#this didn't go where i thought it would but sometimes you just gotta follow the thought

[sunnytastic]

i think dennis' biggest problem with mac's behavior in dennis' double life is mac's automatic assumption they are a couple now, without any input or confirmation from dennis.

mac is not wrong for realizing their relationship extends beyond platonic, he just didn't allow dennis to reach this conclusion as well. dennis hates feeling out of control, but mac publicly exposed dennis' vulnerability in tends bar and then he pushes dennis into doing the couple scheme without realizing dennis is still reeling from, what is essentially, mac's confession

additionally, dennis is confused by mac's mixed signals. mac wants to be a couple but he wants things to stay exactly the same (the apartment), mac tells dennis he loves him but when talking to mandy, mac focuses on their sex life. dennis has no way to discern whether mac's confession and insistence on them being a couple comes from love or lust, and because of dennis' issues with sex, he views these two as mutually exclusive. mac also says he has no problem "pretending" to be in a relationship with dennis for the rest of brian jr.'s life, which of course dennis takes as "i'm going to pretend to be emotionally involved with you to receive the benefits of a relationship (sex)." dennis rejects him because he doesn't want to lose the emotional aspect of his relationship with mac by becoming intimate because he doesn't want to be reduced to being mac's sex object.

what makes this situation worse is dennis' reaction is justified, because when dennis comes home from north dakota, he sees that during his absence mac has made a sex doll in his image in lieu of an actual relationship with someone else. this confirms dennis' worst fears and cements his belief that mac only cares about having sex with him, because if mac was looking for love, he could have found it while dennis was gone.

maybe things would have turned out differently if mac had slowed down and waited for dennis to catch up. maybe if dennis could see mac wanted him without sex, he would have been able to open himself to both. communication could have save them, but mac and dennis are poor communicators and now they are left with a fractured relationship neither of them are happy with

[ericshoney]

Argument ~ Brothers!Sturniolo triplets

Warnings: Arguments, rude comments, angst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having four older brothers was sometimes a blessing but also a pain. They would all help you with school work and friendships, but also scare away anyone who got too close to you for their liking.

You lived with the triplets in LA. Being a year younger than them, it wasn't a massive age gap, but the boys made it their mission to keep a close eye on you at all times. You were their responsibility. They were protective over you.

You knew the guys were filming today, so you had planned to get dressed and head out for a walk. It was a nice day and you just wanted a stroll around the block as they filmed this week's car video. You picked just a t-shirt and some joggers, wanting to be comfortable with your stroll, you didn't think there would be a problem at all. Until you bumped into Chris accidently.

"Watch it, kid." He grumbled, almost spilling the Pepsi in his hand.

"Sorry." You apologised, wondering why Chris was moody.

He sighed as you started to the door. But his voice stopped you.

"Where are you going?" He called, as you stood at the top of the stairs.

"Just for a walk. I know your filming today so I was just going to take a stroll around the block." You answered.

"Without asking." He stated.

"Didn't realise I had to ask to take a simple walk." You said, the sass evident in your voice.

"Don't get sassy with me, kid. You know the rules." He replied, making you laugh.

"What rules! I'm going for a walk, Chris!" You shouted.

"Without asking!" He repeated.

"What is going on?" Matt called as he appeared along with Nick.

"Kid thinks she's the fucking boss here." Chris mumbled.

"I'm going for a walk while you all film." You said.

"Without asking!" Chris repeated once again.

"What's next I gotta ask to fucking go to the bathroom!" You shouted back.

"Woah, lose the attitude." Nick said.

"Yeah no need for that." Matt added.

"What about him!" You exclaimed, pointing at Chris.

"He's not wrong." Nick said.

"What?" You called in shock.

"I mean, if Chris didn't stop you and you just left, how would we know where you are or if something happened to you?" Matt asked, siding with his brothers.

"Your fucking joking." You scoffed.

"No, no we're not." Chris said.

"I'm not a baby! I'm nineteen! I can take care of myself!" You screamed.

"It's our job to keep you safe in LA. If your going to be such a brat just go back to Boston." Nick said coldly.

"You don't mean that." You said quietly, trying to hold back the tears.

"Mum and dad said we're to take care of you. But you think just because your here you can get away with anything. That's not how it works, kid. You gotta follow the rules." Matt responded.

"It's fucking daylight! I'm just going for a simple walk!" You shouted, the anger rising now.

"Go then! Go on your fucking walk! But don't fucking expect anything from us when you get back!" Chris shouted, heading down to the car to film.

You looked at Nick and Matt with tears in your eyes. You sighed and walked out the house, heading to the park that was close by. You sat under a large tree away from anyone and pulled your knees up, crying as you covered your face. You tried to think about why they got so angry. Were they stressed? Or were they just tired of you around?

Your mind wandered as your cries slowed down to a few tears and sniffles. You didn't notice the time until it seemed nobody was around. You checked your phone, seeing it had been over an hour since you had left.

You sat quietly, thinking of what to do. Should you go home? Would the guys still be angry? Should you call a friend? Or would they call your brothers? Or get a hotel? But you didn't have spare clothes.

So many more thoughts rattled through your head at once, that you didn't notice the three figures walking towards you. When you suddenly realised it was your brothers, your feet acted before your brain did. You shot up from your seated position, about to run, when Chris grabbed you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"I'm so fucking sorry! I....fuck. I don't know what came over me. I was just stressed and I know I shouldn't ever take it out on you. Fuck please, kid, I'm sorry." He rambled as he cried, holding you tightly.

"You....You hate me." You stuttered, as the heartbreaking sobs escaped your lips. The triplets all felt broken hearing you cry.

"No, no kid, no we don't. We're so sorry." Nick said, rubbing your back.

"Let's go home and talk about this." Matt suggested.

You nodded against Chris' chest. Not wanting to let go in case you tried to run again, Chris picked you up as you headed to the car. All of you got in as Matt drove home, the car was silent and you all soon arrived back.

When you went inside, the four of you sat on the sofa, nobody saying a word to start with. Your eyes stung with fresh tears, worried for more shouting.

"Hey...don't cry kid. We're so sorry. We just love you and as we said, it's our job to keep you safe. We've just been a bit stressed recently and know it's not fair to take it out on you. Fuck that was really wrong to do and we're going to try and manage better. We're so sorry." Nick said first.

"Do....Do you want me to go back to Boston?" You questioned.

"No, we love having you here!" Matt answered.

"It's my fault really. I'm sorry." Chris apologised again.

"As long as I'm not a burden, I'll stay around." You said.

"Fuck your far from a burden, please, we're sorry." Chris said again.

"I forgive you." You said, making your brothers smile and pulling you into a warm group hug. You knew they would be more careful from now on and you loved them too much to be angry.

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny chapter 3

Danny shivered as he drove to work. The feeling of being watched was way creepier than he expected. The worst part, he couldn't tell if it was all in his head or not.

Sometimes when he was younger he had felt like people were always watching him, turned out he was paranoid.

Danny shrugged it off and started work.

The second he was in he was pulled in ten different directions.

Danny had been treating a patient when on the TV the news was showing footage of a live battle. A bomb had gone off and rubble blocked the ambulance from getting to patients.

"NURSE! TAKE OVER" Danny shouted, he ran out of the patients room as soon as the nurse was there. That attack was still happening.

If Danny didn't do something those injured people were going to die.

"DOCTOR! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!" the head of the ward shouted.

"I'LL BE BACK WITH PATIENTS GET BEDS READY!"

The head didn't hesitate. Danny was infamous for not following orders but he never seems to fail a patient.

"You heard him! Get beds ready!"

The nurses and interns scrambled to ready as many rooms as possible.

Danny floored it to the location. A feeling of dread settled onto him. As soon as he hit the first rubble blockage his car door flew open. He started dragging the rubble out of the way.

The news reporter noticed Danny.

"Just coming into the scene, a mysterious unnamed man has jumped into the frey. He appears to be clearing the road."

The camera focused on Danny who had the road almost clear. Danny motioned for the ambulance to get closer.

Danny rushed further into the disaster area. He pulled the rubble off of pinned down citizens. Danny put as many patients as possible in the ambulance.

There were so many. He couldn't wait for another ambulance.

"This man is carrying two people at the same time! He's acting like a superhero!"

The head of the ward stared at the TV back at the hospital.

"Doctor, what are you?" He asked himself in wonder.

Danny had a worker from the ambulance drive his car back, he wasn't done here yet.

He thought he had heard it.

HELP PLEASE SOMEONE PLEASE I CANTBREATHE.

Yes, those were the scrambled screams from someone soul. If a person was put in an extreme situation, their soul in rare cases screamed.

This worked on Damners favor. Danny scanned the area and then he saw it. A mother and her child. The mother had protected the child and got pinned under falling rubble.

Danny hoisted the rubble off from her and thrust it aside.

The women would get more injuries if she were.moved carelessly. Danny grabbed a thick piece of nearby board.

He laid his coat on the board and put both hands under the women securing her. He hoisted her onto the boards and then used his belt to latch her to the makeshift gurney.

Danny was alone on this war front. He really didn't want to carry a critical patient alone but he had no choice.

"Hey kid, you gotta be quick. Run get out of this rubble and to the open street, if you do that I promise I'll get your mom out of here"

He nodded before sprinting away. Thankfully the women wasn't too heavy. Danny picked her up and do his best not to jostle her as he made his way through the wreckage.

They had nearly been out when a peace of cement fell from the sky. Danny quickly adjusted the women and thrust his fist into the concrete. It broke into smaller pieces, none hitting the patient.

Then they were out. Another ambulance was waiting there for him.

He transfered the women to the real gurney and sat on the ambulance. A soon as he got to the hospital he was running from patient to patient doing his best to swiftly treat each one.

The entire time one name kept repeating in his head. Joker.

The villain who had attacked, the villain documented to have taken the most lives. He needed to pay.

Danny sighed. He was standing on the hospital roof, a good place to go and think.

The patients were all stable and thankfully there were no deaths.

Danny drank his canned coffee and headed back in. What he saw was chaos. One of the patients had gone into shock suddenly and without warning.

Danny rushed to the ED with the patient. They started performing emergency surgery. On the end it was futile.

They could not save the patient.

"Time of death 1:23 AM" one of the other doctors said in a solemn tone.

Danny gritted his teeth and stormed out.

"DAAMM EEIIT, AAAAHHH!" Danny screamed once he was on the rooftop.

Tears streamed down his face. He lost a patient because of that damned psychopath!

Danny wiped his tears and made his way to the hospitals morgue.

"Let me see my patient" he had to help the soul pass on, it was his duty.

The soul looked like a cloud of blue mist. It glowed and swirled.

"Go, be in peace" it evaporated and Danny sighed.

"It's time for you to go home Danny, you need to rest. You've been working tirelessly and you just lost a patient"

Danny was frustrated because he knew the head was right. He had to throw away the cost and get a replacement because it was torn to the point that it was unrecognizable.

Danny sat in his car with his head pressed on his hands that were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

His car made a low rumble sound as he drove home. Once he got there he crawled into his sleeping bag and tried to forget.

Jason had been watching the fight, ready to jump in at any moment. Then he saw Danny, the way he had pulled those people out of there.

There was a clip that had been missed by the news. It wasn't a professional camera the way it kept shaking but through all the dust you could see a slab of concrete falling towards Danny and then he just... punched it.

Later he had heard that Danny's patient had died and he knew he needed to make a visit.

No doubt the doctor was blaming himself. He knew what it was like losing someone you were trying to save.

Jason slowly slid open Danny window. It's lock was faulty, he wondered if Danny knew that.

"Danny?"

He didn't respond.

"I know what it's like to lose a person like that, especially to joker"

Danny sat up and looked at Jason with rage burning in his eyes.

"If I ever meet Joker, I will tear his arms off"

Jason stared at Danny for half a second before grabbing his shoulders, "I knew I liked you!"

Jason let go and reached up to take his helmet off.

"Don't!" Danny said grabbing the helmet.

"Danny, I'm going to stalk you whether you know my identity or not"

Danny sighed and let go.

"Okay but what about the other vigilantes identities. Once I know yours, figuring out theirs won't be so difficult"

Jason paused, considering it.

