue eyes, a nondescript jacket, his tell-tale hat, and thick, black glasses, "I've been up and down this train looking for my friend, you don't mind if I rest here for a moment?" And before he can even answer she's popping the top few buttons of her collared undershirt, then pulling at the tie around her neck, loosening it and giving an affirmative nod, not to anyone in particular, but one she knows Tangerine will see as a confirmation. The target is holding a book, both hands visible, and no luggage within reach; he was a sitting duck. 

"Sure, you- uh, sure-" before the target can even finish a full sentence, there's a gun to his temple and Tangerine's voice in his ear. 

"And it looks like we found you, big boy," he growls, and the target visibly swallows, eyes going, if possible, even wider.

"Now, friend," Clementine says with a sudden change in tone, voice now low and tone poisonously sweet, "you're going to make this nice and easy, and let us know where the case is, so there won't be any," she pauses, narrows her eyes just slightly, gaze focused on his, cocking her head to the side for just a moment, "undue force applied."

The target looks between Clementine, who'd successfully removed her tie and had it wrapped with menacing poise around the knuckles of both her hands, and Tangerine, who was easing around to face him. 

"Okay," the target sounds forcibly calm, focusing once more on Clementine, on the tie stretched taught in her grip, now beginning to fidget with his own book, "I could be okay- I mean, I am okay with- with you- both of you- this the sex stuff, right?" Wait, why does he sound hopeful? 

"The fuck -?" Tangerine's confusion turns to immediately frustrated understanding as a loud cracksparkpop of noise draws their attention to the other end of the carriage, as does a shout by a passenger who had been apparently passing through when the ruckus began.

Their target had been a damn decoy! Tangerine swears as he stormed off to investigated, and Clementine follows, ignoring the decoy's growing look of appreciation as he calls out to them both -

"You guys are so take-charge, I love that!" 

Clementine would laugh if they had even half the time, but she knows how to read the room well enough, and keeps her mouth shut as she shadows Tangerine. She can hear the frightened passenger as he scurries down the hall away from the disturbance, so she does a full assessment of the situation, takes in the sight of the firecrackers scattered about haphazardly, and is disappointed to realise, just as Tangerine appears to, that they were merely an effective distraction, before she checks over her shoulder. There's people out of their seats by the time Clementine checks again, people curious about the disturbance, people up and searching for a staff member, people moving and shifting and disrupting her mental map of the carriage. Fuck.

"I don't like this," Clementine raises her voice as she whines, clutching at Tangerine's arm, her tie still in one hand, and bag in her other, by her side, careful to keep his gun and the jacket concealing it pressed firmly to her to keep them secure, "let's go back, baby, please." And she bounces insistently as she tugs him away, back the way they came. 

"'course, sweetheart," Tangerine mumbles angrily, expression drawn as he lets Clementine lead the way. They both ignore the look of growing appreciation their decoy gave them as they passed him in a hurry. 

"Should'a fucking known," Tangerine hisses between his teeth. He's still close enough that she can hear his barely-whispered frustration. When she makes a noise for him to elaborate, he makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat, "that look in his eyes was just like when I met you." 

"He was kind of cute -"

"Wasn't a compliment."

"Well since I too was going for fuck-me-eyes when we met -"

"Your mission reports must read like letters to Penthouse."

"Scorching hot, timely reference," she tries to keep her tone light and teasing, but there's something about the sharpness of Tangerine's words, this line of discussion, that has the tension rising in her, "it depends on if it's relevant to the job."

"And you get to decide what's relevant." He doesn't even look at her. She knows what he wants to know.

"Yeah, I'm the judge, jury, and executioner for people's kinks," playing it off with a goofy, sarcastic laugh, adding cheerfully, if quickly, "your secrets are safe with me, if it matters," as they continued to power back to Lemon and the corpse of The Son, "I mentioned only the first of our... encounters." She punctuates the word with a secretive smile and giggle, as if to throw off any who may hear her in passing, taking a moment before looking at him, "why would I bore them with weeks of irrelevant information?"

"Irrelevant," he turned the word over on his tongue with obvious distaste, "what did you share?" He still asked coldly.

