#you can poke me again and I can ramble for another hour about engines

[choko-flan]

How does one get started in making rpg games? What do you do first? Also could you recommend some rpg maker devs to follow?

۹(ÒvÓ)۶ Thankyou for this ask btw!For how to get started in making rpg games there’s many factors to take accountwhich are: 

Are you new to rpg maker? 

If you never use rpg maker I strongly say thatyou 

SHOULDN’T go head first and make a super long game. Youcan, but just note that you are going to get stuck on everything. Just making asmall test project to get to know the engine really helps you to know how tobasically use the engine. 

USE YOUTUBE ITS YOUR FRIEND. 

Whattype of story do you want to make?

Try to write down the basic ideas of thetype of game you want to make. For example: a game about a young elf girl istrying to find the shard pieces for a star she broke. Just something basic, fora concept it doesn’t have to have a million endings and everything the fullgame is going to have.

Demon Tea’s concept idea was basically ademon girl that ran from home and found a village where she met a happy golucky person. 

Concepts =/= the final game, your concept is just the foundation/ plan ofthe game. Like how you draw guide lines for a drawing, the guide lines aren’tgoing to be in the final picture but its there to help you.

Don’t go crazy on your game: Don’t get trap in remake hell [PERFECTIONISM]

We all want to make our games amazing and the bestthing ever, but please take in account that nothing can be perfect. Its not abad thing it’s the truth, there is no such thing as a perfect game. Every gamehas flaws but even if a game isn’t perfect it can still be enjoyable. Perfect=/= enjoyable.

Enjoyable= how a person felt about a certain thing. I enjoy sonic adventure 2 and it’s avery flaw game but I still enjoy it. Like how people enjoy the movie the room, it’sa very flaw movie but people love it because of the flaws since it makes themovie.

Thoughjust because the game isn’t perfect =/= not to care how you made the game, youshould put effort and care into the game. Just remember that the game is somethingyou are doing for fun and enjoyment. Don’t go crazy over wanting to make thebest game in the world, since this is a subjective term. Meaning what peopleview as the best is different from you.

Justdo your best and the work will pay off for sure.

Whatis the reason you want to create the game?

Understand your true motive on why youwant to create the game you are making the game and make sure you always rememberwhy you are making the game.

But please note: that you should be makingthe game for fun and because you want to do it, making a game just to be popularcan be a reason but it would be something that drives perfectionist since youare trying to make a game people like rather than a game you care about. This would lead to self-doubt andredoing things over and over never making progress. You can dream about seeingpopular lets players playing your game and having a bunch of people playing it.BUT DON’T think its going to be the next Undertale and get ahuge fanbase of people all around you go crazy about things. Don’t expect yourgame to go off the day you release it, don’t get upset that you only got 10downloads on day one. Be happy that you did it, that you let your game out inthe world.Everything will pay off but don’t justthink you’ll get super popular, popularity takes time and just happens. Don’tgo crazy on being popular, rather think of the main reason you want to createthat story.

 Popular =/= happiness, it’s nice to havepeople caring about your work, just don’t have it all go to your head andstress yourself out into a perfectionist cycle.  

Trynot to compare yourself to others:

This is something I’m familiar with, comparingyourself to other devs or games and bashing yourself because “why can’t I bethat good”.  Please understand this: 

YOU ARE YOU!

I mean this you are you, don’t look at othersand put yourself down since what I learn is that there always someone behindyou looking up to you. You think you are the worst but there’s people who findyour work amazing. Your work is blind to yourself because you see it every day,but to someone else its amazing.

You must be you, not like dev x and devy. You can be inspired by them but don’t doubt yourself on how you can’t do thingslike them.

 EVERYONE CAN DRAW AND CAN-DO THINGS.  It’s the matter of learning the skill to getbetter at it. Art is a skill not a talent, its something you master and keepgetting better at. Same with being a dev you get exp points and you level up.Like a rpg tbh since you get exp and level up the more you practice a skill.

Learnto take feedback:

When someone gives you feedback on yourgame there are different types which I won’t cover all of them. Just know youare letting your game out in the public eye, you will have people who tell youthey like your game and others who tell you they didn’t enjoy it. If its civilthat’s A-Okay, since its their opinion.

 You will get feedback that is critiques whichisn’t a bad thing, just understand if it’s someone who is just saying “Yourgame sucks” or “The protag looks weird” without context, this isn’t a critique.Don’t censor critiques btw, like if people are pointing out things like thegame has plot holes or things that are feedback that can help your work. Don’tyell at them or shut them down, take the advice. Just because the player doesn’tmake games don’t mean they can’t give you feedback. 

Feedback is free and helpful so take all you can get from it.

Justdo it:

I canlist everything about being a dev, but this is what I can say to you, just doit. If you are passionate about wanting to create a game just do it. Once Iheard about rpg maker games I didn’t ask anyone I just dive head first into it.OvO/ It’s amazing now that people can ask other devs things like this about howto get into making games.

 Beinga dev =/= an alien. No, we are just people who have a huge passionate in storytelling,art, music, games, etc. Making games is a media that lets a person get to seethe world in the eyes of the character.

 Withrpg maker it makes it easier for people to get into game making which helpsthem get into another engine. It doesn’t matter if you are making a rpg makerbattle system, a spooky horror game, a walking simulator, etc. Make the gameyou dream of making and just do it.

 Everythingin the world has been done before, but just take your spin at it, make a gameyou enjoy and don’t let others put you down since you want to make a game abouta young sweet female protag that wakes up in a strange world but can’t rememberwho they are. Just make the game you want to make.

Amazing Devs to Follow:Here’s some amazing devs to follow, who all haveamazing games.

ClockworkPrince 

@rukomura-games

@zmakesgames

@akademia-project

@toxicshroomswamp

@virgovsthezodiac

@blinking4soup

@lonestargame

@land-sea-entropy

@living-playground

@pannacotta1

@plueschkatzeart

@overcast-rpg

@arcadea-rpg

@blackcrystalsrpg

@teal-crown

@midnighttrain-project @teamstellaria

@pakilusin

@akuinome

@purple-game

I do hope this was helpful in some way,I drop what dev work I was doing to answer this since it just made my day. Ihope this helps anon, and if you need anything just ask. I hope this informationwas helpful, I tried my best not to make a text wall. In the future I’ll make agoogle document about things I took and learn from being a game dev. ( I really hope this text wall was okay)

(≧∇≦*) I hope you have a wonderful day btw.

