#Sides I'm trying to be less anxious with my work and not he such a perfectionist. So we ball

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Every variation of Tim gets a cat brings me so much joy

[dirtylilspawn]

hi, i recently discovered your account, and now i'm just in love with your fics, i really liked the headcanons about reader manhandling lads boys. Can you do a reverse version? like, if they wanted to take revenge.

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴘᴛ. 2

Summary: The lads boys manhandle you right back.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Rafayel x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Zayne x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hi!!! I'm so happy you like my fics especially the manhandling one, I had fun writing it. And it seems like a lot of people love it haha! Pls don't be afraid to ask anything else you want me to write next. Give me some more good inspiration yall, for me to work on lol. Manhandled pt. 1

Warnings: Fluff & humor, some suggestive stuff, cursing, jealousy, drunk reader

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel frequently visit the beach whenever you can.

A was special place for the both of you.

It was summer break, a good excuse to once again visit the ocean together. Staying away from the heat, enjoying each other's company, eating great food, and walking along the sandy beach. That was your typical outing with Rafayel. And if you were feeling more adventurous, Rafayel would take you deep diving along the ocean floors. The two of you swimming along the currents, seeing the beauty of every coral reef or fish, and many other sea life.

Right now, your whole body was floating along the calm waters.

Your back and legs carried by the cool ocean, cradling you with ease. Your eyes were connected with the bright blue sky above you; a few small clouds pass by but otherwise it was a clear sky today. You smiled while letting out a chilled sigh.

You came over to Rafayel's place, wanting to use his private beach to relax and have fun. It has been a suffering hot for the last two weeks, and you needed a break. You didn't even ask him, the moment you showed up to his home, you were already in your two-piece swimsuit. A pretty white bikini with pink shell tracings along the edges, strings wrapping around your neck and upper torso, while the bottoms had string bows on the side of your waist. You also wore a pink see-through coverup with sandals. And to top it off, you held a basket filled with sandwiches, drinks, snack, desserts, that the two of you enjoyed.

This was a surprise of course, but a very openly welcomed surprise to Rafayel none-the-less. Seeing you in such a visually pleasing bikini was nothing but perfection in Rafayel's world, plus there was food, so really, he couldn't deny you. If he could, he'd tell you to dress like that all the time, 24/7. The only problem would be the onlookers gawking over your beauty, plus he knew you'd be against it anyways. A man can only dream.

Anyway, your thoughts soon came to a halt as you suddenly wondered to yourself, where the heck was your boyfriend? He was here with you during the early day, bathing in the sun, playing few games, swimming together. But as you look to both your sides seeing empty water, and Rafayel's beach cabana empty. You can't even hear him, and you were starting to get a bit anxious.

The last time you heard his voice before relaxing on top of the ocean, was that he'll be right back. That he was going to get something before returning to you. That was seven minutes ago

You didn't know what he was trying to do or get at, but it shouldn't take that long...right?

"Rafayel!?"

You called out as your body was still floating above the water. You hear nothing, no reply back. The only sounds were the wind blowing through some trees, and the swishing of the ocean underneath you.

"Where is he? He didn't ditch me...did he?"

You bite your lip, eyes staring up at the sky with a narrowed glare. Your throat emitting an annoyed groan as another minute passes on.

"He wouldn't...I bet he's scheming something...I can feel it..."

You quiet yourself to hear anything, anything at all. You didn't know why but you had a gut feeling that something was not up. You heart starts to pick up, making you feel on edge. Another minute of calm silence stresses you out as you shake your head.

"Okay that's it! I'm done waiting around, where the hell-AAH!!"

Before you could even get up and search for Rafayel, a strong hand starts to wrap around your legs, while the other hand made its way to your back. The mysterious person picked up from the water, holding you close. You're still screaming in horror at the sudden action, squirming in this person's arms, wondering how a stranger wandered into Rafayel's beach. But all those screams die down as you see your mischievous boyfriend with that annoying grin of his as he stared down at you. His whole-body drench with water, droplets from his hair landing onto your chest.

Rafayel then leans into your neck with rampant amounts of kisses. You sputter out nonsense as he continues to do this before leaning away to give you a sly wink.

"Hey princess, didn't miss me too much did ya~?"

"R-Rafayel! What! Why! You...jerk!"

Your terror went to confusion, which went to anger as you grabbed at his cheeks. Shaking his head with so much frustration causing the man to yelp himself getting away from your attack.

"Okay okay! I'm sorry, stop shaking me! You don't want me to drop you, do ya?"

You stop shaking him, but your pout still remains of your face as your arms were crossed against your chest.

"Where were you?"

"I wasn't that far away, just down below the reefs to find this."

Rafayel hand that was on your back reveals on your side a beautiful conch seashell. The outside a shiny iridescent silver refection, with the sun's rays, you could see the tiny rainbows reflected around the surface. On the inside material was a light violet color, its smooth base glittering, drops of water tracing the shell as if they were pearls. This was indeed beautiful shell, one that Rafayel motioned for you to take into your hands which you did. Your fingertips trace the patterns of the conch shell; it was the size of your palm.

"Isn't it beautiful, thought I find the most extravagant shell I can find, for the most extravagant woman here.

You didn't say anything, as you could feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a bit silly for worrying so much. Feeling embarrassed how the thought of him being underwater was a possibility. You look away from him, clutching the shell close to your chest.

"...it's pretty..."

Rafayel chuckles leaning in to give you a sweet kiss to your cheek. He starts to walk his way back to the shore.

"I'm sorry for scaring you princess, are you mad at me?"

You sigh, eyes returning to his as you smiled back at him.

"No, just next time bring me with you, I like it when we do things together."

Rafayel kisses your cheeks again, his nose brushing with yours.

"Fully noted. Though, I have to admit, hearing your screams was a lot funnier than I expected, cute even. I might want to hear it again~"

Rafayel stops, the ocean water only encompassing his whole waist. His arms start to get lose around your legs and back. He then teases by swaying you around in his arms, as if he has the nerve to throw you out of his embrace, and into the water harshly. You give him a glare, as you wrapped one arm around his neck securely.

"Don't even try fish boy."

Rafayel could only shiver at your threat, a playful yet nervous grin, as he continues to walk out of the ocean and onto the sandy shore.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

You got into a fight.

No, not a serious fight where tensions rise in one's relationship that causes problems, no. I mean a petty silly fight that started out as a small disagreement, only to result in the both of you - mostly you - giving each other the silent treatment. Honestly you forgotten what the argument as about. Maybe it was about work life, or maybe it was that you had a bad day, whatever it was it made you pretty stubborn to talk to him. Always avoiding him, giving him sarcastic huffs, turning your head upward like some snotty rich girl. Refusing to acknowledge his presence in a very playful yet still mad stubborn kind of way.

He knows this, and he finds it adorable.

How his kitten is refusing any sort of affection due to one silly argument. Playing hard to get as he tries lure you in with apologies and love, while all you do is turn your head the other way. Like a stranger pushing a bowl of milk to a stray cat as it hisses in retaliation. He found it absolutely cute, but the cuteness soon died down into a slight irritation.

"My you sure are a sight for the eyes girly~"

"Aw thank you."

Sylus scoffed watching the sleezy older man compliment you like some common whore for him to take. He could overhear the whole conversation between you and him through an earpiece the two of you shared. And the more that bastard talk to you, the more upset Sylus got.

You were undercover obviously, gathering personal intel from a powerful criminal the frequented this nightclub in the N109 zone. You told Sylus about it in a very brief manner, expecting to go alone on this but the Onychinus leader came along with you. Because he'll be damned if he didn't, and he was right. He knows that this little argument between you and him was just no more than playful banter between you both, there was no actual problem. He knows inside you had already forgiven him, even though you won't admit it. He liked that aspect of your stubbornness, but now he didn't, because now he has to watch another man talk to you while you laugh and smile at his words - not actually - and he can't even get two words in before you turn away.

It bothered him.

And it bothered him even more when he sees this old man start to get fresh. His dirty hands making their way to your exposed thigh. Making his way up your thigh, a goal to get underneath your short red dress. A dress he had bought for you one time, a dress that he can only undress and feel up underneath.

Yeah, he's had enough of this.

Time to put an end to your game.

You on the other hand were trying so hard not to punch the man in the face. Your face twitching in anger but still acting coy and sweet, swatting the old man 's hand playfully off, giggling, but deep down you were seething. You just wanted to go home with Sylus and end this night quickly. Just a little more info, then you can finally go.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when you can see your intimidating boyfriend waltz right up to the private corner where you and your suspect were sitting. He parted the crowd of dancers with ease, his face stone cold and serious, as his red eyes glowered at the scene in front of him. You cursed inside, as Sylus is now right in front of you. His big body looming over yours as you sat nervously.

"Time to go dove."

It was all he said, you were happy he's here. Happy that he came to get you. But at the same time the stubbornness from before rises, now upset at him for blowing your mission. You sat up hands pushing at his chest gently to make him go back, but the man does not bulge an inch.

"What are yo-"

"Hey, were busy here pal."

The elder man then suddenly gets up; he glares at Sylus while bringing you back close to him. His arm and hand wrapped around your waist, making you cringe not liking being this close to the guy. Before you could even say anything, or push this man away, you saw the familiar dark red and black mist of Sylus evol activating around the old man. He grunts in pain, his whole body capsulated by the powerful evol making his hand come off your waist. It crushed him a bit all before he was suddenly thrown back against the leather couch. He let's out a painful groan, as his body sags pathetically.

You watch this, only to gasp loudly yourself as you had found yourself being picked up by Sylus. Your whole body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ass sticking out and your dress ridding up your thighs making you blush heavily.

"Sylus!"

"We're going now."

He simply says before making his way out of the club, parting the shocked crowded of people that witness the embarrassing scene. As if that wasn't enough, Sylus gave your ass a sharp spank to your cheek making you cry out with shock. Your butt wiggling at the stinging - but very pleasurable - slap to your ass. You whine as you cover your face from the lingering eyes, you did this until Sylus makes his way outside the club. His feet stop as he made it to his motorcycle where he had parked it.

"Sylus put me down!"

"I don't think so kitten you're in time out."

"Time out!?"

"Well, until you apologize and say that you won't ignore me. Otherwise, you'll be staying up here for a while~"

Is your boyfriend seriously putting you in air jail until you apologize for ignoring him. You sigh, rubbing your hand on your forehead, cheeks puff out as you try to wiggle out of this. But it was no use, as he held a firm grip on you. His hand running up and down your smooth back thigh, teasing yet comforting. Honestly it felt so much better having his hand on your thigh than that old man's hand. So much better.

"Mmm...sorry..."

"What was that kitten I couldn't hear you."

You can just hear the smirk on his face stretching. It made grumble more, arms crossed as you looked at the ground in defeat.

"I sorry, I won't ignore you anymore...now can you put me down! I'm starting to get dizzy here."

"Seems you have forgotten the magic words that go to that sentence."

You let out a long groan, your body slumping his his hold. You can hear his signature laugh which made you want to just hide away and curl up into a little ball. With man was going to be the death of you with his endless teasing.

"Please put me down."

Sylus lets out a hum of approval before setting you back down on the cement ground. You stumble a bit on your heels before looking up at him flustered. He grins down at you, eyes racking every part of your body making you feel so small. He raises a hand to caress your cheek affectionately. Sylus then leans down to give your lips a brief but passionate kiss on your glossed lips. You close your eyes leaning in gor more. All those times ignoring his advances made you realize just how touched starved you are with this man.

He pulls away, which made you whine - he definitely heard - moving to near towards your ear. Making you shiver feeling his breath against your skin lightly.

"Good girl, now let's get back home so we can make up properly. You kept avoiding me for so long, it's about time I take my well-deserved fill~"

════════════════════════════

CALEB

"Hmm...where are you pipsqueak?!"

A goofy smile made it to your face as you hide behind a tree from Caleb. Your back against the wide tree, looking over to see Caleb walking along the glassy fields slowly with a grin stretching his lips. Heart pounding in your chest at the prospect of getting caught by him. You try as much to stifle your own laugher or breaths as he inches closer to where you were.

It was a very bright warm day today, Caleb suggested going out and taking a nice walk around the park meadows nearby. You agreed to this and spent your whole day with Caleb as you walked around the park. Passing by kids who run along the sidewalk or hanged around the jungle gym. Food venders who you defiantly stop by, grabbing something to eat with their delicious food. And couples ranging from your age to elderly ones that sat on benches complimenting you and Caleb and your youth.

It was a very peaceful day.

Once you guys made it to the widespread meadow, you couldn't help but feel a bit playful with him. Before he could even say anything, you start to run away from him, taunting about how he couldn't catch you. Making Caleb grin with amusement and run right after you. The both of you laughing and giggling like little kids. It felt so cliche yet wholesome at the same time running after each other in a field of flowers. It was moments like these that Caleb treasures the most, just having so much fun with you, seeing the look of happiness on your face.

"[Y/N]! You can't hide forever."

You hear Caleb call out, but you didn't respond, as you were still hiding behind the tree you picked out. You slid down the tree into a kneeling crouch, staying as quiet as you could so he couldn't hear. You can hear the faint steps of shoes crunching on the grassy ground come closer and closer. Your heart pounding heavily inside your chest, until suddenly you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

You wait a few moments and still you couldn't hear Caleb, nor did he call out again. It was silent, too silent.

You got up from crouching and turn yourself around to look around the tree, seeing no trace of where Caleb was. This caused your heart to skip in fear. You curse inside your head before backing away, knowing Caleb probably would jump out and likely find where you are. You had to get out of there quickly.

And so you do back away.

Right into Calebs chest.

His lips right next your ear, with and evil smirk stretching across his lips.

"Gotcha~"

"Aah!"

Before you know it, his hands grappled your waist, immediately going into a full-on tickle fight. His fingers digging into your sides, tickling you with no mercy whatsoever. You laugh, tears pricking your eyes as you try to move away from his assault. But no, this boy had an iron hold on you.

"Caleb! Haha...w-wait nooo~!"

"After running from me, this is your punishment pipsqueak~"

You whine and moan trying to find a way to get out of this situation. It wasn't until you both found yourself on the ground where you had found an opportunity. His body towered over yours as he stops tickling you for a moment, watching as you trying to catch your breath. The moment you do was the moment you striked, as your hands were placed upon his shoulders. Pushing him over onto the grass with you straddling his waist.

"Ha! Take that!"

Caleb laughs grinning with playful mischief.

"The games not over yet babe!"

His hands are on your waist again as he then tackles you back down, rolling you onto the grass while he was right above you again. Your shock face turns into determination, taking that as a challenge. You roll over him again to pin him down, and he does the same. The both of you laughing about as the two of your rolled along the meadow, trying to pin one another.

It wasn't until Calbe gets dizzy that he stops this. Forcefully manhandling you down with much ease. His hands now pinning your wrists above your head. He pants heavily, looking down at you with his own victorious smile; his looming presence shadows your own body. You try to wiggle away with no avail, Caleb having too much of a hold on you. No match for his ridiculous amount of strength.

"Give up?"

You grunt before letting out a long sigh, head dropping on ground hair messy as well as your clothes. It was a simple pair of jean shorts and [F/C] shirt. He was messy as well, you can see a few grass strands cling to his body, shirt, and pants. A few specks of dirt here and there. His hair was messy, his dog tag necklace dangling above you. You can feel your cheeks heat up, defeated and embarrassed.

You grumble to yourself, looking away from his lingering gaze which made him chuckle. Thinking just how cute you were pinned beneath him, it made his heart flutter.

"Fine, I give up.

Caleb hums, "Good."

He leans down to kiss your lips making your eyes widen but lean into the kiss anyway. He pulls away only to cover your entire face with kisses, causing you to giggle from his cute actions. He continues to do this, even going down to your neck which made you chuckle even more.

Caleb then sighs blissfully in between you neck and shoulder.

He stops and let's go of your wrists, only for him to put his full body weight on top of you. His head laying on your chest nuzzling you, his eyes closed as he basks in this moment the two of you shared.

"Agh, Caleb your heavy...get off~"

"Hmm...nah, let's stay like this for a little while more..."

He says this holding you close like you were so teddy bear. You sigh as you look up at the clear blue sky, feeling the cool wind on your face making you feel a bit drowsy yourself. Your hands wrapped around his head, hands threading through his dark brown locks. Nails scratching his scalp making him groan, burring his head more into your chest.

Everything felt so peaceful and calm in that very moment.

That is until something shifts and prods against your mid-thigh.

"Uh...Caleb?"

"Sorry squeaks, you can't really blame me here."

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

He got a call from Tara.

Saying something about helping her with you in the mix of things, it sounded urgent. So of course, Xavier immediately got up to go over to where you were. You told Xavier that you were going out with Tara and Simone for a girl's night out. Just a simple date with the crew, drinking and some karaoke. He smiles to this, saying to be careful and have fun, giving you a kiss as he watched you head out.

And now he watches as you were singing your heart out to some random song, standing on top of a table, microphone in hand, as you slur the lyrics to the song badly. He watched this drunk you in action with amusement but worry. Tara was also there watching the hilarious scene, but she was sat next to Simone who was also heavily drunk, cheering you on with slurred "Whoos", her eyes barely open. Tara was holding her up as she was slumped against the couch, trying to get her to drink water.

