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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago

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Post It - Part 9 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings: none notes: HERE WE ARE MY LOVES. Another series in the books. I hope you liked this one as much as I loved writing it. as always, an extra special shoutout to @lestapiastrisgirl for listening to me whine and complaine and brainstorm at 2am. pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.8k words

|| - Part 1 || - Part 2 || - Part 3 || - Part 4 || - Part 5 || - Part 6 || -Part 7 || Part 8 || Master List

“Are you absolutely sure this is ready?” You ask nervously.

You watch Lando’s eyes flick between the laptop screen and your face, searching for any sign of doubt or deception.

“Baby, it’s perfect.” He assures you, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. “Just trust me, okay? Post it.”

You were perched on the edge of his hotel bed in Montreal, the lingering jet leg a dull ache in your bones. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, a chaotic blend of professional obligations and personal turmoil. After Spain, Lando had flown halfway around the world, joining you in New Zealand, where you’d been shooting content for Pretty Little Lens.

Your absence at the race in Spain had fueled a firestorm of speculation. Social media had exploded with rumors of a breakup, painting you as a home wrecker and Lando as a cheater. Despite McLaren’s legal action against Allegra and TMZ, the narrative had taken hold, fueled by the internet’s insatiable appetite for drama.

Lando’s suggestion of a week long, off-the-grid escape to Fiji had been a lifeline. It had been a chance to breathe, a chance for you and Lando to reconnect after a few weeks apart and the chaos that had been Monaco. And the vlog? The vlog was a chance to remind yourselves - and the world- of the truth behind the rumors and lies.

And now, here you were, the night before media day ahead of the Montreal Grand Prix, about the release a vlog that was as much a declaration as it was a travel diary.

“Mid-Season Trip to Fiji with Lan” the title declared, a bold statement against the tide of speculation. The vlog was a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the private moments of your relationship. Editing it had been so cathartic, a way to reclaim the narrative, to show the world that you were still together and still going strong.

“This might be your best work yet.” Lando murmurs, voice laced with genuine admiration. He nudges your shoulder playfully.

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Only because you’re the star of the entire thing.”

“I can’t help it if the camera loves me.” He retorts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, post it. Let’s watch the world explode.”

You take a deep breath, your finger hovering over the ‘post’ button. This was it, the moment of truth. “Here goes nothing.” You whisper, the click of the trackpad echoing in the quiet room.

The vlog flickers to life, the slightly shaky handheld footage immediately drawing the viewer in. Lando’s voice, warm and laced with playful anticipation pours from the speakers. “Alright, chat, she thinks my flight is delayed in Shanghai. Little does she know, I’m already here.”

The camera pans across the bustling terminal, a sea of faces blurring past. Lando’s excitement was palpable, radiating through the screen. “She’s not expecting me for hours so I’m on my way to find her.” He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looks directly into the camera.

The footage cuts to a shot of you, sitting in a chair, posture a mix of weary patience and slight annoyance, your attention fixed on your phone. You look a little tired, a little worn, but still undeniable pretty in Lando’s eyes. Lando’s voice softens, a note of tenderness creeping in as he talks to the camera. “There she is.” He murmurs and you can hear the awe in his voice as he stands for a moment just watching you. “Looking a little less than thrilled about my supposed delay.”

The camera shakes a bit as Lando starts to move, footsteps thumping against the tiled floor of the terminal. You remain oblivious until he’s standing right in front of you. The camera is fixed on your face as he chuckles lightly. “Is this seat taken, pretty girl?”

You lift your eyes and at first they’re guarded, thinking some random man is hitting on you but then it clicks and you see the recognition flicker across your face. Your eyes widen, expression shifting from annoyance to stunned disbelief. “Lando!” You cry. You launch yourself up and out of the chair and into his arms. The video shakes then and you lose sight of anything other than the ground but you can hear, just off camera, the sounds of your laughter mixing with Lando’s. The frame spins as Lando lifts you off your feet and twirls you around before he sets you down again, pressing a kiss onto your lips.

“You’re here!” You exclaim. “I thought your flight was delayed.”

“Nope.” He can’t wipe the grin off his face at the look of utter delight that crosses yours. The camera sways slightly again as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Surprise!”

The footage was raw, unedited, and a chaotic whirlwind of emotion. Your unguarded giggles, his laughter, the sheer unadulterated joy of your reunion. It was all there, unfiltered and real.

“You jerk!” You exclaim, swatting at his muscled bicep. “I was so worried the jet wouldn’t be able to take off so late and we’d be stuck here overnight.”

