#macho boys can be soft

[silentsamlikesham]

I was surprised there wasn't more fics like this for the fandom. Macho boys need to be soft sometimes....

Zoro x Sanji

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

Sanji’s shoes click rhythmically off the cobblestone pavement as he stalks towards the ship. His eyes watch the cracks in the ground and the uneven bumps in the stones until they fall away to crooked lines etched into the wood of the dock.

He doesn’t lift his head as seagulls circle him, their sharp eyes catching the few bags Sanji has dangling from his wrists. He doesn’t take in the sight of sailors throwing barrels onto ships or jostling past him in a hurry to grab more rope, and food and booze from the carts that sit on the edge of the ships. 

He doesn’t flinch when the seaside breeze cuts through his hair, plastering it across the wrong side of his face as he climbs onto the Merry. Not even the splash of sea water from below, that soils the cuffs of his pants, can rip him from the haze of his foul mood.

The first time Sanji glances up from the floor, is to watch behind him as Zoro reaches the bottom of the rope ladder. He takes a brief hiatus from his gloom to watch smugly as Zoro struggles to use only his legs to get aboard.

One of his arms is coiled around a barrel of beer, the other is weighed down by as many shopping bags as Sanji could throw at him, topped with a box he’s balancing between his bicep and shoulder that contains large heavy pieces of meat. 

The swordman seems to sense he’s being watched because he peaks a look up at Sanji, his eye’s just visible under his bandana.

“You going to help me, Curly?”

Sanji tsks loudly, his brief smile at the other’s struggling twisting into a frown again as he remembers just how pissed off he is.

“Screw you, Mosshead.” 

The clack of Sanji’s dress shoes echo across the deck of the ship as he storms off towards the pantry, the door to the kitchen banging loudly behind him as it slams shut.

Zoro blinks slowly, shaking his head as he convinces himself not to think too hard about what has set the cook off. Knowing how temperamental he could be, it could be as simple as an eyelash grazed his eye, or maybe he had to buy a bruised fruit or something.

Zoro decides to ignore the temper tantrum and instead focuses on getting over the side of the ship and safely onto the deck. He kicks the door to the kitchen open, not feeling bad when it slams loudly against the cracking wooden wall. It’s not his fault someone had shut it when they knew his hands were full, and Zoro was not dropping any of stuff in his arms until he knew he’d never have to pick them up again.

“Oi, watch it moss for brains.” Sanji snarls, already halfway through unpacking one of the half full bags he’d decided not to throw at Zoro.

Zoro noisily drops everything from his left arm, the sacks opening and almost spilling their contents, while the box dents on one side. With both arms Zoro carefully drops his booze barrel onto the floor, the only thing he cared about getting safely back to the ship.

“What the hell, idiot. You better not have bruised anything.” Sanji seethes, storming forwards, his eyes not even on the products.

It was clear the cook wasn’t upset about the door, or the dropped goods. No, Zoro knew by now his rival was itching for a fight. Well, if that is the case,  he’d give him one. 

“What’s your problem, Ero-Cook? You don’t like how I handle them, then you carry them.”

Like expected, his blonde crewmate sucks in a breath before he easily spins his hips and launches a kick at the side of Zoro’s head. The hilt of a sword catches the edge of his ankle, stopping the impact by mere centimetres.

“Isn’t your job on this ship to be the pack mule?” Sanji hisses, leaning forward enough that Zoro can feel a flick of spit hit his chin. “Can you do anything right?”

The next few clashes between the pair are nasty. A pinch of hurt mixes with a wave of fury and frustration as Zoro matches the tempo of the other’s hits. They block, dodge and slam into one another, a litter of bruises and bumps being left in the wake of their moves as they throw insults back and forth.

It’s nothing new, nothing unusual between them, but it feels strange to Zoro. Sanji doesn’t feel like he’s letting off steam, not when one shoving kick almost breaks a rib, or when the next kick almost comes crashing down on his skull at practically full force, hard enough to crack bone. The cook clearly seems upset with him.

“What-” Zoro slams the hilt of his second blade into the side of Sanji’s knee, unbalancing him, “is your-” He steps further shoving into the cook and knocking him back onto his ass, the tip of Yubashiri pointing down at him “fucking problem?”

Sanji’s glare trails from the tip of the blade up to Zoro’s face before he growls back “You. You ruin everything.” 

With that, Sanji uses a kick to knock the blade away before he pushes forward, barely lifting off the ground as he tackles Zoro at his knees, knocking him onto his back and briefly winding him.

He probably could have taken the hit, but he’s so surprised that he doesn’t even realise what the cook is doing until he feels two sharp knees digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms are pinned, stretched outwards with his swords as far from his opponent as possible, as Sanji sits heavily on his chest.

Zoro’s so startled by the approach that he goes to swing his head, to whip the sword in his mouth at the hot head, but before he can, Sanji has taken the sword away. For a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll join Sanji in feeling murderous, but some of his anger is quenched when he realises the cook doesn’t toss the blade away, but instead places it carefully above Zoro’s head, just out of reach of his mouth. 

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut at the market, could you?” Sanji pants, pushing as much weight into his knees so he can, watching Zoro flinch as they push through muscle and pinch at nerves.

“What are you talking about, shit-cook?” Zoro tries to move his arms, he knows he’s strong enough to lift Sanji’s scrawny legs off him, but for some reason, nothing happens.

“You just had to butt in about booze right as I was getting somewhere with that beautiful blonde-haired beauty. You had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.” 

Sanji thinks back to the lady, all curves and soft lines and a small timid smile. The brief laugh she paid him for a weak joke was enough to make Sanji float. He’s sure he could have charmed an evening with her while they were stuck on this island, but big mean and green had to ruin it all, as usual.

“That’s what this is about? You striking out with yet another clueless chick?” Zoro continues to struggle, becoming perplexed that his strength seemed to have left him.

“Don’t call women demeaning shit like that.” Sanji snarls, only refraining from hitting the green bafoon when he notices the other looking worried at his arms twitching uselessly beneath Sanji’s hold.

“It’s not going to work, Mosshead. I’m leaning on a weak point in your arms.” 

Zoro’s attention turns back to Sanji, his brows furrowed in thought as though he wasn’t sure to believe the blonde or not.

“Apologise, and I’ll move.” Sanji bargains, his temper subsiding as a feeling of victory settles in his chest. 

“Eat shit.” 

Sanji grins at the discomfort on Zoro’s face, the sweat breaking out across his forehead as he struggles to get himself back in a position of power. The blonde decides to lean his upper body back, a show of how long he is willing to wait for Zoro to cave. His hands fall lazily behind him as he goes to rest one of them on Zoro’s stomach. 

The movement surprises the swordsman, the hand going unnoticed until he felt gentle fingertips dragging across his ribs, pushing at the taut skin. The lack of sight, mixed with an unusual place for Sanji to touch him is enough to cause Zoro to flinch, to let the smallest involuntary gasp through his lips as his breath hitches and his eyes widen in genuine surprise. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. 

Maybe he didn’t notice?

“Oho, what was that Marimo?” Sanji, having literally felt the hitch in breath beneath him, stares curiously at his hand, then looks back at Zoro’s face, the faintest dusting of a blush growing on his cheeks as he suddenly refuses to meet Sanji’s face.

The cook might have just taken the reaction as having hit a bruise, but the discomfort on Zoro’s face makes Sanji curious. So, he does it again.

This time his fingers brush relentlessly over the spot, the touch getting softer as he realises it elicits more of a reaction from the man beneath him. Sanji can’t help the grin that spreads out across his face as the pieces start to click together.

“Oi, Marimo.” Zoro glares a hole through Sanji as he meet’s his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight of the smug expression on the assholes face. “I didn’t know moss could be ticklish.”

Zoro tries to keep his face neutral as he opens his mouth to deny it, to tell Sanji he’s an idiot and to get the fuck off him before he skewers him, but before he can…Sanji squeezes his hip bone, his long fingers coiling into the exposed hollow of his hip.

He thought with all his hard work and training over the years that he could have held back his reaction, hardened his mind until he felt nothing. It doesn’t work. Not with Sanji’s weight holding him down, his arms and swords useless for once, his rival’s touch soft against his skin. This was new, this was terrifying, and this was something Zoro had never prepared for.

He lets out a bark of laughter, his face whipping to the side in embarrassment and panic as he tries to will the flush climbing up his neck away. 

Sanji forgets to be angry, forgets he was ever upset, forgets completely about the blonde that started this whole scene. He can feel the echo of the laugh through Zoro’s chest, can feel the panicked breaths that follow against his thighs. His eyes are locked on Zoro’s watery smile, not used to seeing such a shy grin on the swordman’s face. 

He squeezes again, Zoro’s eyes twisting shut as though not being able to see what was happening would be enough to make it go away. He loosens his grip slightly, scratching the area instead, his nails bluntly dragging across the cotton of Zoro’s shirt as a groan from his mouth turns to soft giggles.

Sanji is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breath. It’s like he’s afraid to. That he’ll make too much noise and miss a single sound coming from Zoro’s lips.

“Didn’t think a brute like you could giggle.” Sanji teases eventually, pausing his assault long enough to see if Zoro will answer him, if he is capable of speech.

Zoro is pretty sure he’s going to die. His chest is tight after less than a minute of this. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, his hip feels like it’s been electrocuted and now Sanji’s words are burning him. He can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his limbs will surely snap at any moment. When it does, it’s likely he’ll melt into the wood of the floor.

“What, no quip back?” Sanji is laughing now, joyfully too, not his usual cruel cackle that he uses to taunt Zoro mid-fight. 

“Shu-huh-ut up!” Zoro gasps, trying to regain his composure. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had pinned him like this, and certainly can’t remember a time when someone ever tickled him like this. He hadn’t even considered he was ticklish, not since he’d grown up.

“Aw Marimo, that’s not very nice.” Sanji’s eyes are practically shining as he leans back with both hands now on Zoro’s stomach, all ten fingers curling into the soft dip just below Zoro’s abs. 

Zoro’s eye’s practically bug out of his head at the sensation. Any thought of shutting down his nervous system disappears as he lets out a stream of loud laughter, his legs curling and kicking out behind Sanji, his back arching off the ground, nearly hard enough to push Sanji off him. But the blonde was able to stay on top, his laughter joining Zoro’s.

“Oh, mosshead. I think I’ve found a way to indefinitely win our little fights now. Let’s hope no one outside the crew finds out about this, eh?”

Sanji’s words are too much, too condescending, and sweet and frustrating. 