"It's been like this for an hour; can you take care of [Y/N]. I have to get Simone back to her place; it's a bit far."

Xavier nods his head, "Yeah, I'll take care of her. You go on ahead."

Tara nods and she gets up bring Simone on her feet. She wobbles and whines about how she wants to stay more, but Tara declines that. She had already called a taxi to come pick them up. Both exit the room, leaving just you and Xavier. You didn't even know Xavier was in the room, to focused on the song at hand.

That was until Xavier grabbed the remote and paused the karaoke game on the tv, the room now silent, making you groan and turn to him. There was a pout on your face, but it soon turned to a goofy smile as you saw your boyfriend was here.

"Xaaavier, your here!"

You lifted up your arms joyfully making Xavier chuckle.

"[Y/N] what are you doing?"

You laugh.

"I'm singing obviously, duuh, c-come on up...and sing with meee~"

You start to dance on top of the table, making it wobble. And Xavier catches this, worried about your well-being.

"I think you done enough singing for today angel, how about we go home."

You turn to him with a sad pout.

"What? Nooo...the night is young just one more song pleeeease~"

"You're drunk [Y/N], you have to come home."

Your head shakes, as you crossed your arms like a child.

"How dare you good sir, I'm not drunk...can a drunk person dance like this!"

You then dance terribly on top of the table, limbs moving carelessly in the air, your skirt flowing with every movement of your hips. Xavier sees this and shakes his head with a laugh exiting his lips. He found this adorable; you completely wasted dancing like nobody watching. It almost made him wish he had his phone to record this silly moment of you.

But his amusement turned into worry as he saw the table wobbling again, this time more frequently.

"[Y/N], how about we get down-"

"No way party pooper, I'm not fini-"

The table buckled violently underneath you, causing you to stumble and fall. The microphone in your hand falling out and onto the floor with a loud thud. You gasp, heart pounding in your chest as you felt the scary sensation of falling. But Xavier being the quick person he is caught you just in time. His arms wrapped around your waist securely, as you had wrapped your arms around his neck. Xavier made your legs wrap around his waist, his hands holding your thighs so you wouldn't go anywhere. Your body was shaking from the frightening fall, sobering you up just a bit.

"Uhm...you know what...your right...I should probably get home...yeah."

You said as you try to calm your frantic heart, clinging onto Xavier like a life preserver. You can hear him chuckle at your words in your ear, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn't say anything but walk over to grab an un-open bottled water for you and your purse. His one hand still carrying you with no struggle. You can feel your heats heat up in embarrassment, as you and Xavier walked out of the karaoke room. A few passersby's watching confused at the situation.

You moan, hiding your face in his neck, you can feel the chill air of the night as Xavier walks out the building.

"Here, drink."

Xavier orders you to drink the water, presenting it to you. You grab the bottle, unscrewing the cap before taking a nice swig of water down your throat. One hand was wrapped around his neck while the other clutched the bottle, groaning at the cool refreshing water. Xavier continued to walk down the sidewalk, his hands clutching underneath your thighs that still was wrapped around his waist. You stop drinking the water when done, the liquid reaching the bottom of the bottle, as it was almost finished. You let out a long sigh, resting your head on Xavier's shoulder.

"Feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm..."

You mumbled with a yawn. There was silence between you two as Xavier continued to walk with you still in his arms. You can still feel the embarrassment still lingering in your cheeks. Your boyfriend seeing your dance ridiculously while also carrying you like a child. You can see a few more people walk along the sidewalk seeing this embarrassing situation you've gotten yourself in. You wiggle in Xavier's tight grasp he has on you. His manhandling on you getting to your head, but he doesn't care as he holds on to you tightly not wanting to let you go.

"Y-You know you can set me down now, I can walk."

Xavier smiles shaking his head. He leans into your neck giving you sweet butterfly kisses all before he nips at your neck with his teeth. Causing you to gasp and whine more, face hotter than before.

"No, I think I'll hold you till we get back. Who knows what will happen if I let you go. You might just climb up one of these lamp posts and start dancing~"

"Xaaavier.."

Yeah, you had a feeling he'd hold this over you for a while.

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

"Are you going to wear those?"

That's the question Zayne asked you firsthand. Seeing you place on a pair of nice heels on. Heels that were a little higher than the normal pair of heels you would usually wear to a formal event. The two of you were going out to a fancy gathering with some of Zayne's collogues. There was a plus one, and Zayne asked if you had wanted to accompany him to which you had said yes. Knowing that he finds you company to these certain event barrable then if he had gone alone.

You looked up at him with a coy smile stretched across your lips. You hand leaving your feet as you just finished placing the second heel on your right foot. You stand up giving him a good spin around, showcasing your beautiful outfit to him. A long silver dress, your hair up in a tight bun, earrings, a necklace, and those high heels.

"What? The heels? You don't like them?"

Zayne doesn't say anything, only starting down at the shiny silver heels you wore. He adjusts his tie on his tux, as his body was facing a bedroom mirror.

"They're a bit higher than what you normally wear my love."

You get what he was saying to you, that these heels were too much. How he was worried you'd be too uncomfortable all throughout the evening wearing them. Getting yourself hurt making it unbearable to walk. But you were too confident and stubborn, thinking nothing of it when putting on these heels. You looked too good in your outfit, and these heels topped it off, you figured you could handle them.

"Yeah, but I can handle them perfectly see."

You walked like a model on a runway, showing him how you were comfortable with these heels on your feet. You then turn to him with a playful smirk, a hand on your hips.

"See, easy no need to worry I'm fine."

Zayne cocks a brow up as he looks at you for a moment, as if scanning your expressions. He then sighs rolling his eyes back over to the mirror he was facing, checking out his appearance for the final time.

"Alright then, don't come complaining to me when your feet are in agony."

You puff your cheeks at him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

"Oh please! I'm stronger than I look, I bet I can even last the whole night!"

Zayne lets out a small huff of a laugh, while shaking his head, a small but all-knowing grin curling the corner of his lips.

"I know you're strong honey, c'mon it's about time we head out."

And that's where are story leads us, to you sitting on an expensive couch in a private room with Zayne. Your legs and feet propped up on Zayne's lap as his rough hands massaged the soles of your feet. His suit jacket was off, as the sleeves of his black dress blazer was rolled up to his elbows showing his scars. You were dramatically laying back against the couch's armrest, letting out pitiful groans and whines. Your head was tilt back to the decorative ceiling; the feeling of Zayne's hands massage you making you sigh with relief.

Thirty minutes.

Once you reached the thirty-minute mark of wearing those heels, began the intense pain that came after it. You tried your best to stifle the pain away, tried to grin your best smile while taking to many of Zanye's collogues. But the searing pain of those damn heels digging into your skin, making your feet sore with every second. The constant ache with every step you took. Hell, you even stumbled a bit which made people question if you're okay which was embarrassing. It wasn't until you actually stumble and fall into you boyfriend's arms that you knew you were done.

Here was your boyfriend, guiding you to a private room away from the massive party of onlookers. Guiding you gently to the couch so you can sit. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to say anything because you already know what's going through his mind.

"I guessing this is the part where you say I told you so."

Zayne chuckles at your pouty tone. Even with your disgruntled appearance he still finds you absolutely gorgeous. One of his hands ran up and down your legs, your dress ridding up a bit, as his hands made contact with your thigh causing you to shiver. He gives you thigh a good squeeze before lifting your right foot up, making you quirk an eyebrow at him. But it soon went away when his lips pressed a chaste kiss against your ankle. Giving you a good number of kisses till he reached about twelve.

"I wouldn't stoop to such lows my beloved."

He speaks sending a painfully blissful pressure point to your bottom foot causing you to whimper. God, when it came to massages, he was so great at them, always manhandling your body, subduing you into a messy puddle.

"But I will say next time please don't compromise your own health just because of some fashionable clothes, okay?"

You look up at him, seeing his gentle expression towards you. Your heart flickers, giving him small smile back.

"Okay...sorry for cutting the party short."

"No apologies needed, I wasn't really focused on it anyway...now-"

Zayne had placed your legs and feet aside before standing up from the couch. He then gets his suit jacket and places it along your shoulders. He gets your heels in one hand, before wrapping his left arm around you to pick you up. You gasp in shock, wrapping your arms around your neck as he picks you up, one hand with ease. He gives you a smirk, making your cheeks flush and stomach twist.

"-Let's get you back home so I can take care of you."

"B-But wait! What about the others? Seeing me like this in your arms?"

Zayne only walks back to the door that led you to the private room, his right hand the held your heels operating to twist the door handle.

"I'll just say I'm tending to my dear patient who's in need of my assistance~"

And that's exactly what he said, though a big portion of embarrassment still resided inside you as you were carried away. All because a pair of some stupid heels.

════════════════════════════

[corkinavoid]

For @astermagnolia, to 'Navigating' by Twenty One Pilots,

DPxDC Everybody Leaves

Damian always knew he was there.

From the very moment his eyes dimmed and his body went limp under Damian's hands, he knew that, in reality, he never went anywhere. He stayed, always in the corner of his eye, on the tip of his fingertips, on the brink of his dreams, looking back at him through the reflection in the mirror.

Always just out of reach.

And yet, when Damian missteps, when a bright blast of a laser is only inches away from his chest, when his eyes widen and he knows he won't make it out this time, he is still genuinely surprised to suddenly find another person in between him and his death.

The blast hits Danyal square in the chest, but the boy doesn't sway in the slightest. Damian would have been impressed; he would, really, if he didn't know his brother was dead. If the sight of him, standing in front of Damian, didn't cause his mind to come to a whirring stop.

"You can't take him," Danyal speaks, or maybe growls, the words coming from somewhere deep in his chest, "He can't leave."

And there's something off in his voice - not in the low, menacing way he speaks but in the frenzied panic that's seeping through every word. Damian, against his better judgment, reaches forward, trying to touch his brother's shoulder, but even before he does, the boy snaps his head to him.

And, oh, Damian sees what's wrong.

His brother's eyes are wide, toxic green and glowing, and full of fear, the one you see in a cornered animal. When one wrong move can turn all that scared, anxious tension into a sharp, angry lunge full of fury.

"You can't leave," Danyal repeats quieter this time, but his whisper is almost pleading, "Everyone leaves, I know they do, but not you, you can't-" and then, the frantic mess of words is cut off like someone flipped a switch, and Danyal's face smoothes out in less than a moment.

The cold, calculated ice fills his eyes, and the boy straightens up. His hair, dark like Damian's own, somehow glitches like a bad video recording, going between black and white but settling on white after a moment.

"I won't let you," he says, and there's no more fear or pleading in his voice. Instead, it's calm and eerie, offhanded even, like the boy is merely stating a fact.

Damian blinks, the words stuck in his throat.

He has a whole family of vigilantes around him, he grew up in the League, he is a part of a superhero team. He knows there are people who would throw themselves in danger for the sake of his life without a second thought, and he knows he would do the same, even if he is never going to admit to it out loud.

But not a single one of them ever made it feel like a promise, an unbreakable vow.

Danyal turns away from him, facing the battlefield.

He takes a deep breath.

And screams.

~•~•~•~

Okay, so the idea was that Danny (reincarnated or just dropped off in the DC universe somehow to become Damian's twin) had died at the hands of Damian long ago, but never left his side even in death. I was coming from the Ultimate Enemy bad ending, which means Danny is literally slipping into insanity over losing his loved ones.

Hence, Danny going into a feral protective rage over Damian because he is a traumatized, two times dead boy who just wants his family to stay with him.

And now I'm tryin' to hold onto you 'cause everybody leaves — ['Navigating' lyrics]

P.S. I really wanted to include the line 'pardon my delay' into this, but it didn't quite work with the way I was heading

[harrysfolklore]

driving lessons - op81

summary: oscar piastri teaches his girlfriend how to drive for the first time

MASTERLIST | JOIN MY PATREON

Life is full or ironies, and the fact that your boyfriend is an F1 driver and you don't even know how to drive is definitely one of them.

You always found it funny how someone who could navigate the most challenging race circuits with ease was dating someone who couldn't even navigate a parking lot, and was utterly terrified of being behind the wheel.

"I just can't believe you don't know how to drive," Oscar said while you were having dinner at his place one night.

"Excuse me, mister. Not all of us dreamed of driving cars for a living since we were kids," you teased, making him chuckle.

"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you how to drive, since that's what I do for a living."

You laughed at his enthusiasm, shaking your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a lost cause when it comes to driving. I get anxious just thinking about it."

"Oh come on," he threw his head back, "I'll be a great teacher. We'll start slow, maybe in an empty parking lot. If it doesn't work out, we can stop anytime."

You thought about it for a second, you were at an age that it was downright embarrassing to not know how to drive, and maybe Oscar could actually help you face your fear of being behind the wheel.

"Okay," you agreed, "But you have to promise not to laugh at me, and we're not using a one of your McLaren luxury cars."

Oscar's eyes lit up with excitement. "Deal! We'll use something more… beginner-friendly."

"Beginner-friendly?" you raised an eyebrow, "Like what? A go-kart?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," he laughed, "But no, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice, safe, regular car."

"Fine, but you have to be patient with me," you warned, pointing a finger at him, "I mean it, Oscar. One hint of frustration and I’m out."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Minor detail," he waved off your accusation, making you laugh, "Seriously though, I think you'll surprise yourself. You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you retorted, but you couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe not, but it might get me dessert," he shrugged, leaning closer, "And maybe a makeout session before we head to bed."

You threw your head back in laughter, grabbing his cheeks playfully and pecking his lips a couple of times.

"You're a teenager," you said, shaking your head. "But fine, you get dessert, and you snogging session. Just remember, no racing techniques, I don't need to learn how to drift around corners."

"Drifting? In your first lesson?" he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense, "I'm hurt you think so little of me."

"When are we doing this again?" you said, moving to place your empty plates in the dishwasher.

"How about this weekend?" Oscar hoped off his stool, helping you clean around the kitchen, "I'll find us a nice, empty parking lot, and we can take it from there."

"Oscar Piastri, F1 driver with podiums to his name will teach his girlfriend how to drive in a parking lot," you said as you shook your head, "How ironic."

Saturday morning arrived and it was time for your first driving lesson. After breakfast, you and Oscar headed to the empty parking lot in a small, compact car for the lesson. It was far less intimidating than one of his sleek, luxurious cars.

"Alright, let's get started," he said, opening the driver's side door for you. You took a deep breath and slid into the seat, adjusting it to fit your height, Oscar got in the passenger seat and handed you the keys.

"First things first," he began, his voice calm and steady, "Let's go over the basics. Adjust your mirrors so you can see clearly, and get comfortable with the controls."

You nodded, following his instructions. Once you were settled, he guided you through starting the car and putting it into gear.

"Wait," you said before starting the car, "You're teaching your dummy of a girlfriend how to drive a regular car, okay? Don't expect some professional Formula 1 driver stuff from me."

"I promise, just the basics," Oscar chuckled, shaking his head, "We won't be racing anyone today."

"Okay, here goes nothing," you took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition, the engine coming to life with a low hum.

"Great job," Oscar said with a small smile, "Now, put the car in drive and slowly take your foot off the brake."

You hesitated, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. "What if I mess up?"

"You won't," he said confidently, "And even if you do, it's all part of the learning process. Just take it slow."

You took a deep breath and lifted your foot off the brake. The car began to roll forward and for a moment, everything seemed fine until you pressed the gas pedal a bit too hard. The car jerked forward, causing you to panic and slam on the brakes.

"Whoa, easy there," Oscar said, "You're not at Silverstone, remember?"

"This is so much harder than it looks," you huffed, feeling your frustration bubble up, "How do you make it seem so effortless?"

"Years of practice and maybe a little natural talent," he winked, "But seriously, you're doing fine. It's all about getting a feel for the car, let's try it again."

Taking a deep breath, you eased off the brake and gently pressed the gas pedal. This time, the car moved forward smoothly, and you couldn't help but smile at the small victory.

"See? You're getting it!" Oscar encouraged. "Now, let's try a gentle turn. Just steer to the right."

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning it slowly to the right. The car responded, and you managed to navigate the turn without any major issues. But as you straightened out, you accidentally hit the windshield wiper lever, causing them to whip back and forth at full speed.

Oscar burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in, despite your embarrassment.

"Well, at least we know the wipers work!" he joked.

"Ugh, I feel stupid," you groaned, fumbling to turn off the wipers.

"It's okay, baby," he leaned in to peck your cheek quickly.

"Stop kissing me, I'll get distracted," you teased.

"Okay, okay," he said, composing himself, "Let's try another lap around the parking lot. This time, no wiper incidents."

You nodded, determined to get the hang of it. You practiced driving around the empty lot, getting more comfortable with each turn and stop.

As the lesson continued, you found yourself improving bit by bit, though there were still moments of frustration.

"Ugh, why won't this stupid thing go where I want it to?" you groaned, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Hey, it's okay," Oscar said soothingly. "You're doing great. Just remember to relax your grip a bit. The car will respond better if you're not strangling the wheel."

You did as he said, and you found yourself driving more comfortably around the parking lot, improving with your turns and stops.