[geminimoonbeamx]

She’s Got Bette Davis Eyes

A/N: I'm going to be real; I miss Steve’s loser in a sailor uniform era. I’m not sure how I feel about the return of King Steve but well. Don't even get me started how much I hated the forced throat fucking that is the Duffers trying to make Stancy a thing again. Despite all that, I’m happy to have our baby boy back. 

Warnings: Smut. Road Head. Steve getting his shit verbally rocked. 

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington has been on like, a hundred shitty dates this month alone. He really doesn't expect his date with you to be any different. 

The movie the two of you had gone to see was garbage. Zombiethon. Literally as horrible as it sounds, you’d pushed for that new Demi Moore flick but Steve had become a bit of a movie connoisseur since working at the Family Video.

A bit of a douche too, but then like. Hadn't he always been one?  You’re contemplating why you’d accepted the date at all while he pokes at his coke float with a straw. The diner is in full rage, loud enough that it drowns out any chance of conversation- 

Steve’s corny pick up lines are lost to the hustle and bustle, drowned out by the jukebox and old team mates coming up to pay homage to the former King of Hawkins High himself. 

You’d gotten ready for this. Like, really. Taken hours primping and priming. Your hair fell, practiced and shiny. Your lip gloss gleamed in the light. The denim skirt you wore was just on the right side of slutty. This worked for you, with guys- always. And still, it seemed like Steve wanted to be anywhere but sitting across the table from you- 

And you? Yeah, you’re taking that pretty personally. 

If he thinks he’s going to get a kiss at the door and a second date after this he’s dead wrong. 

You let him ramble, about his dumb job and his dumb hair and his weekend trip to Indianapolis a month ago. All the while smiling, nodding, giving a quip and taking the cues. 

You're more than happy when the check comes in the form of the older woman with a smokers cough. You're pulling out your purse before she’s even dropped it on the table. 

“No, no, no. I invited you out, It’s my treat-” he pats at his pockets. 

You ignore him, pulling the crisp twenty out of your wallet and handing it to the woman. Nora, her name tag reads. “Here you go, keep the change” 

She smiles at you, before turning sharp eyes to Steve, muttering about how all the real men died in Nam’.  

Your pounding pavement towards his car. Funny, all throughout high school you’d yearned to ride passenger in the maroon BMW, and now you weren't too sure you wanted to get in it at all. It wasn't that much of a walk, back you your house- why had you chosen these tall ass wedges?

“I had that tab, back there. You didn’t have to-” Steve starts the engine, sounding uneasy and unsure for the first time tonight and hah. Good. Misery loves company, and you’re the petty bitch that will enforce the fact. 

“You snooze you lose” 

“Uh-” He makes a face, confused as you play with his radio. If he wants to be a dick fine, but you refuse to do another awkward car ride filled with his shitty taste in music. Megadeth it is. 

Your house is just outside of town, at least a thirty minute ride. 

At five minutes in you decide what the hell. You turn the knob, metal fading  “Quick quesh, why did you ask me out if you’re obviously not interested in dating anyone?”

“What? That’s not true. I date, all the time-” 

“Ah, so just not interested in dating me. Like in particular” 

“No, I wouldn't have asked you out if I wasnt interested in you. Dating you. Dating anyone” 

“Can I share my theory with you? I mean I did let you explain the entire synopsis of Casablanca back there so like, my turn” You get comfortable in the leather seat, wiggling so that you're leaning bag against the door, directly facing him. He’s cute, that dumb little look on his face. The confused nod. 

“So you haven't really been with anyone since Nancy Wheeler- 

“Not true” 

“Yeah you’ve dated like half the girls in this town. But boyfriend, girlfriend? Not since Wheeler. Suspicious? Kind of” 

“It’s not suspicious, I just haven't been with anyone that I wanted to take that next step with” Steve defends himself, bristling a little bit. Fuck if your going to let this go. Who cares if he’s uncomfortable? This is the most fun you’ve had all night. 

“Sure. It’s okay, I’ve done the hung up on the ex thing too- like for years. I just wish you would’ve told me” you shrug 

“Told you what exactly?” 

“That you weren't on the market for anything other than…physical relationships” you pick your brain for the right words. 

His mouth gapes, open, snaps closed. Nose scrunches and well. “That's not something I really go around just advertising. Girls aren't into that” 

“Aren't they?”’

“Are you?” He rebuts, doubtful. Hopeful, but mostly doubtful.  

Bingo. Right on the money.

You bite your cheek, trying to contain your grin as you reach over the console, your hand on Steves denim clad thigh “I think as human beings, it’s kind of fucked up to deprive ourselves of touch. It’s one of the five main senses and all that. I mean, so you don't want to get married...that doesn't mean you can't get your dick wet” 

Steve hisses as your fingers drag, right over his fly. “Y/N”-

“Shh, just keep driving. Don't you wanna have a little fun?” you massage his bulge and reach over, because fuck it. You're in this deep already. Rejection would sting but this date had already been horrible. 

You aim for his stubbled cheek, but he turns his head last minute, his plump lips meeting yours. Fuck, this is the good stuff. The legendary stuff. High School mythology etched on the walls of the girls bathroom, whispered in reverence between friends. Steve tastes like mint, feels like sunshine. Uses the perfect amount of tongue. 

You pull away after a moment. “Eyes on the road, hot stuff”

Now why did he take you to the worst movie of all time, when the two of you could’ve been doing this all night? Boys are so stupid. Even pretty rich ones with good hair. 

You nose behind his ear, drag your lips down his throat as your fingers begin to work on his zipper, giggling when he swallows roughly. 

“All this fun’s gonna get us killed” 

“Come on, you're a great driver. Just focus, okay” you pull away, and his head leans, following without his permission. “Or do you want me to stop?” 

You spear your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at him with big bright eyes. The shadows of your eyelashes dancing in the passing streetlights. 

“That's killer, you know that? Not fair at all. If we end up in a ditch, it’s all your fault” He sighs, concedes, reaches down to lean his seat back. 