“I-Ihh- I’m go-ahah-gonna cut yo-oho-you’re fucking tongue ou-ouaha-out.” Zoro warns, deadly serious for once. His threat sounding ridiculous though as his voice cracks at the end, his laughter hitting a shriek as Sanji traces a spot just above his pant’s line. 

Sanji hums, unimpressed. His hands disappear from Zoro’s stomach and for some reason that’s worse. Zoro’s gaze snaps from the door to the kitchen back to Sanji as he desperately tries to anticipate whatever the fuck the cook is going to do next. 

He’s too slow though because he doesn’t feel the hands shoving under his exposed armpit’s until it’s too late. Not being able to drag his elbows into his sides is torture and his shrieking continues as his nerves tingle from his chest all the way to his fingertips.

“I don’t think the world’s greatest swordsman is the only title you’ll ever earn; clearly most ticklish swordsman is already yours.”

It’s the worst comment so far. Mainly because the cook has just fucking admitted he think’s Zoro can achieve his dream. The compliment is weird and warm enough to have butterflies fluttering in his gut while his lungs seize in his chest. His face is beetroot red at this point as Zoro starts to feel like he’ll never escape.

But just as he thinks this, Zoro registers his legs, which have been twisting and convulsing this whole time…Sanji is settled on his chest. Zoro’s legs are completely free. He mightn’t have trained his kicks like the cook, but he can still swing them as well as any other competent fighter.

As Sanji opens his mouth to tease him further, Zoro moves. He brings his knees up with as much force as he can in his position, and they hit Sanji square in his lower back. He knocks the cook forward just enough that one of his knee’s shifts from where they were pinching the nerve in Zoro’s arm and in a blink of an eye he goes from a laughing mess to grappling Sanji’s waist, rolling the pair over until Zoro finds himself nestled in between the blonde’s legs, his hips pining the other’s down.

Sanji is blinking owlishly up at the ceiling, disorientated, and confused at how he ended up in this position. 

Zoro wastes no time in hopping up and falling back down on the other’s thighs, preventing any kicks or twists that might come his way. He gives Sanji a second, relishing in the horrified expression on his rivals faces before he digs both his large hands into every inch of skin he could on the blonde’s stomach and is rewarded by a loud wheeze followed by a stream of curses and laughter as Sanji loses it beneath him. His whole being wiggling and convulsing and suddenly Zoro doesn’t feel as embarrassed or weak.

He was going to kill the blonde, tickle him to an inch of his final breath and make him promise to never try this shit again, to beg and cry for Zoro to stop...

But the heated feeling dies in his mind as soon as he thinks it, because Sanji laughs like it means nothing. Like he doesn’t care that he’s being lit on fire by Zoro’s touch. He meets Zoro’s eye like they’re sharing a joke over a drink, like they’ve just surprised yet another unsuspecting crew, he looks at Zoro as if they’re friends…and it kills Zoro. Destroys him in a way he’s not expecting.

So, he stops, his fingers stilling when Sanji’s eyes gather tears and his face is as red as Zoro’s own.

He doesn’t tease him, doesn’t trust himself to say a single word when his mouth has dried, when it feels like cotton in sitting in the centre of his tongue. 

“Tr-ucahaha-truce. Plea-ahah-se Marimo.” 

Zoro stares at him until Sanji squirms uncomfortably at the silence. He watches the emotions swirling in Zoro’s eyes, his face it’s usual mask of secrecy. The idiot looks lost, like he’s stuck on something particularly complex.

Sanji hasn’t a clue what could be happening in the green idiot’s brain, so he doesn’t push him. Not when he’s still menacingly looming over him, ready to pounce. 

Sanji handles him the way he always does when he needs Zoro to comply without needing him to actually agree with him.

“I’ll let you drink a bottle of the good booze if you let me up?”

Zoro grins then, the tension washing away as Sanji offer him something familiar, something safe. 

He grunts as he stands, surprising them both when he offers Sanji a hand up. 

He takes the hand, letting Zoro pull him to his feet, surprised when the other pulls him close, his breath tickling Sanji’s ear as he hisses “You tell anyone about this, and not even the world’s best sake will save you.”

Zoro pulls back then to glare as threateningly as he can at the cook. Sanji looks stricken, maybe a bit intimidated for a second before he bursts into laughter. Zoro pouts at the response, forgetting none of his intimating tricks work on the pervert.

Sanji gooses his side as he dances out of Zoro’s reach and towards the drinks stash, laughing as he replies over his shoulder. 

“Next time I won’t forget to pin you properly, moss for brains.”

The threat sounds more like a promise, like Sanji is already planning his next attack. It makes Zoro uncomfortable, afraid, and slightly excited. The same mesh of emotions he always gets from fighting with Sanji.

Maybe, this would be another form of release for them. Another way to pass the time on the ship and let off some steam.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that a tickle fight was far less acceptable for a pair of terrifying warriors than genuine bruise inducing sparring.

Who could judge them out at sea? Who would learn of what they did on the grand line behind a closed kitchen door.

Zoro wanted to hear that laughter again, wanted to see that grin across the cook’s face…and maybe, he admits quietly in his brain as he takes the first gulp of his drink, he was looking forward to having the cook tease him like that again.

To beat him with a soft touch, rather than a short blunt one.

Zoro needed to drink the entire bottle placed in front of him before he lets his thoughts continue, before he reaches a conclusion, he’s been avoiding for months now.

He holds out his empty cup and receives a scoff in return as Sanji fills it again, the two of them clinking their next glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’.

They’ll figure it out, whatever this is.

They’re nakama after all. 

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dating a ghost isn't easy...

I love my boyfriend. I really do, but his death has put a strain on our relationship. At least Halloween is close which means his spirit is close too. Like always, I spend lunch alone at our favorite cafe, waiting for him to fill the empty seat next to me. I jump when a burly worker throws his heavy frame down, blaring a husky, "Hey sexy! Give your man a smile!"

"Danny?" I ask, shaken by the guy's abrupt arrival and more-than-rough countenance.

"The name's Gordon," he bellows back, draping his dirty arms and legs aggressively outward, "But yeah, it's me sugar, your dead boyfriend. I thought you'd appreciate me showing up in a hunky body of the working man!" He flexes one of his thick arms and flashes challenging looks at some of the nearby customers.

His crass words make me shudder. My Danny was soft-spoken, charming, and thoughtful: nothing like the rude, stinking gorilla in front of me. Sure, a big hairy construction worker like this is great to fantasize about, but it's less exciting when that hulking body is sitting right there. His cocky mannerisms, sour body odor, and wandering eyes that seem to undress everyone they land on: it all adds to the growing pit in my stomach.

"You just gonna stare, sweet-lips?" he goes on, snickering with Gordon's deep timbre, "Spent the morning jackhammering the sidewalk, but now I could hammer your organs out!"

"Danny!" I blush, checking to see if anyone overheard. They're already staring, probably wondering why this guy sat down at this nice cafe caked in mud, "Can you cool it with this Gordon-the-macho-construction-worker vibe? I know you can't help it, but it's a bit much!"

"Fuck! Just shut up and kiss me already," he grunts, leading his heavy body covered in sweat with puckered lips in my direction.

"Danny sto-OH!" I can't help but melt into the bulky embrace. With arms like Gordon's, I don't have much choice, and though his breath smells like cigarettes and his skin is slick with sweat, I enjoy finally kissing my boyfriend again even if it is through the mouth of some ridiculously unmannered construction worker. At least I've got my boyfriend back!

"That's my boy," he growls low in my ear, and I feel a strong hand squeeze my ass tightly through its filthy work glove. Fuck! Danny is so assertive inside this Gordon character.

"Babe, please not here," I wheeze from the effort of escaping the intensely strong grip, "And not with Gordon. Aren't you tired of being an dumb, hairy ape yet?"

"Not at all!" he announces as he reclines in his seat, almost yelling with Gordon's loud voice.

I shake my head, admittedly feeling more and more amused by this rough-around-the-edges giant. Ever since Danny passed away and started possessing people, I realized hopping into bodies wasn't like the movies. He didn't just jump into some dude and take over, his soul became entwined with that other person. All of his hosts have personalities, memories, and habits that bleed into Danny as long as he's wearing them. Honestly, more of the host shines through than my actual boyfriend does, but regardless of who he possesses, his love for me is never affected. I suppose that's enough to put up with some of the more unpleasant quirks of each guy he takes over.

"I don't mind walkin' around in Gordo's boots," he grins at me, obviously at home in the man's sun-dried skin, "But lemme see if I can find a cleaner stiff to hop in for ya."

With that, Danny hoists himself off chair. I swear every move he makes in that body is startling, shaking the table with the ruckus of his tool belt being carelessly whipped around. Seeing the burly worker stand there with his hands on his hips makes me almost regret suggesting he swap out of the body. Sure the mud, sweat, and body hair makes my skin itch, but imagining that thug attacking me with his careless dominance is turning me on: not to mention the tight ass beneath that denim.

"Lunch break is almost over. Needa head back to the yard," he growls and then catches himself, "I mean Gordon does. I'll be back in someone else to finish this fuckin' date!"

"You're a real working man, Gordon," I tease, understanding this character a bit better "I'm sure you're the big boss on site."

"You bet yer ass, I am," he thumbs his chest proudly, "Someone's gotta keep the guys runnin' smoothly. Who else gonna do it?"

"Well I'll let you get back to work. Hopefully I'll run into you again. Maybe at home tonight?"

"Hell yeah!" he bursts, "I'll hop in this guy later, so I can take a look at your plumbing. Anything you need! ...I'll be your handyman, baby!"

"Hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty," I wink, and he flashes me one last wild grin from Gordon's face. That grin falters, and the construction worker shudders. His eyes still stare at me, but I can tell they don't recognize me anymore. Danny's left his body.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that," the real Gordon mumbles, "Dunno what came over me."

"Don't worry about it."

"We know each other?" he asks, pawing at his head in desperate confusion, "We been chattin' like we do. Only just realized I don't think I know you like I thought I did." The poor guy's mind is probably racing with conflicting ideas.

The laborer chuckles nervously. I can tell Gordon is completely unsure about what he's been doing. Danny seems to have that effect on his hosts. Understand that they're still conscious while he possesses them; his thoughts just merge with their own. So, right now, Gordon the rough-neck construction worker is trying to reconcile the fact that he's been thinking of me as his boyfriend for the last twenty minutes. The poor guy's probably never had a gay thought in his life! Yet he just spent his break flirting with some random guy at a random cafe. He even kissed me, and I'm pretty sure Danny was imagining some rather homoerotic things with that guy's head.

