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Saviour Complex

Yandere! Tangerine X Reader

Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3

Synopsis: One night, you're pushed straight into an incoming train, causing everything to go black. When your eyes open up once more, you find yourself in a completely different country and face-to-face with your favourite character whose demise was right around the corner. Too attached to the man, you find yourself hatching a plan to save him - unaware of the consequences.

Word Count: 7,556

Act 1 - Regrets, Regrets, Sinking in Regrets

The rough, bumpy texture of a fruit grazed the nerves of your skin briefly before it disappeared immediately - spinning through the air and landing back in your palm with yet another small burst of gravity.

"Stop throwing and catching that dumb orange of yours, you don't look cool."

The biting words of the person next to you could be perceived as venomous by any passerby who decided to eavesdrop in that split second; to anyone who didn't know her personally. You knew her though - you spent your whole life with her, how could you not know her?

Your beloved sister.

"Tangerine, you mean." Your lips split open into a smirk as you corrected her.

Your words caused her brows to furrow in deep irritation on the surface, but, underneath it all, you could tell she wasn't actually mad with you.

"Same thing." She scoffed.

"It really isn't."

She gave you a look, one you were familiar with; a look which told you that she found what you just said utterly ridiculous.

"They literally look the exact same."

"But they aren't."

"Oh shut up." She huffed, one arm crossing over the other in a display of irritation. "You were never so picky about their difference until we watched that stupid movie."

You were torn between lighting up at the mention of your newly-crowned favourite movie, or showcasing your offense towards her critique of said movie.

In the end, you chose to do both.

"Okay, one, that movie isn't stupid-" she rolled her eyes as you spoke, "-and two, I can't go butchering the alias of my favourite character, now can I?"

"I don't get what you see in that guy."

Being sure to exaggerate it as much as possible, you let out a loud gasp.

"How could you say such a thing?!" You proclaimed. "He is so cool and I love his accent."

"You literally have the same accent." She deadpanned.

"Yeah but I don't sound as good as he does."

"You don't sound good in general."

You exhibited yet another over-exaggerated gasp.

"My own sister," the palm of your dominant hand pressed against your chest, fingers curling around the soft fabric beneath them, "treating me in such a way..."

"Oh, get over yourself." Another scoff left her lips, "I don't see how you're still such a carefree person despite what we used to do for a living."

For a moment, the grin on your face faltered and a flicker obscured your vision of reality. But that was all it was, a flicker - and it was only just for a moment. It was gone the next, you swore it was! No crimson substance stained against your mind or hands; no cold steel felt against the heat of your palm as your index finger wrapped tightly around that little lever; no screams that echoed through the confines of your head over and over and over-

-no, none of that. Not anymore, at least.

You were over that.

It was done and dusted.

It was thrown under the rug, ready to compile dust and slowly wither away through the teeth of the critters that lived alongside it.

It was never to be seen again.

At least, not by your hands.

"-ey! Hey!"

Your eyelids met several times in rapid succession as you blinked away the sudden blur that kept you from seeing the concave of your sister's lips.

Ah, see? She did care for you.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was light, barely there, with a sense of gentleness she wouldn't be caught dead exhibiting towards anyone that wasn't you. "I didn't mean to, I was just... I didn't mean it."

"Nah," a small huff left your lips as they curved up into that familiar, carefree grin, "it's fine, I don't care anymore."

The way her expression didn't shift in the slightest was enough to tell you that she didn't believe you. However, even if she had her doubts towards your words, she chose not to speak more on the matter.

After a few beats of silence, a large red vehicle slowly approached from the horizon - emerging as though it was Harley Quinn pulling herself out of the toxic substance the Joker decided to drown her in.

There it was, your bus.

"Listen," your sister's voice was quieter than normal, tender and soft around the edges - still speaking as though what she brought up had bothered you, "I just want you to know that... I find it hard too. You're not alone in this. I was there with you too."

You paused for a moment, standing right outside the open doors that led inside the vehicle.

Then, you took one step on, your hand reaching for the pole inside. Not too long after, you tilted your head towards your sister - towards Lena - and smiled, "I know."

