#he just refuses to admit that his refusal to get the gas back on is causing me damage

[zombie-projects]

My dad: There's no way taking cold showers is giving you chillblains. That's not how this works.

Also my dad: Is tenosynovitis related to your chillblains?

[dixons-sunshine]

Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)

“Mr Dixon?”

At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.

Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”

“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”

Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”

“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”

“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”

“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”

“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”

“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”

By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.

“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”

Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”

It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.

“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.

Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”

“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.

“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.

“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.

The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:

“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[daddy-suguru]

‘𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚’

requested by ✑ @moneygrape - Ok I saw this TikTok (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRpk3dCL/) and I thought holy 😳 this has to be at least one of the jjk men. What do you think?

Toji has been jealous easily, which he refuses to admit. While you are tired of him acting serious while the two of you are 'stringless' friends with benefits. Quickly, he reminds you that your pussy belongs to him. While he struggles with being emotionally vulnerable.

wc: 1.2k

✑ tags: hurt/comfort, 'hidden' jealousy, confessions, toji struggling with vulnerability, brat-tamer!ex-boyfriend!Toji, brat!reader, brat taming,, daddy/brat/doll, very light objectivation - calling you like a sex doll, hair pulling, degradation/praise, friends with benefits

Sliding his hand up underneath your short, clingy dress. Toji questions, "This is what my doll does while I'm gone? You like to dress up and whore yourself out." Spreading your legs, as he drags his rough fingertips closer towards your pussy.

No one quite felt like Toji. You're craving tentative strokes, the rough thickness of his fingers stroking your squishy pussy. He mumbles, "No panties? You're a desperate slut just waiting to be fucked, aren't you?"

After six years of fooling on and off, you had learned a painful lesson. Toji will never settle down. The ache has you wanting to rile him up, to make you fuck you with more emotion than just lust.

Slurring some of your words together. "It's because Daddy hasn't been fucking me riiight!" Moaning as he curls his fingers, finding your sweet spot within seconds. Smirking and adding on,

"I'm not your pretty sex doll, so you shouldn't mind sharing." Glancing over at Toji, his face blank. As he seems to pay more attention to the cars on the road. While his fingers pumping inside of you are more of an afterthought.

Clenching his hand with your thighs as your heart sinks into your gut. Looking away and biting into your bottom lip. Disappointment and pleasure mix, as you remind yourself that you've given up on having more with Toji.

"You might not be mine, but she is. I can tell she's missed me. Whoever you picked up couldn't take care of my pussy. Not when she's this desperate. She's sucking in my fingers." Toji possessiveness over your pussy, talking as if he knows her better.

He is jus a distance old friend, showing up to split your pussy open with his fat cock then ghost. In the past two years, he had been showing up more. Calling you his, making it hard for you to keep old feelings buried.

Toji presses down on the gas, weaving through the traffic to get ahead of some slow drivers on the highway. While he pumps his fingers faster. Stroking circles into your clit with his rough thumb.

Turning down the rumbling base of his car. While he mummers, "Gripping me so tight, doll." Biting into your bottom lip, holding back your moans. He prods, "Where's the sass?" Opening your mouth, only to whimper his name, pleading,

"Don't stop fuck!" He slips his fingers out, the high drop rapidly. Bringing you out of the hazy clouds. Brewing miserable frustration, your clit twitches and throbs. As he questions,

"So now you want to begging? You don't want to use this time to trash talk my cock some more before I have you screaming it's too much." Licking his fingers clean, loudly groaning as he does.

The heavy raspy sounds going straight to your pussy. Which you wish he was filling up with his fingers. Instead of stuffing them in his mouth. Groaning at the flavor, as he loudly slurps.

Crossing your arms, looking out the dark window as he pulls into a driveway of a small house. The porch light is on, along with a small light. And you hold back your questions to give sass instead.

Snapping at Toji, "Won't hear it again. As if your cock could be too much, barely remember what it feels like." Toji is quiet as he opens his car door and slips out. Leaving you to follow as he grabs the house's key.

Asking him, "How long are you renting?" He opens the door and walks in without a word. With you slipping in behind, locking the door. While Toji slipped out of his shoes.

You had already abandoned your shoes the moment you sat in his car. Knowing he would take you home the next day. And a part of you wonders how many made it to being able to sleep over.

It was three years before Toji let you stay the night. Or before he spent the night at yours. And now you would like to think you are the one of few with his number. Since it didn't matter where he was at, he would answer back within the hours.

Walking into his living room, with you trailing behind. He clicks on the overhead light and stands in front of a dark green sofa. Pushing the coffee table with a nudge of his foot.

He points at the ground in front of him and demands, "On your knees." You hate how quickly you listen, knees touching the floor before you could blink. Because fuck if you didn’t miss this, the way he looks down at you with long locks falling into hungry dark eyes. His smirk and the scar that only made his lips more kissable.

His large, heavy, hanging cock is in your face.Your eyes widen as you take in his pulsing, fat vein and dripping cockhead. He chuckles, the urges you. "Remember your words in the car." Picking his cock up and hitting your lips.

Opening your mouth, Toji pushes your head forward. Rolling his hips, pushing his fat head deep into your throat. He groans, "I don't mind fucking the bratty slut outta ya, making you a sexy housewife. Since I bought this place, you're not fucking around with anyone else." Placing your hands on his thighs, pushing away.

Slipping his cock out with a loud pop, "You're not my daddy, Toji. You can't tell me what to do. If I want tonnnf!" Toji stuffs his cock down your throat. Gagging around him, squeezing his cock. While you can feel his veins pulse, making his cock seem like it's throbbing.

Your nose presses into the short dark patch of hair. "Like hell I'm not, sass me all you want, but you come running to me every time I come back to town." Pulling his hips back, dragging his cock along your tongue slowly. As you suck in your cheeks and stick out your tongue.

Groaning loudly, "That's it, relax my pretty mouth and take my fat cock like a good girl." Rolling his hips, slowly, savoring your smooth wet mouth around his cock. As your spit drips down your chin.

Digging your nails into his thighs as Toji picks up his pace as tears fill your eyes. Cradling the back of your head, groaning,

"You gonna cry for your Daddy? And here I thought you could handle my cock. Thought I wasn't too much, but you're already crying." The last bit of air escapes in a moan, sending vibrations down to his cock into his balls.

The possessiveness isn't like Toji. He is just as cool, collected, and cocky as ever. But this was new. He never so firmly insists on belonging together before. Instead, he always lets you know is his favorite pussy.

Now he is so boldly calling you his....maybe you were reading too much into it. Too eager to nurse the crush that never fully died. Which might as well have been called what it is; unrequited love. For a man too damaged to give you what you need.

Pressing your thighs together. Cock sucking wasn't always your favorite. But when it is Toji's, you love everything about it. From the weight of his hand on your head, to the contrasting softness of his skin over the hardness of his cock.

To how vocal he is, watching you suck his cock with such hungry lust. It makes your pussy sloppy wet with anticipation. Pressing your thighs together, trying to give your clit some friction.

Toji slips his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop. As he insists, "You're my pretty sex doll for me to fuck my fat cock into." Softly panting, catching your breath. As Toji wipes away, a fat tear rolls down your cheek.

Leaning into his palm. Toji's face softens with adoration in his eyes. The tenderness of his actions makes you forget your previous brattiness. Until he slaps his cock on your lips, he recalls,

"Remember what you said in my car?" There is a special pleasure in being manhandled by Toji. His large, rough hands grasp your body, moving you with ease. Bending you over the sofa and ripping your dress.

Opening your mouth to snap at him. As he brings his hand down roughly on your cheek. A loud cry of his name cuts your protests off. The delicious stinging of his heavy hand hitting your ass has your pussy clenching.

Toji roughly orders, "Cry about it!" Lining his cock up with your lips. Your eyes widen as you reach back, pushing on his clothed abs. He grabs your hip and hand, yanking your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Pausing and pulling his shirt off. Grabbing your other wrist tugging it back while reassuring you, “I'll buy you a new one to rip off you.” Wrapping his shirt around your wrists, binding them together behind your back.

Biting into your bottom lip, refusing to make a sound. While savoring how Toji’s heavy cock drags along your squishy pussy. Fighting the urge to push back when only his fat head.

He grabs your hair and pulls your head back, arching your back and slapping your ass. Before demanding, “Tell me who this pussy belongs to and I’ll let you cum quickly.”

[steddiealltheway]

Gareth is sick and tired of Eddie refusing to admit that he has a crush on Steve Harrington.

At first, Gareth had just brushed it off when Eddie seemed so adamant about interrogating Steve and his involvement with his new lost sheep. He had done something similar when he meet Gareth's few middle school friends the year before. But Eddie seems to think that one meeting isn't enough and insists that's why he always needs to rush out to talk to Steve and invade his space when he picks up the kids from Hellfire.

Gareth sees right through it. Eddie had come out to him a while ago saying he was definitely some form of queer after Gareth caught him making out with a guy in the Hideout bathroom. And he was more than okay with it.

But he is not okay with the way Eddie refuses to tell him - his best friend - that he has a crush on Steve.

"Then why do you always go to Family Video during his shifts and not buy anything, huh? Plus, you know that you never call anyone 'big boy.' Yes, I heard that when you were flirting with him after our last Hellfire campaign."

Eddie just rolls his eyes and dramatically flings out his arms. "I'm making sure the kids are safe with him."

Gareth snorts in response to that bullshit, and Eddie gives him an unimpressed look.

"Well, I'm going to Family Video to get a movie for my mom, and I would appreciate-"

"Yeah, I'll give you a ride," Eddie interrupts, looking way too happy to offer.

Gareth sighs but doesn't push it. He really needs to ride, and if the only reason Eddie's offering is to give him an excuse to be there... Gareth will take it and hopefully not be expected to pitch in for gas.

A quick ride over later, Gareth is almost displeased to see Steve behind the counter, eyes lighting up when he sees Eddie. Those two are absolutely ridiculous, and if Eddie would pull his head out of his ass for once, then Gareth could finally tell him that Steve likes him too.

He lets them lean into each other and practically giggle over anything the other has to say until he finds his movie and goes to the counter. That's when he finally notices Robin Buckley there staring at the two with a mix of fondness and irritation. Gareth is sure that he has the same look on his face.

He shoots her a knowing look, and Robin's eyes widen in an expression of hopeless, those two. Gareth gestures between the two and rolls his eyes - absolutely.

Then, they both look at each other in realization. Gareth knows Robin is cool and a bit awkward from their interactions in band classes, but he didn't know that she was that cool. And that she definitely knows about whatever thing is between those two.

Robin levels him with the same look, staring him up and down before finally seeming to settle on that he's cool too and also knows. They both kind of nod at each other in agreement that certain things need to be unspoken, but they absolutely need to rant about the two idiots.

They both start talking at the same time.

"Oh my gosh, I thought it was just me-"

"You have no idea how long I've needed to talk to someo-"

They stop and laugh a bit, both looking toward the boys, but they don't even register the interaction especially since Steve is tucking a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear while Eddie stares at him with heart eyes. Love is gross.

Robin takes Gareth's tape and goes through the process of ringing him up. "It's like they both are oblivious to the other's feelings."

"They are! Eddie won't even admit his feelings to himself, and I've been pushing it," Gareth complains, pinching his nose. He thinks he might feel a tension headache starting to form from those two.

Robin thuds her fingers on the counter in thought then slides Gareth's tape back at him. "Eddie's the jealous type, right?"

Gareth nearly scoffs. Jealous can be a bit of an understatement when it comes to him. "Of course."

Robin gets a grin that kind of scares Gareth to the core. She leans over the counter and whispers, "Then, I need you to flirt with Steve."

His jaw absolutely drops. "No way. Eddie would murder me!"

"And why would he if he has no feelings for him?" Robin asks with a bit of a manic twinkle in her eye that reminds him of Eddie.

Shit, she's right. It's definitely a plan that will work and finally get Eddie to admit how he feels... but also could get Gareth killed and banned from ever talking to Eddie again.

He glances over at the two and notices the way Eddie is blushing and trying to hide behind his hair as Steve stares on proudly. Gareth sighs. "Okay, I'll confront him one more time, and if he doesn't admit it after this little show, then I'll go through with the plan."

Robin sticks her hand across the counter and Gareth shakes on it. "Eddie should come in around six tomorrow during our shift. Come back before then with your tape or something as an excuse and have at it with the dingus here. But, you'll probably only be able to chat with him because I haven't seen him flirt with someone in a while - not since your dingus showed up. That should be enough to set Eddie off though, right?"

"Absolutely."

Robin laughs and loudly says, "Pleasure doing business with you. We hope to see you back at Family Video soon."

This startles Steve and Eddie out of the trance they put each other in, and Gareth watches with full annoyance as Eddie goes all puppy dog eyes as he sadly says goodbye to Steve.

