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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day ago

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@zepskies

Jumping right back in to part 3!

Accurate depiction of me knowing what's about to happen to the readers dad. 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

And:

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off. “What? What is it?!” you yell. He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth. “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?” You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭

Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.

Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

It's a whole vibe 🍞

Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket. Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

See I feel better already 🥰

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.

And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.

This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus caf��, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.

Wendigo.

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.

But you’ll have to try.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer.

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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lanalosty0uu · 1 day ago

Text

⋆.˚ chapter iv: take on me ᝰ.ᐟ

previously on: 🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

"Don't worry," he says with an easy confidence. "We'll figure this out. But first, let's make sure you don't look like you're from outer space."

⋆.˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.⊹₊ˎˊ˗

main masterlist!

pairing: steve harrington x fem! reader

⋆.˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.⊹₊ˎˊ˗ ⋆.˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.⊹₊ˎˊ˗ ⋆.˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊

The next morning, Steve takes you to Melvald’s General Store, their first stop on your journey to adapt to 1985. The whole vibe of the store amazes you, it was all retro-y, filled with posters and neon lights all over, just like what you’ve always imagined.

“You’re gonna drool over if you kept your mouth open.” You didn’t realize that you’ve been keeping your mouth open in awe at the store.

You can tell Robin and Dustin was looking at you weirdly, knowing that this is just some regular clothing store. But not for you. For you, there is nothing more magical than being in an 80s clothing store, filled with retro and disco like clothes hanging all over.

The jingling of the old-fashioned cash register catches you off-guard, and she marvels at the analog setup. There was even no card scanner! Or a QR code for cashless payment.

Steve raises an eyebrow, clearly amused when you slightly walked over to the cash register. “Welcome to the world of cold, hard cash,” he teases, handing her a few bills for small essentials.

From there, they head to another local thrift store, where Robin joins them, ready to make an event of it. The air is filled with the scent of worn leather and old fabric as Robin rummages through the racks, dramatically holding up an oversized blazer with shoulder pads. “Future girl, this screams power suit,” she jokes, earning a giggle from you.

Even Steve and Dustin helped to find you a nice pair of clothing for you to wear today, and at least a few days to come since they know it won’t be easy to fix that watch.

After much trial and error, some of it clearly for Robin’s amusement, you settle on high-waisted jeans, a striped crop top, and a denim jacket. Steve insists on adding a pair of white sneakers to complete the look.

“You’re officially a Hawkins local,” he declares with a grin as you twirl in front of the mirror, amazed of yourself. Sure, in 2025 people still dress like this. But this… All this felt so different for you. The whole vibe, the people, everything just felt like what you’ve always dreamed of.

˗ˏˋ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, so… since you’re from the future, I’m guessing you already know stuff that happened in the 80s, correct?” Dustin asked. We were just chatting on the backseat of Steve’s car, whilst Steve was driving to to the arcade, Robin sitting on the seat next to Steve. Dustin requested to take you to the arcade, wanting to show you the amazing stuff that happens on the 80a.

“Like… what, exactly?”

“Music! You know what I mean?”

“Like… Madonna and shit? Blondie? The Runaways?”

“Yeah, yeah! Like that!” Dustin was amazed when you said all those famous names.

“I’ve listened those on Spotify, kid. So… I’m not that stupid for a person who’s a maniac about the 80s.”

He looked at me confused when you said ‘Spotify’, as if asking for explanation about it without telling you.

“It’s like a music platform, you know? In this.” You showed my phone to him, unlocking it, and opened Spotify. You began searching for my downloaded playlists since you got no internet service here and played Take On Me by a-ha.

“Whoa…” Dustin let out an amused laugh. You even caught Robin’s attention. “I thought you said that’s a phone?”

“Yeah, it is! Except it’s not just for calling, and sending messages. You can listen to songs, watch movies, call people and see them through the phone, read books and magazines online, and many more!”

Your explanation about your phone caught all their attentions, including Steve, while you remind him to keep his eyes on the road.

“You’ve played Pac-Man?!” Dustin exclaimed. You tried to explain to him that you also played it on your phone.

“Oh you’ll never beat Steve. See that? That’s the highest score. And who does that belong to? Steve Harrington.”

“Oh, so the sailor likes to play Pac-Man…” You teased Steve who just entered the arcade after parking his car.

“Well, good luck on trying to beat that, future girl.” Steve challenged you, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Might as well let me try to beat your ass, Harrington.” You pulled up your jacket sleeves and began playing Pac-Man, just like what you always knew. You have to make Pac-Man eat up all the yellow stuff and make sure not to get caught by the ghosts.

On the first try, your Pac-Man was cornered by the ghosts already, and the screen immediately flashes GAME OVER.

Steve smirks. "Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"Let me try again!" you insist, and to Steve's surprise, she improves quickly.

By your third try, you beats his high score, and the group gathers around, cheering her on.

"Looks like the newbie's got skills," Dustin says, impressed.

“Fun fact, there will be a Pac-Man movie in 2015. It’ll be called ‘Pixels’.” You said, smirking at Steve who seemed to be annoyed.

Steve, pretending to be annoyed, mutters, "Beginner's luck." But there's a glint of pride in his eyes as he watches your grin in triumph.