“The look on your face was worth it though.” He replies, voice thick with emotion, his eyes fixed on yours. “So worth it.”

The camera zooms in on your face, capturing the intensity of your gaze, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The footage was intimate, vulnerable, a glimpse into a private moment made very public.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Lando drops a kiss onto your nose before repositioning the camera so you’re both in the frame. “I love you too, pretty girl.”

Then, the camera cuts again, the scene shifting to a shot of you and Lando walking hand in hand through the airport towards the other terminal where your private jet will take you to the island that you’ll call home for the next week and a half before it fades to black before cutting to the next scene.

The next scene opens with you sitting at a vanity, the golden light of the Fijian sunset filtering warmly through the gauzy curtains to your left. The camera is set up so it has a good shot of you sitting in front of the mirror, framing the way you’re positively glowing with excitement.

“Alright guys.” You begin, addressing the camera with a bright smile. “Lets have a quick chat as I get ready for dinner.”

You stand up for a brief moment, twirling for the camera. “Here’s the ‘fit for tonight” The fabric of the long floral maxi dress you have on flutters out at your sides. When you sit back down, one of the thin spaghetti straps slips off your already tan shoulders. “Lan is being very mysterious about tonight.” You explain, a hint of amusement sparkling in your eyes. “He told me to dress ‘island chic’, whatever that means. I think the concierge told him to use those words. And to be ready by sunset. Which, by the way,” You grab the camera before padding over to the glass sliding door to behind you, showing off the vibrant hues painting the sky, “is happening right now. Oops!”

You sit back down at the vanity, setting the camera back where it was able to get a good shot of you and continue to chat as you apply your foundation. “We’ve had an amazing time so far.” You continue happily, unable to keep the giddy grin off of your face. Yesterday, we hired a guide to take us to these hidden waterfalls, which were absolutely breathtaking. And today,” You pause, biting your lip to keep from laughing, a playful grin spreading across your face, “we went horseback riding along the beach. Which was…interesting to say the least.” You chuckle as you begin to apply a shimmery eyeshadow to one of your eyelids. “Because apparently while my boyfriend is a surprisingly good rider, he’s also terrified of horses.”

Off camera, Lando’s voice echoes with mock indignation. “Hey! That horse was clearly out to get you! I probably saved your life.”

You turn towards the camera, giving the audience a deadpan shot of you rolling your eyes while shaking your head and mouthing ‘nope’ before you call back, “Sure, babe! Whatever you say!” You swipe a thin coat of lipstick across your lips before touching it up with a bit of gloss. “Anyway, tonights dinner is a total mystery. He wouldn’t give me any hints, just saying it was ‘special’.

You pause, biting at the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hide a smile. “Honestly though, this entire trip has been special.” You continue softly. “It’s been nice to just disconnect. To get away from all the drama and noise.” You glance at the camera, smily softening a bit more. “To just be us.”

With a shrug, you go back to applying your makeup, a final touch of blush completing the look. Just as you finish with some setting spray, the door behind you creaks open and Lando steps into the room. He’s dressed in a crisp tan linen shirt, the top most buttons undone, revealing a hint of tanned chest and a glimpse of a gold chain around his neck. His hair is damp and tousled, a few curls falling across his forehead.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice a low rumble as he comes to stand behind you.

You grab your camera and stand, assessing yourself in the mirror as Lando’s arms circle your waist before he drops his chin onto your shoulder, his eyes roaming over your reflection. The camera catches him blatantly checking you out and you blush when he presses his lips to your bare shoulder.

“Just finished. Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

Lando shakes his head before looking into the mirror so he’s making eye contact with the camera. “Nope. That is still a surprise. But I promise, it’s going to be a good night.”

And just like that, the screen goes black again.

When the video comes into focus again, the frame is focused in on overstuffed loveseat. Soft, golden lighting illuminates the scene: plush throw pillows are scattered haphazardly around the room, some of them spilling onto the floor, a blanket is draped over the back of the of the couch and a bowl of charred looking popcorn sits on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Alright, chat.” You say as you walk into the frame, satisfied with the angle your camera is pointing. “Movie night is off to a bit of a rocky start, but it’s fine. We can work with this, even if someone,” You pause, pulling a face before glancing over the top of the camera to where Lando stands, “burnt the popcorn and nearly burned the villa down.”

Lando groans as he steps into the frame, watching as you flop down on the couch, completely ignoring the popcorn bowl. “It was a tragic accident and I nearly died. I don’t know why you’re not more concerned about my well being.”

You roll your eyes. “Sometimes I swear my flair for the dramatic is rubbing off on you just a touch too much, my love.”