"Meh, they'll be fine"

Danny shook his head.

"When I'm kidnapped and tortured and all of your identities get revealed, it won't be my fault" Danny said.

Jason grinned and took off the helmet.

Danny glanced at Jason. He didn't look half bad in terms of looks, he considered Red Hood to be pretty handsome.

"I don't recognize you at all" Danny said peering closer.

"Really? I'm Jason Todd"

Danny pulled back like he had touched something hot.

That name, Jason Todd was famous for his soul being reborn due to a hazardous pit called the Lazarus Pit. It must be eating away at him, probably destroying his mind.

"Shit" Danny muttered.

"What?" Jason asked.

Danny seemed conflicted.

"I am about to say something that's going to sound, in a word, insane"

Danny paused, "I'm only telling you this because I feel obligated to help you"

"Help me? How?" Jason asked with a sly smirk.

"With your situation" Jason had a blank look on his face.

"The Lazarus Pit that you fell into is contaminated. It's going to damage your brain"

Jason's eyes grew wide and Danny could see the sparks of the contaminated ectoplasm influencing Jason's emotions.

Before Jason could fly into a rage Danny grabbed him.

"Sorry, this is gonna hurt but I have to filter the ectoplasm"

Danny bit Jason's neck finding a vein. He began sucking out the contaminated ectoplasm, replacing with his own. He tried to think of it like a blood transfusion.

Jason was too stunned to do anything. The longer Danny was like that, the calmer Jason felt.

Finally Danny let go. He waited for a horrified look or a demand or anything.

But Jason seemed almost like he was in a trance.

"Jason?"

He snapped out of it, his hand flying to his neck.

"That felt...nice"

Danny sighed.

"I'm half ghost" Danny said.

Jason looked at him like he was dead.

"I was in an accident in my parents lab and sort of died, my DNA was mutated due to ectoplasm. It was the purest form."

"Your half dead?"

Danny nodded, "what I did was filter the Lazarus water and replace it with ectoplasm."

"Am I all good then?"

"Well no. I can't do it all at one time since it's mixed with the blood in your veins. If I did you could die"

Jason smirked.

"Oh noooooo" he said sarcastically, "looks like I'll have to come back"

Danny rolled his eyes.

"So are technically like a vampire ghost then"

"I am not a vampire!" Danny said.

"Sure, sure."

Danny sighed.

"So are gonna leave or what?" Danny asked.

Jason grinned.

"Naw, Imma stay right here"

Danny opened the window.

"Shoo"

Jason put a hand on his heart.

"Wow, I can see how welcome I am"

"I hope so"

Jason shook his head as he climbed out of the window onto the fire excuse, helmet secure on his head.

"You can't get rid of me Danny"

"I know, that's why I'm getting a restraining order"

"What?" Jason asked in alarm. Danny shut the window cutting off Jason's concerned cry.

Now THAT was satisfying.

Jason couldn't stop smiling. His new friend had the cure to his pit rage and had powers. Not only that, he was medically equipped so Jason wouldn't have to go to the hospital ever again!

It also worried him. Danny was too skilled, he was a big target for any villain.

Danny fell asleep and he slept deeply.

Danny was surprised to wake up to something other than his alarm the next day.

[lemoncrushh]

Live From New York

Summary: Harry's on SNL and he gets a little jealous when he thinks you're not there for him.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1313

A/N: Super silly blurb from 2017 after Harry was on SNL. This was a request (some requests were oddly specific back then lol) that you have a bit of a crush on Colin Jost and Michael Che. It also helps that you know a couple of Rolling Stones songs that are mentioned at the end.

We gotta get away from here...

Harry's lyrics were still ringing in your ears as you watched the stage being set up for the next skit. Your stomach flipped when you realized it was going to be the Weekend Update segment. You liked this skit in particular, having always had a little secret crush on Colin Jost and Michael Che. Perhaps it was their humor, and the way they would sometimes roast each other that got your juices flowing, but they always managed to crack you up.

"Hey, come with me," you heard to your left.

You turned your head in time to see Harry walking toward the dressing room. Hesitantly, you followed him, quickly returning your focus to the monitor set up on the wall.

"Sit with me for a minute," he requested, beckoning you to the sofa where he sat.

Smiling, you did what he asked, taking his hand. "You were great."

"Yeah?" he grinned.

"Mmm hmm," you nodded. "I especially liked seeing you in that white Mick Jagger suit."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe I should add one to my wardrobe."

You scooted closer to him, hiking up your leg to lightly brush against his.

"I wouldn't be against it."

Just as Harry leaned in for a kiss, your peripheral vision caught sight of Colin and Michael on the screen.

"Oh!" you squeaked. "This is my favorite!"

"Um...alright," Harry paused as you sat up.

You thought he might've mumbled something under his breath, but then someone else entered the room to tell him to get ready for the next skit. He rose from the couch as you continued to watch the segment, giggling at everything the two comedians said. When it was over, you noticed Harry had left the room. You felt a little guilty, knowing this was his special night and you'd been ogling over two other men. Determined you find him to wish him luck on his next skit, you opened the dressing room door. Just as you stepped out, Colin and Michael were walking down the hall.

"Oh my god, you guys...I love you, you're amazing!" you exclaimed, the word vomit escaping your throat before you had a chance to stop it.

The two men stopped to thank you, and you chatted for longer than you'd expected. So long, in fact, that you missed Harry's next skit. He was just walking off the stage when you caught up to him.

"That was great," you lied, though you were sure it had been considering the comedic faux beard he had on.

"Really?" he asked with sarcasm and a deadpan stare. He knew you hadn't seen one second of the skit.

Unable to speak, you watched as he walked past you to the dressing room. You stood frozen, feeling more guilt ooze throughout your body than you thought possible. You'd hurt him.

"Harry," you muttered when you entered the dressing room.

No response.

"Harry, I'm sorry," you added.

Nothing.

You stepped closer to him, his back to you as he pulled on his slacks.

"Say something."

"'s nothing to say Y/N. You obviously had something more important to do than to be there for me."

"Harry, that's not fair," you argued. "I was there for you. I mean...I'm here! For you!"

He finally turned then, his eyebrow raised in question. "Really?"

"Yes!" When he just continued to glare at you, you shook your head, throwing your hands up. "I can't believe this."

"Can't believe what?"

"You can't be jealous because I was excited to see Colin and Michael."

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not jealous."

"Then what is it?"

Harry sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I'm just upset that you missed the skit."

"I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to. You're right, I got caught up in the excitement, but I truly did not do it on purpose. You're the one I'm here for. You're the one I'm immensely proud of! You're the one I'm in love with!"

The last sentence slipped out unwillingly. You couldn't take it back, but you also knew you didn't want to. Harry stared at you, his jaw set but his eyes softening. Then he separated the space between you in one stride, pulling you into his arms and kissing you on the mouth.

"I'm so in love with you," he whispered when your lips separated. He pressed his forehead to yours, cupping your face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" you choked.

"For..." he paused, "for doubting you."

"No," you shook your head. "I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate. I know you're nervous."

Harry chuckled, stepping back on his heels. "Is it that obvious?"

"Not blatantly," you grinned, running your hands up and down his arms. "But yeah, I can tell."

"'m so bloody nervous, 'm shaking."

"Well, babe, it's live TV. Of course you are! But you're doing amazing, and I'm so so proud of you."

"I still have another song to sing," he remarked.

"And I'm gonna be watching. I promise."

Oh tell me something I don't already know...

The second performance had gone well, and if anyone had really been paying attention, they could hear your claps and cheers the loudest.

You followed Harry back into the dressing room after the finale and credit roll where he had not surprisingly hugged every single member of the crew. You smiled when you sat on the sofa and watched him get undressed.

"So are you as proud of yourself as I am?"

He flashed his dimpled grin and shrugged. "Maybe."

"Are we going to the after party?" you asked cautiously. He hadn't mentioned it, but you'd heard there was one. You didn't want to rock the boat though, after what had happened earlier.

"Do you want to?"

You cocked your head nonchalantly. "It's your call. I'm fine with it. Either way."

Harry smirked. "You're funny."

"Me? Why am I funny?"

"You're trying not to get too excited again. But I know you."

"It's whatever you want, Harry, really. I was just wondering."

Smiling, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "We can go. I just have to do something first."

"Okay. What's that?"

"Just a minute."

Harry turned toward the rack of clothes at the far end of the room. Then with a smug look on his face, he took something off a hanger, turning again swiftly so you couldn't see. But as soon as he stepped into the trousers, you knew what it was.

"Oh God," you giggled.

Harry looked back at you with a shit-eating grin before pulling on the shirt and jacket.

"C'mere, Mick," you beckoned.

"Wait, I don't have my wig on."

"Don't need it," you commented. "I just want the suit."

Harry finally turned around then to face you, making you grin from ear to ear.

"There he is," you murmured low. "My Midnight Rambler."

"Oh, Jesus," he scoffed which only caused you to giggle more.

"I said, come here," you demanded in a seductive tone.

"Yes, ma'am."

You rose from the sofa as he stepped closer to you. Pulling on the lapels of his jacket, you kissed him on the neck, your tongue licking and sucking his skin, sticky with perspiration.

"Hmm," Harry sounded, turning on his Mick Jagger impression once again. "Looks like someone wants some manky panky."

You laughed under your breath, pulling him backwards towards the couch. Sitting down, you urged him to come with you as you kissed his lips.

"What exactly is manky panky?" you asked. "I thought it was hanky panky."

"I dunno. Is it?"

You laughed harder, sliding your hands down his chest to unfasten the two remaining buttons.

"You fucking Brits," you mocked.

Harry lifted himself up to look you in the eye. "You know what this makes you then, don't you?"

"What?"

"A Starfucker."

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[drchucktingle]

Is there a reason you didn't include an acknowledgements section in Camp Damascus?

yes actually, as man name of chuck i have spent a lot of time FINDING MY IDENTITY through masking and unmasking. in early days there were many more layers hiding me away and it took a while for me to understand WHY. over the last ten years buckaroos have very much seen me find myself through art, accepting and talking about my sexuality, neurodivergence, and gender.

there is ALWAYS a layer to protect my privacy, and to allow myself room for POETRY. example i like to give is that if i post 'i pet a dog today' i might have actually pet a cat, but everything i say is true is some sense. in the early days that truth was stretched farther because even i did not quite understand it my dang self, and it has been my journey to strip away as much of this mask as possible (sometimes called removing my skin) and BECOME MYSELF on this timeline (which is something i have always talked about)

if you have been following chuck for the last decade you will see my older posts were much more abstract and difficult to parse, they reference themes that i have since come to terms with, and this journey to find myself is WHY i have been able to do this. some could say it was the journey of a reverse twin adapting to their new timeline, others could say it was the journey of a neurodivergent artist allowing themselves the freedom to find a healthy expression and conquer their chronic pain from constant neurotypical masking.

FOR INSTANCE this is why i am wearing buckaroo suits on tour now, an outfit that is more true to the INNER ME. i used to answer interview questions with metaphor and now i just answer, only hiding certain details when i need to. i talk less about figures in my life back in billings who were REAL IDEAS and PARTS OF MYSELF but sometimes not flesh and blood or ghostly buckaroos. this is my trot, and this is why i am so strongly against gatekeepers in the buckaroo community. i have been becoming myself long before i knew what that meant.

so when it came time for acknowledgments i realized i would have to acknowledge buckaroos who helped along the way but also ABSTRACT IDEAS who helped along the way, symbols and themes that i have since decided i wanted to leave behind. it was important to me to create a new era of my expression where those abstract layers are respected but also stripped away. i have to respect the inner truth i am trying to cultivate, for way of my mental health and also my physical health.

so i DID write out acknowledgments and sent them to my buckaroos privately, then i said please do not include this in the public book. these days i want to hide behind as few layers as possible, that is my artistic journey now. buckaroos were very respectful and supportive.

very quick before we finish, there was one other small and important reason. i am so sincere ALL the dang time it is kind of my natural state to get very emotional and thankful, that i kinda thought 'i am going to give myself space here to NOT stress out over this for once'. i am constantly thinking about acknowledging others and i LOVE this part of my trot, but doing it in a way that is so defined and specific and maybe even performative (gotta write your acknowledgments now bud. HAVE to do it) felt at odds with my inner way.

anyway thank you for this very good question what a dang treat to talk about this detail and how much it means to me to find truth in my inner trot.