“You worry too much. But wouldn't that be kind of rad? Death by road head. We’d have the coolest gravestones ever” You whisper wetly into his ear, tugging on the lobe with your lips. 

He just shakes his head. 

Turns out a thirty minute drive is more then enough to make Steve Harrington turn into a puddle of goo. His chest heaves and he white knuckles the steering wheel as you work him over. 

It’s sloppy and crude, the squelching and gagging echoing around the car. His thighs shake and it takes everything to keep his eyes from crossing. He sneaks a peak, down at your bobbing head, at the way that your’e putting your all into it. Those little hurt sounds you keep making when the fat head catches the back of your throat, just right. He snaps his hips up, cruel. Needing to hear it just a little bit louder as you struggle. 

He can’t do this. 

“Y/N- fuck. Ease up-” 

You double down. 

Elm Drive 

He makes a wide swerve of a turn before stomping on the breaks. Your house is just down at the end of the block. 

When he comes , with a shout and his fistful of your hair, it's blinding. He feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, before his spine turns to liquid. 

He’s wrecked. 

And you? You’re fine. Just peachy as you pull off with a pop. Spit and cum smeared across the bottom of your face. He accepts the little peck you give him eagerly. 

You’re wiping your face clean, reapplying your lip gloss and dabbing at the corners of your teary, mascara smudged eyes as Steve tries to come back down to earth, his chest still heaving embarrassingly when you seem so…composed. 

He inches down the street, feeling a little high. He probably shouldn't be driving right now- 

When he pulls in front of your house, porch light on and quaint, you instantly grab your bag. Ready to go. 

“So I’ll um- call you? We should hang out again. Soon? Preferably” 

You throw your head back and laugh, almost meanly “That’s going to be a no from me. This was the worst date I’ve ever been on. Like ever. Lose my number, Harrington” 

You’re out of the car before he can wrap his head fully around what you’d said. No? What? The passenger door slams. 

He’s pretty sure you’re going to leave him high and dry- take the steps up to the porch and call it a night. Instead, you freeze, contemplating for a moment. Your eyes scan the street, peeled for any sign of your neighbors before your wiggling your thick thighs, reaching up under your skirt. 

“Something to think about. If you ever decide that you want to…take that next step” You grin leaning into his driver side window. Handing him the pair of baby blue panties. Still warm. Very much wet. 

Steve poor dick jumps. “I’ll take it into consideration” 

He can’t help but grin. That stupid look on his face the entire time he watches you walk the path, shut your front door behind you. 

Steve had taken out no less than a dozen girls in the last few months, everyone leaving him feeling more unsatisfied than the last. He looks at the blue lacy fabric in his hands, and thinks yeah. 

He’s pretty sure he owes you a second date. 

Welp. This was filthy. If you're interested in reading a part two of this, let me know! I think these two could be really fun. Also, food for thought. My ask box is open. 

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. “I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Nighter

Previous Parts: Extracurricular Teacher’s Pet

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness; name calling;

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your academic worries are compounded by your personal dilemma.

Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I caved and we get a third part.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Halfway through the lesson, you excused yourself. As Ransom waited at the front and students scoured over an excerpt of Catcher in the Rye, he sent you another jarring message. It was time. 

You stood carefully, the skirt offering little coverage and knowing you were about to be even more exposed. You ducked down as you walked along the front row and disappeared through the door.

You went to the restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Your phone vibed again, still clutched tightly in your hand. ‘Show me.’ He demanded and even in font, the words made you shudder.

You sighed and held your phone out at an angle with one hand as you opened the camera. You directed the lense to your skirt and tugged it up until your purple panties were exposed. You shimmied as you slid them down on either side with your fingers and let them fall past the top of your stockings. You ended the recording and hit send before collecting your crumpled underwear.

You folded them and shoved them up your sleeve and locked your phone. You returned to the class, unnoticed, and sat in your seat with your head down. You bent back the cover of the book and tried to focus on the passage. You could hear Ransom as he rocked in the old office chair.

You peeked up at him as he held his phone up. His face was blank as he watched the screen. His finger tapped the phone and he nodded. He lowered his cell and his eye caught yours before you could shy away. He winked and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with a brief summary. Who wants to begin?” He stood and approached the podium again. “Go ahead.”

You blinked and realised he was pointing at you. You let out a prolonged uh and shuffled your book dumbly.

“Um, in this chapter, uh, Holden tells us about his neighbour, Jane, and um,” you squirmed a Ransom stared at you and you felt the attention of every other student in the lecture hall, “As the chapter progresses we learn that Holden has shared with her things, like Allie’s baseball glove, that he hasn’t with anyone else and in turn, eh, erm, Jane’s character disassembles and both Holden and the reader wonder after her alcoholic stepfather and even if he has… a-abused her. Holden prefers to think of her, however, as innocent, and accepts a not very convincing denial. Really, he hears what he wants to and goes on without a single--” You stopped as you began to ramble. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ransom appeared amused and leaned on the podium. “Okay. Any other interpretations?”

He looked around and you deflated in your chair. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be talking about Jane and her vile stepfather, and you didn’t want your professor to keep looking between your legs. But just like Holden, Ransom couldn’t see anything but his own male ego. Anyone else was just a stepping stone in his grand American narrative.

🖊️

When class ended, you were as eager as any other to be gone. The two-hour block at seven in the evening was hardly anyone’s ideal, even if it was a weeknight. You slid your notebook away and the used edition of Salinger. You dropped the pens into the side pocket of your worn messenger bag and stood to watch your peers flood out of the classroom.

You wanted badly to be on your way and for an instant, you had a glimmer of hope that you might. But then you heard the deep breath and your name was called from behind you. 

“Just a minute,” he said with all pretense of deceiving any stragglers, “You seem to be missing a page from your assignment.”

You turned slowly and left your bag in the seat. You neared him and your nostrils flared as your gaze met his. It wasn’t even your paper he held. You swallowed back your reticence and pretended to look at the essay. 

“Oh, sorry.” You said as he peered over your shoulder.

“Go on,” he lowered his voice as the upper doors finally closed with a heavy clank. 

You cringed and reached up your sleeve and pulled out your panties. You let them fall onto the folder and he poked his fingers through the fabric and stretched them out. He hummed and rubbed the cotton between his fingers.