Lando pouts before sitting down next to you. He immediately pulls your legs into your lap, bare limbs still tanned and warm from the day spent laying out on the beach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am the most level headed person I know.”

Arching an eyebrow your shift your gaze away from your boyfriend towards the camera in a move reminiscent of Jim from The Office. “Just call you Oscar Piastry then, huh?”

Lando nods, “Exactly. Besides, that microwave was clearly sabotaged in order to make me look bad.

“Sure, babe.” You retort, rolling your eyes at the camera. “Just like the time the microwave in your apartment burned the rice you set to cook for 12 minutes instead of two?”

“That was an entirely different situation and you know it!” Lando argues, voice rising in mock outrage. “That microwave was faulty.”

You dissolve into giggles, head tilting back, eyes closed. Lando just looks at you, soft smile on his lips as he watches you. The comments in the video will call out this moment as Lando giving you the goofiest heart eyes they’d ever seen, worse than when he does PR videos with Oscar for McLaren.

“Anyway,” You say once you’ve regained your composure, you turn back to the camera. “We’re trying to decide on a movie. We have several options but we’re having a slight disagreement.”

“Slight?” Lando interjects sarcastically and you nearly swat at his arm in response to the sass. “I want to watch Top Gun, classic action right? SHE,” He gestures towards you before rolling his eyes, “wants to watch a lame romantic comedy.”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is not lame, Lando Norris!” You cry, finally reaching over to swat his bicep. Lando looks towards the camera, mock hurt playing on his face as he shakes his hand, rubbing at the spot where you hit him. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece!”

“It’s a cheesy, predictable mess.” He counters, frown tipping down the corners of his lips.

“Oh please.” You scoff, “You secretly love romance movies. Don’t you remember what happened the first time we watched The Notebook? You cried for almost an hour after it ended! I nearly had to call Max to make sure I hadn’t broken you!”

Lando stares at you, mouth agape, cheeks flushing a bright pink. “You swore we’d never speak of that again!”

You lean forward then, kissing him on the cheek before running your hands through his hair. “I like that you’re in touch with your feelings.” You coo as Lando grins a bit, liking the attention you’re giving him.

“Fine.” Lando concedes, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Now that you’ve told the entire internet my deepest darkest secret, I guess we can watch a rom-com. But! If I’m going to be forced to watch something so lame, I get to choose which one it is.”

“Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “And which one do you want to watch?”

“Love Actually.” He declares dramatically.

You burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I’m dead serious.” Lando insists unashamed. “It’s a classic!”

“It’s a Christmas movie!” You exclaim.

“It’s a timeless masterpiece!” He counters before grabbing a throw pillow and throwing it at you playfully. “And if you don’t agree, I’m just going to have to ask everyone on Instagram. They can have the final say.”

Your eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.” Lando replies, grabbing his phone. “And they’ll side with me. They always do.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Fine.” You concede. “But if we watch Love Actually, you’re taking me back to that little shop we were in earlier today and buying me those earrings I was looking at.”

“Deal.” Lando says, grinning triumphantly. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.” He grabs the remote, settling back into the sofa, a smug look on his face. You curl your body into his, your head resting on his shoulder while you tug a blanket up around your shoulders and over Lando’s lap.

The sound of the movie beginning is the last thing the audience sees before the scene fades to black once again.

The camera pans across an idyllic scene: crystal clear turquoise water lapping against a white sand beach, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. Lando’s behind the camera now, a low chuckle cuts through the sounds of the beach. “Alright, chat. My girlfriend disappeared over an hour ago saying she was going to read for a bit in the hammock behind our villa here while I did some training. I’m trying not to be insulted she didn’t want to work out with me but she claims she had some fairy men to read about or something. I don’t know if I should be threatened or not, to be honest.” Lando flips the camera around and rolls his eyes. “But now I’m bored and I think it’s time we go find out where she’s hiding.”

The camera follows him as he walks across the back patio of the private villa he’d rented this week, lush greenery filling the frame. Sunlight filters through the leaves, creating dappled shadows across the lawn. In the distance, you can see a hammock swaying slightly in the breeze, tucked up against the edge of the beach between two palm trees. “There she is.” He whispers, turning the camera back around so you’re in the frame as he approaches.

The camera focuses on you, peacefully asleep with a large book laying across your chest. The sun catches the curve of our cheek, casting a golden glow over your tanned skin. You look so peaceful, totally content, a small smile playing on your lips as Lando approaches.