˗ˏˋ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ˎˊ˗

As the night falls, the rink lights dim slightly as the disco ball spins, casting a cascade of shimmering lights across the floor. Dustin and Robin let Steve be your guide for tonight in the skating rink, since Steve is such a good skater deep down. Meanwhile, you and Steve sit side by side on the edge of the rink after their dramatic fall, catching their breath between fits of laughter.

The faint buzz of 80s pop hits fills the air, but you are hyper-aware of Steve’s shoulder brushing against hers and the way his smile lingers as he glances her way.

“You okay there, klutz?” he asks, nudging her lightly.

“Oh, I’m the klutz?” you retort, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who dragged me into that spin of death.”

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you almost nailed it. I’d give it a solid six out of ten.”

“Wow, generous,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

Steve leans back on his elbows, looking out at the rink. “You’re actually not bad, though. For someone who didn’t even know how to skate, you’ve got potential.”

You tilt your head, watching him curiously. “Well that’s encouraging.” You gave him a sarcastic look.

You’re about to press him further when he stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand. “We’ve got time for one last lap before they kick us out.” You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your eyes moved to his, watching those brown eyes carefully. There’s something in his eyes, a warmth, a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. Slowly, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you to your feet, steadying you when you wobble.

Both of you step back onto the rink, and this time, you feel a little steadier. Steve skates alongside yourself, pacing slow but steady as the music shifts to a softer, dreamier track. The glow of the disco ball reflects in his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the rink seems to blur away, it was like you’re the only ones left in that rink.

“You know,” you say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “I never really had nights like this. Back home, I mean.”

Steve glances at you, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, looking down at your purple skates. “I was always so focused on everything… school, responsibilities, the future. I never let myself just… be a teenager. Not to mention the strict parents.” You sighed, looking at his eyes. “It’s not as fun to live in the future like they said.”

He nods, a knowing look crossing his face. “Yeah, I get that. I used to be so caught up in trying to impress people, be the king of Hawkins High or whatever. But looking back? None of that stuff really mattered. This…” He gestures around them, his gaze landing back on you. “this is the kind of stuff that sticks. The moments you don’t plan.”

His words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name. Nostalgia for a time you only just started experiencing, maybe, or the bittersweet knowledge that moments like this are fleeting.

“I think you’re right,” you admits, your voice soft.

You skate in silence for a while, the music wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper playing vividly. You find yourself stealing glances at Steve, noticing the way his jaw clenches in concentration as he avoids an oncoming skater or the faint curve of his smile when he catches you looking.

At one point, Steve slows to a stop in the middle of the rink and turns to face you. “Alright, future girl. Let’s try one more spin.”

You groan at his request. “You’re relentless.”

“Come on, it’s your redemption arc,” he teases, his grin widening.

With a sigh, you let him take your hands, and attempt another spin. This time, it’s less of a disaster, though you still stumble into him at the end, your hands clutching his jacket for balance.

“See?” he says, his voice low. “Told you you’d get it.”

Your faces are close now, closer than you’ve been all night. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air between them. Your heart pound in your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music.

“For what?” Steve asks, his expression softening.

“For this. For making me feel like I belong here,” you said.

He smiles, a genuine, almost shy smile that catches you off guard. “You do belong here. More than you think.”

The moment stretches out, the world around them fading into the background. You aren’t sure what’s supposed to come next, but you knows one thing.

For the first time since you arrived in 1985, you don’t feel like a stranger.

note: another chapter, yay! you really can see what i meant by the next chapters will be interesting, yeah? so happy i can finally finish this chapter ^^ hope u guys enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next ones <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse @keerysfolklore @www-interludeshadow-com @pleasantsoulcolor @mochminnie @steviespookie @damon-loves-pie @imjustdreamingig @starkleila @2602moon @negomi123 @currentresidentinhell @ucannotcompare @lilgreensunshine

if there's anyone who wants to be tag as well, feel free to ask <3

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thelonelyshore-if · 2 days ago

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Just here to say that I replayed as an mc who loved the lake as a kid was A++ work, boss. The nostalgia coming back as an adult, the possessiveness. The way that if you go back to it after drowning, mc still doesn’t really look at it with fear, or at least, the fear is secondary to the almost territorial kind of love that they haven’t grown out of for the lake, despite it being so long. Almost like thinking that the Lake is finally returning the claim they had laid on it as a youth. Like they’ve been waiting for it, for so long, and that there’s no toxicity in the fact that they drowned. It was like mc’s ape brain was afraid, but their mind was almost accepting of the fact that the lake would have it’s own ways of showing love. It gives the distinct vibe of the lake rewarding MC’s love with its secrets.

It’s their Lake, and they are the lake’s.

No wonder Jay was so spooked.

Can’t wait to scare the shit out of them and everyone else with MC’s continued and fervent love of the lake. Gonna go swimming first chance we get, if we get a chance. Trauma who? That’s not our abuser, that’s our confidante, first love, our peace and dreams. Our favorite secret.

THANK YOU omg.

The relationship between a person and the (possibly magical) lake they grew up swimming in can be so special, actually.

Hopefully it's exciting to hear that MC will absolutely be able to continue to be Weirdly Comfortable with the lake. Literally there's going to be a scene next chapter where the relationship between MC and the lake can come up a little bit--someone might even comment on it!

Some MCs, of course, are traumatized as hell and want nothing to do with it. But I do love the MCs who are just like...this is my lake it's special to me it almost killed me but like. In a protective way maybe.

Lake my beloved...