"You know," he said at one point, "If you keep this up, you'll be ready to join the grid next season."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. I'll leave the racing to you, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning, "It would be really hard to fight with my girlfriend for the championship."

"Is your girlfriend Max Verstappen and I'm just finding out?" you teased, making him laugh.

"That's a secret I'll never tell," he joked, causing you both to burst into laughter.

After a few more laps around the parking lot, you were feeling more confident behind the wheel. Until the final challenge of the day approached: parking the car.

"Let’s try parking," he suggested after a while, "Find a spot and take it slow."

You spotted an empty space and carefully guided the car into it, but misjudged the angle and ended up crooked. You groaned in frustration. "Why is parking so hard?"

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. "Well, parking an F1 car in the garage is definitely easier, no tight spaces to worry about."

"Ha-ha, very funny," you retorted, but couldn't help but laugh along with him, "Alright, let me try again."

You pulled out and tried parking again, failing to get the car neatly within the lines. "How was that?"

"Okay, so maybe parking isn't your strong suit yet," he teases, "Good thing you're not in a pit stop competition."

"Fine, I had enough for today," you said, unbuckling your seat belt, "I'm ready to go back to being your passenger princess."

Oscar laughed, getting out of the passenger seat and switching positions with you.

"You did great, really," Oscar said once he settled in the drivers seat, leaning over to kiss you, "I'm proud of you, you know. You really pushed through your fear today."

"And we're both still alive so that's a good thing," you joked, making him laugh, "Thank you for being a great teacher, baby."

"All I did was sit here and provide moral support, it's not like I know anything about driving or cars," he teased, "You did all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes with affection, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Maybe next time we'll try an actual road," he suggested.

"Or maybe you can teach me how to do a proper donut," you said, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team."

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale, misogyny and the female character treatment

I don't know if anyone wrote a post about this but I see from time to time comments to this end - that Aziraphale is treated like the female leads in films often are, obviously especially romantic films. So I'm gonna try to point how I see this. I welcome further insights of course.

Say we take a basic premise of a romantic film: A girl is wooed by a bad boy for example. And she is a good girl, from a good, proper family and everything so she refuses his advances. This goes on through his various ploys to entertain and romance her, do things for her etc etc and frustrates us as the audience because we can see the bad boy is actually good, her family is oppressive and holding her back and that she (deep down) cares for him (if only she was brave enough to admit it to herself) and so we want her to open her eyes and say she is actually in love with him cos her life will be so much better should she (finally) give in and run away with him.

Familiar? Reasons Aziraphale is not her and the analogy does not fit (but that I so often see in metas and takes about her):

Aziraphale always knew her family is shit. Or at least longer than Crowley did. She was already anxious in Before the Beginning about what she thought Angel!Crowley could and could not say or do without getting into trouble.

She knows Crowley is good. She never doubted him. Whatever he says or does or pretends to do or must do for his job. Aziraphale knows he's inherently good and would always do good if he can.

She knows she's in love - I mean we can argue about when each realised this and also when each realised the other loves them back just as fiercely, but they both know. And they both love. And they both long to be together. Aziraphale is not ashamed of her feelings nor hiding or suppressing them for fear they are wrong or immoral or other BS like that.

Aziraphale doesn't need to overcome her love for her family/employer and finally make the leap to be with Crowley. They simply can't leave their bosses without punishment. Neither of them. They live in a dictatorship with nowhere to go. And just because Crowley experienced both sides, doesn't give him some huge insight that Aziraphale completely lacks. Both places are awful. Their separation isn’t about fear of societal judgment (or Aziraphale's unwillingness to give up Heaven, being seen as good, being an angel - and to what end, to Fall? I really don't know what takes like this want from her, it would not work anyway), it’s about survival in a system that won’t let them be together.

Aziraphale doesn't want to change Crowley. She never did. She asked for Crowley to come to Heaven as an angel because that was THE ONLY option she had for them to be together in any capacity at that point. It was NOT an attempt to “fix” him—it was a desperate bid for a way they could be together at all.

One thing I don't see as much anymore is the call for Aziraphale to change. Obviously she's pretty but she would be prettier if she lost those century old clothes maybe and started listening to something made after 1950? Be more cool to match Crowley? Less stuffy?

These kind of film premises are already pointless, offensive and make me roll my eyes, but to stick them all over Aziraphale and huff cos she doesn't do what the clever sexy man in dark clothes and sunglasses says she should - well that makes me angry.

And so do takes and mischaracterisations that ignore Aziraphale as silly, her worries as pointless, sometimes excessive - maybe she's just hysterical, you know? The one time she shows more emotion, in F15, she is so often completely ignored in her obvious distress just because Crowley is trying to confess his love at the same time and seemingly 'not getting through,' because Aziraphale is not reacting the way everyone expects. So many takes that always assume Crowley is right, no matter what. Even when he calls Aziraphale an idiot. If Crowley says that, it must be true. No matter that the book spells out in Terry's voice that the angel is extremely clever.

Aziraphale’s charm lies in her kindness, her love for books and knowledge, her whimsy, and her quiet courage. These qualities don’t make her naive—they make her resilient. She often hides how she truly feels, hides her grief, her pain, her true desires, hides what she really thinks; always always to protect herself and her beloved. She is often forced to say stuff she doesn't mean. Again. To keep the one she loves and their fragile relationship safe. But where people seem to catch on with that on Crowley's side, they don't with Aziraphale. She is fierce when pushed and will defend the defenceless (humans) and the ones she loves (Crowley) to her last breath (whether she needs to breathe is irrelevant right now okay).

She loves her bookshop. She built this home, full of knowledge for herself and her demon and you can take this HC from my cold hands. That she was forced to leave it, only emphasises how little choice she had in Final 15. Good Omens has two main, equal characters; who are both gorgeous and complex and deep and neither is right or wrong or in need of saving or learning some huge lesson to get to their goal and be together. What needs to change is the world, the system they live in. And they will change it. P.S. Just to add, many, many (if not all) bad takes on Aziraphale are also bad takes on Crowley. They mischaracterise and misunderstand just how deeply and unconditionally he loves Aziraphale. How he adores her and understands and accepts her just as she is. He does not expect or want Aziraphale to change in any way. He knows why they are not together. And it's not Aziraphale's fault, it's because of circumstances, not because of her choices. Crowley would never ever want Aziraphale to suffer, he wouldn't expect her to come back from Heaven saying how sorry she is for what happened, how stupid and blind she was and how he was always right. That's just not going to happen. ------------------------------------------ @tenok I simply must highlight the awesomeness you put in hashtags!! EVERYBODY please read:

Thank you sm for this!!

[nottsbabe]

Tired Eyes

Theodore Nott x Fem reader

Summary; Theodore comes back to his dorm to find you asleep in his bed after a quidditch practice runs late.

Warnings; none just fluff

Theo's head was pounding, All he could think about was sleep. After most of the quidditch team went their separate Draco had insisted Theo, Blaise, Mattheo and a few others stay behind to go through some of the plays they had been working on. After what felt like hours of doing the same drill over and over, Draco Finally let them go.

Theodore lazily grabbed his key out of his pocket and unlocked his door with ease. He was no stranger to coming home past midnight on nights like these with barely any sleep in his body to begin with. He tossed his key on the side table near the door before sliding off his shoes and heading to the bathroom to shower. He returned a few minutes later with sweatpants and a shirt you had gifted him for his birthday on. He was so tired from quidditch and classes he barely looked down before collapsing on the bed. As he did so he felt something start to nervously claw around under the duvet.

You immediately shot up with a squeal, your brows close together and furrowed. Your sour expressions softened after you see Theo's tired eyes peering at yours with a concerned look resting on his features. All the fear in your body was replaced with worry after seeing how tired your boyfriend was. "Theo? Where were you?" you asked your lip trembling a bit. You had always been anxious about Theo's sleep schedule, always begging him to go to bed earlier, and party less.

He just shrugged his shoulders and shifted his gaze to one of the pictures on his wall, blinking slowly at it. You grab his face turning him so his gaze was on you once again. "Theodore." you said sternly. You were worried sick about him and tired of the excuses he would lamely give out. "Practice ran late." is all he said before grabbing your (his) hoodie strings and playfully hitting you lightly with them, as if he was trying to distract you from getting onto him.

With a sigh you laid back down staring at the ceiling. Theodore crawled under the covers next to you, pulling your whole body on his. His hands find themselves under your hoodie drawing stars and hearts on your back. "I'm sorry principessa, I'll do better." "I know it makes you anxious when i stay out late. I'll try my best not to." He says with a kiss to your forehead. "I love you Theo." You say contently, interlacing your fingers with his. After a few moments light snores escape your slightly parted lips as you slowly drift off in the comfort of Theo's arms. "I love you more, cara mia." Theo says hugging you tighter before quickly falling asleep as well.

Not proofread<3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Shea and Donna are loud. All night long, as if to spite you. Maybe Steve is just as much a hero as they say. He's saving you from them.

You don't sleep much, not that you expected to. You're as anxious as you used to get before your math final. It's like your insides are rotting away.

You have your bag packed. Just the one rolling suitcase and your purse. You dragged everything you deemed trash down to the dumpster. It will be easier for Shea to find a roommate with your furniture already there for them.

You put your bag by the front door and look around the apartment. It's not a bittersweet goodbye. You always dreamed of getting out of here; you just always thought it would be under a much different circumstances. Well, you need to stop expecting the world to work for you and do it yourself. Right?

You go to Shea's room and tap with your knuckles, "hey, I'm headed out now."

She doesn't answer.

"Thought you'd want to say goodbye to your sister."

"Fuck off," she barks back. "God, my head is pounding."

"Yeah, shut the fuck up," down hollers from her room.

You sigh and turn away. Your family isn't known for their sentiment. You barely feel sad about leaving Shea. She's always been a bitch.

You shut the door behind you as you go into the hallway. You lock it and slip the keys through the mail slot. No going back now.

You roll your bag down to the elevator. Still out of order. You let it bounce down the steps as you make a slow descent. It's quarter to; you're plenty early. Not earlier than him.

Steve leans on the front of a silver car, his head tilted up as he squints. Sparrows chitter in the bushes as robins pick the earth for their breakfast. You shuffle down the cracked walkway as he slowly lowers his sights to you.

"You said ten," you say.

"Good morning to you too," he sniffs. "Posture."

He points and you fix your shoulders. You're tired. You don't really care if you're hunching. This isn't going to be easy.

"Good morning," you say.

"You're early. Good job," he stands and nears you. You almost stagger back as you take in his size. He puts his hand next to yours on the suitcase handle. "May I?"

"Um, thanks, but you sure I shouldn't do that myself."

"No, that's not your job," he assures and wiggles the handle away from your grasp. "Get in the car."

You sidle away and nod, "yes... Captain."

He gives a snort of approval and collapses the handle of the bag. He lifts it by the shorter one as if it's nothing more than air. Your mouth falls open for just a moment. You're reminded of the museum write-up. Super soldier. Super hard ass.

You follow his orders and get in the car. He closes the trunk and lets himself into the driver's side. You fidget, fingers twiddling on your legs, feet bouncing, bottom squirming in the seat.

"Belt," he commands.

"Yes, Captain," you quickly buckle up and he does the same in a much less addled manner.

He starts the car and you flinch. You look out the window at your building then through the windshield ahead of you. You gulp. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"You're scared of me," he says.

"What? No," your squeak gives away the truth. You only realise then he's right.

"Your heart is racing. You're nervous about this." He says.

You put your hands over your heart, "don't listen to it. That's... that's nosy."

"I'm not trying," he scoffs as he shifts into gear.

"Right, well..." you reach for the dashboard and he tuts.

"Ask."

You rescind your hand and sit back. You blink at him and take a breath. "Captain, may I turn on some music?"

"You may. Don't change the station though."

You frown. You tap the screen and the satellite radio starts. Ah, 1960s best of the basics. Boring. You're surprised he's into Helter Skelter.

You hide a yawn behind your chair and sink back into the seat. You peek at him quickly. It's Captain America. Right beside you. It's just not making sense. Still.

He inhales, "is that coconut?"

"What?" You hesitate then look down. You raise your wrist and sniff where you spritzed the body spray. "Oh, yeah. Is it...too much?" You can barely smell it yourself.

"I don't mind it," he shrugs.

"Next you're going to say you know what kind of shampoo I used," you scoff.

"Something with apple," he says. "But you use Pears soap. I know that for sure. My ma used to, as well."

You twitch, "oh, wow, it's like a magic trick."

He laughs, "I guess."

You cross your arms and slump further down. He can smell all that, but what else can he smell?

"You don't smell bad, if that's what's worrying you," he says. "Really. Your sweat smells like..." he stops himself and shakes his head. "Yeah, it's nothing. Really."

That's a bit weird but you're glad you don't have that curse. A lot of scents give you migraines. You can't imagine having a dog's nose.

"Right, uh, well, you smell fine too," you say awkwardly.

⭐

The airport is hell. You've never been to one so the experience is one you hope to never have again. Why did you ever dream of vacation? Well, this isn't one of those, is it?

The waiting, the noise, the tension, it bubbles up and reminds you that you forgot a coffee. You were so knotted up over travelling, it just slipped your mind. Your stomach keeps mulching too. You need to eat.

Boarding is another slog. You find your seats. Steve offers up the window. That's nice of him. Considering he usually flies in the Avengers jet. it's probably not very exciting for him. That makes you feel even more like a child.

Seatbelts and take off aren't as bad as you expect. There's a few people with panic in their eyes but you're oddly calm. When the seat belt light goes off, you try to ease yourself for the duration of the flight. You take your phone out of your bag. It's quickly covered by Steve's hand before you can turn it on.

"Rule number one. Get rid of this thing," he takes the phone from you and you stutter.

"Huh? But I was just going to read an ebook."

"Wanna read?" He reaches under the seat and lifts his carryon. He drops your cell inside and takes out a book. A classic; Dickens. Ugh. "There ya go."

"Right, thanks, but--"

"You agreed. My rules."

"I did, but..." you look down at the book and take it. "Okay, sure. Never read anything but Twist. Maybe it's good."

He shifts in his seat. You do too as he taps your knee. "Posture."

You sigh but push your shoulders up. He tuts. This is going to suck. You never had a dad growing up but you imagine you didn't miss out on much.

There's a rattling in the aisle. You glance over as an attendant pushes a cart. You smell coffee. She stops at the end of the row, "anything for you?"

"Um, oh, can I have a coffee?" You reach for your purse and once more, Steve stops you.

"Decaf," he leans forward to wiggle free his wallet. "And she'll have the fruit plate, as well as a cup of cottage cheese."

"Yes, sir," she answers with a sunny smile. You frown but don't argue. Decaf is going to do shit all for you.

"Caffeine is bad for you. You need to get your body in tune," he takes the coffee and hands it to you as he lectures.

"Excuse me," the attendant says as she opens the little door an takes out a container. "Are you Steve Rogers?"

He takes a breath, "I am. Please try not to let on."

"Of course, Captain, sorry," she preens and hands over the fruit and cup of disgusting cheese.

"Thanks," he says. He sits back, "put the table down." You pull down the table as you let the book slip down beside your thigh. He sets the food down and hands you the spork. "You didn't eat. You should try to do so earlier."

"How..." you begin.

"I can hear your stomach. Now eat."

"Could I not have yogurt?" You ask.

"They only have the sugar stuff so no," he crosses his arms.

You nod and contemplate how to force down the lumpy cheese, "thanks, Steve." He grunts. "Captain," you correct yourself.

You put a few of the grapes into the cup. That should help. Maybe.

You focus on eating. It's a struggle. Maybe he can tell but you try not to let on. It's disgusting. Does he eat like this every day? You bet he can eat like trash and still look like he does.

You finish, saving the pineapple for last. You wash it down with the toothless coffee and sit back. You hold back a grumble.

"Lots of protein in cottage cheese. Fruit has natural sugars, not like those cupcakes you posted."

"Cupcakes?" You mutter, "wait--"

"I saw your post history. Remember?"

"Didn't think you went that far back," you reply.

"You looked at mine too."

"Well, yeah..."

"Pretty standard."

"Yeah, but--" you cringe before you can continue.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, continue. Rule number two. Honesty. Always tell the truth."

You pout and stare at the back of the seat, "I didn't track you down."

He chuckles, "that would require effort."

You shrink down again. He's right.

"Posture," he warns again.

"I know, I know," you writhe in the seat and force your back straight. You put the coffee down and grab the book. "Thanks, Captain."

"You're welcome. You'll see. Captain knows best."

⭐

New York is busy. The sort of chaos that makes you dizzy.

You sit in the back of the cab and watch the streets pass by. It's like in the movies but less bright and happy. More furious and smoky. And there's so many ads.

Finally, the taxi stops. Steve gets out first and beckons you after him. You follow and he shuts the door. You stand on the curb as he grabs the bags. At least he's willing to lug all that around.

He points you toward the townhouse. You go ahead of him as he directs you from behind. He puts his bag on yours and slips by you. He punches in the front door code and the buttons flash green.

You turn the handle and enter. He brings the bags in with him. You go to move out of his way and he clucks.

"Shoes. On the rack."

You flinch but obey. You take off your shoes and put them on the dark wooden rack. Everything is neat and precise. He unties his shoes and shoves them next to yours. He stands straight and you turn to take in the entryway. The ceiling is high, a staircase before you in rich teak, and the floors are shining.