[middlingmay]

Gale Cleven never learned to flirt

And I have some HCs about that and how it came to bite him in the ass.

Here, have 2K+ words of the Buckies being an absolute mess.

Gale managed to reach his mid-twenties without ever flirting.

He and Marge had been inseparable since they were kids. Being together was second nature, so by the time their teenage years hit, the awkward rituals of their classmates trying to catch some guy or girl’s attention just didn't apply. Gale simply told Marge whatever he thought and felt. If it never strayed into the territory their classmates were so eager to dive into head (or pelvis) first; if it never sounded like the cheesy lines boys used to ease past a skirt, then that’s because he was too much of a gentleman. Everyone knew it. Marge’s dad never batted so much as an eye when she spent time with Gale, because he was such a good boy.

Really, that should have been the biggest clue among many before he signed up.

But then he did sign up, and he met John Clarence “Bucky” Egan, who flirted with everyone and everything.

No, really—everything.

One night after one too many beers, John was leaning against a coat rack, regaling Gale with some story or other. He gave a particularly enthusiastic wave of an arm, and nearly sent it toppling over, and him with it. But John's reflexes were still good even three sheets to the wind. He caught it before it hit the ground, set it up right and said, “Sorry, doll. I’m normally a gentleman. I’ll show you, sometime.”

It was the first time Gale laughed until he cried.

Gale had been flirted with plenty, of course. Others back home had batted eyelashes at him and sidled up to him and placed fleeting, coy touches in innocent places.

John did absolutely none of that.

He drawled and called Gale doll, sweetheart, dilly and beau. He’d look Gale in the eye whilst talking to someone else entirely and say, “My guy, Buck, here…”

He pressed their foreheads together and grabbed Gale's thighs tight and put an arm over the back of Gale's chair.

He’d chuck Gale's chin and press hands firm into the small of Gale's back, around the curve of his hip, into the dips of his waist and that was usually followed by a quick, deliberate clench of his sizeable hands.

John outright called him gorgeous, “a real heartbreaker”, and the others would laugh but that was always one of the few times John didn’t join in.

He watched Gale’s training and his flights like a hawk, bugging others over the radio: “Where’s Buck?” He’d bugged those in the tower so much, that he nearly got himself banned.

John sang love songs - badly - and smirked at Buck the whole time.

Finally, in the after, when they’d left Wyoming and Wisconsin behind for good, John had stepped up behind Gale in the kitchen in the house they shared and reached forward. He placed a whisky glass of apple juice on the counter and came round to Gale’s side. He leaned his forearms on the counter and looked up at Gale through tumbling curls he’d been letting grow a bit and said,

“Lookin’ awful lonely there, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to be your fella?”

And apparently Gale was easy, because he downed the apple juice to wet his parched throat and lips and threw his arms around John’s neck and kissed him with a fire he hadn't felt this side of a plane.

He threw the rest of himself at John, too, who caught him easy and hoisted him up on the counter. He pulled Gale's hips forward by the belt loops and ground his own hips up against him just as his tongue slid home dragged and teased out the gaps and moans Gale couldn’t control—

That afternoon, evening and night had been incredible. But, if Gale thought finally getting what they had been stepping towards for all these years would have taken some of the pressure off, he was dead wrong. He craved more.

Only, he had no idea how to go about getting it.

He wasn’t like John. Never had been. Flirting and being so damn bold didn’t come easy to Gale. Truth be told, he’d never has a reason to flirt before. And for the first time in his life, John was being absolutely no help.

If Gale didn’t know him any better, he would have said he was being shy.

But ain’t no man who could do those kinds of things with his tongue got any business being shy.

And Gale knew John wanted it, wanted him, just as badly. He caught the heated looks; heard the aborted gasps when Gale did something - anything - that showed off his physique (and his brain, he’d later discover). Christ, he felt it every time he woke up before John in the morning.

But it didn’t seem fair to always leave it to John. John had done the bulk of the legwork throughout their whole relationship, even before they finally figured it out. It was Gale’s turn.

So, he started easy.

The next morning that he woke first, the heavy weight of John at his back, he buried his smiling, blushing face in the pillow and rocked back into Bucky’s hardness. He did it harder than he expected, and Bucky woke with a groan pulled from the depths of him and grabbed Gale and pulled.

Gale revelled in his easy and rapid success and coyly teased, “John. You woke me up with that thing.”

And John abruptly released him, full of apologies and sweet kisses to his shoulders before he toddled off to the bathroom, leaving Gale painfully disappointed.

Disappointed, but not deterred. His next idea involved Bucky’s favourite hobby: lookin’ at Buck. There were horses stabled in a field nearby, and Gale had permission from the owners to take them out for some exercise anytime he wanted.

John had never been, but agreed readily enough when Gale asked him to come along.

Gale made sure to wear his tighter pants, and when they got there stripped off his shirt so he was left in only his tank, and mounted a horse called, of all things, Major.

Gale didn't go overboard. He was still workin’ an animal that demanded respect and care. But he made sure to show Bucky the flex of his thighs, the roll of his hips, the strength in him, staying in the saddle when Major wanted to jump.

He got a little lost in it and wasn’t sure how long it had been. But when he looked up, John was gone.

He found him back at the house, stumbling down the stairs red-cheeked, glassy-eyed and a little breathless. And Gale knew. He knew that look; had seen that look so many damn times since they were cadets in basic.

He looked at John with such vicious fury, that he’d gone and done that without him, that John had turned tail and given him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

Gale was going to pull out every damn hair on his head. He’d tried everything he could think of: pressing up against Bucky whenever he moved past; biting his lips like he knew John loved. He even rubbed Coppertone on John’s shoulders and back when he was out doing yard work in the heat one day. But, when Bucky had turned to him and rasped a husky, “Thank you”, Gale got so worried that John was dehydrated, he’d rushed back into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water and glowered at him until he drank it all, before fetching him another one.

One day, Gale had had enough and decided to take a leaf out of John’s book. He was gonna flirt with that man like he’d seen John do a dozen times before, even if it made him feel like the stupidest man alive.

He allowed himself a small whisky for courage. In return for John dramatically reducing his alcohol intake, Gale sometimes, rarely, let himself indulged and shared a glass with John.

He downed this one in one go and headed into the living room where John was trying to pick a record.

Gale sidled up to him, placed his arms around his waist and said, “Hi darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?”

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled so wide, and leaned back into Gale's arms. “Oh, I dunno. My ma warned me about guys like you.”

Gale thrummed with excitement that John was playing along, finally, finally getting the damn hint. He let his hands move from John’s hips to the spot on his belly, just above the waistband. His fingers tickled and traced along the hem. “Guys like me?”

“Mhmm. Y’just wanna get me outta my skirt.”

Gale's breath hitched. He moved the palm of one hand to John’s thigh. Heavy and slow, he stroked it up and up, letting John feel the drag of each finger. “I think you’d look good outta your skirt,” he mumbled with a nip to John's ear. He stilled his hand on John’s upper thigh and with one finger, drew a teasing line across the expansive width of it. “Maybe keep the stockings on, though.”

John choked on a laugh, on thrilled disbelief, and Gale grinned into his neck and let John turn in his arms.

And the best part, Gale quickly decided, was that for the first time ever, he managed to make John blush—at the mention of women’s stockings no less, which he had much more experience in than Gale.

Gale rejoiced as John careened forward, tongue slipping straight into Gale’s panting, waiting mouth, and Gale whimpered in the dizzying satisfaction of it as they fucked their tongues into each other and their bodies writhed standing there, in a promise of what was to come.

But then, John pulled away. Gale watched him suck on his own tongue, like he was savouring the taste of something, before clarity and realisation descend over John’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “That make sense.”

Gale frowned, even as John drew him in close and pressed their foreheads together so softly and asked, “Wanna go to bed?”

Gale could have crowed. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.”

John brushed a hand through Gale’s hair. “Yeah. Lets get you all tucked in, before you wake up with a sore head.”

Drunk. John thought he was drunk. And rather than giving Gale what he wanted, he was trying to be a gentleman and send him to bed. But Gale was too frustrated to be endeared by the evidence of John’s goodness. Not tonight. No siree.

He almost screamed and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddamn it, John! I’m not drunk!” He even stamped his foot. “I am trying to fuck you!”

John just stood there dumbstruck while Gale raged.

“I have been trying for days! But you, for the first time in your sorry life, have become as dumb as a bag of rocks! How come a girl used to just have to look at'cha long enough and you were all over her, but I try every trick I got and nothing!”

That jolted John out of his Gale-induced stun. “Tricks? What tricks?!”

“Oh I don't know: how about rubbin' against you like a damn bitch in heat the other morning!”

“You said I woke you up! You haven’t been sleeping good!”

“And showing off with the horses—!"

“That was on purpose?! Buck - I left because I got hard watching you! I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of perv! No one should feel like that around an animal!”

“The I rubbed you down with Coppertone?!”

“I was gonna! I got that one and I was gonna, Buck! I swear to God, but then you made me shotgun water and started yellin’ at me about dehydration!”

Gale had worked himself into a fervour and paced the living room, barely looking at John.

“After that first night, you ain’t come near me like that again. And I know I’m hopeless at this kinda thing, and you got a lot more experience than me. But I don’t want it all to be on you. And Christ, John, I was starting to think you didn’t want—what are you doing?!”

John’s shirt was on the floor and he was using one hand to wrestle his undershirt over his head and the other to unbuckle his belt.

Muffled under the fabric of his shirt Gale heard him say, “You said you wanna fuck,” he finally pulled the shirt over his head and his curls sprung free and wild, “we’re gonna fuck.”

Gale stood with hands on his hips, still in his lecture pose. “Right here?”

John lost the belt and went for the buttons on his pants. “Right here.”

Gale drummed his fingers against his hips and stared as John dropped his pants. “Well…that’s, good.”

John snatched Gale by the belt and dragged him him. “Don't be getting shy on me, now.”

And normally that was exactly the kind of thing that would send all of Gale’s bravado running for the hills, but he’d been so desperate for so long that he pounced on John before he even made the conscious decision, and together they undressed him in record time.

John got him on the floor, somehow, and twisted and flipped them so Gale was on top, and Gale looked at him with one eyebrow arched in breathless judgement. “Really?”

John nodded wide-eyed. “Oh, yeah. Really. I’m serious, Buck. I don’t think I can go near those stables with you again. It’s indecent.”

Gale gave an experimental roll of the hips, and when John keened and bucked underneath him, Gale clenched his thighs and drove him down and brought him back under control easy. So he didn’t see that much difference between the skill this would take and what he used to work Major. But still. After what he’d put him through, John didn’t deserve to have it too easy. “Hm, I don’t know. How long you gonna last like this? You got a lot of making up to do.”

And John looked mortally offended, but he’d learned something about Gale through all of this too, and said, “About a long as you will when you see me in those stockings you’ve been fantasizing about.”

And Gale’s hips jerked without his permissions, and things descended beyond the power of words after that.

Later, as they languished on the living room floor with the throw from the couch tossed over them to ward of the evening chill, John turned to him and said, delighted, “You could just ask me to fuck you, you know. Ever thought of that?”

And Gale smirked and nipped at the finger tracing his cheek. “Don't count on it.”

[small-sinclair]

Clingy brahms with separation anxiety having a breakdown after reader went out for groceries (malcolm isnt here) and reader coming back to him laying infront of the door asleep with ouffy eyes and then they take him to the bedroom and cuddle with him and he wakes up shaken up and they(reader) comfort him?🥹

Its can be any pronouns ;w;

Alone

Okay, this is my first time writing for him, so let me know how I did!

Gotta love me a clingy Brahms... but what if this is the reader's first time meeting him? What if the reader never knew who he was until they leave?