With that, you thrusted the rest of your body onto the vehicle and sent her a wave as it started up - the screeching sound of its wheels being drowned out by the sound of the engine starting back up.

And then, you were off.

.

The glow of the night sky shined through the see-through walls of the office, lighting up several seats as it bounced off the monitors resting on each desk.

It was quiet, the only sound being the clicks of your heels against the solid ground, approaching the switches on the wall to turn off the one light that remained on. The one hovering over your desk.

With a flick of your finger, the only yellow glow in the room faded away to allow for the moon's blue rays to completely take over.

You didn't mind night shifts, they were comforting - some might even argue - relaxing.

They had this feel to them.

One where you could remain unbothered, trapped within the confines of your mind forever to wonder what exactly life had in store for you next.

There was once a time where you hated being left to your thoughts; nay, you loathed it.

Being left with your thoughts meant being left with your memories; being left with your memories meant being left with the haunting actions of your past; being left with said past actions meant being left with that same voice that berated your existence.

It was frightening.

It was terrifying.

So you ran from it.

You ran until it affected you no longer, you ran until your legs started to ache from the pain; until your lungs shrivelled up from the lack of air that it was so gluttonous for.

You ran until you had left it all behind.

But even then, it still came back to haunt you.

Even then, you couldn't help but catch little glimpses of hair that would disappear past the sharpest corners - hair that seemed to belong to one of them.

But that was impossible.

After all, you-

Your head shook from side-to-side, eyes finally returning to reality and finding yourself right by the lights of your office, finger still hovering over the switch.

You sighed.

It was time to go home.

Your hand instinctively rose up, gripping the disk that surrounded the hat on your head and pulling it down slightly to ensure it stayed there.

Then, your fingers curled tighter around the handle of the gray briefcase and you set off, footsteps swift as they echoed down the empty corridor.

With a 'ding!', the doors to the rectangular space parted to allow you to fill the vacant spot inside.

You stepped in, curling your other hand around the handle of the briefcase as you held it in front of you and leaned against the cold, metal railing.

The glass at the back of the elevator provided for a good scenery that overlooked the night sky twinkling over the busy streets of the city; still ever-so-alive despite the time.

One particular puff of air that left your mouth fogged up the glass in front of you, the sight filling you with a familiar childish sense of delight and, before you even knew it, one of your fingers rose up to draw two lines and an upturned curve underneath before it returned to the briefcase once more.

A small smile drew out your lips as your eyes fell half-lidded.

The moment was then interrupted by the 'ding!' of the elevator once more.

You turned around, stepping outside before tipping your sunhat at the male stood with a phased-out look in his eyes, adorning a black hat of his own with the word 'Security' printed onto it.

Luckily, he wasn't phased-out enough to not notice your greeting, to which he returned with a small, nervous smile of his own.

One of the cuter security guards of your building.

A particular strong breeze had your hand clutching tighter onto your hat and your eyes squinting, trying to avoid any dust from getting inside.

The street lamps illuminated the road as many individuals rushed by, ranging from stressed business men to childish couples wishing to play a game of tag with one another.

You didn't stay too long to observe though; no, you couldn't. Didn't have the time. Your sister was probably awaiting your arrival with anxious, clattering teeth - wondering what was taking you so long while not daring to admit that she was worried for you.

Your eyes travelled over to the stairs in the middle of the street, leading downwards into the network of tunnels connected underground to allow for easy access to many different places in the country.

Soon, your heels were clicking against those stairs, traversing down them to get to the tracks you would need to wait by to be able to set course home.

You stood at a queue, waiting to scan your card. It wasn't a long wait. It never was. At least, not at this time of night. Many people preferred snuggling under a blanket at home and watching a movie with a few snacks rather than having to work a late night shift where who-knows-what could go wrong.

Once you scanned in, you swiftly made your way to your platform, not needing to take the smallest glance at the signs to be able to know where to go. By now, it was all muscle memory anyway.

As you approached the rails, your heels made contact with a prominent bump on the ground - causing you to stumble the slightest amount before you were able to regain your footing just like that.

Now, it was just the waiting game.