“God, she’s so pretty.” Lando muses as he gets closer, voice soft so he doesn’t startle you awake. “Honestly, I don’t know what I did to deserve her.” He flips the camera back towards him and grins, whispering conspiratorially, “She’s the most incredible woman I know. Funny, kind, wicked talented…and she puts up with me.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Lando finally reaches the hammock, his footsteps light and careful not to disturb you. He watches you for a moment, the camera still on his face. The comments in the video later on will call out this moment hundreds of times. It’s the moment where people realize how wrong they were to believe anything Allegra had said. There was no denying that Lando was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long time after watching him watch you in that hammock that afternoon.

Carefully, he climbs into the hammock beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You stir slightly, murmuring in your sleep. Lando gently brushes a stray strand of hair from your face as the camera catches the way his eyes are filled with a mixture of affection and awe. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, his voice so soft the video barely catches it.

He leans in, lips brushing against your forehead. You stir again, shifting so you’re on your side, snuggling deeper into him. You make a sound that is similar to a cat waking up from a long nap, a drawn out cooing noise that has the Lando pulling you even closer to him. Your legs tangle together, one leg hitching up and over his waist. He wraps his arms around you, the warmth of his body dragging you under into a deeper sleep.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave, chat. Do you think McLaren would care if I just quit right here and now?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Just kidding, Zak!”

Lando smiles at the camera one last time, his eyes sparkling. “I think she likes it here too.” He observes happily. The camera focuses on the two of you, cuddled together in the hammock, your body curled into his. He gives the camera one last grin before moving his finger to switch it off, causing the scene to fade to black once again.

The last thing featured in the vlog had been Lando’s idea.

One after another, screenshots flashed by, slow enough to be read but fast enough to emphasize how many there were. Dozens of threatening texts, exchanges between Rich and Allegra, the texts that Lando had sent after meeting you.

Everything.

Dump her or else.

Hard launch me.

I’ll make something up.

You belong with me, you know that

Come back to me where you belong

It was never real

This was all fake

There’s someone else that I have real feelings for

Over and over the texts drift past and with every new message, the proof against Allegra mounts.

You knew it was going to be messy. You knew the fallout was going to be big but as you closed your laptop shut that night, you felt like you could breathe for the first time in weeks.

Lando shifted slightly beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulder instinctively. “Are you alright?” He murmurs, breath warm against your ear. While your eyes hadn’t left the screen the entire time the video had played, Lando had been preoccupied with watching you. Every flicker of your eyebrow, every tug of a smile, he watched and noted everything. The way your face fell when the screenshots started playing. The way you closed your eyes for the last thirty seconds of the video, choosing not to read the worst of the messages where Allegra had demanded Lando break up with you.

Everything. He was so glad you had decided to post everything and so glad that he was with you tonight as you both saw the views start to come in. Normally, you teased the hell out of a new video, told your followers on all platforms to expect a drop. This video had been a total surprise and it took a few moments for the post to gain traction, but both of you were sure that once it did, things for Allegra would be over.

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning to look at him for the first time since you pressed play. “Relieved mostly. I’m glad that’s over.”

Lando nods, his fingers tracing lazy patters on your back and you lean into his warmth. “Me too. It’s been…a lot.” He confesses before dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“I feel like I haven’t slept properly in weeks.” You whisper, the relief in your chest so profound you almost find it hard to breathe.

“Then lets fix that.” He says, voice thick with affection. He scoots his body so he’s laying with his head on the hotel pillow before he tugs you down with him. “Let’s just get some rest, okay?”

You don’t say anything in response, instead letting him pull you down so you’re tucked into the crook of his arm. He smells so good, fresh out of the shower that you drag in a deep inhale before allowing your eyes to flutter closed. The silence that blankets the room isn’t suffocating or oppressive, it’s peaceful and quiet, gentle and full of relief. No more threats, no more accusations, no more lies. Nothing. Allegra was finally taken care of and you felt like you and Lando could finally get your happy ending that you’d been waiting for since the moment he slid into your DMs.

Lando kisses your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that has your breath stuttering out of you. “Love you.” He says without removing his lips from your skin.

“I love you too.” You reply, voice raspy with emotion as your breath evens out and you tumble head first into a restful night's sleep.

yourusername posted

1,302,918 likes liked by lando, yourmother, mclaren and others yourusername little vacay vlog just posted. you'll want to stay til the end. ;) lando had the best time with you baby <3 >>>user999 boyfriend lando is the best lando >>>user544 the way he surprised her in the airport! The way he looked at her when she snuggled into him on the hammock! The way she looked at him during the GRWM! My heart. user992 I KNEW SHE WAS GONNA BE MESSY. user100 where are all the allegra apologists now? WE WANT AN APOLOGY. >>>user019 seriously. those texts? UNHINGED user010 all together now, 'WE'RE SORRY MOM AND DAD' user235 the way Lando looked at her the entire vlog? omg >>>user555 those two are end game and you can't change my mind user399 can confidently say I was always #teamyourname user000 @/its_allegra_babes is awfully quiet now... >>>user333 probs on the phone with her attorney

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yodaprod · 1 year ago

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James Cameron tests the Handheld Minigun during a pre-production shooting session for Terminator 2: Judgment day.