In the parking lot, Gareth says, "You absolutely-"

And Eddie is quick to interrupt him, "Don't have feelings for him!"

Oh yeah. The plan is on.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day with only a few minutes to spare before Eddie shows up, Gareth returns with his tape and a pulse that is way too high for his own good. When Robin sees him come through the door, she tells Steve that she's taking her break and shoots Gareth a thumbs up.

God, what has he gotten himself into?

He walks up to the counter and slides the tape across. "Hey, I need to return this."

Steve smiles at him politely but frowns when it doesn't ring up.

"I think Robin didn't ring it up for me yesterday. I don't remember paying," Gareth confesses. This is probably yet another part of Robin's genius plan to force them to have a longer interaction.

Steve looks him up and down for a moment then says, "Hey, I know you. You're Gareth. Eddie talks about you all the time, but I didn't know you knew Robin."

And woah, he did not expect Steve Harrington to know a single thing about him. Honestly, he's a bit flattered and even begins to blush a bit. "Yeah, we've had a few band classes together."

"That's cool. What do you play?" Steve presses on, leaning into the counter not in the flirtatious way he does with Eddie, but Gareth thinks as a means to make him more comfortable.

"Drums in the jazz band," he readily admits.

Steve's eyebrows furrow in thought. "I didn't know Hawkins even had a jazz band. I'll have to come see you play sometime."

"Yeah?" Gareth asks in disbelief and a bit of awe. It's Steve Harrington for Christ's sake. Of course, he's going to get a bit taken aback by the fact that he wants anything to do with him. He feels that damn blush again and barely registers the bell to the door ringing behind him.

"Yeah, man," Steve says with a smile. "Sounds cool as shit."

Someone clears their throat behind them and Gareth jumps a bit. He turns quickly to find Eddie fixing him with a look of hurt mixed with rage at the sight of Gareth leaning toward Steve with a damn blush on his face. He's not into him, but he can definitely admit that Steve just has some type of pull to him. But Eddie definitely does not see it that way.

"Gareth, can I talk to you outside?"

Gareth nods and doesn't utter a sound. Oh, he's going to kill him. He's about to die. He absolutely should not have gone through with this plan.

He wanders outside toward Eddie's van and lets Eddie talk first.

"What the fuck was that in there?" Eddie asks with anger in his tone but hurt in his eyes.

Gareth just shrugs in response and waits for Eddie to finally confess that he has feelings for Steve and he needs to back off.

Only, he doesn't. He just stands there staring at Gareth, and for some reason it pisses him off so he pushes. "Just thought that if you didn't have feelings for him then I could take a shot at him."

Eddie's mouth opens and closes until he finally huffs, "Great for you. You have a better chance anyways so good luck to you."

Eddie flips him off and starts heading to the driver's side of his van, but Gareth runs and gets there first. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Eddie crosses his arms but keeps a scary tension in his shoulders. "I mean that you're not the town freak, so you can have at him!"

Gareth scoffs and digs a finger into his chest. "That's why you won't admit you have feelings for him! You don't think he likes you!"

Eddie's arms fling wide open. "Of course, he doesn't like me! But I'm not about to cry over some bullshit feelings that will never be returned, so let me just have whatever it is between me and him and not have to put this label on how it makes me feel because I don't want to fucking deal with it! Let me live in sweet ignorance!"

"And that's where you're wrong," someone who is not Gareth says.

"Christ!" both Eddie and Gareth say startling back.

Steve stands in front of them with his arms crossed, but he only stares at Eddie. "What was that about bullshit feelings? Because I don't know about you, but I definitely like you."

Eddie's face flushes a bit red as he steps closer to Steve, unable to stay out of his space whenever he's nearby. "My feelings for you aren't bullshit at all. They're just fucking scary as hell, man."

Steve laughs softly and steps into Eddie's space. "You don't think that I've been scared, too? I would've made a move on you weeks ago if you would've said something."

"Well, I'm saying something now," Eddie says with a big smile.

Gareth really doesn't think he should be witnessing this.

Steve's eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips as he huskily says, "You sure are."

Yeah, Gareth has had enough of this shit. "Hey, guys?" Gareth says, interrupting them and ignoring Eddie's hell of a death glare. "Sorry to ruin your moment, but I'm still here. Plus, you're in a public parking lot."

Eddie still glares at him, but Steve nods. "Thanks, Gareth." He turns back to Eddie. "He's right, but luckily for you, I know of this really nice breakroom that has a door that locks. Plus, I was waiting for you to come so I could take my break."

Eddie's sour look drops from his face, and he practically starts buzzing with excitement. "Let's not waste another moment then."

Gareth is truly happy for them, but he doesn't think he ever wants to hear them interact again. But on their way back, Eddie stops and says something then runs back to Gareth and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, man. Thank you for dealing with me, but if I ever see you flirt at Steve again..."

Gareth pulls away from the hug and shoves Eddie's shoulders. "I wasn't flirting! I was talking to him to make you jealous and finally admit your feelings."

"Then what the hell was that blush!"

"He's like royalty! How else am I supposed to act when I find out he knows my name!"

Eddie takes a moment to really stare at Gareth then he gets a weird smile on his face. "You know, Steve knows this guy named Will..."

Gareth shoves Eddie again to cut him off. "Have fun making out with your boyfriend."

Eddie smiles widely then turns to run back to the store. Gareth smiles and watches as the two loudly laugh when they both try to squeeze through the doorway at the same time.

Then, Gareth looks around and realizes that by having his mom drop him off that he has no ride. He sighs and heads back to the store. Maybe he and Robin can celebrate, and she can tell him more about this Will while he waits...

[ghost-proofbaby]

the cool down (e.m.)

request: from the lovely @mrsjellymunson: Please may I have a 🍋 (with 🍓 elements if there’s room) with Eddie Munson (friends-to-lovers, or established relationship, or your choice of other) in a super-hot, uncomfortable van on a really hot day (or day into evening), where he and reader have to come up with ever-more-daring/inventive ways to cool down/off, and maybe they end up next to, or in, Lover’s Lake?? I’m thinking cool cans of drink/beer, water sprays, fans, wet clothing…

a/n: okay this definitely took on a mind of its own and i just realized i did not have any water sprays or fans or wet clothing, but i did have eddie come up with a sort of unique way to cool us down <3 i hope you still enjoy this, kittie!! <3 <3 (also, if you squint, reader is alluded to having a chronic illness that causes extreme weather conditions to affect them. and i mean, you really have to squint. it's just very very vague since i got lost in the sauce of smut).

warnings: smut, oral f receiving, reader is afab, allusion to oral m receiving at the end, temperature play (ice). minors dni.

wc: 3.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

First, it had been to go driving around to get your minds off the heat. 

And it had worked. Eddie’s van was certainly not any cooler than the trailer had been, but something about riding around the town aimlessly with all the windows down did get your mind off the unbearable heatwave. Something about Eddie, singing along purposefully off-key to his favorite songs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you laughed at him, made it all a little less terrible. His genius plan had worked – for the first hour. 

Then, it had been to go to the gas station and get slushies. 

An even better plan than his original one, honestly. You’d gone from staring at his dash while the van stalled at a red light, desperately trying to focus on anything but that creeping sickness at the edges of your mind, when he’d brought it up. One moment, your stomach is dropping as you feel that familiar light-headedness. The next, your en-route for a cherry slushy, on your doting boyfriend’s dime. 

You win some, you lose some. 

The losing being the terrible affect the heat currently had on you now that you were laying out in the back of Eddie’s van now, parked at Lover’s Lake, the water doing nothing to cool the smothering breeze enveloping you two. 

��So, did you bring me all the way out here to kill me, or just stare at the lake all night?” you ask after taking another sip of the tart frozen treat currently cooling both your mouth and palms. It’s melting fast, the plastic cup holding it never standing a chance against your body heat mingling with the summer air. 

Eddie had insisted upon coming straight to the lake after the gas station. Urging you to walk back to the van faster as he’d held a cup in each hand; one blue raspberry slushy, and one mystery styrofoam cup he refused to admit just what it contained. 

As Eddie speaks, you can see his purple stained tongue, “Who says I’m gonna kill ya?” 

“All the movies,” you drawl, stretching your legs out in front of you, the soles of your sandals not even reaching the edge of the van. The thrown-open doors sway ever so slightly in the wind, “Why else would you bring me here, so far away from civilization?” 

“So no one could hear you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that immediately slips out. You nearly choke on your straw you’d lifted back up to your lips, side-eyeing him through a few wild coughs. 

“Excuse me?” 

He clearly hadn’t processed what he’d just said, because his eyes go wide as he attempts to backtrack, “Wait, wait, wait! No! I just- I didn’t mean-” he pauses and sighs, leaning his head back to wipe a frustrated palm over his face, “Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t mean it in a murderer way – I meant it in a horny way.” 

The horny comment nearly goes entirely over your head, “You’re not going to kill me? That’s something a murderer would say- wait, did you just say you meant it in a horny way?”

You both stare at each other for a short while, matching blown out pupils and chests rising in sync as you both suck in impossible bursts of parching oxygen only to blow them out in rapid successions. 

“I did,” he finally breathes out, timidly reaching behind him, revealing that styrofoam cup once more. 

Not even a drop of sweat on it yet. It’s holding up tremendously better than your slushies had. 

“What’s in the cup?”

You’re feeling bold, ignoring the pooling perspiration at the nape of your neck as you scoot yourself a bit closer, fighting a smile. 

“Well, I know the heat bothers you a lot…”

“Right.”

“And I was trying to think of ways to cool you down…”

“Of course.”

“But also just take your mind off of it, in general.”

“That all sounds great, Eddie,” you lean forward, slushy cup pressing into your kneecap as you reach forward for the mystery cup. Eddie is quick to fling his arm up, keeping it far out of your reach, “But what’s in that damn cup?”

Instead of answering right away, he grins slowly, wiggling his eyebrows comically until you roll your eyes at him. 

“Fine, keep your secr-”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

He purrs out the command, the sweet nickname a cherry on top. 

In a blink of an eye, your joking boyfriend has vanished, someone more confident and commanding in his place. A sight to see, really. There’s only a few times you’re awarded the sight: when Eddie is navigating you through crowded bars with a steady hand pressed to your lower back, when Eddie is hosting his weekly DnD nights that you’ve earned a lifetime invite to, when Eddie is on a stage and entirely within his element as his first sweetheart hangs from his shoulders.

And whenever he has you like this, already compliant and doe-eyed, a toying smile tugging at your lips as you follow through with his demands. 

It’s a welcome switch, a welcome presence. 

“Good girl,” he awards you softly, and you have to choke back a giggle. 

He was just a stuttering mess, defending himself like a clumsy fool. An adorable dork pulling at your heart strings. And now, he’s a vision of assuredness. Of determination. 

It’s hot. It’s great. It’s enough to get your mind off the dwindling summer heat that rises around the lake’s perimeter. 

“So,” he continues, popping the lid off the cup finally. There’s not a sign of liquid nearing the rim of the cup where you can see, and your face twists in a bit of confusion, “Here’s what’s going to happen – here I have a wonderfully not melted cup of ice,” he tilts it, and you can finally see the pebbled ice cubes. Suddenly, the entire situation has become significantly less funny, “And you’re clearly in need of a cool down. See where I’m going with this, sweetheart?” 

You do. But it’s more fun to play dumb. 

“I don’t think I do,” you sigh out, stretching so that your tank top rises and exposes your midriff, “Might need a demonstration.” 

It’s a vibrant green light for him – he’s quick to set the cup aside and focus all his efforts on undressing you. Hands that are still shaking – because it’s Eddie and his hands will always shake when it comes to you – and eager fingers tracing lines over your hips before he fiddles with the button of your jean shorts. Taking his time with each caress, murmuring words that strike flames within the pit of your stomach, a more welcome internal warmth than what the summer offers. 

He pauses once the shirt and shorts have been discarded, and you almost think for a moment, he might begin to pepper soft kisses across your exposed skin. 

He doesn’t. 

He grabs the styrofoam cup once more instead, keeping eye contact with you as he pulls an ice cube out. Before he formally places it between his lips, he pauses, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes as he instructs, “Think you can stay still for me, baby?” 

Funny how easy it is to turn to stone until someone requests it of you. 

The ice cube is slotted between his lips, pretty and pink as they wrap around the salvation that quickly starts to melt. A drip of water is already running down his chin by the time he’s leaning down over your body, not yet touching your spasming abdomen, just hovering as he watches the way your body fights against his instruction. 

No words are needed – even if he could speak with the ice in his mouth – as his eyes flick up to yours. Arson umber pupils that command you silently. 

Stay still, they whisper. And you try to – you really, really try to. 

The first drop of cold water hits your skin as it shakes from restraint, from stuttering breaths, from anticipation. He’s teasing you; he’s taking his time as he grows closer and closer to properly pressing the cube and his lips against you. You swear, for just a moment, this entire grand idea was doing the opposite of its purpose. Heat was radiating off of you in waves, with no plans of cooling down any time soon. 