Brahms Heelshire x gen!reader

You hated to leave the house this time of year. It's cold, wet, rainy, windy, and gross out there, but you have to get a few things. Malcolm wasn't coming to the house until the end of the week, and to add insult to injury, he's come down with the flu. So, why should you risk going out while he got the flu? In this weather?

You wrote a sticky note, telling him where you were going, but you needed to tell him in person. You remember that your parents left without telling you once, and it scared you shitless. Yes, they left a note, but it still wasn't the best thing for you.

You sat the doll down in the living room with some of Brahms's favorite teddy bears, making the warmest cuddle pile that you could muster. "Brahms, honey, I have to go to town for a moment, okay? I promise to be back as soon as I can."

"No," you heard from the walls, the little boy calling for you. "Don't leave Brahms."

You fixed his little jacket and straightened his hair just a tad. "If you are on your bestest behavior, I'll let you have extra ice cream tonight--"

"Brahms... wants y/n," the voice said again on your left. the little voice echoed throughout the living room and it nearly broke your heart. "Don't leave me."

But you have to get some food. You have enough to last two days, but it's Tuesday. You can't have that. What type of caretaker would you be if you let little Brahms starve? What type of person would you be if he didn't have everything he needed? You let out a tired and quick breath and closed your eyes.

You stood up and went to the coat rack. You started putting on your warm jacket when you heard the walls crack as if there were rats. It's been doing that lately. More often than normal, actually. You've been here for a handful of months being the doll's nanny, and you loved it. Everyday was a new adventure with Brahms. Everyday, something new happened between you and the doll. The ghost of the boy even started talking to you more and more. You thought you were going insane, but he made it clear that it was him. The silence between you two was filled with bits of joy and happiness. The more you watched over Brahms, the more your heart swell for the doll.

As for his ghost and the walls moving? You couldn't make out if his was trying to scare you or make you nervous. Either way, a new rule was made: No Jump Scaring the Nanny. After that, Brahms's doll stopped moving from one room to the other, and you were thankful for that. You didn't want to have a heart attack every time you turn around and meeting a still doll looking back at you.

The house never felt empty when you and the doll hung out, you following the rules as close as you could. You and Brahms walked around the house every other day. You would carry him with such care as you talked about anything and everything. You loved seeing the art hanging on the walls, and you loved telling him daring storied behind some of the paintings. The house never felt alone with you around, and you felt as if he was thankful to have you. Maybe you're his first friend? Even at night, in separate rooms, you never felt alone. You always felt as if a guardian angel was watching you while you slept. Sometimes, you would feel as if your angel was sleeping next to you as the end of the bed, sitting on the edge, or leaving a kiss in your hair.

You weren't alone, y/n. Never were alone.

You went back into the living room and your face fell. The doll moved from the cuddle pile of teddy bears to your keys on the counter. He was sitting on it as if he could stop you from leaving, but he had to face it that he was just a doll, not human.

"Brahms," you breathed as you went to the keys. You pick them up then picked Brahms up. You carried him to the cuddle pile again. Turning, you took your jacket off the couch and placed it over him like a blanket. "Can you be a good boy and stay here? Not trash the house like last time?"

The last time you left, it was just to get the mail. When you came back, the library was turned upside down. Malcolm helped put things together while you put Brahms in time out, sitting him in a chair, facing the corner of the wall. That night, you had a heart-to-heart with him not to turn the house inside out whenever you leave. As punishment, you didn't give him his goodnight kiss or read to him. The next morning, you woke up to a drawn picture made out of crayons of some flowers, and there was a written apology on the back of the drawing.

"Stay," the boy's voice said again, but it sounded like it was over you. You looked you, jerking your head to see nothing by the ceiling. "Y/n shouldn't leave Brahms."

You looked back at the doll and placed a kiss on his head. You stand and took one last look at the room. "I will be back in two hours, okay? I promise."

"Don't go!" You heard something far in the house break, and it sounded like glass. "Don't leave me! I'll be good! Brahms will be good!"

"I'll be back!" You promised. "I swear!" You opened the front door and left, locking it behind you. As you started down the steps, you could've sworn you felt eyes watching you with hatred and fear. You looked back at the house then went to the car. "I promise," you whispered.

You started your car and left the Heelshire Mansion.

****************

As promised, you were back within two hours with a five bags of groceries and fast food. You got Brahms a Happy Meal to make up for leaving. You knew he'll be mad, but you hope he'll understand. His ghost was different to deal with sometimes, but you were happy with it. He wasn't the worst kid you've looked after, but he wasn't a saint either. Some days were better than others, but you always kissed him goodnight and read to him in the rocking chair in the den.

But you would be lying to yourself that you didn't enjoy leaving the house for a while, too. If it wasn't for the wind and the rain, it would be a halfway nice day. Maybe you would take Brahms on a drive once the weather gets better outside. You think he would love to go on a drive to the bookstore and back! He could pick out new books and stories for you to read, and you can get a cake pop and a hot cocoa...

Brahms would love that.

You unlocked the door and pushed the door open. "Brahms!" You announced. "I'm home--"

You dropped the bags as you found a grown man in the hallway of the house. He wore light grey sweatpants and a dirty white cutoff, showing different sized scars over his skin. His dark brown hair was curled and untamed, greasy and wild. You wanted to scream and call the cops, but something caught your eyes. He wore a mask that looked just like Brahms's face. The more you looked at him, the more familiar you felt with him. It's like you've known him your whole life being in the house taking care of the doll.

You closed the door behind you and picked the bags back up. He was out like a light, sleeping heavily in the hallway, clutching your jacket. You could see his mask had tear stained streaks over the clay, and you felt bad for him. If this was Brahms, the doll you've been caring for, you'll have to tell not to sleep on the floor because you haven't swept in a while.

You took the bags to the kitchen and put away the cold items before coming back to him. Carefully, you lifted the man up and hauled him to the couch. You laid his head on your lap and just looked at him. The man looked so close to the doll's face, and it almost scared you. There wasn't a ghost in the house. There wasn't a boy's ghost haunting the doll. There was him, and he's been here the whole time. His parents must've hid him away from the world, and you felt sorry for him.

But you should be scared. You should be terrified that there's a stranger resting on your lap, but you didn't fear a thing. The paintings of a young boy around the house was in your grasp. The mountains that he climbed and the laps he made throughout the house just to be near you must've killed him. You wondered how many times he wanted to hold your hand or hug you. You wonders how many times he thought of you when he was alone.

His parents hid him from the world, and that's not right. That wasn't right.

Well, at least he listened and didn't tore the house apart...

You looked at the grandmother clock in the corner of the living room then back at man. It's dinner time, and you thought of the fast food on the counter.

Gently, you shook his shoulder. "Brahms?" You asked in a whisper. "Brahms? Sweetheart, it's time for dinner... Brahms?" The man curled into the lab and buried his face in your stomach. You almost laughed; he reminded you of a puppy. "Brahms, time to wake up." You shake him a little harder this time, and he stirs. "Honey? Wake up," you say, shaking him again.

Slowly, the man sits up and looked at her with a sleepy gaze. It took him a moment to process where he was. When his eyes met yours, he scurried away from you, backing up from on the couch to the be on the other end. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes: panic, fear, sadness, and hurt. He looked at you up and down the around him. How could he let you see him? He didn't want to meet like this. Not like this! He thought of showing himself to you in a couple of weeks, but this? No. No! This wasn't want Brahms wanted!

His thoughts stopped flooding as soon as your hand touched his. He looked at your hand then at you. "Brahms?" You whispered. "Are you... Brahms?"

You watched his Adams apple bob then he answered in the little boy's voice that you've been hearing for months, "Yes. Please don't be... mad at Brahms. I was... scared." He wanted to curl up and hide from you forever, but he saw your sad smile.

You tilted your head. "Why would I be mad?"

"Brahms left his spot," he answers shyly. "Brahms's a bad boy." His voice cracked as he remembered you telling him to stay right there in the pile. You told him to stay put but he didn't! He's the worse person for not listening to you! You've been nothing but kind to him.

You shake your head. "Oh, Brahms... it's okay. It's alright. You're not bad." Then you realized how truly big the house was and how he felt. How many years did he feel alone? How many times did he watch his real mother love a doll instead of him? He's alone. He's so scared of being alone. "You've must've been so scared of being alone again, huh?"

He nods. "Always alone. Brahms likes y/n. Y/n doesn't make Brahms feel..." he looked around the living room then at the doll in the teddy bear pile. "...alone."

"Well," you said, coming closer to him, taking both of his hands, "you will never be alone, sweetie. Not while I'm here."

"But you left."

"I came back, didn't I?" You asked, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. "Right? I promised to come back to you, and I did. See?" You offered him a happy grin. "I didn't break my promise."

Brahms looks at you then down at your hands. He's always imagined what your hands felt like in his, and he melts. Carefully, he brought your hands up to his mask to let you touch the smooth glaze and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. Under his mask, he smiles and starts crying. He loves you with all his soul, and his lungs filled up with nothing but flowers for you. All for you.

"You were so brave," you praised. "Such a good boy for listening to me. Thank you for not destroying the house."

His eyes locked on yours. "I'm good?"

"Always been good, Brahms." You glanced at the counter where the fast food sat then back at him. "Let's eat dinner, okay?"

"Cuddle after that?" his little voice asked.

You nodded. "After eating. Sound like a deal?"

He nods as he leans forward into your hands, wondering what they would feel like against his skin. But, that'll be for another day. Both of you would have to take small steps before your lips would trace his, before his hands would hold yours every day.

Small steps, y/n, until you both don't feel alone.

[mentally-a-slut]

Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)

Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.

Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!

You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"

You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"

She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."

"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"

Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"

She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.

Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.

You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.

You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?

You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.

You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.

Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.

You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."

She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"

You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.

"Nothing!" you said too quickly.

"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."

You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"

"S'alright, I know you were."

His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.

"I don't- you-"

You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."

"I didn't mean to stare!"

He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."

You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."

You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"

His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."

"What was obvious?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."

All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"

Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."

"Is this a joke?"

He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."

Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Just good?"

Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."

He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."

You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.

"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."

You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.

"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."

A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."

He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.

"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.

With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.

When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.

When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."

His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.

"Pretty girl."

"So good for me."

"So needy."

You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."

You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.

"Arthur!"

He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"

"Got a job for you!"

He sighed. "Be right there!"

You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."

He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.

"We'll finish this later."