"Sorry, man," I shrug, pretending to be just as clueless as he is.

"Fuckin' queer," his face hardens into a glare before he leaves our inexplicable lunch date.

"See you tonight, Gordo!" I call lightheartedly.

The construction worker gives me an intense scowl, but I can see blushing cheeks under that matted beard. Danny definitely had some sexual thoughts while possessing that guy, and Gordon seems completely embarrassed that those thoughts were in his head. Well, his opinion on the subject will completely change once again tonight when Danny hops back in.

"Afternoon, sir," a voice hums to my right, "Got some time to thank me for my service?"

"Danny?" I immediately gasp.

"In the flesh," the policeman flirts with a cool voice, "At least, in your hometown hero's flesh." Danny enjoys a sip of coffee and shoots me a smile from the man's sparkling white teeth.

"Uh, are you sure you should be inside a cop," I whisper, leaning in so our fellow cafe-goers won't hear. They were already staring when a big blue-collar bear sat opposite me, but now their intrigue is growing from this man of the law. It doesn't help that this cop is a local celebrity! Nearly everyone's seen him on the news. With a face like that, it's no wonder the force chose him for public relations.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he extends a capable hand, "The name's Officer Steele."

"Well, officer," I try not to swoon too hard as Danny forcefully shakes my palm, "I'm-"

"You're my lover," he interjects warmly, "I know you like a man in uniform, sir. Why not enjoy the best guy this town has in uniform?"

"Wow, I..." I fumble, "...yup. Are you sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?"

"I've got patrol duty today," he nonchalantly answers, "But the town’s quiet. Besides, a guy’s gotta take a break sometime, right? Can’t be all work and no play." The officer's sneer is dripping with pride, clearly keeping a high opinion of himself! I doubt this man would be so open if Danny weren't in their making Steele think I'm his lover. Who knew the cop was as arrogant as he was charming?

"Aren't your fellow police counting on you to protect and serve, officer?"

"Oh sir, I can show you how well I protect and serve. And my men know better than to question me. I mean, look at me. Who else is gonna chase down the perps? Certainly not those doughnut-loving desk jockeys.” Steele stares me down with a confident, haughty look as he rises out of the chair. It's hard to do anything but listen and watch when Danny's wearing a guy like this. His eyes grip me in a trance while his fingers undo his shirt buttons.

"Like what you see, sir?" Officer Steele smirks.

I can only answer with a dumb nod as I drink in the sight of his chiselled torso. Somehow the dusting of blonde fur only defines his perfect musculature further. At this point, everyone in the cafe has stopped to gawk at the cop stripping in the middle of their lunch.

"You make one hell of a cop, Danny," I breathe.

"It's Officer Steele, remember?" he winks, and bounces his pecs, rippling the fabric dangling off his shoulders, "I work out twice a day, before and after my shift. Sure it helps keep the town safe, but I also just like the citizens of this town to see me as the hot, muscular cop of their dreams. I love their eyes on me when I pull them over or walk past on patrol. They're always intimidated, jealous, or turned on."

With this Danny looks around at the people around him, matching their stunned expressions. I'll admit that I'm a little surprised by how vulnerable my boyfriend is getting with this cop's inner thoughts. Maybe this is all how Steele actually feels, but I doubt the officer would want to share it with the world!

"Maybe we should slow down," I suggest.

"Do I need to get out my handcuffs, sir," the cop purrs, his tone sharpening as he steps closer, "I'm used to having a good girl waiting for me at home, but I want that to be you tonight. Men are a whole lot more capable than women afterall. I'll be late from the gym, but I'd like supper ready. Think you can handle that?" His big hands hold me squarely at the shoulders while he stares down in my eyes. For a second I'm lost in the proximity of his handsome face and statuesque muscles.

That's when I notice the ring.

"Jesus, Danny!" I chastise.

"It's Officer Steele!"

"No! Jump out! You hopped into a married man!" Honestly, part of me is relieved to find something wrong. Officer Hadley was starting to freak me out, and now that I know he's married to a woman, his sexist comments are starting to make a lot more sense.

"Oh, come on," the cop rolls his eyes, "She doesn't have to know. You're my boyfriend, anyway! You won't find a hotter guy than me!"

I put my foot down and give Steele a look, appealing to the Danny I know is somewhere inside him. Like I'd hoped, he relents and let's out one more sigh of frustration. Then the cop's meticulously trained body shivers and his eyes lose their intense focus. In seconds, Danny's spirit slips out of the cocky cop.

"Woah!" Officer Steele gasps, "Why did I do that?" He looks just as confused as Gordon did, frantically trying to button up his shirt and lose the attention of everyone in the cafe.

"Beats me," I play dumb, "Hope your wife doesn't hear about this."

"No!" the cop stomps over, "That wasn't what happened. I wasn't...coming on to you or anything. I'm not even into men!"

"Seemed like you were..." I press.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going home to my wife tonight. You are not..." Steele glances around warily before whispering, "...my boyfriend. Got it!"

"Of course, Officer," I assure him, enjoying the rapid crumbling of his confident swagger.

The policeman lingers around the cafe to collect himself and straighten up his uniform. I can tell he'd like to say a few more words before leaving, but he thinks twice with the crowd of witnesses and strides off forcefully. I wonder if a guy like that would lash out if we weren't in such a public place. His poor wife better watch out tonight. I can't believe my Danny was inside a guy like that! The thought of his good-natured demeanor mixing with that man's entitlement and aggression makes me sick; not to mention his antiquated ideas about gender roles!

That's what's always so tricky about dating my boyfriend through a neverending series of hosts. Sure, I get to sleep with a rotation of the hottest characters I want, but the bad gets mixed in there too. I have to put up with his body's offensive ideas, mean comments, and weird behavior. I know I can't blame Danny for it, but while he's possessing those guys, those are his thoughts as much as they are theirs. It's just unsettling.

"Sorry about that," I hear behind me.

"You're in the waiter now?" I feign a smile, unable to hide how tired I've grown.

Now that the cafe is rid of the policeman and construction worker, the atmosphere of the place seems to go back to normal. People turn their attention back to the food on their plates or the screens on their phones.

"Can I get you another cup? It's on the house," the cafe server tries to lighten the mood.

"Danny, I'm just tired..." I admit, "Wait, what's the name now?"

"It's Josh," the waiter replies, "But I am sorry about being inside that cop. I just want tonight to be special you know. That's why I've been combing the town for the biggest, hottest guys to jump in. You deserve the best!"

"Josh...Danny, you don't need to give me the best. Sure it'd be fun to mess around with you inside Gordon or Officer Steele, but right now I want you to be in someone that makes me feel like it used to. I miss you, the real you."

"I guess I really did pick some bad ones today," the waiter chuckles, smiling with dimples in his cheeks, "I felt so manly and tough in Gordon; like I didn't give a shit about anyone except my man. In Steele I felt so cocky and sure of myself, and honestly a little too entitled to you. It's hard to realize if I'm in the wrong with each of these guys. In their heads, they all believe themselves to be right, and I can't help but think the same in the moment."

"I know," I sigh, frustrated by the influence these guys have over my ghost boyfriend, "How do you feel in Josh the waiter."

Danny perks up in the cafe worker's body. I have to admit that this guy's energy is infectious, and he's far from bad looking. His broad shoulders look perfect for hugging, and he smells faintly of coffee. I don't know how I never noticed him working here before. I must've been preoccupied, looking for ghosts, to miss a charming barista like Josh.

"I have to admit something," Danny says with Josh's sweet tone, "I've got a crush on you. Had it for awhile. You're the hot guy that always sits here during lunch."

"Well, I'd hope you have a crush on me. You are my boyfriend afterall," I snort.

"No, I, Josh, have a crush on you," he smiles.

"Oh," I'm at a loss for words. Somehow this feels like a whole new can of worms. I'm flattered, but unsure. Is it weird if I flirt with someone that has a crush on me while my boyfriend is inside them? They're both conscious right now, so it's genuine right? But am I really flirting with Josh as long as Danny is in there too. Does flirting with another guy while your boyfriend is possessing him count as cheating? I can't even keep track anymore.

I don't have time to think before Josh/Danny has rushed over and pulled me into his arms. It feels just as good as I imagined to be in the waiter's embrace, and it feels even better to kiss. This guy, this Josh, seems romantic, kind-hearted, and gleeful; he reminds me of what it was like when Danny was alive. Before I know it, my boyfriend/new crush is clocking out of work and leading me to his car, holding me close, and whispering in my ear, "Happy Halloween, babe."

I love the spooky season.

[cod-dump]

I can just see it being Ghost's birthday and Soap asks Price "What should I get Ghost for his birthday?!" And Price immediately responds with "Flowers. He loves flowers. He won't care if they're basically dead. He loves flowers."

Ghost never got flowers. It wasn't a manly gift, boys don't like flowers only girls do.

But Soap still got him flowers.

A beautiful bouquet with different shades of blue with white speckled in. Not a manly gift for a man on his birthday. Ghost would've jumped on believing Soap was mocking him in some way if he didn't know the man so well.

A honest gift, thought out with care. He couldn't have imagined Soap coming up with it easily, Ghost always came off as macho man, peak masculinity. These weren't masculine. They were soft, delicate, something that Ghost was nothing like.

"They're... perfect."

Soap let out a heavy breath in relief, "Oh thank god. I couldn't tell if Cap was being serious."

Ghost let out a laugh and Soap tried to defend himself, "Don't laugh! I'm serious I thought the man was trying to make me look like an idiot!"

"Is that why you wanted to give me these in private?"

"Yes! Rather be verbally abused away from prying eyes. Didn't want to look like a eejit."

"I thought it was rather romantic."

Soap flushed and Ghost took the flowers from him, lowering his mask so he could bury his face in them and smell them. A light fragrance. Sweet, warm, spring. Not overpowering and just utterly perfect.

"Well... do you want your other gift?"

"Other gift?"

"I got you a Halloween knife set just in case I backed out on the flower thing."

"Johnny, if you got me flowers and Halloween themed knives then you're not walking tomorrow."

"... I got you knives."