And then his lips are on your skin. 

Sweet relief, chills racing down the spine, a sigh slipping past your lips as your back arches desperately. He’s pinpointed the exact center between your hips, just below your navel, with everything you’ve begun to crave. Lips losing their heat with every passing second and the tip of the cube trail around in a lazy circle as he keeps looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, corners of his mouth twitching with the temptation of a smile when your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair. You have half the mind to completely undo his already ruined bun – you have half the mind to guide him to exactly where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” you gasp out, voice barely a hiccup over the cicadas. It feels nice, it feels good. 

The stifle of the van’s air is all but forgotten as he just keeps trailing the ice along your skin, letting it slowly melt until there’s nothing left but the remnants of a chill on his tongue and lips. And he takes those frozen lips, quickly putting them to use as he lets them drag along a pathway to your left hip. No rush. You’ve both got all the time in the world as he presses a hard kiss to that hip, lips pursing and sucking a bit before he shifts to make his way to the right one instead. 

Teasing, taunting, relieving. 

By the time he’s made it to the other hip, the heat has begun to creep back up. 

“You look real pretty like this, you know?” he asks you, hand shooting out blindly to get another ice cube, “Just laying here for me, sighing all cutely and shit,” your fingers tighten in his hair, “Oh, do you like that, baby? Like me calling it how I see it?” 

It’s in his confident tone. The buzz shooting straight through your brain that drowns out the sounds of summer when he talks to you like this. Every syllable has you preening for more of his affection, his attention, his approval. 

You’re finally dizzy with want and need rather than summertime sickness. 

“You’re a fucking vision,” his breath is hot against you as he says it, waiting for just a moment before he lifts up and yanks his shirt off with boyish charm. When he settles back between your legs, he makes a point to lay the backs of your bare thighs against his naked shoulders, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, “I would do anything for you. Fucking anything. Say the word, and it’s yours.” 

Right as he places another ice cube in his mouth, dropping cool fingertips that are wet with condensation to trail from the peak of your knee and down, you take him at his word.

You say the word. 

“Kiss me,” you beg.

“Where?”

Not a taunt. Just a clarification. The game is up, and you both know it.

“There.”

“We’re not teenagers,” he snorts, voice a bit garbled as he passes the ice from cheek to cheek, “Use your big girl words.” 

This time, your hand is his hair does remove the bun entirely, hairtie lost somewhere recklessly to be found later as thick curls wrap around your fist. “Jesus Christ, I want you to kiss me on my fucking pussy, Eddie. Is that what you want to hear? Quit teasing and-” 

“Your pussy?” he interrupts, eyes darkening ever so slightly, tsking slightly, “No, no. That won’t do. Because from what I can see, this pussy is mine, sweetheart. She’s purring for me right now, dripping like these damn ice cubes-”

“Then kiss me on your damn pussy.”

Another ice cube is slotted between his lips, one you hadn’t noticed him grabbing, and he does exactly as he’s told. 

The cold shocks you initially, nearly making your hips jump away from his touch entirely. But you can’t as his forearm comes over to rest across the hips he’d just worshiped, other hand tightly gripping onto the flesh of any thigh he can grab onto, pulling you tighter and closer to him. 

The same circles he had just trailed beneath your navel return in a new location, skimming your clit now. 

“Oh my God,” you whine, shoulder blades digging into the uncomfortable surface of the van’s floor below the makeshift padding of blankets, “Please, please.” 

He doesn’t tease you and ask you to spell out what you’re imploring of him this time. What small bit of the ice was left in his mouth slips out, slowly trailing down, down, down. Lighting a path of incessant mercy along its way as it skirts around your clit, ending up nearly slipping inside of you as it slows at your entrance. 

A cold, freezing trail of water left behind, and Eddie’s hot tongue is quick to follow it in reverse. 

He deliberately keeps it flat, avoiding filling you where you want it most. 

He’s still taking his time, moving slower than the cube has as he laps at your folds steadily. One long stride, and you’re squirming. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill that the ice had left behind sends you whirling, stomach clenching as you let out more little gasps. 

It only eggs him on. 

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue to finish his path, moving back only to take a sharp breath of his own before his lips wrap around it and suck. 

The steady rhythm of suction elicits countless moans from you, all trailing off into desperate whispers, both hands fully buried in Eddie’s curls as he has to fight harder to keep your hips pressed down. Praises of his name, pants of keep going. Your vision blurs in a way that doesn’t send panic through your bones, and you welcome the tunnel vision as he lets go of his grip around your thigh to press his fingertips against your entrance. 

He mumbles something, a reverberating hum that has you clenching around nothing, but he’s not willful enough to take his mouth off you long enough to properly enunciate. 

“What - ah - what was that?” you breathe out, hardly able to get the words out around your pants as you feel that pressure building between your hips, desperate for release. 

Willpower in overdrive, he pulls himself away from being buried against you, “I said, I want you to come for me, sweetheart.” 

To emphasize his point, he plunges in two fingers, curling them in a petting motion that spells out your demise. 

Your body reacts to the words before your brain can catch up. That pressure, the ever growing knot building, building, building – it snaps within a second of his lips finding your clit again. 

His fingers, knuckle deep in your cunt. His nose, buried in your bush. The cold, still lingering with a vengeance against the odds. 

The sensory overload does you in. You feel weightless, unaware of just how hard you’re tugging on his curls or the slight rhythm he’s built with his own hips against the blankets below. The high rushes over you, drowning out everything in its path and wrapping you up just as the summer warmth had previously. And he’s relentless, carrying you through every wave, never once faltering. 

You understand what he’d said earlier – you’re glad no one can hear you at this moment as you throw away any false God and only say prayers in Eddie’s name. 

White vision fades to black, and your entire body goes slack as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion. The sweat covering your body almost offers some relief as a breeze wiggles its way through the van’s back doors.

He crawls back up your body slowly, coming home to the space you allot him as you further spread your trembling thighs and he peppers the lightest of sincere kisses up your ribcage. Warm lips you feel drawing roadways until he’s finally lining them up your neck, your cheeks, your own hot lips. 

“Still with me?” 

You only hum in response, hand feeling blindly to lightly caress his bare back. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, breath fanning out against your temple as he places a last few kisses, just because. 

When you finally force your heavy lids back open, you’re welcomed to the sight of whiskey eyes and a soft nose, shining for a reason only the two of you know. You swear, you can’t decipher if the pink smattering across his cheeks and bridge of his nose is from the heat, or from a  proper blush at the sight of you. 

It makes your insides melt more than any hot summer day. 

“It worked,” is all you laugh out, pads of your fingers still pressing softly into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades, a weak attempt to bring him closer. 

“It worked?” 

“You took my mind off the heat.” 

His lashes might be fluttering even more than your own, hips lowering against yours, heavy and bated as you come back down to Earth. You swear he’s never been prettier than he is right now, with you all over his mouth and bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat. 

You almost card your fingers through them, expose the spanse of skin beneath just to offer the softest of kisses in return to him. Almost. 

“Good,” he grins with a boyish mirth, looking overly accomplished, “Did you ever even doubt me?” 

“Maybe.”

Your teasing tone has him poking out a tongue that’s a few shades lighter of purple than before, him finally rolling his body off of the top of yours. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he jokes, throwing his head back as your eyes follow. You can see a bead of sweat making its way down his cheekbone, slipping away into his hairline, “And then I’ll fuck that doubt away.” 

Your stomach flutters as your eyes wander, taking in his exposed neck, following the creases in his skin down his chest. The way his stomach shakes a little with each breath, and the way you zero in on each quiver of that dark line of hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the band of his pants. 

The very obvious, very strained bulge within his pants. 

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind. 

You sit up a bit faster than is smart, and you ignore the stars in your vision as you quickly situate yourself to perch by his hip. He starts to lift himself back up, hands already flying out to keep you steady, but you only swat them away as you lean over him to grab an ice cube out of the styrofoam cup. 

“I think I’ll need more than a minute,” you lie, pressing him back down fully, movements full of determination as he watches you with hooded eyes, “How about for now, I give you a taste of your own medicine, pretty boy?” 

The ice is slotted between your own lips, and the whine Eddie lets out is answer enough.

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。3:37 AM — ITOSHI SAE.

“see? i told you this would be fun,” you hum.

“fun for you, maybe. you get to sit and do nothing. i’m the one driving,” sae gives you a side glare—one that he’s sure you see but elect to ignore in favor of picking the next song on your phone.

if you’d told him half a year ago that he’d be here, giving up sleep to drive you to god knows where in the middle of the night, sae thinks he might have actually laughed—which is something he doesn’t do very often. he’s a bit appalled with himself, truthfully—it’s half past three, way past his usual sleep hours, and he has practice in the morning. yet somehow, he almost thinks he’s having fun.

and then he comes to the daunting realization that he’s really not sure who he even is anymore.

athletes like the itoshi sae need to follow strict regimens. athletes like him need at least eight hours of sleep a day, need balanced diets and a healthy amount of exercise, and need to be level headed and make responsible decisions. athletes like him don’t stay up this late because of one measly pout and a tug to his arm. there’s no reason that sae should be this weak to you, no reason you should hold this much power over him—and yet, in a cruel twist of fate, you do.

you do and you know it, and you’re evil enough that you use it to your full advantage.

“where are we even going?”

“sae, shut up,” you roll your eyes. “why do you always have something to say?”

scoffing, he stops the car at a red light, pressing on the brakes and turning to face you. and he hates to admit it, but the moonlight kissing your skin through the windows makes his heart beat rapidly.

“do you realize i’m sacrificing my sleep for you?” he scoffs at you, looking over at the small patch of skin of your shoulder blade as his shirt droops over your body. he tries not to stare too long—but he fails miserably, and you seem to notice it too.

“quit staring at me,” you smirk, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

he swats your hand away—though gently—and scowls, grumbling under his breath at your supposed claim. you only offer him an amused giggle as he rolls his eyes, and no matter how correct you may be, itoshi sae refuses to admit, even to himself, that he was in fact staring. in his defense, how could he not stare when you look like that in his clothing?

“was not staring at you, stupid.”

“you so were,” you laugh, and he grunts, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at you unimpressed. it’s a battle that costs him just about all of his self control to not glance down at your lips, but he wins—although miraculously, otherwise, he’d have to hear even more of your teasing, and he doesn’t think his eyes will recover from another round of rolling this time.

“no i wasn’t. that head of yours is too big,” he says, frowning and flicking your forehead at the smug grin you give him. and sae should be asleep, he should be getting enough rest to ensure his optimal performance at practice in the morning so that he can put his teammates efforts to shame—but you said please, and you pouted, and he’s not as strong as he claims to be, although he’ll never admit it.

so now he’s here, and he’s fighting for his dignity as you wiggle your brows playfully at him. but deep down, sae doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere else right about now.

“okay, if you say so,” you snort, “you’ll survive without eight hours of sleep for one day. and by the way, the light’s green now, dumbass. pay attention.”

he hears your giggling as he curses under his breath and presses on the gas pedal, and you slide your hand over his shoulder to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. he pretends to lean back and try to shake your hand off, but you both know it’s his way of leaning further into your touch—so you grant him more of what he craves, rubbing over the back of his neck soothingly as he drives.

“okay, well you’re supposed to be giving me directions, so where do i go now?” he mutters. you shrug, and he groans.

“i don’t know, i’ve been making up directions this whole time. just wanted to drive around. anyway, did you know van gogh’s starry night was painted from his window in an asylum?”

side eyeing you, he purses his lips, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. and even if you’ve dragged him out of bed for no reason—on a practice night no less—while he’s supposed to be getting much needed rest, he can’t help but find every annoying little quirk of yours endearing. even this one.

“what does that have to do with anything?” he asks flatly.

and sae is not an easy book to read, he never was—he’s like those difficult words you have to stop and google to understand, or those ridiculous metaphors that only literature teachers care for. but he’s well worth it, you think. he makes you want to skip the pages and jump right to the end, and he’s the kind of story you pray ends happily. and somehow, when he climbs out of bed in his wrinkled shirt and loose sweats, hair tousled and sleep laced in his eyes as he begrudgingly grabs his keys for you—you think maybe you don’t want the story to end at all just yet. or ever.

“just a fun fact, jeez,” you pout. “any soccer fun facts you wanna share?”

“athletes need plenty of sleep to perform their best,” he shoots instantly. you huff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms at his stubbornness to just admit he enjoys being here as much as you do.

“sae, one of these days you’ll drive me so crazy, i’ll need to be in an asylum myself.”

“one of these days, when i send you to an asylum, maybe i can sleep reasonable hours,” he smirks at you. the soft slap to his shoulder causes him to chuckle in amusement, and you cave and send the softest of grins at his direction.