You were a professional at waiting. Patience was practically your middle name; it had to be if you wanted to get your previous job done quickly-

-or... the job you had currently. Right, this normal, little office job. You had to be patient when waiting for the printer to be done with your papers, or awaiting an email from a co-worker of yours. Patience was key.

Patience was also risky.

In the time that you were patient, so many things could happen. You could wind up with your hands tied up in a basement because you decided to be patient and wait for your friend; or you could wind up with a gun to your-

"Enjoy hell, you murderer!"

Now, your reflexes were normally stupendous. Out of this world, really. When someone wished to deliver a rapid left jab to your face, you would twirl your body to the side to avoid it. Or when they went in for an uppercut aimed to take out your jaw, you would take one step back too quickly for them to react.

You wished you could claim your reflexes were good in this instance too- but it had all happened so fast.

The flashing lights of the incoming train; the harsh shove against your back that sent you tumbling over the platform; and the searing, white, hot pain that exploded against your side like a highly reactive chemical would with water.

So quick. So sudden.

So painful...

For a split second, everything went black.

Then, your eyes opened back up again.

The first thing you noticed was that you were stood upright, exactly as you were before being pushed - waiting in almost the exact same position. The railways right in front of your vision would have been enough to trick you into thinking that was all a daydream; some cruel concoction your mind conjured up to punish you for your sins.

You would've believed that whole heartedly had it not been for the fact that you were no longer underground.

The light of the moon was barely prevalent with the harsh illumination that was emitted from the lamps of the train station. There were a lot more people at this platform than the one you were previously at, the chatter was also louder than before; lively and sporadic, as though nothing just happened. As though you didn't just die.

You blinked slowly, brain struggling to process what, exactly, had just happened.

You died... didn't you?

No way you went through that pain and didn't die.

Someone pushed you into the tracks as a train was incoming.

How could you have possibly survived that?

Your head glanced from side-to-side as you noticed the people around you - specifically, their features. It differed from the Western features you were used to seeing in your day-to-day life. Instead, they looked to be East Asian, Japanese if your geography skills were doing you justice.

Another thing you noticed were the signs.

They weren't in English, instead filled with the symbols your mind automatically associated with the Japanese language.

You were in Japan somehow.

Was this some sort of final dream?

No way you imagined all that pain- that abrupt slam against your side that caused you to wince just thinking about it.

Before you could further indulge yourself in the expanding, vast sea of your thoughts - a sudden pick-up in the breeze sent your hat flying straight off your head and towards your left.

A small gasp left your lips as your hand reached out, fingers stretching and just barely grazing the ridge before it picked-up speed once more and narrowly escaped your grasp.

It was then that you decided to rush after it, careful to steady yourself lest you stumble over your heels.

Luckily, you didn't have to move much for, soon, the ridge of the hat was caught by a set of fingers that grasped onto it before holding it out towards you.

Your own hand reached out, grasping the other end of your sunhat as you lightly pulled it down - ready to meet the eyes of the one who saved your beloved hat and thank them.

"'ere you go, love."

Your mouth fell open, agape in pure astonishment and disbelief.

The way this person didn't pronounce his 'h'; the way he gave you that specific nickname; those familiar incredibly handsome facial features that belonged to ATJ himself.

This person was-

"Tangerine..." You whispered lightly under your breath, voice practically inaudible as it was drowned out by your pure amazement.

"Sorry?" Your favourite character rose one of his eyebrows, cockney accent as prevalent as ever.

Was this guy really Tangerine? There was no way, right?

"Oh, uhm, I said thank you."

He nodded briskly, about to turn and board the train when a voice called out to him.

"Oi! You coming?"

Another cockney accent paired with the broader figure and unique, silver-dyed hair that belonged to the brother of your favourite character.

That was Lemon, there was no doubt about it.

And if that was Lemon, this was definitely Tangerine.

You watched as Tangerine's facial features shifted, brows furrowing and lips tugging down as he turned towards his brother's direction. "Yeah, I'm coming! Hold your fuckin' horses, mate!"

He then immediately turned back towards you, eyes slightly wider than before. "Beg your pardon, love. Sorry, I forgot there was a lady present for a moment."

His chivalry was cute, and his looks just made him all the more attractive in your eyes.