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

listen I love stede a lot - I think he's the bravest character in the show. he changes everyone he meets for the better. he embodies what I think of as the thesis of the show. if he wasn't the way that he is, the show would not be very good, imo.

but in ep one he gives his pirate crew notes on the raid they just did as though they were a community theater troupe and his notes were 1) complimenting his own opening speech as "very inspiring" and 2) complaining that that the crew wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about robbing two poor fisherman of a single plant.

during the raid his narration went "some men are born to be pirate captains, others learn on the job. me? well I'm a pretty solid mix of both" as though he has any idea what he's doing.

and AFTER the raid Olu has to gently point out to him that piracy isn't a game to the rest of the crew.

There's a reason that Rhys Darby was the only person capable of playing Stede without making him seem like a total dick. And I think that's bc Rhys was able to convey the idea that Stede's behavior in the first few eps is coming out of this deep sense of insecurity - he's doing some Stede-y things (flag making! paying the crew! bedtime stories!) that are great but he's also pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing. And it's the pretending that makes people cringe with second hand embarrassment. While also, often, seeing themselves in it and feeling a great deal of sympathy for Stede about it.

The reason Stede is like this is because HE thinks there's something deeply wrong with him, a belief that has been solidified by everyone around him his entire life, and therefore he needs to do everything he can to hide that deeply wrong thing about him. When he unpacks that and embraces the things about himself he originally thought were embarrassing (being weak, pathetic, soft, etc), he can stop pretending. And that's when other characters grow to love him! And so people will sometimes call him cringe because they aspire to be cringe like him, to embrace the parts of themselves that they were punished for and live more authentically.

because he changes! that's the point! he moves from cringe (pretending to be someone he's not) to cringe (being true to himself, always a deeply vulnerable thing to be) and it takes a lot of hard work. that's what makes me LIKE him as a character. that's what I think makes him the bravest character on the show. because he doesn't start out perfect. he's a puppet who grows into a real boy and that means that for a period of time he was a puppet, and that's okay.

[munsonluhvr]

blurb idea! friends to lovers!steve harrington finding out you make flower crowns when you babysit the kids, and him wanting one but also being macho still

FLOWER PRINCE

a/n: daww, this is such a cute idea. hope u enjoy <3

The warm breeze tickles your skin, the sun shining brightly down on the park that you sit at with Mike, Will, and Eleven. Off in the distance, Dustin and Lucas hang off the monkey-bars, screaming every so often. Beside you, your boyfriend Steve Harrington watches from the bench of the picnic table as you sit on the grass weaving the stems of flowers and strands of grass together intricately.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Steve asks, bending forward to look at your project in your hands. He glances over at Mike, Will, and Eleven who are scattered around the grass, plucking their own flowers.

"Making a flower crown," you say simply, glancing up at Steve. You hold your craft up to his eye sight. "I taught the kids how to make them and it's kind of our thing that we do every time we come to the park."

Eleven, who finishes her flower crown quickly, places hers on head, smiling with satisfaction. Will continues to work on his but Mike shakes his head as he weaves the stem of a flower together with grass strands. "This is such a girly thing to do."

Will shrugs. "I don't know, it's kind of fun."

You hum, smiling at Eleven and her crown. "You can go play with Dustin and Lucas, Mike. We won't be offended."

Mike looks from you to Eleven, his eyes lingering on her for a second, then looks back to his flower crown. "No, I'm good."

You turn your attention back to Steve. "Why don't you make one?" You lean against his legs, gesturing towards the ground. "Plenty of flowers for you to make one."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know, what if someone from school comes by and sees. Mike is right, it's kind of... girly."

You roll your eyes; boys and their dedication to their masculinity. You decide then that the crown you're making is for Steve. Your nearly done, adding one last flower. You stand up from your seat on the grass, standing in front of him. Reaching out towards Steve, you place your little creation on the top of his head. "There," you say, pleased with your handy work. "Now you have your King Steve title back."

Steve smiles, realizing that you're giving him your crown to him. "I never lost it."

You laugh, moving to sit on his lap. His arms wrap around you, cradling you against him. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, then moving to lean against his upper body. "I don't know, Steve. You're baby sitting the kids with me while wearing a flower crown. I'd say you're a softie now."

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

Can u give me ur full thoughts on Alex? I feel like a lot of the shit he gets is unjustified. Yeah he says some sus things to the farmer (no matter what gender you are!) but that's only because he's horribly mislead. The man just doesn't know any better. I mean think about it. Abused and neglected, lacking good male role models, and he's got no friends in town except for maybe Haley and you know how she is. If she was told "you're probably not into sports" she'd say "ew no" because sports would get her all dirty.

I always saw him as just a loner-type guy who doesn't know how to talk to people. Spent too much time trying to develop his cringe ass macho man persona that he forgot to develop social skills. I don't think that makes him a bad person though. I could honestly talk for hours about how toxic masculinity is a monster that preys on young boys and eats them alive if they're not careful. But even with societal pressure being so intense, growth is possible. Alex is still a massive sweetie in my eyes. A big dumb doofus who loves his granny and wants to lift heavy things just to impress you.

I would love your thoughts though!!

#1 Alex fan anon ⚡️

Yeah. That's basically more or less my thoughts😅

It honestly depends on what you experience that can greatly color Alex's character

This might be one of my more controversial takes

(right next to being a Clint apologist💀)

but stick with me here-

If you grow up in a similar environment to most guys, you can understand why Alex is the way they are. It's not exactly easy to be soft or mindful when you have a harsh environment around you. Many guys end up coping with repressed thoughts and feelings in unique ways to soothe themselves. I think Alex's was sports. (Idk just a hunch) but it often leads to a lot of blind spots or misunderstandings of the world.

I've seen a lot of people like Alex and I've had a couple of friends in high school like that too! And I can tell you... yeah... it comes from SOMEWHERE, A lot of them ain't doing so great mentally.

Heck, I do that! Whenever I get uncomfortable with a situation or feelings I don't like, I make jokes to ease my brain. Releses a little serotonin ya know what I mean?

Not all coping mechanisms are bad tho, we kinda have our own form of bond and support that from the outside looks cold and uninviting but I promise you, we would die for our brothers. (plus the cold uninviting part is just a front)

"I know the homie told us to KYS over Roblox but he bought the group Freebirds during the gym session so it's all good!"/j

I can't say much from the other perspective but I would assume they would see Alex as a HUGE BIG RED flag and someone potentially dangerous or someone who brings back bad memories which is why he is dunked on so much. Even if they don't mean it, they have a higher chance of hurting people.

I don't think Alex is THAT type of character at all, I think he has good intentions but as you said "no social skills". I can see why others would interpret that way though.

It's funny that you mention how Alex doesn't have many female role models cuz... you have

Haley- Lazy and super not into dirt.

His mom- got sick and DIED.

Granny Evelyn- frail weak old woman who makes cookies and tends to flowers.

Those are not exactly SUPER GREAT examples of women who like sports.

Personally, I get why people say that playing a male farmer is better for Alex's story arc along with confronting George about the whole being gay thing but I think the female farmer has elements that I don't think are acknowledged much.

From my perspective anyway, I think a Fem farmer shows Alex a better example of women and what they can do VS grandma, dead mom, and Haley... along with learning boundaries and how better cope with repressed feelings and MAYBE-

-even address the fear of the farmer DYING of a sickness just like his mom or the intrusive thoughts of believing he'll end up like his father making him overprotective and paranoid about the farmers well being...

but you can ignore that...

Idk man, that's just the way I view it. You either like Alex or you don't :/

I ain't saying anyone's wrong to feel the way they do

[wraithdance]

Damn I'm still getting notifications on this so I guess I'll elaborate on it for funsies lol

Content warning: AFAB!Reader, terrible british-isms, Reader is a firefighter and idk shit about that life lol, very NY/American coded, explicit language. Shorty getting tossed around like a hot n ready in the next part I just love to set the scene a lil lmao

Part one: The Firefighter

Your mother had always told you two things: 1) not to write a check that your ass can’t cash and 2) A hard head made for a soft ass. Unfortunately for you, you never listen. 

You were on the downward slope of a 48 hour shift and feeling every bit of it. Your captain had taken no mercy on the splitting headache you were nursing and designated you to crowd control on the northern sector of the McCallen theater. The heat of the flames enveloping the old building didn’t help with the already stifling heat wave. Sweat slides down your neck in uncomfortable pools that soak the under clothes beneath your turnout gear. 

While in the middle of reassuring an elderly woman whose granddaughter was in the building you’d caught sight of a large form attempting to cross the barrier from the corner of your eye. You’d whipped your head around so fast you’d damn near given yourself whiplash.

“Hey, get back behind the line!”

Your words die in your throat when you come face to face with the fucking grim reaper. He’s broad and dressed in layers of black from head to toe. His eyes, or what you can see of them from behind the eye black, bore into you from beneath his balaclava. 

What the fuck?

There's a moment where your throat closes up and your muscles lock despite your body screaming at you to run the other way. It’s not until he seems to dismiss you and turns like he’s going to continue on his merry way, that you gain back your senses. 

“Hey I said get back behind the line are you crazy?!” You bark, grabbing the sleeve of his jumper.

Who the hell wears a sweatshirt in the middle of June?

“This is an active fire! ” 

He looks at your offending hand and makes a sound you can only describe as a snort.

“Ya’ can bloody see that.”

This motherfu-

“Good job jackass,” You say between grit teeth “I’m glad you can see the fire, funny enough you can also see it from behind. the. damn. LINE!” 

The grim reaper twitches and if it's possible he looks bigger as he turns his full body towards you. 

You’re too hopped on adrenaline to give a shit about his posturing. You’d worked with sweaty macho guys for six years at the station and had been around servicemen your whole life. There wasn’t a pissing contest around that you would ever back down from. So, you puff out your own chest and meet him head on. 

“Sir, I’m not going to ask you again, get behind the barrier.” 

“Or wot.” you think you might actually catch a murder charge.

“You get behind the line like I asked you to, big boy, or I’ll toss your ass over it myself” You hiss. The big fuck just narrows his eyes in consideration. You’re preparing to make good on your threat, when another voice cuts in.

“Riley, What's the problem here?”

Great two of them. 

The second man is not as broad as the weirdo in black, but still just as barrelled chested. He maneuvers around the barrier like it's just a concept and not a physical deterrent. You have to roll your eyes at his boonie hat and the outdated beard. He had the same fashion sense as your grandpa.

He stops beside the reaper's right side and crosses his stocky arms over his chest, his beard twitching as he takes in your stance. There's something in his blue eyes that you might call appreciation, if it didn’t make you feel like you were on a serving platter. 

You really didn't have time for this shit!

“Like I told your friend here, I need you both behind the line, you're getting in the way of my job and I’m tired of repeating myself.” 