“you’ll never last a day without me,” you quip, and to your surprise, he smiles a little. it’s gentle—much gentler than you expect from someone like him, and you’re not used to it. but it’s pretty, just like the rest of itoshi sae, and you hope fate permits a few more nights with him by your side, whether it’s in bed as he sleeps or in the car as he drives. maybe, you’ll even dare to hope for an eternity.

“i don’t know,” he hums, and one hand lays gently on your thigh as he drives mindlessly with the other on the wheel, “i think i could manage to squeeze in ten hours of sleep if you were gone,” he adds with smug grin, and even as you scowl at him, you decide right then and there that if itoshi sae isn’t your happy ending, you don’t think you want one. ever.

“you’re rude, y’know that?”

“i’d say driving aimlessly for your stupid whims is rather generous.”

“hmm, maybe,” you murmur, looking at him with a look so sweet, he feels his breath catch in his throat when he peeks at you through the corner of his eyes. and he hopes you don’t notice it, or the way his expression softens too. “love you,” you add quietly, lifting his hand to kiss the back.

“yeah,” he mumbles. “love you too.” you lace your fingers with his, setting his hand back down onto your lap. he squeezes gently, and you squeeze back. “i love it more when you sleep, though.”

i think sae rly likes driving tbh. finds it relaxing and if u play with the hair at the nape of his neck he loves it more. he’s pathetically a loser

[forsoobado137]

SO Canada got kidnapped by a suburban mom?

Yeah technically. Canada's car broke down. This was before the days of cellphones and shit so he couldn't really call someone to pick him up. Then, this nice middle-aged lady named Barbara offered him a ride. During the drive, she started talking about her life and her kids leaving for college and her dog etc. Canada kinda got to know her and she seemed really kind.

Halfway through the conversation, Canada was like "wait a minute, Barbara's been driving for 30 minutes and this is not my destination." Before he said anything, She offered to buy him some beer when she stopped for gas. While she was in the store, and Canada was all conflicted because on one hand, he wanted to go home. On the other hand, free beer.

Barbara came back with the beer, and Canada checked the can before drinking it. He noticed her pulling up by a small house in a nice neighbourhood. Barbara wanted him to come in and she'd make him some dinner. It was almost midnight and cold as balls outside, so Canada was like "It'd be rude to refuse, eh?"

She made him a delicious casserole, Canada watched a bit of TV, and he fell asleep on the couch. Next morning, he woke up and was like "I should really get going." But then Barbara was like "Oh...but I made you breakfast!" It would be rude to say no, so he ate breakfast (which was also pretty good).

Then, Canada noticed that all the doors were barricaded. But still he's like "I'm already here I can't leave..." Barbara admitted that she wanted him to stay because she hated seeing a young man like him so stressed all the time in his public appearances.

A couple days later, authorities had found Canada's abandoned car. There was this massive search party for him. They suspected terrorists, political enemies, and people who wanted ransom money. While all of this was going on, Canada was just chilling at Barbara's house watching TV and eating mac n' cheese with a foreboding feeling that this situation was really serious. But he just couldn't bring himself to try and leave so impolitely. After all, Barbara was so sweet, and she seemed so lonely.

Then the police found him and there was a bit of a stalemate between them and Barbara before Canada was like "Welp, I think I should head out now before you get in trouble." Barbara relented, but only if he finished his beer and brought some leftover lasagna with him. Canada left, Barbara got arrested, and unfortunately the lasagna got confiscated by authorities.

[nomazee]

enough to make me cry

blade is your only roommate, your only friend, and your only way home from this terrible party you found yourself in.

blade x gn reader — 3.3k — college & roommates au!, very americanized college experiences, frat parties, mentions of drinking & vomiting, could be read as platonic but there are definitely romantic undertones, feelings of inadequacy/being out of place, hurt/comfort, social anxiety, blade is probably ooc i'm gonna be so honest, mild kafka & reader friendship, erggg im probably missing something

notes: no i have to be so honest blade is probably completely out of character i have not played a single side quest with him in it but i just think he has reluctant roommate-to-best friend potential and i wanted to pour that into a fic,,, this is mostly unintelligible but i did proofread! love you all

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and the first thing that you think is Blade’s hands are supposed to be cold.

It’s really pathetic. You’re somewhere in a stupid frat house, the thrumming of music around you. There’s the flashing colors and sounds of Mario Kart on the TV, the smell of puke (probably yours) and corona lite, and a hand on your shoulders that you’ve discerned is not your roommate, Blade’s. 

Looking to the side, you follow the hand (painted, manicured nails, definitely still not Blade’s), and it leads up to an arm up to a shoulder up to a face, and—oh. 

“You’re—” you pause, getting your words in order before you puke them up, “you’re Blade’s pretty lady friend?” It’s supposed to come out as a statement, but leans more to a question. She looks down, a bit of a teasing grin on her face, but her eyes are a little soft so you trust her. 

“Is that what he calls me?” she jokes.

“No, I’m— I came up with that.” If you had any dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed to admit that to her. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure that Kafka (the pretty lady friend in question) just held your hair back and wiped your face as you puked into a frat-house toilet, flushing your dignity away with your dinner. Your eyes burn with tears and mortification, and you pray that only Kafka saw your embarrassing mishaps.

“I called him to pick you up,” she tells you, already looking away from you and scanning the room as if looking for something, or someone. “I would take you home myself, but I’ve got some things to take care of. And I’m assuming you didn't bring your keys with you?” 

A quick pat-down of your pockets confirms that, yes, you somehow managed to leave your keys at home, the one personal necessity that you were supposed to bring besides your phone. Which, thankfully, you do at least have.

“Umm, the…” you mutter, tongue tangling uselessly as you try to find a way out of here without facing the impending doom of Blade’s aggravated scolding and his I told you so’s. 

A week ago, you went to him with an invite to this frat party and begged him to come with you, saying something like You don’t go out much, this is your chance! He’d adamantly refused, calling it a bad idea and rolling his eyes whenever you brought it up. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to have a fun college experience, so you forced him to drive you to the party with the promise of paying for his next gas payment and getting your own ride back home at the end of the night. 

“I can go,” you finally tell Kafka, mind stringing along memories and thoughts and alarm bells of get your ass home before you have to sit in an awful car ride with Blade, “It’s, like, a fifteen minute walk, don’t call him.” 

“It’s a little too late for that, kid,” Kafka drawls, amusement in her words. She’s smiling down at you, and you’re reminded of how small you feel. “He’s already on the way.” 

“No!” you protest, a little too loudly, but not loud enough to be heard over the thumping of music and bodies and voices. “It’s— Kafka, please, just tell him to turn around, I really don’t want him to deal with me today.” 

If you knew her even less, you’d misinterpret the twitch in her expression as concern—but you’re not too dumb, so you read it as amusement. “Trust me, he’s not going to have a problem with that. You’ll be fine.” 

Whatever that means. Kafka’s too cryptic for your liking, but you won’t complain. She wiped up your vomit from the dirty bathroom tiles and stayed with you to make sure you didn't get trampled, and she didn't complain about any of that. In a week, when you have enough strength to face her again, you’ll treat her to a good, expensive, flaky pastry. She seems like the kind of person who would love those. 

Her phone buzzes with a text notification, and she clicks her tongue, standing up and pulling you with her. Her hand is still warm, seeping through the sleeve of your shirt as she takes you by the forearm, gentle but guiding. Your stomach churns at the thought of seeing Blade, the thought of him seeing you like this. Freshly-puked-out with a nasty stomachache all because of a party that he told you not to go to. 

You hold back your protests as Kafka leads you through the still-crowded frat house. What time is it? Has nobody gotten bored yet, seriously? At least you didn't kill the mood by running to the bathroom and weeping into the toilet. It seems like nobody noticed, except for Kafka, and you don’t know if that should make you feel comforted or just more upset. 

The cool air of the night hits you as you step through the front door, eyes tracking your feet as you walk down the concrete steps. You see the silhouette of Blade’s ugly blue car in your peripheral vision, but you don’t want to look up in fear of seeing the disappointment on his face so soon. He’s going to rip you a new one, and then call you a slob and kick you out of the apartment and say I can’t have a party fiend living with me even though this was your first party ever, honest. 

You barely register that you’ve reached the passenger side of Blade’s car, only coming back to awareness when Kafka opens the door for you and starts nudging you into the seat. A really pathetic part of you wants to grab onto her arm and cry hard enough that she just relents and lets you walk home, but you’re already half into the passenger seat, looking everywhere but Blade. 

“Take care of them, won’t you, Bladie?” Kafka commands lightly, her hand leaving your arm as you get situated and buckled up in the car. Blade lets out a little huff in response and your stomach sinks. He’s already annoyed. 

The car ride to your apartment is only five minutes at this time of night. You just have to survive five minutes in silence and pray that he doesn’t tear into you and scold you like a disappointed parent. A glance at the clock on the car’s console confirms that it’s half past midnight. What the fuck. What were you even doing at the party for that long, besides vomiting and crying? 

The car rumbles, exhaust sputtering a little bit as Blade pulls out from the side of the street and drives slowly, carefully, as if not to rattle you, and you really just want him to speed up and throttle the car around so you feel more guilty about waking him up in the middle of the night to come pick you up. Blade goes to bed at eleven, the latest. You can’t imagine why Kafka thought it would be a good idea to call him, of all people, but then you remember that you kind of don’t have any other friends on campus. Your chest tightens at the thought. 

Blade makes some kind of sniffling noise, his way of trying to initiate some kind of conversation. There’s not even any music playing, because he always drives in dead silence because he’s abnormal, and on any other day you’d tease him about it like you always do. You see him turn his head to you in the corner of your eye, but you refuse to acknowledge him. You wish he’d just start scolding you, yelling at you or something. 

Tears prickle behind your eyes, painfully so, but your hands tighten around each other in your lap as you will yourself to not cry like a baby in front of your roommate. He lets out another sigh, but it doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and somehow that makes you feel worse. 

“What were you guys even drinking?” is his question of voice, and it’s the one question you didn't want him to ask, and you can’t help it when the tears spill over and you bring your hand up to wipe them away frantically, hiccuping a little bit as your gut churns. 

“What—” Blade stutters, and he never stutters, and you see him whip his head around to look at you, crying into your hands over a simple question, and you just want to leave the car and walk home like you told Kafka you would do. He pulls over to the side of some residential street. There’s a dog barking in a yard and wind chimes clinking together, and you think of your handmade bottle cap wind chime hung in the balcony of yours and Blade’s apartment, and it just makes you cry more. 

The car comes to a full stop. Blade puts it in park and turns completely to you. You spare a quick glance at him through the gaps between your fingers, and there’s something like worry on his face, which you’ve never seen before. His face is pinched, lips parted as if wanting to say something, but he can’t. He’s waiting for you. 

“I didn't drink anything, Blade,” you sob, feeling miserable at the state of yourself, at how you went to a frat party with nobody you knew and just walked around like a lost child, too scared to drink or talk to anyone, too anxious to say a word. “Not even a shot, or a sip, nothing from the fridge. It was so stupid, you were right, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have gone.” Your breath catches in your throat, and the car is dead quiet as Blade lets your words sink in. 

You try not to make so much noise when you cry, but you’re sniveling and wiping your face and wishing that he would just stop looking at you like that. You can still see the ruby-red of his eyes even when you can’t bear to look up at him, and it makes you so viscerally upset. 

Blade is beautiful, really, and it makes you so upset that he looks better than you right now despite him being dragged right out of bed by Kafka’s phone call with a request to pick you up just minutes ago. You, who spent hours selecting an outfit, just to feel inadequate and wholly ugly the minute you walked through the door. It felt like you were back in middle school, spending hours with your parents picking out an outfit to a school dance, looking through ties and pants and shoes, just to show up and feel both overdressed and underdressed, feel like a fool, feel like you just can’t look the way everyone else does. Like something is always a little wrong. 

“Kafka said that you got sick. You didn't drink anything? You’re sure?” 

“No,”  you confirm pitifully, wanting him to just drop the topic and drive the rest of the way home and never talk about this again. “I was just anxious, and I puked like an idiot. Kafka helped me, she was the only one that I knew at the party. I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I was just anxious.” 

He says your name, not unkindly, but with a prying tone that just makes a fresh wave of tears stream down your face in rivulets. “Why would you go if you didn't know anyone?” 

“I don't know!” you shout, heated with embarrassment. You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and crying and shouting in Blade’s car. The seatbelt is too tight on you. You fiddle with it, pulling it from the juncture of your neck and shoulder and loosening it, scratching your bitten nails against the scratchy cloth and looking out of the car window so that you can avoid Blade’s awful, terrible, intrusive gaze. 