#asks #the lake #ty for the ask!!!

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midnight1nk · 3 days ago

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So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

oh boy, the first episode (+ review) of the year! i am SO EXCITED what they have in store for us for all of 2025, i'm SCREAMING!

(the following is my live reaction:)

god i missed the intro

"...but you can watch the other episodes" no no it hits different

OH we're doing transitions, huh?

he's so silly ��

MARIO HI

quite a resolution but mario please drink water

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING, FOUR

just love the small bits of smooth animation, fantastic

HOLY SHIT FUEGO you came back

and we still got James to voice him, let's gooo!!!

well uh, i didn't expect that song

WHEEZE he's going full-on Mary Poppins, bye bye

if you're gonna make it, don't jinx it mario

sure, we ran out of water, but at least Luigi is supportive :)

HUH what do you mean we're sold out of water? how convenient

...mario don't you dare even think about it

NO NO NOOO

and it exploded, wow

oh HI SMG3!!

*inhales* Three... honey.... can i ask why?

is it bad to say that this feels out of place? idk maybe that's just me

then again, welcome to the SMG4: where literally anything can happen

also great to see the Crew here 💙 hi to all

enjoy the salt! :D yummy yummy

goddamn we started a whole dry-out apocalypse

*ghostbusters theme* 🎶 when it's the end of the world and you're about to die, who are you gonna call? the military! 🎶

worse than death? oh, tummy aches. understandable have a great day! *mary-poppins out of there*

i find it peculiar that we're getting a lot of moments with jesus hmmmmm....

not even God could save us

desperate times call for desperate measures

...well all that just happened and still nothing? maybe throw some explosives to crack the bottle?

damn Three, whatever's going on with this idea of yours, it's not working

but it's nice to have Eggdog helping his dad out

y'know Mario can be a great salesman (learned from the best by Nintendo)

eh close enough, welcome back Sonic Adventure 1 *explodes*

and you got your water Mario, i see no problems here :)

oh plot twist! i didn't think we were gonna get another scene with Fuego tbh

🎶you drink. must drink. you need your zinc—🎶 oh Mario c'mon, that song was really getting into my head

and as always, a chaotic ending

Congrats to Axel (who's indeed here on Tumblr) for your art featured at the end credits 🎉 love your Saiko art 💙

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

I gotta say, this has been a good start for 2025! I'm so glad the Team was able to get a break before then (which they honestly deserved) and now we have a silly little episode today, you just gotta stick with the chaotic vibes of the show :D

And WOW Fuego's return was not on my bingo card but here we are. That was a nice surprise. Plus, some of the creative choices made really went well with its funny moments. It just spices it up, y'know.

Just learned that Shadow sang the song bit at the beginning of the episode and voiced the one fish guy (I FREAKIN KNEW THAT VOICE SOUNDED FAMILIAR) which is awesome fun fact!

And apparently there was an extended scene that was trimmed for today's episode by Star, that you can see the full version (here's the link for you to check it out!)

It feels great to watch an episode that feels like it belongs in the show itself. And no, i haven't forgotten the Dasani x SMG4 lol (ah yes, the true ship of the show) Like I said, it's a good start and I'm so excited what they got for us bc I know the Team's scheming something, I can FEEL it. 4 dollars, bet on it!

And an extra certified point from me FOR NOT ADDING FLAREGLOW OMG I WAS WILLING TO ALLOW IT IF IT WAS GONNA BE A JOKE BUT IF IT WAS A LEGIT SONG I'M GONNA GO INSANE GONNA GO CRAZY I WILL TAKE THE DRINKING WATER SONG ANY DAY THAN THAT PIECE OF—

thanks for stopping by and remember: numbers go first! :) and I'll see you in the next one!!

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #smg4 mario #ink reviews #drink your water chat

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zipgunonparade · 2 days ago

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Heya, pals!! :D Since Super Mario has now been demoted to a minor hyperfixation in replacement of Ace Attorney, I'm gonna post some Luigi headcanons that have been GNAWING on my mind for the past 3 years I've had this hyperfixation. Without further ado, LETSA GO!!! :3 (btw heres credits to the dividers i used here.)

Appearance ⭐:

I don't usually give appearance headcanons, but as you have seen in a few posts of mine, I gave him freckles! Not sure why tho, I just feel like it would suit Luigi.

I got inspired by a crap ton of long-haired Luigi (and by proxy, Mr. L) headcanons and fanart so that's one more to add to my list of headcanons.

As for markings, I headcanon him to have a lot of scars. Specifically on his arms, ranging from his fingertips to his elbows from using his thunderhand ability, being REALLY clumsy, and other stuff I won't mention. There are a few more scars on his legs and torso from either work-related accidents, or accidentally getting scratched up in adventures with Mario. (also top surgery scars but i'll explain that later shush)

Hobbies 🖌️:

A portion of Luigi's hobbies came from him trying to be just like brother, Mario, but Luigi is his own person too, so he has many hobbies to call his own. Just like many other fellas in the Mario community, the Luigi in my AU LOVES engineering (specifically mechanical engineering). Besides that, I think he would love baking with Princess Peach!

I feel like he's the better cook between him and his brother, so in their spare time, he teaches Mario how to cook! Yeah, sometimes the food comes out a tiinnnnyy bit burnt, but hey! At least Mario tried his best! Of course, Luigi knows that, so he gives a tiny pat on Mario's back for not completely burning the food into a crisp.