“You got anything sexier?” He snatched them up and shoved them in his pocket. “I thought you college girls were funner than that.”

You glared at him and crossed your eyes. “Right, is that everything?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Sweetie, I don’t like that tone.” 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. He shuffled away his papers as you retreated to grab your own bag. You headed for the door as you unfolded your jacket from over your arm.

“Where are you going? I didn’t dismiss you.” He called from behind you. You turned back and stared at him.

“I have class in the morning.” You said.

“And?” He scoffed. “It’s only nine.”

You were quiet as he approached you. You wanted so badly to scream and hit him. He was a frat boy with tenure. He was as slimy and shady as every guy on campus and you had been deluded enough to think that age and title would change a spoiled brat with a silver spoon still lodged firmly in his mouth. Oh, the naive romanticism of a sophomore.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He snickered and kept on as you backed away from him. He had you against the door as he slapped his hand above your shoulders and loomed over you. He leaned in as his other hand played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Because I can.” He purred, “And because I love the look in your eyes as I’m balls deep.”

“Ew,” you slapped his chest but he didn’t flinch. He merely grabbed your arm and spun you around as he pushed the door open behind you.

“Good thing you took those panties off,” he sneered, “You won’t be needing them.”

🖊️

You spent the car ride hunched against the passenger door, wishing you were anywhere else. Ransom let the radio fill the silence as he barely seemed to recall your presence. He steered with one hand, unbothered by the tension between you. As he pulled up to his house, its tall glass windows and geometric structure thrust you into a whirlwind of deja vu.

He killed the engine and rounded as you remained in your seat. You were too numb to do anything but sit there and stare at the house. You remembered patches of that night; stumbling up the walk, Ransom carrying you up stairs, his body against yours, the disorienting pain of his intrusion.

The door opened and you nearly fell out of the car. The seatbelt kept you from your descent and you unbuckled it as Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you out into the crisp autumn evening. Your boots tapped melodically as he led you up the paved walk and you found it hard to think straight.

“Wait, wait,” you stopped as you reached the threshold, “No, Ransom, Professor… this is… wrong. You can’t--”

“For such a quiet little bitch you sure don’t shut the fuck up,” he snarled as he unlocked the door, one hand still on your arm. Your blood froze as you thought of your bag on the floor of the car, your phone buried in the side pocket. “Come on.”

“No, please,” you wriggled in his grasp, “You can’t keep doing this to me. I’ll… I’ll tell.”

“Not if I tell first,” he said coolly and bent to sling you over his shoulder. “Now let’s give you something to tell about.”

He pushed through the door and slapped your ass as he carried you inside. You kicked and writhed over his shoulder as he strode into the front room. The lights shone as they were triggered by some unseen sensor.  

He carried you to the modern sofa with its flat cushions and low back, and dropped you onto it gruffly. You bounced and bit your tongue painfully.

“Don’t make me tear those clothes off or you won’t have anything to wear in the morning,” he warned as he kicked off his leather boots and paced along the broad windows that formed the front wall of the room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack in the corner and turned back to you. “Well…”

You bent to unzip your boots and shoved them aside. You heard a clink and looked over your shoulder. Ransom stood behind the small bar along the far wall and plunked a glass on top.

“Seem to loosen up with a few drinks in you,” he pulled out another tumblr and a bottle of dark whiskey. “This stuffs a lot better than that toilet water they serve in the club.”

You ignored him and stood to remove your jacket. You realised that there was no way out. You kept trying to convince yourself there was but that only made it worse. You hung your coat beside his as he watched you closely and gave a measured pour.

“Here,” he slid a glass across the bar. “Drink up, sweetie.”

“I’m not thirsty,” you ignored him and walked nervously back to the sofa. Was it better to have it done with?

“I don’t care what you want now get over here and drink,” he growled. “Or I’ll force it down that pretty little throat myself.”

You blanched and slowly crossed to the bar. You took the short glass and raised it, the alcohol made your nose tingle. He watched you as he drained his own tumbler. You tossed it back in three stinging gulps and coughed as you set the glass back on the bar. He chuckled and poured again, but didn’t add any to his empty glass.

“Again.” He ordered.

“Please, I can’t--” You waved your hand as you touched your raw throat. He stared at you and his jaw twitched. You pouted and lifted the glass again. You drank with tears in your eyes and gasped as you swigged it down. “There.” You choked as you planted the tumblr on the bar top. 

He reached over as if to pour some more and grinned as he hovered the bottle over your glass. He laughed and lowered it down onto its base instead. “Good girl.” He came out from behind the bar and neared you, drawing you away with him. “But you’re not naked yet.”

He thrust you ahead of him and you stumbled to the sofa. Your wits were buzzing from the whiskey and your empty stomach rolled. You hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon, right before your second lecture. You were wholly unprepared for the alcohol and the man before you.

You reached and tugged at the bottom of your turtleneck. You pulled it up and freed your head from it with a grunt. You dropped it onto the sofa and Ransom touched your shoulder where he’d bit you days before. It was still tender and made you wince. You unbuttoned your skirt and pushed the zipper down. It fell to your ankles without much effort.

Ransom’s hands went to your chest and he fondled your tits through your plain bra. He reached around you and unhooked it easily, yanking it down your arms and flinging it away. His fingers danced along your side and you hooked your thumb under the top of your stockings.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “Keep those on.”

You retracted your hand and he gripped your shoulders. He pushed until you sat on the sofa and he backed away slightly. His tongue poked out as he took you in and he grinned. He pulled his knit sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. He made quick work of his undershirt and revealed his muscled torso. You squeezed your legs together and stared at your knees.

“We both know those college boys are nothing compared to me, sweetie,” he teased as you heard the buckle of his belt. “It’s okay, you can have a peek.”

You didn’t say anything as you listened to him strip. When he neared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. He grabbed your chin and forced your head up. His other hand moved below your vision as he stroked himself. 

“Get up,” he demanded and you stood with a sway. The whiskey stormed inside of you.

His hand fell to your arm and he dragged you away from the sofa. He directed you towards the tall windows and you shivered as you got closer. He stopped you before the glass and brought your hands up and planted them against the window. You felt the chill through it as he grasped your hips and drew your feet back. You stared out onto the drive, the street barely visible just beyond the curve, although you could see the lights of the neighbour’s house.