“I just wanted to be normal, or something. I don’t know anybody from any of my classes. I don’t talk to anyone from my major. And then I got the invite for the party somehow and I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, Blade, I know I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” he says firmly, fully turned to you now, as if he wants you to look back at him, to listen to whatever he’s going to say, and that’s the one thing you don’t want to do. You hate that he’s being kind. You wish he’d be sarcastic and mean and cruel, bite into you and feed off your self-pity. But he’s being nice, nice in the same way that he’s nice when he buys the right brand of milk for you (because the others make you sick, and the taste is different), or when he drives you places in his car when it’s raining so that you don’t have to take the buses everywhere, or when he comes home with your ridiculous coffee order that costs a hellacious amount of money with all of your substitutions and additions and flavorings. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says resolutely, leaving no room for argument, “Just— I didn't know you were feeling like that. I would’ve gone with you if you told me you needed someone. I assumed you were going with a friend.” 

You don’t respond with I don’t have any friends, because you’re pretty sure that’s clear enough by now, and you don’t want to confirm what’s already been confirmed a million times over just from the way you act. The way you cling to yours and Blade’s apartment, the way you never spend a second longer than you need to in any of your classes, the way that sometimes, when Blade goes out for class or work, you sit on the couch in silence with your laptop out, doing your work for the week and checking the clock and taking naps so that you don’t have to feel so alone for so long. 

“You didn't want to go,” you say instead, “I wasn’t going to make you just because I’m— I don’t know.” 

“I would’ve gone for you,” he tells you, really tells you, with a force in his words, like he wants to drive the point into you with a stake, driven right through your heart. “I would do a lot of things if you asked. You just need to ask.” 

You don’t— you really don’t want to think about what that means. What he means. You rip your eyes away from the car window and turn to face him. He’s not too close. You almost wish he could be closer, but you would suffocate under the pressure in your stomach and behind your eyes. 

He shouldn’t say things like that, things like You just need to ask, because you’d ask for a lot if given the chance. You’d ask for him to come to parties with you, stay by your side, let you put a hand on his shoulder and guide him around another disgusting frat house as if you know what you’re doing. You’d ask him to sleep in the same bed as you some nights, just a foot away from each other, backs turned to each other but still close enough that you can feel the unnatural coldness that radiates off of Blade. 

You’d ask him to introduce you to Kafka and that other girl they hang out with, to say something stupid and funny like This is my abhorrent roommate, be nice to them, and that way you’d have more contacts in your phone that aren't just Blade and your parents and two old high school friends who you haven’t spoken to in a year. You’d ask him to be a lot more than just a plus-one to a party full of people you’ve never met. 

“I just want to go home,” you breathe out, a guilty confession burning your gums and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying sorry,” he asserts for the second time tonight, making your lungs squeeze as you puff out a tired exhale. Blade turns back in his seat, taking the car out of park and heading back onto the road—driving slowly, yet again, avoiding cracks and potholes in the road. “You need to eat something. You’ll wake up with a hellish headache if you go to bed dehydrated.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I said it, so it’s true,” he says petulantly, turning the car down into a road that’s definitely not in the direction of your apartment building. To your hidden delight, the glowing sign of a twenty-four-seven ice cream store comes into view, and you sit up just a little bit. Blade slows the car as he turns into the drive-thru, glancing at you with an eyebrow half-raised. 

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” 

“I don’t have my wallet,” you admit, just a little bit embarrassed. “I didn't even bring my keys with me. Do you think they take Apple Pay?” 

A breathy laugh escapes him, and you catch sight of a dimple pressed into his cheek, and you want to press your thumb into it and look at his smile, just for a little longer. “Don’t be dumb. I’m paying,” he tells you, the same way he has every time he pays for your cafe drink, or when he comes home from work with your favorite, and says You’re broke enough without having to pay for these drinks, don’t pay me back in that snippy way he shows his care. 

You ask for a medium vanilla milkshake, with sprinkles, and he gets you a large instead, which you’re more than grateful for. He refuses to let you look at the receipt for the total cost, and hands you the milkshake with a comical severity that you often see in him. The sweet drink washes away any bitter taste left in your mouth, and you feel a little better, a little nicer in your haphazard party outfit and under Blade’s fleeting gaze. 

A deep sigh escapes you, one of relief, when the car finally parks at your apartment building. Blade puts a cold hand between your shoulder blades, unobtrusive and leading, and it’s a comforting contrast from the heat lingering on your skin from the party and the closed car. It feels right, more in-place than Kafka’s warm hands were when she wiped your face and kept you steady, though she was just as gentle. 

Blade all but tosses you onto the couch, claiming that it’s much too late for a shower and he’d rather not deal with you collapsing from exhaustion in the tub. You relent easily, the exhaustion of the night hitting you and soaking into your limbs. 

“I’ll let you sleep on the couch,” he says, and it’s a good and kind thing, because he knows that sometimes you hate your bedroom because it’s just too empty, and the constant sound filtering into the living room puts you at ease. He never lets you sleep on the couch, because it’s bad for your back, and he jokes about you developing adult onset scoliosis with the awful way you sleep. Letting you do it, just this once, is another one of his small mercies. 

The TV is on, humming at a low volume, and your legs are thrown across Blade’s lap. You’re shocked that he’s willing to fall asleep with you like this, but he’s kind, sarcastic and biting but kind all the same, as much as he loathes to admit it. It’s not too lonely, you decide, hearing the bottle cap wind chimes on your balcony clink together in dissonant harmonies. 

(There’s a missing text from a new contact on your phone when you wake up, coming from pretty lady friend, extending an invite to brunch in two days, and you kick your legs on the couch in giddy excitement, thinking about how you’ll rope Blade into coming with you, too.)

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

[isa-ghost]

you have eggza headcanons perhaps? 👉👈

I will take any headcanons of course, I love your headcanon posts

Previous Sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

MORE: Eggza Edition

Starting with two I made in previous sets:

When left to his own devices & off-duty as dad + not needed by any of the islanders for something serious, he let's loose. No more wise bad bitch crow man who's palpably emotionally damaged yet won't admit it. He's off the shits. You've seen Eggza. That's him de-stressing by fully indulging his favorite things: preparing necessities for survival & being an absolute wildcard.

When he heard someone on the island made up a rumor that Eggza is legit because Phil taste-tested a cookie out of curiosity, he took that and RAN. Yeah. He's egg sometimes. Who's his parent you ask? Well that's a secret (it's Rose).

Remember how I said he commits to bits super hard? Yeah. Eggza is his second biggest bit after the 4th Wall existentialism but it's quickly surpassing it to his biggest one

Genuinely he enjoys his Eggza time. Everyone knows they'll get nothing but task help out of him more or less, so they more or less leave him alone unless it's to say hi or a chance encounter.

Everyone finds him speaking with signs funny and endearing. Except Tubbo. But that's understandable, dyslexia go brr. Even though the fool sometimes forgets he can tts the signs. It's fine, he's most likely to derail Eggza's cookie grinding so it's better if Tubbo stays away doing Tubbo things

He's torn between the kids witnessing Eggza & never witnessing Eggza. He can't tell what's funnier or if he'd be embarrassed. They've heard stories from other eggs though

He has no interest in making himself Look like an egg. The sign usage is all he needs. And its funnier when you approach your grown ass man best friend Philza Minecraft only for him to look as wild as he did during Purgatory but without the Looks Like He's Dying Slowly part & refuse to talk to you verbally. The "what the fuck is happening here" is the best part of Eggza, if he starts LOOKING like an egg everyone will understand what's going on and that's lame

He bounces off everyone's energy. The more unhinged they are, the more unhinged he is. Unless he's harassing the baker. Then he fuels his own fuckery

The funny thing is he makes sure everyone thinks he's constantly this wild gremlin that only knows one thing: Grind. But really if no one's around while he's grinding, he's actually just straight up vibing. Got headphones in, blasting his jams, doin his work. In his lane, unbothered, flourishing.

I would sell my soul to see Eggza beat the ever-loving shit out of Purgatory workers it'd be so fucking funny holy shit

One of his favorite parts of going Eggza Mode is amusing his friends with the way he's just a nonverbal weirdo. Especially when he answers something they say by just dancing

If He's An Extra Silly Gremlin They'll Give Him Avocado Toast As A Treat

No one knows where he shoos his crows off to when he's Eggza. Or if it's some unspoken "ok time to scatter" rule as soon as he puts the gas mask on by the bakery. But they disperse and for a while, the other islanders can't shake the feeling of Phil seeming strangely bare for some reason. It's bc the murder is away

Tbh I bet even without the Hardcore dreams, he'd sleep a long time with how hard he works as Eggza

"Hard work," I say, as if most of the time Phil isn't just making mobs insatiable amounts of horny so everyone can give the baker what they're asking for (the awareness of this is half of why he's so unhinged as Eggza, it's too absurd & funny to him)

Calling back to another prev non-Eggza hc I made, he has less of a filter when he's not parenting or in peril. He has said some absolutely wild out of pocket shit on signs

If given the right kind of motivation, an islander could probably get Eggza to go feral and kill something or someone. Fit tosses him a stack of whatever arbitrary item Phil might find enticing enough atm & Phil is suddenly on a spree like he was with those bunnies that one time

[colibrie]

Uncharted Territory, Part 2

Hello all! Sorry for the delay in updates. As always art credit and eternal gratitude to @trilobitepunch for her amazing art and her incredible patience.

Yakai system: 6 hours later

Mikey liked to think of himself as a turtle with many talents. With so many interesting things to do and experience in the universe, he’d never seen the point in limiting himself to just one hobby. He was a chef, an artist, and an acrobat. He was a jedi in training. He knew the importance of timing and strength. He had worked hard to cultivate balance, and perhaps most essentially, patience. Patience was the difference between a masterpiece and a disappointment. Patience was the difference between peace and agitation. Patience was the foundation of all things…

But his patience was three seconds away from socking Leonardo in the face.

“There’s a rock…and another rock…and, oh look, there’s even more rocks!”

“Thank you, Leo.”

“What? I’m just admiring the fascinating scenery,” Leo’s obnoxiously sour-sweet tone matched the sarcastic show of teeth in the smile he flashed. “You take me to the nicest places Angelo.”

Mikey pulled in a slow and subtle breath, fighting the urge to clench his jaw or bite his lip as he carefully maneuvered their ship around a small asteroid at the edge of a medium sized cluster. He knew what his elder brother was doing. He’d been doing it since he’d woken up crabby from his far too short nap, mood souring further when Mikey had refused to move from the pilot seat. He was trying to get under Mikey’s shell to provoke a reaction. Which really wasn't that unusual. There wasn’t a creature alive who could out petty Leo when he was in the mood to be difficult. The taller turtle seemed to have a sixth sense for spite, an innate talent that zeroed in on the most obnoxious and annoying elements of a situation then dialing them eleven.

It didn’t help that the environment beyond the view screen was the definition of desolation. The Yakai system was indeed comprised of a massive asteroid field, large chunks of dull grey rock stretched in all directions, dust and debris hanging limply in the space between. Two small planets sat lifelessly in the center of it all, surfaces dyed the by gas clouds of the sickliest yellow, green and cream. They were hues he would have immediately rejected from his palette, their image as appalling as they were disheartening. To top it off, the absence of wakes or other disturbances in the area suggested that no one had transversed the asteroid field in a long time.

Mikey was loath to admit it, but the hope that had burned so brightly inside him after their success with the holocron was slowly shrinking. The connection to that bonfire at his core was dwindling, heat leeched away by the seemingly ever-growing black hole of unanswered questions and unaddressed baggage trailing them. The violent introduction to his “deceased” brothers, the unsettled conflict between Leo and their father, the unusually vague details of their plan, and the anxious insecurity of meeting someone who had played such a pivotal role in their childhoods, but who’s image he could not call to mind, no matter how far back he dug in his memories. It was all starting to feel…heavy.

“Hate to say it baby bro, but it looks like this was a waste of-”

“We haven’t even checked half of the cluster!” Mikey snapped, cringing slightly as Leo locked onto the irritation in his voice.

“Running down every speck of dust isn’t going to make someone not here magically appear,” Leo argued, flashing an edged smirk that made Mikey want to kick him in the teeth.

He forced himself to relax, to soften his next words into something closer to a gentle tease. “Don’t count your smooka’s before they hatch Leo. I’d hate to have to embarrass you in it in front of Master Karai.”

George let out a happy chur from his place wrapped around Mikey’s neck, little head rubbing encouragingly against Mikey’s cheek.

“See? George thinks so too!”

“I don’t care what George thinks! George is a dumb animal who will do anything for a treat!” Leo snapped suddenly, the mood in the cabin plunging as an oppressive weight settled over it. Something alien was churning behind his brother’s irises as he struck them with a glare, something that made every nerve in Mikey’s body jolt. George cringed back, tail tightening as he chittered fearfully and under Mikey's chin for safety.

“Hey!” Mikey bristled, one hand coming up to protectively cover his friend as he returned Leo’s glare with one of his own. “You know who else doesn’t get a vote, the annoying raincloud who has contributed literally NOTHING to finding a solution to our problems! At least, I am trying! At least I am doing something other than whining “that’s not how it works!” repeatedly! And George didn’t do anything to you, so quit being a jerk!”