"Upsettingly invasive psychological profiles, assessments of physical capabilities, reliability, liabilities," she answers, jarringly candid, "same as I provided about your brother." She added pointedly, "same as I've provided about countless individuals in our line of work. But you should have guessed that."

"You work for your name, don't you?" Tangerine's lip curls, and Clementine gives an exasperated smile, hanging her head.

"Fucking Scorpion," she mumbles almost ruefully.

"Fuckin' Scorpion," Tangerine echoes coldly. Then, after several long moments, they slow to a stop in the vestibule they'd shot their way through initially. Crowding her against the luggage, out of the view of the carriage window, Tangerine keeps her in place with a firm hand on her collar, "did you fuck my brother?" 

There's something in his eyes that Clementine knows all too well, a cocktail of betrayal and disbelief, like he's already jumped to his own conclusions. Still, his questions surprises her considering she knows how the brothers communicate. She was aware that there was no way she'd be able to sustain secret, physical relationships with both Lemon and Tangerine at the same time in New York. Besides, she'd always tailored her information gathering methods to their individual targets.  

Immediately she's searching the area with her eyes, trying to discern if there's a motive for his sudden intrigue, if there's a reason he's trying to keep her here. One of his fingers curls around the dainty, golden chain of her necklace, and she focuses back in on him, on the look in his eyes. She wants to ask why, but doesn't think Tangerine's ready to admit that yet.

"You invited me into your room, Tangerine," Clementine murmurs instead, "you hit on me, you made sure I knew your intentions. You set the pace. You gave the orders. You," Clementine refused to break eye contact, smiling as she went through the memories, "fucked me, Tangerine, you enjoyed yourself, you kept calling. All I did was everything you asked. All I had to do was say yes."

"That wasn't the question." 

"No," the smile she wears is sharp, is knowing, "I never fucked Lemon." 

But he doesn't quite let her go; he has more questions but can't seem to find his voice, so she goes on -

"How long has it been since you were allowed to get attached to someone who wasn't your brother?" Clementine's question is all at once both barbed and sincere. They're close enough that she can see his surprise in his eyes, even if his expression doesn't change, "Lemon needed a friend who listened to him, but you -" she took a deep breath, gaze searching his face, gauging any kind of reaction, wondering if he'd already figured all this out, "there was something so convenient about the cute girl at the front desk who clearly liked you, wasn't there? Maybe something more fulfilling, even if it was only for a month, than one night stands who don't even know your name. You didn't even need to commit to loving her back -"

"You can quit psychoanalysing me," Tangerine gives her a faint shove, stepping back, "fucker was right." He can't look at her, so why did she think she could see disappointment in his eyes.

"On the rare occasions he decides he gives a shit, he usually is," Clementine mused, making an educated guess on the 'fucker' in question considering The Son's penchant for badmouthing her given any chance. Gaze trained on the floor, her expression fell after a moment, "was," she corrects herself, voice softer. Then, the more she turned it over in her mind, she finds it strange that this revelation would shock him; "if we're taking a moment, can I ask you something?"

"No."

"You've asked a lot of questions, I think it's fair."

"Nothing about this is fair."

"I'm going to ask it anyways."

"I wish you wouldn't."

Clementine is quiet, which seems to surprise Tangerine, who opens his eyes to look at her with confusion.

"What?"

"I don't need to ask, if it's that much trouble." 

Tangerine narrows his eyes at her.

"Wish you'd stop that too."

"Stop what?"

"Talking me into feeling responsible for things you want me to do, making me feel like they're my idea, like asking you to ask your question anyway." 

Clementine had even been conscious of how she'd been attempting to manipulate him in this moment, but she can see she was; there was a script she'd been expecting him to follow, and he'd seen through her show of thoughtful respect. Taking a deep breath, she forgets her question. Squaring her shoulders, she speaks;

"If it means anything, I bugged your room before you'd even arrived, I knew when you were coming and going, I had a key."

"Thanks, that makes it worse," Tangerine says dryly. He's not listening to her.

