#argument headcanons

Maybe not with his feelings, but he’s insanely confrontational with you. You can’t hide shit from him and you know it.

That’s the issue with dating a serial killer, especially one like Ro, there’s always a target on your back.

The attention feels sometimes nice, sometimes suffocating.

He is not, not, not the type to apologize for the sake of apologizing.

He only leaves you alone if he genuinely is aware he’s doing something wrong and takes some time, just a few minutes to cool down. He’s already thought about it it’s just, his words betrayed him.

Maybe he was enabling you too much, maybe he felt threatened and left you there stranded.

Maybe he just… pushed too hard?

He feels it in his chest boiling out like bile, but he comes back calm, and genuinely sits you down and talks to you. He apologizes.

Now, you did something wrong? He does not hesitate to let you know you did something wrong. He isn't backing down.

He's not the type of man to "archive" arguments, the heat of it is genuine to him and he means it, and if he and you can't communicate on something small? Then what. What happens when push comes to shove. What happens when you eventually scream beast and run with the part of him you kept. Then what.

No, he sits and explains and drills it in till you know it, smug, still. And genuinely angry.

He may be too honest but he's not backing down.

If neither of you are wrong? Just… two messed up individuals butting heads? It’s complicated. He wants to understand you, if he doesn’t already. Him not understanding threatens him, he’s used to always understanding.

If you fall asleep on the couch that night, he feels this grain of resentment, pain, for making him feel like the monster.

For making him feel like he’s preying on you when it’s just a miscommunication.

With the people he loves? He’s intense, and careful cause he’s used to joking around with feelings pretending like it doesn’t hurt him as much as it does.

But there’s always this feeling.

If you leave him the whole day, he drags you back with something.

Maybe there’s a shoe in hidden in your room together, one you never leave without. Hell, if you just escape to another room, maybe it’s your phone.

He prides himself on the fact the devil doesn’t beg, but he is a desperate man.

💖 Van is infuriating to argue with... like the absolute worst. He always thinks he's right and will NOT back down, even when he's proven to be wrong. His stubbornness is his worst quality.

💖 He also always has to have the last word in a fight which irritates you beyond belief and you find it near on impossible to bite your tongue and let him.

💖 Last weekend you'd had a flash of inspiration though mid row and it had instantly given you the upper hand. You're definitely going to file away the valuable information for future reference…

"Y/N... what the fuck have you done with my shampoo?"

Van's voice has that sharp edge that makes you instantly bristle as it blares down the narrow corridor of the tourbus. You close your eyes, meaning to mentally count to ten before you reply just like Bondy advised you to, but you find you just can't help it. You only manage to get to five when you hear Van noisily clattering around in the small bathroom, muttered curses of "what the hell is all this shit?" and "right... it's all going in the bin!" causing you to stride quickly to the bathroom door.

You don't even think about knocking, tearing the door open in a swift motion, then having to bite back a laugh at Van's shocked expression as he makes a grab for a towel to cover the lower half of his naked frame.

"Jesus! Whatever happened to knocking? Especially after the shit you gave me when I walked in on you doing your fake tan the other week!"

"Should've locked it then shouldn't you?" You smirk back at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his even though you're dying to let them slip down to catch a glimpse of what's hiding beneath the towel.

Van's not so subtle or anywhere near as restrained, his gaze sweeping over the neckline of the robe that you'd slipped into after your own shower. He quickly darts his eyes back to yours when you loudly clear your throat.

"What am I supposed to have done this time then?" You ask, hands on your hips, head cocked back in a challenging pose that tells him you're not going to take any of his shit. He's been moaning about you 'taking over the bus' with all your belongings since you came on board in Manchester.

"I know you've chucked out my shampoo so don't even try and lie about it. It was nearly a full bottle an' all." He thrusts an accusing finger in your face as he talks, annoyance radiating off him. "Or maybe you've been using it. That's it isn't it? You've gone and used it all up!"

"As if I'd use that crap!" You scoff at him, knowing your refusal to take things seriously will grate on him. It's hardly a life changing matter, but that's just the thing on the bus, with everyone being forced to exist in such close quarters, small issues are easily blown out of proportion. "I like to take care of my hair, I wouldn't dream of using that rubbish two in one stuff. I actually poured it down the toilet if you must know, every last drop of it. I'm doing you a big favour really."

Van's eyes bulge as his lips pull into a hard line. "You fucking did what?"

"You heard me," you taunt him, easing your shoulders back as you feel the silky material of your robe gape open slightly, exposing your chest. Your skin's still a little ruddy from the warmth of your shower, or maybe it's the heat of Van's glare warming you though. There's something about the flash of fire in his eyes when you rile him up that paints a flush on your skin. It excites you.