“What--”

“Shhh,” he tickled your spine and groped your ass roughly. “Stay just like that, sweetie.”

He slipped his hand down and kicked your feet apart. He felt along your folds and you shivered as his warmth contrasted against the cold seeping through the glass. Bumps rose along your skin as he poked around your entrance.

“Wet, already.” He tisked, “I thought you were a good girl.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes as he reached to your clit and rubbed it with two fingers. You gasped as he teased you and drew back to shove a finger inside you. He grabbed your shoulder as your back arched and stepped closer. He pulled his hand away and prodded you with his tip again.

“Professor…” You hissed.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pushed your face against the glass as he slowly forced his tip inside of you. You groaned and turned so that your cheek rested against the cool window and he impaled you entirely. You slapped the glass and your fingers curled as he filled you.

“Ah,” you whined and he bucked so that your whole body quaked.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rocked against you as his thick breaths surrounded you. “You had me hard all night, sweetie. I could barely fucking stand straight.”

He tilted his hips into you as you were on tiptoes and your legs began to tremble beneath you. You clung to the glass, afraid you might collapse. He nuzzled your head and growled as sped up. You moaned without thinking as your walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he hummed and dropped his hand from your neck, trailing both along your chest and stomach. He hunched over you as he felt around the back of your thighs and panted into your hair. “You can play coy all you want but your cunt says it all.”

His hands stretched across your thighs and you exclaimed as he suddenly scooped you up. He bent your legs to your chest as he lifted you and your fingertips slid along the glass. He hooked his arms under your knees and opened you up as he hammered into you from below. 

He stepped closer to the window and you braced yourself against it as your reflection stared back at you. The inky dark was clouded by the glare of the light inside and revealed to you your shame. Your eyes drifted down and you saw how easily he slid in and out of you.

Your legs tensed around his arms and your breath hitched. You shut your eyes as your mouth fell open and felt your core bloom. You were close, so close, and you needed to cum. You didn’t care that it was him or that it was here; you had to.

You kept one hand on the window and snaked your other down to your cunt. You flicked circles around your clit as the sound of your flesh mingled with his. He crashed into you harder and harder and snarled into your neck.

“You fucking slut,” he rasped, “You touching yourself? Huh? You fucking like it.” He pulled your legs further apart until your hips rang with pain. “Bad girl.”

You spasmed and came with a squeak. You felt yourself dripping down his cock as the warmth leaked from you. You smacked your slick hand against the window again and bit down on your lip as he rutted into you with gristly grunts.

“Say it. You’re a bad girl.” He puffed.

“Wha--”

“Say it,” he slammed into you hard.

“I’m-- I’m a… bad… girl,” you choked out. “Oh, oh, I’m bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said frantically and stilled you. He sniffed and held you on him. “Get…” His voice trailed off and he lifted you from him.

He lowered you swiftly and your legs wobbled dangerously beneath you. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to your knees. He brought you close as he stroked himself desperately.

“I’m gonna cum on your tits, sweetie,” he moaned, “I’m gonna--”

He grunted and strings of cum erupted from him as he angled his dick over you. His cum spurted over your chest and shoulders, even along your chin and cheek as his body shook and his fingers sank into your neck. He twitched as he slowed his hand and sighed as he let his cock bob freely before him.

“Mmm,” he let go of you and looked down at you with a smirk, “You look amazing covered in me.” 

He ran his hands over his chest and exhaled. You tried to stand and he caught your shoulder. “Crawl.” He ordered. “Get on the sofa and wait for me, sweetie.” He ran his finger through the cum along your cheek, “I won’t be long.”

🖊️

You woke in a fog. Your thighs, your hips, your cunt all ached. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at the pristine white ceiling. You were sprawled flat on the stiff sofa, alone. Your mouth was dry and your tongue tasted of flesh and alcohol. You groaned and sat up as your head reverberated. The sky outside was a dull grey and the clock above the door read just before seven. Fuck.

Your name floated in from the doorway at the other end of the room. You hung your head and stood. You took the throw draped over the back of the chair beside the couch and covered yourself. You neared the arch and peeked inside. Ransom poured a cup of coffee from a French press.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass in gear,” he said smugly as he pushed the mug across the island.

You grumbled and crossed to the marble counter. You climbed up onto a tall stool and winced at the tenderness between your legs. The coffee smelled delicious as your stomach churned.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with me,” he taunted. “What time you done today?”

You frowned and took a boiling sip, barely noticing how the coffee seared your tongue. “Four… why?”

“Hmm, that’ll be a long day,” he said. “But not… too long.”

His cryptic words made you scowl and he left you without explanation. He returned with a pink box and his phone. He placed both on the counter. You watched him, confused, and he eased the lid off the box. Inside, was a silicon plug in hot pink. You shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly.

“It’s for your cunt, calm down,” he said.

“No,” you repeated and cradled your mug. “Ransom…”

“Professor. I think I prefer ‘professor’. It’s… proper.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He flicked his finger over his phone and it unlocked. He tapped and you leaned on your elbow. He pressed his finger against the centre of the circle that appeared and the box began to buzz as the plug vibrated. He dragged his finger around the circle and the toy intensified. You blinked.

“We’ll save that fun for class tomorrow night,” he licked his lip, “For now, you just need to… adjust.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You take me well enough.” He slithered. “Gotta have you ready… I have a break just after five. I expect you can hit pause on your studying for a visit.”

You were stunned. You set the cup down and rubbed your cheeks as you tried to process it all.

“You’re disgusting.” You sneered.

“Oh,” he closed the app and searched through his phone. He turned it to you and hit place, “So are you, sweetie.”

You squinted as you saw yourself against the glass, your tits bouncing as Ransom fucked you from behind, his own face hidden by the angle of the security camera. You swallowed and your hands went to your neck as your skin burned with humiliation.

“You…” you were speechless and tore your eyes way from his phone.

“I have a lot more than that,” he assured you as he spun the phone back to him and watched the footage with a leer, “Hurry up.” He locked the screen. “Or I’ll make sure we’re both late.”

