#he/him reader

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the last prayer

bucky barnes x deity reader (he/him, third person)

this is my entry for @elixirfromthestars ‘s cinema writing contest! it’s probably quite an out there prompt but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! (dialogue prompt used: “it’s okay, i’ve got you now”)

synopsis: a decade has passed since the initial capture of james ‘bucky’ barnes, who after so long is finally running out of time to save his humanity. which is why for some reason he makes the absurd choice to pray, and unbeknownst to him, wakes something dark and ancient.

warnings: torture, violence, hints to murder, angst (it’s bucky, very expected). it’s not super religious, reader is like a god the way loki or thor is buttt there’s a few more mechanics to it involving worship and dormancy.

wordcount: 2,869

there is no god.

not within hydra’s snare, not within the depths of torture and brainwashing that has now spanned across years.

hope has long since been abandoned, if there is a hell, this is it, there is surely nowhere worse than this.

so bucky doesn’t know why in the heat of it all, while clutching at the tethers he’s been desperately hanging onto, the fragments of who he was - is, where they try to pull him apart once more, that he suddenly decides to hopelessly pray.

he does it silently in his head, viewing himself opaquely from behind a looking glass as they beckon him to become a machine. it is clear that soon, he will be buried within his own body, that something mechanical will take over to do terrible, terrible things. bucky knows by now that there is no light at the end of this tunnel, only blood, only death, caused by hands that are somehow attached to him.

he isn’t ready for when they finally break him.

there is no answer, the assumption can only be correct as they strap him down tighter into that blasted chair and try to forcibly fry his mind. electricity fizzles and crackles all throughout his head, it will forever burn, even when he’s not in the chair he feels it, a phantom pressure seeping beyond his socket, that is hard to discern if it’s real or false.

the harsh truth echoes all around him, reverberates in his bones.

no one is coming to save bucky barnes.

well, bucky barnes died falling from that train, he died the second hydra sunk their claws in. he is continuously dying as they slowly dissect whatever is left, they are in real time, attempting to convert him into an object, into a machine without autonomy or control.

they are trying to take away what is innately human. his thoughts, his feelings, they will be scrapped and forged into programming, orders and targets.

so yes, it is very obvious by now that no one is coming to rescue him from this.

what he isn’t aware of, is how wrong he actually is. this time bucky has not been ignored, something has noticed the anguish plaguing him, and it listens with rapt attention. it hangs achingly on every word, every cry, that echoes from him.

it is heard by a previously dormant god stirring awake from the depths, for the very first time in centuries. he wakes up nestled between dusty and crumpled ruins, what might’ve been an altar in his name, there are no scriptures or scrolls, it seems that he has been forgotten until now. a deity who slumbered without a single follower or believer for an untold amount of years, suddenly awoken by the most desperate and profoundly broken plea he’d ever heard.

there is barely time to look around, for the environment to sink in. why had his final resting place been here? why was he forgotten? who was his last devotee? a million questions flood his long, awaiting, buzzing body. a fizzle creeps inside his gut the longer he waits, the more he lingers and doesn’t attend to that sharp, hopeless call.

the god doesn’t falter, he brushes any tiredness away, this is his first follower in a long time, and they need him.

the scene that greets him does not aid his protectiveness, it only trebles it. it is no wonder the call had seemed wrenching, what is being done is unfathomable, a contraption which from just one look seems sickening. restraining a man, holding him so tightly in place, and the thing lodged against the eye is horrific.

whatever the plate attached to the right side of the face is, it’s certainly alive, spitting live sparks and light straight against skin. the person in the chair is biting down so hard that he’s surprised the other’s teeth aren’t cracking under the fierce pressure of their jaw locking. despite his caller’s mouth being firmly shut, the screams pouring out are barely muffled, they’re guttural, raw, and they make the god’s stomach twist even more.

it is nothing like he has ever seen before, and he has seen countless of lives, of mortals, their squabbles and war, their arguments and their loves. this surely cannot be the doing of humankind, it is too cruel, how can someone mutilate another in such a way?

but his eyes are not deceiving, there are humans in white coats roaming all around, ignoring the one so obviously in excruciating pain. they are used to it, that realisation alone makes his blood boil.

he cannot withstand it a moment longer, any previous silent acknowledgement to not meddle with mortals unwinds far from him. it doesn’t matter anymore, there is no religion in his name, it is just him and this one small devotee, soaked in pain and suffering.

so when he finally steps out of the shadows, now visible to the human eye, he doesn’t bother with politeness or pleasantries, those were already revoked at this point. there is no forgiveness, gentleness or compassion in the way he squanders the crowd surrounding the caller. it is a mess of screams, thick black clouds swamp the room, none of what occurs can be seen, but it undoubtedly violent, twisted, and permanent.

he just hopes if the soldier in the chair was watching, the smoke obscured it enough. to the god’s horror, the machine is still on, whirring and humming hauntingly. he doesn’t know what it is, what it does, but he strides towards it with panic anyway, and frantically rips it all off, searching for injury with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you now.” he means it, this stranger is just that, a stranger, someone he does not know, yet the urge to take care of the other is overwhelming. “can you speak? what is your name?”

the voice that answers him is gravelly, spoken by a spent and tired man, “m’bucky, my name, it’s…it’s bucky.”

it is clear that bucky is delirious, stuck in a heady haze from whatever just occurred, because it takes him a few seconds to register the mass of people are gone, that the thing speaking to him isn’t human, that he’s being touched by someone who might once again hurt him. it isn’t a surprise that he flinches, and then tries to scramble away, it’s like his entire body gets dunked in total fear.

the god moves back immediately, unable to help the frown overcoming his face, the last thing he wanted was to scare this bucky. thinking quickly, he changes tactics and crouches lower to the ground, akin to approaching a spooked animal, his hulking body looks awkward with trying to appear small. “you called for me. i will not hurt you.”

bucky’s steel eyes flash with confusion, then uncertainty, then anger. “that’s not funny. i don’t know who you are, but just get it over with, don’t fucking play with me.”

a part of him wants to huff, to scowl at the way a mortal is talking to him, but he can’t really find it within himself to care enough about it. this human is unique, an enigma that doesn’t even know itself. instead of frustration, he sinks deeper into patience for this new follower.

slowly, he reaches towards the soldier, watching carefully for any jerky movements or instinctual reactions, when all he finds is wary glances at his hand, he continues, softly pressing the pads of his fingers against bucky’s ear that is lightly bleeding. it is miraculous what gods can do, how much magic they have within just their very fingertips, in the next moment, the trickle of blood is gone.

it looks like there was no injury to begin with. he repeats the action around the man’s head, and even around the shoulder which is deeply scarred and yet seemingly still deeply painful and sore. after the deity is done, he leans back, intently watching bucky’s face.

his brows are furrowed, lips parted, he appears to be a breath away from an argument or accusation. his muscles are pulled taut, ineffably tense, the metal of his left arm creaks. “you’re fucking kidding me. there is a god…and it took you this long?” it comes out flat and the laugh that leaves bucky is humourless, a bark that’s full of venom.

he doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t much to be said. despite the words spoken, there is not just hatred in bucky’s eyes, there’s also relief, but it seems neatly tucked away behind anger. “there’s multiple actually,” he awkwardly stops that sentence at the look on bucky’s face, half disbelieving and the other half pissed off. “i’ve just been dormant.”

the man borders on a scowl, “what do you mean dormant?” there seems to be more movement in his body now, enough so that he squirms to get out the chair, but immediately falls to his knees when he does, the deity is there to catch him, keeping him relatively upright. bucky huffs at the touch, his body still a little slack, the god shudders from the heat radiating off the human and pulls back enough to give him space. its been a long time since he's felt any warmth.

“i haven’t had anyone pray to me for a long time. so, i was dormant, asleep, unable to wake up until someone woke me. you did.” it's a clipped admission, like he is covering up how raw the reality actually is.

there’s a pause, a breath of confusion, “i did?”

he nods back to bucky, “you did." he then hesitantly adds, "i am sorry that i couldn’t come sooner.” there is a guilt that claws at his chest, bubbling up straight to his throat, where he is unable to swallow, “but i’m here now, and no one will hurt you, not while i’m here.”

he guides bucky far away from the chair, and then uses his magic to take them somewhere even farther, absent from the effects of time and humanity. it is extremely void-like, an ocean of ink that spans an unfathomable distance, yet it is not cold. more than anything it is comfortable, peaceful, if you focus hard enough you can hear the distant tweets of birds or the hustle and bustle of brooklyn.

atleast that’s what bucky hears, it’s a place designed to be safe, reminiscent of home. “why save me? could’ve just left me there.”

“i wouldn’t have.” its the truth, “and you needed me. you called for me.”

the skepticism finally washes off bucky’s face, he is probably too tired to keep his guard up, he’s been doing that for years. this place has the sounds of brooklyn, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear his ma’s voice, gentle, coaxing in his ears to rest. he’s been solely burning on reserves that haven’t existed, fighting against a force that was bound to always beat him, until a god decided to fight in his corner, which is still incredibly hard to wrap his muddled head around.

“you should rest.” the god speaks again, gaze flickering to bucky with an emotion the soldier can’t decipher. he settles down on his knees, huge body furling against the ground, and he watches bucky absentmindedly.

there is still that strange expression coated on the god’s face, almost like the start of a goodbye, close to fond and sad.

“where do i slee-“ before bucky can even finish, there is a bed conjured right in front of him, obscenely big compared to the cramped bed he used to sleep in, the apartment in brooklyn he shared with steve, with chipped walls and its slightly stale air. this bed would cost a fortune, he feels odd even stepping towards it. the question of how it appeared lingers on his tongue, but he’s too exhausted to question it, a god is right next to him, he doesn’t have the capacity to think about what a god can’t do.

he still hesitates to clamber into it’s mountainous duvet and circle of fluffy pillows. even though the deity healed parts of him, there is still an awful ache that weighs him down, it’s like any sort of pain is clinging to him, whether it’s imaginary or not. subconsciously it feels like a trick, it can’t be safe can it? he’s not safe from hydra anywhere, they will always find him, he is just property-

“rest.” the god repeats, firmly, but almost faltering. “you’re not needed yet, i’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“hey now-“

bucky doesn’t even have time to question that sentence, the moment his body sags onto the bed, it feels like coming home. there are inklings of steve, his ma, his siblings, brooklyn, everywhere and everyone he has ever loved, he hears them faintly, he smells them distantly. it is enough to lull him to sleep almost instantaneously, so even though he wanted to narrow his eyes and demand what that statement meant, he cannot.

his eyes droop as he melts into the duvet, it is warm, comfortable, such a contrast compared to the agonising frost of cryo. there is a semblance of peace that nestles into his worn bones, it’s the first time in a long time that he can breathe, exist, without an abnormal amount of pain. in this odd bed, in an incomprehensible realm, bucky slips into a soft slumber.

bucky barnes has a larger purpose, he cannot just go back to brooklyn, he is needed, decades in the future. he will wake up to find his best friend was presumed dead and yet was somehow found, buried in a block of ice. somehow him and steve will have survived, and they will find each other again. both of their families will be mostly long gone, as well as everyone they ever knew, but they will have each other.

and bucky barnes will have avoided the reality where he got moulded into a killing machine, ruined beyond comprehension that he forgot who he was entirely. there is still a lot of work to do in this version, the man is still traumatised, may forever be wounded by what was done to him, and there is no guarantee in the future that hydra won’t get him again and finish the job, but atleast for now, he is alright. he is asleep.

the god will watch over, and will also be alone for around 60 years. no one will pray to him, he is quite sure of it, whatever happened with bucky was purely accidental, but he is glad it happened. his larger purpose is making sure bucky gets where he’s needed, and then after that? well, it will likely be dormancy, and this time, permanently. it is something he’ll need to make peace with, not now, but eventually.

after a few years, he momentarily departs from bucky, triple checking that the man is still comfortable and sleeping, and then heads to where he woke up.

it is still abandoned, desolate, it is in all, a sad sight. he meticulously checks everything, each compartment and nook is empty, ransacked. his gut twists with the realisation that they removed him from history, there isn’t a singular scroll or scripture. there is an urge to cry that wells within his chest, he has officially failed in his godhood, but it is fine, it has to be fine.

it may be hours or days that he spends wallowing in those ruins, raking over it what feels like a million times, committing the pathetic structure into memory, as if it might change for the better, or maybe because he won’t see it again. he has no plans to depart from bucky once more, there is no one else to visit, so he leans down, right next barren altar and presses a featherlight kiss to the cracked, carved stone. it is a goodbye for all those he failed, and all those who once followed him.

when he returns, bucky is still sleeping, but he has fidgeted with his metal arm glinting and gleaming. it is still strange to see, he doesn’t know whether to scorn it or admire it on the man knowing the way it got there must’ve been from a deep tragedy. there is a big chance he will never get the opportunity to ask how he got it, and a small pit of sadness swells within him.