It might have been a childish thing to do but you can’t help yourself when you make rude shoo-ing motions with your hands. 

The newcomers' eyes tighten inauspiciously. An imperceptible look passes between the two mountains that you can’t read. It makes you shudder which only stands to piss you off further. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had some hyper masculine fuck question your authority while on a rescue. Hell, it's come to be expected at this point and you’d joined an online support group for firefighters who experienced the same for being non-cis white dudes. 

The issue is whatever energy these monsters disguised as men are emitting, is disorienting. Normally you would have asked for back up after the second time your request was ignored. Yet your radio still sits at your shoulder and your hands are shaking beneath your thick gloves. 

After a beat the man with the boonie hat speaks, identifying himself as the leader of the two. 

“Listen love, we’re SAS, we can help with the rescue if you just point us in a direction.” 

Your eyes are rolling before he even finishes, you knew it. Macho men.

“That’s nice and I’m auditioning for the Wiz! We have everything under control gentlemen but thank you for the offer!” 

Maybe it’s the migraine or the lack of sleep, but you can’t help but to dig the knife in deeper just a little bit. You’re smiling with your teeth and speaking in a baby voice before you can think twice about it.

“Why don’t you big strong men sign up for the next station tour and I’ll give you a nice badge and a sucker!” You clap your hands in mock excitement, before flattening your tone and expression “So that way, when you wanna play firemen, you can do it without jeopardizing the professionals! Fuck you very much, get off of my scene.” 

Looking back it was probably the thing that doomed you, but you’d been too caught up in the moment to see it that way. Your radio had rattled off with the sound of your captain calling you in for an assist.

You hadn’t thought to really sus out the reaction of the men you’d bitched out. Had been all too happy to give up your position dealing with them to a wet behind the ears rookie. 

After getting the fire under control and surviving the end of your shift you’d gone home and face planted on the couch. After chugging down your weight in electrolytes and ramen, you joined the server for the firefighter’s support group.

You’d been soothed by the jokes your online support system cracked when you retold the clusterfuck of a day. Before logging off for the night you get a friend request from some random account with a string of numbers and a skull icon. You snort but look through the profile. Scoffing when you see that it was made in the last hour.

Fucking bot accounts. You’d have to ask the mods to check out their spam filters next time they were on. 

<SR141698 has been Blocked!>

Ugh, you needed a bath.

Preview of next part:

“Open your mouth.”

Your eyes widen and you struggle against the tight grip around your chin. His warm hands only tighten, causing your lips to pucker. A husky laugh sounds from behind your shoulder and you can feel the brush of cotton against your ear.

“C’mon pretty girl, open up, captain just wants to give you a sucker.”

[hotheadedhero]

Daft Pretty Boys

AN: I was going to try and get something Halloween-like out but it's been busy lately. Have some fluffy angst with Raph, instead :D

Raphael x Reader

Warning: kinda angsty, soft-hearted Raph ahead :)

When you blessed the turtles with your bright presence and inevitably befriended them, Raphael didn’t realise just how much of an emotional rollercoaster it would be. As a person, you are amazing. You always make a point to engage with him and his brothers, even for the small things. Other than April, they’ve never felt more welcomed by human company before. The thing is, if he were to put one fault on you, it’s your taste in men. 

You fall fast and hard, and it’s not because of their looks. It’s the ones who have this idea that they know they look good: the confidence they exude, sharp-witted flattery on the end of a hook that you can’t help biting into. You get caught, pulled in, they have their fun, and then you’re chucked back into sea awaiting the next juicy-looking cast of bait. One would think you’d be smart enough to not fall for the same routine tricks over and over again but here we are.

Each time you say, “He’s really sweet,” followed by a “This one is different,” but he never is. You’re always taking that chance, betting on the next guy being Mr Right, only for it to end in heartbreak, and every time Raph’s at your aid when you come crying to him. That isn’t said with any malice for you. He will always be there to pick up the pieces. Maybe broken pieces of these stupid shmucks if he just had five minutes alone with them.

You grasp so desperately to hope. Raph would commend you for your optimistic persistence if it didn’t break him to see you in tears. There’s only so much one heart can take. He doesn’t want you to become some calloused husk of your sweet self, too afraid to take another chance. He doesn’t want you to end up like him. Raphael knows he’s unloveable. Regardless of his appearance, he has a temper - one that he keeps as far away from you as he possibly can. His feelings for you never seem to pass despite how much he tries but he isn’t meant for love. That isn’t how this world works. You, on the other hand, should be cherished and he’ll beat the next sorry sucker who does any less than that.

How? How can someone be so foolish to drop you like these men have? He doesn’t get it. Were it him, he’d spend every waking moment appreciating you, letting it be known just how precious you are and how lucky he is to be the one to call you his. But he isn’t. The same daydream can play as many times as it likes, it’s never going to go in that direction. He needs to keep reminding himself of that.

You just deserve so much more than the cards you keep getting dealt. You’ve probably got to be the sweetest person he’s ever had the luxury of meeting. A little bubble-brained at times but that’s in part what makes you so cute. It’s also why you end up in and out of these short-lived relationships, he reckons. Much like now, for instance. It’s almost routine, weirdly systematic in a way, how you waddle into the lair glassy-eyed and red-faced wearing that grey sweater - the one he calls your breakup sweater - that’s two sizes too big for you. So much for the macho man with the green eyes. Making it to one month is a record, so there’s that at least.

Raphael doesn’t say anything, just holds a hand out whilst the other cradles the back of his neck. By now, he’s learnt that there’s nothing he can say. It’s better to wait on you until you manage to find your words. You slowly trudge towards him and smack your forehead into his chest. All he can do is stand there and stare at the top of your head whilst he battles the urge to pick you up and take you away from all this frivolous bullshit. His arm falls to his side as he watches you, and you just about say what he would expect you to.

“I really thought this one would be different,” you whimper quietly and the hiccup in your throat makes his chest burn. “He seemed so genuine.”

Raphael’s heart clenches. He wants to scream that he’s the one who’s genuine, that he’s the one who’s been here through every heartbreak, every tear. But instead, he swallows his words, feeling the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on his chest.

He pats the top of your head, almost awkwardly, and sighs, “I know.”

A pained laugh muffles against his chest. “I’m the problem, aren’t I?” you ask rhetorically, playing it off as some joke at your own expense but it only angers him further.

“It’s not you,” Raph replies, a hint of a growl edging into his tone. “They’re the ones who don’t know what they’re missin’.”

“But there’s a common denominator here. It feels like it’s me.” You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Like, maybe if I was just different-”

“Stop right there,” he interjects, his brow furrowing. “You are not the problem. They are. Trust me on that.”

You always say the wrong things about yourself: the things he thinks about himself on a daily; if he was different. You are such an honest person and yet you lie so frequently when you talk about yourself. A nasty bi-product of those worthless scumbags treating you the way they do. You want to believe him on his word but you also can’t ignore the facts. It’s always the same song and dance. You stupidly cling to hope, searching for the silver lining that never seems to come, and end up in this sad mess of a person.

Raphael watches as you pull away, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of reality. It’s painful to see you so vulnerable, so exposed. He wishes he could shake you out of this cycle, snap his fingers and make you see what’s right in front of you. But he can’t. All he can do is stand there, the silent sentinel, while you cry into the fabric of your sweater. The moment lingers, heavy and full of unsaid words. He wants to tell you that you deserve better, that you should never settle for the likes of those clowns who don’t recognize your worth. Yet, the words stick in his throat, tangled with his own fear of inadequacy.

He clears his throat, trying to break the tension. “Tell you what, let’s grab a couple sodas and a slice. Sit up top for a bit, yeah?”

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know if I can eat right now, Raph.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to get outta this gloom. Plus, I’m starving,” he responds with a half-hearted attempt at humor, but the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Finally, you yield. Begrudgingly, he might add, but food and the fresh night air is what you need right now, especially seeing as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment all day crying. He takes whatever pizza he had leftover - it’s only lasted because Mikey has luckily been out - along with a couple cans and leads you through the sewers. Whilst he’s essentially forcing you outside, he goes at your pace, never pushing you beyond that. Sure, it takes longer than it should but you get to a nice rooftop eventually, and before you know it, he’s already got you venting with a slice in your hand.

“And then he pulls out the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shtick,” you say and Raph follows with a quiet “Of course, he does,” before you continue, “and I swear, I could’ve just slapped him.”

“You should have.”

You hum shortly against a bite of pizza and shrug. “Ah, the moment’s long gone, anyway.”

The two of you glance at each other with a small laugh before returning to the view ahead. This feels better. Much better. Once again, your knight in shell-y armour has helped you bounce back from your foreboding. If you had it your way earlier, you would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch some bad reality TV to cheer you up. Not where Raph is concerned. He’s soft-natured when you need that shoulder to cry on but knows when to crack out a bit of that tough love, too. You’re always thankful for that - him - and you hope he knows just how much of a difference he makes.

"Hey.” He nudges you with his elbow and you look up, noting the light smirk on his face, though the seriousness behind his eyes isn’t something to be ignored. “Next asshole that breaks your heart, you just point me in the right direction.”

"And be an active participant in murder? Not a chance," you laugh and playfully swat him, earning a low chortle. You think you know what he’s getting at and it’s sweet in weird kind of way. With a perma-smile now glued to your face, you rest your head on his arm and speak more gently, "Thanks, though."

He glances down at you and tempts the idea of stroking a hand over your head. His fingers clasp into a fist and he looks ahead again, taking a gentle breath before responding quietly, "Yeah... don't mention it."

[sciderman]

Round boy + mask = square jaw

Pointy boy + mask = egg

Why?

wade's mask is masc. (hahaehehehahaeo...)

wade does a lot to mask his soft interior – he worries a lot about appearing soft.

[x]

he's GETTING SOFT (and peter loves it. he loves when wade gets soft.)

[x]

underneath it all, wade's soft and round. no matter how he tries to hide it.

[x]

wade is always hiding it – to way more extreme and destructive measures than peter, actually.

it's kind of funny, wade's insistence that peter needs to be honest to himself - because wade's the poster boy. wade finds it difficult to be true to himself, because he doesn't even know which "self" is true at this point. he's constantly pretending to be someone or something else.

something that'll please others. make him more palatable. more entertaining. make the audience side with him, even if he thinks he's undeserving. fake it till you make it.

sometimes i think about how wade lost his virginity the night before he enlisted (because he was worried the guys would make fun of him if he was a virgin.)

of course they made fun of him anyway.

he doubles down - he puts on the macho air that everyone expects from him. he can be the bad boy. he can be the rugged antihero that is a total jerk but everyone loves anyway because he's the tough guy. it's why you'll never get to see what adult wade looked like pre-weapon X - you'll see wade in his teenage years - but once he enlists - that's not wade wilson. he's constantly playing a role. cool action hero, whatever'll get him the girl.

it isn't until weapon X that he's forced into a position where he can't hide anymore. everything is on his skin. plain as day, for everyone to see.