[kimoralov3]

Best Friend's Brother

Requested By: Anonymous

Word Count: 2055

Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!black!reader

Warnings: Swearing like a lot of it

(Y/N)'s POV

"AJ, Cass, help me bring these sheets and stuff to the extra bedroom upstairs." Sarah said as she poked her head in the kitchen.

"Why are you setting up the extra bedroom room?" I asked as I munch on a slice of cornbread.

"Sam is coming back home and he's bringing a friend." Sarah explained as pointed the boys in the direction of the linen closet.

"Wait, Sam's coming back?" I asked as I looked up at her.

"Yeah. (Y/N), I told you this like a week ago. Do you not remember?" Sarah asked, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips as she walked over to me.

"Oh, right! Sorry, I must've forgotten. What time is he getting here?" I asked as I sat up straight.

"Sometime later today. He said that he was gonna stop by the docks to check on the boats before he got here though. You should meet him there."

"Why exactly should I do that?"

Sarah gave me a look that said 'I ain't stupid' before answering me. "Don't play dumb, (Y/N). I remember how much you used to talk about how you liked him, and how you wished you could just gain the courage to ask him out. And judging by how you reacted just now, I'm guessing that those feelings haven't disappeared just yet."

"I hate how smart you can be sometimes." I huffed out as I rested my head on the counter. Sarah chuckled before patting me on the back.

"You should tell him. You can't keep stuff like this bottled up forever."

"But what if he rejects me? I couldn't bear the embarrassment." I mumbled as I turned to rest my cheek flat against the counter.

"Well then you accept it and move on. But I highly doubt that you'll get rejected." Sarah said as she went to go help the boys.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked as I leaned my head up.

"You'll find out eventually!" Sarah yelled from upstairs. I groaned, rubbing my face before going home.

----

Sam's POV

"So you have a sister?" Bucky asked as he looked at me.

"Yeah, why?" I asked as I looked at him suspiciously. Bucky just gave me a smirk and shrugged. "Oh no, I know that look. Keep that cyborg arm of yours away from my sister."

"I make no promises, Sam. Anybody else that I should know before we get there?"

"Well, yeah there's Sarah's best friend, (Y/N). Haven't seen her in a while, though." I rambled as I pulled up to the docks.

"So you have a crush on your sister's best friend? Pretty sure there's some type of rule against that." Bucky said as we got out the car.

"Woah now, who said anything about me having a crush on (Y/N)?" I asked as I got my tool box from the trunk.

"The way you talk about her suggests that you do. You saying that you don't?" Bucky asked as he followed me onto the boat. I shook my head, making my way towards the engine.

"You're seeing shit man. That's my little sister's best friend, why would I wanna be with her?"

"She could probably walk in here right now and you'd start grinning like the Cheshire Cat." Bucky said as he handed me a screwdriver.

"Are you gonna help me fix the boat or are you just gonna stand there and talk about what you think is going on in my love life?"

----

(Y/N)'s POV

Today's the day I guess. I thought as I hopped into my car. I texted Sarah that I was on my way and started the engine. During my drive, I let my thoughts run. Does he still look the same? Does he even remember me? Probably not. Whenever I saw him coming I'd run the other way. He probably thinks I'm a weirdo, and doesn't see me beyond his sister's best friend.

I shouldn't even be worrying about this. I sighed, stopping the car in front of the Wilson's house. I took a moment to compose myself before grabbing my phone and getting out of the car. I grabbed the pot of greens out the passenger seat and walked up the porch, knocking on the door. The door opened to reveal Sam standing there in a black turtleneck. Well fuck me.

"Hey (Y/N), it's good to see you!" Sam said as he pulled me into a hug. He smelled like a fresh baked batch of snickerdoodles, with extra sugar and cinnamon. I could get used to this. I gave him a smile once he pulled away.

"It's good to see you too, Sam! Man, you've gotten taller." I joked as I looked up at him.

"That, and you've always been on the shorter side. Here, let me take that for you." He said as he reached for the pot of greens. I said a small thank you and followed him into the house. "Sarah, (Y/N) is here!" He yelled up the stairs.

Sarah came into the kitchen, followed by a tall buff guy in a navy blue long sleeved shirt. "What's with everyone wearing long sleeves today? Y'all are aware that we're in Louisiana during the middle of the summer, right?" I said as I pointed between the two of them.

"Just got back from the mountains, still a little cold. The name's Bucky, by the way. It's nice to meet you." He introduced himself as he held his hand out for me to shake. I did and smiled at him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm (Y/N). So, how long are you staying?"

"Just a few days, I gotta get back to New York." He explained as he leaned against the counter.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. I gotta take the boys to the library to work on a school project, but I'll see y'all later." I waved goodbye, taking one more glance at Sam - maybe for a bit too long - before helping the boys into my car.

----

Sam's POV

I watched as (Y/N) left with the boys. Damn it, I should've said something. "So that's (Y/N)? I see why you like her, Sam." Bucky said once the door was shut and locked.

"Damn Sam, even Bucky can tell you're head over heels for her. You been gushing about her to everyone you come across?" Sarah said as she chopped up some vegetables.

"So y'all both ganging up on me now? That's cold."

"Nah, what's cold is you holding onto your feelings for almost 20 years now. Even after I told you at prom that she had feelings for you." Sarah said as she waved the knife around.

"First of all, stop swinging that knife around before you poke somebody eye out. Second of all, how was I supposed to know that you were telling the truth? Especially when she gets with some guy the next week?"

"So you believed that she really liked Michael after how much she used to trash talk him?"

"I don't know Sam, you seem to be the idiot in this situation. Although I'm sure that's a role you're used to fulfilling." Bucky said as he stole a carrot.

"First of all fuck you," I said as I pointed at Bucky. "And second of all, yeah maybe I was an idiot for not realizing that they were a fishy couple, but what's the point in saying something now? Like you said it's been years, and I highly doubt that she still has feelings for me. So we should just drop it. Alright?" I looked between the two of them. Sarah was looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world while Bucky just seemed amused by the whole situation.

"Sam, did you not see the way she was looking at you? She might as well have ran across the room and kissed you right then and there." Sarah explained as she turned her full attention towards me.