[gaoau]

would rather kms than make my only winbre post be about Suo's stupid ass, so it's time to talk about Nirei cause i love him. i read a post and my blood started boiling i dont fuck around so now i gotta defend him with my life. also cause im sick and tired of him not being deemed marketable enough to be included in merch and collab illusts when he's a whole—if not the most important—third of the main trio. (theres something to be said about Tsugeura too, considering they don't use him but love using Kiryuu, but that's a different conversation.)

anyway, on Nirei and the exceptionality of being ordinary.

manga spoilers btw also disclaimer im not eloquent at all i just say things.

there's something about Nirei that just simply isn't special and i think that's wonderful. not in a mean-spirited sense; Nirei is the most regular out of anyone in Furin, so much so that he had to buy an ugly shirt he didn't even like to stand out. he's just a kid with a notebook and a simple backstory trying to follow a hero's example. he's nothing extraordinary, especially seeing the people he's surrounded by. physically, he's very limited, which he knows and doesn't ignore at all, so he can't do much in fights. no one is more acutely aware of his own limits than Nirei. i was reading the first couple chapters again and it breaks my heart to hear his efforts be dismissed as "playing hero," because Nirei is the biggest hero in this whole manga.

it's true, yeah, he can't fight. he's more like another average citizen of Makochi than he is a Bofurin member sometimes. he lacks fighting abilities, his diplomacy isn't particularly the best, and he's two seconds away from going into cardiac arrest at almost all times. but it's not like he gives a shit. every single time he gets beaten into the ground, he picks himself back up immediately. he takes hit after hit, time and time again, because no matter how battered or defenseless he is, his drive to stay and protect the town is ridiculously strong. he does go down when he can't take any more (keel), but it's with improvement and training that he manages to throw his first—albeit useless—punch (noroshi or whatever this arc is called idk). improvement that, mind you, comes from recognizing his own limitations.

some have called him reckless (Suo), but i disagree, because Nirei is right. i know the kids would rather look out for him and have him uninjured by the end of a scuffle, but he doesn't need to be coddled. everybody else jumps into a brawl and gets a broken nose regardless of their fighting skills. Nirei isn't any different. he knows he's limited, he knows he can't fight, he knows he's nothing special. he risks it all anyway, because even though he wasn't built for fighting, he's more than prepared to try over and over again until his efforts are enough to make a difference. he's looked at Sakura's back and thought he couldn't match him, that Sakura gets back up even when he's almost fully tapped out, that he's not needed because Sakura's stronger and will be okay without him.

maybe he's right about this, too. i'm inclined to disagree, but i understand where he's coming from. Nirei chases, Nirei can't stop running because he'll fall behind all these phenomenal beasts that can hold their own. i'm so glad the conclusion he reached was "okay, i gotta step up my game," but i'm not really surprised. this is Nirei Akihiko we're talking about and, i think Suo put it best, he wants to become stronger more than anybody.

he's been at a disadvantage this whole time, "playing hero" rather than being an "actual" hero, but he has a goal. if he has to tear himself apart to stand next to Sakura, he will. he doesn't have to, of course, he's already more than useful the way he is, but when you're so ordinary that you get lost in the crowd, standing beside someone so exemplary makes you want more.

honestly, Nirei's fucking wild. lil bro's actually crazy. we've seen characters go apeshit, but no one in this entire manga is nearly as insane as he is. i appreciate Suo telling him to slow down and chill out, cause he was fully intending to kill himself learning how to fight with zero foundation. my guy was more than ready to actually fight Endo. he meant that. it's a good thing he's properly learning how to defend himself, considering he probably lacks the muscle to go on the offense. those are his limits and he knows that. it frustrates him, but it definitely does little to stop him, because look how big his back is. i hope somebody tells him, after all of this is over, that he's doing more than enough, more than great.

to be fair, fighting isn't even where he shines, and that's okay. he's not strong enough to beat anyone's ass and he doesn't need to be, either. he doesn't need to be a leader like Sakura or a devotee like Sugishita or mimic whatever the fuck Suo's got going on. in the words of my favorite pink curse, the real heroes are the ones who support from the back, and that's exactly what Nirei does. he's said it himself, he wants to guide Sakura all the way to the top and he can, because he thrives in being another citizen of Makochi. he's a regular person and i think that's what makes him so compelling and important.

there's something so fascinating about his simplicity. he really is nothing more than just an ordinary kid. put him in a normal high-school classroom and he'll pass his midterms with a 75. he recognizes what he's good at, of course, he knows the town inside out and it's very useful, especially to Sakura. he's amazing support. it really doesn't seem like it and people love to completely dismiss him, but i wanna be outrageous and call him the backbone of these kids. he was Sakura's first friend and he continues to be the one pushing and prodding to make sure he stands back up every single time. he's more necessary than anyone gives him credit for. i have no doubt in my mind that, if it weren't for him, Sakura wouldn't be able to do half the things he's managing. even Suo, who's out here acting like he knows the secrets of the universe, has to stop and reorganize his ideas when Nirei talks.

if Suo is the heart (debatable, but okay, whatever bro says) and brain, i'd like to think Nirei is the spirit and the soul. there's no chance the kids would work so smoothly without Nirei around—which, yes, arguably the same could be said of all of them, but i've seen Nirei be dismissed as a Zenitsu looking ass gag character and i've never had to hold back a kys so hard. idk for sure what the general consensus on him is cause i've only ever seen him used in the context of ships and never on his own, which honestly makes me a little sad. especially after seeing the popularity poll cause he didn't even make it into the top 5 with not even 1k points personal offense tbh i need a word with the voters. what i've gathered is that aint nobody gaf about his ass im devastated Suo has to fuck off (13k votes is crazy gang come on). which i don't understand. take him out of the equation and everything falls apart. Sakura's the sword, Suo's the strategy, and Nirei is the ambition, the desire, the force, the feelings.

there's much to be said about how he's treated, not only in-universe, but also by the people consuming the media and the pr team. i don't fuck with shipping, but when i'm scrolling through my timeline, Nirei only exists in the context of somebody's favorite ship. and don't fucking get me started on the mischaracterization. look me in the eye and tell me Nirei doesn't have more conviction than any of these dumbass kids. yes, he gets scared and he's fucking horrified most of the time, but motherfucker he's fighting. he's out there in the frontlines, making himself useful, biting more than he can chew and then some. i dare you to treat him like wittle baby that needs protection.

if not for his uniqueness, look at him for his regularity, because i find it endearingly wonderful. i think there's something so special about the ordinary. he deserves a lot more than what he's getting so these mfs better put him in all collab illusts cause if i have to see Kaji in his place one more time i will personally book a flight. okay thank you thats all i promise ill never come back here have day.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi :D! Would you mind doing (romantic) headcanons for Hobie with a gender neutral reader that sleep walks and talks a lot. And sometimes they'll have full legible conversations in there sleep because it seems like their actually awake. I had to ask bc I do this. 💀 sorry of it's weird.

(Hello! Sure I can! Enjoy!)

Hobie Brown x Sleepwalker!Reader

He didn't catch on at first

But as time went on he started hearing noises noticing things were bumped around when he got up on the morning, etc

He was trying to figure it out, or think if he or you moved them during the day

He obviously came up empty handed

So he was stumped for a while, until he woke up in the middle of the night

He rolled over, and went to hug you before he literally shot up in bed because you were damn gone

He was worried but more confused and got out of bed, and then he noticed he was hearing little noises coming from the living room

So Hobie being Hobie, he went to go see what was happening and if you were doing anything

His spider senses didn't go off so he didn't feel the need to grab something to defend himself, as it was only you

Hobie got to where you were, and looked around before his eyes finally found you

"(Name)? What are you doing?"

Hobie was looking at you, and only just saw you either sitting there of standing there

He was trying to talk to you but you were saying nothing bad, just walking or standing there like a zombie

You actually started creeping him out because it looked like you were staring him

"Aye! Stop doing that, love!"

He thought it was a weird prank until he finally got to you and started waving his hands in front of your face

You were mumbling too but never responded yet to anything he was saying

He then came to the realization you were damn sleepwalking

He was standing there for a moment before he started laughing to himself

He found this funny and also funny that he worked himself up for nothing

He tried his best to help you wake up, shaking your shoulder or just touching you tos nap you out of it

If you did, great! And he would help you to bed, guiding your sleepy self while he's still laughing his ass off

If you didn't wake up, he'd still guide you back to bed, a little with your sleepwalking resistance, and laugh as he put you back down to bed

He had to hold you for a little while to ensure you wouldn't go off walking again

In the following morning when you were actually conscious he told you about it

He found it funny, even if you found it embarrassing

He was just saying things like

"I just gotta make sure ye' don't wander out of here."

Don't try and leave the apartment, you'll send him into cardiac arrest if you did that while he was asleep and you were sleepwalking

When it happens he turns it into a little game on where he finds you today

I feel like he enjoys the sleep talking the most

At times he just thought you couldn't sleep and wanted to talk

You sounded so wake and so conscious he never realized and was answering back

You would mumble sometimes, but were saying actual sentences so he didn't know for a couple conversations

Until you just fucking stopped talking in the middle of a sentence

He was confused and saying your name, before finally looking over and seeing you were literally still sleeping

He went over all your conversations again and again

Until he realized you were goddamn sleep talking the whole time

He was more embarrassed now for himself as he was an idiot talking to another sleeping idiot

He never mentions it again unless you do

He'll take him talking to someone who was sleeping to his grave

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mushystrawberries @sweetheartlizzie07 @itstooearly-its3am @Ihavetoexist @kaorussgf @samsketchezz @yas-v @Lovelymiaablogss @the-dumpster-fire-of-fire @sussybaka10 @shisuishoe @sairavity @moonlight-rosevine

[ericshoney]

Accident~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You loved to colour anything but accidentally ruin one of Nick's Space Camp designs.

Warnings: shouting, crying, angst with a happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were a very tame three year old. You never really got into trouble, sometimes loud, but never troublesome. You also loved being close to your brothers and loved being in LA with them, which is where you are right now.

You sat at the table colouring some pictures that Chris got you, your brothers were filming a stream in Matt's room but said if you needed anything to get them, as your parents had gone out for a bit to explore LA.

You then saw a piece of paper, which you thought was free to use, so you grabbed it and started drawing all over it, not realising it was a new design for Space Camp.

"Hey kiddo!" Chris exclaimed, as he walked in, closely followed by Nick and Matt.

"Hi! Look!" You replied just as cheery, showing him the pictures you coloured.

"Look amazing, sweetheart." Matt said, softly kissing your forehead.

"Then I draw this!" You added, showing them the drawing you did.

"That looks coo-" Nick began, but froze as he saw the designs on the back.

He quickly took the piece of paper from you and looked, seeing you had drawn all over his new designs for his meeting in a week.

"You not like?" You questioned.

"These are my new Space Camp designs." He said.

"Can't you actually use your brain for once kid! Look at what you've done!" He shouted.

"Hey calm down, she didn't know." Matt said.

"Of course she did! It's obvious these are new designs!" Nick responded.

"You always mess up! Always gotta colour something! This was for a new line and you completely ruined it!" He continued.

You frowned and felt tears in your eyes, none of your brothers had shouted at you before.

"I sorry." You said quietly.

"Dude, back off." Chris said, tugging the eldest back.

You ran to Matt's room since it was the closest and curled up on his bed, crying into the pillows. Both Matt and Chris looked at Nick.

"Bro, she's three." Chris said, disappointed with his brother.

"She ruined something big for me." Nick tried to defend, but the guilt was already setting in.

"She couldn't tell. You also left it out for anyone to use, what if I accidentally wrote a list on it?" Matt called.

"I....I fucked up, didn't I?" Nick asked, both Chris and Matt nodded.

"Yeah dude, again, she's three. She can't always tell what's right and wrong." Chris answered.

"You go cool down and we'll calm her, then you talk to her when your ready to apologise." Matt said.

Nick nodded and went to cool down in his room for a bit. An hour later you had calmed down, not crying anymore as you sat with Chris and Matt watching Looney Tunes. There was a soft knock on the door and Nick poked his head in.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

Matt nodded as you curled up to Chris more, scared he would shout again. Nick frowned and came over, kneeling on the floor.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm really sorry for shouting at you. I didn't mean it and I'm sorry I scared you." He apologised.

"Accident." You mumbled.

"I know, kiddo, it was an accident and I was a horrible big brother by shouting and blaming you for something you didn't fully understand. I got you something as a sorry." He said.

Nick then pulled out a Taz stuffed animal. You smiled as you reached for it, making him smile a bit.

"Thank you." You whispered.

"Your welcome and I'm sorry again." He replied.

You smiled and hugged the eldest triplet, making Matt and Chris smile, knowing things are okay now.

[writer-in-theory]

A Cat Named Eddie — part one

part one part two part three

--

Steve didn't mean to adopt a cat.

The little guy was sitting on the back patio by the pool, just staring. He was a black cat, perched on the ledge of the pool.

"Where did you come from?" Steve asked when the cat didn't spook. It just watched him, head tilting to the side a little when he got closer. There was no collar on it, nothing to signify that he belonged to anyone. He was dirty enough to suggest he was a stray and too thin around his middle. "Do you have anyone to take care of you?"

The cat blinked.

"Yeah, me either," Steve chuckled gently, reaching out to pet his head. The cat was apprehensive at first, pulling his head back and staring at Steve with wide yellow eyes. "Right, we gotta get to know each other first. Well come on, it's warmer inside, and I have food."

Steve wasn't sure if the cat would listen, but he seemed okay enough with the idea to follow Steve inside the house after all. He stayed close by Steve's ankles, not quite touching. "Food, food," Steve hissed, beginning to open up every cabinet for something that might be cat-friendly. "Oh! Cats eat fish, right? You want some tuna?"

Another blink.

"That looks like a yes to me, big guy," Steve laughed, decided to plate up a portion of a can of tuna.