despite it all, bucky is a vision, face messily framed by a brown mane, long eyelashes, slightly parted lips and his scratchy stubble. the scars on him are far from grotesque, they paint a picture so vivid he is unsure if he can look away. this man has survived, and in the future some day he will live again.

he has never been quite so attached to a singular mortal before. it could be because it’s the last one he might ever see, but that’s already false. there is something undeniably magnetising about this man, so, he finds himself quite lucky to be the one to watch over him for the next few decades.

it is a privilege to guard bucky barnes, he concludes.

divider creds: @strangergraphics-archive

author's notes (it turned into a huge rant be warned): if im entirely honest its been hard to write what ive wanted to write recently, partly because i felt obligated to cater to a wider audience. i put a lot of pressure on myself because i thought people wouldn't really read if i wrote a reader that was trans or used he/him. i am trying to get out of that mindset, and attempting to write whatever id like to, i think its just the people pleasing side of me being a little too incessant. this however was a step to writing what i wanted, and for that reason im really happy with it.

this is turning into an author’s ramble, if you’re curious on what happens to the god/what the god looks like in my mind, here’s the answer: some of the canon mcu events still did happen, the initial plan for the god was to watch over bucky for around 60 years, but bucky may have been needed by fate sooner. in any case, no matter when bucky wakes up, the god is expecting to go dormant, except i like to think that bucky doesn’t necessarily worship this god, but definitely remembers him, thinks of him in hard times, and in doing so the god stays alive, and dutifully (and excitedly) watches bucky’s life. he very predictably falls in love with bucky, but never takes action. the next time these two actually see each other would be after thanos’ snap, and when bucky blips, he ends up in the god’s realm. i imagine this time that bucky would refuse to sleep, insisting on knowing what’s going on in the world while he technically doesn’t exist anymore.

it would be such an interesting dynamic imo, bucky reuniting with this old god that saved him, knowing that he’s actually not forever dead because otherwise he’d be somewhere different, so he knows sometime in the future the avengers figure out how to undo the snap, and in the meantime he sets it as his goal to befriend this giant god who he only briefly got to speak to in what feels like a past life. i think by the end of it, when bucky gets snapped back, the god promises to visit bucky properly, because after five years of talking and keeping each other company, they’re quite close. this deity loves bucky fiercely, and bucky is probably a little taken aback when he realises, but eventually tries to show reciprocation.

can you imagine the faces of the avengers when one day this GIANT humanoid thing is walking behind bucky like a scary dog and they’re like tf is that??? are we just going to ignore that eldritch being hello???

that brings me to what i picture this god to look like personally, everyone’s interpretations upon reading will be different which i love!! i see him as huge in height, potentially multiple arms, shadow-like in the sense he’s pure black, his skin almost looks like a void, im imagining white eyes (perhaps multiple), and he’s both sharp and soft.

one last thing, i’d like to thank my one mootie for giving me the motivation to start writing more, you know who you are beloved!! (not tagging because i’m not sure if a he/him reader is your cup of tea but i wanted to do an end credits dedication to you mwah mwah 💕!!)

i said one last thing but i lied, im hoping i can maybe do one more entry for this challenge, it’s a great motivator and the prompts are simply amazing!! thank you so much EVERYONE who reads this at any point in time, it means the world to me <3

also song that helped to keep inspiring the fic was “about you” by the 1975

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write a walker x transmasc!reader oneshot? if not, that is fine aswell! - 🗡️

of course I could!! just beware any random shit because I don't know much about being transmasc and I did a lot of research on reddit and tiktok for this for like mannerisms ans shit ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! ; for any regulars on my blog, ik I've enforced the gn reader only thing but I updated my rules list, where I'll only do trans masc/fem readers on request. that doesn't mean request a thing and add one of those solely for a set of he/him or she/her pronouns though. ; post writing robin and this was actually so fun to write LMAO I hope you like this even tho it's so short

WALKER SCOBELL ; the boys

summary ; youre transmasc and properly come out to walker and co + some stupid shit for two parts

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; idk shit about awards shows + imagine middle school auditorium seats for the first part

word count ; 723

masterlist

You, Aryan, Walker, and Leah sit in the audience at the 2025 Emmy Awards, chatting before the cameras turned on to watch the proper show begin. You and Walker sit together, with Aryan and Leah right behind you. The thick, tan, plastic chairs were going to do a number on your ass later. For a million-dollar award show you'd think they would upgrade the seat situation a little bit.

Leah and Aryan sit forward in their seats, holding a conversation with you and Walker, both turned around in yours.

"No, and like, you will not be calling me that, thank you!" You laugh and smile, "If you get your grimy hands on my legal name I will actually throw myself away. I am a man!"

"Wait, what?" Walker questions, eyebrows furrowed. "Legal name?"

"I changed my name" You clarify. "Cause like..." You look yourself up and down, hands following your gaze. "Y'know?"

Walker blinks, pushing his blonde curls away from his face. "Wait... you're trans?"

You nod, a playful yet unbelievable smile on your face. "How did you not know?"

"Even I knew" Leah comments, glancing at Aryan, who nods in agreement.

"I thought it was kinda obvious." You chuckle, seeing his surprised reaction. "I had to keep correcting people about my name like, a million times"

"I never knew you had another name? I thought it was always Y/n!"

"This is going on my story"

"Which one?"

"The Boys"

Walker smiles, his right arm slung over your shoulders as he watches you caption and post the picture you'd just taken with him on your public Snapchat story. It was titled The Boys, meant for you and all your close friends.

He was glad to see that you considered him one of your close friends, but also on such a deep level, though it was just a title to you. He saw the deeper meaning that you didn't. Like an over analyzing reader to a writer. He was happy you also considered yourself a boy, that you could happily parade that around and feel comfortable with your identity. He truly couldn't be more proud to see you happy and smiling in this moment.

You look back up at him, a cheesy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What's that look for?" You ask, a little confused.

"Nothing" He replies, patting your right shoulder blade as he moves his arm around a bit. "We should definitely make a playlist and put it on your story for people to listen to" He suggests with a slight shrug.

"For what?" You ask again, a little puzzled as to where this was going."

"Just cause"

"Okay, Mr.-Won't-Explain-Shit-Scobell"

"You just went on a five minute tangent trying to avoid the word homophobia"

"I was testing the waters with your gaydar, cause apparently it was broken the first time"

"I don't have a gaydar! I'm just, like, here! I'm just a guy"

"Look at this handsome man! Dude, wear purple more, I'm so serious"

"Okay, I see you, Y/n!"

"Fix your tie!"

"I'm trying, I'm still learning! I didn't have this chapter of boyhood"

"Here-" The blonde mumbles, reaching forward to fix your black tie.

You tilt your chin up, giving him easy access to the cloth wrapped around your neck. Leah and Aryan watch, smug looks on their faces.

You send them a glare, trying not to alert Walker to it. He quickly reties your tie, sending you a thumbs up as he backs away. You quickly thank him, a warmth heating up your cheeks, physically unnoticeable.

"Walker, you look like a divorce lawyer." You comment, stuffing your hands in your purple pockets.

The blonde dramatically scoffs, a hand rested on his heart. "You're so mean to me! You're not welcome to the next boys sleepover"

"I don't wanna be a part of that dorky shit anyways"

"Okay, meanie"

"What are you, twelve?"

"...Did you just attempt to quote me?"

You shrug with a side nod.

Leah speaks for you, "Yeah, he did"

"How do you know?"

"He told us that he was gonna try and quote you at least once today" She chuckles.

The three look back at you, lining your jawline with your finger, clearly sucking up your tongue.

"Dude, stop mewing, we have to go out there in like, a minute"

[tange-my-rine]

find yourself (and me) || Tangerine x trans male!reader

Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans.

Request by @random-thoughts-004.

TW: mention of deadname (it's like your codename but like still), fake death, grief, blood, wounds, murder, guns, knives, scars, cursing (it's Tangerine), and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: Thanks for my first request !!! I hope I did it justice! Enjoy this slowburn and kinda angst riddled oneshot. Reader's first codename is Butterfly. Second is Beetle. (You work with Ladybug's agency.) ]]

The first time you met Tangerine was one of your first jobs ever. You remember it so well because well, the twins made it memorable. They made everything memorable, you'd come to realize but not now.

It was a gala, and you were dressed well -fancy even, with hair perfectly in place and shiny fabric cascading.

The job was an easy one, getting your feet wet and whatnot; not that you hadn't wanted the harder ones, it was just like a test run for your agency -seeing if you could do it. Which, with your experience, was kind of ridiculous but you didn't want to get into it right now.

All you needed was information from a man, some sort of billionaire -you weren't honestly sure. The location of someone else, his brother... cousin? You knew his name and that was all that mattered.

You finished your drink, and with a walk that could kill, you made your way to the floor. He was talking to some men (tall with bleached tips, and another one broad shoulders with a mustache), but you simply pushed yourself through.

His eyes, naturally, rested on you, and you used it toward your advantage.

"Hi," you smiled over the rim of your glass, fluttering your eyelashes for good measure, "-do you mind if I interrupt? I've been dying to talk to you all day."

The man, Richard you remembered, smiled smoothly, "'Course, honey. We can always pick up this conversation later."

With a glance toward the men, you pushed your arm into his and began walking away.

You had felt the eyes boring into your back at the time, but you didn't think anything of it. You probably should have, but to be fair this was a test run, was it not?

The man guided you to a balcony, empty with the night sky and stars twinkling. You would've thought it was pretty, if you didn't have an objective.

"Name's Richard," he spoke, still close by your side, "-what's yours, sweetheart?"

Swallowing the bile in your mouth (he really wasn't your type), you smirked -playfully, trailing your fingers onto his upper arm, "I prefer to be a mystery to the men I meet, Richard."

He grinned, it was working well, "I'm not the first then?"

The rest of your conversation was much of the same, low chats about things that didn't really matter -hobbies, jobs, etc. And when you casually mentioned family, it was smooth sailing.

"Got a cousin visiting one of my houses down in Miami, but I haven't seen the rest in years."

You weaseled out the name, and with a cunning smile, went to refill your drink. He'd said he'd have someone do it for you, but you said something about 'clingy already?' and his masculinity came in check.

Your job was done. You were 30 minutes from getting home, out of these heels, and watching your favorite show with the emptiness of your apartment. These kinds of crowds were exhausting, you needed it.

That was until hands shot out of a closet and pulled you in so fast you couldn't even scream-

"What the hell?"

The light was on, thank god, as you took in the man. He was broad shoulders from before, dressed in a fancy suit -three piece, with curly gelled back hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the mustache. He was your type.

You shimmied out of his grip, pushing yourself to the farthest wall, "What are you doing?! You can't just pull women into closets-"

"Who fuckin' sent you?" He uttered out, harsh and brash -british accent, your mind noted.

"Sent me?" You played dumb, "-This is a gala, I was invited, prick."

"Don't fuckin' lie to me," he hissed, pulling out a gun and suddenly, this was all very real.

"Jesus Christ," you raised your hands, "-why the hell does it matter?"

"You're after my hit," he clarified, like it was fact -pushing the gun further into your face.

"Yeah, no," you laughed, "-my job here was information. I literally just talked to him, if you paid any attention to your surroundings-"

"Awfully snappy for someone with a fuckin' gun in your face," he retorted, but you could tell that his frustration had significantly lessened.

"Shoot me then," you egged on, "-lose your cover, and your target, and shoot me."

His mouth flattened, eyes hardening, as the realization slipped over his features; you loved being right.

Gotcha.

With the speed of a snail, he lowered his gun -jaw muscle flexing. You could tell he was pissed that you were right. This was fun, you would've stayed all night to get on his nerves, if this dress didn't make you feel like your skin was peeling off.

In very different circumstances, you would've been glad to be trapped in a closet with him. But, we can't always get what we want, can we?

Without another word, you slipped out of the closet and made your way to the door. And when you got home you scrubbed your skin clean until the flowery scent of your perfume went away (it made you sick), but that was nobody's business but your own.

The second time you met him was very different. Your job was a hit, a CEO of some fancy business -you didn't really care. You'd posed as some meeting for him -after hours, it was actually really simple to get this guy alone.

Anyway, you had just shot a bullet through his head when the door came crashing open -easily, you switched targets.

Instead of some innocent, however, it was the man -still wearing a three piece suit and the same mustache. He wore it well though, so you couldn't blame him.

"Not you again," you groaned.

"What the hell are you doin' 'ere?" He replied eyes scrunched and eyebrow raised.

"My job?" You answered, still pointing the gun at him without hesitation.

He raised his hands, begrudgingly, and looked you over, "You 'ere for a hit?"

You kicked the body at your feet, sarcastically, "Ya think?"

His eyes flicked down to the man, before back up to you, "Lucky for you, I'm just 'ere for a drive. You let me go, we call it even?"