"Y'all are seeing shit. Can we just drop it? Please?" They both agreed to leave it alone, moving on to their own things. There's no way she could still have feelings for me. Right? Yeah, that's crazy.

----

C'mon, how can you get lost getting to the docks that are only 10 minutes away. I checked my watch again, groaning in frustration. Bucky said that he'd be here at 2:30, but it was nearing 3:15 and I was growing impatient. "Bucky Barnes, I'm gonna beat your ass the next time I see you." I mumbled as I looked around the docks.

"Sam?" Someone called from behind me. I turned around to see (Y/N) walking towards me.

"Oh, hey. What are you doing here?"

"Sarah texted me and said that she wanted me to help her with something. Are you down here to fix the boat?"

"Yeah. Bucky is supposed to be helping me, but he's almost an hour late."

"Sarah told me that he was watching the boys while we were working here." (Y/N) said as she looked at me. That's weird, why would they tell us to meet here if - oh God. "They told us to meet here because they want us to talk to each other. Dammit Sarah."

"Talk to each other? About what?"

----

(Y/N)'s POV

"About what?" Sam asked. If Sarah would've told me what she was planning I'd be a bit more prepared for this situation. Or run away. Yeah, I'd probably run away.

"About us, I guess."

"What about us?" He seemed to be confused, and that was honestly making it worse. How am I supposed to tell my best friend's brother that I've been in love with him since we were in high school? I sat down on a bench for a moment before speaking up.

"Look, I'm just gonna be honest with you," I started out. He nodded, signaling for me to continue and crossed his arms. His muscles just keep getting bigger and bigger. "I like you. I've liked you since we were in high school. Honestly, I'm not sure if this counts as just a crush anymore because I'm probably in love with you. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but Sarah keeps telling me that I should tell you. So I'm doing that now."

It was silent for a moment before Sam let out a chuckle. Then another, and another until he was full on laughing. Was me liking him that funny? "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at myself. Man, can't believe Sarah and Bucky were right."

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit confused here. Right about what?"

"About me being an idiot for not realizing that you like me back." Sam said as he sat beside me. It took me a moment to process what he was saying.

"Wait, you like me too?" I asked softly. Sam smiled, giving me a nod.

"Yeah, I do. Like a lot." Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

"Wow, we're such idiots. We liked each other this whole time, but we were too stubborn to admit it." I giggled out.

"And we only admitted it to each other because Sarah and Bucky made us. Don't know how I feel about that."

"Well, let's just be glad. Then we can go beat their asses for tricking us."

----

"Where are the boys?" Sam asked as we walked inside the house.

"They went to go play with Ms. Sherlly's grandkids. What's going on here?" Sarah asked as she motioned at me and Sam's joint hands.

"We told each other about our feelings. Y'all ain't have to trick us into going to the docks to get us to confess though." I said as I looked between Sarah and Bucky.

"Well you two obviously weren't going to get to it yourselves. So we took matters into our own hands." Bucky said as he sipped on a beer.

"We're gonna get y'all back for this. Just wait." Sam said.

"I'm shaking in my boots." Sarah said as she patted Sam on the shoulder.

"Y'all gonna start treating me with some respect. I'm Captain America now." We all looked at Sam for a second before we busted out laughing.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 38

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Fluff and snowball fights. Forgiveness is a path and everyone's making their happy way down it. Friendly Steve slander. Hulk interaction!

"So, what now?" I asked, eyes still closed, not resisting the desire to remain under the covers, nested snugly into Stephen's side. On his other side, Tony snored away, sprawled like a starfish in what looked to be the first decent shut-eye he got in months. I could smell the coffee and omelettes from Tony's kitchen and the soft jazz music playing where Bruce was taking care of the breakfast.

It was an unambiguous decision to take it easy after the last battle. Bucky and Natasha had been ironing out the details from the interrogation after Stephen had un-possessed Cabre, Wanda and Loki were itching to get a minute with the mercenary on their own and Veddie, as I started calling my uncle and his symbiote after experiencing the incredibly immersive symbiosis with Venom, hovered nearby in case Cabre would make a good snack.

"What do you want to do?" Stephen's morning voice was, ahem, an experience. He put Corpse Husband to shame and I knew that it wasn't only me who got hot and bothered by it but Tony as well...

Speaking of Tony, I still had no idea where we stood. My engineer had been less than happy about my actions and I thought I blew it. He wasn't as warm and playful, and while I kept telling myself that it was just the exhaustion from weeks of stress and worry, I knew better.

"I don't know. I didn't think this far," I admitted, damn well knowing what I wanted. I wanted things to be like they were - clear, honest, easy. My mother's voice rang out clearly again. I was being childish. Of course I was.

"I'm sure Tony will have my head for this, but seeing as there's no stopping you, I'm sure Natasha and Barnes will be happy to train you," Stephen sighed, his breath warm in my hair.

I blanched, stiffening in his arms, confused. "Where did that come from?" My eyes finally opened to stare at his sleepy face.

His eyebrows rose. "You don't want to..?"

"Be a hero, like you? No," I shook my head, then snorted. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you I don't want to go to college just yet, maybe take a gap year. In fact, I want to avoid actual in-person classes as much as humanely possible. And I still don't have a clue what major exactly I want to pursue." I was being honest, prepared to be judged. In-between my three men, there were at least ten PhDs whilst I was only nearly done with the first step of my education.

"So what, it was a one-time deal? Let an alien parasite take over your body for a coupla' hours and then continue with your life?" Tony's scratchy voice startled me; apparently, he'd been awake and actively eavesdropping.

I wasn't prepared for this conversation, but then again, I'd never be. Might as well rip the bandaid off. "I'm not that flavour of stupid," I immediately retorted, heart beginning to pick up speed. My mouth was gonna get me in trouble. "I am not delusional, I know things aren't and won't be the same. I did what I did because there was no other option, I'm not sorry and I will do it again if the need arises. It's not what you want to hear but it's the truth." I paused, well aware that my speech was becoming quicker, I was well on my way to nervous rambling. "I'm not hero material, I won't go on a death march for a rando," Justifying my actions? No. I stopped myself again. "I am sorry for lying. I am sorry for hiding things. But I am not sorry for putting my own ass out there so we can get some fucking peace." I finally settled, fisting my pajama top under the blanket in an attempt to release some of the tension.

