Brad Pitt X Reader - Blog Posts

me after saying i’d get tasks done but i’ve just been reading fanfiction for the past 3 hours:

“I can fix him!”

Him:

FUCK YOUR LIFE'S PERCEPTION

TYLER DURDEN X READER

⚠️Warnings: swearing ⚠️

Just a short drabble. Tyler tells you he cares about you. That's about it.

Tyler's cigarette smoke rose up from the end of his cancer stick and drifted up towards the ceiling of the non-ventilated room. The green paint was peeling in tremendous amounts and the stains from water damage were evident. The smoke curled in cylindrical spirals and kissed the chipping paint almost as if inviting it to fall to the floorboards below; which conveniently, were also subject to the same damage from the water above.

You laid in silence next to him, watching the sights from above and playing with the hem of your shitty Goodwill shirt that had been unraveling due to hasty scissor cuts you'd made the night before upon realizing it was longer in length than you'd originally wanted it. You were both in desperate need of a shower and while not bathing might've fit the aesthetic of Paper Street, it did not go over well anywhere else.

Motioning towards his pocket, Tyler silently offers you one of the cigarettes he has. The container itself only held two of them while the rest of the semi empty box has a couple of bloodied tissues stuffed into it's crevices and a haiku from you which read:

"Tyler, that bitch boy, God I love that man to death, shut the fuck up please." You had given it to him for his birthday and was quite proud of it to say the least. He looked at it, laughed, and then stuffed it into the very same pocket he had just withdrawn it from. The smoke was fading now, trying desperately on a fight against the house to find an open window or a vent to no avail.

Taking a cigarette for yourself, you allow him to light it. The drag was long and slow and you felt your lungs fill up with what you presumed would eventually kill you.

"A lot on your mind?" The leather jacket-clad man asked with a twinge of a smile, growing fond of your company over the past few weeks. Ever since he'd offered his services to you at Lou's while you were working, you'd grown attached to him. The night you guys fucked and laid in bed afterwards talking about how soap was the yardstick of civilization and how there should be more methods of shaving for women, you knew you couldn't just be fuck buddies. Your emotions with Tyler ran deep.

"Yeah, something like that." You said, blowing the smoke out and watching it meet the rest of the clouded air above. It was soothing in a way. Almost as comforting as a hug if you liked them.

"Wanna go for a walk?" He asked, knowing that was your favorite past time when you had plaguing thoughts. Sighing at his perfectness, you agree by getting up from the magazines you had plopped yourself down on on the floor. Placing your hands behind your back, you lean back and crack it with a satisfied hum escaping your lips. Tyler joins you and picks up his red tinted glasses on preparation for the outside.

"How'd you know?" You ask, walking out towards the door leading to the kitchen and eventually to the mud puddle infested streets of the lower income street you resided on with your boyfriend.

"Know what? That you were angry?" He asked smugly, walking after you with that confident manly sort of walk that only pricks seem to have.

"Yeah." You said, shivering once your foot stepped out the door. The shit shirt (as you referred to it as) was only making matters worse considering how thin the material was.

Upon your sudden fixation with the cold, your boyfriend took off his leather jacket and placed it over your shoulders in an attempt at comforting you. It wasn't entirely warm, but it would do.

"I feel like life is just getting worse. Everything is a downward spiral and we're all just inevitably spiraling with it. There's nothing to live for. We're all consumed by the media that tells us to kill ourselves. Nothing is right." You eventually admitted to Tyler who was preparing another cigarette from his pocket. Grinning, it seemed as though he liked your response considering how he didn't have to pry the information out of you.

"You sure you don't just need a shower?" He asked, walking alongside you purposely going through all the puddles accompanying the sidewalk you were on. He was strange like that. You were sure there was a poetic meaning to it as there always seems to be, but you didn't feel like figuring it out in this moment.

"Well, that too. But I'm serious, Tyler. Everything is shitting on everything else."

"I agree with you. The world is chaotic and terrible and beyond redemption. Humans redeeming themselves? Forget about it."

"Exactly. It's just-"

"-but there are some good things."

You stopped in your tracks. Did Tyler just contradict his every statement? He's always rambling on about the terrors of the world the unfortunateness of the human condition. It's always the media that's cynical. Down with the patriarchy. Everything sucks. Why was he disagreeing with you now?

"What do you mean by good things?" You asked, genuinely curious by his change in demeanor.

"I say fuck your life's perception. You're entirely right about everything. The world is beyond saving. People are dying everyday and the rich get away with murder. We're slaves to the television. But- there are some things worth living for."

Curious, you give Tyler that look which reads "what are you going on about?" In an urge for him to continue. The puddles stopped the closer and closer you guys made it to town and his shoes eventually stopped making the rubbery squeaking noises of clothing material hitting water. Gravel replaced the mud and Tyler started to kick the stray rocks beneath his feet.

"Like what?" You ask.

"Like soap. Literature. Arson. Bagel Bites. You." He says, matter of fact as if he didn't have to think of the answer at all. He was such a a badass, seeing the world for the way it was; grimy and worthless. He taught life lessons to the space monkeys he kept in the basement of Paper Street. There was no special little snowflake attitude about him. He was solely the most interesting and intelligent human being. From the way he wore his clothes to the way he treated everyone else. The way he smoked and the way he preferred baths over showers. He was always the first to willingly touch the city subway railings not caring if he got sick. He blew shit up for fun. And now he was telling you that you were something good about his life, something that he valued so little.

"You- you mean it?"You ask, reaching for his hand now that the sidewalk was level.

"About what I said in regards to Bagel Bites?" He joked with a knowing smile. "Of course."

"No, asshole. About me."

"Oh," he pretended to think for a moment, "yes."

Headcannons I Have For Ladybug & Tangerine:

Ladybug X Reader, Tangerine X Reader

Just a little filler while I wait for creativity to hit me enough to write the second part of Lady Luck. Here is a little drabble for you guys 💛

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos ⚠️

.🐞🐞🐞 L A D Y B U G 🐞🐞🐞.

Let's be real, this guy is such a fucking asshole so any chance he gets to annoy you, he'll take it. Whether that be pulling your socks halfway off your feet while you're laying down or pushing your hat down in front of your eyes when you're walking, this guy loves getting an annoyed grunt from you.

Your relationship together is very much a playful one. I see Ladybug as someone who would have to be really good friends with someone before things got more serious.

The two of you bicker like a married couple over really stupid things.

"Babe, where'd you put my wasabi peas?"

"Up your ass along with that shitty bucket hat of yours."

Ladybug is also the type to be overly comfortable with PDA. Don't get me wrong, this man just adores being able to hold your hand or move the hair out of your eyes, but if he's given the opportunity for a quickie in the train bathroom, he'd be stoked. Especially considering how cool Japanese toilets are.

He'll ask you to pay for his snacks. This applies to everywhere though.

You're aware of the fact he's a secret agent, but you never pry into it too much. You allow him his space and he allows you yours.

On the off-chance you're also an agent, you'll opt to work together as partners whenever you can.

He vows to protect you.

You vow to protect him.

.🍊🍊🍊 Tangerine 🍊🍊🍊.

Tangerine is definitely the more romantic type, whomever he's in love with will always feel a watchful eye over them in an overprotective way. It's not uncomfortable, more so just an unannounced presence.

He falls in love and he does so fast. He's very much a hopeless romantic and he's willing to put aside his wiseness when making decisions if it comes to someone whom he's interested in romantically.

That being said, he's also very lovey-dovey I'm public. You won't tend to get a whole lot of laughs from him but he will give you his blazer when it's cold and will hold your hand when the time allows for it. He's comfortable in a sense where he can let people know you're his, but he doesn't show any crazy efforts of PDA like Ladybug.

He complains a lot so he wants someone to balance it out with smiles and affectionate hugs.

"Hello, lovely. I apologize for being in such a mood, but as it turns out I might actually fucking die."

"That's okay, I'll give you so many hugs it'll l create a protective forcefield."

He lets you wear his cologne

He expects you to get along well with Lemon; if his person of interest doesn't do so, then they're out of the picture for good.

Lemon does like you though, I mean, you're important to his brother. So, you don't have to worry too much about that.