You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side -thinking on it, "Fine, but if I see you again it's fair game."

"Can't fuckin' wait, love," he remarked, and you honestly weren't sure if it was all sarcasm. Huh.

"Butterfly," you said as an introduction.

He furrowed his brows for a moment before a wave of understanding crossed over his face, "Tangerine."

Needless to say, you left that building laughing your ass off.

The next time after that you met Lemon, and then suddenly you were a trio. You switched agencies and were constantly partnered for missions, and even when you weren't, they'd follow you and keep an eye out for you. Even when you told them that you could handle it, they still showed up (Lemon always blamed Tangerine).

You don't know when Tangerine started shifting in your head -from friend to... something else. A scary something else. But you think it started here.

You were in a safe house, one you'd crashed in a lot actually. An apartment in the city with three bedrooms and a fancy kitchen, you could picture it as a home if you thought about it long enough. Couldn't see it without Tangerine and Lemon anymore though.

It was late, and you were watching some late-night reruns of a show you'd never seen -it was some sort of love triangle, and you somehow already had a favorite actually. You couldn't sleep, it was just something in your head -nightmares. You had close calls before and tonight was one of them; you wanted to be alive a little bit longer because of it.

"Hey," the voice interrupted your haze, drawing your attention to your right.

It was Tangerine, he was wearing normal clothes -baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt with his hair ungelled (you were still getting used to it). Blue eyes flickered across you, he could read you really well -you hated it.

He didn't ask if you were okay, didn't have to he knew, just sat by your side on the couch -you offered him some blanket. He took it, closer into your side than he was before -it made your head spin just a little. You figured because you hadn't been so close to someone in so long.

Before you could stop yourself, you started talking, "You ever think about what your life would be like if we didn't do what we do?"

It was sleepy coming out of your mouth, slightly slurred, but still genuine. You always got a little talkative around him, you weren't sure entirely why.

Tangerine deflected, blue eyes fuzzy over your face (you weren't looking at him), "Do you?"

"Yeah," you muttered, low and quiet, "-all the time."

"What would you do?" he asked, and he was genuine -you could always tell when he wanted to listen.

"I think..." you started, trying to decide your words, "- I think I'd want to be married. Is that stupid?"

"'s not stupid, love," he spoke, soft with his gruff sleep voice.

"It'd be nice, I think," you hummed, perhaps saying too much but you didn't care then, "-forever with one person. With this job, you're always alone. Jumping from place to place, partner to partner. I think it'd be nice to have somebody who was always there."

Tangerine didn't say a word.

"The real question is if I'm marriable," you laughed, "-do you think I have enough positive characteristics for someone to marry me, Tan?"

It was kind of a joke, and you expected him to respond that way. He didn't.

"Yeah," he whispered, dead serious, "-I do."

You were taken aback a little bit, something unfurling in your chest that you hadn't quite named yet but you knew it now, "You think so?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer -your head settling on his shoulder without hesitation. You stayed that way for a few moments, breathing in his cologne and shampoo -he smelt so good, how?

"Someone would marry you," he finally responded -something there in his voice but you couldn't name it, "-'d be fuckin' stupid not to."

It was going great, really great. Until it wasn't.

You can't even remember the mission now, but it was one that the twins followed you in on. You convinced them to wait out in the car, you could handle this.

And while you were, your earcon went off -static voice in your ear. You had to strain to hear it, but once you did, you wished you hadn't. It was Maria, your previous handler -you had no idea how she got your connection, actually. It didn't matter then, the voice echoing through your head.

"Butterfly, listen to me, you have to get out of there."

"Maria?" you questioned, slamming a guy's head into a wall, "-'Would love to catch up but I'm a little busy right now-"

"Butterfly, listen. You are in danger."

"Aren't I always?" you laughed, sliding a blade across another guy's neck -he sunk to the floor.

"I got intel on a manhunt for you, the White Death is looking for you. You are not safe, listen to me."

You stalled in place, your heart dropping to your stomach, breathless, "What?"

"He's been surveying your safe house. He knows what job you're on, you have to get out of there now."

One of them rushed you from behind, you promptly elbowed his throat and he let you go -you spun on your heel and shot him square in the head. It was on instinct, your brain was running a thousand miles a minute.

"I can't hide from a guy like him, Maria," you spoke, a sort of shake in your tone, "-he'll find me. He'll find the twins-"

"Listen to me," she repeated, "-we have a plan, but it's not going to be easy."

"Yeah," you sighed, "-okay. I've got nothing to lose, right?"

"There's a car on the westside of the building, you need to head that way and-"

"Maria," you thought of the twins, "-I already have a ride."

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"Jesus," you laughed, "-have a little faith in me-"

"Butterfly, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"I am," you replied, "-I don't know what you're thinking but I'm perfectly capable."

"You, Butterfly, are not making it out of this building alive. Are you listening?"

"I don't-"

"As far as anyone knows, you are dead. As far as the White Death knows, you are dead."

"Oh," you responded, softly, "-this is... I'm... What about the twins?"

"They can't know. The White Death will be surveying them for months after, if they don't play the part-"

"They would," you ushered out, tears burning at the backs of your eyes, "-they... They could not see me for awhile but they would know-"

"I'm sorry, but if you're actually going to stay alive, they can't know. The White Death is smart, he knows how close the three of you are. If they know, he'll know."

"Please," you whispered, you felt like you couldn't breathe, "-without them... You don't know what it'll put them through, Maria, I can't-"

"I'm sorry."

Tears fell before you could stop them, heavy and your throat felt like it was closing up (good god, you couldn't breathe). You stumbled to the window, eyes catching on the car that waited for you by the entrance -if you squinted you could see them, you just wanted to see them again. Even if it was the last time-

"Butterfly, breathe, I need you to focus, okay? For them and you."

"Will you tell them first, before... before anyone else? They deserve to-" your voice cracked, "-They deserve to know first."

"Of course."

You swallowed, gasping for a breath and desperately wiping at your eyes -it felt like you were suffocating. Even still, you righted yourself -for the twins.

"What do you need from me?"

"Leave your phone and something they would know you wouldn't leave behind. They have to... They have to believe it."

With a shaky breath, you threw your phone to the floor -it cracked, but you didn't care. You scanned over yourself, digging into your pockets for something -anything. And then you remembered, the scratching on the fabric -it was your bracelet.

It was a gift from the twins, a simple charm bracelet with one single charm: a butterfly.

You remembered when they gave it to you, you promising to keep it on every day. It was the best gift you'd ever been given-

Hands shaking, you unclasped it -watching as it clattered to the ground, butterfly looking up at you. With another breath, you pulled your knife out of your pocket -three initials carved into the handle. Something in you cracked then as you looked at it, a little shrine to you -this is what they'd see. When they were told you were dead, they'd see this. That was... That was it.

You couldn't stay here anymore.

"Maria," you swallowed, blinking back as many tears as you could, "-where's the car?"

The next 4 years were a lot. You'd finally become yourself, a man, and you lived out in a small little cabin in the woods. You lived next to a teeny-tiny town where everyone knew each other, and you made your life there.

It was a sunny day when a car pulled up to your home -a fancy, expensive one. You knew it well, it dropped you off here all that time ago. Maria.

She smiled when she saw you, skimming over you -she knew about the transition but she hadn't seen you since before, "You look good, happier."

"Thanks," you smiled, leading her into your home. She was well aware of your home, every few years, she visited. Told you things, about the twins -their successes, their failures. They were infamous now. Sometimes it felt like you were there again, you could close your eyes and smell Tangerine's cologne and see Lemon's smile-

"I have some news," Maria started leaning against your countertop -she was always so rigid, all business.

"Yeah?" you smiled, "-What did they do now?"

"The White Death is dead," she spoke -frank and direct.

Something in your shoulders lifted, tears burning the back of your eyes -it had been so long, "Did they...?"

You knew very little about what she told them then, but you do know it had to do with the White Death. You knew they'd try and avenge you one day, it was just in their blood. You hoped they had peace now.

"A few people did," she clarified, "-remember the bullet train I talked about last week?"

"Yeah, you had Ladybug on that one, right?" you asked, you knew of the guy -never met him.

"The twins were there," she hummed, "-Turned out to be planned by him. He was going to kill them all by the end of the line."

"But they survived?" you asked.

"They did," she assured, before pausing for a moment, "-I'm here to ask you something."

You pursed your lips, something catching in your chest, "I can't see them, Maria-"

"That's not-" she started, before clearing her throat, "-I want to ask if you want back in."

"Into... work again?" You asked, curious.

"Yes," she said, laying it all out, "-We have a spot open, you'd be under me. We can start out with small jobs-"

"Isn't this what we planned? All that time ago?"

"We did," Maria confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "-but, you've been here so long. Your plans can change, you know. You could live a normal life."

You thought back to that conversation that late night with Tangerine. You had wanted it then. At the time, you didn't know who you wanted it with but now... you did. And that... that wasn't happening.

But going back to work, that was familiar, that felt normal. You'd be yourself again. You hadn't felt that way fully since that day, but you could achieve it now. Mostly.

"Okay," you responded, "-I'm in."

That is what brought you here in some office building for a drive under the name, Beetle. Well, you weren't alone. A couple of months ago, you'd been at a meeting of the agency -Maria had requested you come. You'd said something a little bit snappy and from the back, a guy with blonde hair, glasses, and a huge smile, had yelled, "I like this guy!"

That was your introduction to Ladybug, and he'd immediately requested to be your partner to Maria. He even threw in some 'pretty-please's, you'd laughed really hard that day -you hadn't in a long time. And with a little hope of some normalcy, you agreed.

Now this was pretty run of the mill, you'd worked with Ladybug to know most of his quirks -like forgetting literally everything as soon as you stepped into the building, and not wanting to kill people on Wednesdays ('My therapist says I need to start taking care of myself, this is me doing that, Beetle.').

"Listen," you turned to him, "-just keep the guy distracted, I will find the drive."

"Hey," he mumbled, eating some kind of finger food, "-Aren't we supposed to be a team? What was it that Maria said-"

"Ladybug," you sighed, he could really annoy you, "-firstly, you know she never says anything in your favor-" he nodded at that in agreement, "-secondly, do you even remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

He paused, squinting his eyes.

"Exactly," you pointed out, "-so I will go find the drive, and you go... mingle."

"I don't wanna mingle," he nearly whined, "-I should've retired after the bullet train."

You froze for a moment, at the mention, before coming back down to earth, "You can do that after we do this, yeah?"

"Oh," he waved his hand with a grin, "-you know I could never leave you, Beetle."

You smiled then, "I know. Now, go, seriously-"

"Yeah, alright," he swatted you, "I'm going-"

With that, you slipped over to the elevator -squeezing past a few stray people and pressing the top floor. Luckily, it was some sort of company party, so every office was unattended. You, yourself, needed the top office, so out of respect for your knees -you'd decided to use the elevator.

You would later wildly regret this decision.

Around the fifth floor, it stopped. You fully prepped yourself for some stray office worker, probably holding a two-liter to bring downstairs and the awkward conversation that would ensue. Instead, it was much, much worse.

Because in front of that door stood Lemon, tips still bleached and dressed in a casual suit -the same kind he always used to wear. Your heart was in your throat, so you casually arranged your tie -trying not to let your voice come out squeaky.

"What floor?" You offered.

He didn't say a word, was just staring for a moment -brown eyes solid on you like he was reading you. You knew you looked different, and even sounded different but you still thought maybe-

"Seventh, thank you," he smiled, sauntering up to your side.

You smiled with a nod, and pressed the button.

The silence was unbearable, and you were certainly going to give Maria an earful when you got back because this. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen.

That was literally your one clause for this work-

"Do I know you?" Lemon asked, looking at you questioningly, "-I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. You're so familiar-"

Your tongue was quicker than your brain, "I'm Carl, Mr. Madison's assistant?"

He pursed his lips, like he was trying to believe it.

"I work on the third floor, mostly," you lied through your teeth -it was just keeping cover, "-maybe you saw me there?"

"Yeah," he settled, still eyeing you weirdly, "-probably."

The rest of the ride was silent, just before he stepped off, "Carl, if ya see an uptight guy in a suit with a mustache, tell 'im I'm on seventh, will ya?"

You instinctively nodded, and as the doors slipped shut -your brain started screaming. Of course, Tangerine was here. God, you could handle Lemon, but-

You pressed your com on, hissing out, "Maria-"

"Yeah, Beetle, what's going on? Everything okay?"

"The twins are here," you spoke -tone wavering, your breaths felt shallow like you weren't getting enough no matter how hard you tried.

"Oh shit."

"Wow," you came back to earth for a moment, "-that's the first time I've heard you lose your cool. Too bad I'm losing my mind-"

"Beetle, listen to me, okay? They don't know who you are. You look different, you sound different."