Before you could even realise it, your lips curved upwards into a huge smile and a small, amused giggle left them as your eyes shone with mirth.

Once again, you seemed to have caught him off guard, causing his eyes to widen a little more as he paused for a moment. But that was all it was, just a moment. The next, he was shaking his head and heading off towards his brother without another word.

Holy shit, you just met the Tangerine!

The same Tangerine that you gushed to your sister about, complimenting his strength and looks and amazing accent.

But if you just met Tangerine... and you just saw Lemon with him... did that mean..?

"Holy shit! I'm in Bullet Train!"

One of your hands rose up to your mouth, pure excitement coursing through your veins as you refrained from letting out a high-pitched squeal.

Although, it wasn't long before that excitement of yours shifted into pure, unadulterated horror.

"Holy shit. I'm in Bullet Train."

Somehow, some way, you had died and got transported into the world of a movie.

And of all the movies you could have been transported to, it just had to be Bullet Train - the movie that ends in this very train flying off the rails and crashing straight into the ground underneath.

How the fuck were you supposed to survive a train crash from a vehicle going two hundred miles per hour?! You weren't Ladybug, you didn't have insane levels of luck!

Okay, okay, everything should be fine so long as you didn't board the train, right?

Dear lord, was this all really happening right now? Were you seriously in your favourite movie?

The setting and two of the characters matched exactly so you must be in the movie.

But then, what the hell happened to you? Who pushed you into that train? If you died, what would happen to Lena?

If you seemed to recall correctly, that person referred to you as a 'murderer'. They must've known, right? And if they knew... then that meant they would go after Lena too.

She would be fine though. You were caught off guard, a moment of weakness - Lena never had one of those. She was always on guard; had been since you both first agreed to stop. She could handle herself.

Yeah, she'd be fine.

Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Perhaps if you never boarded the train, you could go about your life as normal? Maybe start a new life here, completely fresh? You knew enough Japanese to get by.

Maybe you could start a nice, little bakery and get cute regulars that always asked for the same order. You could hire sweet people to work as waiters or waitresses and create treats for those around you to enjoy. Maybe you could even find the man of your dreams and start a family?

Oh, who were you kidding?

How on Earth could you find another man when you were literally in the same world as Tangerine?

No other man could scale up to the handsome assassin with anger issues.

That's right, he was an assassin. Both him and his brother.

If you recalled correctly, their current mission was to keep the White Death's son safe and retrieve his briefcase of money.

The White Death was a very dangerous individual. The head of a very dangerous criminal organisation.

He was powerful. Too powerful.

Did you really want to get yourself wrapped up in that?

A light bump against your side snapped you right out of your thoughts, causing you to look straight at the cause of the interruption.

"Sorry, that was my bad."

Your eyes widened by a fraction, gaze landing on the face of Brad Pitt himself.

The main character had just bumped into you. Ladybug, himself, had just bumped into you.

Ladybug was yet another assassin who had almost no affiliation with Lemon and Tangerine except for one time where he was shot twice by Lemon on one of his missions. Ladybug used to be brash and temperamental but you believed that, during the events of this movie, he was trying to turn over a new leaf and get his job done as peacefully as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he was both extremely unlucky and extremely lucky.

And he would also later find out that this mission of his wouldn't turn out as peacefully as he hoped.

"Miss, you good?"

You blinked twice, suddenly capable of seeing the furrowed brows of the laid-back male in front of you. He was probably concerned considering the fact that you phased out right as he bumped into you and apologised.

"Uh, yeah." You smiled, nodding your head very slightly. "Thank you for your concern."

He reciprocated your smile with one of his own, eyes twinkling a little in what you deduced was delight. "It was no problem. Y'know I admire your capability of putting that little interaction behind you and moving on. You go, lady."

Lena always found his little bursts of, what you liked to call, 'spiritual awareness' extremely irritating - although, you begged to differ. You found it cute how hard he tried to turn over a new leaf and gain a new attitude towards life. It was nice to see him try.

"Thank you." You bowed your head again, lips still stretched into that smile.

He then excused himself, putting the phone in his hand back up to his ear and walking over to the lockers behind you.