#the terminator #james cameron #behind the scenes #bts #1990s #90s #90's

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 3 months ago

Note

hi my time lord friend uh is bleeding a LOT. like they're glowing type of a lot. i got them into the zero room in their TARDIS but is there anything else i can do i am scared

First off, take a deep breath. You're already doing a great job by getting them into the Zero Room—it's a good starting point. However, based on your description, you need to act now.

1️⃣Assess the Situation (GASS/ABCDE Protocol)

Perform an emergency assessment to determine the extent of the physical trauma:

GASS (Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System)

This will give you a sense of their overall condition. Find it here.

ABCDE Protocol

This gives you a practical guide to stabilising them as quickly as possible. Find it here.

2️⃣Identify the Cause of the Bleeding

This seems like a prolonged bleed. Gallifreyans generally clot very quickly, so prolonged bleeding could indicate:

Hypoartronosis: Insufficient artron energy could disrupt clotting and healing. Use the Artron Detectors in the TARDIS infirmary to measure their artron levels. Levels under ≤10 mg/dL are indicators of hypoartronosis. This will stabilise over a few days.

Injury Severity: A deep or critical wound that the body is struggling to repair requires medical intervention.

Reaction or Disease: Exposure to toxins, temporal radiation, or disease could interfere with healing.

3️⃣Move Them to the TARDIS Infirmary (if Possible)

While the Zero Room is great for stabilisation, you'll need the medical tools in the infirmary to handle heavy bleeding:

Advanced Diagnostic Terminal (ADT): Run a scan to pinpoint internal damage, blood loss, or underlying conditions. The holographic guide can walk you through treatment if needed.

Surgical Containment Web: Use this for critical wounds. It will remove damaged tissue, reconstruct missing flesh, and reattach severed parts if necessary.

Handheld Healing Devices: Use these for minor wounds to speed up clotting and tissue repair.

If you're confident, transfer them out of the Zero Room and into the infirmary to use the technology.

4️⃣Encourage a Healing Coma

If your friend is conscious but struggling, encourage them to enter a healing coma. This allows their body to focus energy on repairing itself.

5️⃣Avoid Human Medications

Unless you're a qualified Gallifreyan medic, don't administer human medications. Time Lord biology reacts unpredictably to non-Gallifreyan substances, and you could inadvertently make things worse.

6️⃣Monitor for Signs of Impending Regeneration

The glowing suggests that regeneration might be on the horizon. Watch for these signs:

Excessive glowing or flickering.

Sudden spikes in energy or pain.

Disorientation or emotional instability.

If they are regenerating, focus on keeping them calm and in a safe environment. Avoid interfering with the process.

🚨If Unsure, Call for Help

If your friend's condition doesn't improve, the best course of action is to contact a qualified Gallifreyan medic or someone familiar with TARDIS medical systems. Reach out via the TARDIS comm systems.

📜Summary

Assess their condition using GASS/ABCDE.

Identify and address the cause of bleeding.

Move them to the infirmary for active treatment if possible.

Use the Advanced Diagnostic Terminal and Surgical Containment Web for serious injuries.

Encourage a healing coma.

Avoid human medications.

Monitor for signs of impending regeneration.

Your friend's TARDIS has the tools you need. Let us know if you need more guidance!

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #time lord biology #ask answered #GIL: Asks #gallifreyan biology #GIL: Biology #GIL: Biology/Integumentary #GIL: Biology/Medical #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans #GIL

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spookyspecterino · 1 year ago

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Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage.

