#bullet train canon

[kino-rogers]

He is always a call away (Tangerine/Reader)

Word count: 825 (reasonably short and sweet)

Song: 0800 HEAVEN | Nathan Dawe, Joel Corry, Ella Henderson (listen, I know the vibes don't fit but the lyrics inspired me to write this aha)

Short summary: Bullet Train happens and everything goes down as it does in the film. Reader is trying to process that Tangerine won't come home again.

Warnings: Canon typical swearing, angst, (light) past trauma mention

notes: thank you @nocturnest for jumping on this to fix my broken English and being a wonderful beta!! what an intro but uh [coughs] i'm already excited to write more for this fandom (bits in which Tangie is very much alive ehehe) anywaayyy, hope you guys like this!! - 🥝

It's not been the… easiest time - it has to be said.

Since that phone call from Lemon, you've been struggling with sleep. It doesn't show in your work, of course. Keeping up appearances has always come to you rather naturally. Some of it being from your repressed trauma, that even years of therapy barely scratched the surface of, but also because of your line of work too. It doesn't sit well to be an emotional wreck after every kill you're paid to do.

The call was from a number you didn't recognise. The passing sound of traffic suggested it's from a payphone as Lemon sighed heavily down the line.

"You lost your phone? On a train?" You answered the call lightheartedly and you recognized his sigh immediately, you hoped it was just a release of pent up tension over a job well finished. Although, the fact that Lemon was the one to call, put you on edge, hoping it's not coming through your pretend jolliness.

"He's gone." His statement was simple and sudden. The tone, stone cold, as his voice was raspy, possibly from crying.

"Who's gone, Lemon?"

Your throat ran dry as you swallowed around a lump. Your chest quickly tightened as you tried to piece together what he could have meant. You couldn't- no, didn't want to think about the most likely possibility.

"Tan-" He took a pause, cleared his throat before continuing. "Tangerine, was shot in the neck, he is gone."