"I know," you let a breath out, "-I just. I never wanted to see them again. I don't... I don't deserve to."

"Beetle, we've talked about this."

"I know," you took a breath in, "-I know. It's just a lot."

"Is Ladybug there with you?"

"No," you spoke, like it was obvious, "-he can hardly remember his name sometimes, Maria-"

"I'll tell him there's an emergency. Send him up to you."

"But there isn't?" You countered, hand slipping up to run through your hair.

"If the twins are there for the same thing, there's about to be."

With that, you were on the top floor. You kept your eyes peeled -fancy shoes clopping along the tile. You'd always wanted a pair, but now you felt like a prick, honestly.

You figured if Tangerine was anywhere he was here, or shuffled into the party. That was if you had the same motivation.

Which was probably your best bet.

Somehow, you made it to the office in one piece. No peering blue eyes anywhere or accents melting into your ears, you were alone. Huh, maybe you were lucky.

You shuffled through some drawers, scattering paperwork and knocking a tin of paperclips over. It really didn't matter, the man would notice the USB gone anyway so no need for it to look like someone hadn't stolen it. With the drawers, you came up empty-handed.

You pursed your lips, before brushing your fingers along the top shelf of the bookshelf, maybe it was hidden? Nope.

You spun on your toes, before your eyes landed on the laptop. It was literally plugged into his laptop, out in the open.

"Idiots," you mumbled, before pocketing it with the slip of your hand.

Ready to go and fetch Ladybug, your job was done-

"Give me the fuckin' drive," his voice bounced around your head, and you very nearly cracked your neck spinning around to see him.

The first thing was the gun in your face, which was familiar, actually.

You raised your hands in surrender, instinctively muttering, "Jesus Christ."

He stalled for a minute when his eyes met your face like he was processing something -you thought out of anyone he would recognize you. The gun faltered in his hand as his eyebrows crept together into a furrow, confused.

You washed over him too, his hair was slightly longer and he was stronger -you could tell. His mustache was the same, and the suit too, just tighter. But along his neck, right at the collarbone was a nasty scar -it was new, fresh, you could tell. A couple of months at most.

"Look, I'm just Mr. Madison's assistant," you started, your voice shaking but it actually helped you here, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He countered, frustrated again, but there was still something skewed in his face, "-I saw you slip it in your pocket."

"Right," you swallowed, "-glass doors."

He leaned forward, the gun doing the same. And you heard the jingle of his necklace, the one he always wore -something from his childhood he said, but there was another sound, another noise. Before you could think any better, your eyes dipped to it.

The butterfly charm.

Your heart stalled in your chest.

He had the butterfly charm, your butterfly charm, around his neck. The silver was stark against the gold, so you really couldn't have missed it -how long has he been wearing that?

A sob trickled up the back of your throat, but you held it back -blinking away tears.

"Look," you echoed, voice heavy with wear -you wouldn't cry, not now, "-we can work this out."

"I said," he stepped forward, and you could smell his cologne -it was still the same, "-give me the fuckin' drive."

You didn't move.

"Do you want a fuckin' bullet in your head, love?" He asked, his face getting redder, but there was still something in his eyes -he was hesitating. He never hesitates.

Not... not at work. He pulls the trigger and is done but he's hesitating-

Your heart pounding in your chest, you stood your ground -digging your heels in, "Shoot me. You can take it off my corpse, just shoot me."

Tangerine frowned, something in his face flickering between your eyes -you knew he saw you, but you didn't know how he did. Did he think it was just a coincidence? Did he know? Did he think he was hallucinating?

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word -Lemon walked in with a gun pressed to his temple. Your eyes caught on Ladybug's and he visibly seemed to relax at the sight of you breathing.

"For old times sake," he spoke, "-you give me my guy, I give you yours."

"You almost fuckin' killed me," Tangerine seethed through his teeth, "-why should I 'ave any leniency?"

Oh, you thought, that scar was from Ladybug?

"He's got a point 'ere," Lemon replied, rather plainly. You wanted to laugh.

Ladybug paused, "I said I was sorry, I thought we were past that, guys! We killed the White Death together, remember?"

Both of them froze, tense and lips twitching. Was that... Was that because of you?

"Oh, right, sorry," Ladybug recanted, "-sensitive subject."

It was. Something in your chest panged, you'd never thought you'd see it firsthand. You never wanted to-

You stopped the train of thought, hissing to Ladybug, "You are not helping here, you know that?"

"I'm trying my best," he practically whined back, "-you try reasoning with these guys! It's like talking to two brick walls-"

"Ladybug," you chastised.

"Right, sorry," he repeated.

You sighed, leveling to look at them, "Look, I'll give you guys the drive, okay? Just let us go. I'll get him out of here."

Tangerine softened just a smidge -blue eyes matching yours, you may have looked different but your eyes stayed the same. You knew that, and you hoped somewhere in him, he recognized them or they reminded him or anything-

Because if they didn't, you weren't making it out of here alive.

Wordlessly, Tangerine put his gun down and held out his hand. So he did see it.

Ladybug's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, he was clearly not expecting him to relent. But then again, you weren't either.

You pulled it from your pocket, dropping it into his open hand -careful not to touch him, you couldn't do that to yourself.

"Ladybug," you spoke, motioning for him to follow, "-Let's go. We'll tell Maria on the way."

He did as such, giving the gun back to Lemon, and slowly following you out of the door -back turned to the outside, keeping watch.

"Did you-" Tangerine interrupted, stalling the two of you in your path -your heartbeat quickened in your chest, as he turned to look at you, only you, "-Did you know Butterfly?"

"Everyone knows Butterfly," Ladybug responded, "-she's a legend, even for our agency."

He didn't react to his response, only solidly looking at you, Lemon too. You felt like every move you made was outing you, revealing you. That they would realize and hate you and never understand-

"I never knew her personally," you answered, swallowing, "-Just... Just stories."

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked out the door -Ladybug following dutifully behind. You felt their eyes on you every step until you turned back around in the elevator.

You didn't do a job for quite awhile after that. Ladybug, following your lead, took a break too -said something about meditating. You didn't listen, you couldn't.

All you could see was that charm hanging on his necklace -right next to his heart. Did Lemon have your knife? Did they split them?

The next few months were boring, Maria kept calling you and you kept telling her you were okay, you just needed some time. She even sent Ladybug on you a couple of times, but even he could tell you weren't at your best. He just kept recommending things his therapist said, you appreciated it, really, even though it didn't help at all.

When you finally got back to work, Maria sent you as a solo -Ladybug was something you had to limit after a while. All you had to do was get a package before it was delivered, simple.

You didn't know why god seemed to hate you.

You were posed as a delivery truck driver, you even had the truck, the outfit, and the lift. It was something you genuinely enjoyed and everything should've gone perfectly.

It should have been as easy as walking in and walking back out.

That was not the case.

You arrived at the hotel lobby, dressed in the uniform and smiling at the front desk. Politely asking for the boxes you needed, something about office supplies or pillows or something. The hotel had too much of it. All you had to do, was get the package and sneak it in with the others.

"Can I run to your bathroom?" You asked with a smile -you had to get out of the lobby somehow.

"Of course," she smiled, bright and beautiful, "-There's one down that hallway and to the right."

You followed those directions, and then decisively took off into the bathroom -despite it not being a part of the plan. Somewhere in the back of your head, you noted that someone was definitely following you. It was a shadow in the back of your eye, but you still saw it.

So when the door opened behind you, you raised your fist and-

Stopped.

Tangerine stood there, eyes wide as your fist was mere inches from his face. He was wearing a coat, maybe like a trenchcoat, that was brown and gave his whole outfit something entirely different.

"What the hell?" You hissed out, lowering your fist, "-What are you doing here? Following me?"

Tangerine seemed to pause for a moment, before wiping his hand over his mouth, "I'm stayin' 'ere, saw ya out in the lobby. This isn't... It's not a job. I'm not 'ere to... to hurt you."

"Did you just want to say hi?!" You asked, sarcastically -this could not be happening again, "-Last time I saw you, you had a gun pointed at my head. Forgive me for being afraid."

He licked his lips, and you noticed it then, something was very off. He wasn't angry, no, he looked exhausted like he hadn't slept in days; his eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Had he been crying?

"Um," you started, trying to act normal, "-is everything okay...?"

"Tangerine," he finished for you.

"Beetle," you offered in response, before repeating, "-Seriously, is everything okay? Should I call your... your partner?"

"You knew 'er," he interrupted, voice worn.

"Knew who?" You questioned, squeezing your nails into your palm -you knew where this was going.

"Butterfly," he clarified, "-you fuckin' knew 'er, you had to."

"Look, Tangerine," you replied, "-I already told you-"

He interrupted you again, quietly letting out a wet sort of chuckle, "You even say it like 'er."

"Say what?"

"My name," he bit at his lip, gnawing at it, really, "-you say it the exact same way, and I... I fuckin' remember that, so you knew 'er."

You were speechless for a moment, before settling yourself -trying to stay away from this, "Do... Do you need to talk for a minute? Or?"

"Are you 'er brother?" He asked, something heavy in his gaze, "-It's the only solution I can think of, and it's drivin' me fuckin' mad. I have to know-"

"Why would I say I don't know her if I'm her brother?"

"I don't fuckin' know," he breathed out, hands running through his hair, "-are you afraid of the White Death? What he... he did to 'er? He's dead, very dead. You can say you know 'er-"

"But, I don't," you offered, a little weaker.

"You do," he replied simply, "-you fuckin' 'ave to, you look just like 'er. You can't- I can't... Just tell me the truth."

"I'm not her brother," you repeated, it was the only thing you could say.

"Did she ever say anythin' about me? About... About Lemon?" He continued, his voice scratchy and eyes blinking so fast you knew he was holding back tears -your stomach churned.

"Tangerine," you sighed out, "-I don't know what to-"

He interrupted you again, hand pulling on his necklace, the charm, "'s hers, you were starin' at it the other day. 'Was her bracelet, but I think ya know 'at."

"Look," you swallowed, heavily, "-I can't do this now, I'm on a job. We can talk later, though, if you need to."

You ended up finding the box in ten minutes and leaving without another word.

By the time, you were ready for missions again -you were half convinced you wanted to just go back to the cabin, and live your life there. Away from mustaches and feelings and fear, you could enjoy yourself -listen to birds, observe nature, even.

Maria even offered it, after the last trip, she'd smiled at you in the solemn way she did and offered you the home back, the life back.

You thoroughly debated it for a few days but wanted to feel like yourself again and this was the closest you'd get, ever.

You loved him, and this was the closest thing you'd get to him. It was all you had.

Even if he did love you, you were... different now and you couldn't imagine that would be okay with him. You didn't let yourself.

The next time you saw the twins, you decided to embrace it -try and be as close as you could. If they figured it out and left you in the dust, so be it. You wanted them in your life.

It was another solo mission, Ladybug was in one of those 'I'm going to quit and move to Costa Rico' phases of his career and you didn't exactly want to cozy up with anybody else.

Maria understood, and sent you alone.

It was a hit, some guy with a big life insurance policy -his wife hired you, apparently. He was a loner, and didn't go much of anywhere, so you were to stage a robbery and simply kill him in the kerfuffle. Or, at least make it look like that.

The job was so easy that you'd taken to the city afterward -you wanted to live a normal life for a minute, and after it all, you ended up in a bar. A sort of quiet one with a wooden bar and dim lights -the only people in there being men watching football games, and even they did say much of a word.

It was calm, peaceful.

You heard the door jingle, you knew the sound but assumed it was a normal person -sipping on your drink in your booth alone, away from prying eyes. You didn't exactly want any company, not really, but you ended up with some.

The steps of fancy shoes, it was ingrained in your brain, only getting louder -you thought maybe someone was going to sit close to you. Until they abruptly stopped at your side, you promptly turned your head -eyes peering over your drink.

Tangerine stood there in much better shape, blue eyes focused gently onto you (not red and puffy) and hair perfectly gelled back. He was wearing the blue suit that matched his eyes really well -you'd told him it was his best one once.

"Tangerine," you hummed, sipping your drink, "-weird seeing you here."

He paused, eyes flicking over you for a moment -maybe taking in your outfit, just the same as you did. Before muttering out, "'Ere's a safe house nearby, me and Lemon are stayin' 'ere."

You knew that one, the three of you stayed there a couple of times but then again, where hadn't the three of you stayed?

You pondered over that for a moment, before speaking, "You can sit down, you know, I won't bite."

He seemed to tense up.

"Unless you do," you clarified with a bit of a smile, "-in which I retract my statement."

His lips quirked for a second, as he slid into the booth across from you, "'M off the clock."

"Ah," you nodded your head, "-lucky for you, me too."

"Lucky for me?" He asked, it all seemed so natural -you knew he'd ask questions about it later.

"I'm a good fight," you shrugged, "-what can I say?"