"I'm not going to hand you answers, operative," when Clementine softens her voice, she wants to beg Tangerine to actually think about what she's saying, to just take one single moment to connect the neon dots she's been laying out for him; she can't say it outright, but she'd stopped lying to him the minute she'd seen The Son's body. No sense in it any more, "I need you to see understand, I want you to understand," she murmurs, gaze searching his face, soft and open, another hint, "but I need you to ask the right questions."

"What, pray-fucking-tell, are the right questions then?"

This is the moment Clementine falls back into character; her smile grows bright and teasing, the sparkle returns to her eyes. She takes Tangerine's hand and leads him to the door.

"Oh, baby, you'll never get a satisfying answer if you start all your questions like that."

[gluion]

of guitar strings and peeled tangerines (i'll bruise my fingers just for you) ➵ masterlist

non-idol!jacob bae x reader, slight non-idol!ji changmin x reader

when you are unable to continue living in the city, you are forced to move back to the small provincial town you begged to stay away from. but when you come face-to-face with the reliable village co-chief, jacob bae, you learn that your stay won’t be so pleasant after all. 

general genre/warnings ➵ childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn, slice of life, angst, but also fluff!, afab reader (they/them pronouns), hurt/comfort, a lot of flashbacks, being lost (and trying to figure things out) in your late 20s, a lot of trauma that stem from mommy issues, themes of grief, forgiveness, and pressure to succeed, jacob writes songs to reader and reader peels tangerines for jacob (hence the title), juhaknyeon has witnessed your relationship with jacob from blossoming to downfall to reigniting stages, ji changmin is the second lead (i am so sorry), taking care of jacob because he gets sick :’), you and jacob end up working at your father's restaurant together!!, your dad has a lot of regret & wants to take care of you to make up for both his and your mom's mistakes, kissing, cuddling, suggestive themes

word count for official parts ➵ projected to be 40-60k words (oops? lets see if i stick with it)

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @tbzhub

playlist ➵ dreams, books, power and walls by jannabi // slow down by laufey // for lovers by lamp // dried flower by wave to earth // behind the moon shadow by lamp // i'm your man by mitski // my mother and i by lucy dacus // what used to be mine by faye webster // hagupit by ichiko aoba // kodoku by mei semones // matilda by harry styles // when you love someone by day6 // francis forever by mitski // right side of my neck by faye webster // nan chun by se so neon // kind of (type of way) by faye webster // regent's park by bruno major // dreams (demo) by grentperez // let you break my heart again by laufey // class of 2013 by mitski // happiness by taylor swift // clementine by grentperez // in a good way by faye webster // absence of you by grentperez // ripples by beabadoobee // araw-araw by ben&ben // sweet decay by chasu // sunny days by wave to earth // glue song by beabadoobee

a/n ➵ finally introducing the one work i've been very excited to release!!! this idea has been sitting with me even before i wrote “of linked arms and bruised hearts (you are the reason i keep on going)” :OO i hope you come along with me in this journey!! i would really appreciate it if you could take the time to reblog this!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

official parts ➵ one

when you are unable to continue staying in the city, you are forced to move back to the small provincial town you begged to stay away from. but when you come face-to-face with the reliable village co-chief, jacob bae, you learn that your stay won’t be so pleasant after all. 

➵ two (coming late january-early february)

jacob makes it clear that he wants nothing with you anymore. after that argument, you share the sentiments. but would peeled tangerines make him hear you out?

➵ three (coming late march-mid april)

you've finally come to terms that the corporate life isn't for you. with that, you decide to work part-time in your dad's restaurant. now, there's no way to escape jacob—and absolutely no way to escape rekindled feelings.

➵ four (coming early may-mid june)

as you take a trip to the outskirts of town, you have to come face-to-face with everything you've kept buried the past years. and although it may be scary, you're glad that you're coming to terms with them—all thanks to time and your best friend.

drabbles/oneshots

coming soon...

note that number of chapters, titles, release dates, and and synopses are subject to change

[sun-darling]

Its been a while.