It's not like you guys were dating, no, it wasn't anything like that. Neither of you had the emotional capacity for that. What, with your jobs requiring you to spend weeks, months away from each other at a time, sometimes in different countries, opposite sides of the world. But he was the first person, in a long while, that you genuinely cared for.

~~~

You turn to your bedside table, glance at the alarm clock there. Its digital display shines in orange numbers, 01:54.

It's a month, today.

You suddenly have a stupid idea. What would happen if you called his number? Last time you checked it was still live, it'd probably just take you to voicemail. Weirdly, your therapist at your last session suggested writing letters to him, in your bereavement. Bereavement. Such a weird word. You're not even sure that's what this is. But maybe leaving a voicemail would be an equivalent. Maybe he can listen to his voicemails, wherever he is. You scoff at the fleeting thought but reach for your phone anyway.

Tangie is still in your recent calls. You tap the saved contact and wait for it to ring.

You're not expecting anyone to answer, of course not. Your grief hasn't driven you completely nuts. But as the phone rings, you can't help but think about getting to talk to him, just once more. By some divine intervention, you'd be connected through to him, in the afterlife and you could tell him everything you couldn't the last time you spoke.

"-after the beep BEEP"

"Hi Tangie," You scoff in embarrassment, not really sure why you're doing this anymore. "I uh,"

You sigh heavily, all too aware of the silence the machine is expecting you to fill. You sniffle as you start to speak again.

"I know you won't hear this. That… Isn't really the point." You draw a shaky breath. "I know who did it though. Well, knew. Lemon and I took him out last week. What kind of an assassin's name is Ladybug anyway?" You snicker. Can't avoid the tightness in your chest though.

"I just… I dunno. Apparently I should be writing letters to you, as if I could send them off with a pigeon and they'd get to wherever the fuck you are. So, this is the next best thing. If this was anyone else, you'd tell me to fuck off and to suck it up. We always were on the same wavelength, when it came to feelings." Your chest deflates with a long exhale as you realise you need to stop dancing around whatever it is you're trying to say here.

"I guess I just wanted to tell you I really fucking miss you." You sniffle again, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "I miss your stupid grin, your teasing, your annoyingly cocky attitude, your… The way you looked at me."

"I wish you were here right now so I could tell you I love you. I wish I didn't, I really goddamn wish I didn't care for you so much but I fucking love you. And I hate that I can't see your face as I told you, for the first time. Please call me back."

You bury your face in your pillow and you howl into it, sobs shaking your body as the voicemail recording is saved and you continue to wallow in your bereavement. You're supposed to be feeling better. You need to stop paying your therapist.

[ineffably-queer]

HELP IM DYINF

art:

https://twitter.com/hvdwfa?s=20

[babygirltangerine]

i'm always thinking about how he fixed his hair between these two scenes

[ladybugsbadluck]

just a few thoughts on tangerine

tangerine is a fucking brat. he's a brat, no way around it. he's an angry, anxious mess that is anxious cause he's angry and angry cause he's anxious. he's determined and sassy and strong-willed and stubborn and mouthy. man, does he talk back. he's such a brat. and it's obvious Lemon is one of the only people he trusts.

which is why it is so shocking, to me, how quick he was to let Ladybug free from the threat of the chopsticks (his will that could only be from the strength and determination of a bottom) and get close to him and befriend him. he trusted ladybugs input and plan SO fast. he protected him, tried to warn him about the Diesel, and still, STILL, even AFTER Ladybug accidentally shot him, he was trying to warn him, to protect him, to not let whatever happened to Lemon, happen to the one person he had left on this train. he was so worried, and yeah, annoyed, but not angry like he would have been if it were someone else that he hadn't come to trust. not one threat against Ladybug's life, just a warning of protection.

why? is it to honor his, what he thought was dead, brother's judgement? or is it because of what he himself saw in Ladybug?

I think Tangerine would be annoyed once he woke up in the hospital, and even put up a front of anger, but he'd definitely be relieved. Relieved that the Diesel hadn't killed his brother and relieved that the diesel hadn't killed his...well, hadn't killed,

Ladybug.

[blingblingsparklesparkle]

So

Ladybug Maria and Carver in high school.

[dirtylittlediesel]

lemon, pulling tangerine aside after watching him and ladybug bicker for thirty seconds:

tangerine this man is three times your age doesn't use sunscreen takes iPad selfies. are you sure this is the energy you want to bring into OUR lives. do I get veto power

[burneraccountbutiactivelyuseit]

I have so many questions for this fandom. Like when the fuck did everyone simultaneously agree Lemon would be the designated getaway driver and Tangerine would be a man whore. We gathered all of this from a two hour movie where Lemon crashes not only once but TWICE and Tangerine does the absolute MOST to not be touched by anyone including CHANNING FUCKING TATUM

[peachyspaceslvt]

Nut up or shut up

[ferrymann]

west ham game today. lem and tan watching it together. ahem. alive.

[phierie]

quiet hours

(rough doodle)

[beentobeetle]

They wouldn’t stop bickering and everyone was getting tired of it sooooo

[erischeatsdeath]

i love how the twins canonically wear these plastic rain poncho things so their outfits don't get fucked up during missions but we as a fandom collectively ignore this in favour of the image of tangerine disheveled and covered in blood.

[babygirltangerine]

something something that quote from the book where ladybug asks tangerine what he gets out of being so distrustful and tangerine tells him it's how he's stayed alive so long something something tangerine being so enthralled by ladybug's idiocy that he leaves himself open to getting kicked off the train something something tangerine seeing ladybug and lowering the gun something something tangerine dying by ladybug's hand. and trust.

[laughableillusions]

How it started vs how it’s going

[avocado-writing]

.... how would you feel about writing something, anything at all, for the white death? your work is always brilliant & I hope you're having a lovely weekend 💕

My friend M and I were discussing WD hcs recently so this is well timed!❤️

He likes to keep you on his lap in meetings. 

He never likes you to go far anyway, but at times like these he’s… especially possessive. He likes to show you off. You are his prettiest piece of art, and that is an objective fact. Always dressed perfectly. Designer gowns, shoes, makeup - anything you want, you just need to ask and he gives it to you. Anything your pretty little heart could possibly desire. 

Oh, he adores you. 

Your seat is his thigh, your legs neatly tucked in against his body. One of his hands spans your waist and the other has alighted on your knee; he keeps you firmly in his grasp. You sit up straight, chest out. Look good. He doesn’t ask much of you, just these little things. 

The other members of the syndicate keep their eyes carefully off of you. If they were to look at you covetously, or with any sort of disdain, the White Death would make them pay for it dearly. There’s still an empty chair around the table from when one associate scoffed when it was announced there would be a celebration for your birthday. 

After both his legs were broken, your lover had made him crawl across the room using only his arms and kiss your Louboutins for forgiveness. You’d offered it, but a bullet had still been put through his head. 

He leaves the seat open as a reminder. 

The meeting is called to a close, all business dealt with, and the inferiors head off. The White Death holds you closer, pressing his face to your clavicle. Kissing the bones under your skin. There is no need to be loquacious in these moments. He just wants to touch you, feel you, know you’re his and his alone. 

And you are. Oh, you are. 

[dirtylittlediesel]

crazy how bullet train production company managed to make a movie where every single character is queer including the snake