💛💛💛💛

brad pitt fic recs

~~~

personal faves - 🗽

thats^^ more of a personal indictor for me <3 i love all these fics SO much

~~~

darling brad

bike rides and cigarettes by @hobisfavoritespritecan 🗽

see you later by @all-lit-up 🗽

what it would be like dating brad pitt by @all-lit-up

cliff booth

you're safe here by @tiredbeebo 🗽

dating cliff would include... by @fangirl-imagines

the stuntman and the singer by @companionjones

blueberries and cigarettes by @hobisfavoritespritecan

following all by @darling-i-read-it

sleep

scars 🗽

aldo "the apache" raine

thank you by @motelgirl 🗽

confident by @michelle-is-writing

distance by @mlmxreader 🗽

gift by @mlmxreader 🗽

worried fates by @darling-i-read-it 🗽

warm enough by @michelle-is-writing

following all by @sergeant-donny-donowitz

hey lover

goodnight 🗽

tristan ludlow

creek getaway by @darling-i-read-it 🗽

braided flowers by @darling-i-read-it

joe black

coffee pot by @darling-i-read-it 🗽

enchanted by @darling-i-read-it

Heyo Panko Shrimps!

It's been a hot minute since I've updated everyone with what's going on and what I have for new releases. I miss you all so much and I'm so sorry for my inactivity, I have been so busy with college.

Everything has been going great!! I've made so many friends and have gone to so many parties, I haven't had the time to get to writing. However, there will definitely be more to come.

I love you all so dearly and thank you for being so patient! Lady Luck part two should be coming soon!

Hello I need bullet train fic like I need air thank you

Me too, I'm so in love with Bullet Train, prepare yourself because I'll be writing more fics!!

💛🦐

Yessss you’re writing for bullet train! Do you take requests for Ladybug?

YES ABSOLUTELY OMG

Send me your wildest dreams, I'm going to write a shit ton of Bullet Train fics!!!!

💛🦐

•LADY LUCK•

LADYBUG X READER X TANGERINE

Having to work with the most annoying person on the planet, your feelings for Mr. Bucket Hat definitely change the longer you're forced to be around him. But what happens when you end up in a killing spree free-for-all and the British guy from the next compartment over decides he has the hots for you too?

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of blood and gore, Sexual Innuendos, Mentions of weapons, Mentions of death ⚠️

Part One!!!

"You're in, Mantis."

The deep voice over your earpiece came through clear and curt as you made your way over to the train car you'd be stationed in until the mission was completed. Leaving the station, the bullet train made its way out of Tokyo and you could see the bright lights starting to dim as it pushed on towards the less populated portions of the city. You weren't phased by the sudden acceleration of the train as you had been on one of these a few years back when you'd been scouted for the team.

Thinking back to the night you were scouted to work under The White Death, you smiled at the memory. A train moving so fast that one would expect it to be safe from gunmen and their attempts at running a Cartel. Your family had watched in horror as the men infiltrated the train and held a couple people hostage, ready to use their lives for their own personal benefit. You were so stupid back then; a naivety that of which only comes with the contemptness of lifestyle. A younger version of yourself with less experience with this whole secret agent thing. You ended up saving your brother, three at the time, by turning the gun back onto the first person you’d ever killed. The White Death had been on that train and offered to free you from any charges you would face for murder if you had agreed to work under him. So, without much of a choice, you swore yourself to secrecy and began your work, never making it back home to spend time with the family members you had saved. You thought of them from time to time and how the news of your disappearance would have affected them. Not knowing if you made it out of that shitshow alive, that sort of thing. If only they hadn’t been captured by the same gunmen you joined The White Death to kill.  

The man’s face still haunted your dreams. A gruesome imagination and a harsh grin plastered over his older face. A giant scar ran across the bottom of his chin and made its way up to his nose, stopping directly under his tired but blood-thirsty eyes. 

"How much money is in the briefcase?" You asked Wyatt, the person who had been speaking to you over the small intercom. He had been assigned as your Handler from the White Death himself and he very much hated this position. It was your first day back on the job after helping to clean up the Bolivia incident.  

"Enough to pay ransom for that idiotic stupid family of yours." He said, becoming cross with you within a matter of seconds it seemed. You wished it was easier to connect with your partner, but he had made it very clear from the get-go that there wasn't going to be any friendly aspects of the job.

“Ironic how you say ‘idiotic’ and ‘stupid’ in the same sentence considering how redundant that is.” You snapped back, sliding into one of the empty seats that were furthest away from everyone else. A window seat in the back provided you with the perfect view of a few of the platforms you'd be hitting and the places you'd encounter on your trip. The seats were an uncomfortable upholstery and were colored a terrible blue which you assumed was to be calming but it was far from it. The rest of the fucking compartment was that hideous color that one only looks at with fondness once they reach their last stop of the night. The time when one would part ways with the train and all of the single-serving people they were forced to interact with while they waited to finally make it to wherever they needed to go. Leaving the train and knowing you wouldn't have to see that god-awful color again until your next boarding.

Taking a quick glance around your compartment, you take out your computer and paperwork to make it seem as though you were on a business trip. In a way, you were, but people wouldn't think anything of you talking into an earpiece if there looked to be a reason someone was calling. Sticking the gun from the corner of your pocket into the crevice between the wall of the train and the seat, you try your absolute hardest to get comfortable until the next stop, when you knew you would have to act fast and run to the baggage area without suspicion. Assuming that’s where the case would be. You hoped you would be able to take it without much of a fight... you were tired of cleaning up the aftermath of people not giving you your way. Blood stains don’t come out easily. 

Suddenly the seat in front of you was occupied. It startled you a bit at first since you were supposed to be alone, but you quickly recollected yourself and took note of the person before you. Longer blonde hair, thick rimmed glasses and a stupid bucket hat topped of this mystery man's look as he stared out into the walkway as if he was looking for someone or something. It seemed that he hadn't noticed you yet.

"Ahem." You said, clearing your throat to try and get the man to leave as this section of the train was clearly occupied.

“Mantis? Something wrong?” Wyatt answered from the earpiece, trying to make sure that the mission had started out going directly as planned. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to have a chitchat with him while this stranger was in the vicinity, you switched it off and directed your attention at the person before you.

"Oh hey." The man said, turning around and staring you in the eyes. You could see him look you up and down before directing his gaze back to yours with an apologetic smile on his face. A strand of his bleached blonde hair fell from the hat atop his head and placed itself right in front of his eyes.

"This seat's taken."

He made an "oh" shape with his mouth as he nodded and smiled. Thanking the universe that that was all it took to get him to leave, you turn back to the window to wait for him to get up and go somewhere else. When that didn't happen, you turned back to the man only to see that he had moved a seat over instead of sitting in the one across from you by the window.

"Uh? Hello?" You said, shifting some of your stuff over to opposite side of the table so he wouldn't realize the papers weren’t written on. 

"Oh hey again." He said once more, smiling at you and taking off his hat. His demeanor was giving “sexy professor” and you hated to admit it, but he was damn fine. You wondered how old he was but soon decided it didn't matter. This wasn't a social trip.

"Hey, yeah. I thought I mentioned that this seat was taken?" You said in a calm but firm tone, trying to ward him off from your mission. You weren't going to be able to talk to Wyatt about anything with this dumbass bucket hat dude eyeing you up every now and then.

Running his hands through his hair to restore some of its volume, he looked back up at you. "Yeah, you mentioned that. That's why I'm over here now." He said. So he was the asshole flirtatious type. Perfect.

"A seat over?"

"Well you said that one was taken."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. What was with this guy? You thought American tourists at least knew that the trains in Japan were supposed to be quiet as a sign of respect to the other passengers. Guess not with this guy.

"You can't go sit in another compartment? Really?" You said, now letting some of your annoyance shine through.

"Are there any other hot people in those cars?" He asked with an aura of innocence despite the words that were leaving his mouth.

"Not any who'd be willing to talk to you."

"Feisty. That's how I like them."

You rolled your eyes in his direction and started to gather your things. If he was going to insist on sitting there, you would move yourself. You just had about everything packed up while he complained about you not wanting to sit next to him until you remembered the gun you had stuffed into the seat earlier. There was no way you'd be able to get it out now that this man was over here, trying his hardest to flirt his way into a better viewpoint of him. You put your things down and sat in your seat from before, hating that you had to give in to his pleas since you wouldn't be able to remove your weapon.

"Ah! You changed your mind." He said, a grin on his face and a confident tone now replacing his one from earlier.

"Whatever. When's your next stop?" You asked, trying to see how long you would have to deal with this moron for. An hour you could take, but if he was going all the way to Kyoto then this might possibly be the worst mission you've been given.

He smiled. "Whenever I can get out. Might take me until Kyoto, who knows."

Great. Just fucking great.

...

Tangerine held his hands in his suit pockets, feeling around for the familiarity of his pocket watch. He needed to know when phase two of their plan would commence and when he would be able to make his escape with his brother in tow, safe and sound. He hated having to be in this business but he would do whatever it took to keep Lemon safe and sound.

Walking into the train car with the hideous blue accent, he held a peculiar silver case in his hand with a sticker that looked as though it came out of a kid's coloring book. This sticker was a ploy to keep any wandering eyes out as they would assume it belonged to a five-year old or someone one that age. The blue train sticker beamed up at him as though it were urging him forward towards the luggage compartment ahead only for him to place it above him and Lemon's seats.