"I imagine," he laughed, and something in your chest swirled -you missed that.

He sat in silence for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table, as you messed with the napkin you had. It wasn't uncomfortable, not really, (you didn't think it would ever be) but there was still something hanging over the two of you.

"Look," he said, suddenly, "-about the other day. I'm sorry, I was... I was in a really bad fuckin' place. Just brought up some memories... I didn't mean to-"

"Relax, Tangerine," you sighed, something bubbling up your throat, "-I know what it feels like when you've seen a ghost."

Something in you twisted, tired, and thinking you were lying. God, you were lying to him. But you couldn't chance losing him again, you didn't want him to hate you. Force himself out of your life, his choice.

Not yours. It was selfish, you knew that much.

"They treat ya well?" He asked, and you tilted your head, "-Your agency? I had a friend... switched over, so..."

"Very well," you hummed, "-My handler is... she understands my breaks."

"You had a break?"

"Long time ago," you spoke, vaguely -you couldn't be specific, "-stayed in a cabin, lived normal for awhile."

He leaned back into the booth, something in him curious, you could see it, "How was it?"

"Boring," you decided.

"Yeah," he murmured, "-always thought it fuckin' would be."

You took a leap then, even if the answer would hurt. You wanted to know.

"You ever thought about it?"

"Bein' normal?" He clarified -eyes smooth over your face.

You nodded, finishing your drink -he seemed to notice, and you half thought he'd offer you to get another.

"Yeah," he breathed out -not matching your eyes now, something heavy on his shoulders, "-once a long fuckin' time ago. But... things change."

You wondered if it was because of you -that one night. If he wanted that with you-

He wouldn't anymore, your mind chimed -stinging under your skin, you are different. So is he.

Timing would never be right, it made your lips snap shut anytime you thought of telling him. The idea that he had loved you then, and now... now he wouldn't. That was worse than him hating you for life, just not... just not loving you anymore.

You swallowed, thick -you wanted to know more, but you couldn't just say that, "That they do."

He paused for a moment, before sliding out of the booth, "I 've to go, Lemon's waitin' on me."

You nodded your head, toying with your glass -eyes slinking across the rim, something in you disappointed. Something in you wanted him to stay, but that wasn't going to happen. You couldn't have him.

Not now.

"Beetle," he spoke, slow and measured, "-'S nice talkin' to ya. Maybe we can catch up again when we aren't at each other's fuckin' throats, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, the tips of your mouth turning up just a little, "-I'd be alright with that."

You started seeing Tangerine every once in a while, strange little cafés and dimly lit bars. You didn't know how he always ended up in the area with you or close by, but it felt familiar. Like when the two of them would follow you into jobs, even when you said you'd be fine because they wanted you to be okay. Just in case. You supposed now that they actually had something to worry about.

That led you to now, you laid on the tile of a building -head pounding and the lights blinding. You had successfully cleared it and killed your hit, but someone had snuck up on you -gun drawn, they took a cheap shot.

"Maria," you breathed out, "-Maria, come in."

"Beetle? Everything alright?"

"They got a cheap shot in-" you hummed, "-I think in my chest? It hurts to breathe-"

"Okay, alright. I'll see who's around you, okay?"

"I think I can walk-"

"Don't move, keep your hands on the wound. What floor are you on?"

"Second," you faltered out a breath -a sting in your lungs, even still you shifted putting all your weight on your hands, "-shit, never get used to that."

"Never will."

You laughed, leaning your head back down against the tile -it was cold against your skin. You felt like you were burning alive, so it was actually a little refreshing.

The lights above you hurt your eyes, but it was easier to breathe this way. Inhale, exhale -a sting, inhale, exhale -a sting.

You imagined for a second this was years ago, that you were actually dying then. The twins would come rushing in, burst through the doors, and Lemon would be darting all over you -trying to figure it out. And Tangerine... Tangerine would grab your face and keep you awake -soft words but every once in a while shaking you to keep you awake. You wouldn't have been able to die then, not with them there -trying to help. You supposed you could die now, bleed out on a tile floor alone or with someone you didn't even know.

This dream of it being Tangerine and Lemon, that was something you could live for -you could almost see it in your head.

And then you heard it, a door busting open and fancy shoes clattering down the hallway -like yours that made you feel like a prick. You wondered if you got the idea of them from Tangerine, he surely owned so many pairs-

"Shit," there was a voice then, and your eyes snapped to the source.

Oh, I'm definitely hallucinating.

Tangerine stood over you before falling to his knees, mumbling -frustrated, "I just fuckin' knew it was you."

"Am I..." you spoke, breathlessly, "-Am I hallucinating?"

"What do you think I am? A fuckin' angel?" Something in your mind answered yes, "-Hate to break it to you, love, but it's just me."

"How the hell were you around here?"

"A job," he said, a little too quickly -it was suspicious.

"Lying-" you slurred out, "-I can tell you're lying."

Tangerine didn't say anything in response, ignoring it, "'S your chest, yeah?"

"Yeah," you hummed, "-where I'm holding."

"Alright," he breathed out, "-alright. Don't stop holdin' it, okay? Keep your hand 'ere."

"How am I gonna move?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can't give me an inch of fuckin' trust, can ya?"

"Sure, I can," you breathed out, flinching slightly, "-just tell me your plan."

He let out a chuckle, before without warning -slipping his arms under your knees and back. The movement jostled you a little and it hurt -you hissed out.

"Sorry, love," he echoed out, softer than you expected, "-'s the only way to get ya out of 'ere."

"I know," you exhaled, "-I know. Keep going."

It felt like you hadn't even blinked before he was pattering out of the building -he was going so fast. Your head was spinning now, but you were still conscious.

"Shit," you heard Lemon, as Tangerine slipped you into the backseat, laying you across the seats -head first, "-a bullet?"

"Fucking cheap shot," you breathed out, "-Killed a whole building full of people and some asshole came up behind me and shot me-"

Lemon seemed to laugh slightly at your frustration; it made you feel a little lighter.

Tangerine shut the door and you waited for him to slip into the passenger seat. You were getting tired, you just wanted to bandage it up and go to whatever hotel was open.

Instead, Tangerine slipped into the side with your head -carefully lifting it and setting you back down onto his lap. You froze -his cologne surrounding your head so much it made you woozy. Why had he done that?

"Stay awake, yeah?" He spoke, breaths raggedy -he really must've been going fast, "Beetle, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," you swallowed, the smooth cushion of his suit pants was tempting, but the situation you currently were in kept you awake. Your heart was pounding, your brain spinning, you were so close.

You'd been closer, but that was over 4 years ago. Even further when his hands made their way to your face and hair -trying to keep you awake. It worked very, very well.

Had he ever held your face before?

Something in you said no, but it could've happened. You were also so close and any time you got injured he'd always wanted to see it for himself. He usually refused to leave until he took care of it himself, with gentle hands. Whose to say you hadn't gotten a cut on your face?

Why did it feel so different now?

You looked up at him, just for a spare second -you saw his hand run through his hair, unveiling the curls by the second. You'd always liked his curls, when he'd shown you his natural hair -it was all soft and bouncy. It wasn't good for his image, you totally understood.

He's nervous, your mind chimed, does he care about you like this too?

You slapped away the thought and decidedly started staring up at the plush ceiling -this car was definitely expensive, you knew that much. The cushion on the seats, the detailing, the roof, the speed-

This thing had to be stolen.

"Ya alright, love?"

You swallowed and met his eyes, big blue blinking down at you and you could see it, the concern. Since when was he concerned for you? This you? Something had changed at some point and you didn't even notice.

"I've been shot," you retorted, obviously, "-I'm currently bleeding out on your fancy seats."

"That's not-" he huffed out, pinching the bridge of his nose -you couldn't hold back the grin on your lips.

Lemon laughed from the front, "'Give 'im a real run for his money, you know 'at, Beetle?"

"I try my best."

Lemon laughed again, and something in your chest felt lighter -you had missed them, so much. All those years at that fucking cabin, you had missed out on them, on knowing them, watching them, being with them.

God, you regretted everything then, but it was for the best. It kept them safe.

"Seriously," his voice was lower now but still so pointed, "-are you alright?"

You blinked away the fog of tears in your eyes, not now, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."

The ride was short after that, it was wordless. Even though you think Tangerine wanted to say more, he didn't pry. Which you thought was very strange because he's Tangerine (he prods and pokes until you're set on murdering him) but you were literally bleeding out, so maybe it was courtesy.

You didn't have the heart to think it was anything else.

The twins brought you up the stairs, each taking a shoulder, and although it wasn't as dizzying as before when Tangerine had physically held you... It still was overwhelming.

These guys were like your family. You hadn't been this close to them in years.

"Alright, I'm assumin' you got the wounds?" Lemon asked, directed at Tangerine.

With a succinct nod, Lemon spun back around in the doorway -talking as he walked out, "'M off to get some food, don't bite each other's heads off, yeah? I'd hate to clean up the mess, personally-"

And then he was gone. You were currently sitting on a stool, hand still pressed intently into your chest, as Tangerine gathered up what medical supplies they had. Which was a lot, actually.

You spoke before you could think about it, "You know I can do this myself, right?"

"God, you've got quite the fuckin' head, don't ya?"

"You're one to talk," you replied.

Tangerine pursed his lips, in a way you could tell he was hiding a smile, before his eyes drifted to the ground for a moment. He didn't respond immediately, thinking on it.

And even when he brought everything onto the counter, he didn't say anything. It wasn't until he stood in front of you, nearly in between your legs as you sat on the stool.

"Just let me help you, yeah?"

Your eyes flickered over him, trying to read him but all you could get was -please. Almost like a desperation to help you, like he'd wanted to do this not just offering it-

"Yeah, okay," you responded softly.

"Shirt off," he quickly spoke -right to business, reaching over to the counter to grab what he needed.

You swallowed, you still weren't used to that. Taking your shirt off in front of people, off the top of your head you couldn't think of anyone who had seen your scars. Your top surgery scars. They were very obvious, right in the middle of your chest, and unavoidable. Did you want him to see them?

"Can't I just..." you started, "-unbutton the bottom?"

Tangerine turned back to you then, furrowing his eyebrows, "The gunshots in the middle of your chest, love, it'd be fuckin' half on anyway. Just take it off."

You frowned.

"No judgment here," he put his hands in the air, "-I couldn't care fuckin' less what your chest looks like, personally."

You licked your teeth and swallowed, before unbuttoning the dress shirt, slowly, but keeping it solidly on your shoulders. Kind of like how the men in cologne ads looked, with their opened-up shirts and the epitome of masculinity-

He didn't say a word, but you saw his eyes flicker over them -almost like he was noting it in his head before he switched his attention to the wound. He promptly dabbed it with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and you nearly bit through your lip.

"Warn a guy, will you?"

Tangerine didn't even look up, "If that hurt, you're gonna have a fuckin' problem later, love."

"I've been stitched up before," you clarified, "-I'm not a newbie."

"Might as well be, yeah?" He hummed, tossing the cotton ball in the trash -flawlessly making it in (how does he even exist?), "-With your break."

"How do you know it was a long one?"

"I've never fuckin' heard of you," Tangerine explained, "-Ladybug's never heard of you and you're a part of his agency-" he dabbed another one over your wound, "-Must've been a long break."

He had a good point.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" You asked, quirking a brow, "-Plus, there are other agencies, how do you know I didn't come from one of them?"

"You're too good to 'ave," he replied, simply.

You fell silent, something stirring in your stomach -was that the first time he'd ever complimented you? Beetle you? Huh.

"Wow," you hummed, "-you can be nice. Who knew?"

"You're soundin' like fuckin' Lemon now," he groaned, before taking the needle from the counter.

"Lemon's smart then," you diverted your eyes -never could stand looking at being stitched up.

Tangerine rolled his eyes, and you looked back up to the ceiling -a smile ghosting onto your lips. Not that you'd ever let him see.

It went fairly smoothly, his hands made quick work of it and even quicker with the wound on your back (the bullet had gone right through your chest, luckily not hitting anything). Nothing happened, you were worried about nothing. He was Tangerine-

Just as you had started buttoning your shirt back up (you started from the bottom to the top), Tangerine froze.

Without a word, he walked closer to you -tilting your chin up with the ease of a finger and looking under it on your chest. You froze, his skin on yours was still something you couldn't deal with.

"Where'd you get 'at one?"

Fuck.

You knew what he was talking about immediately. It was a scar, just above your heart. You'd been stabbed on the job, and Lemon had fucked up your stitches so it had healed weird -came out curved somehow.

And then Tangerine was so paranoid that you showed him because he needed to know you were okay -it was so close to your heart.

"You almost fuckin' died, Butterfly. One inch down and..."

It was a one-of-a-kind scar. At the time, it didn't matter but now? You knew Tangerine could recognize that scar anywhere.