The cat dug in immediately, even being so enthusiastic about the food that he let Steve sit down beside him and pet along his back. After the food was gone, the cat walked over and plopped down on the ground beside Steve, paw reaching out to grab onto his hand.

"Oh, more love?" Steve obliged, scratching at the cat's ear until he heard a gentle purr coming from it. "See, it's not so bad. You can trust me."

This was silly. What he should be doing is taking it to the nearest shelter, letting them know that it was sitting outside without any sign of belonging to anyone. He shouldn't be feeding it, petting it, oh, letting its sweet little head rest on his thigh while it slept—

"Guess I better get some supplies tomorrow, huh? You wanna stick around here?" Steve sighed, a smile worming its way onto his face as the cat relaxed against him. "You can stay. We'll take care of each other. Now you just need a name."

--

Eddie's pretty sure he's going crazy.

It starts with pretty innocuous questions from the kids when Steve comes to pick them up from D&D night. "Hey, how's Eddie doing?" Max asked when Steve got out of his car, standing by the open driver's side door as if to signal he needed to take off quickly.

It's odd that Max would ask Steve that when Eddie was standing right there, but he doesn't question it.

"Steve! Is Eddie settling in okay?" That's Dustin. It's been weird after the Upside Down, having been cleared of the murder charges but still not welcomed back into the hearts of the Hawkins people (though he's not sure he ever really had a spot there to begin with). It's nice for the kids to be worried about him, but again, Steve Harrington doesn't really seem like the most knowledgeable party in the room. Sometimes, though, it's easier not to ask questions and go with it, especially with this band of hooligans.

"Did you see Steve with Eddie yesterday? He was dancing around with him, it was the sweetest thing."

Eddie didn't know if Nancy saw something that he didn't, but he's fairly certain he did not get to dance with Steve yesterday. The thought alone had him curling a bit of his hair around his finger, eyes staring at the table distractedly. The thought of having that strong body pressed against his, so close he could feel Steve's heart beating as quickly as his own, hands wrapped up in each other as they swung to whatever gentle music Steve liked to play when everyone was around.

He wished.

But it's the day he walks into Family Video and overhears Robin's conversation with Steve that does it.

"Have you gotten Eddie to sit in your lap yet?"

What.

Eddie ducks behind one of the shelves before they can see him, determined to hear what Steve has to say about it. He wouldn't call it eavesdropping, per say, especially since the conversation is about him. He has a right to hear!

"No, he'll always sit right next to me instead," Steve sighs dramatically, and Eddie can practically envision the way Steve must be draped over the center counter. "I tried to pick him up yesterday and the little fucker bit me."

Now there's a thought. Eddie could think of a few things he'd like to bite o—

"But he did sleep in bed with me! Slept right on my chest until I fell asleep. I call that progress."

Now that's just cruel. Did Steve know how many nights he'd idly thought about the same thing? How many times he'd laid on his thin pillow and wished it was Steve's fucking ex-jock pecs holding him up? Was it all some joke, a way to tease Eddie after finding out about his crush on him?

Shit, that was it. Steve wouldn't do that, right?

Except.

Except Eddie can vividly remember the day when Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan got together, and Steve had been so relentless in his teasing that even Eddie felt some amount of sympathy for the pair. That ended the second the two turned their anger toward the freaks and geeks of the school, of course, but it had existed for a brief moment if only because of Steve Harrington's ability to hurt when he wanted to.

Well two could play at that game. If Steve thought this was funny, spreading rumors and rubbing it in Eddie's face that he couldn't have him, well, he'd show him just what he was missing.

Eddie's heart races as he grabs the nearest movie case, sidling up to the counter and trying to act like he wasn't bothered by anything he'd heard.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie smirks, dropping the case onto the counter in a move that he hopes screamed cool, cool, cool.

Steve raises an eyebrow, grabbing the movie and beginning to process of letting him rent it. "Can't Buy Me Love? Didn't think you were the RomCom kind of guy."

"I'm not," Eddie laughs. This could not be more perfect. He hasn't seen the movie, but he's overheard Nancy telling the plot of it to Robin in an attempt to get a date out of her. The universe must be on his side for once, urging him to remind Steve that he wasn't the only person who knew how to hurt. "My date insisted. I don't really get it though. Why Dempsey would give up everything for the pretty popular one is above me."

"It's a cheesy movie, but the plot has some p—"

"I mean they're all the same anyway. Perfect little airheads using daddy's money to make friends. Sure Amanda Peterson's character has the looks, but what else does she have, really?"

Steve stands stock-still, hazel eyes focused intently on the movie case. He seems so unbothered by the whole thing, carrying on with grabbing the cash Eddie'd slid over the counter.

"I mean, she's a perfect representation of all those sporty types, isn't she? She expects any freak out there to just want her because she's cool, like we can't all see right through the bullshit." That one felt like shards on Eddie's tongue, remembering the night Steve had told him about the Halloween party, about the public humiliation he's suffered and all the heartbreak that came after. Still, nothing could hurt quite so bad as hearing Steve mocking him, telling everyone they knew that Eddie was doing all of these things he could only dream of doing. It was a sick joke, one that deserved only the best retaliation.

Eddie could only relish in the shocked look on Steve's face, one he's sure matched his own when he heard Eddie and lap in the same sentence. "I'm sure it'll still be a decent movie though," Eddie finishes with a little smile, picking the case back up.

Steve hadn't stopped staring. His lips finally close back together, eyebrows drawn tightly as he considers Eddie. "Have a fun date then, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie nods his agreeance.

"Have a fun night too, Harrington."

He doesn't stop at Robin's loud shout of indignation. He doesn't stop for anything, continuing to his van until he can no longer see Steve's face.

--

( i'm so sorry part two coming soon )

[yan-randomfandom]

Hello! We're back! Can you perhaps give us yan! Dev headcanons? Like he sees us as a new, better parent than his dad, and he decides to stop trying with his dad and ends up putting all of his efforts into us instead.

I love our adopted son lol

💘ficto anon

P!Yandere!Dev Dimmadome & GN!Reader

[PLATONIC] oh no... i love this req... dev,,, our poor bb 😔 half bullet & half drabble!!

"We can't just leave him here," a foreign voice murmured, careful to try and not wake the kid. Unbeknownst to them, Dev could vaguely hear two voices under his floaty sleep.

"Eh, he should be fine," another familiar voice shrugged. His son's heart would have shattered hearing that if he were fully awake. "Now, follow me to the office—what are you doing?"

Warmth. Warmth has enveloped Dev's entire body. Your arms gently carried him, a hand cradling his head.

Dev couldn't avoid the sigh of relief leaving his lips. He unconsciously snuggled closer to you.

"...Where's his bedroom? That's where he should be sleeping." You can't believe Dale was about to leave his son on the couch. Not even sparing a blanket or a pillow. It's freezing in their living room.

A scoff left the man before he turned around. "Follow me then."

You pursed your lips as you trailed after him. Are you being too intrusive? Seeing Dev like that just reminded you of your childhood, when you'd wake up in your bedroom after sleeping somewhere random. Your hold on Dev subtly becomes more protective, which is nothing short of a welcome change for him.

When you carefully put him on the bed, his hand quickly shot up and grasped your sleeve. You and Dale exchanged looks before he personally separated Dev's hand from you.

🕶️

The day after that, you visited their house again for important business, but Dev doesn't recognize who you are.

In fact, he despised you. He thought he was about to get bonding time with his dad again, but then you rang the doorbell and took him away.

Though... Dev was surprised to see you smile when you saw him. "Hello, Dev! We haven't officially met, but I'm your dad's business partner!"

You offered your hand. His dad is behind you. He took your hand for a shake, only for his sunglasses to drop halfway when his skin touched yours.

It definitely took you some time to gain his favor. And when you finally do, well... He's the sweetest boy you could have ever met.

That's right. Sweet. He'd offer you food and make sure you're comfortable in your stay at their home.

He just soaks in every second of your company whenever either you or him and his father would visit. Sometimes, he swears that he doesn't even need his father's attention anymore. It felt new... it felt like freedom, strangely.

Dev is a sassy one. Witty banter is something you'll always expect. Calling each other the wrong name is a thing now, apparently.

His father often sees the two of you bonding. He doesn't mind it, he doesn't exactly do anything.

Surprisingly, physical touch is one of his main love languages. He likes holding hands a lot and really likes it when you carry him.

The AU Pairs are barely used whenever you're around. They're mainly there for convenience, which is strange because Dev used to utilize them for everything.

But then, Dev finds you talking to someone else. He's clearly standing right in front of you. Why aren't you greeting him? Haven't you seen him yet?

You eventually turn, smiling when you see him. He wholeheartedly smiles back. "Dev! Hi! Make yourself comfortable, okay? I just gotta take care of things first."

... He isn't a priority?

If Peri's still here (rip), then he's obviously going to use his wishes as an advantage. Although he didn't even need to wish for your affection! No rules are limiting him! How lucky is he?!

Whatever he wishes for will likely backfire on him or you, and whether he chooses to learn a lesson from that or not is up to him. Peri will always try to support his godchild.

But... If there's no Peri... Dev starts to be more and more demanding. He's absolutely needy and won't stand if you reject his request.

At some point, he'd give you the silent treatment, his shades back up and everything, and you'll have to be one begging for forgiveness.

He certainly doesn't like the fights any more than you do, but he just... he needs you.

And he'd do anything for your attention.

"Let's try and make lemonade later, okay? I'll teach you how," you grinned, carefully patting his gel-filled head. "I promise."

"You better not forget," he quipped, excitement brimming through his very core. He has always wanted to do that with his dad, but now you're here! All the lacking years of quality time can be filled by you!

then you guys will pull pranks on his dad

[oneofstarkskids]

fresh out the slammer

pairings: steve randle x reader

summary: steve's gotten himself into trouble... again. but it's alright, cause he knows who his first call will be to.

a/n: not my usual fandom, but you can hardly blame me.

*not my gif*

you had planned for a quiet evening full of studying for an upcoming test, but when you're dating steve randle there is no such thing as a quiet evening. your rotary phone rang loudly from it's place on your desk, scaring you half to death.

you jumped up from your bed and reached for the device. breathlessly, you held it up to your face, "hello?"

on the other end was that charming voice, smooth as butter, "hey darlin'." you couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at your lips, and thank god he couldn't see it.

"steve jacob randle! do you know what time it is?"

steve chuckled on the other end, "yeah. sorry to bother you, sweets, but i need your help."

worry suddenly washed over you and your brain went through every possible scenario, "are you okay?"

steve thought it was cute how concerned you sounded, "i'm alright. i just need you to come pick me up."

you frowned. pick him up? steve had his own car, so why would he need to be picked up? "from where?" you asked curiously.

"me, dally and two-bit are kinda in the slammer..."

you were furious. why would this man think it would be a good idea to call you? he knew exactly what you thought of his talent to get himself in trouble.

nonetheless, you loved him. sometimes you wondered why. so, you made your way over to the curtis' place to tell sodapop what happened.

he wasn't all that surprised. he just grabbed his coat and you caught a ride with him over to the station.

soda filled out some paperwork as you talked to an officer. "no charges were pressed so bail's not an issue, but this will go on their records."

you gave him a tight lipped smile, "thank you, officer." he led you down the hall towards the holding cells.

dallas was sitting on the floor with one of his legs propped up, looking bruised and pissed off as ever.

two-bit, who hardly had a scratch, was standing against the wall with his arms crossed.

and then there was yours, standing the closest to the bars with an apologetic smile on his face as soon he saw you.

the officer unlocked the cell and the boys slowly walked out one by one. you didn't say anything, just gave them all a stern look and walked back the way you'd come.

they followed a bit behind, but steve hurried to catch up to you, "baby, i'm real sorry."

you tried to ignore him, but he was persistent, "not here, steve." by the time you guys had gotten back, soda had finished all the paperwork and you were free to go.

soda, two, and dally went straight to the car but you paused, "stevie and i are gonna walk home. thanks for the ride."

steve pouted, "but i'm tired." you shot him a glare. you were not going to put up with his whining right now.

soda nodded in acknowledgment and drove off with the others.

the two of you walked for a bit until you felt like you were far enough from the police station to kick his ass.