"I can take it." Lemon said, pressing for the case in Tangerine's hand. There was something magnificent about the case itself, as though it held a power that would trap everyone's fixation and would possess even the strongest of morals. It gleamed under the soft lighting and for a moment Tangerine recoiled. If he allowed Lemon to take the case and it be misplaced, their whole mission could be askew. But, he trusted his brother. Which is what led him to handing over the shiny object with a slight hesitation.

"Be careful with it, please." He said, worry prevalent in his eyes. He was tired from last night's event in Soho.

"I'm a secret agent. Of course I'm bloody careful." Lemon replied as he took the baggage and went to another compartment while Tangerine looked for a seat. Seeing one open in the back, he moved towards it with a calm expression on his face only to find that it was already occupied by a man in a stupid bucket hat and-

One of the most beautiful human beings he had ever set eyes on.

Her eyes were a beautiful color, a contrast from the hideousness of the train compartment before him. The way she held herself as though she knew her self worth, but was still modest and humble. Her hair which fell just slightly above her eyes as she moved about the compartment, gathering the miscellaneous papers and electronics. As soon as everything was gathered up, she froze in place and stared at her now empty seat before sitting back down again. There was something about that stare; a hidden fear.

He needed to know what it was. Whatever force compelled him to make his way to her direction pulled at his shoes and drove him to her seat where they locked eyes. Her mouth muttering in annoyance at the fact that there were now two pretty men screwing up her mission and not leaving her alone.

"Is-is he bothering you?" Tangerine managed to get out an entire sentence to his surprise with pertinence to the situation. He had thought all he was capable of would be a hello or a simple nod. He surprised himself quite a bit today.

Your eyes widened in sudden admiration for the man in the blue suit. "Oh yes. Please tell him to go away." You said, hoping that this British man would be your savior against Mr. Bucket Hat who was trying so hard to insist that his name was Ladybug.

Ladybug followed your eyes to Tangerine and he smiled. "I can appreciate a fine ass man when I see one." He said, leaning back against the seat and making himself more and more comfortable as the train rolled off into the distance.

"You-you-" Tangerine started but whatever confidence he had upon starting this conversation left him entirely as he tried to tell off this "Ladybug" guy. Embarrassed, he quickly composed himself and looked at the man. "I would leave this woman alone if I were you. It's not polite."

Tangerine then went further towards the front of the compartment with his hands back in his pockets as he twiddled his thumbs and thought over the encounter while he was with Lemon.

"Something happen?" He asked, concerned as to why his usually stoic brother had taken a turn down Anxiety Lane. With his eyes wide and jaw clenched Tangerine looked as though he had an encounter with a ghost shortly before sitting down with Lemon to have this conversation. 

“I think-” He began, before he looked back over at the person a couple seats ahead of him. She was still sitting by the doofus with the hat but seemed to be quite interested in whatever the man had to say all of a sudden. Almost as soon as he was distracted by her once more, he noticed something off about his brother which sent him into a bit of a British frenzy.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Trying to show off your blood-stained shirt to everyone in Tokyo?” Tangerine whisper shouted and motioned towards his brother’s coat which was propped open, blood from last night’s events in Soho dried onto his white button-down. 

“Well, yeah. I want people to see my new tie.”

...

The gun that was stashed away by your side begged you to grab it and threaten Ladybug to leave you alone. He was really starting to get on your nerves (attractive as he may be) and you had hoped that British guy would’ve come to your rescue only for him to fail at that. Today was not a good day for keeping your hopes up, that’s for sure. 

“Hey, what kind of name is Mantis anyways?” The man before you questioned upon noticing the inscription of a name on your luggage overhead. He looked smug, in a way, as if he knew you were being glued to the spot due to your hidden weapon. 

“What kind of name is Ladybug?” You asked in retort, trying to get under this guy’s skin like he was getting under yours. 

“It’s a codename. Ever heard of those before, Miss Pretentious?”

You stopped your bickering and looked at him- really looked at him. The glasses, the hat, the bleached hair that looked like it was horribly done over the kitchen sink. It was a disguise. And a horrible one at that. 

You leaned over the table and he followed suit, the two of you being so close you could feel each other’s breaths over the cheap train seating. You switched from your usually calm attitude to a more serious and intentional tone as you wanted to figure out just what exactly this Ladybug wanted with you. It wasn’t to pointlessly flirt with you, no. It was to feel you out. 

“First day on the job, newbie?” You asked, now finally understanding what he was truly doing here. And by the sound of the codename, it was assigned to him, not something he chose for himself.

“Oh so you’re an agent too?” he said, pulling out a Fiji water bottle and removing the cap with a knowing smile, “figures the sexy lady might be an enemy of mine.”

Your hand clenched at your side as you realized the weight of your words, becoming even more irritated than you already were. What did this guy want? What business did he have being on this train or Japan in general? Was he after the case too?

“I can see the little gears spinning in your mind,” he said, taking a drink from his water bottle and placing it down on the table, “It’s alright, I won’t say anything to anyone else.”

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, now fully invested with what the man was saying but also pissed off that he had come over and somewhat blown your cover within minutes of you being on the train.

“I’ve tried to tell you already. The name’s Ladybug. I’m filling in for Carver.”

“Why would you tell me that? You do realize that being undercover means that you’re undercover?”

Ladybug played with the cap of his water bottle and flicked it off the top so it flew towards your seat. He was all kinds of childish, this guy.

“Between us is a wall,” he began, checking his watch to see the time as he continued to explain his reasoning, “and within every wall is a window. Er, shit- I mean a door..”

...

Tangerine felt himself focus back to the mission at hand. He quickly scolded himself for being tired enough for his mind to drift in every direction other than the right one, letting himself become distracted by a girl nonetheless. He straightened out his tie and placed his hands on the table, his hair slicked back and the watch on his wrist gave others the illusion of his put-togetherness. Inside, however, he was an absolute mess as he ran over every intrusive thought stationed in his brain. The White Death, his son, the case. It was all a lot for one individual to ponder.

He did have his brother by his side though, and that made things more worthwhile. Lemon always made the job easier as he was someone Tangerine could truly confide in. The two had definitely seen the weight of the world and surrounded themselves with the death that came with work. It meant something to be able to come home to someone who at least knew of the things he had to deal with and could sympathize with his negativity. 

Those were the moments he loved his brother. When he was rambling on about Thomas the Tank Engine, though, he did not. 

“Gordon. Gordon is the strongest and the bravest of the group. Like Tangerine, for example.” Lemon huffed out with a dopey smile and placed the train sticker onto the deadliest man alive’s son’s forehead. The Russian boy did not look pleased with Lemon’s antics as he shrugged off the situation entirely and removed the sticker, placing it onto the sleeve of Lemon’s coat. 

“Tangerine? Like the fruit?” The boy said, glancing at the two men whom he woke up to next. His face was covered with those kitchy do-it-yourself tattoos which read various phrases, most of which were just “fuck you” in different languages. His hair was disheveled and curly to the point where it looked too unkempt to possibly be on one’s head. To be fair though, he hadn’t showered for at least three days before Tangerine and his brother had to force him on this train back to his unloving father. 

“Like the blessings.” Lemon rolled his eyes as they had been asked that question one too many times that day. 

“I’m supposed to put my trust into people named after fruits?”

“They’re codenames. A delinquent like you should know a thing or two about that. And no, you shouldn’t put your trust into us since we’re taking you back to your father.” Tangerine said, matter-of-fact. This trust fund baby needed a kick in the balls. 

This made the delinquent get immediately frustrated as he realized where he was now. He had worked diligently to remove himself from familial affairs and now he had a one-way ticket back to the man he hated the most. He tried to get up from his seat, but Lemon was quick to draw the gun from his coat pocket, revealing the blood spatters from before. Hesitantly, the White Death’s son sat back down and placed his hands on the table in a manner similar to Tangerine. 

“Good, good. That’s how I figured this conversation would be going.” Lemon sighed and turned to his brother who wore a matching expression of exhaustion. 

“Now, we’re going to deliver you to your father and bring him that briefcase. Then, your rich little family will pay us as we deserve,” Tangerine began, unfolding his hands and using them to gesture what he was saying, “and because your father hired the best assassins in the world, we’ll be able to keep our arms.” 

“Indeed, we will.” Lemon said, grinning ever so slightly at how uncomfortable the atmosphere around their victim was getting. He definitely enjoyed the interrogation portions of his job. 

Suddenly, the tattooed boy grinned even more maliciously than Lemon as he leaned over the table to enunciate his next sentence, “What makes you think my father will let you keep your arms?” 