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn’t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

#Tangerine x Reader #Fem!Reader #Tangerine Bullet Train #Bullet Train

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system-architect · 1 year ago

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handy cheat-sheet for asura roleplayers of some various Lore Words for what to call things btw

computer/pc ----> console (used various times ingame)

tablet/other handheld touchscreen device ----> datapad (used here); i also personally use dataslate

email (or some kind of chat) ----> inter-terminal communication (used here); i tend to refer to email as "ITC" for short

phone/phonecall ----> comms, comms device, communicator, comms call, comms channel, 'scrambled comms', etc-- this one is used a copious amount of times within the main story itself. they seem to be earpieces that nebulously work like both a phone and a radio, utilizing different channels and frequencies, and they can have voicemail left on them

other interesting things of note:

the asura or at least the inquest do have some sort of parabolic antenna or satellite dish technology, used for communications

there's no specific word for it, but asura do also have TV with news stations/reporters. i tend to use holoprojector or holoviewer-- the latter can be shortened to HV!

if you choose the transatmospheric weather converter storyline, your character's own invention is just (H)VAC

#my stuff #im ngl i just invent stuff for them and pick techy words for it all the time bc i dont care =_=#asura are allowed to invent reddit as a little horrible treat #but anyways these ones do exist ingame at least. woo!

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napoleontheintrovertedcat · 3 months ago

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I want a time wasting device, running some form of Linux to do nothing but something. Think of those terminal devices, the handheld ones whatever they are called ( I think dev term) but not made for linux.

I need a little project to put Linux on like somebody should put me in a maid dress.

Linux = :3

:3 = happy

#:3 #linux #linuxposting #debian #memes

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eyeofhurakana · 2 years ago

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Title: “Unlike Fiction” Chapter: 1/1? Pairing: Sampo x Reader, Gepard x Reader Reader: Gender Neutral / Illegal Underworlder living in Overworld Relationship Level: Sampo - Ex-Beau / Gepard - Current Beau Trust: Sampo - Low / Gepard - Moderate Summary: You decide to show up for Gepard’s celebration for becoming Captain of the Silvermane guard at Serval’s request. However, things don’t go as expected… Warning!: Cursing, Thoughts of Self-Harm (No harm though!)

Glimmering glass chandeliers, bubbling champagne, and a cast of incredibly wealthy persons that all seem to know one another only skin deep…

This scenery is straight out of any romance novel conveying star-crossed lovers of opposing social classes. Though you had to admit, the authors really nailed it. You always thought that at least some of it had to be a little embellished. Yet just as they say, even the ceiling of this immense manor is painted with glorious recounts of Belobog’s long history with awe-inspiring detail.

Your fingers squeeze around the stem of your champagne glass.

The nobles that have gathered are all dressed to the nines. Some even go so far as to wear flowers that are worth at least six years of your own pay. You gulp when you catch sight of a few of the noble ladies standing off to the side in a huddled corner with handheld fans up, covering the lower part of their faces. Quickly, you avert your gaze.

You already know they’re talking about you. Not that it matters. Gossip is a game for the small-minded and weak-willed.

Though you can’t help a certain thought that keeps besieging your mind.

Should you really be here?

“There you are!” Serval calls excitedly with no bother to maintain the rules of decorum as she hurries over to you.

Thank Qlipoth…

Her outfit fits the atmosphere but you feel a sense of pride to see that she never took out her punk rock highlights. It gives you a sense of solidarity as there were a few things in your own look that you refused to change just for a single event.

She definitely gets a few irksome looks, for the mere sin of existing. But like the magnificent storm queen that she is, she doesn’t even care. Immediately, you feel like you’ve found refuge the second she hooks her arm around yours.

“Ugh, thank goodness that you’re here. I was about to lose my head just a moment ago,” she huffs lightly before leaning into you with a relieved smile, “Seriously. I’m really glad you came. I know this isn’t what you’re used to… but if I know Geppie, he’s going to love it that you're here.”

“You really think so?” you ask, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Of course! Oh god. You should see how he lights up whenever he mentions you. I swear, you’re like his favorite subject to talk about these days. He barely mentions work anymore. Thank you, by the way. That subject was getting a bit tiresome, but I never really knew how to break it to him, you know? I’m just still sore after the whole… Well… You know.”

Her cerulean eyes drift downwards.

Serval’s sudden termination from the Architects was definitely a huge blow. It was still fresh in her mind despite it happening over a few months ago. Even so, you could still see the cracks it left in her.

It was a miracle that she didn’t give up hope on everything entirely…

You squeeze her arm a little to bring her back to the present before she can drown herself in the past.

“Hey, let’s just enjoy ourselves then. We’ve been through hell. It’s the least we can do, right? We can even see this as, I dunno, reparations for stupid bullshit?”

“Reparations for Stupid Bullshit. RSB. I like it,” Serval laughs with a delighted nod, gladly going with the flow, “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

She squeezes you back. An appreciative thank you.

The two of you end up tearing up the tables filled with fancy cocktails and hors d'oeuvres while chatting about everything and nothing. By the time the great big announcement comes around, both you and Serval are incredibly - and happily - drunk. Restraint isn’t exactly a strong suit for either of you. It’s probably why you get along so well.