"Tangerine," you spoke out, measured. You tried to keep your voice calm, maybe you could save this-

He stepped back, eyes making contact with yours -they darted between them for a moment and then back to the scar, and then to your top surgery scars. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and everything in your body was screaming-

"Tangerine, listen-"

That was enough, something in him stiffened and he grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.

"Tangerine," you echoed out, but you knew it was no use now.

He didn't say a word, slipping it on and with the fastest steps you'd ever seen in your life, he disappeared out the door and slammed it shut.

The walls shook after.

You swallowed dryly, tears pricking at your eyes -this was never supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen-

Your hand was on your com before you could even think about it, breaths shuddering out of your chest -sobs breaking in the back of your throat. You tried to stop it, hold it all back-

"Beetle? Hello? I see your com is on, everything alright?"

"They know," you whispered, nearly silent -tears streaming down your face.

"Who knows what?"

"The twins, they were... they were the ones nearby," you started, and your voice cracked, "-Tangerine offered to stitch me up and I have a scar-"

"Beetle, slow down. I can't understand you."

"They know who I am, Maria," you breathed out, tears catching in your throat, "-Tangerine knows and he's going to tell Lemon, and I don't know what the hell to do-"

"Beetle, breathe."

"He left," you echoed out, and you were crying -god it had been so long since you cried, "-he left, Maria. He didn't even say anything-"

"It's a lot to take in. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's gone," you swallowed, "-I know it, Maria."

"You know him. Do you really think he's gone?"

You thought back to the pendant on his necklace -the butterfly, your butterfly.

"I don't..." you started, "-I don't know."

"Just wait, if nobody comes back... Give me a call, alright? I'll send a car your way."

So, you did.

You waited, buttoned your shirt back up, tried to wash the stain, and waited. You ended up flicking through TV shows, and smushed into the couch, waiting. Even thought about ordering your own food, but a part of you wanted to be sure that Lemon wasn't coming back.

After about two hours of waiting, you swallowed down the tears -eyes all red and puffy, and started gathering up your stuff. You accepted it now, you'd never see them again.

It was your decision, you would regret it for as long as you lived. Something in your chest heavy and exhausted, you readied yourself to call Maria back.

Just as your finger was about to touch the com, there was a jingle of some keys outside the door. You froze in place, slipping on one of your shoes without another thought -ready to leave. You knew he'd ask you.

The door slowly opened, and Tangerine peered inside -he looked worse for wear and you think if you focused hard enough you could see blood on his knuckles. You wouldn't ask, not now.

His blue eyes flicked over you, to your shoes and your coat all gathered up on your arms, he gnawed at his lip for a moment.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?

It was all harsh edges and sharp points, it made you bring up your own barriers.

"I'm leaving," you answered, straightening your posture and putting on your other shoe.

Tangerine didn't move for a moment, as you slowly made your way to the door -footsteps echoing in the heaviest silence you'd ever experienced in your life.

Just before you got there, Tangerine stepped in front of the door -something in his eyes heavy.

"Tangerine," you sighed, "-let me go."

"No," he answered simply, eyes meeting yours and you saw now, they were red and puffy too, "-hell no."

"Look, I really don't want to-" you started before briefly rubbing your temples, "-you want me to leave, just let me leave."

"Who the fuck said 'at?"

You tilted your head.

"Why would I want you to leave?" He furrowed his eyebrows, still angry, "-You... I just got you back, why the fuck would I want you to leave?"

"I lied to you, Tan," you breathed out, and something caught in your throat, "-I lied to you for years."

"You're fuckin' alive-" Tangerine exhaled, chuckling a little in disbelief, "-I have so many questions, yeah? That is far, so fuckin' far, from wantin' you to leave."

"Tangerine," you spoke, voice shaky, you just wanted to go. It would be so much easier if you just left-

He paused for a second, "Are you fuckin' listenin' to me?"

"I am," you replied, tears rising to the backs of your eyes, "-I just can't..."

"Love," he grabbed your wrist, something softer, gentler, "-Love, look at me, please."

You swallowed your tears and with a big breath, you looked at him. His eyes were always so very blue, but something about them then was vulnerable. Broken wide open, Tangerine sat in front of you.

"I want ya to stay, yeah?" He breathed out, wiping over his mouth, "-I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, trying so hard not to cry -you shouldn't be the one crying, "Okay."

"Now," he sighed out, a little lighter, "-fuckin' sit down, you shouldn't aggravate the wound."

You wordlessly sat down on the far edge of the couch, closest to the door. Your hands were shaking, so you laid them flat on your lap -trying to calm down.

He wants you to stay.

"You said-" he started, his voice getting caught up in his mouth, "-You said you were in a cabin, yeah? Where?"

You opened your mouth, confused, "Why does that matter? You have... I lied to you for years and that’s your first question?"

He was standing up, pacing, and then suddenly stopped. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment blinking.

"You know, when they told us you were... dead," he echoed out -something caught in his throat, "-they didn't have a body? All we had was-"

His hand went to his necklace putting the pendant in between his fingers, "All we had was your things, there was no fuckin' body-"

"What does this have to do with-"

"I looked for you," he finally said, "-everywhere I went for a job, I fuckin' looked for you. Because if there wasn't a body, you could still be-"

He fell silent, for a moment -swallowing, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't believe it, "...alive."

"So," he continued, clearing his throat, "-I want to know where the fuck you were. 'At fair?"

Your mouth snapped shut - he looked for you? For how long? That wasn't important now though.

"Alaska," you answered, wiping at your eyes, "-small town, in the middle of nowhere. I had... I had an alias."

"Fuckin' Alaska," he muttered, under his breath.

"It was cold all the time," you added -a bit awkwardly, "-snowed nearly everyday."

Tangerine scanned over your face, maybe like he was trying to imagine you there, alone in the cabin. Or maybe, you out in the snow.

"That day..." he started slow, "-did you fight it? When you were told what you... what you had to do, did you fight it?"

"What are you asking?"

"Did you even think about telling us? Or, or-" he swallowed and his voice was husky and his eyes were bleary, "-coming back to us?"

"Tangerine," you echoed out, emotionless -trying to reign it in, "-I didn't have a choice. You know that."

"I know," he agreed, "-but did you fuckin' try?"

"You think-" you exhaled out, tears gathering in your eyes now, "-You think I didn't try to say goodbye? That I didn't beg Maria to change her mind? That I didn't tell her you guys would keep the secret-"

"Beetle-"

"-just so I could stay?"

"Beetle, I didn't..."

"I did," you swallowed, "-I did beg. It didn't work. If I... If you would've known, we both would've been in too much danger. I couldn't risk it."

"The White Death, yeah?" He clarified, and he was closer to you then he was before. His fingers kept twitching like he wanted to do something.

"He was after me," you hummed, "-knew where I was, where you were, where Lemon was."

"I just-" he started, "-I don't fuckin' get why... after you- After the White Death was killed, why didn't you- why didn't you come back? Tell us?"

"It's... complicated."

"Why?" he stressed out, "Why was it complicated? You were alive, and I don't know about Lemon, but, personally, I would've loved to fuckin' know 'at."

"Tangerine," you started, "-I'm different now, and you guys... you grieved me. How was I supposed to come back from that?"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck 'at you're a man," he interrupted, "-I just wish you would've felt comfortable enough to tell me- tell us earlier."

"Tangerine," you could feel the tears in your eyes.

"And we grieved you, yeah, but-" he explained, messing with his hands for a moment, "-knowing you're alive? That you were fuckin' breathin'? The grieving... It wouldn't 'ave fuckin' mattered, love."

"It would have," you stopped him, "-you thought I was dead-"

"Love," he suddenly sat by your side, gently holding your wrists in place, "-listen to me for once, yeah?"

You nodded, wordlessly, tears slipping down your face, this was guilt you were holding onto for years.

Without hesitating, Tangerine gently started swiping them away with his thumbs, "I thought I was in a world without fuckin' you. Lovely, annoying, beautiful fuckin' you."

You opened your mouth, but he merely continued.

"I couldn't imagine my life without ya in it, and then suddenly it was the fuckin' life I was livin'," he sighed out, eyes matching yours and hands cradling your jaw, "-you being alive changes fuckin' everythin'."

"Why?" You offered, eyes scattering between his -looking for an answer.

He paused for a moment, before dropping his hands, pushing his hair back for a moment, and swallowing. It was like he was readying himself.

"Lemon used to tell me that I was stupid," he finally said.

"Doesn't he always?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

He smiled a little bit, before grabbing one of your hands with his and fidgeting with your fingers -kind of like he just needed to be close to you, "Right, yeah. But this... He told me 'at one day I would regret not tellin' you."

"Telling me what?"

"When you... when you died, I realized the idiot was fuckin' right," he hummed out, a sob catching in his throat but he just kept talking, "-and then, I met a fuckin' self-righteous bloke who had the nerve to dare me to shoot 'im. Looked me right in the eyes."

"Tangerine-"

"And then the guy kept showin' up, and I kept seein' 'im and it was the always same back and forth," he continued, tracing along the creases of your palm, "-but at some point I started thinkin' that I wouldn't shoot 'im, even if he asked."

You laughed.

A smile flickered across his face at the noise, but he kept his eyes downward, "And then, I see 'im bloody and hurtin'. And I think back to the first time, when I didn't say it and if now I wasn't gonna be fuckin' able to-"

You raised an eyebrow.

"And then they dared to be the same fuckin' person."

"Tangerine," you asked, "-what the hell are you talking about?"

It was then that he finally looked up, and then you realized how close his face was to yours. You feel the puffs of his breath against your skin, and it made your head fuzzy. Your thoughts became blurry and all you could see was him-

Tangerine. Tangerine. Tangerine-

"I really don't give a fuck 'at you're a man," he repeated, blue eyes laser focused on yours.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell does that-"

His eyes dipped down to your lips.

Oh.

"Really?"

"Not a flyin' fuck," he echoed out.

You smiled, before letting your own eyes drift -just for a second. It was like a confirmation, a consent.

Before you could say another word, his hands reached up to grab your face and bring your lips to his. It was all force, desperate, like you were oxygen and he just wanted to breathe-

But somehow still gentle, holding you -fingers rubbing along your face like he was reminding himself you were there. That you were alive. That you were sitting there beside him breathing. It made sense now, all of it.

The grieving didn't matter because you were alive.

He finally separated, keeping his forehead on yours for a split second -staring into your eyes and huffing out breaths.

He kept you there, until it felt like you couldn't breathe -he stole all of it away.

When there was a knock on the door.

Then, there was another knock.

He groaned, throwing his head back -decidedly not letting you go.

"What do you fuckin' want, Lemon?"

"No way to treat someone who got you food," he chastised, "-you 'ave the keys, let me in."

"Come back in ten minutes," Tangerine answered -eyes solidly on yours, you felt frozen in your seat.

"The food's gonna get cold, mate," Lemon retorted, "-don't ya want it warm? I worked hard to get it, ya know? The closest restaurant was like a fuckin' block away-"

"Ten minutes," Tangerine repeated.

"I'm not fuckin' leaving," Lemon started again, "-it's cold out 'ere. You gonna leave your brother out in the fuckin' cold-"

"Fuckin' go, Lemon," Tangerine groaned out.

"Fine," he breathed out, "-keep snoggin', but don't fuckin' complain if I eat some of your food."

Yeah, you really missed this.

"We won't," you chimed in with a smile.

Tangerine smiled at you like you held the sun.

[joemama-2]

gojo is met with a small slap to his face. one that wakes him up from his stupor, head swiveling around with barely open eyes. his first instinct is to grab for you, but the only thing he feels is a tiny, plump stomach.

when he opens his eyes wider, his infant daughter is laid next to him, sucking on her favorite binkie. her tiny hand is raised in the air.

you’re laying on the other side of her, passed out and face barely visible from beneath the pillow. he sighs and turns his body towards his daughter. “why are you hitting daddy, hm?” he asks, voice groggy and quiet so he won’t wake you. he knows how you are when you get woken up. “am i snoring again?”

his daughter simply blinks.

he can’t help but smile, pulling her close and laying her on his chest. “fine, fine. i’ll be quiet. it’s too late for you though, little munchkin. go to sleep so daddy can put you to bed.”

his daughter nuzzles her small face into his neck, causing her father to sigh wistfully. he feels himself going back to dreamland, face relaxing.

not even two minutes later, he’s snoring like a hog.

he’s awoken by another smack, harder this time.

[sansquip]

fuck.