Tangerine spoke next, “Because he knows of our skill. He hired us for a reason, dipshit,” his British accent poked through his words, “And if either of us is to lose our limbs, it’ll be Lemon, not me.” 

“Why do I have to lose my arms? You know how much I like them.” Lemon whined. 

“Because I need mine.”

“Who’s to say I don’t need mine?”

Tangerine sighed once more and turned to his brother who looked so innocent holding a gun. 

“Because I get more kills than you do.” So what if it was a petty argument? Tangerine was quite tired of hearing Thomas the Tank Engine references and if this would shut his brother up, then so be it. However, Lemon retaliated. 

“What about the job in Bolivia?”

“What about it?” 

“Well, you know. We work best together. Our seventeen kills just trying to get this guy on a train with us.” Lemon raised the gun up a little higher to spark some sort of fierceness within the boy sitting next to him. The Russian seemed to have stopped listening in on the conversation and was more intently focused on what was happening directly outside of the train window.

“Sixteen. Sixteen kills.” Tangerine corrected, blinking his eyes in fake astonishment towards Lemon’s false counting.

“Seventeen, actually.”

This was going to be a long ride to Morioka.  

...

The train accelerated even faster as it traveled throughout the entirety of Tokyo, wind whipping around the sides of the steel structure and piercing through the wind. It was going so fast that even the windows were hard to see out of; occasionally one would see a building here and there but everything else was hard to make out. 

Tapping her nails against her book which read “The Communist Manifesto,” Prince waited for the man she had stunned to wake up and allow her to talk of her plans. Her outfit worked in the way that she had hoped it would, as she was trying to come off as an innocent schoolgirl. It was such a ridiculous concept in the secret agent world for her to not be taken seriously considering the fact that she was born a woman. Well, how she would change that perception when she finally got her way.

Gasping for air upon awakening, the man whom had searched the train with a gun to kill Prince (and had bumped into Ladybug moments before boarding) took immediate notice of his surroundings, looking for his attacker. Upon seeing the young girl dressed in bright pink, he frowned and the lines around his eyes followed suit, wrinkles on his face despite only being thirty-seven. Prince was supposed to be a man he had presumed, as his son Wataru had been pushed off of a building in spite of his involvement with The White Death.

“Who are you?” Yuichi, the man, spat out in the best English he could muster. His confident and mysterious demeanor left him once he realized that the woman was holding a gun under her table, directly pointed at him with the intent of firing if he misbehaved. Yuichi took the best course of action and decided to shrink away into his chair with the red upholstery, trying his best to be swallowed whole by the velvety fabric. 

“I,” the girl began, looking down at her finger which was placed on the trigger, “am The Prince.” 

Yuichi glared at her and thought back to his son who was currently in the hands of the hospital that took him in after the fall. His mind ran through images of Wataru, small and frail in the confines of the bed, hooked up to miscellaneous machines and tubes. 

“And you, Yuichi, are going to help me.”

“How do you figure?” He said, knowing that she had the high ground due to the weapon she had stolen from him moments after striking him with a taser. 

She took the gun and wrapped a pink hairtie around the handle; the beads on it were shining as the lights beamed down overhead. Prince then placed it on the table with the body of the gun facing Yuichi himself. She glanced to the binding around his wrists, and reached over to free him before resuming her position in her chair, just about to reach for the gun when-

-Yuichi made a leap for it and grabbed it, facing it towards The Prince who was now smiling.

“I wonder how my hitman is doing, watching over your son. Let’s call him, shall we?”

...

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first installment of my Bullet Train series! I want this to be fast-paced and scattered like the movie, and I tried my best to make all of the plotlines match up while also including another character. I think this is the first fanfiction I’ve written where I’ve taken out a notebook and pen to make this go as smoothly without issues as possible. I hope to see more Tangerine and Ladybug fanfics as I am in love with this movie. Enjoy!

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Announcement for my Lovely Panko Shrimps!

TOMORROW. 10:00am. BULLET TRAIN FANFICTION. PART ONE.

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Okay Panko Shrimps,

Have you guys seen Bullet Train yet?? Do you guys want Bullet Train content?? I know it's a newer movie but I would be writing for both Tangerine and Ladybug! (Brad Pitt, hello?)

I've tried to find some content but the fandom is pretty dead on Tumblr so far WHICH SUCKS ASS BECAUSE I FEEL SUCH A NEED TO WRITE THIS like my fingers are trembling with excitement to get behind my computer and start typing this out.

How do we feel? Thoughts? Do I write this anyways?

💛🦐

Update: I wrote it, here's the link:

Lady Luck

Dating Tyler Durden Would Include...

As requested by: @hyuugasmary

Just some headcannons for dating the world's most chaotic character!

⚠️ Warnings: mentions of death, sexual innuendos⚠️

Tyler Durden is a man who is very in-tune with his feelings. He doesn't deny himself the simpler pleasures of existence and knows where his priorities lie. Therefore, when he figured out he had the hots for you and realized your intellect was something he clicked with, he made you his.

Part of me thinks he was slightly forceful about it. If you had denied his request when he first popped the question, he would've done everything in his power to show you that he could be the person you needed. For example, if you're someone who cares more for physicality in a relationship, he would allow you to watch him kick ass in Fight Club. If you're someone who cares more for personality and intuition, he would focus more on showing you just how intelligent he could be. Either way, he has both looks and smarts so you'd be getting both in the end.

If you had said yes without any hesitation, he would've admired your eagerness and would show it back to you in abundance.

So now, how would you fit into your boyfriend's overarching hatred of the patriarchy and his plans for mass destruction? Simple. You would just be there to offer him support through his ideology and provide him with affection while he makes nitroglycerin. He loves your imagination and your intensity when it comes to arson and sex.

Fight Club is no different; you appreciate the way Lou's Tavern quickly becomes a safe haven for you and the boys, all of whom treat you with utmost respect. I mean, they have to considering the fact that you're their leader's love interest. They allow you to watch from outside of the circle to engage you in the activity, but will never allow you to fight since they know Tyler wouldn't allow a single scratch on your body....unless it came from him.

Tyler wants someone to be on his level of bad-assery. Sure, he wants to protect you and keep you safe but he lets you start any fight or argument just as long as he was right by your side to finish it for you. He wants someone with an internal flame and a passion for watching the world burn.

While you're staying with him on Paper Street in the early days of Project Mayhem, the Space Monkeys instantly refer to you as Second in Command. If you identify as female, you're usually met with "Mrs. Durden" whereas if you identify as a male or somewhere in between, you're met with "Mr. Durden #2."

Tyler lets you harass the newcomers on the porch saying that "you'd teach them a better lesson than I could since they'd be staring at you anyways." But still offers to beat anyone up if they glance at you in a suggestive way.

Nights with Tyler are spent hunched over pots of the latest soap mix; gagging at the smell of the liposuction bags as you pull them out from the fridge. Tyler plays his music which is something with a sharper edge to it since he is very much into the punk genre, but I also have a feeling he would also play a lot of Depeche Mode.

On the nights where he didn't desire to blow things up in the morning, he would stay with you in his room, wrapping you up in his arms and playing with your hair while you fell asleep. He would never be cold to you but he would spend a lot of time on his "homework assignments" and phoning in on the other clubs set up in different states. He would tell you what was on his mind as he thought of it, but the nights where he felt really comfortable, he would let his anxieties and insecurities show just a little bit more than usual since he trusts you not to judge him. Which you don't.

During the day, you would usually watch him in the basement of Lou's Tavern as he prepared for another club session later that evening. You would also tag along with him when he worked in the theatre while he spliced single frames of pornography into family films. You usually picked out the lewd images since the two of you would crack up when kids started to cry.

Bonus!

Patching up Tyler's wounds after an intense session of Fight Club, scolding him for going too hard and overexerting himself.

Wearing Tyler's infamous coffee mug printed robe in the mornings.

Dancing with Tyler to no music in corridors of fully populated buildings for absolutely no reason other than self amusement.

Calling your boyfriend Mr. Durden once on accident since it's all you heard on a daily basis and him laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

Both of you hating pet names but you call each other "babe." He will occasionally call you "love" but only in the bedroom or times where there's no one else around. It's not that he's embarrassed, he just likes the exclusivity.

Having him tell you about his scars while you trace over them on his bare skin, admiring every inch of the beautiful man before you.

One time you got into a fight with Angel Face (Jared Leto's character) and he pushed you. Tyler beat his face in so hard that the blonde had to use his $300 of personal burial money a bit sooner than he anticipated.

Tyler will teach his "life lessons" when you're around but he would never dream of putting you in danger. His near-life experiences are only for the times he knows you're sound asleep safe at home in his bedroom.

Tyler is just a little bit more cautious about how much trouble he really gets into, knowing that he can't die when he has you to come back to every night.