His other favorite thing to do with Mario is to play videogames!

He's also a former theatre kid in this AU-

His favorite musicals would be Dear Evan Hansen, Mamma Mia, and Annie!

Personality 🎭:

This section's gonna be really short because honestly, I don't know how to describe personalities of other characters, let alone, myself!

So uhhh... here we go..?

I often find Luigi to be more ambiverted, (or maybe extroverted but very socially awkward??? idk just me projecting tho lolz qwq) however HEAVILY leaning on to the introverted side.

From what I've seen he is a HUGE sweetie pie, even if he canonically gets shitted on by like, 80% of the Mario NPCs.

So yeah, thats it for personality I guess... QwQ

Music 🎧:

I feel like since some of the fandom represents him as a hopeless romantic, he enjoys listening to love songs the most.

For some reason, I headcanon him listening to love songs that blink-182 makes lol. (to be specific, this song. its a total banger pls listen to it!!)

Misc. 📁:

All the other headcanons that don't fit the other 3 labels! (sexuality, disorder stuff, etc.)

Personally, I HC him to be autistic and have GAD (or generalized anxiety disorder.) I got this headcanon from watching this video a long time ago, and it just clicked. Something about that man screamed "AUTISM!!!" to me. Idk why.

Now time for sexuality hcs!! For me, I headcanon him as demiromantic bisexual. The vibes just... feel right to me. I also headcanon him being a trans man!! Again, for the reason of the vibes feeling right.

So... that's it! My Luigi headcanons! I wrote this instead of studying environmental laws lol ^_^ It may not be accurate to canon, but that is what makes it an au, I guess.

#luigi #super mario #super mario bros #mario bros #headcanons #autism #my headcanons #character headcanons #anxiety headcanons

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afreakingdork · 2 days ago

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Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 10

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

We're peeling out in this week's chapter art by @dryad-druid

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Incarceration, Prison Time, I flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Exploration, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 🧡 Previous

“Illegal or not illegal?” Mikey asked as soon as Kendra walked up to him.

She reviewed where he was sitting on a curb wearing a backpack that had two skateboards strapped into it. “Which part?”

“Where I teach you to ride.” He smiled up at her.

She was getting far too used to the warm feeling that inspired. “What else goes into that choice?”

He was prepared for the secondary question. “Do you want people to see you wipe out or not?”

“It’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah. One of those sports.”

She debated quietly. She supposed there was no mood of hers that was good enough to want to partake in humiliation. Falling was sure to conjure that, but if it was a given when it came to skateboarding then it was also unavoidable. The little study she had done online hadn’t amounted to much. Tutorial videos were painfully belittling and often had literal children as their dummies to learn. The entirety of the sport itself, if it could be called that, did not hold her interest and she had moved on with the mind that this would be a one-off thing. “If it wasn’t me you were teaching, where would you bring some rando?”

“Hamilton Bridge.” He spoke instantly. “Good flat areas off to the side. Nice vibe. Brooklyn Banks, maybe, depending on where we were.”

She hummed lightly and debated sitting down.

“Thanks for doing this.”

“We’re kind of past the point of running off your energy.”

“Eh, I always got some of that to spare.” He finally hopped up to his feet.

“One of those for me?” She gestured to the boards.

“Yup!” He turned to show her. “Guess which one!”

She spun the cyan wheels of one and could sort of see scales on the board itself. “Hm, I wonder.”

“Dragon warrior, heads up!” He turned back around before she could glimpse his.

“How are you moving your exalted one?” She asked with a turned out finger.

“Public transport or if you wanted… something really wild…?” He had a playful air.

She should have thought twice.

She had the forethought.

‘Something wild’ and that of the ‘really’ variety by Mikey’s definition was bound to be something she didn’t care for.

She was also trying.

Trying to take her next step.

Trying to embody her new self.

Trying to find renewed interest.

He was part of that vision.

She was inclined to trust that much.

“Break it down for me.” She demanded and unfurled her fingers.

In a blur, he twirled the backpack to his front, flipped the flap, and dove down into it to reveal a helmet, which he slapped into her palm. “I’m gonna go all in on my razzmatazz. We’ll get from point here to point there while doing a freestyle street skate routine. That’s aerial stunts, showing off, the feel of flying, falling, and almost crashing, except I would never let you actually fall. At least not yet. Not from like a building height.”

She turned the helmet over since it landed upside-down and it appeared utilitarian for what she expected of Mikey.

She gave a hopeless grin at it.

She looked up to find him admiring the headgear. “Kill me and I will figure out whatever mystic bullshit I need to haunt you forever.”

“I’ll draw up the spell!” He closed the backpack.

She put her helmet on and he got his board free. “Show me that.”

He flipped it to show her the deck. “New board! I painted an updated version of the design I had from when I was a kid. Sentimental junk. It’s an awesome turtle skull that’s on fire!”

“What happened to your old board?” She pulled her chin strap tight.

“Oh, I broke it.” He tucked his board under his arm and helped her adjust the straps on the side.

She stared at him dully.

“I broke a lot of boards. I’ve been skateboarding since I was like 10.”

“Same time you met April?”

“Probably!” He shrugged a little too nonchalant.

“You’ll kill me. I’m going to die. I’ll be dead.” She cursed herself in a haunt.