"what did you do this time?" you asked in annoyance. steve placed his hands on your arms, "it wasn't my fault, darlin'! those soc's were fixin' for a fight."

you scoffed, "then that's something you have in common."

steve shook his head, "wasn't like that. we were smoking outside the dingo and they roll up in their fancy mustangs with some kinda grudge."

steve wouldn't lie to you and you knew that, so it didn't take long for your anger to fizzle.

"i really wish you wouldn't get yourself in these situations," you sighed as you eyed his scrapes and bruises.

"you don't gotta worry about me. i can handle my own," he smirks and pulls you closer by your waist.

you rolled your eyes lovingly, "i know you can. sometimes i just wish you wouldn't."

steve shook his head, trying to understand what you meant, "and run away? no way. those stuck up soc's get what's comin' to them. i'm never gonna stop fighting, baby. i can't. not after everything they done."

and for a moment his macho exterior fades and you see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"stevie, you know i love you, right?" you ask with a soft smile on your face.

he smiles back, but it quickly turns into a smirk, "does that mean i get a kiss?"

your laughter fills the night air, "not with that busted lip."

you turn to continue walking but steve, who now has a taste for revenge, comes running up behind you and swings you off your feet.

you helplessly protest so he puts you down, but he doesn't let you walk away just yet.

swiftly, he grabs your hand and spins you to face him before planting his lips on yours.

despite the fuss you had made, you kiss him back with just as much fervor.

as soon as the kiss is over his expression turns very serious, "i still can't believe you had soda leave us here to walk home."

he curses from the sting of your playful slap.

[little-reader]

Woody Chp. 2

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

If you were unaware, this is the second season of "The Son Of A Monster." You may not understand the following if you haven't read the first season. Thank you.

Warnings; SHORT MASTERBATION SCENE, Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, homosexual relationship (If you didn't know), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. (The Walking Dead TV show)AMC rights, I do use the storyline and some scenes.

Carl ended up in the woods, a bag in his hand with water and food. He snuck out, there weren’t many people at the gate, so it wasn’t hard. He took the usual path when scouting out they would take a safe route, least walkers. He would just need to get back to the gas station he and his dad were near. He was then going to head into the woods, scope it out, and see if the man was really what he thought.

His feet crunched under his boots. Rick left that morning, by himself. The kingdom was ambushed, giving them limited personnel. Maggie wasn’t sure what they were going to do with the saviors, Aaron had a baby to look over,  and so far, they were winning. Negan hadn’t given up yet, even though he was surrounded completely by snipers and walkers. Carl wasn’t sure why they didn’t back down. He thought they were stupid for doing so, but nowadays, who wasn’t stupid?

Carl crossed very few walkers before he made it to the section of the woods near the gas station. He was able to avoid them, some trail, and got bored once he picked up his pace. 

The section was surrounded by trees and forest, allowing the man to get privacy and somewhat safety. Carl could tell this was it, there were two man-made human-sized toothpicks. 

His feet crept slowly, as the walker reached for a bag up high. He barely waited behind the tree, where he saw the man from before. He crept slowly and stabbed the knife into the walker's head, killing it there. Carl knew, or thought, that was the best time to make himself known. He took a slightly hesitant step, and gave a calm “Hey”, out to the man, who glanced in shock.

Carls hands wavered, and lifted, showing an empty hand and one with a bag in it. He took small steps, watching for roots but keeping an eye out. The man across from him stood in warning, nervous by the stranger. “I was my dad, they were warning shots above your head.” He said, still creeping closer, with a calm expression. He was trying to gain the man's trust or have the man not try to shoot him. It was time for him to introduce himself, this would allow him to bond, just a little, with the man. “Wasn’t shooting at you… I’m Carl.”

The man still didn’t fully let his guard down. He looked tired, hungry, and sweating nervously as he held his knife to his side, but pointed at Carl like he was a threat. He shifted on his feet, taking a slight step and glancing around looking for a way out or possibly more people. He pointed to himself, “Siddiq.” He said, a waver in his voice. 

Carl looked down at the bag, still slowly approaching, and handed it out. “Food and water.”

Siddiq looked confused, his eyebrows pushing together. “Why?”

Carl breathed in, stopping. “I guess, you were talking about something your mom said. About helping people?.” Carl paused and licked his lips. “My mom told me that you gotta do what's right. It’s hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not.” Carl took a big step, then threw the bag to the man, still allowing a safe distance from him. 

The bag landed two feet from Siddiq. He looked down, up, and then basically crawled to it. Carl could tell what the man was going through, especially being alone out here, and either being too scared to look for food or being weak and unequal to fight for it.

The man quickly got the bottle of water opened, and gulped it, as some of it ran down his hands. He took a breath and put it down. “Thanks.” 

Carl smiled and nodded. “Glad I found you.”

“You went looking for me?” Siddiq asked, standing up, but still keeping distant. 

“Yeah, I scavenged the sardines and other stuff.” He paused once again, thinking over his words. “Me and my dad were in a community. I’m gonna ask you a few questions.” He needs to know if he really wants to bring the man with him. He started to, slowly, walk toward the man. “I need you to answer honestly, okay?” Siddiq gave the nod, and a short “Okay”, before he continued. “How many walkers have you killed?” There was no answer. “I know it's hard to-”

“237.” Siddiq breathed out, interrupting Carl.

Carl's head tilted with a surprised look, a slight grin on his face, “Really?” Siddiq looked at the walker he just killed, and replied. “Give or take a couple.” Carl continued with the questions. “How many people have you killed?” 

Siddiq swallowed. “One.” 

“Why?”

“Dead tried to kill him but… they didn’t.”

Carl nodded, peering at the ground. “You're making walker traps. Is that how you killed so many?” He questioned, gesturing to the trap, where the dead walker lay.

“It's only part of it… My mom thought, or hoped that killing them would free their souls.” Carl understood that. How, at first, people thought the person was still there. That they saw what they were doing, and wished they weren’t. “You know… maybe she was right.”

“Doing that, doesn’t it make things harder for you while you try to survive?” Carl asked, taking a step closer. 

“I, I don’t know, I… you got, you got to honor your parents, right?” Siddiq stated, giving his answer to why he was doing what he did.

“If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” Carl joked, with a smile. “Or…” He thought about a week beforehand. About letting him go. His smile dropped. “I definitely wouldn’t be bringing you back to my community.” Siddiq looked at him in shock.

That's when they started to walk. He allowed Siddiq to grab his things and pack, even though he didn’t have much, and they set off. The night was approaching in only a few hours, and the fog started to set. It made it harder to see where he was going, but he knew the path well enough to get home. If he could get home, it was a known rule not to go out of the walls in fog because you couldn’t tell where a walker would come from.

Still, they walked on, stepping over logs without tripping, and up a hill when they heard the gargling from afar. They crouched down and tiptoed down the hill, stopping at a tree where they could see the walkers ripping apart an animal, blood covering them and the ground. 

“Hey,” Carl looked at Siddiq and took out his knife. “For your mom.” He stood from his spot and they both went towards the small herd, knives in hands. Carl carried his bookbag off of his back and sat in by a tree as they got closer. 

That was when one of the walkers turned and stood, catching the other's attention. They all saw the two and stumbled for the two, teeth and claws ready. Siddiq was able to kill the first one fine until another came right after. It took Carl a bit to kill the first as more started to follow. Carl wasn’t going to back down. He wanted trust, and he was going to earn it. 

Carl went to help Siddiq but was pushed into another walker. The walker was able to push him down onto the animal corpes, getting too close for comfort as he tried to push it away. His eyes widened as another came closer. Carl pushed the first walker off of him, for another to fall on him. The first, crawled to him, grabbing his clothes, the walker had his mouth an inch away. He knew in a second he couldn’t get the walker off on time.

Suddenly, Siddiq was pulling the walker off of him with a knife in the other. This allowed Carl to breathe faster than a car. His heart raced, and his eyes watered, but not to the point of crying. Carl wished a different boy was pulling that thing off of him. His hand clutched his shirt as Siddiq held his hand out.

Carl saw a slight image flash in his mind. It was not the hand of Siddiq, but nonother than Y/n fucking Smith. He wished. Full heartedly wished. The smile, the white teeth, the stupid fucking smirk, and the one closed eye due to the sun. But in the blink of an eye, reality hit again. The scared, blood-covered man in front of him, not his partner.

... A week ago

Bullets rang. He was on his knees one second, the next moving out of the line of fire as the war started, really started. It felt like slow motion. The movements, voices, and bangs around him.

He felt blood dripping from his temple where he slammed his head, making sure not to get shot. It was not going as planned. “Shit,” Y/n muttered, feeling the warmth on the side of his head.

He knew the plan well, and getting out of the shooting line was his priority. He felt the mud push under his fingernails as he crawled on his hands and knees, making sure to keep his backpack safely on. 

Y/n was able to make it to a wall, where the gate was kept. He had a choice, jump over it and dodge the biters on the other side, get in one of the cars without getting shot, or get eaten by the mob of biters Dixion was bringing down the freeway.

“Fuck. Motherfucker.” He cursed, looking at the cars leaving. His thoughts rolled. He had no other choice. He jumped the long gate, hitting the wires at the top, The wires slid down his face and cut through his shirt. “Ahhhh, shit.” He whispered and yelled, stomping his feet. He felt the burn on his face and arm as he secured his bag and ran for the hills.

Y/n had made it a mile into the woods before stopping. The pain wasn’t extreme, but it still hurt like a bitch. The gash on his arm wasn’t too bad, enough for him to get home fine but continued to bleed. “I'll be fine.” He whispered to himself, sighing. He remembered his backpack and grabbed it off his back. The med kit was safely placed in the side pocket. There were no bandages, and he wasn’t going to waste his time on making a line of bandaids. 

He sighed and placed the kit back in the bag. He would just have to hit one of the houses. And the closest safe house was only a mile and a half. “Shit dangerous…dad could come looking for me. They could get out of that mess, they will. That would just put him in danger.” His thoughts were loud as he set off deeper into the woods. 

He had a plan. Lose the tracks. He’d take the longer route just in case someone was able to find him or see him jump the gate. Then he’d make his way back to Alexandria. 

His feet stepped along the roots and dead leaves, making his way through the autumn air. It was getting colder and the only thing he had, was a thin shirt on. The house wasn’t so far, and he would be able to make it. That's how he kept his thoughts, golden.

Y/n whistled as he went, the little toon his mother once sang to him. The toon was light, and calming in opposition to his current situation. The whistling allowed him to slip away from the world, and forget about what happened, or forget the very situation he was in. He could hear his mother singing it. He could feel the sway of the rocking chair and the slight breeze of the porch breeze. Then the smell of rain, the drip drop on the AC unit, once helping him sleep, is now a nightmare to hear. 

Once, Negan, his mother, and he went on a trip to North Carolina, to see a War ship, it rained that day. They stopped nearby and grabbed a bottle that had a ship in it. He remembers sitting on the porch staring at it as it floated in the fake water, and moved with each shake but failed to never sink. His mother would say, “You are that boat, and you will forever be that boat.” Y/n never understood what she meant, he just stared at her, then right back at the ship with a smile. 

Those fond memories of the old world. The smell of his baseball games. The soil he slid onto, the mud that would track his clothes, shoes, and body. The icepacks or frozen peas his mother would gently apply on his bruises after each game as she praised her son for doing a good job, relating him to his father. The proud smile on both his parent's faces, as he hit his first home run, racing for the hills as his name was hollered by Y/n’s teammates. 

Before Y/n knew it, he was in front of the home, with his hand reaching into his back pocket to fetch the key. 

His arm still bled as he entered the house, not troubling himself to care as he made his way to the bathroom down the hall. He flashed on the lights, squinting as he looked up into the mirror, jerking at his reflection. He couldn’t exactly tell whose blood was on him, his, or someone else. However, there was a gash riding from the side of his chin to the start of his cheek. He realized the wound wasn’t too large, but it was the main cause of bleeding. Y/n searched through the medicine cabinet and used a cloth to wrap around his arm before laying out his supplies on the counter. He sat on the toilet, taking a cotton swap and gradually cleaning up the bloodied mess on his arm, wincing every occasional minute. The man skillfully sewed up the wound, the needle and thread gliding effortlessly through the flesh. With the task finished, he then moved on to carefully tending to his injured chin.