"Nice place," you say.

"Sure is. Takes a lot of upkeep."

"It would."

"You'll see," he once more lifts the bags.

"I'll... what does that..." he heads up the stairs as you trail him, "Steve--Captain," you climb behind him, "wait, really? I gotta be your maid?"

He stays quiet as he leads you to the second floor. He turns as you watch his broad back. He's great at giving orders, just not details.

"Not a maid," he says as he stops at the end of the hall, "get the door, sweetheart."

You wince at that word. Sweetheart. You turn the handle and push inward. He carries the bags inside and approaches the bed. He puts both on the bench at the end.

You glance around, taking it all in. It's lived in but tidy. A desk with a tablet and some books, the chair half pulled out, jackets hung from mounted hooks, a closet door, a velvet cushioned chair in the corner. It's his room. It has to be, so why...

"So, where am I staying?" You ask.

He looks over his shoulder and raises a brow. He turns back and puts your bag on its side. He unzips your bag and flips the lid. He takes your laptop out first.

"No screens," he says as he brings it to the desk. He returns to your bag as your chest squeezes.

"Captain, hey, that's-- mine," you scurry across the room, "wow!" You try to snatch a pair of panties from him as he lifts them out. "Yo, those are... private."

He lowers them but doesn't let go. He looks you in the eye. He angles his head smugly, "you don't understand. Nothing's private for you, sweetheart." He pulls the panties beyond your grasp, "and these..." he flutters the cotton panties. "Not good enough. We'll get better."

"Woah, woah, woah," you sputter. "This-- that--" you look around and your blood turns cold. "Where's my room, Captain?"

He continues to sift through your clothes, "you're in it." He tosses a skirt on the bed. A white floral thing you never had the courage to wear. "You're not wearing sweats all day."

"That... I can't wear that--"

"Oh, you will," he insists. "It's Captain's orders."

[vadersangel]

Temporary - Roman Godfrey x Reader - Oneshot

Synopsis: Everything is temporary, but some things are just too good to let go. Roman Godfrey slowly finds out he might not be as dominant as he thought, and chickens out when faced with the reality of his desires.

Disclaimer: Guys, I had to be warned TWICE by a mutual that I had misspelled very easy, common, simple, absolutely normal words. I'm still sick and fatigued, so bear with me. God's work has to be done, and there's no rest for the wicked. So here it is: my newest baby. My attempt to gift my fellow Roman girlies who believe our boy is a switch. I hope you enjoy it. I know I need to create a tag list, but my brain is mush nowadays. I promise to get to it soon. Love y'all. As per usual, special thanks for @peachesinto for the undying support. Love you, bestie.

Genre: smut smut smut, pure filth and more smut, switch Roman Godfrey, soft femdom reader.

Trigger Warnings: sex, foul language.

Word count: 2457

Boy, love isn’t easy, it's hard She said: Boy, love isn't easy, it's heartache Boy, see everyone leaves and your heart breaks (Lovin' you is heartache) But I still hold on Oh, I still hold on – Chase Atlantic

Having Roman Godfrey’s emerald green eyes on you feels simultaneously like having the first breath of cold fresh air on a winter morning and an asthma attack. The air fills your lungs so completely that there’s no room to accommodate it, and you try to exhale but it’s impossible, so you choke on it. You drown on it. On the note of drowning, being with him also reminded me of when I was a child and took swimming lessons. At one point, I learned how to empty my lungs and sink to the bottom of the pool to sit there. The pressure in my ears was intense, but it was so peaceful… It only lasted a few seconds, of course, before I had to swim to the surface again. Last time I counted, I managed to stay thirty seconds underwater, my personal record.

Just like sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, being peacefully with Roman couldn’t last too long. Eventually, I would need to breathe. Or he would. Or both of us would. And I knew since day one that something would come up to disrupt our situationship. Most people would be too anxious, too demanding, having high hopes and dreams that would have pushed him to the opposite direction a lot sooner. Not me, though. Seven years of therapy had taught me better and I was proud to be very much in control of my emotions; I never expected from people any more than they were capable of giving me, and on the other hand, I never gave too much of myself either. To me, everyone aside from my family was more or less just passing through, a temporary fix before I went off to college and really started living my life. Just temporary, no matter how nice they were, how beautifully their green eyes glistened under the dim sunlight, or how well they fucked, they would all go away at some point. In a way, Roman and I were cut from the same cloth: he ran away whenever anyone got too close, and I never really had to run away because I never got too close to begin with.

Still, those full sinful lips of his, that always curled into an equally sinful smile when he came, felt just too deliciously plump to deny. And then again, those eyes were a tidal wave, dragging me, drowning me. 

When he showed me a side of him not many others had been allowed to see, I knew it was the beginning of the end. It started with the first time he asked me to be on top;

“Can you… Like… Ride me?” The uncertainty in his voice, the way his pupils dilated leaving only a small ring of green visible, made me shiver. He came harder that night than he had ever before, lying on my bed with swollen parted lips and his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. For weeks, it was all he dared to bring up.

Until one day when I was showing him a few sailor knots I had learned last summer from a cousin who joined the Marines. I showed him the Highwayman’s Hitch, then the Slip Knot and finally the Handcuff Knot. To show him the latter, I tied his wrists together and the look on his face was priceless. Then his eyebrows drew together in skepticism as he asked me why the hell did my cousin teach me that. I laughed in response, rolling my eyes at him. But that seemed to have rented a penthouse in his head because a couple of days later he asked me to show him that knot again. So I did. I tied his wrists together firmly. He didn’t have to voice what was going on in that wicked mind of his because his eyes spoke for themselves when he leaned back against the bed’s headboard with a defiant look in his eyes–the fucking little brat! He was already so hard when I slid down his pants, his tip leaking pre-cum and making me salivate. I ran my tongue along his shaft, then swirled it around his tip, tasting his fluid and finally sliding it into the small drippy slit of his cock. He whined, his head tilting back against the headboard, his eyes closing for a brief second before he stared blankly at the ceiling as if his soul had just left his body. In a way, it scared me and I was about to untie him when he spoke in a throaty voice,

“Don’t you dare stop!”

With those eyes, he silently asked me to tie him up countless times after that. It was always the same; he would get in my room when my parents were away, or asleep, casually lie on my bed for a few minutes, before reaching out for the drawer in my bedside table. He would start fumbling through my things, as if he owned everything, until he found the rope. And he would always ask me to try and teach him again how to do that knot. Invariably, it would end with him tied up and cumming all over himself, over me, over my sheets–making a mess of both of us and everything near us.

Roman was tied to a chair, his hands firmly bound behind his back, in our favorite sailor’s knot. He was not fully naked, though, just his arousal exposed to my greedy eyes while I eagerly pressed a vibrator against his tip. His head lolled back. The muscles in his abdomen flexed under his shirt. Again, his eyes glazed over and it never failed to startle me a little. But once again, his hips bucked against the vibrator and a soft moan rolled off his lips.

“You’re…” His voice trailed off mid-sentence, and he had to take in a sharp breath before being able to finish his trail of thought “You’re a psycho!” He chuckled, a gruff and needy sound that made me impossibly wetter in my already damp panties. I had ruined his second orgasm, and he let out an exasperated grunt, pulling at the rope that tied him to the chair. I watched him squirm, contort, and shut his eyes tightly. His cock twitching, throbbing desperately as a few drops of cum pathetically leaked from him staining his shirt. 

Then Roman looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and arousal,

“Slap me…” It was a request, but it sounded an awful lot like a demand. I laughed at him.

“You gotta ask nicely.” I said, with the most wicked grin on my face.

His eyes rolled in annoyance, but when I pressed the vibe against the tip of his cock again, he caved,

“Please?” His voice sounded whiny, so cute I just had to kiss his forehead.

I should have known it would be too much for him.

After that, he ghosted me. Or rather yet, I was the ghost, because he walked past me in the school hallways as if I wasn’t even there. Chest so puffed, with his arm around Ashley Valentine’s neck. Being peacefully with Roman couldn’t last too long. Eventually, I would need to breathe. Or he would. Or both of us would. I should have known that relinquishing his natural power–something he believed he should have simply by breathing–even if he did so willingly, would make him retreat into himself once more.

I’m not gonna lie, I just wanted to curl up on the floor in a fetal position and disappear. Sink into the depths of the Earth to never be seen again. But, I was smart enough to know the drill; everything was temporary, everyone was a placeholder. Roman Godfrey would always do what Roman Godfrey does–only this time he wasn’t the only shark in the tank. He found his match. I was his co-op partner on hard mode.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Later that same week, I had Henry up against a wall at Brooke Bluebell’s party and a very displeased Roman Godfrey staring at us with clenched teeth and fiery eyes. I swear I could feel his gaze burning on my skin when Henry delicately tangled his fingers in my hair while my thumb grazed his bottom lip. And Henry was so sweet. I could have loved him. In another lifetime, another reality, he could have been mine and I would have been happy. Not in a world where Roman Godfrey exists, though. In a world where Roman Godfrey existed everything more or less gravitated towards him. Like a blackhole, he pulled me in.

Henry’s breath caught in his throat while I kissed his neck softly, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over his sensitive skin. I felt his arousal pressing against my stomach through his jeans. When a low, guttural moan escaped his lips, all I could think about was Roman. Roman Godfrey and his plush lips. Roman Godfrey panting and squirming under me. Roman Godfrey and his large hands all over my body. I had to pull away from Henry because I knew it wasn’t fair to him. Thankfully, he didn’t notice that my current state of flusteredness wasn’t due to him, but to my sinful thoughts about another guy.

“Will you excuse me for a few minutes? Gonna grab another drink…” I said, smiling sweetly at him. His eyes beamed when he smiled back at me and he planted the most gentle kiss ever over my lips before unwrapping his arms from my waist and letting me go.

When I turned around, Roman was clearly fuming! His hand gripped his beer bottle so tightly that I thought it was going to break. He bit his bottom lip–not like he did when he was aroused, no–this was a very specific quirk of his, something he did when things were not going as he had initially planned. My eyes widened at the sight of his dilated pupils, and I felt like prey he wanted to sink his teeth into. It looked like he would rip me open if he could, with his bare hands. Right before I averted my gaze and walked past him, I saw his eyes spark devilishly. I knew he was up to no good when Roman strode toward sweet, innocent Henry, who had moved from the wall and was now talking to two of his friends. My heart clenched in my chest; I was about to walk back to Henry, to try and grab Roman’s arm and prevent him from putting in motion whatever sick idea that he had in mind, but it was too late. Roman's shoulder bumped into Henry on purpose, making him lose his balance a little.

Henry didn’t say a word, he just frowned at Roman in confusion–they had never had any trouble before. And it would have ended there because Roman was headed toward the exit of Brooke’s house, probably to grab a smoke, when one of Henry’s friends decided to be stupid,

“Freak!” The guy said sarcastically, making Roman stop in his tracks. The way he turned, deliberately slow, told me he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

“What did you just say?” Roman’s eyes squinted with a terrifying, psychotic rage.

“You heard me!”

Henry, who watched the whole scene dumbfounded tried to reach for his friend’s arm

“It’s ok, just leave it alone!” Henry tried, but his friend didn’t listen to him.

Roman’s smirk turned into a wide, predatory grin.

“Punch him.” Everyone–because now they had managed to call everyone’s attention at the party–gasped at Roman’s words.

“What?” The guy was flabbergasted at first.

“You heard me!”

The guy turned around and his fist landed straight on Henry’s face, making him fall on the ground completely stunned, and clearly in pain. With a bleeding nose and a satisfied look on his smug face, Roman turned around and left. He waltzed out of the mess he had made and I was still trying to understand how the hell he had managed to make Henry’s own friend punch him. I thought it had to be some sort of blackmailing! Henry’s friends rushed to help him, the one who had punched him kneeling down to help him up muttering apologies. 

Meanwhile my legs had a life of their own because I walked out of Brooke’s house following Roman.

“Roman!” I shouted.

He turned to face me, cleaning his nose with a handkerchief. He didn’t say a word, turned around again and headed toward his stupid cherry-red jaguar.

When he opened the door to get in, I placed my hand on the door slamming it shut. My jaw clenched as I waited for him to acknowledge my presence.

“What the fuck?” He turned to face me once more, his lips pressed in a thin line.

I walked a few steps away from him to try and gather my thoughts. Then I faced him, ready to give him a piece of my mind:

“Are you downright insane? Clinically psychotic?”

“They started the whole thing, what are you on about?” He shook his head in mock disbelief, feigning offense as if he had been the one scorned.

“You ask me to tie you up, do a bunch of things to you, treat me like I’m nothing, show up with Ashley fucking Valentine wrapped around you… And then when I decide to give you the smallest taste of your own medicine, you go ballistic? Fuck off, Roman! You got all flustered because you let your mommy issues show through and you can’t handle the truth about yourself! Fuck you!” My words came out in a rush, tumbling out, tripping over one another.

He laughed dryly with a snort, crossed the distance between us in two long strides, and cupped my face with his abnormally large hands, towering over me.

“I’m gonna show you mommy issues!” His voice came out low, in a warning, through clenched teeth that threatened to attack me. So close to my lips I could almost taste him. His expensive Chanel scent clouding my judgment even further—as if that was even possible!

“Then show me, Roman!” I said.

“It’s a shame…” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, “it’s a damn shame that you smell like that fucking loser. Now I have to cum all over you just to prove a point…”

I gulped. My eyes widening. But then I smirked at him,

“You say this now. Then we get back to mine and you beg me to tie you up.”

He shrugged.

“That’s why I’m taking you back to mine.”

Everything is temporary; people are just passing through. But we can do it just once more, drag it on a little longer, before the inevitability of separation hits us.

[luveline]

hi jade !! this is me resending my hotch request bc of ur recent post 🤍 i sent the one about hotch taking care of bau!reader who has a really bad stomachache, thanks so much, i think you’re amazing 💞💞💞

thank you for requesting angel! fem

You do this sad thing with your hands when you're in pain. Aaron wishes he didn't know your tell, that he'd never had reason to understand it, but he does. Your fingers, in particular your pinky, curl toward your palm frenetically, and he has an ample view of your closed off face in the chair opposite. He can pin the moment he knows you're in pain down to the minute twitch of your lip. 

He peeks at Morgan where he lays on the couch before leaning across the table to touch your arm. The jet offers little privacy, so Aaron tries to be delicate. 

“L/N? Are you alright?” 

“Mm,” you hum, too high-pitched to have come out the way you meant it. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You say this, and yet you can't open your eyes, leaning less than subtly away from him as though your pain is catching.

Aaron keeps his head down as he stands so as not to attract attention. You've sat near the wall, leaving an empty seat for him to sit in. “Hey,” he says, touching the crook of your elbow, wanting to fix it, soothe the twitch from your hand, “you're in pain.” 

“It's nothing.” 

“Saying it won't necessarily make it true,” he says. 

“It felt worth trying.” 

He is genuinely perturbed to see you in pain like this without explanation. “You have to tell me what's wrong.” 

“Hotch, I…” you say, your voice wrought with embarrassment as you open your eyes, “it's just my stomach hurts. That's all.” 

“Sharp pains?” 

“Just hurts. Nothing dire.” 

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“Happens sometimes.” 

He puts his arm around you, careful not to jostle your back. You're tense as a rubber band about to snap. It's unlike you to be the more rigid of the two of you, less foreign for Hotch to have softened, especially when it's you. “How often?” he asks, wary of the tears brimming like silver at the corners of your eyes. 

“Just sometimes, I don't know.” You speak in a concise, panicked tenor. 

In this line of work, it could be anything. Not eating enough, not having time to stop for breath. You could be thirsty, sick, anxious, stressed into pain. It could be purely psychosomatic or you could be injured. He can't remember you taking any blows during the last few days away. It could be your period. You might not want to mention that. 

“Y/N,” he says, falling out of boss mode now he's sure it's not going to kill you, and into someone who cares for you, “what can I do?” 

You shudder a breath, slouched under his touch. “It's not that bad.” 

It's clearly a shocking amount of pain. Your shuddering worsens as he pulls you into his side. He's prepared to sit with you until you can give him better instructions, or until the pain passes, or, God forbid, things get worse. “I'm here,” he says, rubbing your arm gently. “Try to breathe.” 

He's wondering why you might think this amount of pain is normal, or acceptable. Wondering why he shouldn't just call for medical assistance here and now, but then you start to come around, your face shining with perspiration. “Oh,” you sigh, wiping your face with your sleeve, leaning into your hand, hiding. 

“Is it getting better?” he asks. 

“I think it's anxiety or something.” Your breath slips out in disjointed huffs. 

He can't guess what it is. Have you been to the doctor? he wants to ask, but perhaps in a moment, when you're steady in yourself again. “From the jet?” 

“No. Maybe.” You frown. 

“Jack doesn't understand that I'm on a plane.” 

You lift your gaze in confusion. Aaron moves onwards.

“He doesn't understand that this is a plane. I brought him by, once, to try to explain why I can't always answer the phone. It's thick metal, you know?” It was an easier explanation than having no signal in the sky. “But he didn't get that it was something that could move. I had to take him to the airport. We watched…” He slows as your eyes meet his completely. “We watched them take off for hours. Now he doesn't get so angry when I don't answer.” 