And last but not least...

Tyler wears your clothes. You saw how he dressed in the movie with his Goodwill attire? Yeah. He doesn't care much for fashion or practicality so he will 100% walk to his job as a banquet waiter in your cutoff pink shirt with a shrimp on it.

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I had a lot of fun with this one! >:)

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Blueberries and Cigarettes

Cliff Booth X Reader

Request by @multifandomfanfic : "Maybe something along the lines of you're a hitchhiker and you meet him after he picks you up from a hitchhiking experience and then you guys like make out in his car."

⚠️ Warnings: Language, drug use ⚠️

The sun was unnecessarily hot today as you dragged your feet along the sidewalk; you were quite a ways away from home. The heat blaring down on your bare shoulders signified you that you were going to be burnt by the end of the day. The sidewalk hurt your feet and your shorts felt especially sticky as you continued towards the open road; your cherry lollipop that you picked up at the convenience store on your little adventure stuck to the roof of your mouth. This summer was brutal.

You passed a couple of signs along the way that were covered with graffiti and dirt. This was Hollywood- home of the stars. Maybe you'd have appreciated it more if it wasn't so grimy. The spots that were uninhabited by celebrities and were filled with the normal working citizens of America were less scenic.

"Hey!" A voice could be heard from behind you and instantly you identified it to be one of the girls from Spahn Ranch. A brunette with large eyes and a tooth gap started making her way towards you with a large jar of pickles under her right arm. Eating one of them herself, she practically throws herself onto you with a smile and a shirt stained with pickle juice.

"Hi." You said, only because you didn't want to be rude. You weren't really a fan of Pussy (the girl, not the thing itself) since she was always a bit more spontaneous and over-the-top than you preferred in a person. She was sweet, just a bit too...

You would've finished that thought, but a pickle was suddenly stuffed into your mouth.

"You like? Stole em' from that place up in town." She said, crunching on another one.

You coughed and took it out of your mouth. "Pussy, I have a sucker."

She laughed with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and made a similar noise to a hissing cat. Her hair was frizzy now that she had been under the sun and her rainbow top was tied incorrectly behind her neck. These small little things about her made her redeemable in a way.

You smiled. "It's okay, you wacko. Yes, the pickles are good, you should try them with a cherry sucker in the back of your throat too."

She giggled and ran towards the bench just a little ways away from where you were walking. You ditched the candy on the ground and continued to eat the cucumber that was forced into your face. The colorful billboards around you were blinding but extravagant, and you didn't know what sight was more interesting; the colors of the advertisements or Pussy sticking her thumb out at the speeding cars nearby as she drank from the jar. "Asshole!" She screamed at the car that threatened to stop, but made a quick turn and drove off in the other direction.

After what seemed like twenty minutes of sitting with Pussy, a yellow car drove up by the sidewalk and stopped in its tracks. You couldn't really see whoever was behind the wheel, but Pussy looked ecstatic.

"It's Mr. Hawaii!!" She said, and pulled your arm up to the vehicle, forcing you and the stranger to come face to face. He was quite a bit older and very handsome, and he had a nice tan that followed all the way down to the hem of his shirt. Meaning: he was tanned everywhere. And boy, did that leave a nice first impression. Longer hair and sunglasses framed his face as he lifted the lenses above his eyes and rested them on his head. A bright yellow Hawaiian shirt adorned his figure and a cigarette was stuck between his teeth, unlit. To say this guy wasn't the most handsome man you've seen would be a complete and total lie.

"Uh, hey." You said, giving a curt wave. You took notice of how he smiled at you; it was full of warmth and invitation. You blushed, feeling your entire body go hot the moment he flashed his brilliant teeth in your direction.

"Well, hello there," He nodded and then looked at Pussy, "You need a ride?"

Pussy must've noticed how enthralled you were by Mr. Hawaii already, so she nudged you in the direction of the passenger side window and grinned as she saw your cheeks flush once more. "Nope, but they do!"

You mentally cursed the girl but also thanked her because goddamn you really wanted to get in the car with this guy.

"Well alrighty then. Hop in?" He finally lit the cigarette and rested his elbow out the window, looking completely and utterly relaxed. He was so laid back that it almost scared you, wondering if he had any ulterior motives for his car ride. But then again, Pussy wouldn't have introduced you with such excitement if she didn't trust the guy.

You nodded in response and opened the car door, giving Pussy a look saying 'Thank you,' as you sat down. The car radio was playing "Bring A Little Lovin'" by Los Bravos and the familiarity of the popular song put any nerves you had to ease. She shut the door behind you from the outside and grinned, picking up another pickle out of the jar and popping it into her mouth. You were about to say something to her through the open window, but Mr. Hawaii was already speeding away and Pussy had busied herself in flipping someone off from the other side of the street.

It had only been two minutes before the man tried to start a conversation, looking back and forth from you to the mirror. "So, how you know Pussy?" He said with a slight southern accent, something you didn't pick up the first time you'd heard him.

"She's just another hippie from Spahn." You said, looking out at the buildings you passed by. Mr. Hawaii drove pretty carelessly.

"Ah." He said, turning his eyes back to the road. Your eyes caught his hand on the stick shift and a bunch of interesting thoughts ran through your head. You knew you probably shouldn't be fancying him in the way you were, but you couldn't help yourself. "Somethin the matter?"

Oh shit. He had caught you staring.

"Oh nothing! Just looking around your nice car." You said, trying to cover up the fact that you were checking him out. He seemed to accept your answer, but you knew deep down that he was aware of your antics. With that sky smile of his and the cigarette between his lips, you knew you were done for the minute you set foot in the vehicle.

Another moment of silence passes as he continues to drive every which way, effortlessly rounding corners and driving through red lights earning a couple of honks and beeps from other cars. Ironically, you felt totally safe.

"So where'ya heading?" He shook his head, letting the glasses fall down into his face and moving his hair in every which way.

"I'm not really in a rush to get anywhere," you said, now anxious that because you didn't have a set destination that you were wasting his time, "You can drop me off here if you have somewhere to be."

He looked at the watch on his wrist and grinned. "Nah, we can keep goin'," he replied.

You played with the hem of your shirt as you stared awkwardly at your outfit. What to do now? It was probably your turn to start the conversation since he had broken the silence the past two times, yet you didn't know what to say. Luckily for you, he speaks again.

"So," he begins, his little western accent kicking in slightly as he speaks. His mouth was drawn into a smile and he leaned over in the seat, staring at you once the two of you reached a red light. "I know a really great ice cream shop a little ways down from here. We could go if you wanted."

"Sure!" You said, hoping it didn't sound too enthusiastic.

...

The car ride wasn't as silent anymore once you had made it to the shoppe. Picking out a strawberry ice cream while your driver licked away at a blueberry one, you held in your astonishment with the beautiful man before you. Sure, Pussy had forced pickles into your mouth and had annoyed you before but goddamn you were thankful that she introduced you to a specimen as fine as Mr. Hawaii.

"That reminds me," you begin, taking another lick of the sweet goodness, "What's your name?"

"Well, what's yours?" He flashes you that brilliant smile once more.

"(Y/N)." You say while watching his body language. Leaning into the table, he gets slightly closer to you and before you know it, he has a hand by your mouth wiping away the straw strawberry.

"I like (Y/N)." He says, laughing as you get all hot and flustered. "My name's Cliff. Cliff Booth."

You realize that you vaguely remember that name from somewhere, although you can't place a finger on it. Mentally shrugging, you see Cliff go for another bite of his ice cream but fail as he ends up with a glob of it on his nose. Just as he's about to wipe it off, you reach out your hand and do it for him. "Allow me, you helped me out the last time." Grinning, you see his cheeks turn a slight red.

"(Y/N), I'm not usually this blunt but uh...you said you weren't in a rush to get anywhere right?"

Wondering where he was possibly going with this, you nod your head in agreement and give him a quizzical expression.

"Well do you want to make out in my car?"

Nearly choking, you stare at him with wide eyes. There's no way someone as handsome and charismatic as him wanted to make out with you. Especially when you first met via hitchhiking. But something told you this was too good of an opportunity to pass up seeing how eager the two of you seemed. You weren't going to let the insecurities get in the way of this one.

"Uh... Yes?" You said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster in the moment, still being somewhat disconnected that this was the reality that you were living in. He takes your hand and leads you back to the vehicle you would always associate with him after this moment and you both ditch what was left of your ice creams in the nearest trash can. Time seemed to slow as you opened up the door on the passenger side and close it, watching as Cliff gets in the driver's seat. He puts a hand along your jaw, leaning you closer to him as he moves his hand to rest along your thigh.

"Are you sure this is okay?" He asks you, noting not only your physical and emotional well-being but also remembering the slightly less average than normal age gap between you.