The tension grew as they stared each other down, metaphorical hackles rising as the siblings sized one another up. Mikey kept his face frozen in a stern scowl, pushing down the sympathetic twinge in his chest at how bloodshot his older brothers’ eyes were, how hollow they’d grown, lined with dark bags that were beginning to look like bruises. He wasn’t stupid, or blind. He knew how active his elder brother’s demons had been since leaving home, how the weight of their situation pressed down on Leonardo.

He’d wished a thousand times he knew how to help, but he didn’t. Usually, he could guess what the issue was, or prod the answers out of Leo after giving him some space and time. But those tactics weren’t working now. Up until recently, he'd known little to nothing about the missing half of his family. He still didn't know much about them, and Leo had remained frustratingly tight lipped, even though the past was clearly eating him alive.

The seeds of doubt were quick to bloom as the dark energy pressed in, a weed that threatened to choke off his inner fire as thoughts he’d pushed away for hours returned with a vengeance.

What if they didn't find anything? What if Master Karai wasn't here? What if he really was wasting their time and resources? What if he was wrong? what if....

What if he was just making things worse?

A soft coo broke the tension as George butted his head into Mikey’s throat, tiny body thrumming soothingly against his suddenly unsteady pulse. The gossamer soft sensation of unwavering trust and love poked at the edges of the bonfire inside of him, coaxing it to burn brighter in defiance against the darkness. It gave him the strength to push the doubts away again, to take another deep breath and focus only on the now.

Leo wanted a fight, but Mikey was not obliged to give him one. Maybe he couldn’t take away whatever was hurting his brother, but he could help keep things level until Leo was ready to share it. He pulled in two more breaths for good measure before speaking, careful to keep his tone calm but firm.

“I get that this has been stressful. I get that you are tired, and you don’t really want to be here. But that doesn’t give you carte blanche to be an ass. Especially to someone who can’t fight back. You’re better than that Leon.”

He kept face blank as that thing behind Leo’s eyes slowly faded away, the pressure lifting to be replaced by the lighter and more familiar signs of guilt. He kept himself still as Leo cringed and turned away to look out the viewscreen.

“…Yeah…I’m…”

A strident chime from the radar cut him off. The strain of their argument was swiftly shelved as they both leaned forward, foreheads nearly colliding in their haste to huddled in and study the steadily pulsing blip on the screen.

“There’s something over there! It’s in between those two big meteors!” Mikey exclaimed, pointing vigorously towards a cluster of oblong rocks off to the left of their view screen. “It has to be her, there’s a life support system attached to it!”

“Barely,” Leo huffed, squinting doubtfully at the readouts scrolling across the adjacent screen. “For an energy reading that low, life-support would have to be set to the bare minimum. Not great atmosphere for long time occupation.”

“But it could totally…” Mikey blinked, then groaned as Leo flashed him a tentative smile. “Omigosh, Lee that one was awful.”

“I think you mean awesome Miguel,” Leo shrugged, propping his chin on one fist as Mikey tried and failed to hide a snort. “I know, I know, my humor is a breath of fresh air. You’re welcome.”

“You are…so dumb…” Mikey spluttered in reply, any residual hard feelings clinging on from their spat offset by his own smile. Shell, Leo made it hard to stay mad at him.

“Thank you, thank you,” Leo said, sketching a half bow before blowing kisses to an imaginary audience. “I am here all week. And the week after that, and the week after-ack!”

“Nobody cares!” Mikey cheered as he pushed one hand into Leo’s face, laughing as his big brothers’ arms flailed in a comedic bid to maintain his balance. “Not when they can watch me, the daredevil Michelangelo, seamlessly thread the gauntlet of insane asteroids to investigate that signal!”

“Oooooh okay. Feeling bold today, are we? That looks kinda tricky,” Leo noted, casually leaning over to brace one forearm on the pilot’s chair.

“Absolutely! I’ve got this!”

“Alright big man,” Leo nodded slowly, gently tapping his knuckles against Mikey’s shoulder in a gesture that was both equal support and silent apology before sitting back. “Give it a shot. I am here if you need me.”

“I won’t,” Mikey replied, bouncing a little in his seat as he turned the shuttle towards their target. “Hold on to your shell!”

The engines roared under his touch, rocketing them towards the targeted cluster at heart pounding speed.

“COWABUNGA!”

“WHOAHOHO!” Leo yelled, gripping his seat with white knuckle strength as Mikey banked hard to avoid a chunk of debris.

Adrenaline fizzed in his veins, delight bubbling in his lungs as his heart started to dance in time to the thrum of the thrusters. This. This was the part of flying that Mikey actually liked. No fiddly procedures to remember, no gravity to pull or push him in ways he didn’t want to go. Space was like the ultimate acrobatics’ playground, open and empty and waiting to be filled with his amazing razzmatazz. Weaving and banking around corners, dipping down and rising up to avoid obstacles, even a spin or two thrown in for sheer flare, it all felt natural. It was fun!

Watching Leo slowly turn the same color as his arms stripes wasn’t bad either.

The radar pinged louder, and he eased the shuttle back into a steady cruising pace as Leo sat forward, sharp eyes scanning the surrounding asteroids in search of their target. Small stones tinged gently off the view screen as they drifted past, the only sound within the cockpit the increasingly strident bee-blip of the radar.

“There!”

Mikey’s head whipped around, eyes following Leo’s outstretched arm to their prize. Tucked into the shadows of a deep, craggy canyon was the faint outline of a structure surrounded by six smaller lumps.

“There’s a possible landing area on that ledge above the target, but there’s not a whole lot of room for error. Probably why the smugglers-”

“-or Master Karai-"

“-smugglers, chose this spot for their hideout. We’ll have to be careful with how we approach landing. Move over.”

“Nope, I’ve got it,” Mikey, pointing the shuttle nose towards their goal before pressing the controls down.

“Wait!”

He ignored his brothers’ objections as the shuttle responded to his command, nose dipping down sharply to aim towards the ledge. He did not need to be told what to do. He did not need to have his hand held. He could land the ship. Sweat gathered on his palms as the empty vacuum of space swiftly disappeared behind the craggy lips of the canyon walls.

“That’s a really steep approach, maybe pull it back a bit buddy….”

The engines whined as the ship sped onwards, outboard lights throwing jagged spires previously hidden by the gloom in into sharp relief. Sharp pricks of pain burst like fireworks as he dug his teeth into his lower lip, spine curving as he blocked Leo out and threw every shred of concentration into running the maze in front of him. He could do this. He could get them to the target. He could land the ship…

“Mikey, seriously…”

He could find Master Karai. He could become a Jedi. He could get his brothers back. He could …

“Michelangelo that’s way too steep! Pull up!”

The camp was in sight, the ground was growing, but somehow the ledge was shrinking. More rocks bounced off the viewscreen as the walls of the canyon closed in on all sides. Something cold and hard lodged in his throat as his hands slipped, skittering over the buttons as alarms started to shriek. His spine locked, limbs freezing as fear obliterated his thoughts with spikes of jagged grey.

He…He couldn’t…

“PULL UP!”

Blue burst through the grey as something slammed into his shoulder, forcing him halfway out of the pilot seat as iron hands clamped down on the controls. He gasped in shock, then scrambled to grab whatever he could as Leo hauled back hard on the yoke. The world spun as the shuttle jerked, banking into a tight vertical spiral as something hard screeched across the belly of the ship. Metal groaned and shuddered under the sudden strain as his big brothers’ hands danced lightning fast across the consul, shooting them back up into the void above.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Leo whooped, slumping back in relief once they were hovering a safe distance away from any debitage. “Now that was a rush!”

Michelangelo stayed on the floor, chest heaving and body shaking as he stared at the ceiling. Everything felt surreal, like he was only connected to his body by a heart that felt like it was trying to jump into hyperdrive. His lungs felt shriveled, unable to take a full breath. When had it gotten so cold? Was the air truly that thin? Had he compromised the hull in his stupid stunt? Were they in danger of collapse?

“You going to stay down there all…Angelo?”

His eyes stung as they filled with salt, and no amount of blinking managed to clear them. He had messed up. He’d dragged them out here and nearly gotten them killed and…

"Hey, c’mon bro, don’t make that face," Leo cajoled, gentle hands lifting Mikey up to stand on somewhat wobbly legs. Bright green fingers softly grabbed the lip of Mikey's plastron before giving him a gently encouraging shake. "So, you almost spectacularly whiffed a landing that could have majorly damaged the shuttle or injured us, leaving us stranded in a force forsaken asteroid field in the middle of nowhere..."

"Oh wow, thanks Lee. I feel so much better, " Mikey mumbled thickly, shooting a halfhearted glare that turned into a fully affronted scowl when Leo responded by flicking him between the eyes.

"As I was about to say, so what if it almost happened? It didn't, and it won't, because I'm here."

Leo was smiling at him when Mikey chanced another glance up, a smile that oozed confidence and compassion as he slung a sheltering arm around Mikey's shoulders.

“We’re okay Angelo."

"I really thought I had it this time. I thought I could…I just wanted to help…Why is it so hard?!" Mikey groaned, leaning into the comfort as Leonardo pulled him into his chest. Leo's heartbeat was strong and steady under his tympanum, its slightly elevated rhythm methodically walking Mikey's own heart back from its attempts to escape his rib cage.

"Can't be good at everything big man," Leo consoled, planting a gentle kiss on his baby brother’s forehead. "And you help in so many ways! Believe me, I could not do this without you Mikey. You’ll figure out flying eventually, I have no doubt. In the meantime, maybe listen to your talented, brilliant, and handsome big brother, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mikey sighed, leaning back. "Thanks for letting me try Leon."

"Any time. Now, I’ve gotta to run some checks and land us, but why don't you go get the oxygen masks out and prep them to go for a spin."

"Will we need them? Life support still reads as active," Mikey asked as he absently shook the remaining adrenaline from his limbs.

"Trust but verify Michelito. This face is far too pretty to trust to some jury-rigged smuggler set up," Leo replied, breezily tossing his mask tails over his shoulder with a wink.

"Please, it would be an improvement!"

"Rude! Jealousy is not a great color on you Mikey!"

"We'll let Master Karai be the judge of that once we find her!" Mikey shot back, smiling slightly as he made his way to the back of the ship.

He had to stretch to his tiptoes to open the cabinet and retrieve the masks Splinter had jury-rigged for them ages ago. “For emergencies” their father had said, voice as worn as his robes when he'd held their little squirmy bodies still to adjust and ensure the blue and orange straps fit. Though the thick coating of dust on both masks attested to how little use they’d received, colored elastics faded and muted with age, the sight of these little tokens of their fathers’ love was like being wrapped up in one of his warm hugs.

“She’ll side with me.”

“Keep dreaming kiddo.”

Their banter was as familiar and comfortable, jokes and sly digs baniahing the shadows of tension and doubt with bright laughter as Leo carefully brought them back into the confines of the canyon for a smooth landing on the ledge.

“Alright, here is the plan,” Leo called, swinging out of the pilots chair and moving back to the back with an easy swagger in his step. “We are going to pop out, give the place a quick once over in full stealth style. We don’t find anything, or if we find anyone who isn’t Master Karai we book it back here, get the shell out, and try somewhere else. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Mikey agreed, bending his head to allow Leo to check that his mask was secure before handing his brother his own and returning the favor.

“Alright, then lets jet!” Leo proclaimed, hitting the button to open the back hatch.

The air within the life support bubble was cold enough to send gooseflesh erupting over Mikey's arms and shivers down his shell. The buildings were equally cold and dark, filled with the stale sensation of a place long abandoned. Cabinets doors hung open on broken hinges, while much of the rickety furniture had either been smashed or collapsed on itself.

“Dang,” Leo whistled, flicking on a flashlight to banish the shadows clinging to the interior, “whoever was here last must have left in a hurry. And they definitely haven’t been back to clean up.”

“Maybe she’s been using one of the other buildings? You know, to stay inconspicuous?” Mikey offered, heart sinking as he accidentally kicked a piece of broken chair.

“We can check,” Leo indulged.

None of the outbuildings turned up better results beyond broken crates, and Mikey could do nothing but drag his heavy, bruised heart back to the ship.

“Come on,” Leo ordered, voice oddly gentle as he sealed the back hatch and helped Mikey out of his mask, “let’s get out of here. There are other places we can check.”

"I just...I don't understand," Mikey mumbled, staring hard at the ground as Leo moved to the front to bring their shuttle back online. "Why would the force send us on a wild goose chase? What was the point?!"

"It's like I said man," Leo shrugged as the engines whined to life, "it's just not how the force works."

"Except in this case," a soft voice said from behind them.

