Blitzstrike Oneshots

Tell Me I Am A Man

A/N : I am on monthly thing (fuck my life honestly) and I need to vent somewhere. FTM!Striker because I said so. The title is a lyric from Rocket Ships by Cavetown. Tw/cw for that thing that people assigned female at birth get once a month. Also tw for dysphoria.

Blitzo could tell something was off.

Usually, Striker was up bright and early, even before the shorter one. Blitzo would walk out into the living room and see his boyfriend in the kitchen with a baggy shirt and shorts, making coffee and breakfast. It was one of the many things that Blitzo quietly loved about the taller imp. Striker could be a dick to everyone else, but it was behind closed doors that Blitzo got to see a softer side to the cowboy.

This morning, the sheets were still empty so Blitzo walked out into the living room, expecting to see Striker up in about. However, he was greeted with an empty room. He heard the sink running in the bathroom though, and soon saw a rather disheveled looking Striker walk out of the bathroom, looking tired and kind of upset.

"Oh, howdy mister" he said in an exhausted voice upon noticing the smaller imp staring at him. "Everything okay there?" Blitzo asked cautiously. Maybe he was just tired? But that wouldn't make much sense. He fell asleep at a perfectly reasonable hour and the previous day hadn't required any trips to the living world so it wasn't like there was a reason he'd be exhausted.

"Nothin' I haven't dealt with before" Striker replied, avoiding eye contact with Blitzo. That was enough to clue the manager into what exactly was going on. "Sit down on the couch, Striker" he instructed gently, knowing full well that the cowboy would try to go into the kitchen and make breakfast even in this state. Striker just sighed before obeying and going to the couch.

"Have you taken pain meds yet?" Blitzo asked from the kitchen as he attempted to make the hash browns that Striker liked. "I sure did" he heard the cowboy reply quietly. "Good" Blitzo said as he placed his attempt at hash browns onto two plates. They were a little burnt around the corners, but considering how batshit his other cooking attempts had gone in the past, he considered it a win.

"Do you need any supplies or anything?" Blitzo asked as he returned to the living room and handed Striker a plate of hash browns and a mug of coffee. He always made sure to avoid specific terms when it came to this, as he knew it made his boyfriend even more uncomfortable. After all, those were the terms for feminine things, or at least that's what the packaging always implied.

"No, we got everythin'" Striker replied as he picked up a hash brown and chewed on it. It wasn't anything special, but he deeply appreciated it. "Thanks for the food" he said with a small smile. "You always make breakfast for me in the mornings" Blitzo replied as he combed his fingers through his boyfriend's white hair.

"I coulda done it" Striker countered. "I know" Blitzo replied. "But you don't feel well and I wanted to" he added with a smug look on his face that made Striker chuckle as he leaned against the smaller imp.

"I love you" Striker said in a low voice. He still felt like shit, but being curled up with his boyfriend like this definitely helped. "Someone's going soft" Blitzo teased, gaining a short laugh from the other man. "Don't get yer hopes up, the hormones are just makin' me sentimental" Striker replied. "Whatever you say, Striker"

"How are you feeling?" Blitzo asked after a moment. Striker just sighed, and he seemed both sad and uncomfortable with the situation. "Hey, you know you can tell me what is going on, right? Despite whatever the fuck your little brain is telling you, it doesn't make you weak to reach out"

"I'm just dysphoric, it don't matter" Striker replied quietly, avoiding eye contact with his boyfriend. "Well" Blitzo started, gaining the taller imp's attention. "For whatever it's worth, you are one of the strongest men I know and this doesn't change that"

"Thanks, Blitzo"