[x]

deadpool becomes the mask wade can hide all his damage and his insecurities behind because lord knows he can't hide a thing when he's out of it. like a lobster out of his shell. he's soft, and pink and tender. he couldn't survive without that hard red shell exterior, to make him look tough.

peter's mask is also masc, but his mask is peter parker.

spider-man is kind of funny. in that – outwardly, it does look similar to deadpool's performative masculinity. he has "-man" in his name, for christ's sake - but - it's not, really. you wouldn't say spider-man is overly macho. even as much as peter insists it is - nobody buys it.

you'd definitely, by all accounts, call peter parker the more masc aligned of the two - peter wears baggy clothes, he's kind of uptight, a little bit boring - and spider-man - spider-man's downright flamboyant - from his mannerisms, his jokes, and his tights. oh, and his fluttery little web-wings. he is fruity.

spider-man, in his tiny fruity little tights: YEAH. take a look at ME, girls. this is what true manhood looks like.

you might say the confidence it grants him is what makes him macho - but i think the fun thing about peter's gender journey is his embracal that actually - confidence isn't necessarily a masculine trait, and that - actually, his gender icons (save for uncle ben) are largely confident women.

i think that's why olive is so dear to me - that peter's leaning into a confidence and self-assuredness that doesn't come from being conventionally masculine. and, in fact - peter parker might be so shy and insecure because he's trying to fit in a box that doesn't fit him.

i think spider-man is more of a playground for peter. a place where he can experiment with his gender and his sexuality and the concept of "manhood" and what it means to him.

he can explore, because the anonymity grants him less social pressure to fit in. society can despise spider-man, and yeah - it'll get him down, but the repercussions are relatively little. peter has to fit in, to survive. and, as peter parker, he's terrified of those repercussions.

peter has such a desire to explore his identity and understand himself better - but, under safe, controlled conditions - whether that's under the anonymity of his mask or... or with people, who make him feel safe.

so, spider-man is peter's outlet to be fruity without repercussions. peter's og dragsona, actually. so – lithe, and curvy. he is so shape.

[creepy-friday]

Life as a female proxy

Notes: I only included the main 3 minions working under Slenderman and I might write more to include more residents!

Warnings: misogyny mentions,violence,a little suggestive in Brian's part

Masky gives the impression of being "the leader" altough there isn't one,he just likes to estabilish dominance to have the feeling that he's in control and that he's top shit.

He holds a grudge against you from the simple fact that you're a woman who has a high position over the mansion and the other creeps

He can be horribly misogynistic at times,arrogant and bossy,mostly due to the fact that all the women in his life left him(including his momma)

Clockwork would put him in his place really quick,Jane just ignores him and Nina avoids him like the plague.

He likes to show off to you in any way he can,he simply craves your validation and attention and is doing anything to get it one way or another, as long as he gets a reaction out of you it doesn't matter if it's negative or positive to him

He has closeted mommy issues

Tim's other side is different,whenever this soft human side comes out he's way more chill,often even tries to form a better relationship with you and understands if you ignore him. Sometimes he feels like he's losing his mind but it became a normal feeling to him and everyone in the manor at this point.

Tim snapping back to Masky or overlapping with him became the norm,that's why he takes his pills everywhere he goes

Hoodie/Brian differs a lot from his best friend. He respects you and actually listens to your opinions and plans,especially knowing how important your abilities are to the team

His personality can be described as a cold mentor during missions,he's quick and straight to the point,but since your humanity shows more often than his he grows soft on you,he won't admit it out loud tough

He looks out for you when no one else is,and altough he's in the wrong of thinking scenarios that wouldn't happen between the two of you,he's still secretly waiting for an opportunity for the both of you to get lonely,he can help with that

He's observing most of the time,whenever Toby has a panic attack and Masky bullies him for it he won't intervene until it gets bloody or the situation calls for it

Surprisingly Brian has the highest emotional intelligence out of the other proxies

Toby is a mess when it comes to you. At first he wanted to show off by being a big macho stupid boy,knowing you're kinda stuck with his ass so he wanted to profit off of it

Since all women except the ones from his family showed more disgust than interest in him,he became insecure,especially now with the scar on his face and how sickly he can look from time to time

Toby had crushes on girls he found pretty during missions but every chick rejected him whenever he had the balls to come to them

If you show him a grain of warmth and basic human respect his brain will automatically assume he has a chance with you

He already thinks he can have a chance with you tbh,he can be delusional to himself. He would be shooked tough if you ever tell him that you do indeed find him cute/likeable, a nice person like you with a freak like him would make a good joke,or so he thinks.

He snaps more often around you and that makes him even more anxious because of how he views you/his feelings towards you platonic or romantic,it's hard to make the difference

[ihni]

Billy has learned to make himself seem like a manly-man. It's mostly been for survival, because Neil complained less when he was acting all macho, but he's grown into it. Wears it like armor.

So naturally, he refuses to use chapstick. Lip balm. Whatever. Because that's for girls, not boys. Not men, like Billy.

The thing is, though, that winter in Hawkins, Indiana is ... cold. Cold as fuck. And Billy's lips get chapped. Like, the hurty-flakey kinda chapped. He's pissed about it, too, because no one's gonna wanna kiss him with lips like that (and he's made it this far partly by being desirable).

Most importantly, Steve's not gonna wanna kiss him.

Steve's lips are always soft, and pink. Even in the bitter cold. But then again, Steve uses chapstick. He's shameless about it, too, doesn't hesitate to bring it out and reapply it even when there's other people around who can see. He even smacks his lips a little, after, and then smiles widely as if to test the softness of his lips.

If Billy smiled like that, his lips would crack and bleed.

Steve thinks he's being silly. "Come on," he says, "it's chapstick. It's not gonna kill you."

"It might," Billy murmurs and thinks of what would happen if Neil saw him put it on. Louder, he says (because the kids are close by, and they don't know about him and Steve yet), "Give it up, Harrington, I'm not a pussy. I can stand a little cold."

And it's not a lie. He can. He just wishes he didn't have to.

Steve smiles knowingly (and widely), and waits until the kids are otherwise occupied. Then he reapplies his chapstick again, and then pulls Billy around a corner and kisses him, right on the mouth. Chapped lips and all.

It's not until Steve backs away and smacks his lips, that Billy realizes that a) he'd closed his eyes and b) there is now chapstick on his lips, too. And it doesn't feel all that bad. Feels pretty good, actually.

He looks at Steve. "You sneaky bitch."

Steve just smiles and backs back out in sight of the kids. "Hey, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad" ... He throws something at Billy, who catches it out of instinct.

It's chapstick. Of course.

When Billy looks up, Steve wags his eyebrows and makes a kissy face, a challenging glint in his eyes. "If you don't like it, you can always give it back."

[starryeyedjanai]

rolling the devil’s dice

kinktober prompt: sweat | 4k | explicit tags: omegaverse, alpha steve, omega eddie, camboy steve, scent kink

read on ao3

Eddie's an idiot. Certifiable. Undeniable.

Just- he knows better than to do shit like this.

But that doesn't stop him from being an idiot from time to time.

He started watching this camboy's streams - King Steve, he calls himself - months ago.

He was just looking at first, just browsing to see what was out there, see if there were any cute alphas he could find to jerk it to.

He thought his type was maybe a bit different from what he assumed was normal for everyone else. He's not interested in the macho alpha type, the type to get possessive and mean and demanding when they sniff out an omega slicking up.

No, he tends to go for softer types of alphas. Alphas who don't think with their knot, for one. Alphas who let their omega take charge sometimes, let their omega lead them instead of forcing them to follow, who don't subscribe to the whole "weak omega, strong alpha" shtick.

It's not even that he doesn't enjoy being taken apart and pieced back together by someone - he loves being a good boy for another omega - someone who gets it, someone who isn't demanding it from him. He loves betas who can get him out of his head for a little bit.

It's that most of the alphas he's encountered have been ones who expect him to be the one who's submissive and that grates on his fucking nerves. He does not like alphas who think that sex between them can only be one way.

So he specifically has to go searching for ones who don't fit the typical "alpha" vibe.

He has to leave his small town for the city nearby and go to alternative clubs to find alphas who aren't afraid of getting their asses fucked and showing how much they like it. Because those tend to be the ones that won't act like a raging asshole when it comes time for Eddie's heat.

He thought it might be a tall order, finding even one alpha online who checked all his boxes, but maybe it was presumptuous of him to think that. But he grew up in a small, backwards town in Indiana. The alphas here were hardheaded assholes who couldn't take no for an answer most of the time and wanted their omegas to be perfect, petite housewives.

But online, there's a plethora of alphas to choose from. Alpha women and men who spread themselves out on a bed and take themselves apart for their audience to see. Alphas who jerk themselves dry, whimpering the entire fucking time.

Eddie doesn't really have the spare money to subscribe to all the lovely alphas he sees when browsing OnlyFans for the first time, but he can spare enough money for one subscription, which means he has to make a choice.

He finds a few people that he might like to subscribe to and then he finds him.

King Steve.

The name alone almost deterred him because - really? - an alpha who names themselves "king" is probably exactly like all the alphas from bumfuck, Indiana.

But he's pretty and that draws Eddie in. He's gorgeous with soft looking hair and pretty moles scattered all over the parts of his body Eddie can see.

From the one-minute preview clip of his pretty face with his mouth dropped open, sounds of him jerking off his probably equally pretty out of frame cock and the couple free lewd pictures to lure people in, he can see that he's fucking beautiful. It's enough to make Eddie pause his search and look deeper, go to his twitter page and see more photos and short video clips.

There's a tiny video clip on twitter of him fucking himself open with a large dildo and it has Eddie wet and aching in the 60 seconds it takes to watch it.

He's phenomenal. And exactly what Eddie's looking for.

So he subscribed to him and he's tuned in for his weekly live streams every week since.

Steve seems like he was practically made for Eddie. With his strong, muscular body and his charming persona, he's everything Eddie wanted going into this.

The problem lies with Eddie's inability to separate a fan-based, parasocial relationship from real life. Because he feels like he's starting to like Steve more than is normal for someone just subscribing to his OF.