The two of them shrieked and jumped, limbs flailing as they spun around to face the invader. A figure stood at the back of the shuttle; body covered by a drab gray cloak with a deep hood that hid their face from view. An extra breathing mask sat innocently on one of the benches, along with two pistol sized blasters.

"Who the shell are you?!" Leo barked, fingers fluttering anxiously as they groped along the consul for something to use as a weapon. "A smuggler?!"

"Of sorts, I suppose," the figure replied calmly.

"We don't want any trouble, but believe me, we can bring the pain if you cross us!" Mikey blustered, waving his fists.

"Says the boy who once cried at the idea that someone might not want to be his friend."

"I...huh?"

"I wasn't sure, when I first started having the visions," the figure continued, moving further into the cabin. "It seemed impossible after all this time. And the results were clouded, without direction. To many possibilities. But two motifs were repeated over and over. Sun and lightning. Blue and orange. And then, just a few hours ago, the visions became clear. This place, the Yakai system. I had to take the chance. I had to…"

"What are you talking about?! Who are you?!" Leo spluttered.

Mikey blinked, arms slowly dropping. "Wait... are you..."

"I was afraid I wouldn’t make it in time… and you've both grown so much, I hardly recognized you at first. But I could never forget my boys."

The figure reached up, pushing back their hood. Stands of black and grey hair framed dark eyes and a pale face marked by fine lines of stress and age. A slim but fit figure lay beneath the cloak’s heavy edges, dressed in a worn green tunic, pants, and weathered leather boots. Empty holsters sat on either hip.

"Do you still like to paint Michelangelo?"

"OMIGOSH! YOU… YOU'RE MASTER KARAI!" Mikey shrieked, reserve giving way as he began jumping up and down. He threw himself forward, crossing the distance to wrap her in the tightest hug he could muster. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU'D BE HERE!"

Karai laughed softly as he lifted her off her feet. Her small hands patted the sides of his shell, doing their best to hold him back even with her arms pinned to her sides.

"I KNEW THE FORCE WOULD HELP US!" he shouted again, plopping Karai down before whirling around in triumph.

"WE DID IT LEO!... Leo?"

Leo did not look at him or show any indication that he'd heard Mikey at all. His gaze was riveted on Karai, blatant shock mixing with so many other emotions in an expression that was almost painful to behold.

"Lee?"

Leo's throat worked furiously, mouth opening and closing fruitlessly as words seemed to fail him. Finally, one word managed to work its way free. Small and faint, a short word nearly crushed by the weight of all it carried.

"M...Master?"

"Leonardo," Karai murmured, squeezing Mikey's shoulder before stepping forward to stand before his brother. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks, thumbs softly tracing the lower arc of his red crescent markings as she quietly studied his face.

"You've grown so tall, my little blue. You've survived, and I am so, so proud of you."

Mikey blinked hard against the threat of tears as Leo sniffed and melted into Karai's arms. Despite being the same height as the woman, his older brother seemed to shrink until his head fit neatly beneath her chin, face hidden in her shoulder as his hands came up to desperately clutch at the back of her cloak.

"I have so many questions," Karai murmured thickly, gently rocking on her feet as she cradled Leo close with one arm while reaching out to Mikey with the other. "But first, let me hold my brave boys."

[torao-d-water-ya]

Trafalgar Law, the Don Quixote brothers, and why Doffy takes such personal offence to the existence of Lawlu (Part 2: Hope)

Part 1

1. It’s no use laying your hopes on him!

Doflamingo is an absolute master of emotional manipulation, and he’s a lot more interested in crushing your spirit than doing you bodily harm. To do that he needs to know your weak spots, know where you’re vulnerable, know where it hurts. With Law, the kid who’s been through a past horrific enough to impress Doffy, the kid who was once next in line to be his successor, there are only two weak spots that Doffy puts his entire focus on. Two people.

The man who saved him, and the man who allows him to hope.

Corazon and Luffy.

Doflamingo took care of Corazon 13 years ago, so the next step in getting Law to submit is to break his faith in Luffy.

Unfortunately for Doflamingo, Law's belief in Luffy is stronger than he can possibly imagine.

2. You can’t take down Straw Hat-ya!

Law is staring down the barrel of a gun and refusing to back down, and in “killing” him, Doflamingo is actually admitting defeat. Again, what he wants is to regain control of Law, not kill him. This entire arc he’s been goading Law, chastising him for going soft, for siding with his brother, siding with the idiot Straw Hat... telling him he used to have potential. He wants Law back. But that little speech about Luffy finally, finally rings it home: Law is well and truly out of his reach.

Seeing the full extent of Law’s faith in Luffy forces Doflamingo to admit defeat in his quest to regain his pawn. Now all he wants is to prove to Law (beyond the grave, for the next interaction, because Doffy is just that petty) how stupid and unfounded his faith was.

3. He said you can work miracles. Can you, Straw Hat?

Law’s relationship with Luffy isn’t one sided, and Doflamingo knows this. In fact, his go to point of attack against each of them has become the other: with Law, that Luffy will not live up to his hopes and dreams, and with Luffy, that he’s letting Law down.

He trusted you so much. He said you can work miracles. But there he is, dead on the ground. And it’s all your fault.

Had to include Doffy delivering the most romantically coded jibe in all of One Piece

4. If he loses, I need to be here and die along with him!

Luffy has saved a lot of people from their greatest demons. Nami from Arlong. Vivi from Crocodile. Robin from the World Government. Sanji from Judge.

That the character who tries to seem the most detached, the only one who will continue to refuse the label of ‘Nakama’... that it is Trafalgar Law who makes the most intense, gut-wrenching show of loyalty - even before the deed is done - will never cease to amaze me.

5. Watch closely as your hope gets crushed.

For each of Luffy’s final battles, there is a character that acts as the heart: the one that Luffy is mainly fighting for, the one that makes the fight personal to Luffy. A crew-member, a princess. Sometimes both, and most of the time, with the added weight of a country of suffering innocents. 

In Dressrosa, the role of the ‘heart’ is played by two characters: Law and Rebecca. Law is the one who brings Luffy here, the one who bears the responsibility of taking down this great evil - the Vivi, the Momo and Kinemon. Rebecca is the representative of the suffering innocents - the Toto, the Tama. Luffy fights for both.

The difference here is Law makes the fight personal not just for Luffy, but also for Doflamingo. No other villain has had the kind of connection to the ‘heart’ of the arc that Doflamingo has to Law. To him, defeating Luffy has the added meaning of crushing Law’s hope, of delivering a final punishment to the would-be heir that betrayed him all those years ago. 

And he can’t help but take his final opportunity to rub it in.

6. In some places, there are people who call the Family of D... “Sworn enemy of the gods”

The final attack cuts to reactions all over the country - the Strawhats, members of the soon to be Grand Fleet, Gatz and the citizens of Dressrosa, Riku, Kyros, Viola, and most of all - Rebecca and Law.

But when Luffy finally wins, as Doflamingo falls through the rubble of Dressrosa, we end out the episode entirely from Law's point of view, with the words that connect his first saviour to his current one: In some places, there are people who call the Family of D... "Sworn enemy of the gods".

For all his faith in Luffy, in this one moment, as he looks up at his saviour in the sky, Law can hardly believe it.

It's done.

He's gone.

Law is finally...

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I request a crossover of sorts? Arven and Nemona meeting a strange new student!Reader. The reader is quiet, always has their head down, and is never seen with any pokemon, despite having pokeballs on their belt. One day they're either provoked into a battle or just seen with their pokemon, which turn out to be the most horrifying pokemon pretty much anyone has ever seen. Their team consists of Freakachu, Missingno, Purin, and Disabled, which are loyal and friendly toward the Reader.

I LOVE this idea to the moon and back-

.............

"I'm telling you...[y/n] has some super cool Pokémon!! Maybe they're just shy about showing them off!"

"Or maybe they're not in the mood for battling, unlike you."

"Still, I really wanna see what their team looks like!"

"...so you can beat them up?" Arven just stared at Nemona with a deadpanned expression, unable to understand why she wanted to fight you so badly.

Recently the pair, alongside Penny, befriended you--a new student who transferred from Kanto and into the Naranja/Uva Academy.

But all three of them noticed some rather peculiar things about you..

For one, you're always so quiet--even moreso than Penny--and you had your head down during the lectures, never speaking unless called on. Some professors were led to believe you were dozing off. Yet you always got good marks on your tests, so it's clear you've been paying close attention.

Outside of school, you declined Nemona's invitations to battle whenever you saw her...which was pretty much every single day. And it wasn't just her. You didn't engage in Pokémon battles with anyone. Not even during battle studies class.

Some younger students have called you "chicken" when you refused to fight their Teddiursa or Chewtile, while older folks would say that you have "the potential" to be a great trainer...but you were never bothered by their remarks. You just carried on with your day.

But the strangest thing is that nobody in Paldea has seen your Pokémon team, despite your friends noticing the four pokeballs attached to your belt at all times. Not even during picnics did you bring them out to play or chat.

Arven didn't let it bother him too much, believing you shouldn't be pressured into revealing them if you weren't prepared to; although he was curious about what was holding you back. He wasn't an expert trainer, but he let his team out to get fresh air every once in a while.

Penny can understand you wanting to hide in your shell for a little while longer. You are a recent transfer student, after all. It took her ages to even admit that she has an Eeveelution team, so she sympathizes with you in that regard.

As for Nemona? She was gonna goad you into a battle even if it killed her. You just needed a little confidence boost!

When she tried calling you, Arven suddenly snatched her rotom phone, being extremely annoyed that she was trying to nose her way into your life without permission, and the pair began arguing.

Yet neither of them have realized they've stumbled upon the secluded spot where you did let your team roam free.

But when they noticed you approaching, Arven fell silent and ducked down behind some bushes, taking Nemona along with him despite her protests. "What are you doing?!" She whisper-yelled, seeing you setting up a picnic table. "It's [y/n]!"

"I-I know, just be quiet!" He whisper-yelled right back. "All we're gonna do is scare them."

"..why are you acting like they're some timid Starly?? That's our friend!"

"Yeah? Well maybe they won't be anymore if we jump out at them! Let's just...see what they're up to before we do anything. Maybe they're gonna bring out their Pokémon." He pointed as he saw you unclip the pokeballs from your belt.

Although irritated she couldn't greet you, Nemona kept quiet and stayed hidden with Arven, excited at that prospect. Both of them watched as you tossed the pokeballs high into the air, opening one by one to reveal....

Creatures that look like they crawled out of a horror movie or broken video game.

Neither of them could believe what they were seeing:

There was a white-furred Pikachu with bandages plastered all over its body, yet it still looked very much wounded as it was missing an arm and ear. One of its legs was stripped of any fur or muscle, exposing its bones. But that didn't seem to limit its mobility as it ran happily around the table.

Then their eyes gazed upon a Jigglypuff and Wigglytuff, both with greyed fur and red stains underneath their eyes. The Wigglytuff had a bandage wrapped around her mouth, along with a stitched ear, but she seemed content sitting in the grass, sharing berries with the Jigglypuff--who seemed to sport a thousand-yard stare.

The final Pokémon was something...quite incomprehensible. Arven and Nemona didn't know if they were hallucinating at first.

But it was just...a blob of glitches shaped like a backwards L. And it seemed to be spawning Pokémon eggs all around the picnic table. Though you somehow were able to talk to it, and they disappeared before it took the shape of an Aerodactyl's skeleton. It sat patiently as you used the Mareep sponge to scrub soap onto their skull, before washing it off with the handheld sprinkler.

After shaking the water off, it let out a distorted cry that rattled the nerves of the duo.

They tried taking a scan of that Pokémon to learn more about it, but their pokedexes showed a bugged entry. Though they were able to make out several things: its name was Missingno, its number was 000, and its type was apparently "Bird/Normal".

"Wha...bird?? Isn't that just the flying type?" Arven furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, staring at his phone. "That thing is no freaking bird, I can tell you that. What kind of name is "Missingno" anyway??"

"Dunno, but we can always ask [y/n]!" Nemona suggested with a hopeful smile.

"How do you suppose we show our faces without looking like stalkers-?"

"Pikaaaa..."

Tensing, they both looked down to suddenly see the zombified Pikachu staring up at them, tilting its head. Then it grinned from ear to ear, revealing rows of sharp teeth and red fleshy gums--a far cry from the cute little smiles they're used to seeing on normal Pikachus.

One of them would've freaked out for sure....had you not whistled.

"Hey Freakachu. Come back, please...sorry, guys." You muttered apologetically, looking up at your friends. "I promise he doesn't bite."

Although you were a tad bit irritated that you caught them spying on you, you knew you couldn't keep this a secret from them forever. This could revelation could either make or break your friendship with them...but you had to take that chance eventually.

Hearing your voice, Nemona jumped up and waved excitedly. "Hola, [y/n]!! We were just doing some field studies so it's fancy seeing you here!" She stepped out of the bushes as Arven stumbled after her. "How are your Pokémon? They..seem to be in rough shape."