“No, no!” He feigned a fuss and put his board down. “So…?”

“Fine! Yes. Hurry up!”

He chuckled. “We feeling loose? Wanna stretch?”

“I want to live.” She rolled her shoulders regardless.

“You will. You’ll never feel more alive. Better than jetpacking. I’ll top it all.”

“Brag much.”

“You’ll see, just watch.” He positively gleamed and bowed to offer her his skateboard.

She moved toward the board, but didn’t step up.

He put an authoritative foot on it and took her waist while urging her on.

She pretended to be put out when their hips met.

“Come on, you gotta get up here to be ready.” He downright purred.

“Yeah, yeah.” She pushed him lightly.

“Hold on for me?”

“For you. Not to you?”

“You’d do that anyway.”

She turned her head away as she pressed closer to him.

She blindly felt into his form and delicately skirted his shoulders until she found a grip around his shell.

In a light hop, he lifted her up onto the board.

“Knees bent helps with balance.” He instructed.

She flexed slightly.

He adjusted both their footings on the board before he kicked off.

They picked up speed quickly and he led the movements. From weaving around pedestrians, he used both his hold and their pressed bodies to indicate to her which way to lean. It was only when she was almost doing it on muscle memory did he kick off the curb. They landed in the street and she felt a flare of wariness as they dove into traffic. They maneuvered lights at a rapid pace and she keenly felt the moment his core clenched.

She went from holding his shoulders to nearly wringing his neck.

He kicked back up a curb, a mailbox, an awning, and finally a fire escape before his body revved with energy. In a tug with his free hand, he grabbed the very air before it turned into glowing chains. They had a hollow look in the daylight, but they still sparkled as he used them as a whip. Metal hit metal and with a roll of his wrist, he caught the length and they shot into the sky.

It was just as he described.

The feel of flying.

The threat of falling.

Only the force of the wind kept his board to their feet and his angles to keep it there showed how many times he had done this. Instead of doing actual calculations, he felt out physics in its natural state. Each twist and curve was painted in exact paraboles and he knew just when to throw out another length of chain. It connected to whatever distant object would keep them moving without ever dropping their momentum.

She could tell he was holding back. While they flew from building to building like some neighborhood arachnid poster boy, Mikey was obviously telegraphing his moves. She knew it was for her sake. With his history of duping her under the guise of surprise, it was a sort of welcome action. At the same time, Kendra knew her aerial limits and he wasn’t even close to the adrenaline she had conjured on her own time.

“No-!” She fought the wind as they skated down a rooftop. “No tricks!?”

“Tricks?” He chirped into a grind.

“Yeah.” She squeezed him and leaned to kick off to the next building. “Afraid to up the ante?”

“Me?” He had them leave the board for a moment.

Her stomach flew into her throat with the thrill.

They landed and Mikey wove side to side. “Watch this!”

With a slight bump, he physically asked if she would move.

They were still in motion and Kendra was a little creaky in stepping back. It was the only direction she could go since she had been perched on the nose of the board. There was limited time with the current roof running out, but she managed to slip behind him before the edge came up. She readied for one more, but flailed into another as Mikey kickflipped to change direction. She secured her arms around his waist as they headed straight for a roof access door. This time, he bent his knees to show her when and she was ready with a tight squeeze when he jumped the board onto it. There he engaged all his muscles in a fit of control and kicked off the door so hard that they both shot out horizontally.

Kendra thought the board was a goner, but Mikey twisted. It subverted her world and it turned further upside-down when Mikey caught the ledge they almost flew over with a single arm. For one solid moment, he held them there and she noticed how his other arm had brought the board with them. With clear intent, he made sure the board was adjusted just so before he kicked it like a hacky sack. Building up momentum, he bounced his foot one last time and sent the skateboard straight up into the air. She didn’t have time to watch it as they began to lower. With all his strength in a single arm, he bent at the elbow and she felt the small slack in her helmet give along with all the blood to her brain.

In a single flex, he flung both of them up in the direction he had sent the board.

A delighted cackle erupted from her throat as they made contact and spun. Mikey’s mystic energy burst with sparks and they rotated an amount of degrees that she lost count of. Gravity then caught hold and pulled them down with Mikey crouching as he got the board underfoot again. She followed along, glued to him, and he caught the nose of his board to aim. They hurtled downward where a few pedestrians glimpsed them and screamed.

“EAT YOUR HEART OUT!!!” She yelled as they soared past the onlookers.

They hit a sloped skylight with a force that shattered the windows. Her laughter tinkled along with the glass and they rode down the metal casing before clacking onto another roof. From there it was a few more jumps and flips before they neared the river roads. It was a stepwise dropping process to get them safely to the ground and they skated in a cool down among the sidewalks.

The concrete soon ran out and Mikey turned the board to grind to a halt. The moment she perceived they were safe, she jumped to bowl him over. “Mikey!”

He stumbled off the board and tried to wrangle her.

She crawled over him to keep out of his grasp. “That was great and I do not compliment people!”

“Is that so!? Let me enjoy it! Stop moving!” He couldn’t get his hands on her.

“We have got to do that again! Take me swinging through the city! No wait! Better yet, let me make a jetpack and together-!”

She stopped and he instinctively did the same.

“Or… you can take me. Yeah…”

“Kendra…” He finally got her around to his front.

“I forgot for a second. It’s fine.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“There’s nothing to do about it.” She pulled away.