The little tidbits he learns about him from his streams - and he doesn't even know if any of it is real, that's the whole fucking problem - make him like Steve even more.

From hearing about his school life - he's studying to become a physical therapist - to hearing about his best friend who's a beta who he once thought he was in love with. He likes learning these things about him. He likes interacting with him in the chat before the live stream starts because Steve is witty and funny and Eddie is so, so stupid.

He likes it when he types something into the chat during a performance and Steve responds to him, personally, because in the moment, it feels like Steve is purposefully searching for Eddie's username in the chat. He does it a lot, but maybe Eddie is just sending in better material than the average ur so hot comment or the weird shit some other people send.

He knows it's bad when he starts thinking about plans for his next heat and his first thought, instinctively, is to tell Steve about it because maybe Steve can - what, exactly? Drop what he's doing wherever he is in the world and fly to Indianapolis?

Eddie flushes and feels so stupid that he even thought to tell him. He doesn't mention it in the chat during the next live stream but he desperately wants to know how Steve would respond.

He doesn't even know him but he likes watching him so much it's apparently turned his brain to mush.

During the following live stream, though, Steve says he's thinking about setting up a contest of sorts and wants to gauge the audience's interest. The gist of it is whoever wants to can pay their way to getting Steve's PO Box info to send him an item of their choosing - it could be scent related or a toy they want him to try out, but Steve will use whatever it is to make himself come on one of the streams.

It's stupid how Eddie is instantly dripping slick, thinking about Steve opening up a pair of Eddie's underwear on stream, covered in his scent and his sweat and his slick and his cum and jerking off onto it, mixing their scents together. He doesn't really believe in fated mates or anything, but if he did, he'd think this would be the perfect opportunity for the universe to prove him wrong.

It's also stupid because Steve has to have tons of subscribers and more than a few of them are interested and are already dropping tips large enough to cover his entry fee.

So Eddie knows it's stupid. He knows he probably won't be the one picked, but he wants to do it anyway. He works an extra shift to cover the cost of entry and the shipping fees and the special scent-proof packaging to keep the scent of his items ripe for Steve.

The deadline to ship stuff to Steve falls right after Eddie is scheduled to have his heat so he knows exactly what he's going to give him.

He spends his entire heat thinking about Steve. He thinks about what it would be like if he were with him. How Steve would probably let Eddie take charge, let him ride Steve's knot until he was satisfied, would let Eddie fuck him when waiting for Steve to get hard again after knotting him.

He just knows in his bones that Steve would take such good care of him, be a good alpha and get him off as many times and in as many ways as he wants.

He comes a ridiculous amount of times and his sweat and slick absolutely soaks through the underwear he's wearing and the shirt he placed beneath him. His scent is permeating both items and he's almost purring at the thought of Steve smelling them.

When he's all wrung out and pleasantly sore from fucking himself over and over and over again, he uses the scent-proofing packaging to bag up his underwear and shirt.

He hesitates before closing the box he's shipping them in and ends up throwing in his guitar pick necklace.

He's so embarrassed to be doing this. To have such a weirdly strong connection with a stranger who wouldn't give him the time of day if they ever bumped into each other in real life. And now he's giving him what feels like a piece of himself.

Eddie groans. It's not like he'll even be the one who's chosen, you know?

The chances are slim and he doesn't know what's going to happen to the packages Steve doesn't choose. Is he going to throw them out? Is Eddie literally just throwing his money away on this? Maybe so.

But he can't help but desperately wish that it's his package that'll be chosen.

He waits patiently for the stream where Steve will choose and the day it comes, he sits in front of his laptop impatiently.

He's been jittery all week.

He can't believe he spent so much money on this. On the special scent-proof packaging so that the scent didn't fade and so that he didn't get weird looks when he went to drop the package off. Plus the shipping costs. And on top of all that, he pays a monthly subscription to this guy, and he paid additional money to be sent the address of the PO box where the package should be delivered.

He's sweating, sitting here thinking about Steve opening up his package on camera and liking how he smells. He wants that so bad, but he knows there are so many others who sent stuff to him too, and there's no guarantee his package is the one that will be chosen. He called it a lottery for a reason.

And Eddie stupidly threw money he didn't have at him because he's so down bad for him.

When the stream starts, after he does his standard greeting, Steve says, "I had my friend Rob help me out since there were so many packages. You all really surprised me. I thought I'd have maybe ten to choose from and could just put them in a grab bag and pick from there but we had almost 40 packages! Four, zero! So my friend numbered them all and I'm going to do a random number generator so you all can see I'm not cheating."

He holds up his phone and shows them a picture of the packages strewn across his living room with the boxes already labeled in sharpie and then pulls back to tap a few times and then shows them the website where he's getting a randomly generated number. He hits the generate button and it pops out number 22.

Steve turns the phone back towards himself and throws his head back laughing. "Ooh! Twenty-two is a good number. Rob, can you grab that one for me?"

He chats with them for another minute while his friend is getting the package.

"Thanks babe," Steve says when he's handed a package labeled 22 in sharpie.

It's a box that is the same size as the one Eddie sent but he can't be sure it's his. He's biting his nails here.

Steve reads the chat again before opening the box and he laughs and says, "Don't worry, my darlings, Robbie was just helping out and now they're leaving. They said they do not want to be here when the fun actually starts."

He doesn't open the package right away, building the suspense. He puts it aside and starts pulling off his shirt.

"To get ready for whatever awaits me in this package," he says with a wink. It makes sense but goddamn does Eddie want to know if it's his.

He gets his shirt off and Eddie can't even complain because he loves looking at Steve's body. He just wishes he'd hurry the fuck up.

He unbuttons his pants, but doesn't take them off before he sits back down and opens the box.

"Okay, so the first thing I see is a scent-proof bag, which is exciting! That means I'll get to scent whatever's in there. Let's see if there is anything else." Steve rummages around and takes out- oh. Oh fuck.

He takes out Eddie's necklace.

It's his package. Jesus fucking Christ.

He really didn't expect it to be his, but now that it is, a flood of slick flows out of him at the thought of Steve getting to scent his clothes. His fingernails are digging into his palms as he tries to calm himself down.

Steve puts the necklace on - puts Eddie's necklace on. If he wears the necklace for the rest of the stream, Eddie doesn't know if he's going to survive it.

His whole body is tingling with arousal and it's so sudden and so unexpected that he has to get up and pace back and forth for a minute.

Steve starts speaking on screen, so Eddie walks back over to his laptop.

Steve is looking at the pick and saying, "-must be a musician, then? Or you just really like music. I don't- I think this is a band's name on here, but I've never heard of it. I won't say it on stream since that might be like- doxing, if it's your band, but I'll keep this on for the stream." He puts the side of the pick with the band's name facing in towards his chest.

Oh fuck. In his fit of stupidity, he sent his pick necklace that has Corroded Coffin's logo engraved on it.

He can't even take a moment to think about his stupidity because his skin is buzzing and he's more excited about Steve opening the rest of the package than he is worried about accidentally getting doxed. He's more excited than he has been about anything in a really long time.

He might have a slight Steve problem, but it's okay. It's manageable. It's going to be fine, watching him scent Eddie's slick and cum coated clothes is going to be fine, right?

This is going to sate whatever obsession he has with him and that'll be the end of it. Then he can move on, right?

He hopes he's right.

Back on the stream, Steve is getting ready to open the scent-proof packaging so that he can scent the clothes. It's - the anticipation is killing him.

He says, "I'm gonna get started now, I think." He grabs his box cutter and cuts into the scent-proof packaging to open it. He tosses the box cutter on his desk and reaches inside to grab what Eddie sent him.

Eddie's on the edge of his fucking seat, watching intently. Watching for any minuscule detail, any indication that he likes what he smells.

It turns out that he doesn't need to be looking so closely because as his hands touch the items Eddie sent, Steve is groaning and bringing Eddie's underwear up to his face to get it even closer.

Steve gasps out, "Fuck- it's. This is- I can't even talk right now, what the fuck?"

He's gripping Eddie's panties - because he went out and bought a sexy pair of panties for this, another expense he doesn't have the money for - tightly, inhaling long and deep pulls of breath in, making these sweet noises in his throat.

Eddie's not going to survive this at all. He's dripping wet, and aching about it.

Steve moves one of his hands below the view of the camera and knocks the box to the ground and groans deep in his throat. They can't see what he's doing from this angle, but it's a little obvious with the jerky movements of his shoulder.

He groans, deep and drawn out, like he normally does after a long session with one of his dildos drawing those noises out of him.

He scoots his chair back, likely remembering that he's live and people probably expect to see his cock at some point tonight. And-

He's-

Fuck.

His dick is already out - just pulled out of his pants hastily - and it's pulsing cum out over his fist, which is gripped tight around his knot. He- he doesn't ever knot on camera.

He's talked about it before, about how it's usually too much and leaves him too sensitive without an omega hole to milk it, so he doesn't knot even off camera most of the time.

But he's.

He scented Eddie's panties and immediately got his cock out and knotted his fist.

The thought makes Eddie dizzy. Makes his already shot nerves go haywire and he's kicking his pants off before he can think about it, still staring at Steve's cock, wet and glistening, still twitching and kicking out come.

He gets a hand around his cock and can't stop himself from planting his feet and thrusting up into his fist. Seeing Steve like this - and because of him - has him on the edge immediately. He's soaking his underwear much like he did during his heat, smearing his scent everywhere.

He can't look away from the screen. He sees Steve still taking in breaths of air with Eddie panties under his nose, sees the way he starts to get shivery after another minute of squeezing his knot with his hand.

Eddie jerks himself hard and fast, fucking up into it and moaning, louder than he has any right to. Watching Steve get all sensitive like he talked about, without a hole, without Eddie's hole around his knot to make it better, has Eddie gasping and coming in no time.

He gets his come everywhere, up his shirt and on his chair and on the floor, and it's like they're in sync for a second, both of their cocks leaking and twitching in time with each other before the comedown. Like Steve was just waiting for Eddie to get there before he stopped coming.

Steve whines on the screen, tightening his fist around his knot. Eddie squeezes his cock in sympathy. He wishes he was there, wishes it was his hole that was wrapped tight around Steve's knot instead of his fist. He wishes he could scent Steve right now, have Steve scent him back, nose buried in his neck.

He shivers thinking about Steve licking over his scent gland as he writhes on his knot.

Steve lowers the hand that has Eddie's panties in them. He looks dazed. Genuinely, truly dazed.