"You can't fuck about with other people's property like that," he fumes, taking a step forward, causing you to back up. "You're infuriating! You've been deliberately trying to wind me up since tour started and this is just another one of your little tricks isn't it? C'mon, admit it."

He's trying to maintain eye contact but he's struggling, little glances flicking downwards as you feel the humid air on your exposed skin. If your robe were to slip open a little more he'd get an eyeful and a little voice in your head is telling you to just let it happen so you can see what his reaction will be.

"It's not that at all, like I said I'm doing you a favour," you reply coolly, your challenging smirk never faltering, even when Van takes another step, crowding you back against the wall of the cramped bathroom. "It's about time you started taking care of yourself properly, especially that ridiculous mop on your head that you call a hair style. Looks shit."

"Oh that's right," Van sneers, one hand raising up to rest flat on the wall by your head. "Here come the insults. You just can't help yourself can you? I'm fucking sick of it!"

He's so close you can feel his breath warm on your face, close enough that you know he won't notice the fact that you're surreptitiously pulling at the tie of your robe, causing the flimsy material to slip over the contours of your breasts, totally exposing them. You love the way you can provoke a reaction out of Van without even trying and you're betting that just as easily as you can make his temper flare, you can diffuse it as swiftly.

"That's just your trouble, you dish it out all the time but you can't take it back. You like to throw your weight around, acting like you're the boss. If you're so sick of me, then why d'ya keep me around then, huh?"

You press your shoulders into the wall, pushing your chest out, trying to stifle the laugh that's desperate to burst free as Van's eyes suddenly slip down once again and they widen instantaneously.

"Well it's... errr... it's... errr..."

"It's what?" You counter, arching your back slightly, your pert nipples now just inches away from his bare chest, tempting him further. "You want me to go? Because I can go and pack my stuff up right now and get off the bus when we reach Birmingham. Just say the word and I'm gone."

"Don't blow this all out of proportion... I... I didn't mean I wanted you gone, it's just... it's just..."

The angry edge in his voice has completely gone, the last few words uttered in a shaky whisper with no force. His resolve to antagonise you is shot, the fight draining swiftly from him as desire jostles to take over.

"It's just what Van? C’mon, I'm waiting for this big revelation."

He licks at his lips, his brow creased in conflict as he battles to maintain eye contact. "But you’re not playin' fair. I'm trying to have a serious discussion here and you're... you're... distracting me."

He trails off, sighing in frustration as he takes a small step back, not enough to put any real distance between you both, just enough so that he doesn't have to peer downwards to take all of you in. He does it now, his gaze roaming hungrily over your naked chest, longing etched into his features.

"Shit Y/N... you drive me insane... you really do."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you smile sweetly, pretending not to notice the very obvious way the towel is now tenting over his crotch. "So let me get this straight. You're pissed off 'cause I'm supposedly causing all these arguments, but you're also mad at me because I'm distracting you from arguing too?"

"Fuck's sake..." he whines, his tone petulant, full of frustration. "You know I don't really wanna fallout with you... I just..." his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly "I just wanna..."

"You just wanna what?" You ask expectantly, grasping the edges of the robe with both hands and pulling it back over your shoulders so it crumples to the floor in one swift movement. If there was any doubt before about your motives in diverting a row then it's clear now, and Van doesn't hesitate to follow your lead.

"You know what I want," he mutters, stepping forward again, hands on your shoulders to drive you back against the wall. You look up at him, see the fire of need burning in his eyes. "Just like I said you're infuriating... but I also can't stay away from you. I’m crazy for you babe."

"So... how are we gonna work this out, huh?”

The barely concealed smirk playing on your lips shows him you know exactly what's about to go down and what's more, you're fully on board with the solution. You push your hips forward to meet his, his now prominent bulge pressing up against you under the towel.

"Hmmm... I have some ideas," he murmurs, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your face up to his, your lips now only inches apart. "Want me to show you?"

"Uh-huh..."

His lips are soft and warm and pliant, the addictive quality of his kiss washing over you as he hums low and sweet into your mouth. You reach forward to grab his hips, pulling the towel free so it crumples to the floor as you pull him closer. He lets out a soft growl as your naked bodies mash against each other.

"Damn woman... you got me trapped under some kinda spell, I'm sure of it."

He chuckles softly as you pull apart, the feel of him hot, hard and needy for you making your own core throb with want. You wrap a hand around him, smirking up at him in satisfaction as his jaw falls slack, his cock swelling in your palm.

"Oh yeah? Are you sure it's a spell and not just your obsession with my tits?"

“Can you blame me?” He laughs, his large hands moving up to cup your breasts, thumbs sweeping over the hardened peaks of your nipples. “They’re fantastic tits… fuckin’ perfect. And now I’m gonna show you exactly how much I love ‘em.”