He let her and only took one sidestep to get the board.

“Can’t do tech. It’s a slippery slope. I fix things sometimes, but that’s it. It’s not illegal, but you get it.”

“Sure, but-”

“Trust me.” She gave him a serious glance from her profile.

He was momentarily stunned and nodded.

She hopped a few steps. “That was good! Ugh! I missed that feeling!! The rush!!”

She gave a yell to the hill they were about to descend.

Mikey continued to watch her.

She breathed out like she hadn’t in a long time.

“Feels good. I feel alive!”

“Gonna feel real good when you nail one of those tricks yourself.”

“That won’t be the same.” She spoke breezily.

“No?”

“How could it?!”

Mikey hummed as if he knew something.

“You spike my wheels or something?”

“No!” He leapt ahead so he could walk backwards in front of her. “It’s that satisfaction of doing it yourself! I have a feeling…!”

“What?”

He continued his silence with a bobbing of his brow ridge.

“What?!” She picked up the pace.

He made it obvious that he would run.

She felt good enough to chase after him.

He let her catch him at the gates of the skate park and she added on the treat of a giggle as they hugged. He clucked happily and his expression was warm enough to toast s’mores on. She held out, but couldn’t keep looking as she surveyed the people here. There were several groups of lanky twenty-somethings. A few parents with kids and some rogue teens that put on the most egregious aura. Kendra knew their type as she had been one and planned to steer clear.

Mikey squeezed her to attention.

“Ready?” She told him as if she hadn’t been canvassing and broke free to enter. “Hurry up!”

“Mhm.” He teased as he followed after.

She jogged over to an open space that was a good distance from other patrons. “What will I accomplish in one day? An Ollie? I read about the mechanics of the typical tricks.”

“First things first…!” Mikey set the backpack down and unlatched her board. He then dug into the bag itself and produced a set of black and teal objects. “We gotta get you into the top priority… Safety!”

She placed that they were pads. “No.”

“You’ll want them when you fall the first time.” He walked them over to her.

“I’m not five!”

“Kendra…”

“You never put on a helmet!”

“I have this whole situation.” He swept a hand over his body. “And kneepads! I’ve been wearing kneepads the whole time! I made kneepads a fashion statement back when you were working that little French hat!”

She gasped full offense.

He smirked.

She outright snorted her dismissal and returned to the subject at hand. “Whatever! They look dumb!”

“Think of your joints!”

“Think of how stupid I’ll look!”

“Dumber when you get hurt…!”

“Ugh!” She snatched them from him. “If I get called a dork one time!”

A quick inventory separated the pad sets and she correctly shoved one arm through the necessary padding. Mikey came around to harmlessly help, but she rebuffed him. Since she was doing what he asked, he let it slide and switched to pulling out her board from his bag instead. He lined it up with his and waited out as she got both knees strapped in.

When she stood, she felt like she hobbled.

She must have because he suddenly chewed his lip.

She seethed.

“I’m taking them off.”

“No! You’re so cute!!” He withered toward her.

She didn’t dodge and let him fall against her. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Unfortunately.”

He smiled wide. “Let’s get on those boards.”

Without holding her hand, he led them over and talked her through the process. He wasn’t demeaning, which she never outwardly thanked. She instead gave him her attention, something she found to be a far more precious commodity, and followed his guidance. She was soon walking the board around, which gradually gave way to her being able to glide on it. The ride then took her to turns and that morphed into the side to side weaves that she had seen him do during his roof stunts.

Her pads didn’t allow her the right range of motion.

They capped her knees where she needed to bend to get the right level of stability.

They hindered her arms where she needed those to act as her true ballast.

“I think you’re ready to go down a bank!” Mikey kicked up his board into his hands.

“Sure, but first…” She got a steady foot on the ground before she ripped the Velcro off one of her pads.

“Uh…!” Mikey wandered towards her.

“I’ve plateaued. I won’t progress like this! They’re in the way!” She went for the other elbow pad.

“That’s not how that works!” He complained.

“I’m fine. I haven’t fallen yet.”

“Again, that’s not-!”

“Which bank?” She eyed the parts of the park available.

“Uh, that one…” Mikey feebly pointed.

She knew the mechanics of kicking the board up as he had, but didn’t have near the same amount of effortless skill. Instead of leaving a mistake up to chance, she simply stepped off her board and ducked down to yank it off the ground in a fluid motion. She grabbed the trucks and hoisted the board up.

He was immediately on her and blocked her with his body. “Oh, hell no!”

“W-what?” She squawked against him.

“That’s called a mall grab. Don’t do that. Only posers do that.” He pulled her board from her.

“What? Why?”

“It means you probably got your stuff from the mall and you’re showing off. I made your board custom.”

“Custom?” She pushed on the wood in his grip to glimpse it.

She had long noticed the colored wheels, but the graphic on the deck hadn’t caught her eye. For the dragon warrior he described her as, the bottom of her board was a series of scales that represented said creature’s body. Now flipped up to the light, she could see an iridescent sheen to the paint and the faint shape of brush strokes.

“How… custom…?” She appreciated the detail.

“I didn’t carve it out if that’s what you’re thinking. I could if I wanted, but there’s all this layering and pressure sensitivity things so keep them safe. We didn’t have that much time, so I did some mental math, eyeballed your measurements, and got a board your size and did all the detailing.” He rubbed down the design. “You know, striping whatever was there before, a devil head I think, and sanding and painting.”