When Gepard is announced as the next Captain of the Guard, you both end up hooting and hollering like fools. You get a few glances from those surrounding you and even Gepard breaches the usual protocol to peek.

But he doesn’t smile when he sees you.

Instead, his eyes widen, brows flying up. Then he turns to face front and center like the soldier he’s trained to be.

“...”

A sudden sick, sinking feel forms in your chest.

What was that?

It doesn’t help that you’re intoxicated. The wall that usually keeps the worst thoughts out suddenly isn’t there anymore. Worries flood you without hindrance.

The dam of reason isn’t there to protect you.

“The hell was that?” Serval says, only escalating your worries, “He saw us, right?”

You purse your lips tightly, unable to reply.

Gepard receives praise from both of his parents as well as a few renowned dignitaries. It takes everything you have to keep Serval from breaking into tears at the sight of Cocolia. Serval ends up holding your hand with such a tight grip that her fingernails dig into your skin. But you let it happen. You know how deep those emotional wounds have cut…

She’s barely holding herself together.

“Serval…”

“Don’t tell me we should go. I-I deserve to be here too,” she insists shakily which is remarkably perceptive for own so heavily inebriated, “If anything… she’s the one that doesn’t belong here… This is my home. My home.”

The pain in her voice pulls at every heartstring inside of you. But you have to be the least drunk between you. …Since sobriety is long, long gone.

“I… need to use the bathroom,” you say.

It’s not a lie entirely. Besides, she won’t question it. You don’t know your way around this place like she does.

“Oh shit. Sorry. Yeah, of course. Come on. I’ll take you… woah. Um… Let me hang onto you.”

It takes a little while to find a washroom. It seems Serval’s mind keeps getting muddled from having seen Cocolia. But you keep your patience. It’s what you’d want from your friend if this ever happened to you…

By the time you get to a nearby empty washroom, you barely shut the door when you hear Serval breaking into tears. Your heart becomes heavier than you’re used to. Maybe because you’re pretty sure that you’re bound for one more heartbreak today.

Gepard’s face the moment he saw you in the crowd has yet to leave your mind.

As much as you’d like to hope… you feel that you already know.

He didn’t tell them…

You sit there on the closed toilet for barely a moment before breaking out into silent tears.

This… always… happens.

You try to keep quiet as best you can. You don’t like expressing your pain to others. Your upbringing discouraged showing weakness of any kind. To those around you at that time… you were an incessant inconvenience.

Even still, you hear a soft knock on the door.

Serval sniffles just behind it.

“Are you crying?” she asks with a genuine sweetness behind it, despite her own anguish, that just makes something inside of you crumble to dust.

A sob escapes despite your damnedest attempts to keep it in.

You don’t want to be a burden.

Yet before you know it, she’s already come in and hugs you tightly without reservation. You don’t remember how long the two of you bawl your eyes out, but it’s enough that Serval has to reapply both her and your makeup.

Every noble wears makeup and she’ll be damned if she lets one of her few closest friends walk around shabby.

“Hey, hey. I know you’re worried…” she says while gently applying another coat of foundation on your cheeks, “But I’m telling you, my brother would never ever do that to you. Ugh… He’s nothing like that con man. Ugh… I’m so sorry that I even introduced you to that jerk. He just… He didn’t seem like that, you know?”

She popped her foundation away back into her hidden dress pocket before pulling out some eyeliner to fix the mess under your eyes.

“Geppie is different. I swear. I’ve never heard him tell a lie in his whole life.” Her motions slow as she remembers the look he gave both of you during the celebration of his promotion. “I… I’m sure he had his reasons for reacting so weird. Maybe he was just really surprised?”

You smile weakly despite not believing that.

“You’re probably right,” you fib.

Damn. You were already exhibiting bad habits from said someone…

“Don’t worry. We’ll talk to him soon.”

And just like that, the two of you return to the party though it’s mostly over and done with. Only a few of the major boozehounds stay for the free alcohol while others try some last minute attempts to schmooze with those of higher standing.

Eventually, Serval learns where Gepard retreated off to in search of some solace.

“This’ll be great. I’m sure of it,” she says as she pulls you along.

But with every step, you feel like you’re nearing an execution. The type that can tear the very soul in half while keeping the physical body intact.

“Stay here,” she whispers to you, leaving you just outside the doors before dramatically shoving them open, “Little bro!”

You can hear the shifting of his armor along with his footsteps as he turns to face his older sister.

“Serval…”

Gepard's voice sounds heavy. No matter how much you rewind it in your head, there’s no mirth in it.