Well, now was probably your queue to leave.

So long as you never entered the Bullet Train, you should be completely fine, right?

With that thought in mind, you turned around, taking one step towards the exit of the station...

...and then a face flashed through your mind.

The handsome features belonging to your favourite character, drowning and choking in his own crimson substance, desperately trying to warn the main character; to let him know of the danger he was with; the danger he was right next to.

That's right... Tangerine died in the movie, didn't he?

Could you really sit back and relax, in the same universe as your favourite character, and not do anything to save him?

You paused mid-step as your chest heaved outwards, a large sigh escaping your mouth before, ultimately, you twirled around; gaze set straight onto the bullet train in front of you.

Curse your favouritism for ATJ.

Alright, well, if you were doing this, you might as well do it with some sort of preparation. Entering a train with several highly-trained assassins and surviving it was no easy feat, after all.

If you recalled correctly, which you almost a hundred percent did due to how many times you had watched the movie, Ladybug retrieved all the aids for his mission from that locker he just went to. In that locker should be a gun which he never bothered picking up.

If you could get your hands on that, you would be able to hold your own pretty well.

It should be fine, you were over your past anyway. It was no longer a bother so you would definitely be able to pick it up again.

Besides, you weren't gonna use it lethally. You swore off of that ages ago.

Now, your only problem was how to keep Ladybug from closing the locker after he was done taking out what he needed from it.

How did one stop another from closing a locker?

It's practically done from muscle memory; an action not given much thought but done as habitually as breathing was - something which was not easy to keep someone from doing without physically harming them.

And you would prefer not to harm Ladybug for the contents inside his locker.

Maybe if you...

No, that wouldn't work.

What if you-?

Nah, that definitely wouldn't do it.

Perhaps you could-

Before you could even think about the third thing, a familiar grey hat passed you - the same hat Ladybug wore throughout the start of the movie.

Did he just pass you?

In panic, your head frantically did a full one-eighty, eyes landing on the blue rectangular spaces lined up in a shelf behind you, one of which was very slightly open - Ladybug's to be specific.

Well, that was convenient.

With a confident strut, you made your way straight towards the locker - eyes trained on the prize. You stopped just a centimetre away from the shelf before your dominant hand rose up and pulled it open, gaze landing straight on the dark object to the side; completely untouched and fully-loaded.

Your lips turned upwards in a sense of accomplishment, despite the fact that you hadn't done much to acquire this object in the first place. Still, you reached for the pistol with that sense of pride - although, it slowly started to ebb away the closer your fingers got to the handle, nerves causing them to start to shake as they drew nearer and nearer; almost like you were about to touch something you suspected was poisonous. But it wasn't poisonous, it was just a gun. You could pick it up.

Yeah, you could pick it up.

Your fingers lightly grazed the familiar cold metal, flinching back after only two seconds of contact, eyes squinting shut as though it was going to explode merely from your touch; as though it would kill you to hold it.

But it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

It couldn't harm you without anyone touching it.

You were fine.

With a small breath of air leaving your lips, you curled your fingers back around the weapon, picking it up and immediately hiding it behind your hat. You waited a few moments; as if to really ensure you would be okay; as if to instil in your mind that it wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't hurt anyone else using your hands.

Then you turned around - eyes widening way more than usual as you witnessed the train start to move and the doors start to close. Quickly, you rushed towards it stumbling a little on your heels before your foot almost got caught on a wedge in the ground. It was at that point, you decided 'fuck it' and lunged towards the door, just barely falling inside the capsule between carriages as you rushed to pull your knees up, narrowly avoiding the doors almost cutting them off.

You let out a sigh of relief before getting up and dusting yourself off, using both your hands to place your hat firmly back onto your head, pushing down on the ridge to do so.

When your hands lowered once more, however, you caught sight of that wretched thing in them once again.

Your breath hitched in your throat; refusing to leave it as the drum of your heartbeat echoed through your ears, growing louder and louder and louder. You could feel it in your ears, as though it traversed your veins from your chest all the way up to the caverns you used to be able to hear, blocking out every other sound so that it was the only thing you could listen to because of how selfish it was for your attention.