"I know they don't look it, but...they're happy." You noticed the grey Jigglypuff waddling beside you, tugging on your pant leg. "Oh hey, Purin..need something?"

Shaking her head, she simply hugged your leg, and you smiled as you reached down to pet her ears. She genuinely felt safe with you, as her eyes closed and a smile formed on her own face.

"Oooooo, so that Jigglypuff's name is Purin? That's cute!" Nemona cooed, whereas Arven remained immensely concerned with their conditions.

"That's cool..I guess. But why are you calling him "Freakachu"?" He gestured to the white Pikachu. "That's not really a nice name, if you ask me.."

"It's the only one he responds to, so..he doesn't mind it at all." You shrugged.

"..you sure they're all okay, [y/n]? 'cause they look like-"

"Death?"

"Wha--n-no!! I wasn't gonna say that-!"

"It's okay. I get that a lot. The thing is..they weren't always like this." You explained calmly. "They were all hurt. Disabled and Purin were abandoned by their trainers and lost their Sing...and Freakachu was dying of frostbite on Mt. Silver. I tried healing their wounds the best I could..or at least the physical ones. But they trusted me to help them, and...they've become my best friends.."

"Awh, that's muy bueno!!" Nemona beamed, clapping her hands together. "Now I kinda feel bad I was begging you to battle me..." She chuckled awkwardly. "They probably don't wanna fight."

"They know some good moves, but I was worried about how you guys would rea-"

"AH!! I-Is that a real ghost?!!"

Blinking in confusion, you looked over your shoulder to see Missingno right there, having assumed its Ghost form. You just smiled and shook your head. "No, it's just Missingno being able to turn into several forms. I don't know much about this one's history, but...old Kantonian tales claim it's a collection of lost souls that can grant you infinite items if you pay your respects to it."

"..o-oh, so it's like..a Spiritomb-" Arven concluded, only to get a light elbow in the gut by Nemona, which made him grunt in pain.

"Y'know you're being quite rude, chico." She huffed. "Screaming at our friend's Pokémon is no muy bueno."

".....sorry."

"It's fine. I know looks can be deceiving but..these Pokémon follow my every command and are very loyal. They don't hurt people anymore, so there's no need to worry."

"Anymore? That's comforting.." Arven grumbled under his breath, only to tense as Nemona glared at him. "..b-but it's great that you've trained them!" His voice went up an octave. "Do they like sandwiches?? I brought some herba mystica! A pinch of it should help with their injuries no problem!!!"

Both of you watched in amusement as he rushed over to the table to help set up the condiments, before you sighed and followed him there. Nemona joined you, a skip in her step as she was eager to learn more about your Pokémon.

Purin, Disabled, Freakachu, and Missingno all gathered there as well, lying in wait.

This was sure to be an interesting picnic.

[alaskan-wallflower]

Hi I don’t know if you’ve answered this before but I just saw the headcanons you made about Soda being sick and I was wondering if you had any headcanons about how everyone likes to be taken care of when they’re sick? And could I be your 🎃 anon if it’s not taken? Thank you!!

Ooh ofc!! I’ll do my best!

Ponyboy

With Ponyboy, he’ll never admit it but he just wants to be held. He probably won’t seek it out but the gang knows to just hold him for a bit. He doesn’t have the weakest immune system? But he does have a VERY weak stomach and gets stress induced stomachaches very easily and it’s always obvious but he tries to hide it because he feels like a burden to his brothers already, even post book he feels like a burden so he just tries to hide it but he has a VERY vocal tummy that has no problem ratting him out. He also likes being red to. It’ll put him to sleep in five seconds flat.

Soda

Soda likes constant cuddles, but unlike Pony he’s VERY vocal about it. I feel like he’s whiny too when he’s sick lol-like you try to get up for even a second and he’s whining for you to come back because he wants more cuddles. Soda has a very strong immune system (probably because he ate rocks and dirt as a kid but shhhhhh) but he too feels like a burden. But it’s very obvious when he’s sick. Sometimes Darry will take off work but it’s kind of rare. If he and Pony have work and school Pony will tell Steve and Steve will up and skip school for him. He just loves being held.

Darry

Darry is difficult. I think he’d want to be left alone because god forbid he gets the rest of the gang sick. He also really just doesn’t want to be touched because he feels gross and sweaty. He does however really enjoy sick foods like soup and crackers. It just makes him happy. He’s VERY stubborn’ tho and Pony/Soda need to literally threaten not to talk to him if he pulls that shit. He has a fairly strong immune system. But when he’s sick it’s really intense. He gets headaches a lot and that paired with chronic back pain it just isn’t pretty.

Johnny

Johnny…it’s hard with him. He’s not really used to being taken care of? So he honestly probably just hangs out in the lot because he doesn’t want anyone else to get sick. However usually Dally or Darry will see him and they’ll drag him to wherever they’re staying. I feel like he just wants to get better as soon as possible to get out of everyone’s hair, but in all honesty it feels good to be taken care of. I feel like when he gets sick it’s like…these really awful things. He doesn’t get to eat often so he probably eats from dumpsters and whatnot (or at least he used to) but he’s gotten worms and shit. It’s intense. But he has the strongest immune system I think. He’s learned.

Dallas

Dallas doesn’t get sick. But when he does he’s a complete ass about it and makes it everyone’s problem. He’s constantly trying to leave and refuses a lot of the medicines and stuff because “he doesn’t need that pussy shit” but he does. And they probably have to wrap it up in a slice of ham like he’s a damn dog. He hates being sick though, like he’ll literally straight up walk out and Darry has to carry his ass back clawing and screaming. He’s silly. shut he has a very strong immune system. Either that or he tries to drink it off but he can’t hold it down and he gets mad.

Two Bit

Two gets really delusional. It’s like he’s high. He’s like his normal self just a lot slower Like he starts having hallucinations and stuff. It’s mildly concerning because one second he’s just staring off into space and the next he’s yelling about the Ketchup Man or something. He doesn’t mind being taken care of though. He probably tries to live off beer and cake but he throws it all up. He doesn’t really have curtesy though and will like…cough on people lmao

Steve

Steve is hard 😭 I think he’s kind of like Dally how he hates being taken care of but the only one who can get through to him is Soda and Soda will drive his ass home from the gas station to just lay down and relax. Steve gets genuinely mad that he’s sick lmao-like he’s so mean to Pony too like Pony will be coming home from school and he’ll just look at Steve and Steve’s like “what’re you lookin’ at” with a puffy nose and watery eyes. He gets lowkey mean but never to Soda (or Darry because Darry will kill him) but he’s SO mean to Pony (well Pony’s probably mean back lmao) but in the end he just wants to be sleeping. He sleeps a LOT. Like seventeen hours a day lmao

I hope these are good!! Had to kinda rush things a bit towards the end, sorry 😭

[strnsvt]

joshua hong — unwritten constellations: love beyond royalty.

joshua leaned casually against the polished car, a gentle smile gracing his features as you stormed out of the grand doors, your eyes flashing with frustration, "take me far away from this royal chaos," he nodded silently, opening the car door for you.

the car sped through the winding city streets as joshua glanced at you. a subtle smile played on his lips as you stared out of the window, letting a tear roll down your cheek which didn't go unnoticed by joshua.

wordlessly — he reached into the compartment, giving you a delicate handkerchief, knowing not to speak unless spoken to.

"i hate this, joshua," you say, dabbing away the tear. joshua's gaze remained steady on the road ahead, "i understand, princess," he replied in a soothing tone.

"don't call me that," you sniffled.

despite your plea, joshua couldn't help but push back with a teasing tone, "alright, princess. even in the chaos, there's a certain elegance to your rebellion."

"stop calling— oh my god," more tears streamed down your face and joshua only chuckles.

"so, where are we headed, princess?"

"..."

"where are we headed, y/n?" joshua asked again, the anticipation hanging in the air.

you sighed, gazing out the window at the passing city lights. "i don't know, joshua. just drive,"

"won't your parents—"

"no. don't talk about them,"

"i might get fired if—"

"just drive," you interrupt, refusing to let him finish his sentences, "for an hour or two or three,"

"a three-hour long drive. noted," joshua says, adjusting the rearview mirror. "but before that, we have to visit the gas station," you simply hum.

the car pulled into a dimly lit gas station, the soft glow of fluorescent lights casting an otherworldly ambiance. joshua parked ��� as you both stepped out into the crisp night air.

as he began refueling the car, you leaned against the side, deep in thought. "it's strange, finding sanctuary in a place like this,"

joshua chuckled, his hands still busy with the pump. "sometimes, unexpected stops lead to unexpected revelations,"

you glanced around at the flickering neon signs and the distant hum of the highway. "i never imagined a gas station could be a refuge,"

he finished refueling and joined you, a playful glint in his eyes. "life is full of surprises. now, shall we continue our journey into the unknown?"

"..."

"princess?"

"joshua, my parents...they've already started arranging suitors for my marriage," you admitted, the weight of their expectations heavy in your voice.

a subtle change crossed joshua's expression, a fleeting emotion surfacing in his eyes when the topic of suitors arose, "oh," is all he exhaled out.

"joshua?"

"yes?"

"...lets go?"

he simply nods, with a shared understanding hanging in the air, you both climbed back into the car, leaving the gas station's ethereal glow behind. the engine hummed to life as joshua merged onto the open road, the city lights fading into the distance.

"three hours of silent drive. am i right, princess?"

you turn your head to look at him, "no, not silent,"

"do you wish to play some music then?"

"no. i want to talk to you. and i want you to talk to me. like a friend. we're hardly two years apart, joshua,"

"im afraid, i can't do that," he says, changing the gear.

"why not?" you asked, the quiet urgency in your voice breaking the serene atmosphere.

"because, y/n, every stolen glance, every shared silence, they echo with something more profound. i can't simply be a friend when my heart whispers a different story,"

"...what do you mean?"

joshua simply takes your hand in his, holding it so delicately, his lips brushing against your skin in a tender kiss.

joshua, sensing the need for a moment of solitude, steers the car toward a isolated place.

"why here, joshua?"

"because, i need to do this," he replied, undoing the seatbelt and leaning towards you. in that secluded haven, he captured your lips with his in a chaste kiss, a gentle exchange of emotions that spoke louder than words.

the night enveloped you both in its quiet embrace, the car now parked in solitude. joshua's kiss lingered, a silent promise between the flickering stars above.

"unexpected turns," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. you met his gaze, finding solace in the unspoken connection.

"what now, joshua?" you whispered, the vulnerability in your words hanging in the air, "what about the suitors?"

"let them chase shadows," he replied, intertwining his fingers with yours. "our story, princess, is written in the stars, not in the scripts they pen."

and so, the road unfolded, weaving a narrative of love, rebellion, and the quiet strength found in the spaces between whispered confessions and stolen kisses.

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Warnings: yandere, drugging, aphrodisiac mention (not to reader), slight manipulation? slight spicy mention.

Yandere male hero x chill sidekick reader

Thinking about a yandere hero being extremely obsessed with their sidekick. So obsessed to the point they pretend there's a villain that has to be hunted down (note: the vilain was already caught by the hero when sidekick was asleep for their plan to work). But instead they put a trap for themself with a type of gas aphrodisiac. They know you too well. They know without hesitation if something were to happen to them, you'd sacrifice yourself in trying to save the people from him if necessary.

He just has to play his cards right. He even made sure no one would be around the abandoned area. Even the few people that took less... heroic measures to remove.

He leads you there and tells you to start searching, and you get the box first, prepared to open it to check.

For a second with the box in your hands, he thought of you getting the gas instead. But he couldn't do that to you. It can have some negative side effects after all that he doesn't want to make you have. Yes, he's so smitten that if he gets a severe headache or something after, he'll gladly take it. It would just be another upside knowing you'd be taking care of him and only focused on him.

"W-wait! It could be a trap!" His hands reach out for it. "Let me handle it."

You just shrug and give him the box.

His excitement is almost too much to contain. Sure, there's better ways than his plan, but he wants to guarantee you'll be stuck with him one way or another. He refused to not have you near him. If a villain or even a hero harms you, they're dead. A good way is putting his thanks on TV later. Next to no one doubts the hero after all. And you'll have to stay with him or be targeted by villains and jealous fans. He does feel a little bad for it, but not enough to cancel it.

He walks out of the range the gas would hit you and rips open the box, getting knocked back by the smell that assaults his nose.

It's faster working and stronger than he thought it would be. The heat overwhelming him fast.

"Sh- I... Hah, it's... some sort of aphrodisiac. An extremely- a very strong one. I'm not going to be able to handle it or hold myself back. You need- you need to go!"

You secretly admit you're a bit excited yourself. That and you know you have to stop him from going to a poor person to the public. You lock the door and slowly walk closer.

Fuck, he feels severe pain. He really DOES need you right now.

But despite the pain, an internal smile is within him. Perfect.