“Jack was angry?” you ask, half incredulous. 

“A bit.” He tries to string the story together before you can realise what it is he's doing, his arm curling around your from behind, fingers making the most tenuous of circles into the very side of your stomach. A barely there sort of comfort. “It's not like him. He reminds me of his mom when he's angry.” 

Your smile is a physical relief to see. “Does he have tantrums?” 

“Doesn't every kid?” 

You talk about Jack in dulcet tones while he tries to keep the pain at bay, his arm steadfast behind you, your faces closer than they have any platonic business being. He'll pester you into doctors appointments when you touch down, but for now, he just holds you and talks to you like everything is normal. 

You cover his hand with yours when the pain starts anew, talking through it, pain in the soft line of your bottom lip. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. You give him a weak smile. He feels awful, but it makes his heart race. So close, and so pretty, and so upset. “Is there anything I can do?” 

An embarrassing amount of weight lies in ‘anything’. You shake your head, whispering, “Nothing. This is enough.” 

Aaron pulls you in closer and wraps both of his arms around you, hiding you from the others, an aimless attempt to protect you from a pain he can't touch. Someone puts a cup of tea on the table for you, but otherwise you're left alone for the rest of the flight. 

[atlantis-just-drowned]

A/N: Can you tell I'm obsessed with this man? In case you couldn't, here is one more x reader post about him. I wrote it all in one time. It's not even going to be the last. I wish I could say "enjoy" but 95% of my audience and probably of this website in general doesn't know about this man and couldn't care less about him. Still, enjoy my mad ramblings, losers.

CW: There will be a SFW and a NSFW part. For the SFW part: post-canon, mention of PTSD symptoms, maybe also implied cyber-bullying if you squint really hard. For the NSFW part: mention of choking, mention of death, love marks, dumbification, mention of edging, mention of being put on a leash

Damien x reader general headcanons

Please reblog to show support! Likes make posts die :(

Masterlist

SFW

Goofiest goof to have ever goofed

Damien loves being silly with you

Whether it's cracking dumb jokes, getting extra-cheesy, or even randomly spinning you around while he hums a song

He just loves to see you smile, and he can't help but be in a good mood when you're around

Delivers the worst pick up lines, but in a way that's so smooth you'd be almost admirative

Makes a lot of funny voices/tones all the time. Vocal stims go hardddd

Also lots of funny faces too

The amount of details about you he has memorized is insane, you became one of his biggest interests the moment he got a crush on you and he commit every single thing he learns about you to memory

Because of that, he also CANNOT shut up about you. Everyone on earth knows you're his partner

Shows you off on his lives, if you're at his place while he's doing a FAQ, at some point he's going to fetch you and put you on his laps so you can say hi

The first video he does after going back from Nevermoor he's talking about how he found the most perfect partner ever I swear he's down BAD

It definitely causes problem because his community is insane and not all of them are good people, but he does everything he can to protect and manage this aspect for you

I mentioned it in a previous post but I'm certain he has a 4chan account. I'm convinced that canon implies it and will die on this hill

Also, once again based on canon, I'm pretty sure he's a terrible cook, he can't make a good, healthy meal to save his life, which makes the fact that Freddie is good at it even funnier

Like, you've seen Freddie cook before (paywalled canon). It was awesome. You loved the meal. And the moment you leave this cursed place and Damien tries to cook something for you, it's burnt and terrible. The shift is so jarring it leaves you absolutely confused

His apartment is canonically an absolute disastrous mess, but once you start tagging along and you two regularly go to each other's place, he starts trying to keep it cleaner

However, the murder conspiracy boards stay ON

I think after everything that happened back in Nevermoor, he has a hard time talking about true crime like he used to

It definitely has a huge impact on his work and how he talks about those subjects

But it's also his biggest special interest and a way for him to externalize everything, so he doesn't stop his channel either

He also gets anxious and has panic attacks a lot more easily. Definitely keeps having sleeping issues (insomnia and nightmares mostly)

Expect to be treated as sleep medication. He cannot spend a good night without spooning you. You don't entirely solve his sleeping problems but he feels a lot less lonely with you by his side and it helps, in a way

Yaps at you. All the time. He loves yapping. Cannot shut up for the life of him.

Very dedicated boyfriend. Does everything he can to help you around and make himself useful

So affectionate too, he tells you how much you mean to him all the time. Looks at you like you're his entire world

He won't ever admit it but you just make him melt inside. He spent so much time building his cool, chill persona only for you to make him act like a flustered, awkward nerd

Honestly his vibes are somewhere between the nerd emoji and a himbo/himbim lmao

Zero survival instinct

I headcanon him to be AuDHD

NSFW

Carries a bottle of lube with him literally everywhere. I'm sorry but him behind paywall carrying lube in the most unexpected moment will forever be proof to me

Literally down for anything anytime and anywhere if it's for you. Seeing you turned on is a huge turn on for him

He tends to dom more but can sub too from time to time

Remember how I said he can't ever shut up? Yeah. He WILL keep rambling while he fucks you. He makes less and less sense the longer you're at it

Gets desperate so so easily. You don't even have to do much to keep him going. The closest Damien gets to his own end the more his voice turns pleading

Do I even need to mention that he likes it rough? It's just (paywalled) canon at this point. He fucks into you like a madman, he can't help it. Always asking you to go harder on him when you're in charge

Also loud as fuck. He not only can't stop making noises the whole time, but said noises can be heard from outside the motherfucking apartment. Don't even get me started on how bad it gets when he cums

You tried to edge him once. You had to convince your neighbors that they didn't need to call the police because what they heard wasn't your boyfriend dying a brutal and painful death

Loves leaving marks, whether it's you marking him up or the other way around, he just loves it. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, nail scratches, chocking marks, lipstick if you wear makeup, you name it.

Also loves to fuck you stupid. He likes it when you do it to him but there's just something incredibly arousing for him in the idea of railing his amazing, clever partner so hard they can't spell their own name

He wouldn't mind being put on a leash either. Idk why I just think he'd like it. Definitely would get embarrassed about it tho.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Slipknot x Nervous Flyer! Reader (FLUFF)

Hello! A couple days ago I got a request from a lovely Anon who's going to be flying for the first time! This is for you my friend, I hope your flight goes well! (I'm sure it will!) Just some quick little drabbles, I hope you enjoy! Should I start a Slipknot tag list? Let me know in the comments!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Divider credit: @adornedwithlight

(No particular order to this list, just whoever's name I thought of first)

Corey:

Corey would notice you were anxious about your flight before you even got near the plane. He understood why; it was your first time traveling, the whole process was already a bit overwhelming if you weren't used to it, not to mention the airport was extremely busy on top of it, anyone would be stressed. He watches as you nervously bounced your leg, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you waited in line at TSA. “You know, I think I might rewrite the hook for that song we were working on.” He figured there was no better way to distract you than with something you both loved, music. Even just having the familiar topics of conversation seemed to put you more at ease, Corey every so often placing a hand to the small of your back or carefully taking you by the wrist to guide you where you needed to go. By the time you had gotten through TSA the two of you had already worked out the majority of a chorus for something you were working on.

You sighed as you collapsed into one of the hard chairs in the waiting area at the gate, taking a bite of the overpriced breakfast sandwich you had snagged along the way. “You seem a lot less nervous now.” Corey remarks with a playful smile. “It wasn't that bad, was it?”

“No,” you respond with a smile of your own, “not with you here, at least.”

“Well, lucky for you I'll be here the whole time.” He winks, making your cheeks grow warm. Corey silently promised himself he would be by your side through every trip after that.

Sid:

“What's wrong, sugar?” Sid slings an arm over your shoulders, noticing your tense state. You were currently waiting in line to board your plane.

“It's nothing, Sid, promise.” You tried to reassure him with a smile, but he wasn't buying it.

“Sure, that's why your shoulders are in your ears, right?” He asks with a smug smirk.

“Shut up.” You groan, embarrassed by the fact he had noticed you were nervous.

“Are you scared of flying?” He asks quietly, making sure the others didn't overhear.

“I'm just a little nervous, I've never been on a plane before.” You admit bashfully.

“Well, I've flown hundreds of times, and it’s always been a breeze.” He gently nudges your shoulder with his own, offering you a supportive smile. “We’ll get through it together, okay?” He scoops up your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Okay.” You respond with a smile of your own, feeling a little bit better about your trip.

Chris:

You jump as a hand suddenly comes to rest on your forehead. “Easy, baby,” Chris starts with a chuckle, “it's just me.” He tries again with much better success, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “You're looking a little pale, are you alright?”

You tug nervously at your seatbelt, “I've just never flown before, I'm a little nervous.” Chris’s hand immediately slips into yours, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“You hold onto me as tight as you need to, okay? We’ll be there before you know it.” His bright smile puts you at ease. He fidgets with your fingers, answering any questions you had about the trip.

“Thank you for doing this, I know it's stupid.” You whisper.

“It's not stupid.” He reassures you. “You're trying something new and you're nervous.” He tugs you closer to him, letting your head fall to rest on his shoulder. “I happen to think you're being really brave.” He compliments you softly, making your cheeks grow warm. “You just try and relax, I'll keep you safe.”

Jim:

Jim noticed the moment your nerves started to set in about this trip, immediately taking charge in order to make the whole day easier for you. Whether it was a gentle hand to the small of your back in order to help maneuver you through crowds or offering small distractions to keep your mind off how anxious you were feeling. But, let’s be real, he needed that neck pillow that looked like a shrimp, the fact you wouldn't buy it for him was criminal.

Sitting on the plane, he would point out the window. He described how flaps on the wings would move to catch wind, the sound of them unbolting the walkway from the plane, what take off would feel like, anything to help put you at ease. “Feel free to hold my hand if you want to.” He offers with a wink and a playful smile. You can't help but giggle as you intertwine your fingers with his. You squeeze his hand tightly as the plane starts to move, “it's alright, I'm right here.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding both of your hands in his free one, keeping you tucked close to him as the plane takes off. He leans back so you can look out the window once you're up in the air. “It wasn't that bad, was it?”

“No, not with you here at least.”

Mick:

Mick thought you were mad at him. You were unusually quiet on the drive over to the airport, you kept your distance from everybody as you made your way through security, and now you were sitting by yourself staring out at the tarmac. Mick cautiously approaches you, unsure of what had happened to make you so upset, but desperately wanting to fix it. He sighs as he collapses into the chair at your side. “What did I do?” He asks simply.

“Nothing, honey.” And that was all it took for Mick to realize you weren't mad, you were nervous. You had a tremble in your voice that made it sound like you were about to cry.

Mick wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Is it the trip in general or just going on the plane?”

It takes you a moment to respond. “Just going on the plane.” His thumb strokes soothingly over your shoulder.

“Well, I'm going to be right next to you the whole time, and you know I'd never let anything bad happen to you.” He gives you a patient smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, love. But, let me help instead of making me think you're gunna rip my head off, okay?” He chuckles.

“Okay.” You let out a laugh of your own, happy he was here to help you through this.

Joey:

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding when Joey’s thumbs pressed soothingly into the tense muscles of your shoulders. “Nervous, love?”

“A little.” You admit quietly, not wanting the others to hear. “I've never flown before.” He spends a few moments giving your muscles the attention they desperately need.

“I promise, you've got nothing to worry about. After you fly a few times you're probably going to think it's funny you were so nervous to begin with.” He chuckles. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just being with you is helping.” He smiles bashfully at the compliment.

“Good, looks like I'm doing my job then.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

Paul:

You stared straight ahead at the seat in front of you, hoping the others wouldn't notice your rigid posture. You wince slightly as Paul quietly says your name from the window seat next to you. “Are you okay?” You nod, knowing if you looked at him he would be able to read you immediately. Of course, as it would turn out, Paul already knew the answer to his question, he just wanted to see how you would respond.

“You know, I'm also scared of flying.” He offers in an attempt to put you at ease.

“Really?” You respond after a moment. He nods, giving you a hum of affirmation in response.

“I used to make myself sick before getting on planes. I would get so stressed out.” He chuckles. “But, I promise, it's not going to be as bad as you think. The worst part is probably taking off and landing, the rest of it will be a breeze.” His gentle smile was enough to help you relax a little.

“I trust you.” You respond quietly. He holds out his hand, silently offering to let you take it for comfort. Your hand slips into his, your free arm looping through the crook of his elbow as you settle into his side, feeling a lot more prepared for the trip ahead.

[babybearnation]

Hey bear I would like to submit an official event request for headcanons for Pato, Jack, Liam, Marcus, Callum and Christian Mansell with a gn partner with anxiety or autism please

Also the day I became 🥔 anon I had potatoes for dinner so that was fun ❤️

🥔 anon

dude, i'm irish, i fucking love potatoes. please keep in mind that i am not autistic, therefore i am basing the autism section off of a few friends/family members, as well as my own sensitivities with textures & foods, etc. also i know i said only one idea per ask but i liked both options so much that i'm doing both :D

this got long, so everything is under the cut!

gn!reader with anxiety:

pato o'ward:

an actual sweetheart who will never make you feel bad

if you need some time alone, he'll reluctantly give you it, but if there's any way he can stay with you whilst you're going through an anxious spell or an anxiety attack, you best bet he's staying there

he'll hide you from the camera crews and try and make it seem like he's just loving on you, rather than shielding you from the world

if you have any anxious habits that upset you like biting your nails or scratching at yourself, pato will spend ages googling and working on ways to prevent you from making yourself feel worse

genuinely such a sweetheart who will drop everything for you if you start having an anxiety attack

jack doohan:

jack probably knows what its like to have anxiety considering his family and the legacy he has to somewhat live up to

therefore, he's gonna be really sweet and patient with you and your struggles

he may not understand what triggers your anxiety attacks, but you best bet he'll figure out every single way he can calm you down

he refuses to let you feel bad for your anxiety and he will not let you apologise to him for any anxiety attacks you may have

definitely tries to create a safe space for you in alpine's hospitality because he totally understands the desire to hide away and if he can offer you a safe version of that, he will

liam lawson:

aint nobody fucking with his baby when you have an anxiety attack

have you seen this man's glare? he's not letting anyone get close to you and make things worse for you, no fucking way

much like pato, he'd probably be reluctant to leave you alone but if you're in his driver's room, he's a bit less reluctant because he knows that's a safer space for you to hide that just a random side path in the paddock

if you need something of his to help calm down, he will eagerly hand it over. his hoodie? here you go. his shirt? he will walk halfway across the paddock shirtless to go get another one if he needs to. his phone? you'll let him know if anyone important calls.

biggest defender and protector of you and your privacy and safety

marcus armstrong:

must be a kiwi thing because i just KNOW this man be glaring at any camera crews or reporters who try and interrupt him whilst he's with you mid-panic attack

he will literally employ his friends (callum, robert, his teammates at MSR, etc.) to help protect you

it might be obsessive but he always checks that you're okay 5+ times before he gets in the car because he doesn't want you to go into an anxiety attack without him or his friends there to help you

if he needs to, he will educate everyone in MSR or hell, even the entire indycar paddock, on how to deal with anxiety attacks and what to do if you have one

he is SERIOUS about his job as your boyfriend and ain't no one hurtin' his BABY

callum ilott:

callum will be so fucking gentle and delicate with you

the last thing he'd wanna do is exacerbate the problem so when you're mid anxiety attack, he'll whisper soothing words to you, his touch is soft and gentle, and he never treads too far or too fast, afraid to startle and upset you

like marcus, callum will make sure prema knows how to take care of you before the season starts just in case an anxiety attack comes when he's busy doing media or off racing

he's also not afraid to sprint halfway across the paddock to get you anything you need. water? he's finding the nearest fresh source. his hoodie? already retrieved it from his driver's room just for you

he will go above and beyond to make sure you are safe and happy and you're not struggling - that's the very last thing he wants :(

chistian mansell:

he's already fully prepared to help you way before he even met you because he just seems like the kind of guy who'd want to help anyone out any way he can, even if he doesn't know them

he's very ready and willing to drop everything for you - he'd probably even refuse to get in the car if you were mid-anxiety attack or something which makes you stress out even more bcuz PLEASE get in the fucking car, this is your JOB christian

after that, i think he'll work hard to make sure something like that doesn't happen again - he'll help you develop coping mechanisms or he'll ensure that there are staff members who can help you

if anyone has the SLIGHTEST negative piece to say about your anxiety, he will not hesitate to call them out. fuck outta here with that bs

is not afraid to employ the help of pepe marti and have the two of them make massive fools of themselves if it means you'll laugh and smile and calm down - he'll do it, don't test him!

autistic!gn!reader:

pato o'ward:

once again, pato is a sweetheart, let that be known, hear ye hear ye

this man has about 8 bajillion copies of your comfort items. stim toys, chew toys, headphones, hoodies, plushies - whatever you need, he's got 14 variants in his driver's room alone.