As if that wasn't enough, you could even feel it slamming against your chest over and over and over-

-and then it all just stopped.

Just like that, gone.

Your shrunk pupils enlarged once again, eyes landing on the now-empty gun in your hand - the cartridge loaded with bullets having fallen to the ground underneath you.

Without even thinking, you threw the cartridge straight out the open window.

After heaving a few breaths, you realised what you had just done.

"Ah, shit."

What use was an unloaded gun to you now?

"Woah, what are you doing, lady?"

A sudden voice broke you away from your thoughts and caused your eyes to trail up, meeting a certain pair of mesmerising blue ones that belonged to the main character of the movie. You then slowly trailed your eyes back towards the empty gun in your hand before meeting the blonde's eyes once more and slowly, ever so slowly, raising both of your hands up.

"This isn't what it looks like."

He rose an eyebrow, eyeing the gun in your hand and then looking at your face once more.

"Awh, man, lady - I really thought you were better than this. A gun? Seriously?"

"No, no!" You quickly denied, shaking your head from side-to-side. "Seriously, I- I wasn't going to use it maliciously, I swear!"

"Look, we can talk this through, yeah?" He rose one of his arms to the back of his head, scratching it rather awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" You agreed. "I'd love that!"

"Okay, so how about we put the gun down first, yeah?"

You took off your hat, placing the gun inside before fitting it right back around your scalp and saying, "there. Out of sight, out of mind."

He gave you that same skeptical look you had seen in the movie and, now, had seen twice in real life. Then he decided to leave it be.

"Do you mind if we have this chat after this call I have to take? Sorry, I don't wanna be rude or anything but I did kinda leave someone on hold."

Ah yes, he was speaking to his Handler, wasn't he? The woman who gave him the job as opposed to his sick co-worker Carver, who was actually played by your favourite actor, Ryan Reynolds.

"Oh, yeah, go right ahead. I don't wish to interrupt." You added a little, nervous giggle to the end of that sentence; if only to further push the harmless citizen act you put on.

Act? Sorry, no - it wasn't an act. It was the truth. You were a harmless citizen. All you wanted to do was save your favourite character's life; nothing more, nothing less.

"Could you, uhh, follow after me? Just, keep a little behind though. Y'know 'cause... it would be kinda rude if you listened in on my conversation." He looked to the side awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah, I could do that."

It wasn't like you didn't already know his exact conversation like the back of your hand anyway. But he didn't know that and neither did he need to know that.

You then watched as he entered the next carriage, being stopped by the staff member who asked for tickets as he proceeded to give the receipt for his ticket but not the actual ticket itself - just one of the many instances where his bad luck kicked in.

Soon enough, it was your turn to follow after, walking down the carriage a little nervously as you were stopped by the exact same guy.

"Ticket please."

"Ah, right." You let out a little, nervous giggle similar to the one you did earlier. "Lemme just..."

You pretended to look for the tickets on your person, fully knowing that you didn't have any considering the fact that you were... well- not really part of this world until you opened your eyes straight after dying.

Your nervous smile grew even further as his gaze grew more stern.

"One stop."

"I know." You sighed, giving up on the act.

You then moved past the man, not wanting to stay any longer under his scrutinising gaze. It wasn't your fault you didn't have a ticket! This world didn't even exist!

Or- well, it shouldn't exist. But somehow, it did.

The door to the capsule in between carriages slowly opened as you approached, allowing you to step through and see Ladybug scouring through the shelves, looking for the briefcase he was assigned to retrieve.

"Oh, uh," as soon as he noticed you, he stopped his search; hand pausing where it was as his head faced you. "So, lady, wanna explain to me what was going on back there?"

"Oh, well... I was just making sure it wouldn't get into anyone else's hands, y'know?" You looked off to the side, wondering how you were going to get away with sneaking a gun on a train right in front of the main character, loaded or not.

"Uh huh..." he sounded skeptical - rightfully so, you would be too if this happened to you. "Why don't you let me hold onto it for ya?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

He gave you another skeptical look and you found yourself recalling The Prince's line in the movie, what was it again..? Ah, yes, 'the innocent girl act doesn't get you far when you have a gun in your hands' or something along those lines.