“It’s pretty tame…”

“I didn’t want to assume. The designs are personal. Not to show off, but for you. You can build it up. Put stickers on it or I can paint something else. It’s totally yours.”

“Mine?”

“Mhm.”

“I didn’t plan on making skateboarding a recurring thing.” She revealed lamely.

“So?”

“So what else am I gonna do with this?”

“It’ll make pretty cool wall art!” He gripped the edge of the board. “You hold it like this by the way. Grip tape out.”

She nodded and did as he instructed.

He was quiet for a second. “That… none of this makes you a poser though.”

“I know. I’m a noob.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Save it for when I really am.” She headed toward the closest bank.

He trailed after.

She felt echoes of other times.

It wasn’t like she had been to a skate park before, but she had once been taken to an empty parking lot. Under the guise of getting donuts, her dad had gone around to the trunk instead of the shop. Even at age six, she had tried to correct his folly, but found him pulling out a bike. He set it down and gave it a pat to the seat and hadn’t needed to say more. It had been a sweet gesture and a nice day when he taught her to ride. The glazed rings tasted all the sweeter knowing she had hit some milestone.

She was on the platform of the bank and Mikey had been rattling off instructions beside her. The slope was barely 15 degrees. Looking down it was a joke for how much he was talking. This was patently a ramp for beginners and she had acknowledged she was such. She would do this as many times as necessary to make the movements stick and move onto something else.

There were easy to visualize steps.

“Want me to hold your hand going down the first time?” Her partner asked genially.

“This is shorter than a curb and you didn’t hold my hand when we were hurtling through the sky.” She glimpsed him.

“No, but I was leading then and this is you; it’s new.”

“I’ve got it. Assume the stance.” She demonstrated how she knew to stand with her feet perpendicular to the board. “Knees bent.” She squatted lower. “Ride down.”

“Sure.” He stepped back. “Of course.”

She readied herself and prepared to kick off.

It was a quick change for her feet.

She would need to rotate and get into that stance.

She played how to do so several times before chancing it.

She celebrated when her feet hit the board perfectly.

She cheered at the speed she achieved.

She readied her body with her knees bent to take the drift.

The skateboard tipped with a click and went down the slope.

She rode it until her center of gravity leaned too far back and in a quick slide of the wheels, they soared out from under her. Mikey yelled and her elbows made contact with the bank before he could reach her. The slick surface was worn smooth and she slid the few feet down to where a metal band lined the edge of the bank. Her ass bounced on the metal as it brought her to a halt.

“Kendra!” Mikey slid down to her on his kneepads. “You okay?”

“Don’t!” She flinched away from him.

“I’m not…” His protest was gentle.

“You are! I saw! I know what I…” She winced as she tried to glimpse her elbows.

They weren’t torn, but there was a heat rash from the slide.

Instead of weeping, they just shined up with blood that would never drip.

She clicked her tongue away from it.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m not going to.”

“’I told you so.’” She said it for him.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Why not!?” She turned to him. “It’s so easy! Low hanging fruit.”

“Then it’s boring.” He said simply.

She frowned deeply.

He stared back.

She disengaged because she had no choice.

He sat with her as she folded her legs up.

“This isn’t like riding a bike.”

“There is BMX.”

“Not what I meant!”

He quieted.

“You don’t fall.”

He was ready with a retort that she could tell was saying he could.

She hadn’t.

She never had.

Her dad was there.

The utility of her bike had run out when her mom had gotten sick.

It wasn’t the same, she reasoned. Nothing that reminded her of those times ever was. Falling off a skateboard was nothing like losing her mom and she knew the recurrence was just part of some grieving process. Mikey and all the research she had done were all clear. You fell when skateboarding. You fell; that was learning how to ride. This sport had a prerequisite of ground time to develop one’s skills.

Was it disheartening because that self-fulfilling prophecy came true?

Was it frustrating because Mikey hadn’t been the fall back she thought?

Was it her damned insistence that she didn’t need a safety net?

Like she never had.

Because she always stupidly acted before thinking of the consequences.

She was goal-oriented in the positive sense of the word.

A buzz worthy note to be picked up by resume software.

She adjusted her helmet.

She would sting and she would get back up. She would be sore and she would try again. She would survive this and reach success, but not on this bank. This slope was a joke and she needed higher. Kendra spied one that was at least twice this height and made that a goal. There was also dropping in, but that felt a little lofty for her first day.

“Is it too late to put the pads back on?” She asked quietly.

“Nope. I got alcohol wipes in my bag.”

“Get them?” She asked without looking.

“Course.” He tapped her to signal he was going.

She used the time alone to talk herself up to her feet. Mikey helped wipe her elbows off and she powered through the nettles of the disinfectant. She then got the pads back on and he complimented her battle armor. She liked the change in perspective on the objects and felt the horn sound to signal a charge.

In time, she was skating down the slope with ease. Her issue had been her body. While she accounted for the weight distribution, she had neglected to keep her body level with the shifting angle of the board. It was all about following through and she needed to lean forward where forces pushed her back. She knew that all too well and how to face them head on.