He looks into the camera, lets out a shaky breath, and says, "So that was, um, that was unexpected."

He's still got tremors running through his body, fist still tight around his knot. He's absolutely covered in cum. It's all over his fist and dripping down onto his pants, streaked up his chest. Eddie wants to clean him up with his tongue.

He looks down at himself and seems to realize the state he's in.

"I hate to end this early, but I have to, I need to- I still can't think right now. I gotta go," Steve says, looking to the side where he can see the chat. "Sorry, guys. Hope you enjoyed that, but I'm a mess and need to shower."

He ends the stream before Eddie can even think about saying anything in the chat.

And what would he say anyway? Oh, hi! I'm the one whose scent just rocketed you into knotting your fist for the first time for the entire internet to see. Care to chat?

He's so pathetic.

He exits out of the ended stream and cleans up the mess he made before showering.

He has a lot of thoughts in the shower. He never once believed in fate or mates or any of that, but his scent alone was enough to have Steve knotting up and that has to mean something, right? Or maybe he just wants it to mean something.

He could be alone in thinking that and Steve could already have someone, maybe whoever Robbie is. He scrubs a hand down his face and tries not to let his mind wander too much. Fuck.

He knew he shouldn't have sent anything. It's just his fucking luck that he'd be the one picked and now what? He's even more obsessed with Steve, getting jealous over imagined boyfriends and thinking they might be fated mates.

He gets out of the shower and towels off.

He tries not to think about it over the next few days, but his mind keeps on coming back to it. Of course it does. He's never seen anything like it. Never seen or heard through the grapevine about anyone who this sort of thing happened to. With just a scent, an alpha popping a knot. It's like something from the movies. He can't not think about it.

He contemplates messaging Steve, because of course he does. But he doesn't want to seem like he's desperate for attention. There's probably a hundred of his followers who are claiming the package belonged to them. It's not like he put a note or a return address on the package other than the store he shipped it from. He didn't think this far ahead because he didn't think there was ever a chance of anything like this happening.

He wonders if Steve cares who sent it. If he's laid up with his boyfriend while Eddie panics over this. If he's back to his normal life outside of streaming and not thinking about this at all.

He wants Steve to be thinking about it.

He has to message him, right? He can't just let this go - there's a more than likely chance that Steve, this alpha he's been obsessed with for way too long, is connected to him in some way.

He's still not sure if he believes in fated mates and all that, but this has to mean something. It has to.

He's determined to figure out a way to word a message that doesn't have him looking completely pathetic, but it turns out he doesn't have to.

When he logs back onto the website, there's a message waiting for him. From two days ago.

Hi! So I think you're the one who sent me the package that I opened on camera last week. At least I hope you are. I've been looking, trying to find who you were because a bunch of followers sent packages and you probably already know that so why am I telling you this. But a bunch of people messaged me saying they sent the package, but none of them could tell me the return address on it or even what state it came from. Anyway, I wanted to find you myself since it doesn't seem like you reached out unless I missed it? I looked up the band on the necklace in the package, and one of the members is named Eddie and they're from the same state the package was mailed from and then I went through the people who tipped and were sent the PO box to send stuff to and your handle is EddietheBanished and that kind of fit, so. So I'm hoping it's you. Like, I'm really, really hoping it's you. And I'm hoping you'll want to talk. It's okay if it's overwhelming and you'd rather not deal with it, but I really, really want to talk if you do. Let me know. Stevie

part 2

[spotsupstuff]

watchin rw vids where they assign the iterators voices hurts my soul quite a bit cuz they basically always sound so so off.. like what do you mean Moon's an american woman who most likely uses Instagram, is full of herself and is working on her influencer career... (that should be Innocence, fight me on this) why the HELL is Pebbles' voice so deep and macho, that is Not the pink baby fail boy whom I love to go moderately mad over, please I'm going to die cuz of macho Pebbles nuuuuurgh

they basically already have canon voices please listen to em, Moon sounds like a glitchy Hatsune Miku. when she speaks there's always a ghost of a smile shaping her words. she sounds curious, wide-eyed- ready to wonder and dive into theories. she's so unbelievably soft and comforting and like she would teach through playing games with her students. she sounds like someone who would clap her hands alongside the beat even if she doesn't care much for music. she'd run into a field and twirl her dress and laugh all the while. she sounds Happy, she's glad to be alive Pebbles sounds like a suppressed nerd duck which speaks through its nose instead of the chest. he sounds like a tired smartass!!! there's this tiny rasp to his voice, but the kind I'd more blame on sadness than anything else. he sounds vulnerable!!! like he could be so easily hurt, like he's just a frail sprout but there's also a curt bite to it. he's like grass- thin, but that just means it can cut. he's frowning while he's speaking, he's exasperated, I can hear it in his voice!!!! get big macho Pebbles away from me he scares me

[blanceyblance]

*looks around* Can you guys tell me where are you seeing Alpha macho Irep and soft boy Peri?

Because most of the content I see of them is just little shit/annoying clingy loser Irep and bitchy sassy neurotic mess Peri.

And there is only like 70 works for that ship in ao3 and most is them is co parenting Dev or them being bitter exes.

Honestly, why are we now shaming creators when the ones that write the "problematic yaoi tropes" are in the minority?

[stanskissing]

some soft-ish standip shit for the soul. dipper finally getting the special boy attention he wants :3 dipper miiiight be ooc bu\UT if you squint its NOT because he is a young little baby and i am letting him be one and this is also very self-indulgent bcuz i can.

could be a part two of the jealous dip ask so mentions of stanbel too

dip and stan are curled up in stan's chair watching tv together, it started off a little awkward because dipper was nervous as all hell, but he eventually came around and curled up like a little kitten on stan's lap. his head was resting on his shoulder, back against stan's arm holding him up, legs kicked across his lap. he was half asleep at this point, just enjoying being close with stan and finally getting the special mabel treatment. he nosed stan's neck and curled in further, inhaling his scent and biting back a giddy smile. stan's free hand came up to rest on the side of dipper's leg, pulling him closer and rubbing little patterns into his thigh

stan was absolutely loving this. his little boy finally dropping the macho man act and letting himself be young and vulnerable with stan, letting stan dote on him like he's always wanted to. he tucked his chin on top of dip's head and spoke, you awake down there, kid? it had gotten decently late, mabel had gone to bed already earlier. normally he would've sent dipper with her, but he didn't wanna break him from his little bubble. he didn't get a verbal response just a little nod against his neck. the comfortable silence grew again as the tv played

dipper finally spoke up, um,, grunkle stan,,? dippers voice was quiet and he was clearly nervous, do.. do you think we could um.. do that thing that you and mabel do when you.. you um.. he trailed off after that, mumbling the rest of his sentence into stan's shirt, what's that, kid? can't hear a thing yur sayin',, dipper picked his head up finally, when you- you uh.. make her feel good and all squirmy- uhm-,, stan could tell he was getting himself all flustered, he squeezed dip's thigh, yeah. yeah, i know what youre talking about, his hand slip up further, r4esting on dipper's hip. s-sorry i know- i know it's stupid and it's you and mabels thing and-, stan cut him off, his gruff voice softer than usual, dipper, 's okay, i can take care of you too, if y'want me to. dipper hesitated.. and then nodded, letting stan's hand move from his hip to gently cup his half-hard dick

idk bye i dont feel like fiinishing this im embarrassed

[bryscorner]

summer nights’ - S.H.

summers with steve were nothing short of amazing and spectacular. there was always something special about spending summers with steve that made it seem like it could all of a sudden vanish, but that’s something that you didn’t want to think about.

sadly, your amazing boyfriend had to work, but at the same time…your amazing boyfriend had to work! so to make the time fly by until steve was off, you starting spending your time at scoops just to bother him but also to get some of that cool and sweet ice cream.

once he was off from work, it was off into the night to make up for most of the sunny day that has passed! that summer breeze whisking through the night sky, the all to familiar smell of steve’s car, windows cracked open, his large and comforting hand upon your thigh, stealing kisses at every red light from all the kisses he couldn’t give you during the day he was partly gone, the soft hum of the radio playing a song you two couldn’t care to listen to as you ask him about his day.

‘hey there’s that fun fair in town right? maybe we should check it out!’ you suggest as you can clearly see the corners of steve’s mouth turn upward into that charming smile you oh so adore. the sounds of laughter and delight from the plethora of bodies surrounding the two of you as you admire the vast arrangement of rides and food booths, the bright flashing lights of colors that shines on your stevie’s drop gorgeous face, the soft taste of sweet cotton candy or the saltiness of the pretzel you two shared gracing upon his lips as you steal chaste kisses, the constant “nagging” of steve’s velvety voice echoing through your ears as he deems that he’s strong enough to win you the biggest prizes the games have to offer (mainly at the strength tester games) ‘angel i can without a doubt most definitely can get that bell to ring at the top just watch! it’s steve harrington you’re talking to’

when you try to persuade the boy to go on different rides that steve was most undoubtfully scared to ride (as he tries to act all macho for you of course) as he “protects you”, hearing the boy scream as a sudden toss or death defining turn causes him to freak out as a fit of joyful laughter emerges from your mouth to tease him, or when you two go on the spinning merry mixer and steve can see you shutting your eyes to stabilize you from throwing up, turns out the fast spinning motion was too much for you to handle which led to you hacking out into the trash can (stevie obviously holding your hair back and soothingly rubbing his free hand on your back) ‘alright angel i think that’s enough fun for now, let’s go get you something to drink yeah?’

getting your composure back after vomiting it out in a filthy trash can (and stevie showering you with kisses and saying ‘you did great out there angel, held out until the end of the ride that’s good!’), you can hear the sounds of a canon like boom coming from the distance as the both of you head back to steve’s car to put some of your prizes inside as to not have to heave them in your arms.

looking up towards the sky comes an array of colorful fireworks emanating the sky as you stare in amazement, ‘holy shit that’s a lot of fireworks stevie check it out!’ as you hop onto the hood of his car steve follows suite with a low chuckle as you can feel his strong arm pulling you closer to him, the enamoring all too comforting and familiar scent of steve seeping into your nostrils, snuggling into his side as close as possible as you can hear the pattering and pounding of his heart in tune with the loud booming of the vivid glowing fireworks lighting up this most amazing and spectacular summer night.

stevie couldn’t and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else at this moment, with you adorning his side, engulfing his every being as he feels your head lean into his warm neck, smiling to himself knowing he gets to have an amazing day everyday with you this summer <3