"Yes, absolutely."

That was all he needed before he leaned in, placing his lips on yours and holding you pressed against his face. He was soft and kind and added very little pressure as he started to loosen up around you and the tight space the car had to offer. It filled you with claustrophobia but the good kind as it felt there was a closeness you wouldn't have been able to reach anywhere else.

"You taste like strawberries and pickles." He says, pulling away from you just to rest his forehead against yours after a while. Sharp deep breaths were heard all throughout the space as you tried to catch your breath, your face a giant smile and your heart a billion butterflies trying to escape your chest all at once. This was where you felt the most at home.

"Well you taste like blueberries and cigarettes, which happens to be my new favorite taste in the world." You say, leaning in for more affection from the stranger but not stranger before you.

...

(A/N): I hope this is okay! Again, I'm so so sorry that it took me this long to finish your beautiful fanfiction request but I honestly loved writing every part of this short story.

With love, Panko Shrimp 💛 🦐

It's Hot To Punch a Blonde Guy in A Bar

Tyler Durden X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendos, light nsfw, blood, use of drugs, reader is put in an uncomfortable position ⚠️

"Tyler?" You called from across the bar, wondering where on earth he went. He had ordered something and left you there to make it for him, walking away from it entirely so he could continue with whatever else was occupying him. With the cold drink in your hand, you glanced over both shoulders and wondered if maybe he ended up in the basement again. Where Tyler Durden was in Lou's Tavern was always a mystery. However; as you moved to set the drink back down, a familiar voice appeared from your left.

"Thanks." With this simple short and curt response, he took the glass from the bar and sat down haphazardly on the leather upholstered stools. Dark maroon jacket and contrasting bright blue shirt with palm trees, Tyler was really a sight to behold as he removed the large red frames from his face and put out his cigarette on the counter. You had told him numerous times to just take it outside, but he was Tyler Durden and if he wanted to do something, he did it.

Brushing away a couple strands of hair from the sides of your cheeks, you tried to force a smile on your face as you went to clean up the cigarette ash. He never made your job easy. Always leaving cigarette ash on the counter and a fight in his wake, you've just learned not to argue with him and go about your job.

Picking up another glass from the back, you move to serve the man directly to his right. This stranger had bright blonde hair- too bright- and a set of blue eyes to match. With an ugly black eye and fresh blood atop his lips, he went to grab your wrist to keep you there after you had handed him his order. This wasn't entirely out of the usual, this bar was dingy and gross and full of men who were even more disgusting. You considered it a good week when you didn't get sexualized for just breathing.

"Take your hand off me." You said in a firm but polite tone. If he tried anything stupid, you would kick him into next week.

Sighing, he moved the beer slightly away from him as he stared you up and down, taking in the sight before him and reveling in it. He seemed to like the fact that you were visibly uncomfortable and so he continued with his antics.

"Relax, Girlie. What do you say we get out of here?" He smiled and you could see that he was missing about four teeth.

"I have a better idea. Fuck off before I stab you in the face." He removed his grip from you and held up his hands in defeat.

"Woaahhhhh girlie is fiesty-"

Sometime between when he first opened his mouth and his lame gesture, you popped him right in the jaw, sending him tumbling backwards off his stool and onto the ground. There was a commotion now, the men at the bar looking at the blonde bitch as he held his face in his hands. All except for Tyler Durden, who stared directly at you with a half smile. He wouldn't admit it to himself right away but that was sexy as hell. Or, at least he thought so.

"You cunt." This kid spat out the name at you before trying to get up and steady himself against the counter. When his face came into view, you could see that his jaw was dislocated and blood was pouring out down the side of his mouth. You mentally high-fived yourself for breaking his face.

"Aww, want girlie to get you a band-aid?" You said in a mocking tone. This kid really pissed you off.

"Well I ought to-" he jumps up over the counter and reaches straight for your throat as you dodge away in the nick of time. The blonde boy throws himself into the cabinet of glasses and breaks a few of the ones in the very front. You steady yourself for a fight but you feel a hand on your shoulder and smell the familiar aroma of homemade soap and rust. Tyler held you back with a smile.

"I can take care of this one from here, thanks for warming him up for me."

Tyler crouched down to the man's level and held his face up by his ugly ass hair. The man now sported a couple fresh cuts, none of which were too serious except for the one above his eyebrow. That would need stitches.

"I'll have you know that you tried to hit my girl, Angel Face." Tyler stated as he banged the stranger's head against the floor once again and knocked a couple of teeth out. "This girl right here isn't in fucking Fight Club you sadistic fuck." Once again the stranger loses a couple more teeth.

Pound after pound and slap after slap, Tyler has to stop himself before things became too messy. Floor tiles were starting to pop up, for Christs sake. Blood ran through the lines in-between the tiles creating pretty red patterns in contrast against the green of the room. The man that Tyler referred to as Angel Face now had two black eyes and a deep gash by his forehead. Glass stuck out from spots in his hands as be gasped for air, blood bubbling up in his throat and involuntarily being spat out.

"Hey, let's get out of here before some human butt wipe decides to call the authorities." Lighting another cigarette, your boyfriend had the largest grin on his face. Even with the specks of the stranger's blood, you thought he looked hot as hell.

"Sounds like a plan." You said, and grabbed your purse from behind the bar. "Irvine, I'm clocking out early!"

With an arm around your waist, Tyler escorted you off the premises and towards the familiar house on Paper Street; puddles lined up against the sidewalk and broken bottles littering the grass. Thankfully the walk from Lou's wasn't too far and in no time, you found yourself within the confines of the wooden house with the horribly printed wallpaper. Kicking off your shoes and leaving them in the walkway to mess with Tyler, you go to grab the coffee cup printed robe that he wore so often from the back of the couch in the living room. It was getting colder as the seasons changed and you knew that it would be another difficult year of not being able to afford heat.

"So... About this Fight Club you mentioned earlier...?" You started, trying to make conversation. You had briefly heard whispers of the other guys talking about some club that took place in the basement of where you worked, but whenever you had asked, the men stated that they were sworn to secrecy.

"First rule, babe. Can't talk about it." You heard his voice from the kitchen along with the clattering of pots and pans. It was 12:17am, why the fuck was he making soap this early?

"Not even with me?" You walked into the kitchen and leant against the island in the middle of the room; surrounded by haphazardly placed cupboards and exposed wires from the ceiling. There was the smell of vinegar in the air and the stove kicked on, emitting a slight amount of heat on Tyler's side of the room.

"Nope. Although I might be inclined to share a few details about my daily habits if you let me have my robe back." He said with his back to you, busying himself with mixing the soap around with a spoon.

"What if you tell me everything instead? I deserve to know, I think." You said, lighting a cigarette from one of the boxes on the table.

"That's hardly a deal."

"I'll give you your robe back."

"It's mine anyways."

"I'll let you fuck me again."

Tyler put down the spoon and seriously contemplated your offer. His hair was sticking up in every direction and he still had yet to wipe the blood off his face from the catastrophe earlier.

"Before you go to work tomorrow?" He asked, raising his eyebrows in a ridiculous suggestive manner.

"Yes. Scout's honor."

Tyler turned the stove off and placed the contents of the bowl in the fridge. You never dared to open that fridge since you were sure you would find body parts or blood bags or some other weird shit in there. That's how you and Tyler thrived. He did murderous shit, you didn't pry. He gave you love and cared about you, you stayed out of his business.

Turning around, he places both his arms on the island directly across from you. His jacket had been cast aside so his short sleeved T-shirt allowed for a great view of the veins in his arms and hands. Sweat beaded slightly on his forehead and he licked his lips in anticipation.

"Fight Club. It's a place where the real heroes of society earn their praise for their dedication to life and the downfall of capitalism," he smirks and rubs your hand on the counter, "No girls allowed."

"Why not? I'm sure I could kick your ass. You saw me beat up that douchebag today." You said, with a glare directed towards Tyler's comment.

"See, there's a difference. Most of the guys get pleasure out of fighting each other because it lets loose some of their anger. For me, if you were to kick my ass that is, I would find it pleasurable purely because you're sexy and I love you."

You sighed with a slight smile to let him know you weren't angry. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly handsome?"

"Go back to making soap or some shit," you joked.

"I have a better idea." He scooped you up into his arms and pressed you against the wall, locking you in between his body and the structure of the house. He gave you one last look in the eyes before he went to work on kissing you softly at first, and then getting more and more rough and sloppy. Fingers intertwined in his hair, you kissed him back feverishly.