if you find the paddock too overwhelming, pato will never force you to go and he will get the best laptop with the best streaming service for his races so that way you can watch at your own comfort level, even though you're literally in the hotel near the track

pato can be quite loud and chaotic, but he's always so careful with you and he will not be afraid to tell people to shut the fuck up if they are being too much

is so down for your weighted blanket, i just know he finds it really relaxing and grounding after a tough race

jack doohan:

jack is so down to just yap at you if you want that when you go non or semiverbal, im not even joking

even though he's clearly not that important in the eyes of alpine, he'll try and get pierre to get alpine to make a nicer material for his team kit that way the texture doesn't upset you

if you find that touching or playing or fiddling with the hair, clothes or accessories of another person calms you down, he's willing to let you fiddle away (he'll apologise a BILLION times over for shaving his hair if you liked playing with it)

jack is pretty friendly and nice, but he will quickly become vicious if anyone upsets or mocks you. he will straight up not tolerate that shit at all

willing to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable when coming to the race track but he knows how loud it is so he won't ever, at all, force you to go with him if you're not comfortable doing so

liam lawson:

gets obsessed with your special interests/hyperfixations because he loves listening to you talk about them and he'll end up sharing any relevant fun facts you teach him with his fellow drivers/his team

he knows unfamiliar touch can be scary to you so he'll warn literally EVERYONE that they have to be careful around you - he refuses to potentially put you in a situation where you get overwhelmed or have a meltdown because that is the last thing he wants

speaking of meltdowns, he's really good at helping you calm down from them - he knows all the right things to say or not say, he knows which comfort items help you calm down quickest and he's even willing to let you scratch at him if that's something that helps calm you down

ll30 merch will be the comfiest, most friendly-to-you merch ever because he wants to see you rocking his fit and he refuses to let you be uncomfortable when you do

if anyone is weirded out by your stim toys, he'll start fucking using them himself to normalise it. he's not letting you be judged just for how you deal with the world

marcus armstrong:

this man will change his whole life to suit both yours and his needs because he loves you so much and he's not gonna let you suffer

he gives off chews on plastic vibes so if he catches you chewing random bits of plastic or chew toys/jewellery, he's chill - that's cool to him. as long as you're safe, of course

he never hugs you whilst he's wearing his race suit. those things are uncomfortable as hell for him, therefore he can't imagine what it would feel like for you and he refuses to find out without your explicit consent

will shit talk fellow drivers or even the reporters if any of them are rude about you. he does not care at all and he never will

if you're a biter, you can bite him. he likes it. he won't make it sexual if you don't but if you do, he's not complaining at all.

callum ilott:

always carries your headphones in a special case that way, should you need them, they'll be a) easily identifiable and b) kept safe and secure, usually in the bottom of his bag

always willing to change clothes if they make you uncomfortable. in fact, he might even go so far as to throw them out and replace them because what's the point in wearing certain clothes if his baby can't hug him whilst he's in them?

will prep all his friends and staff members on how to make sure you don't get overwhelmed and what to do if you are and he isn't there to comfort you

your meltdowns scare him because you seem so upset and so hurt and he hates that. he hates you being hurt and so meltdowns are really difficult for him (obviously, he knows they are more difficult for you, but he can't help how he feels)

every race weekend he attends without you will end up with him coming home with a handful of gifts that he knows you'll like - plushies if you like em, sweets & candies & treats that he knows are your comfort foods, etcetc.

christian mansell:

well prepared KING - he's got everything you need the second you tell him you need it

he doesn't really have a huge say in how his team kit is designed so if it's an uncomfortable texture for you, he'll try and stay out of it for as long as possible to avoid upsetting you

if there's certain foods you cannot stand to be in the same room as, he'll make sure that everyone knows not to bring it near him or his driver's room - if he has to lie and say you're allergic for people to take it seriously, then so be it

if you go nonverbal and just make little noises instead of speaking, he will very quickly pick up on your nonverbal language system and be able to decipher it damn near flawlessly

christian is another driver who is not afraid to yell at other drivers or, if he's comforting you, he'll get pepe to go and do it for him instead - he's not letting anyone disrespect you

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 8

You're so, so pissed.

warning/cw for user having a panic attack- basically hurt no comfort

never mentioning how long it takes for me to write a chapter again because wow hi guys it's been two months... i'll be real, it's not my best work, but if i try to nitpick anymore this chapter'll be out when i graduate haha (additional: this is day 25 of my advent calendar! i know this was supposed to be out on christmas day, i'm sorry, i'm sick 😭)

ao3!

ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

(Why Did I Like You? Breaking it Off)

Your realization is a scary one.

It takes you taking an Uber home, collapsing in your bed and passing out and waking up before you realize the consequences:

Holy fuck, you loved them.

Them being a couple.

An established couple.

Who got along like water in a stream.

You came to another realization not too shortly after: there’s no way in hell you can tell them if you want your friendship to remain the same. And if you don’t want them to think of you as a creep- because that’s exactly how you feel. 

You feel like a creep, wanting to be a part of their undoubtedly closed, private relationship, wanting to get closer than what’s acceptable, at least in your head. You don’t know when or how or why these feelings have arisen- all you know is that they are just there. And you certainly don’t appreciate them at all.

No, you determine yourself to push down these frankly irrelevant feelings. There’s no use for them by either party, anyway.

Little do you know that on the other side of the plaster and drywall , Johnny’s feeling the same as you .

He’s a lot less in denial about his feelings than you are, though. He came to terms with his feelings a long while ago, and he’s been a lot less subtle about his feelings, too. What with the way he had snuck food from his plate to your own when you ate dinner with them just because you said you liked a certain dish or how he had stopped you from paying for anything while at the countless (literally, countless) art fairs you had been dragged to or the hopelessly-in-love looks he gave you from the other side of a room.

However, much like you, he’s scared.

He’s been stockpiling, hoarding random facts about you and committing them to his memory, just to randomly delight you with something you assume he’d forgotten .

He and Simon have had thirds before, multiple times. People that had left well before morning, whatever. They’d never seen anyone like you before—sweet, little you. You who had barged into their hearts with your broken one, nestled deep, curled up and settled.

Still, he’s scared. He and Simon had never talked about their relationship like that before, because they never needed to.

You, though, were making him question things. He had always thought- assumed?- that Simon was the one and only person for him. Only Simon could fill a persistent ache in his heart, could soothe his overactive mind and lull him into rest. However, when you came along, suddenly Johnny felt the same way he had when he first met Simon. Suddenly, he was poking the bear that was the 6’4 masked Lieutenant in base after being transferred into the 141, giddy off of boyish nerves and fickle puppy love that soon turned into something more.

Suddenly, you make Johnny feel as though he’s a lot younger than he is.

And don’t get him wrong, it’s bloody amazing . He adores you- well and truly , he does. He’s scared of how Simon will react, though.

He and Simon are birds of a feather, really, and he knows that Simon likes you a fair amount. The real question is if Simon thought of you the way Johnny did, or if to him, you were just a good friend. It’s that thought that makes Johnny scared- that if he introduced the idea of including you in their relationship, Simon would be disgusted, maybe even offended. It’s that thought that gives him pause and stops him from bringing it up to Simon.

More fuel to the fire of your trepidation: you're so anxious about the sculpture. You know they know that it was someone else (technically), but the memory of throwing that sculpture- god, you feel terrible about it. Yeah, you were maybe a lot intoxicated, but it was still insanely terrifying. You just knew that if you were to go up to them unguarded they would split your brain open and see everything within you. They would be able to tell that you broke the sculpture and they’d see your weakness and then they’d hate you for it. You’re convinced that they’d hate you about it so much that they will get you kicked out of your lovely new apartment somehow, maybe from a friendship with the landlord, and then convince your job to drop you for being a deplorable sculpture-shatterer. Maybe they'd even go as far as to go onto the news about you and your deplorable-ness since Johnny had gained internet reach via the homophobic outburst. Maybe they’d turn you in to the cops. Maybe you’d get locked up, like how Simon was trying to get the original vandal to be. Needless to say, you didn’t talk to either of them about the incident, going rigid whenever it got mentioned, going to yourself ‘god, maybe they’ve found you out’ when all it is is Simon grumbling about the local police being little to no help. You’ve also been sort of avoiding them, not responding to Johnny’s texts as much or purposefully timing taking out the trash to catch Simon and Riley on their afternoon walks. You don’t think they notice, since they’ve been caught up in a sudden wave of support on practically all ends- you’re sure you saw a few strangers loitering on their doorstep a few separate times. 

Despite all of your anxiety, life still moves on. You worked nearly every day for the past two weeks before getting two days off. The clinic had been swamped because a nearby elementary school had a lice outbreak; first-time moms who had never heard about lice shampoo came flocking to your practice. It probably would’ve been funny, you supposed, but it was just tiring to deal with back-to-back upset toddlers with upset parents. You were so tired that when Johnny reached out to invite you to watch a horror movie in preparation for Halloween, you couldn’t even bother with your anxiety declining, just wanting some sort of comfort. 

Now, you’re at the boys’ apartment, contemplating the benefits of leaping out of their balcony; just to rid yourself of the near-crippling anxiety of being so close to the two of them. You're settled into the couch to watch Jennifer's Body with the boys, and Simon is lounged with his mask off and he has one burly arm over the top of the couch , practically over Johnny's shoulders as Johnny sort of sits right in the divot between Simon's cushion (since he’s buff enough to warrant his own cushion) and the cushion he should’ve been sitting on, enticing you to sit closer than normal to Johnny.

Knowing what you know now, you don't. Feeling what you do now, you don’t. You even take the opportunity to put a little space between you two, sitting purposefully on the other side of the couch. You’re honestly scared that if you do sit close to him, they'll take you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Johnny wrong.

You settle in, kicking your stocking-clad feet up onto the couch as you watch the first scene of the movie .

You zone out for a while and it’s not until Simon huffs a gruff chuckle at something or other- you weren't really paying attention- that you zone back in. Then, as if recalling something, his brown gaze bores directly through the fucking tissues of your face, right over an asleep Johnny, who had leaned in his sleep, his head now on your shoulder. He’s kind of (really) scary like this, just staring at you. It’s more tense without a lighthearted Johnny to diffuse the tension.

“You’re jumpy,” he observes.

“I’m not.” You’re not.

“Are y’ sure? You haven’t been seeming like yourself for a while, bun.”

“I’m fine.” You are. He scrutinizes you and you can feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach, which quickly turns into an irrational sort of anger. “Don’t look at me like that.” You half-snap. He had just looked at you so closely that you’re utterly convinced he knows exactly what you’re thinking, which only serves to irritate you further.

“Sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t seem sorry, only surprised.

“No, you’re not.” He’s not . His brow furrows.

“Bun, are you-“

“Stop.” You say, and he does. Johnny starts to drool. You look back to the movie. Simon doesn’t, and it ticks you off- his eyes are analytical but soft. Like he’s pitying you, which confuses you- what about you is there to pity? You’re convinced he knows everything about the sculpture now, what with the intensity of his gaze earlier. He should be feeling angry at you, not sorry for you.

“ Stop looking at me like that!” You burst out, making Johnny flinch awake, his head stuttering as it rises up from your tensed shoulders. He blinks blearily at you and your heart stutters, because even mostly asleep, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. He’s so pretty. It shouldn’t be allowed. Unexpectedly, it just adds more fuel to the fire that is your anxiety-driven rage.

“Wh’s-” Johnny starts.

“Bun, it’s okay- hey,” Simon cuts in.

“Fucking stop! I don’t get how you can be so- so calm all the time when you hate me,” you say, traitorous tears pricking at your eyes. “I know you know that I broke the vase, a-and it’s so infuriating when you act like nothing’s wrong! Like it doesn’t matter! Like you’re just- waiting for the perfect moment to strike on me and force me to pay my dues or something! Being quietly pissed off is shitty and rude and dehumanizing!"

You fight through the rising nausea and-

"-I hate that you know that I love you!" Embarrassment rises to your cheeks. It's slick and toxic, because *what the fuck*, no way you just said that?! You're fuming as you get up on unsteady feet and leave their apartment, narrowly avoiding the next wave of trick-or-treaters. You fumbled with your key before prying open the door of your apartment , falling onto your bed and crying into your pillow, frustrated with yourself.

That was awesome. That was great. You'd just confessed everything you knew they knew- if they didn't, they surely did now. They'd hate you. You really had to start detaching yourself from your apartment now, because you were almost 99% they would be reporting you for harassment or something to your landlord.

----------------------------------------

Both Simon and Johnny are confused as they sit on the couch in stunned silence in the aftermath.

"Well." Simon murmurs.

"Yeah.”

“I mean… well, fuck. Right bloody mess, that.”

“Only a mess? More like-” Johnny stops himself and bites his lower lip , hesitating .

“Well? Go’n, then,” Simon interjects, bumping Johnny’s shoulder. “More like what?” 

Internally, Johnny berates himself for the slip-up, since the plan has never been to tell Simon the truth. To confess that he-

No, he’s sure Simon must have an inkling of the direction of the secret he’s concealed for the better half of a month. Simon knows him too well, too intimately, their souls too closely intertwined for any secret to survive longer than a month. He should just fess up, he knows, but speaking the words would only be painful and he feels like they both could do with a lot less pain.

“Si, it’s-”

“Bullshit,” Simon says nearly immediately, his eyes glaring daggers through Johnny’s skull, making him gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Jus’ spit it out.” He hisses.

“I… Si,” he sighs out. “Si, Ah really like them. Like, really,” he says sulkily. “Ah still love ye the same, an’ I still think you’re my soulmate an’ all, But…. Somethin’ abou’ them, Si, I dunno.”

“Ah, Johnny,” Simon says, sighing, drawing Johnny closer to his side. “Tha’ isn’t anything to worry about,” he rumbles, “I feel the same, y’know. Thought you clued it out by now.”

“Really?” Johnny asks, peering up at his lover.

“Yeah, really, with your dumbass.”

“Oh. Well. I think- I think they feel the same.”

“You think ? They fundamentally confessed, love,” he mutters.

“Yeah, ollright,” Johnny huffs. “What d’ya suppose we do, then, if yer all-knowing?”

“Well, we tell 'em, don’t we? Get them a nice dinner. Some wine. The works.”

“Uh-huh. I think they’re scared of us, though, Si,” Johnny says quietly.

“I think you’re paranoid.” Simon presses a kiss on Johnny’s forehead. Johnny huffs again but offers no further cheek. “I say we take ‘em out to Ivy Springfield’s. Alright?”

“Alright.”

<- back next ->

[peace-for-levi]

{when you need me...}

who would i be if i didn't project my mental health onto 2D characters/reader and not write about it? i see so many fics of reader being worried for nanami while he's out in shibuya and… we all know what happens there.

content warning: detailed descriptions of anxiety, reader refers to themselves as 'wife' (reader thinks they are a bad wife) and the use of 'she'. it's otherwise in the 2nd person perspective. negative self-talk/beliefs. use of pet names. nanami being the bestest husband. i miiiiight have made him OOC and overindulged on how soft i made him BUT ITS OK YOU GOTTA BE A DELULU IN THIS ECONOMY.

+18 discord server

No, you were not going to call him. Absolutely not! Or text him either, for that matter.

The anxiety had been bubbling away all day inside your head like billowing storm clouds. You were grateful work kept you occupied, but once you arrived home, you trudged to your bedroom. You didn't even change out of your work attire.

You knew the source of all this, too.

Nanami came home injured while you were out dealing with another curse of your own. Thankfully, he had dealt with the bleeding himself and got checked out by Shoko. But to see him come so depleted of energy – dark shadows hanging under his eyes like bats, shoulders heavy – left you extremely unsettled. You were already an anxious mess, and now there are talks of a special-grade 'patchwork' curse. Not to mention the two unregistered cursed spirits that Gojo encountered.

What was going on in the world?

Now, he had been called out to the school again. After being badly injured, no less!

What if he was asked to fight the patch-work curse again? Was that curse able to perform Domain Expansions? Your husband never reached that height of jujutsu…

Would he… make it home okay?

You worked a "normal" job, not being employed at as a teacher at the highschool. As a grade one sorcerer, though, you were sometimes called in on particularly difficult and awkward missions. Your figured your problems with anxiety in the past would slowly fizzle away if you quit working at that highschool; after all, they couldn't make you exorcise and hunt down curses as often if you didn't work there. In your naivety, you assumed that'd be the end to your worries. But they only persisted and got worse the longer your husband of four years continued to work there as a teacher.

You couldn't resent him for it, and you knew he found greater fulfillment in being a teacher than adhereing to the laborious life of a salaryman.

But, maybe… your selfish thoughts got the better of you when you wished he could work a more "normal" job like you… If he worked a job where his safety was guaranteed…

How could you say such a thing? What kind of wife says that?!

Your hand collides against your forehead, releasing a (poorly contained) groan. Your teeth continued to chatter.

Now, I'm a bad wife on top of everything else…

Gruesome images flood your mind's eye. It's obsessive, relentless. After all, you have to prepare for the worst to come, right…? That's what you always do.

If you were by his side, would that make you feel any more relieved? Just by seeing him? But like a jolt, any solution you try come up with is met with more disturbing imagery. It was so vivid, it is as if you were there.

All that gore and worry conjured up in your cursed, anxious little head. The redness – so much red – of your imagery. It seeps and spreads along the ground at a terrifying rate, the image of someone – Kento – bleeding out. No one is there to help him.

You are.

You aren't gifted like Shoko, though.

There is no amount of horror – be it from forms of media or the wicked imagination – that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another; the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. As your loved one leaves this earth.