"Look, lemme just-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you started to spin on your heel and swiftly turned around, making you way back to the carriage you just passed - the carriage housing both Lemon and Tangerine if you recalled correctly.

"Wait! Lady!"

You chose to ignore his calls, continuing to walk until you reached the movement-sensitive doors that opened up for you once more.

Before you completely left, though, you gave one more glance over your shoulder, so sure that he would follow straight after you. You were proved wrong, however, after seeing him pause and reach one hand up to his earpiece, eyes immediately averting from your form over to the shelf once again.

The Handler must've-

Just then, your chain of thoughts was abruptly halted by a collision against your front side. The surface you collided with was rather hard, if you did say so yourself - so hard, in fact, that it caused you to lose balance on your heels - body beginning to stumble before a strong pair of arms caught your form.

"Fuckin' 'ell. Do you mind-?" An irritated voice paused mid-sentence. "Woah, you alright there, love?"

The familiar cockney accent had your heart beating right out of your chest and your head tilting up to peer through the ring of your sunhat and meet eyes with your favourite character himself.

Holy shit, Tangerine just caught you.

The Tangerine.

You could die (again) happy.

Dear lord. This was like all those scenes in those romance movies you would watch with Lena; the ones where the female lead would get caught in the male lead's arms and they would get lost in the endless pools of one another's eyes, drowning in the moment as time seemed to stop around them.

Just the thought that you were having that moment with Tangerine, your favourite character ever, was enough to fluster you beyond belief as a small, bashful smile stretched over your lips.

"'ang on..." he rose a brow, staring into your eyes with such intensity, you almost fainted then and there. "You're the girl whose 'at I caught."

"Yep, that's me." You let out a small, nervous giggle. "Sorry about bumping into you, I wasn't quite looking ahead of me."

At your words, his eyes trailed behind your form, furrowed with that irritated expression that seemed to never leave his face. "What? Is some fuckin' creep following you or something? You look worried."

"Oh no, not at all!" You quickly drew his attention away from Ladybug, not wanting to interfere too much with the movie's plot. "I'm just really clumsy. It's really hard to walk around in heels, haha."

"That so?" He rose a brow at your words but chose to press no further.

Instead, he slowly helped you back up onto your feet and you were so sure he would've left the interaction at that but you didn't want it to end so quickly. Call you selfish but, was it really too much to ask for your favourite character to stick around a little more with you.

So, in hopes of keeping him around for just a little longer, you winced and he immediately took notice.

In all his gentlemanly glory, he clutched your arms tighter and helped lead you over to the set of seats that were completely empty, aiding you in sitting down by helping to gradually lower your body.

Meanwhile, Lemon and the White Death's son both stared at you incredulously.

"Just... sit 'ere, yeah? 'Think those things may have twisted your ankle or something."

He was referring to your heels.

"Thank you, mister..?"

"Tangerine." He introduced himself before jabbing his thumb out towards his brother. "'E's Lemon."

You nodded, parting your lips before hesitating for a second. Should you give your real name? Everyone in the movie went by aliases, not a single real name was disclosed - other than Kimura, of course.

Then again, the reason they went with aliases in the first place was so that they couldn't have their personal information disclosed in the crime world. You literally had no personal information to your name.

Ah, fuck it.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Tangerine, Lemon."

The Brit then turned towards the Russian seated at the other window.

"See? She knows not to question it."

After that, he gave you a brisk nod and resumed taking his seat on the opposite end of his brother and the mob boss' son once more.

"Right, your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble what you got yourself into, didn't you, naugh'y boy?" Tangerine smirked as he taunted the boy.

His words damn near drew out a chuckle from your lips had you not restrained yourself enough. One slip of the tongue and you could be regarded as a threat by the 'twins' (a debatable title), and you did not want to be seen as a threat to the people who ended up sawing the limbs off a dozen of the White Death's men in Bolivia.

So, to fully ensure that no suspicion was instilled your way, you turned your head to the side, facing the window that sped by the land of Japan at high speeds, providing a vivid yet beautiful view of the country.