His hand then went to make a move against the side of your thigh, tapping alongside it with his fingers in a drumming motion as he continued to kiss you with an intense passion. You thought it was cute and waited for him to change his directory towards something more R rated and leave the PG-13 in the dust. Just as you had silently hoped, his hand moved up to the hem of your shirt, slowly rubbing circles on your side and making his way up slowly. Tyler liked to take his time with these things, you noticed. It was because of some poetic thingy probably; about how the world was caving in and we're all dying but we can take things slow sometimes and enjoy the moment.

"I thought you wanted it before I had to leave for work?" You asked with a knowing tone. Your boyfriend was such a wimp about these things.

"We can always stay up all night...." He stated in between kisses. He pulled away for a moment to look at you and your current position against the wall, taking in the sight before him. He didn't see a lot of beauty in the world, but you definitely held the most of it.

"We can't do that, remember what happened last time?"

Tyler stopped his motions and thought back to the time he had gotten a little too crazy from the exhaustion and the sex that he threw the furniture from one of the upstairs bedrooms out the window to make room for some of the weird shit he wanted to try. The desk drawers and the chairs as well as all the old magazines were still outside on the ground, spewed about in disfunctional chaos outside the second story window.

"Fine, then I'll wait until tomorrow." He said, taking the robe from you and slipping it on, walking upstairs.

"You bitch, Tyler! You set me up!" You said with a laugh and followed him up the stairs. The smell of soap slowly leaving you as you got closer and closer to Tyler's room at the top of the stairs.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Are you gonna stay awake now?" He grinned and pulled you in close to him, opening the door with the heel of his foot and stumbling into the room with you in his arms as he made his way towards the bed. The door shut behind you and as the heavy wood made impact with the frame, a crack ran up the wall. Before you had time to register how much that would cost to get fixed, Tyler reached out and grabbed you from behind, pinning you onto the bed and leaning over you with the wildest grin on his face.

"Alright, Mr. Durden," you said as you twisted around and caught him by surprise, "I can stay up for a while." You caught his ankles and turned the two of you around so that he was now the one underneath and you were on top, straddling his waist. He took off the infamous coffee robe and threw it over the edge of the bed and watched as it hit the floor, lying back down again. His shirt was rising up, exposing the toned abdomen he had underneath, and his beautiful pale skin. His breath hitched as he watched you reach to remove the garment from his torso and then up above his chest and shoulders, removing it entirely from his frame. Your eyes practically drank in the image of him lying there shirtless and gorgeous as ever. The scars that littered his body glimmered under the soft glow of the candles used to light the house after dark (courtesy of no one ever paying the electrical bills). Your fingers went to trace over some of them, Tyler watching you with complete and utter admiration as you became lost in thought.

"Hey, everything okay?" He asked, watching how quickly your mood changed.

You smiled. "Everything is perfect, you're perfect."

Any anxiousness of his went away with your confirmation of his appearance.

"My scars?" He asked.

"Especially your scars. You're beautiful, Tyler."

This last sentence barely left your mouth before Tyler was lost in your kiss again, this time with more love than lust like before.

"Well," he said, "I don't want to die without any scars."

"Mission accomplished." You giggled and drew him in once more.

💛🦐

(A/N: I thought this concept of beating Jared Leto's character up and having Tyler think it was cute was something I desperately needed to write into a fanfiction. That was all it was going to be originally, until I read a Cliff Booth fic by @darling-i-read-it and fell in love with their writing towards Cliff's scars. The reader takes her time to go over each one in their story; making sure he feels loved and handsome as she talks about his past. I wanted to do something similar with the reader in my story as the reader is very in love with Tyler Durden. Thank you for inspiring my writing! You're truly one of my favorite creators on this app!!)

You can read their fanfiction here.

BRAD PITT

Brad Pitt:

Bike Rides and Cigarettes: Bike riding with your husband + shared cigarette + a cute bookstore = the perfect date in Paris.

(Romance/Fluff)

Cliff Booth:

Dating Cliff Booth: Just some headcannons on what it would be like to date the sexy stuntman.

(Romance/Fluff)

Blueberries and Cigarettes: A short drabble where the reader finds out there's more to the man with the Hawaiian shirt than he lets on. Cliff Booth X Reader!

(Romance/Fluff)

Tyler Durden:

It's Hot To Punch A Blonde Guy In A Bar: A Tyler Durden X Reader where they punch a blonde guy in the bar. Couple goals!

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Dating Tyler Durden: Just a few headcannons revolving around the concept of being Tyler's love interest.

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Dating Tyler Durden pt.2: More headcannons!!

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Fuck Your Life's Perception: Tyler shows he cares about you. Just chilling with the Master of Destruction.

(Romance/Fluff)

Ladybug (& Tangerine):

Lady Luck: You find yourself with a bunch of idiots on a train. Sexy idiots.

(Romance/Fluff)

Head Cannon #1: Just a short drabble for Tangerine and Ladybug!

(Romance/Fluff)

Dating Cliff Booth Would Include:

Just some cute little headcannons!

⚠️ Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, drug use, sexy Dilf Brad Pitt? ⚠️

The way you met was strange; you were at a gas station somewhere in the western parts of Hollywood when you saw a yellow 1966 Cadillac Coupe de Ville pull up out front. Sporting a Hawaiian shirt brighter than the sun and a cigarette dangling from his teeth, the man walked in and announced that he needed heavy duty cleaner because there was blood on the hood of his car. From whom, you didn't know but with the way he flashed his teeth at you and slicked back his hair, you knew that you were in more trouble than whomever Cliff Booth decided to beat up that day.

He had promised himself that he would never get married again after the incident, but you were too goddamn charming and the way your shorts rode up your thighs.......

His bright smile and even brighter persona is what drew you in; a nice contrast against your usual pessimistic attitude and overall sense that the universe was out to stab you in the back.

And your pessimism is what drew him in, you were always real with him and watching a smile light up your face after a joke he made was like heroin to him. And he also found it funny how you managed to trip over nothing when you were lost in your rants about how the seats in his car were too warm or how the sky hurt your eyes.

Long car rides where you share the aux cord- him usually going for something along the lines of Billy Idol and your response with the Sex Pistols.

In this instance, opposites really do attract.

But you loved him good and that's what he had been searching for, unbeknownst to him. He didn't think he would ever date someone with a significant age difference, but the fact that you were fresh into your twenties didn't seem to bother him too much.

On the occasion where you two would play-fight, you would call him grandpa and that would shut up any other insults he could come up with.

Him having pet names for you, which you usually hated but allowed him to continue.

Some examples of these would be: Darling, Babe, Princess, but his all time favorite would be little shrimp because he knew it pissed you off.

And your pet names for him were usually: Love, Babe, Love of my Life, Asshole, and Cowboy. Cowboy was because of his southern accent.....probably.

HIM HOLDING YOUR THIGH WHILE HE DRIVES LORD SAVE ME NOW

Becoming best friends with Rick Dalton because of your close proximity to Cliff all the time.

Spending time with Rick watching his movies while Cliff busies himself with making margaritas in the kitchen.

To which you drink with haste, whereas the other boys take it a bit slower because chances are that they're drunk already.

Laying down on Cliff while you talk to Rick about filming. Rick rolling a joint and offering one to you and Cliff.

Your favorite thing about Cliff though, was his dog.

Brandy instantly loved you and you didn't have to rub peanut butter all over your face for this to be true, unlike your husband.

Getting married with just the two of you and Rick; a bright sunny day in the middle of absolutely nowhere, your only other guests being tumbleweeds and sand.

Having antique rings that the both of you thrifted.

Cliff says it's because, "We're keepin' love alive."

Rick allowing the two of you to spend the night at his place since the camper is usually a mess and is a bit too small for the two of you.

You usually are able to make room when he-

And he-

And on the table where he-

And sometimes even outside when you-

And then in the back of Rick's car sometimes-

Y'all are horny, that's the point.

Wearing Cliff's shirts!!!!!!???

"Hey, that's my favorite yellow one!"

"it's my favorite too, now help me match it with one of your glasses."

He obliges.

Rolling up to pick up Rick but making him sit in the back because he's the third wheel now.

Sometimes he likes to throw a fit about how "movie stars ride in the front, pimps in the back," to which he receives a nice finger from you and an insult about his haircut. It's okay though because you can pet Cliff's hair from the backseat as he drives.

Grabbing snacks for the road!!! You usually grab a coffee and a bag of Twizzlers while Cliff opts for a protein bar and a lemonade.

Kissing Cliff in public all the time.

Like- all the time.

Everywhere.

Cuddling while watching movies and sitting in his lap while you fuss over his hair and making out with him while he pumps gas.

The possibilities are endless.

Chilling with Rick in his pool while listening to his tapes for auditions and giving him advice where you see fit.

Also stealing Rick's sunglasses.

"Where the f-f-fuck are m-my sunglasses?! Cliff??"

"My lady's wearin' em."

"W-well tell her to take em off!"

"Little Shrimp, can you give Rick his glasses back?"