[lovelyghst]

simon’s not a virgin by any means, but the first time he sinks his thick cock into your tight, sweet little cunt, he absolutely loses it.

the sugary tone in which you gave him permission to fuck you after he asked, begged you so nicely, like he was even deserving of it.

how he has to bite down on the rugged knuckle of his fist when he presses the head of his cock to your soaked cunny, failing to stifle down his groans but already too fucked-out to care whatsoever once he bottoms out (or at least as much of his cock he’s able to fit in).

the way his name spills from your puffy lips when he finally starts to move, just barely an inch in and out with each ‘thrust’ because you’re just so fucking warm and welcoming and he doesn’t want to separate from you for even a split moment.

how your fingertips lightly graze between the divots of his flexed, pronounced abs, nails raking over his skin with a softness no one has ever shown him. he’s turning greedy for you; needs more and more.

you turn dumb in a matter of seconds. so dumb, in fact, you haven’t even noticed he finished inside you the instant his cock was fully sheathed within your tummy, and how he’s already coaxing out his second load to join the first one fucked deep into your womb.

and you can’t even blame him, considering he was fucked utterly stupid from the moment he set eyes on you :(

[icepip]

ughh imagine having a heavy make out session with yuta and sitting on his lap and he just can't seem to get enough of you, constantly squeezing and gripping at your hips, pulling you closer and closer because he's so desperate for you. moaning and licking into your mouth, only pulling away a hair's breadth to fill his lungs with air.

there's this need that flows through both your veins and you just want each other. it's dumb and irresponsible — but fuck, you really don't want to leave yuta's lap.

you're pawing at his bulge beneath you, shaky hands trying to get it out, and he doesn't stop you. raising his hips to help you, yuta gasps when your hands wraps around his shaft. his head falls back and for the first time, you can breathe.

he's hot and heavy in your hand, velvety smooth and already beginning to leak, and you want so bad.

"please, yuta," you mumble against his jaw, rubbing your covered cunt against his cock. "i need you."

"c-condom." it's choked out, like it pains him to say. like you could've forgotten about it.

"just the tip. you can, you can just pull out."

yuta whines, a sound high in his throat, his dick jumping in your hand. he shouldn't. he couldn't possibly stop himself from losing control. you know this more than anyone else, but you want.

you push your shorts and panties to the side, pressing his tip to your mound. it's dangerous and far too tempting for both of you and it's no surprise when his cockhead pushes into your pussy.

[laikabu]

save me mother and child imagery save me thistle’s innate desire for a family save me (peep the mother and child painting on the first pic)

[loveanddeepdick]

ᯓ★ babydaddy!toji would never admit that he got jealous when you were around guys your age. he’d never get insecure, no, but he felt a deep pang of jealously in his chest. like he prayed that he had been born later so he could be more similar to you. your relationship with him was complicated. you were dating on and off but finally just settled as friends with benefits (who took care of a ridiculously cute baby together).

your parents often asked you why you dated a guy who was less than a decade away from being your father. your friends did the same too, not seeing the appeal in being with a “broke old man”. you never understood why toji just scoffed and looked away. it was out of character since he’d usually just cuss people out.

babydaddy!toji who let his jealousy show a little too much when you ran into an old high school friend of yours while you were out shopping. toji had to piss and you were waiting outside when he came up to you. shit, you didn’t even recognize him at first and the conversation was merely small talk but when toji came out, he had his arm around your waist, his hands coming down a little too low.

“this is your uh.. boyfriend, yeah?”, you friend asked, his eyes immediately going to the hand on your waist. most people just assumed you were single again.

“you could say that..”, you sheepishly replied, trying to swat toji’s hand away.

“tsk why’re you acting like i didn’t just dick you down and you didn’t carry my baby, ma? course you’re mine”, toji scoffed, looking away.

your eyes dart from your friend’s to his and it finally clicked. he was jealous. with a small smile, you excused yourself and tugged on the hem of toji’s shirt, signaling him to walk out to his car. the walk there was filled with short protests from him and silence from you. of course, he didn’t mean it, he loved this kind of attention from you. as you got to his car you rummaged through his pants pocket to grab his keys—not being shy to graze his dick—and unlocked the car.

babydaddy!toji who’d never admit he was jealous, even when you two were making out in the middle of a mall parking lot with your hand on his crotch.

“admit it, you still—ah, you still love me and you were jealous”

“course i fuckin love you—fuck yeah,keep your hand there—we’re long over, ma. didn’t you say we were just friends with benefits?”

“you’re avoiding the question, toji”

he had his hands all over you at this point, tugging at your shirt but you pulled away and furrowed your eyebrows.

“admit that you were jealous, old perv”

“fuck—fine. i was jealous. i hate seeing you with men younger than me. makes me feel old. happy now, doll?”, he leaned in again, grabbing your face as you kissed back with a smirk.

“yeah, i’m elated”, you grinned, trailing your hand up to play with his dark happy trail and dipping it in his sweatpants.

“don’t be a fuckin brat, ma. m’gonna give you a second snotty little shit if you keep this up”, toji growled, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone

“yeah?“, you smirked, tangling your fingers in his hair as you guided him down, “keep that promise and maybe we’ll get married”

babydaddy!toji who was definitely going to take you in the backseat for hours. fuck driving home.

babydaddy!toji who nearly died at the spot from the news of you being pregnant not with just one baby, but twins. you ended the year with a ring and a freshly painted nursery.

[crrtite]

cw: boyfriend price, independent and a tad bit stubborn reader, this man loves you, mentions of marriage

Thinking about your boyfriend John who just wants to make your life easier even though you insist you can do things yourself. Very much has the “I know you’ve got it, but let me take care of you” mindset.

A real man.

Insists on changing your oil for you, filling up your washer fluid, checking your tires. He wants his baby safe, after all. Takes your car every Sunday and fills up your gas, getting teasingly annoyed with you when he sees it close to full, knowing you went and got it on your own.

Sends you money for groceries, nails, hair, little trinkets and hobbies that you have. He rolls his eyes when you send it back, claiming “I can pay for my maintenance myself, John. Save your money.”

He decides that he has to be a little… stern with you. He loves that you’re independent, but he’s your man, and he wants to provide for you even a little bit. He’s gonna put his foot down, coerce you to relax and let him take the reins a bit.

Starts to gently shove you out of the way when you’re out shopping, giving you that smile that softens you up even when you’re mad at him. Starts keeping track of your groceries and stocking them up, so you have no choice but to use what he bought.

Pays for your appointments in advance, contacting the people you get your services from and putting his card on file. You can’t pay if he beats you to it.

Breaks you down until you finally accept his spoiling willingly, assuring you he wants to spend his money on you and keep you well cared for.

Eventually starts to hint that when he puts a rock on your finger, working is optional for you. He’s willing to hand over his cards and put your name on his account, what’s his is yours and what’s yours is yours, of course.

Type of man to chuckle and warmly thank you when you buy him a little sweet treat after he’s pulled out his bank card to take you on a little shopping trip, insisting you split it.

He wants you comfortable and taken care of, so just let him, ‘cause that’s what he’s there for.

[theghostinyourwalls]

More of my favorite arts

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[neveroceanblvd]

he might be the love of my life

[tange-my-rine]

love, love, love || tangerine × he/him! reader

Part 2 of find yourself (and me).

Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans. (PART 2)

TW: just murder mention (no descriptions of violence or anything), cursing (it's Tangerine), soft!Tangerine, and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: Based on a request by @random-thoughts-004. Y'all I wrote some clingy af Tangerine in this one, be ready. This is just more establishment of the universe, enjoy :)]]

Despite Tangerine almost getting down to his knees and begging, you still worked with your agency. The same as Ladybug, and he was still your partner a majority of the time; Tangerine decidedly hated it, but you weren't switching over just because of the twins.

Maria had been with you through a lot, you'd hate ditch her.

This conversation was one well due to Ladybug, explaining well... everything. You thought he deserved to know (Tangerine did not). But it was your secret, so your opinion trumps.

"Wait, so," Ladybug started, leaning back into a chair in a way that shouldn't be comfortable but you somehow knew it was, "-4 years ago, almost 5 now, you were Butterfly?"

"Mhm," you nodded.

"And you faked your death?"

"Because of the White Death," you clarified.

"So, when he was killed on the bullet train," he continued, gears turning, "-you came out of hiding?"

"Yes," you answered.

"And you're a man now," Ladybug added, before turning to you thoughtfully, "-That's a lot of personal change to go through, are you sure you don't want my therapist's number? They're great-"

"Ladybug," you chastised.

"Sorry," he stopped his train of thought, before returning, "-and, just so I know because they could and would kill me at any moment, what's your relationship with the twins? I know you were partners before but mustache has that pendant on his neck and its kind of..."

He fell silent but you could tell by the look on his face -he meant romantic. That you and Tangerine were in a romantic relationship, which you... kind of were? He didn't say anything exclusively, but you assumed... Shit, maybe you shouldn't have assumed.

Later, you told yourself.

"First, you know his name is Tangerine," you responded, "-Secondly, they are my best friends."

He placed his hand over his heart, gasping, "You wound me, Beetle."

You rolled your eyes, "You're a close second."

Ladybug was already passed it, however, "Now, I hate to tell you this, but that pendant thing? Romantic. Romantic as hell. He keeps you next to his heart? Yeah, the guy's head over heels."

You furrowed your eyebrows, opening your mouth to respond.

"Although," he countered (to himself?), "-he is a strange man. I'm not even sure he has feelings past anger."

"Ladybug," you sighed, motioning to yourself, "-come back to me."

He shook his head, before blinking and refocusing on you, speaking then, "Tan's got it bad. Hate to ruin the dynamic, can't imagine the fallout with those two-"

"Ladybug," you replied, "-I know."

And then you paused, for a moment, "Well, I know he has feelings for me, we had this whole reuniting thing-"

"Reuniting thing?"

"Later," you answered, before thoughtfully adding on, "-but he didn't like clarify anything. Should I be assuming?"

Sure you kissed, countless times actually -like every time you met up. But Tangerine had never expressed his feelings to you, or you to him. You loved the guy, but who's to say he loves you?

"Clementine is a very strange man, Beetle," Ladybug paused, pursing his lips, "-but he's not stupid."

"Tangerine," you corrected, before exhaling, "-and stop doing that. You know the only thing keeping him from killing you is me, right?"

"And I thank you for that every day," he spoke gratefully, making prayer hands toward you.

You picked up a pen from the desk, and threw it at his head, "You're such an idiot."

After yet another 'you wound me', the conversation faded off. The next mission being run through (about a month or so away), your day, with Ladybug anyway, was over. You had no job today, mostly because you requested it, but the next one would be a few weeks' worth so you figured it balanced out.

Speaking of jobs, Tangerine (the twins, really) was in New York, you think, doing a job -a hit, maybe. He didn't tell you much about work, you weren't entirely sure why, but you thought it just might have to be a residual torture for not switching agencies. Or maybe he didn't want you to be worried. You could never really tell with him-

Hence the uncertainty. You'd hate to be the one to ask 'What are we?' because it had been so long, and there was something in you that assumed he loved you but... that wasn't certain.

It made you a little on edge, that you didn't have a label, that you didn't know if he loved you too. In fact, maybe all of it was just the adrenaline of you being alive-

Enough thinking for today, you thought -decidedly, before beelining into a bakery.

You'd seen it before with cute puns and a chalkboard outside on the sidewalk -you'd always wanted to go in. Why not today? You were free, and alone... and could really use a sweet of some sort.

Spiraling thoughts meant a sweet craving, what could you say?

Just as you slipped in the door and the warm scent of just... bakery crept through your nose, your phone rang. Vibrated in your pocket, you should say. You patted it for a second before pulling it out, not even reading the name -you kind of already had a clue.

"Hello?" You asked, brushing into the line, and skimming through the menu board. There were so many-

"Hello, love," he sighed out into the phone, and you could hear he was definitely frustrated, "'s good to 'ear your voice."

He called you sometimes, when he got angry -helped him calm down. At least, that's what Lemon said, and you tended to believe him. He was right about a lot, to be fair.

"Lemon tell you to call me?" you questioned, still flicking over the menu boards -there was some sort of toasted sweet bun called 'a bun in the oven'. Interesting choice.

"Yeah," he confirmed, before switching his tone, "-the fuckin' twat."

"What did he do now?" You laughed, you imagined him all harsh edges but still soft with you -you enjoyed the new dynamic. It was... nice.

Made you feel like you were special.

How special? your brain chimed, Boyfriend special? Love special?

You swatted away the thought, trying to listen attentively to your... Tangerine. This was not the time to be worrying about labels, nor was it ever but you knew you would later. Always something to ruin the good.

"Doesn't matter, love," he exhaled out, and you wanted to contradict but something in you said he just wanted to hear you, "-how has your day been? That fuckin' prick treat ya well?"

It was always so weird, to hear such casual things from him. But he always seemed to want to know, he was so genuine about it -wants to know everything. (Maybe so he can kill whoever is necessary if it was a bad day, but still-)

"Ladybug responded very well," you hummed out, "-totally understanding. And it's been... uneventful. Had the meeting with him, and now I'm..."

You paused for a minute, realizing you'd told him about this place before, "Oh! I'm in that bakery I've always wanted to stop by. Had nothing better to do, so, thought I'd see how it holds up."