i apologize if it seemed like i am miserable, I know i promised i would move on. I even made a confident remark that this is not my first rodeo, how arrogant of me hahahaha and i think i probably did a good job of doing so for at least a month—or so i thought. It's been months since I've listened to my "On trance" playlist, I haven't even been adding the new songs i found on it because i was trying my best to avoid it. I convinced myself it's because the "Liked Songs" playlist was much more convenient—but really most of the songs there reminded me of you. (And it seemed as though the universe is pulling a prank on me, the song shuffled to J's Lullaby as i am writing this). As i was going through the playlist again, it felt like im going through a box of chocolates, and with every bite a part of you came to resurface. I had tried to not think about what you looked like, how you smelled like, how you felt like and every god damned memory we ever had because that was the only way i could help myself. But when i listened to these songs i caught the edge of your sweet scent, your annoyingly smug smile, the moles on your cheek that seems to look like the tres marias and everything that you are. I remembered promising to make you the happiest girl with the song:

I remembered our very first date at gnar.co where you smugly teased me with all the songs that you have found as if to rub your victory over finding them first, insomnia was one of them and it stuck to me as you said it reminded you of me, i felt my heart doing a tap dance then. And ever since then The Moss was a band that grew on me.

I remember holding your hand to the song:

And i made a remark on how soft and smooth your hands were and funnily, your reply was "let me guess, its an indication of someone who doesn't do chores right?" I was taken so aback because i really did just appreciate its beauty because contrary to yours, mine was veiny and has a lot of scars from getting into lot of fights back in the day.

I remember you telling me how much you wanted to learn how to ride a bike when you brought up this song:

And much to my regret i had not gotten the chance to teach you despite bragging about my oh so amazing capability to teach.

And this song was the very last you sent me,

i still remember feeling all kilig as i listen to the lyrics. You were back in your hometown aurora and you sending me this had me over cloud 9.

And of course the song:

Which became our theme song. This haunted me even in my dreams you know? Nyahahhaha.

There are a lot of songs that reminds me of you, i lie still in my bed listening to every tune with my eyes shut and as the song ends and the music fades, you were gone again.

But you'll always still be a part of me. yesterday lyanne, a classmate of mine asked me if calico cats really were all females, and i was surprised why of all people she would ask me. Apparently she heard from zion that i told him calico cats were all females and zion couldn't recall why they were all females so she came to ask me to explain why and i explained it exactly how you explained it to me—that calico cats are predominantly females because cat's coloring are related to their chromosomes and to have 3 colors you'd need 2 X chromosomes.

And I've never really thought much about classifying oranges, but you taught me that clementines are the small ones and tangerines are less sweet with tougher skins. It's become one of my random fun facts, like how I always mention the calico cat fact whenever I spot one with someone I haven't told yet.

I hate and love how much you left behind of yourself with me, you were my Alaska Young, and to quote her favorite line "how will I ever get out of this labyrinth" but you and my feelings for you is my labyrinth. And I'll be Miles Halter that is doomed to forever dread over what could've been or the "The Great Perhaps"

[storges-oranges]

About me & this blog:

🌸 You can call me citrus or clem, She/her, I'm in my 20s so MDNI

🌸 This is a place I use to talk about my current interests and shitpost sometimes. Don't expect anything too grand on here. That being said....

🌸 THIS BLOG INTERACTS WITH DARK CONTENT. I will do my best to tag everything appropriately but please keep that in mind and ofc tell me if anything is missing.

🌸 Current faves aka what you'll most likely see me talking about on here :

Touchstarved Game

The Kid at The Back VN

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) Game

Dungeon Meshi

Arcane

🌸 Common tags:

#tangerine madness : where the madness resides, a mix of deeply unserious ramblings and posts.

#clementine litt 🍊 : For reblogs and personal posts containing quotes from various litterary works.

Masterlist??? kinda sorta???? :

🌸 Drabbles and HCs:

You'll never recover from that kind of devotion (Touchstarved x Hound MC. ft Ais,Kuras and Vere) mind the warnings please.

Cheering you up (Touchstarved x MC. ft Mhin, Vere and Leander) slight gore with Vere's part.

Mhin checking in on you (Mhin x MC)

Your blorbos are all the same !!!!!! (Vere and Astarion shitpost academically relevant discussion)

🌸 Web weaves (or collages, or attempts at collages):

Accross Hundreds of separaring years (Kuras)

Thisle and "Foreward Beckon Rebound" by Adrienne Lenker

[enoaoverprinting]

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