But that didn't matter to you, all you cared about was the reflection of the three men in the glass - looking exactly like they did in the movie. This way, if their comments brought about a smile on your lips - they wouldn't be able to tell you were eavesdropping.

It was such a shame that you missed out on Lemon's tangent about Thomas the Tank Engine though.

"Why, uh, why Tangerine though?" The Son asked, bringing you straight out of your thoughts.

"Oh it's a sophisticated name." Lemon answered.

"Oh, fuckin' 'ell. It's not impor'ant, is it?" Your favourite cut in, looking as annoyed as ever. "What is impor'ant are the seven'een dead bodies we left getting you back from the triad that kidnapped you with plans to ransome you to your extremely psychotic, fucked-up father."

"Actually, it's sixteen." His brother corrected him. Although, he himself wasn't correct since he wasn't counting that one innocent person they killed.

"What's that now?"

"Sixteen kills, mate."

"Oh no, it was seventeen."

"Iiiit's sixteen." Lemon drawled out.

"Lemon, you're starting to get on my fucking tits." Tangerine scowled and you almost let out a giggle as you watched them bicker back and forth.

"It's sixteen."

"I'll smash my fuckin' 'ead through a brick wall."

"Well maybe that'd help your memory 'cause it was sixteen."

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?! It was seventeen goddammit," Tangerine slammed his hand against the table before continuing, "I wanna fuckin' strangle you-"

"Do you mind if we do this right now?" Lemon turned to the Russian male sat beside him.

"Don't worry about him-"

If you remembered correctly, now would be the time where they showed a montage of what happened with Lemon and Tangerine before they entered the train with the White Death's Son.

The montage was funny to watch but Lena begged to differ, scowling at each and every thing they did on screen; loathing the corpses they left behind and the way they carelessly killed other people as if she didn't-

-ah, what were the characters saying again?

"Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransome money inside." You heard the character with the face of ATJ say as he looked off to the side, eyes seeming to search for something and growing more frantic the longer he couldn't find it. "And I plan on completing my job and keeping-

"Lemon." He interrupted himself as he called to his brother, pupils stopping their wandering around to land on the other man.

"Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh I stashed it."

A pause.

And then, Tangerine placed both of his hands on the table, fingers intertwined with one another. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

The broader male got up to do just that, leaving the two other males on the table alone. You could practically feel the stress seeping from the male with a cockney accent.

"You're a liability, you know?" The Son spoke up again. "To my father."

"Hm?" The Brit left at the table perked his head up.

The Son leaned in, facial expression hard to decipher through the glass - but it wasn't like you needed to, after all, you watched the movie a dozen times before. "He doesn't need a reason to kill people like you, he needs a reason not to. Does he have one?"

The assassin paused for a minute, giving the other male a weird look before opening his mouth as if to respond. Before he could though, his phone went off and he reached for it - though, not without uttering one last sentence. "That's fucking confusin'."

He then picked up the phone and gave his greeting before the male on the other side asked him for The Son, if you recalled correctly.

"What? You mean this dickhead with the silly face tattoos? Yeah, he's sat right here."

Ah, so you were right. Of course you were.

"Yes, of course..." the male continued after a pause, leaning backwards and peering to the side to see Lemon's form stressing over the fact that, unbeknownst to him, Ladybug had stolen the briefcase. Once Tangerine saw, however, the confidence in his tone fell and his voice wavered as he continued, "...I've got the case..."

He kept the phone up to his ear for only a few seconds after as his eyes furrowed and a flicker of realisation crossed over them before the phone in his hand slowly lowered to his side.

After ending the call with one of the White Death's men, he strutted over to the capsule his brother entered - the way he walked almost made a squeal pass out of your mouth - the straight line across his lips, the furrow of his brows, the way he fixed his collar; it was all so smooth, you couldn't help but want to swoon.

Once he left though, your rose-coloured lenses slowly paved way for you to finally see the bigger picture; to understand fully what sort of a predicament you got yourself into.

Your life could be in great peril (once again) because of one specific character that was on her way to this very carriage to kill the White Death's son himself...

...The Hornet.

I just love that Tangerine apologises for swearing in front of a lady before going ahead and doing it again haha

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