"Nope."

"There's your answer."

Wearing skimpy outfits just because you know you're fucking with your husband.

And him taking his shirts off whenever he decides to work on a project and watching you get all hot and flustered.

Going to restaurants and choosing the wackiest things off the menu, trying to one up each other with your weirdness.

Usually sharing bits and pieces of your meals with each other.

Listening to him talk for hours about his favorite movies and musicians.

And him listening to you talk about yours.

All in all, y'all love each other.

My heart hurts.

BIKE RIDES AND CIGARETTES

Brad Pitt X Reader

Biking around the city with your husband!!!!!

Just a little drabble I wrote while I find the motivation to finish my other fanfictions :)

The spokes of your bike tires made cute little noises as the cards you had stuck to them flapped in the wind. Your footing on the pedals loose as you allow yourself to fully relax and enjoy the sunrise coming up from the east overhead, creating a nice yellow/blue tone over everything you saw. It was a perfect temperature; the petrichor from the rain that morning had left a dewy feel to everything you touched and made it perfect for a light sweater and ripped jeans. Your hair blew around in soft movements as you pedaled faster down the edges of the Seine River, the cool breeze being picked up from the water made its way to your face as it gently caressed your skin. Today was perfect.

Following suit, your husband of a year and half was behind you, looking out towards the scenery and the hazy light of the sun stretched across the sky. His hair was a perfect mess and his smile was brilliant as he flashed his lovely teeth. Brad loved bike rides almost as much as he loved you; being able to participate in both loves at the same time was the best feeling in the world to him. He was also clad in dark jeans and a light beige cardigan. He looked like he was straight out of a Renaissance painting.

Continuing down the cobblestone paths and around the bridge, you push through the soft wind to try and get to the spot you and Brad often shared your coffees on a park bench. The Eiffel Tower was on full display and there was something about it that looked extra breathtaking today, although you didn't know if it was because you were genuinely very happy or if it was the weather.

"Babe!" You slowly started to stop your bike as you waited for Brad to catch up with you. Wind blowing his sweater around him, he stopped his bike next to yours and took in the sight before him. You were beautiful and he could've sworn that if he had the opportunity to, he would fall in love with you in every country the two of you traveled to. Being a bit of a movie star definitely helped him with travelling.

"What's wrong?" You asked, voice laced with a slight worry.

"Nothing, everything is absolutely perfect." Brad smiled to you and leant in slightly as he delivered that line.

"May I ask why we stopped then?"

"There's a bookstore that you missed in your hurried attempt to escape me." He smiled and went to kiss you softly on your cheek before mounting his bicycle once again and kicking the stand back.

Excitedly, you hop back on your bike and feel for the pedals, pushing the flyaway strands of hair away from your eyes and allowing a smile to adorn your features. Taking one last glance at the edge of the river, you turn towards the direction of your husband and follow him on your bike to the little corner store you happened to completely glance over.

A worn out and faded sign was placed outside the front of the store, reading the name of the shop: "The Delicate Spine- used and renewed books of all sorts." It was a hand-me-down bookstore so there was definitely some treasures to be found on it's shelves. Itching in anticipation of what you might find to add to your book collection, you chain the front of your bike to the stand out front next to Brad's and the two of you walk in.

Wooden shelves scattered in no particular order were all around the entirety of the small place, a staircase leading to the basement which presumably had more of the same visual. The walls were a light yellow with a white trim and the paint was chipped and faded. The bell sounded above your head signalling your entrance to the older man who worked at the front desk and a sudden exhilarating smell of coffee filled your nose. It was a quaint and beauteous little place; you wondered how you could've possibly missed it before.

"All hardcovers are 20% off." The man stated with a smile as he shuffled around grabbing a box of books and walking towards the back of the store. Brad looked to you and grabbed your hand, leading you immediately down the stairs to the more abandoned shelving units in hopes of finding books of odder taste. It was funny how even a place full of items people didn't want anymore had a place within it that was even more abandoned by the public eye. With your free hand, you lightly touched the chipped paint on the walls with the tips of your fingers, gliding your hand along the wall as you made your descent; noticing the way the paint turned into a flowery wallpaper. The air was significantly cooler down here, giving you the notion that you were finally underground in the basement as you took in the plethora of books and scripts in front of you.

"I'll start on the left, you on the right?" Brad asks as he makes his way to the opposite end of the room.

"Sounds perfect to me." You replied and found yourself rummaging through the spines and loose papers. The smell of the basement was so nice, the earthy scent and the ink on paper would be one that you would remember for a long time. You wished you could encapsulate it into your memory for forever, going back to this moment whenever you felt so.

While searching through the faded titles, you come across an old favorite. Pulling out the familiar art deco cover, you notice the giant coffee stain on the front of it. Snickering to yourself, you flipped through the pages of The Great Gatsby by Scott F. Fitzgerald. There were highlights and notes in the margins signifying that whomever owned the book previously certainly got their use out of it. Grinning at the familiar name Jay Gatsby, you remembered your love for his character.

Eventually, you found yourself running your fingers over more and more titles, some of which were familiar and others that went by names you'd never heard of. Amidst your gazing, your fingers brushed over Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. However, it seemed that someone else had a similar idea and your hand grazed Brad's. Meeting his gaze, he flashed that brilliant smile once more and flipped his sunglasses above his head to push his hair back, allowing for his bright blue eyes to be on full display. Everything about him was enthralling.

"Why hello, sir. I do believe that I had my hands on Kafka first." You grinned.

"Hm...but it seems to me that you've already read this one. Therefore, I feel like I deserve the book more," He gently pulled the book off the shelf and held it out to you, "Or a pretty lady could read it to me and I'd call it a truce."

"Something like that could be arranged." You added the book to your small stack in your hands as you walked back up the stairs to pay for them. You insisted on paying for Brad's too, despite the fight he put up against you doing so.

You won, of course.

Placing your books into small paper bags, the shop owner printed out your receipt and handed you the items with a knowing glance. "You're a collector." He said with an eyebrow raise.

"Yes! How did you know?" You asked, now intrigued by what this man had to say.

He smirked. "All of them have outrageous stains and writing on the inside. My wife and I enjoy collecting the outcasts too."

You felt an admiration burning in your chest. It was nice to meet someone who also had an appreciation for things like this.

After you had finished at the desk, Brad helped to unchain the bikes. He had a determined look on his face as he busied himself with the task at hand, allowing for your leisure time to be spent searching for the cigarettes in his jacket you were wearing. You knew he always had a pack on him, yet you couldn't seem to find it anywhere in any of his pockets.

"Looking for this?" Your husband asks you, holding out his half-empty pack which he presumably took out from his back pocket.

"Why, yes actually." You go to reach for one of the cancer sticks, but he pulls it back from you.

"These things'll kill you, you know. You should really quit." He said with a teasing laugh.

"Oh yeah? And you're going to quit anytime soon?" You rebutted, knowing you were already winning this mini battle against him. Brad smoked way too much, for him to tell you to stop was complete ridiculousness.

"Fine, you got me." He pulls out a lighter and lights the end of both your stick and his, both of you deciding to take your drags while sitting outside the bookstore on the curb. Brad's cardigan was pooling below his waist now that he untucked it from his jeans, and you watched as he exhaled the smoke ever so delicately. Brad doing anything was graceful, but nothing compared to the way he smoked. The cylindrical spirals of grey coming from the edges of his mouth reaching up towards the sky and creating pretty patterns.

After a time, he sighed and looked in your direction. You were currently staring across the road, lost in your thoughts. Your face was pressed into a hard gaze as you pondered over whatever was going on in your pretty little mind; completely oblivious to your husband's staring. Brad felt his heart lurch ever so slightly as he watched you finish your cigarette and stomp on it to put out the burning embers.

"Ready to go?" You asked, motioning towards the bikes.

"Yeah."

Brad didn't say it in that moment, but he went over the reasons he married you in his head. The way you looked at him when he supposedly wasn't paying attention was one of them. He was so in love with you, he would buy you all the libraries in the world and had offered to do so. However, the little library full of misshapen and ragged books you had at home was perfect enough for the two of you.

He couldn't wait to continue these bike rides and cigarette stops all over the world.

MASTERLIST:

I take requests! Above are the links to the fanfictions and below them are the characters I write for :) Enjoy! 💛🦐

BTS

Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin

TXT

Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu, Huening Kamal Kai, Kang Taehyun

NCT

Yuta Nakamoto, Johnny Seo, Hendery

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

The Walking Dead

Carl Grimes

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter

Bones And All

Lee

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Spiderman

TASM! Peter Parker

DUNE

Paul Atreides

Strangers From Hell

Seo Moon-Jo

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson

Celebrities

Brad Pitt

Mads Mikkelsen