They moved embankments and skated together. Mikey wove expertly around her and encouraged her. She chased after him for speed and was cut off by those teens. It caused her second fall, but this time, she saw nothing but red as she stopped herself with her palms. She used the rashed digits to lash out, but Mikey was already berating them before her claws could land. He took their fight to the battle ground they were in and skated circles around them. They were soon praising him and asking for lessons, but he turned them down in favor of his star pupil that, he warned, they would soon have to watch out for.

They visibly gagged at the display, but Kendra clung to him for the sake of making them sicker. It ran them off and then she stayed close because she was already there. Mikey reminisced about when he used to challenge his brother to skateboard offs to settle disputes. He never used to win due to their larger size so he was forced to get creative. Where they had power, he trained his balance. His ‘one with the board’ mantra was something he spent hours perfecting. In a quick flip, he demonstrated how he could balance on the board on one finger while it was only on two wheels and said his family hadn’t dared to pick a fight with him in years.

She appreciated crushing one's foes and offered him her sense of pride.

It made him smile and she spied a faint teeter.

As if the ground itself betrayed him, the board shot out from his person and he flopped into a heap that only made him laugh. “See!”

She knelt down to help him up.

“We all do it. It always happens” He took her hand with great care. “Even to me.”

Instead of up, she pulled him to her lips.

He languished against her for a moment and broke apart with the spark of an idea. “Let’s do a kickflip!”

“Sure.” She shook her head at him.

Again, all the physics made sense on paper, but hitting those necessary points with the precision she wanted came with muscles she hadn’t used. Over and over the board whacked into her knees pads and she rued the wood for trying to get through them. Mikey was amused by her gloating and helped her in the hop. He would lift her up like a dancer and she kicked the board. It took another dozen tries until it landed how they both wanted and he dropped her right down onto it the moment it did.

She skated away with her arms up and pumping.

It threw off her gravity and she flayed, but stayed upright.

This took learning.

There was no immediate greatness.

One practiced.

One refined code.

A perfect program wasn’t born without trial or error.

With time wearing on, dropping into the bowl was chosen as her last task for the date. They discussed options for what to do after and decided to start with tea. There was a place with fruit ones nearby that seemed alright and helped offset the daunting nature of hooking her board at the edge of the precipice. She was familiar with this sort of drop as she longed to hurl herself over them, but without her usual bravado, it seemed especially deep.

Mikey stood stoic beside her and made it clear that he wasn’t going to attempt his until she did hers.

He would chase her.

She wasn’t going to crash this time.

He would be there and ready.

Her weight was on the back of the board to keep it level, but she got that preparatory foot ready to push forward.

Mikey did the same.

She bent her knees.

He mirrored her.

She readied herself with a small wiggle.

Mikey chuckled softly to himself.

There was no call to action as she let her weight drop.

She only kept herself parallel to the board.

She had to steel herself to stay in line.

In a rush and bottoming out of her stomach from the speed, she skated straight into the bowl with Mikey right beside her.

She went partially up the next ramp, but didn’t bother giving it a kick of momentum. She slid right back into the bottom and ran straight off the board in her excitement. She saw glimpses of her little self cheering for riding without her dad’s hand and she turned to Mikey who similarly scooped her up to celebrate. He propped her on his shoulder to show her off and one of the teens from earlier who had stuck around joined in the congratulations.

Kendra blamed adrenaline for her warm cheeks as she was sat down.

“Now that!” Mikey shouted. “Was amazing! You can’t take that from me! First try! That’s my girl!!”

She swatted him lightly, but leaned into him. “That deserves a treat.”

“Oh! Treat time! Tea? You ready?” He kicked up both their boards.

Kendra caught hers and Mikey rounded her with excited screams to hype her up more.

She laughed.

He ate up the sound as he came back around to her front.

“Martabak would be good.”

“What’s that?!” His attention popped.

“Kinda… like a pancake? It’s sweet and special… I guess. I learned it from-I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s like the only thing I can cook. That and basics: ramen, scrambled eggs, fried rice, sandwiches.”

“You can make that!?” He leaned too far into her. “Not the other stuff, but that martabak thing?”

She pushed his excitement down. “I guess!”

He dropped to his knees to beg. “Make it for me.”

He hadn’t even said please and she was sort of impressed. “They aren’t that good.”

“I don’t care! Cook for me!”

“Mikey!”

“I will do this all the way to the tea place.”

“Mikey!!”

“For weeks if I have to!”

“No!”

He inhaled a single time, not enough for what he prepared to do, and immediately began to say ‘please’ over and over and over.

“Stop! No! Fine! Whatever! I’ll make them! You’re not allowed to complain when it’s mid!”

“Yes!” He twirled up into the air to make a video game-esque power pose. “Wait! No! It won’t be mid and oh!”

“What now!?” She tipped her board to grab his bag.

“Cooking show date!”

“What?!” She reared incredulously.

“Yes! Let’s do it! It’s perfect! I need pictures of you anyway and videos are like pictures that move! I feel like I’m missing out! We’ve been on so many dates now and I will start forgetting and I don’t have evidence of all the tricks you did today! Your first time skateboarding!? What am I even doing!?”

“You are not going camera dad on me.”

“I’ll get all your good angles?” He rounded her while making a rectangle with his hands.

“Pain in the ass.”

“Does it still hurt?” He lowered his pseudo-lens.

“Kiss it and make it better.” She sneered and got hold of his backpack. He had a blush to him that was knocked clean off as she chucked the object at his midsection with all her force.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #AENEMfic for updates)

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