"You went without me?" He was smiling, you could tell, "-You'll 'ave to tell me the verdict, yeah?"

"Just wait a few minutes and I will," you smiled, chest warm and fuzzy, there was something so domestic about these calls. It made you think that it was labeled, that you were... something.

"'ve got a few minutes," he hummed, low and soft -you could nearly see him in your head. Hunched over a counter, curls falling forward and a ghost of a smile on his lips -listening attentively.

It was midday there, and he usually called you at night, so it must've been something in particular. Maybe bigger than Lemon doing something. You wanted to ask, truly, but he didn't seem to want to about whatever it was.

"Glad you could clear your schedule," you responded with a bitten back laugh.

"You think you're fuckin' funny, yeah?"

"Very," you answered with a smile.

You were next in line, so you skimmed the menu and picked what you wanted. Even with its atrocious name, it still sounded pretty promising; plus the smell in here helped.

Slipping into a booth, you scoot to the wall and place your treat on the table in front of you. The bakery was a little busy, but not the kind that you could hardly think in. It was calmer, like a murmur in the back of your head.

You questioned, toying with the packaging -it probably made a crinkling noise in the background, "How's the job going? Any more staking out?"

He paused, and you could hear a little of the frustration again but it felt distant, "It'll be another day, the guy ended up in the wrong fuckin' safe house. Not the one we'd been at for six hours."

You heard the distant voice of Lemon but you couldn't make it out, Tangerine decidedly did not tell you what he said.

"You not enjoying the city, Tan? The Big Apple?" You posed, a little sarcastically.

"Fuckin' 'ate it 'ere," he muttered, "-'s crowded and stinks. And..."

He faltered for a moment.

"And you're not 'ere," he finished, a little nonchalantly.

Oh, your heart stuttered in your chest, was he sweet now?

You knew he was always sweet, always a gentleman, but he rarely ever said it. He was more of a show-er, not a tell-er. You didn't mind, but to hear it out loud was something entirely different.

"I miss you too, Tangerine," you spoke, gently, so as to not break the moment.

"Yeah?" He asked, seemingly genuinely inquisitive.

"Of course," you nearly laughed, "-what, you think I don't miss you?"

He fell awfully silent, and something in you shifted. Did he really think-

"Tangerine?" You questioned, a bit in disbelief, "-Seriously?"

"You 'ave friends around," he murmured, low like he didn't quite want you to hear it, "-I'm halfway across the fuckin' country-"

"Sure you are," you echoed out, now fully drawn into the conversation, "-but that doesn't mean I'm not going to sit and wait for you. You know that's what I do, right? Wait for you?"

"When... When I come back," he hummed out before sighing big and long, "-no more waitin' on each other, yeah?"

"I'll wait as long as I need to for you, Tan," you hummed out, picking a piece of your treat off, "-but, if you're saying let's go somewhere, I am very into it."

Popping it into your mouth, you heard him chuckle -it made your stomach swirl. You missed the noise; it felt so special to hear, so special, to see the little grin twitch onto his lips.

"You don't 'ave to wait for me."

"I do," you clarified, "-you're my Tangerine, of course, I'm going to wait for you."

"Your Tangerine?" He questioned, and you couldn't tell the tone.

Shit.

"Well," you finished, awkwardly -fidgeting with the wrapper even more, "-yeah, I guess."

He hummed, letting out a little laugh, and it felt like everything in you was on fire. Did he agree? Did he not agree? Your brain was running at 100 miles per hour, as you listened to the silence on the other end.

Finally, you decided to change the subject.

"This is really good," you picked off more and popped it into your mouth, "-you'll definitely have to come here."

He paused for a minute, before replying -thoughtfully (and maybe a little nervously), "You think we can go together sometime? When I'm not... halfway across the fuckin' country."

"Yeah," you smiled, "-whatever you want, Tan."

The rest of the conversation was slow, and boring, honestly, but it seemed to relax Tangerine. You could almost hear the frustration dissipating, rolling off his shoulders the more you talked. You didn't have much to talk about, but you did your best for him -filled the silence.

He didn't bring up the 'my Tangerine', and promptly neither did you.

Before you could hang up, though, you heard a bit of a scuffle, and the voice changed on the phone. Footsteps pattering and cars honking, you realized suddenly they were outside.

"Hi, it's Lemon, stole the phone," he let out quickly, "-just wanted to let you know, because he's too pig-headed to fuckin' say it, he misses you like crazy. It's actually drivin' me mad."

You opened your mouth, but he kept going.

"Should've fuckin' heard 'im on the stakeout, 'Beetle this' and 'Beetle that'," he spoke mockingly, "-and as much as I love you, mate, and I do, he's drivin' me fuckin' insane."

"Lemon, calm down," you laughed out, "-I can barely understand you."

"But you did, yeah?" Lemon clarified, "-Got the whole, 'my brother seemingly can't survive without you constantly in his circle' thing?"

"You're overreacting," you pointed out, "-I'm sure he-"

"No, mate, seriously," he began again, almost desperate, "-I'm goin' to tell 'im to start callin' you daily. He gets so pissy, it's like he's gettin' fuckin' withdrawals."

"Lemon," you sighed out, "-your brother is always pissy."

"Not with you around," he countered, and your heart fluttered in your chest, "-and I can handle regular Tangerine, trust me 'ave my whole life, but this... this is new."

You somehow believed him, "Really?"

"Yeah," Lemon confirmed, before speaking softer, "-I just wanted you to know. I know my brother... isn't exactly open with 'is feelings. It's not 'is strong suit, and you know 'at, but I figured it might help to 'ear from someone else."

You paused for a moment, touched, "Thank you, Lemon."

"The bloke is crazy about you."

You paused, just listening for a second. Digesting it, maybe you didn't need a label. Maybe you already knew.

"Actually, he's fuckin' insane about you," and suddenly he was worked up again, "-just keeps repeatin' and repeatin', I swear to fuckin' god-"

"Lemon," you spoke, exasperated, but still with a smile, "-I get it."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he sighed -seemingly stopping on the sidewalk.

"Both of you, be safe, yeah?"

"Oh, trust me, mate," he laughed, "-my brother will kill everyone in 'is path if it means he gets to come back to you."

He did end up calling you everyday. You hadn't expected it at first, but then the next day you saw his name flicker across the screen, and the next, and the next. You get the picture.

You're not sure if Lemon forced him to or not, but the text ('thank you, I owe you everything') from him seemed to say it was helping.

And you were glad to help. The idea of a daunting label and love faded to the back of your mind; because even if he didn't love you, he really cared about you and that was a big deal for Tangerine.

Plus, you think he'd love you back eventually.

That brought you to now, you were teetering around your hotel room -still safely in the same city. Ladybug was too somewhere, but he was off on his own thing -he'd call if it was anything dangerous. Or he should anyway.

Ladybug was a wildcard sometimes.

Like the time he hadn't brought a weapon on a hit, because he was doing some "self-cleansing". There were a few times of the same caliber.

You'd gotten used to it by now.

Just as you finally roamed to the couch, grabbing a blanket from the back of it and pulling it over you -switching on the TV, there was a knock on the door.

You furrowed your eyebrows in thought, who the hell could that be?

Your mind immediately went to Ladybug, and to be fair, he did usually show up with no warning. So, it could definitely be him. Plus, he was in the same city. And then, you had the sudden thought that he was hurt and needed your help.

You scampered to your feet without an extra thought, rushing to open the door -waiting for the ever-familiar face. God, he's probably-

That, however, was not the face you expected.

"Tangerine? Hey, what are you-"

Before you could say another word, he gathered you up in his arms -wrapping himself completely around you and slouching slightly to shove his face in your neck. He kicked the door shut without even looking up.

You fell silent -a bit in awe.

This (cuddling?) was very new.

You paused for a moment trying to steady yourself, before relaxing, and raising your hand to brush over his scalp. Threading your fingers through his hair, you could nearly see his shoulders drop the tension they held. Huh.

"Hey, Tan?" You offered, slow and timid.

He hummed into your skin, and you took it as a response.

"Can I-" you spoke, hesitantly, "-lock the door?"

Tangerine sat up at that, arms still wrapped around you with a quirk in his brow, "We're fuckin' assassins, love. Are you really worried about someone breakin' in?"

Still, he pulled you with him and flipped the lock.

"Well," you echoed, a touch embarrassed, "-now that you say that."

He laughed, his head tilting back slightly and you got a woosh of his cologne -which really smelt good. Your head went a little fuzzy at it.

Before you could say a word though, Tangerine leaned forward and kissed you -simple and domestic. Warm and fuzzy. It was just a press of the lips, but it was a little longer -like he somehow needed it. Wanted to feel it longer. Have you around him, maybe.

When you parted and your eyes fluttered open, you brought a hand to his face, "Are you okay, Tan? You're kind of... freaking me out."

He pressed his lips together, and something in him softened -you did not see the hard exterior at all with the moment. It was both refreshing and terrifying -you couldn't decide which one wom you over.

You took his silence as the initiative to keep talking, "You have never hugged me like that, ever, and you're being sweet. Suspiciously sweet."

Tangerine smiled at you for a moment, before pulling you forward and resting his head on top of yours. Moving slightly so he could bury his nose in your hair, he muttered out, "'Ere's a first time for everythin', yeah?"

"Tan," you pressed, but decidedly didn't move, "-it's not that I don't like this, far from it actually, but you... Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath in, before pulling back -running a hand through his hair, "Just tired, love, exhausted."

"You weren't supposed to be here until Monday," you questioned, grabbing his hand and placing yours in his stead -fingers brushing through the hair (like you'd ever give that up), "-it's not Monday."

"Lemon, the dick, told me to come back," he explained, leaning ever-so-slightly into your hand, "-told me he was fuckin' sick of it and booked me a ticket."

"Did you get the job done? The hit?"

"Yeah," he clarified, "-he just wanted to stay in the city longer. Wanted to go 'sightseeing' like a fuckin' tourist. Did he forget we were 'ere on a job?"

"Tangerine," you laughed, "-Lemon deserves to have fun. Life isn't just about the job."

He looked at you a certain way then, some affectionate haze bloomed across his eyes, "Yeah, it isn't."

You thought for a spare second, he may have been talking about you. That you were the other side of his life. And the more you thought about how he showed up, sweet and touchy, maybe he was.

"You know you can-" you paused, "-relax with me, right? I didn't mean to say you can't be like that, I just... I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Tangerine pursed his lips.

"I'm not, shit-" you exhaled, "-You can be whatever sort of Tangerine you want to be with me. I won't mind."

"'At's an odd way of sayin' it, but-" he responded, "-I understand, love."

"Good," you patted your hand on his chest, "-because I was really hanging on by a thread there."

He laughed, a tiny little chuckle, and without hesitation, kissed you again -soft and slow. There was no end goal with it, just like he wanted to know you were there -you were real.

You'd talked about it before, the nightmares. The ones of you with a different face, dying, and all he could do was stand by watching; or even the ones with your same face, and the same thing. Dying right in front of him, and he was helpless.

"Tangerine?" You hummed, soft and in between the press of lips.

"Yes, love?"

You pulled back, raising your hands to cup his face and thumbs lingering under his eyebags, "Let's get some sleep, yeah? You look tired."

He turned his face into your hand, kissing your palm -his mustache tickled a little, and with a slow, succinct nod -he agreed.

Just as you began to pull him into the room though, he suddenly stopped. Feet frozen in place, you spun around to look at him.

"Just so ya know," he spoke, slow and soft -not breaking the mood, "-you're my Beetle too."

You smiled, mimicking, "Yours?"

"Yeah," he smiled -big and bright and only for you to see, "-definitely fuckin' mine."

Yeah, he loves you. You were surprised you'd ever even wondered otherwise.

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[abyssyby]

sylus’s heart, too big for his human body, pounding like a war drum every time you call him yours

“hi, my love.” and he has to take a minute— take a quick breath before responding with a soft ‘hello’ or a nonchalant (or as nonchalant as he can manage) quip about having missed him.

“i’m alright, my dear.” and all thought ceases and his fingers freeze over the wound he was tending to. his anger fizzles away like the rain on the pavement when the sun emerges from the clouds. all strength leaves his limbs as he rests his forehead to your uninjured shoulder, where a small but tender kiss is placed, and revels in the sound of your breathing.

“my heart, please.” and he’s gone. anything you ask for, anything you want is as good as yours if he has anything to do about it. his money, his home, his touch, his time— all yours, yours, yours.

“my sylus.” and he is at rest. the world is quiet, there is only you, your warmth, your voice. when the memory of his name returns to you, and he sees in your eyes that recognition—and love, despite who he was, who he is and who he will ever be in your bonded lifetimes, he gives up his entire being to you.

he is yours, and how he wishes your greed for proclaiming it would grow tenfold, until even the mere thought of him belongs to no one else.