He made his way upstairs, not bothering to clean up his mess or the clutter he had made.

As he laid his head down on the pillow, which allowed him to sink in, he felt the weight of the past days lifting off his shoulders. The softness of the pillow provided a comforting embrace, easing the tension in his body as he closed his eyes. He kicked his shoes off, feeling the freedom of letting go of the day's conditions. With each deep breath, he felt himself slipping into a peaceful state of mind, leaving behind the rush and groan of the outside world. It was in this moment of quiet that he found comfort, in his bed, as it began to pass noon and go into the evening.

He felt himself sigh and roll over. His hand slid under his pillow, bringing out the small stack of papers. He moved them around until he found the picture of him and his mother. He ran his thumb over it, the corner of his mouth turning up. That smile reflected her own, the ice cream in her hands melted slightly. 

He could feel the slight ache of his arm, and chin, and the healing stab wound. With that slightly uncomfortable sting, he shifted back onto his back, staring at the roof, the old mold that dried out on the cracks that were engraved into the ceiling. Another thing to fix. 

Y/n moved his fingertips along his torso, making it ticklish in a way. His eyes closed as his other hand wiped down his face, feeling the prick of his forming beard, and entangled into his hair. He needed a shower, not that he could smell himself, even though he was probably used to the smell either way. 

He felt his fingers stop at the crack of his shirt, where his skin poked out from the stretch. He opened his eyes and sighed before moving his hand down, and slowly grabbing himself through his pants. One thing he was taught, don’t let your guard down when alone. He assured himself it was a fine, day, and he could hear outside. He swallowed, covering one side of his face with his hand, and rubbing himself with a groan.

⁶He breathed in, taking his hand to his face and spitting on his palm, then slipped his hand into his pants, and below his boxers as another groan fell from his mouth. His hand wrapped around his dick with a whine. Now, speaking of how he literally just got out on the verge of death, though he really didn’t care, it was a bit weird. He put it off. 

The room was filled with quiet groans and grunts as his palm lifted up, and then back down in a repeating movement. He could imagine Carl doing it, which he did. But he knew Carl was young, inexperienced, and a bit dumb, but who was he to talk?

He closed his eyes, imagining Carls had, a lot softer than his, but still rough in their own way. The nervousness, the hesitation, the slight stutter he had at certain points. It was cute, and hot at the time.

He swallowed a groan and pumped himself faster feeling the whine in the back of his throat. “Mother of fucking mary.” The curse fell from his lips as he gripped himself and groaned, head pushing back into the pillow and his teeth barring a grunt that shoved from his throat. Y/n bit into his tongue before it left his mouth and let another groan into his arm.

He would have melted under Carl's touch then and there. He let a moan slip from his mouth as he hit his peak. Stroking a few more times before letting go, panting breaths “Jesus.” He muttered, under his breath, feeling slightly embarrassed by how long he lasted. “You're a cunt.” He said to himself as he shifted in the bed and made himself comfortable.

He stared up at the ceiling, his finger circling his stomach. “What am I gonna do.” he groaned, finally closing his eyes.

--

@stiveroon

@ritospart

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 17: Forgiveness

tw: aftermath of brainwashing, discussion of suicide pact

Human Resistance Masterlist

Augusnippets Masterlist

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Supplies," said Zach, not pausing as he packed up his gear.

Jesse planted himself in the doorway, planning to stop Zach by force if needed -- not that he could, if Zach were really that determined. "Supplies from where, exactly?"

"Silvertown."

"You know how the aliens have Silvertown locked down. It'd be a suicide mission to go alone."

"If Red and Sable can manage it, so can I," he said. "You know as well as I do how low our food supplies are running. I've gotta pull my weight. I can risk it."

"You know that we need you here, right? We need you as our leader. When you were captured -- it was hell. No one could believe it at first, and when it started to set in… it was all I could do to keep people from flipping their shit." Jesse sighed. "I don't know how you do it, but you always know the right things to say. I can't do this without you."

"Well, you're going to have to."

"Zach --"

"I can't be the leader of the human resistance any more. You know that! I screwed up, I got captured, I was one of their slaves for months. I got Sky captured, and Noah, and I led the aliens right to the old base with a smile. All of that is my fault, and no one's going to forgive me for that. No one should forgive me for that."

"Well, I forgive you," said Jesse, stepping into the room. "I never even blamed you. What you did while the aliens had you under their control isn't your fault."

"I betrayed you!" Zach slammed down the flashlight he was about to pack. "I betrayed all of you! How could you ever trust me after that?"

"It wasn't a betrayal! It's not like you were captured on purpose."

Zach froze, staring at Jesse with haunted eyes.

"…Zach?"

"What if I was?"

Jesse's heart sank. "What?"

"What if I was captured on purpose? What would you think of me then?"

"Fuck," said Jesse, sitting on the edge of Zach's bed.

Zach sat down next to him. "When I felt those tentacles close around me, when I knew I was getting caught… I wasn't scared, or defiant, like I was supposed to be. I was so relieved."

"Why?"

"Because it would all be over," said Zach. The false bravado he had worn ever since his rescue was gone now, and Jesse had never seen him so broken. "Because I was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of fear. Once you've been caught, you don't have to be scared of it any more, because the worst thing has already happened. I know that makes me such a goddamn coward."

Jesse put a hand on his back. "No, I don't think you're a coward."

"All day long, I have to make hard decisions. Who goes on missions, who gets medical supplies, who we can afford to expend. When I choose wrong, people die. Hell, when I choose right, people still die, just less of them," he said. "And all night long, I lie awake thinking about those choices. Thinking about all the ways I've failed humanity. Wondering if there's really a future for us."

"That's what made you a good leader, Zach. That's why we all followed you. Because you can make those decisions, and really care so much about getting it right."

There was bitterness in Zach's voice. "No one should have ever followed me. They wouldn't have if they knew how much I thought about giving it all up."

"…I think about it all the time," said Jesse, staring at his hands. "Giving up, I mean. I see how happy their slaves seem, and I know it's all fake, hopped up on their brainwashing and drugs, but… I wonder, sometimes. I think a lot of us have."

"It doesn't feel fake when they have you. Being happy, I mean. It feels real, too real."

"Didn't you tell everyone it was your worst nightmare?"

"It was my worst nightmare… once I was free, and it all came crashing back to me. The way I betrayed everyone, the humiliation of being their little kept pet." Zach's fists twisted in his pants. "What really makes it a nightmare is how I didn't see a thing wrong with it when I was under their control."

"Yeah?"

"I can't tell anyone else this, but… it was easy, Jesse. It was so damn easy. At the time they caught me, I hadn't slept in days, and they let me sleep. I got to eat -- replicated food, but better than the cans we forage, and as much of it as I wanted. There wasn't any fear or pain. It felt good to obey them. Too good. They really brainwashed me into thinking I was safe there and that they were taking good care of me. What makes it so fucking terrifying is that they're almost right."

"Is that all true?" said Jesse. His friend seemed so different than when he gave the speech to the remnants of the human resistance, declaring what a humiliating nightmare it was to serve the aliens. How he'd tried to escape, how he missed home every day. The speech had made Jesse uneasy, even as the resistance fighters around him cheered. He could tell that Zach was hiding a lot, but he thought it might be trauma from his captivity, not this.

"Yeah. It's true. That's the real reason why I can't be your leader any more. Not because you can't forgive me or trust me -- even though you shouldn't. I can't be your leader because I don't believe in our mission. Even after all the withdrawal and counter-brainwashing, I still can't believe in the mission any more." There was cold determination in his eyes as he turned to Jesse, and he looked eerily like the image of Zach that the resistance put on all of their propaganda posters. "I don't want humans to be free."

"You don't mean that," said Jesse. "It's just gotta be residual mind control. We can get you back to the lab and --"

"It's not. This was going on before I got captured," he said. "I told you, that doubt is how I got captured in the first place. It only takes a few seconds, you know. Just a few seconds, and it's all over."

Jesse nodded. Even if it was residual brainwashing, Zach sounded so sincere. And he knew how much leadership had always weighed on Zach. Maybe these were his honest thoughts.

"So, that's the truth. You can tell the others, if you want. Kill me, throw me in the brig, court marshal me, drag me back to the lab, whatever you want to do. If you don't, I'm going to leave before I betray you. Because I will betray you if I stay here, and you don't deserve that. You all deserve a chance."

Zach fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting to see what Jesse would do.

Jesse knew that he should lock Zach in his room and report this to the lab. They'd put him back in confinement, give him another round of intense anti-brainwashing treatment. It was the right thing to do. There was no way Zach wasn't still compromised, and a single compromised person could jeopardize the remainder of the resistance, especially one who had once been so loved and trusted.

But when he thought about how hollowed out Zach had looked in the treatment room, he couldn't go through with it. Jesse wasn't even sure if his friend could survive another round of treatment and still have anything left of him. And if he had honestly wanted to give up before he was caught, it might not even help at all.

The decision was easier than he thought. "If you're going on a Silvertown supply run, then I'm coming with you."

"The hell are you talking about?" said Zach. "It's next to a suicide mission, and I just confessed to being all but a traitor to humankind. Why would you follow me?"

"Because I've always followed you. And we need the supplies bad. It won't be a suicide mission if there's two of us."

"You shouldn't risk --"

"Interfering with your plan to get yourself killed or recaptured?"

Zach's stunned silence said it all. "I… wasn't…"

"Yes, you were. I'm not stupid. I can tell," said Jesse. "You don't think you're fit to be our leader. You think no one can forgive you. You think you're useless, and that it's inevitable that you'll betray us again. So you're going to go sacrifice yourself."

"And so what if I am? If that's what I want to do, you should let me go."

"No."

"Why the hell not? I'm going to do more harm than good here."

"I told you that we need you. What's going to happen to us if we lose another experienced raider and scavenger? What's going to happen if the face of the resistance, the guy who's still on half our posters, gets captured again?" said Jesse. "But you know what, that's not really what matters. What really matters is that I don't think you really want to go through with it."

"It's the right thing to do. You already laid out why," Zach insisted.

"If you believed that, you would already be gone. You wouldn't have let me stop you. You wouldn't be telling me all this."

"You think I want you to stop me?"

"I do. I know that you don't really want to die, and you sure as hell don't want to be recaptured. I don't care how much happy juice they injected you with. I know you."

"I would rather die." Zach glared at Jesse. "Because they're going to recapture me. I know they will. There's no way I'm going to be able to resist for long, not with all the programming they pumped into me. One bad day and I'm going to be their mindless fucking pet again, doing tricks and kneeling by some alien's side. And I'd rather die than have that happen to me again."

"Zach…"

"When I wasn't following the alien captain around like a trained puppy, it would put me in a pod that made me sleep. I still can't sleep at night unless I imagine I'm back in one of those pods. Did you know that?"

Jesse had seen those pods on missions before, filled with sleeping humans. They'd always looked so peaceful. He'd wondered what it was like.

"So that's the truth. If I went to Silvertown and succeeded, I'd get us more supplies that we desperately need. And if I failed, well, it'd be over, wouldn't it?" He pulled out his pocket knife. "If I saw the aliens coming for me, if I didn't think I could escape, I'd put a quick end to it and die as myself. That's the plan."

"All right, then," said Jesse. "I'm still going to come with you."

"If you think you're going to stop me --"

"I know I can't stop you when you make your mind up," said Jesse. "Two of us means more supplies and a bigger chance to succeed. I could help you resist and get back home in one piece."

"And if we don't make it? If the aliens corner us?"

"Then I want to die as myself, too."

A range of emotions appeared and disappeared on Zach's face: fear, uncertainty, relief. Then he smiled. "All right then. Let's do it together."

Human Resistance Masterlist

Augusnippets Masterlist

@augusnippets

I kind of got carried away with this setting. There's a few more to go.