“Surprised?” she asks as she hugs him suddenly, “Didn’t think I’d miss your big day, did you?”

“...”

“Gepard?” she asks before leaning back to eye him better.

“You shouldn’t have brought them…” he murmurs but it’s not low enough that you can’t catch it.

The ground beneath you becomes like thin ice over a frigid lake. Each word he says produces a fresh crack, branching out to assure your inevitable destruction.

“What? What do you mean? Aren’t you glad to see them? Gepard, you two are dating. Of course, I’d-” Serval then suddenly stops.

You drop your head as you feel an uncomfortable heat rising along your neck and ears.

Mortification.

She takes a step back.

“You didn’t tell them?” she asks but she’s not really asking.

Her tone sounds utterly appalled.

“I-I was working on it!”

“Gepard! You said-!”

“I know what I said!”

You can’t take anymore.

Removing your shoes, your footfalls become nearly silent as you make a desperate retreat for the nearest open balcony. The freezing air greets you the moment you step out. With a shudder, you make it to the nearest portable heater, switching it on. With time, it glows a gentle orange that reminds you of the Geomarrow where you’re really from…

The place that you should feel ashamed of…

A tear escapes you but you quickly wipe it away, refusing to cry any longer.

Then… in just that moment…

A crazy thought invades your mind.

This is very high up.

…Anything could happen.

A despairing croak escapes you as you grip onto yourself tightly.

No, no, no. Not these thoughts.

Anything but these thoughts!!

It’s like fighting against the blinding cold winds of the Great Freeze. There’s no escape and before you know it, you’re completely lost within its windchill.

If only you hadn’t left… Being alone and disturbed with far too much alcohol always makes for a tragedy waiting to happen…

Please… Someone… I don’t… I don’t want…

And then the improbable happens.

A light flickering in the distance.

At first, it seems random until you realize it remarkably seems like the code that-

No bloody way.

‘Hey there, friend.’

That’s what it says.

Your eyes widen.

No way, no way, no way.

Quickly, you pull out the pocket mirror Serval had lent you. Well, given you, but it was way too expensive to keep on your person. You would sneak it back into the untouched mounds within her workshop later.

For now, you pop it open and use the mirror to reflect the light to message back.

‘Friend or foe?’

You wait with great anticipation for the next reply. At first, you think it might not come, but it does.

‘Friend?’

A desperate laugh escapes you as you can tell right away who this is.

‘Idiot.’

He doesn’t miss a beat.

‘Your idiot.’

You frown.

‘Not mine.’ You correct firmly.

Then nothing. A part of you gets tense.

Did you ruin it? If so, then was it for the best?

But those thoughts vanish when you finally see the light flash again.

‘Are you okay?’

Now it was your turn to give pause. Were you okay?

Your hands trembled around the mirrors as fresh tears fell. This was a pivotal moment. You could feel it.

The air felt like it had been sealed in an invisible vacuum. Static silently building within…

You look toward where you came from.

Neither Landau has come for you…

Too busy bickering, no doubt.

You lightly bite down on your tongue to try and stop the tears but it’s futile.

‘Not okay.’

The next response is so quick that you nearly miss it.

‘SOS?’

You tense.

Your next response will be huge for what happens next…

‘SOS?’ He asks again. “...”

No. The pain is too much. You want out.

‘SOS.’

You wait a few minutes there for a response or anything… but there’s nothing. Your shoulders drop with regret at showing even a hint of your vulnerability to an ex of all people. He probably just found your pain entertaining. Maybe he was taking pictures on his phone right now.

Well, might as well give him the best shot.

You weep quietly from where you lean against the railing… only to feel a sudden rumble from the west side of the manor. It… felt like the kind of shockwaves a bomb gives.

Did he just-?!

The clanking of metallic armor stomping down the halls fills your ears as commands are shouted at length. You debate leaving the balcony but now you’re scared. What if you’ve been lured into a trap? What if you’ll be made the scapegoat? What if-

“Hey there.”

You turn to see the dual dagger-wielding rogue lifting himself with ease over the railing. You were at least three stories high… Had he really just scaled all of that on his own?

Those enchanting green eyes capture you in an instant as they seem equally mesmerized to see you again. A relieved smile spreads across his face as he tilts his head.

“Heard you wanted a swift exit?”

AN: *sipping on Bicardi* Wow. I did not expect to write this… Thank you magic bat.

For those of you that made it this far, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

This could continue but we'll see. Love Triangles are pretty fun though, eh?

#sampo #sampo koski #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader #hurakana fic #star rail #sampo simping #gepard landau #gepard #serval landau #gepard x reader

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