You're anxious, you're spiralling… You just wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to confirm with you he was okay. But you disturb him enough already with your texts and calls during missions.

Of course, in reality, if you hailed for Kento, he'd drop everything to be with you. He always has.

You didn't realize your thumb was hovering above the 'send' button. Through bleary eyes, you can see a hastily constructed text. Loaded with typos and errors. You're hardly able to read it though. Thumbs fidgting, you toss the phone.

You knew, logically, that he would want to help. He always has helped. But god, maybe you wanted to be big girl for once and try deal with it without him? Maybe be a good wife who doesn't send him a barage of texts when she's anxious?

Anxiety is the leak in your boat. You have to find a way to patch that hole or you'll drown.

But how can you when your worries revolve around your husband's safety?

You try cling to the logic that he has never refused you, made you feel stupid or invalidated you. Ever. But why would you cling to logic when the voice of your anxiety echoes through megaphone at you.

Of course, you're a distraction. Of course, you're a nuisance.

You hadn't even done a single chore to help around the house today. Some wife you were…

Kento would tell you that these thoughts you have are ridiculous. But you couldn't help it. You felt like you were holding him back from everything he deserved – you were so blessed to have a husband like him. You counted your lucky stars to be with him, but you ultimately felt like you didn't deserve him.

But Kento wasn't here now. So all you had was your mind to bully you.

The thoughts come as an electrical storm in your brain that, quite honestly, are painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow. It's uneven breaths as you claw at your chest, and it feels like you're suffocating; all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It's sobbing to the point of staining your shirt. The intense images come at you with cursed intent. Like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable, paralysed with fear and unmoving. And you couldn't, for the life of you, talk yourself out of the spiral.

It wasn't as if you didn't want Kento to be there. You were just denying yourself of his presence. You thought you were being brave, you thought—

Ping!

You lower your hands from your eyes. You gaze at the phone, blinking owlishy, before picking it up.

You let out a groan. In anxiously twiddling your thumbs by your screen, you had sent the (questionable-looking) text.

You don't even have time to berate yourself, for your ringtone begins to chime.

"[F/n], honey. I don't quite understand your text," he greets. He goes back to doing what he was doing – it sounded like he was tidying something away. "Principal Yaga has us staying behind at the school to–"

He stops.

He immediately stops upon hearing you whimper over the phone.

"Sweetheart?"

You mumble, "I-I– Um, N-Nanami, I–"

What if he loses his patience today? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?

You can hear him shuffling over the phone. "Talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?"

You don't want him to leave work on your account. Damn, your thumbs! If only it stayed as an unsent draft.

You panicked. "I-I'm fine! I think I just–"

You hear him sigh. "You're a terrible liar… You're not fine." A pause. "I'm coming home."

"No, Kento, please–!"

The call ends there. Your fingers seize up and your phone falls to the bed. Your wrists bash off your head, hitting yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Ping!

Be safe. I'll be there in fifteen.

Your heart sinks, especially knowing that he'd probably break several road safety laws to get back to you as soon as possible.

Another notification arrives swiftly after that.

I love you. You'll be fine.

The fifteen minutes drag by so slowly. You're still rooted at the side of your bed. Not having changed, started laundry, started making dinner. You shake your head. It's frightful how automatically you chastise yourself for anything and everything. Once you hear the click of the door, you shudder and cower, waiting for him to come into your shared bedroom to berate you.

Your eyes are clamped shut still, even when you feel his calloused thumb rub at your knee.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he says, and when he speaks it's so soft. Soft like he'd holding fine china.

He's careful to not press your boundaries too much, not wanting to hold you tighter. But he doesn't sense any resistance right now. You let him hold you.

He holds you like you are the most precious and loveliest thing in his world.

(You are.)

As if you weren't crying enough already, his touch makes you crumble more.

"What has you so anxious, [F/n]?" he asks, rubbing your arms up and down. He pulls away briefly to ask, "May I sit?"

You nod and he sets himself down. You overwhelmed by his love. You always have been. He always spoils you with his soft, passionate touch and his gentle words. You sniffle and it takes every ounce of self control to not explode into a heaving, babbling mess (more than what you currently were.) You continue to sob into his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. You're alright, you're going to be just fine, sweetheart. But in order to be okay, you're going to have to stop holding your breath like that."

You hadn't even realized. You always had been an open book to him.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Your thoughts were so out of control, you were in a terrible cycle of either hyperventilating, or holding your breath. You shake your head, trying to break free. He doesn't let go entirely, but he loosens his grip. His hands hold yours, breathing deeply, as if trying to do it for you. You continue to resist, fighting his hold more as you take agonizing breaths.

"Let me hold you. Let me make things better. Let me stay."

You sob harder, knowing that once again he'll be picking up the pieces. Your pieces.

"What has you so worked up?" he asks, in between practiced, deep breaths.

Before you even have a chance to say anything, he whispers softly against your temple, "I love you. So, please, let me in."

And you let everything out.

He holds you close again once each and every worry comes out. He rocks you slowly back and forth, he plants the odd kiss to your dewy temple. He listens to you intently, taking in everything you say and more. He has heard these worries countless times before, and he listens to them as if these are being revealed to him for the first time. He gently 'shhhh's against your brow when you start to hiccup and unravel more.

As your husband, he wants to be able to promise you his safert; he wants to promise he'll come home in one piece.

But he can't do that. Because he doesn't know how any of this will play out.

So he hugs you, impossibly tighter.

"What can I do to help? Tell me what I can do to make it all okay…"

You want to be a good wife; you don't share the selfish thoughts you have, of wanting him to work at a normal job again. Even when he hated it, even when it left him feeling so drained.

So you say nothing and you let your little lie spread its wings.

You calm down in his arms, holding you until your limbs feel heavy. He continues to soothe you as best as possible. His voice was so achingly gentle, rubbing circles into your hips. It has your heart shattering into pieces.

Mindlessly, you mumble under your breath. "I just want you to be okay…" you admit.

He averts his gaze helplessly, because knows he can't promise you that. He relaxes and lays down on the bed, taking you with him. You undo the top button of his shirt.

He smiles sadly. It's the one thing he can't promise.

And though he'll never let you know, he feels like he fails in this duties as a husband.

But sometimes, he knows he's at least doing something right when he helps calm you down from such a state that you end up dozing off in his arms. He holds you til his arms limp and heavy.

In this blood-stained, fleeting life, he'll walk with you to the ends of this earth.

Even if he must depart early.

taglist: @levi-my-beloved @licuadora-nasir @nelapanela94 @whattheheckmidoriya @poisonpeche @unadulteratedtreecrusade @notgoodforlife @sckerman @theferricfox @happybird16 @jayteacups and idk who else

[vaporwavedoggie]

Amethyst

A Peri x Irep short story

So help me Jesus I got back into writing fanfiction

"Hey.. are you willing to meet up and talk?"

The text from his oh so wonderful on and off again boyfriend lit up the screen. Peri sighed and rolled over in his bed. It was 2am, Dev had been asleep for hours at this point. They had been on a break for a few months at this point, and he was actively avoiding every text he's gotten from him. He already knew why he tried to take his god kid, as some way to get back at him for ignoring him. Peri didn't know whether or not he wanted to continue with this relationship. So much fighting. It seemed like they were on opposite sides of the universe considering.. they were opposites.

"Peri? I know you probably won't respond but.."

The notification popped up at the top of his phone. He knew it was most likely going to be some long-winded rant he's sending him at the dead of night because he can't sleep and he's on his mind. But to be honest.. he was on Peri's mind too. He thought to himself 'eh.. no harm in looking I guess' and tapped on the notification.

"Peri? I know you probably won't respond but.. it's been awhile. I miss you and I want to catch up. So much has happened since we've been apart and I want to see how you're doing. Sorry I'm rambling, I probably sound stupid, but I promise you I'm not trying to get back with you I'd just like to catch up."

Peri sat up and ran a hand through his hair, playing with one of his curls. He was debating whether or not to take Irep up on his offer. Whether or not it'd be worth it to have all the pain from their break come up again, whether or not it would just lead to another fight.. he sat there staring at the wall for a good 5 minutes, deep in thought before he picked his phone back up.

"Alright, we can meet up, but it'll have to be now since the kiddo's asleep and I don't have any free time when he's not."

He tapped the message quickly, sent it, then shut off the screen. He flipped his phone over in his hand a few times, then less than a minute later, he got a response.

"That works :) I kind of figured, which is why I texted you now. You've always been a late sleeper.. anyways, meet up at our usual place?"

'Always been a late sleeper? Ha! As if he doesn't stay up until 6am..' Peri thought to himself. He quickly tapped out another message.

"Sure. Give me a few to get ready and I'll be there :P"

Peri got up out of bed and stretched, popping his back. He grabbed his wand off his bedside table and poofed out of his pajamas and into his usual outfit. Figuring he was going to be up the rest of the night, he also poofed himself up an energy drink and chugged it. His stomach hurt a bit from it, but he was too anxious to really care. Lifting up his wand, he then went off to their usual meet up space, which was a small park somewhere in Fairy World. One where they spent the most time at as kids.

Once he got there, he shot Irep a quick text saying he was there, and went to sit on the swings. No one was around since it was so late, so he decided to swing for a bit. Despite being in his 20's, he still very much enjoyed it but couldn't do it around the other fairies without being stared at. He then heard some laughter behind him.

"God, you're such a child!" He immediately recognized Irep's voice and slowly came to a stop. Without even turning to look at him he said "You're one to talk!! I know for a fact you do this too!"

Irep took the swing next to him and chuckled to himself as he sat down. "Well yeah, reminds me of when we were kids.. when things were a lot more uh.. hopeful."

Peri looked at him and smiled. "Eh, I'd say things are still pretty hopeful now. I'm a god parent now! Never thought I'd get my license, haha.."

"Yeah.. I wanted to talk to you about that. I thought you didn't want any god kids?" Irep raised an eyebrow.

"Well.. it's a job, and I figured why not. It seems to be fulfilling, well at least, it was to my parents. And hell, we even exist because of one of my parents god kids!"

"Yeah.. though I worry. He seems a bit.. tough. And from what I've heard, you two argue about as much as we did in high school."

Peri smirked. "Heh.. yeah. He's a little tough, has a lot of daddy issues. But you seemed to get through to him fine. It's just.. I don't know what I'm doing wrong man. I'm trying my best with this kid and it's like.. nothing I ever do is good enough for him."

"Eh.. honestly I could do the thing where I over analyze everything but I know you hate that so I'll save it."

"Actually, it might be useful right now, so shoot."

"Hm.." Irep kicked his feet in the woodchips underneath him, thinking for a moment. "You seem to expect everything to come to you so easily, and have little patience for when it doesn't."

Peri crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Ever since I've met you, if you can't do it right the first time, you either.. burn out or give up. You also get.. really angry at yourself, turn inward, and become bitter. You lose patience very easily when this happens."

"Why do you think that could be?"

"Well, a number of reasons.. we've talked about the issues we've had with our parents before. How yours nearly suffocate you with praise and affection to the point where you avoid them and wouldn't even tell them you got a god kid until they found out themselves. You were the first fairy baby born in a millenia, and I hate to say it but because of that you were spoiled rotten. Your parents were over protective of you because of their own mommy and daddy issues, so they tried to make up for what they didn't have by giving it to you, but.. they did too much. And because of that you burn out very easily and it drives you up the wall when it even looks like you're slightly failing. You're an overachiever and expect only good things to happen to you when.. that's just not how life works."

"Hm.. guess you're right.."

"Life is a constant rollercoaster of emotions. You can't just expect only the good to happen to you, you also have to expect the bad as well. Not saying to prepare for the bad or get yourself too anxious by trying to fix things before they're broken, but you know.. accept that good things don't happen all the time. Life has its struggles. That's part of it. And from what I gathered, being a god parent requires a LOT of patience, which is something you don't have a lot of, and self forgiveness, which is something you barely do. I mean, you still hold on to mistakes you made way back in spellementary school!"

"Eh, true. How are you able to gather this much from me?"

Irep chuckled a bit. "You act as if I hadn't been by your side since we were babies. As if I hadn't noticed every small detail about you, like.. how your eyes sparkle just right in the moonlight. It looks like amethyst."

Peri shoved Irep. "Quit being mushy! We're still on break. Plus.. you act as if you don't have the exact same eyes as me."

"What can I say? We're both egotistical little shits, are you really surprised we fell in love in the first place?"

"Hah.. nah.. god, remember how pissed our parents were when they found out we were hooking up behind their back? They tried so hard to keep us apart. 'Anti fairies and fairies should never be together, especially when they are exact opposites of each other, da rules, blah blah blah'."

"Yeah! And then your mom walked in on us and threw anything she could get her hands on at me? Good times."

"Psh, yeah.. we were dumb teenagers, what can I say. And I guess the only difference is a few years. Now we're dumb adults."

They both laughed a bit, and Peri looked down at his feet.

"..I still love you, you know. Even if you decide to break things off with me permanently, I always will."

"Oh, you're always such the romantic! I'm swooning." Peri chuckled and Irep looked into his eyes.

"No, but.. I'm being serious. My biggest regret in our relationship is.. smothering you like your parents did. I didn't realize I was doing it, I.. you're the only one that's ever showed me love. You know how my folks are, wasn't raised in the most loving family so.. I tried to overcompensate by trying to return all the love you made me feel."

"I know, Irep, I know. But.. I don't know, im just so confused. I don't know what I want to do, who I want to be, so I'm trying to figure that all out now."

"Heh, is that why you got a license and took on a god kid?"

"Eh, part of it.. I wanted to see if it would suit me. Besides maybe I'll learn how to be patient from this. Maybe the kid will give me challenges I'm not used to and help.. balance me out. I don't know. I know I shouldn't expect other people to fix me, let alone a kid, but how do I even begin to fix myself when I don't know where to start?"

"Take baby steps. Try different things and see how it works. You're doing good by getting out of your comfort zone now, but you need to remember to be patient and forgive yourself for any mistakes you've made."

"Yeah but.. that's a lot easier said than done. How do I even begin to learn patience and self forgiveness? Where do I even start?"

"Hm.. that's something you'll have to figure out on your own. I know the best way to do it is experiencing hardship period, and I can already see with Dev you will. Biggest thing to remember is he's a kid. He will fuck up. He will make mistakes. There are times where he'll be mean to you, say hurtful things, and get under your skin. But you CAN NOT take it personally. You have to keep in mind he's still a growing human. You've seen how messed up the human world is, imagine going through what they go through with absolutely no magic at all. Sure we had puberty and all that shit but at least the magic made it a bit easier and a hell of a lot more fun."

"True.. I just end up getting so frustrated with him I want to rip my hair out! And you know how much I love my hair! But, I don't know.. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I'm going into this blind aside from what I was taught in the classes. I'm too afraid to go to my parents for advice because they'll just be like 'oh you're doing great just keep doing what you're doing'! I swear, I've always appreciated how you can be blunt and honest about things, it's something I really look up to about you. As annoying as it gets when I don't ask for it.. it is helpful. So thank you."

"Always."

Peri got up and stretched. "You know, Irep. I do miss spending time with you like this.. like our late night talks."

Irep's eyes lit up. "We can do them more often, if you'd like!"

"Hm, maybe. I just have some.. personal feelings to work through before I'm ready for us to see each other regularly again."

"..Yeah. I get that. But until then, I'll be here when you are ready."

"Hah, yeah.. it's getting late. Or I guess I should say, early. The kid will be up in a few hours and I gotta go be a parent.. but before I go.." Peri stood in front of Irep and held his hand out to him. He took Peri's hand, and he pulled Irep up, close to his chest.

"Oh and hey.. didn't get a chance to tell you this, but I love you too. I don't wanna give up on us yet, I just need.."

"Time?"

"Yeah. But before I go, I want to give you something." And before Irep could answer, Peri pressed his lips against his, then broke away from him and put his head on Irep's chest.

"You know, your eyes do a sparkly thing too when I kiss you but I don't have any other purple shiny things to compare them to."

"Hah.. you're a goof. But look at you being all romantic. And you called me mushy!"

"Shhhh." Peri pulled out of the embrace. "Anyways.. I'm going to spend the next few hours scrolling through my phone. Uh.. I'll try to text you when my brain isn't acting stupid."

Irep smiled. "Of course. Take your time, don't push yourself, and again.. I love you."

Peri smiled back. "I love you too." And with that, he lifted his wand and poofed back home.

He flopped down in bed, immediately poofing back into his pajamas and pulling up his phone. He was compelled to look back at old photos of the two before he went back to scrolling mindlessly on social media.

God he wish he could figure his shit out quicker, but like Irep said, he needs to learn to be patient. So maybe this is a good test for him.

[msmk11]

I saw that you wanted some tangerine requests. I'd say I'm pretty good at requesting those🤓☝️.

OK, so I really like this concept.

Tangerine and reader have met before. Maybe it was at a gala. Maybe it was on a mission, I'm just gonna leave that open to you. But the point is, they have had multiple meetings before. Maybe they flirted on the mission or maybe they just got into a fight, again leaving that for you.

Basically, Lemon Tangerine and Reader have all been assigned to do a mission. And before that mission happens, they're planning at a dinner ( They don't really have the worry about blowing their cover because the diners kind of like in assassin's diner where assassins can meet up)

And a scene like this happens (ripping off of pulp fiction) And instead of talking about the pilot, he brings up her career as an assassin.

https://youtu.be/O3tGImqhrMo?si=1FVe6VFQSvZC7UfR

They flirt, they plan, Lemon feels awkward

And they both leave thinking about each other. I love this concept so much!!!!

Sorry for any grammar mistakes

I’m Sorry, Thank You, I’ll Always Protect You

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.5k

CW: lots of cursing, mention of weapons and blood, mentions of food, mention of alcohol, smoking (just cigarettes), mentions of death/fighting (it’s a Tan fic for goodness sake)

Author’s Note: Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you enjoy! (This fic is also proof that I can’t write briefly for the life of me.) (also, side note, for the sake of the fic, your codename is viper)

The charming classical music playing softly in the background hardly matches your agitated mood. Your handler had just given you a new mission. One that, to your dismay, was not a one-man job, but rather, required you to work with partners. You always preferred to work alone because having a partner could get messy fast. Whether it was because they were too gutsy, not gutsy enough, or they were a cocky, arrogant asshole, you’d been thrust into one too many less-than-desirable situations because of the interference of a partner. Therefore, going into this mission, you are, rightfully, hesitant, and you pray that you haven’t been partnered with a total fucking idiot.

You anxiously check your watch for the umpteenth time, drumming your fingers on the dark, wooden table. Your new partners are not late, yet, but the dread pooling in your stomach makes you anxious to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

“Viper?” A deep, heavily British voice declares.

“That’s me,” you say, looking up. And then your voice dies in your throat.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell,” the man in front of you curses.

It’s him. That arrogant bastard you’ve had the unfortunate luck of working with before. His twin is here too, of course, and you’re thankful for the slightly more pleasant company.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite twins, Peanut Butter and Jelly,” you drawl.

Peanut Butter and Jelly- your own personal nicknames for the twins. Ones that, to your delight, really pissed off the brunette.

“Told you not to fucking call us that,” the mustached man grumbles, sliding into the booth across from you.

His brother follows after him, and you notice the smirk he is trying to hide, “You’re just mad that you’ve been dubbed Jelly.”

“Yeah, ‘cos everyone bloody knows that peanut butter is the better part of the fucking sandwich. And I’m the better twin, obviously, so I should be peanut butter” he growls.

“The masses would disagree, Jelly, you fucking prick,” you retort.

His jaw tenses and you can’t help but revel in the feeling of getting him all worked up.

“Well aren’t you still a fucking daisy,” he replies.

“And as charming as always,” his brother adds, winking.

“Always a pleasure to see you PB. Though I suppose I can’t call you that on the job. What’ll your code name be this time?”

“I’m Lemon,” he responds, “and my brother here is going by Tangerine.”

You snort, “like the fucking fruits?”

Tangerine glares at you, “Yes, like the fucking fruits. What’s so funny about it?”

You hum and sigh dramatically, “I don’t know, Tan, it just seems a little silly, don’t you think? I mean, I can see Lemon being intimidating, because you never know what you’re gonna get with one. But Tangerine sounds pathetic, really. It’s the snack of grubby-handed children.”

You’re pretty sure his mustache twitches, and his hands certainly close into fists, “It’s sophisticated, yeah? Classic. No one likes fucking lemons.”

You feign mock offense, “I do. I like lemons a lot, actually. Tangerines, not so much.”

“Well sorry if I don’t really value your fucking opinion,” he spits out.

“I like lemons too, mate,” Lemon tells him.

“Well fuck me then.”

In your most teasing, seductive voice you reply, “Later baby, we have work to do first.”

Tangerine chokes on his spit and you hide your smirk as you pick up the menu.

Lemon coughs uncomfortably as he follows suit, “so what’ll it be tonight? We’re paying.”

“Like fucking hell we’re paying for her,” Tangerine protests.

Though you can’t see it, the grimace that flickers across the brunette’s face tells you that Lemon has kicked him in the shin, “Be fucking polite will ya, brotha’? Can’t go around dressed like that and then not pay for people.”

Lemon isn’t wrong. Every time you’ve seen Tangerine, he’s been dressed to the nines, fitted in the finest of suits and decked out in gold bling. It’s a wonder to you that he ever dresses nicely at all, considering all the blood that ends up on him by the end of a mission.

The brother with frosted tips, you think, has always had more swagger and appropriate mission-clothing. He is usually dressed more casually in a jean jacket and semi-formal shirt. Tonight, it’s a blue button-up with a Thomas the Tank Engine tie.

Before Tangerine can make some nasty reply, the waitress appears at the table asking if you’re ready to order. It’s a sight to behold, watching the cocky douche switch from his true, unpleasant self to a polite British gentleman.

“Yes, darling. I’ll take the steak, medium rare, and a whiskey f’me, please.”

You’re not surprised he orders a fucking steak, and, for some reason, it really pisses you off. While Lemon orders a burger and fries, you scan the menu looking to order whatever will tick him off the most.

“And what’ll it be for you, ma’am,” she says to you.

“I’ll have the most expensive thing on the menu, please,” you tell her sweetly. And then, you motion to your counterpart, “Tangerine here is paying tonight, and said to treat myself. Quite the doll, isn’t he?”

Tangerine masks his grimace with a charming smile, one that makes the waitress blush a little.

“Only the best for you, love” he says through gritted teeth.

You ignore the way your heart flutters the teeniest bit at the nickname.

When the waitress walks away with your menus, the brunette merely glares at you.

You only give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Thank you, Tan. You’re awfully generous.”

He inhales sharply, trying to stay calm.

“If ya didn’t have such a pretty face, I think I’d punch ya right now. Lucky for you, darling.”

“Lucky for you too, I guess. Wouldn’t want my blood to ruin your shiny, new bling,” you retort, judgmental eyes trailing down to his adorned fingers.

“Right well,” Lemon interrupts, “can we get down to business? Please. You two’s bickering is making my hair whiter than it already is.”

Tangerine bites his tongue and nods while you just smirk.

Lemon turns to you, “Viper, I’m sure you got the briefing?”

You nod.

“I can tell this job is gonna be a lot more fucking difficult than our last one. We gotta save one person from a whole ass gang. It’s gonna be bloody.”

You lean back casually in your seat and cross your arms, “Won’t be a problem for me, Lemon. These sorts of jobs are my speciality.”

You dig through your bag beside you and pull out a pack of cigarettes. You put one to your lips and then curse, “Bollocks, forgot my lighter. Either of you happen to have one on you?”

Lemon shakes his head, “Nah, don’t smoke. Already put my life at risk everyday for my job. Not about to tease fate with those killers.”

The cigarette hangs loosely between your lips and you smile lazily at him, “to each their own, I guess. Tangerine?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and smirks, “Might, if you give me a cig.”

You roll your eyes at him and sigh. You pull out another cigarette and give it to him. He pops it in his mouth and then pulls out a silver lighter from his suit pocket. He flicks it on with one try and holds the lighter to the tip. It lights and smoke pours out. You watch the way his pink lips blow out a ring of smoke, and it’s for much longer than you’d ever admit. He takes another long, slow drag and you know that he’s testing your patience. As much as you want to nag him to hurry up, you don’t, knowing that if you did, he’d only purposely take longer. Finally, he holds out the lighter towards you. You go to take it from him and he swiftly pulls it back.

“Like fucking hell you’ll take this, love. This here is my nicest lighter, and I’m not going to let you fucking break it.”

You huff, “Fine, fine. Do whatever the hell you want.” And under your breath you mutter, “Asshat.”

You lean across the table, cigarette between your lips, and he reaches out to light it. The tiny flame pops up, and his hand gets so close to your mouth that if you moved forward just a little bit, your lips would connect with his skin. It isn’t an unpleasant thought, and that’s what disturbs you the most. Once it’s lit, you quickly pull away and take a long drag. You close your eyes and let the smoke work its way into your lungs, calming you.

“So for the mission,” you sigh, taking another inhale of smoke, “I think one of you two needs to be in charge of getting the hostage, so I can help take out the mob.”

“Yeah bloody right,” Tangerine argues, “Lemon and I are a team. You’re not fucking spliting us up.”

You lean forward and narrow your eyes at him, “For the sake of this mission, we’re a team. And if you have a fucking problem with that, Tangerine, I’m going to have a fucking problem with you.”

Tangerine is about to spit something else at you when Lemon interferes.

“That’s enough bickering from you two. We all have to work together, whether you like it or not. So you two best sort yourselves out now, because I swear to god, if I die ‘cos you two can’t get your shit together, I’m going to come back and kill you both.”

You turn and look at Lemon seriously, “Last I recall, I was the one that almost fucking died last time because of your shithead brother.”

(flashback)

Though it had been nearly three years since your last mission together, you could remember that night clear as day. It’d been a double-profit job- you three were assigned to attend a charity gala and steal a diamond necklace being auctioned off while also partaking in a little shill bidding to hike up the price of the necklace. A heist/scam job, in your opinion, was an easy cash-grab in comparison to your usual missions as an assassin. Tangerine and Lemon had thought so too. The plan had been simple: you and Tangerine would appear at the auction as a wealthy couple interested in buying the necklace, and drive the bidding price way up. The highest bidder would pay a hell of a lot more than the necklace was worth, and that chunk of money would go straight into the pockets of your employer.

Lemon, on the other hand, had gotten hired to be a part of the auction staff, which gave him the chance to switch out the diamonds for a fake.

You’d shown up that night in a sleek, midnight blue dress that hugged your curves and shimmered slightly like the night sky. Tangerine had worn a suit that matched in color, though it was adorned with white stripes. He’d looked really bloody good that evening and you’d hated him for it. It’d left you feeling just a little flustered and distracted- a dangerous mindset to be in on a job. The early half of the night should’ve been easy. All you’d had to do was lay on the charm thick with the wealthy folks and spread the word that the shiny, new couple was interested in the diamond necklace. Greedy as that lot was, you and Tangerine had known that you two’s feigned interest in the necklace would get it a lot of bidders.

As it turned out, the job hadn’t been so easy, not because the objective had been hard, but because Tangerine’s hands had been all over you all night. Deep down, you’d known it was all part of the appearance you were putting on, but after a while, his touching had started to get to you. The horny part of you had been delighted to have his big, calloused hands on your back and bare shoulders. But the other, more serious side of you had been uncomfortable with his touch. As a woman in the field, you’d rarely been taken seriously and were often only seen as a piece of meat. In that moment you had begun to feel the same. It’d felt like Tangerine was showing you off saying, “look how sexy and wonderful my (fake) wife is”. And as the night had progressed, those two conflicting emotions had come crashing together, leaving you angry and overwhelmed.

The auction had set off without a hitch, and the two of you had braced yourself when the diamond necklace was brought out. Once the bidding war had started, all eyes were on you two, and Tangerine’s hand had casually made its way to your thigh. That, for some reason, had been your breaking point, and you’d hissed under your breath, “Get your hand off my fucking thigh, now.”

Tangerine had only been half paying attention, too focused on the bidding going on, and so he’d only mumbled, “quiet, darling.”

That had really pissed you off and you’d begun to curse at him under your breath. You’d gone to force his hand off your thigh, and that’s when shit had hit the fan. You’d looked down for one second, and then you were on the floor, Tangerine on top of you. There’s been shouts and screams and the loud bangs of gunshots. Bewildered, you’d tried to sit up, but had instantly hissed in pain. Everything had happened so fast, you hadn't noticed the bullet that had grazed your side. The one that, you would later learn, had been aimed right at your chest until Tangerine saved you. It seemed your mission had been leaked, and people had been sent to take you three out. Though you’d only been grazed, your counterpart had forced you to stay in hiding while he’d run off to take care of the last of the men.

When the job had been finished, Tangerine had hauled you up and out to the side of the building where Lemon had been waiting with the car. It was only when you’d driven a few miles away that the shock had finally settled and was replaced with fear, anger, shame, and embarrassment. And instead of dealing with your emotions healthily, you’d lashed out at Tangerine. You and him had gotten into a screaming match- you’d blamed him for invading your space and treating you like a wounded animal and he’d called you negligent and over-emotional. The night hadn’t ended in any reconciliation, and he’d been a thorn in your side ever since.

It seemed like he always popped up at the most inconvenient times, often messing with your missions or just plain pissing you off.

Those past three years of tension culminated into your hatred for him today, and the fact that he’d somehow gotten more handsome since the last time you’d seen him didn’t help either.

(Back to present)

“Oh bloody ‘ell, here we go again,” Lemon curses.

But then, the unexpected happened.

You’re tense, biting words already at the tip of your tongue, ready to argue whatever point Tangerine makes.

Instead, he quietly says, “I wasn’t ever gonna let you die, love.”

Your heart literally stops beating in your chest for a moment, and you swear that his gaze softens a little.

“I was aware of our surroundings the whole time, and also knew you were off your game that night. Your death was never an option. I wasn’t going to allow it.”

You begin to butt in, trying to defend why you were off your game

Tangerine only interrupts you, “And you don’t need to explain to me or anyone why you were off your game. You just gotta trust that we also know what we’re doing. And you gotta trust that I- we- got your back. It’s also why I think you should be in charge of the hostage. It’s safest if Lemon and I work together to protect you while you go for ‘em. Anyhow, you yourself have said that ya work best alone .”

He turns to you and Lemon with a slightly vulnerable look on his face, “No one’s dying on this mission, I swear by it.”

If Tangerine couldn’t already tell that you and Lemon are slightly shocked by his emotional outburst, the silence that follows certainly does. You hold Tangerine’s gaze, his blue eyes piercing into yours, and a series of words seem to be exchanged:

I’m sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

Thank you.

I’ll always protect you.

In your peripheral you see Lemon shift uncomfortably in his seat and you cough, finally breaking eye contact with Tangerine and taking another drag of your cigarette.

Tangerine inhales deeply through his nose and takes a drag too.

Then he says, “Although I know you could take those men out quickly, Viper, I think we’ll work better as a team if Lemon and I can simultaneously take the guards out while you move ahead. We basically have twin telepathy and work like a well-oiled machine. Plus, you can most easily hold your own if you run into anyone on your way to the hostage.”

You wave him off, “No need to flatter me, Tangerine. You two could hold your own just as well.”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” he tells you, “Everyone’s been talking about your job in Peru.”

“Ah my moment of glory,” you say with a smirk and a roll of your eyes, “pretty sure I peaked then.”

Tangerine smiles at you a little, an actual, genuine smile, “What was it actually like, that mission? People tend to always fucking throw things out of proportion.”

“It was a solo mission where I was just supposed to take out the CEO of my client’s rival company and her guards. But it ended up being an ambush. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, of course, but Christ, it was bloody.”

“And how’d you do it all by yourself?”

“With a knife and a gun. See, im pretty good with knives. Can throw ‘em, stab, slice, the likes. I even tried something new with a knife on that mission, out of necessity.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you impatiently as he blows out another puff of smoke, “What was it?”

“Nah, too gory,” you say calmly, taking another drag of your cig.

“Love, I’m a fucking assassin too, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Using a knife, it’s different from a gun, Tangerine. It’s a lot more cruel and I’d rather not tell it to you,” you reply somewhat shyly.

“A hundred other people already know though,” he counters, “and it might change what I think of you.”

You pause, thinking over your next words carefully, “that’s what I’m afraid of. I know we’re in a nasty business, but I’d rather not have my partners think I’m a monster.”

Tangerine puts his cigarette out on the windowsill and looks at you softly, “that’s not what I meant and you know it. It’d only make me respect you more, not less.”

And then, he adds, with a teasing smirk, “not that I could respect you any less than I already do.”

You roll your eyes and suppress a giggle. A fucking giggle.

“Well I’d rather not risk it. And anyways, there’s too much pressure, now that I’ve built it all up.”

“Fucking tease,” he whispers playfully, and kicks your leg lightly under the table.

You hide your blush under the guise of looking down to put out your cigarette. When you look up, you catch Tangerine’s gaze again, and the tension is palpable.

When the waitress suddenly arrives with the food, Lemon vocalizes exactly what you’re thinking, “oh thank god. Jesus Christ.”

You dig-in to whatever the fuck you ordered, using it as a distraction from Tangerine.

*****

The rest of the dinner is quiet and, as promised, Tangerine pays. Lemon leads the way out, and you’re acutely aware of every movement of your body as Tangerine walks behind you. When you get to the door, he grabs it from Lemon before you can, and he’s so close to you his cologne makes you woozy.

When you make it out to the parking lot, Tangerine sends Lemon off to find the car while he escorts you to yours. Though you unlock your car, he opens the door for you. As you get settled, he leans against the roof, and it makes his muscles bulge deliciously.

“You be safe tonight, Viper, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

You nod, “goodnight, Jelly, don’t miss me too much.”

He winks at you, “I won’t, cos I’ll see you in my dreams tonight.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, but internally your stomach does flips.

Tangerine watches as you pull away, a sort of ache in his chest. Lemon pulls up in the car and he gets in, still thinking about you. Before he has a moment to process anything, Lemon smacks him upside the head.

“Ow, fucking shit,” he curses, “what the bloody hell was that for?”

“For being fucking whipped for The Viper, you dumb shit.”