Twin sighs erupted from my men, as if their bodies synchronized in response to my stubborn nature. Stephen's hold tightened on me as Tony rolled over, sleepy eyes blinking from the space opposite of me on Stephen's chest. Tony's hand reached for my face, stroking the side of it wordlessly - he wasn't the most vocal about his feelings but his eyes said it all. Tony was sad, hurt, a little bit angry but mostly he was relieved. It was the way he moved - nearly no traces of the tension that had gathered on his face in the previous weeks.

"Natasha should still train you, some basic hand to hand and weapons training, in case someone has it out for any of us. SHIELD's security has holes, you're basically one of us now. Everyone and their mother saw Clint hauling you to the quinjet," Tony finally grumbled, admitting his defeat. Everyone knew that if it had been up to him, I wouldn't leave the tower without an armed escort at all times. Thankfully, Bruce was there to screw on Tony's bolts right each time he wanted to go overboard. They thought I wouldn't notice, but I did.

Stephen's free hand landed in Tony's hair, the sorcerer effectively calmed both of us down with his gentle, unobtrusive support. He was far more empathetic than he liked to show. "That seems like a smart idea," He rumbled as my eyes began to drift shut once again.

With each steady breath, my heartbeat slowed and the feelings of guilt and dread began to dissipate. Tony might not had forgiven me yet but I was on my way to inner peace once more. I remembered feeling exactly the same way before our relationship, when every time I took a step inside Tony's lab, I tensed inwardly, shielded my feelings from his eyes, too focused on the outcome I thought would be absolutely disastrous. I had always thought he'd laugh at me, and yet... Laying on Steph's chest, inches away from Tony, my past panic seemed ridiculous.

"What's so funny?" Stephen asked, amused.

I didn't even notice the snort that managed to escape me. "Nothing," I answered immediately, feeling my face heat up. Oh my Loki, what kind of an idiot I had been...

"Sure," Tony's finger poked my cheek without preamble. "Staging a world domination plan, aren't we?" He snarked, much more like his usual self.

"I was just remembering when I was so terrified you'd find out I have a crush on you and you'd laugh at me," I mumbled, willing to placate Tony to avoid any more unnecessary lies and deceit.

Tony, did, in fact, laugh at my confession, but so did Stephen and I am pretty sure I heard Bruce snort from the direction of the archway leading into the spacious bedroom. The bed dipped as the scientist sat down, running a palm over my leg.

"I was pretty sure you would laugh at me," He admitted just as quietly and bashfully. Stephen and Tony only laughed harder. I heard the sound of a pillow hitting Steph in the face. "Let's go, Princess, let's leave the mean geezers alone. I made breakfast."

I could practically hear the pout in Bruce's voice and couldn't resist to comply, leaving a grumbling Tony to stretch and roll out of bed like a disgruntled cat.

"You're older than me, Bruce," Stephen rolled his eyes, I could feel his stare linger on my exposed thighs before Bruce picked me up. My sorcerer boyfriend switched to staring at Tony's bare back, which was an action I wholeheartedly supported.

"Cocky bastards," I stuck out my tongue a moment before we turned the corner and then all I could focus on was the feast of gods Bruce had made for us. The man was really too sweet and too kind, he never ceased to make me mushy and stuff. I stole a kiss, and then another one, and another one, until Tony's whining about the toast burning interrupted our moment.

The bread was fine. Tony was just being himself.

Our phones beeped at the same time - mine being already in my hand, as all normal young people did in the mornings - I looked at the message expecting another assemble and feeling my eyebrows crawl up at Steve's suggestion we all get some fresh air that day.

It had snowed. The whole city was covered in white, crisp snow, and Bucky has been liking nothing but other people's snowman pictures for several days. I suspected the brunette had convinced his boyfriend to take him out to build one or something, but as Steve was known to be exceptionally dense at times, Cap'n Jolly had unanimously decided it was a team bonding-slash-relaxing opportunity.

I relayed my thoughts to my own boyfriends, all of us giggling at Steve's eagerness to cater to his boyfriend and his cluelessness when it came to all things romantic. I was tempted to shoot Steve a text explaining his epic gamer moment but before I could even open the app, Bruce's eyes turned green briefly as he had a very obvious internal conversation with Hulk.

"Is that offer to spend time with Hulk still up?" The scientist asked timidly.

I had a lightbulb moment. "Absolutely!" I replied, watching my other two boyfriends. They didn't even bat an eye, evidently at peace with the green situation. "As long as the snowball fight is had with Thor, Steve or other enhanced individuals." Personally, I had no desire to be flipped over by a snowball the size of a watermelon. Or get any of the pretty but cold stuff under my clothes.

Bruce's responding grin was mostly Hulk.

It was a couple of days before Christmas. I was never one much for the holiday season, but something magical had seeped into me - it wasn't the shiny lights throughout the tower, it wasn't Clint's ugly Christmas sweater and the smell of gingerbread cookies and cinnamon that came from Wanda's apartment. I had no clue what it was, but it seemed to be tied to my boyfriends and Loki and many others who lived in the tower.

Bruce was all but wiggling during the car ride to the park - rationally, I knew it was the Hulk being excited but I still couldn't take my eyes off the usually reserved man. Bruce was happy. It made me smile and hold his hand like we were middle-schoolers in love. The rest of the team pretended to not notice it, or maybe they didn't care, or maybe they had already gotten used to my unconventional relationship.

Either way, Bucky had whisked Steve away almost immediately and I did what every kid ever had dreamed of. As Bruce went to a more secluded space to transform into the Hulk and Tony went to retrieve his thermos of coffee, I ushered Sam over to Steve's car and unlocked it, retrieving his shield from the trunk. It was heavier than it looked but did it stop me and Sam from running up the nearest hill and fighting over who gets to go first?

No, it did not. In mere moments, my ass was being frozen to the metal despite my snowsuit as I parked it inside the shield , holding onto the straps as Sam pushed on my back, hollering "Yeet!" at the top of his lungs, sending me in a steep slide towards where Thor was enthusiastically explaining something to the rest of the team.

"Oh shiiiiit!" I screamed, unprepared for the sudden increase in speed and the surprisingly good gliding abilities Captain America's shield possessed. "Watch o-o-out!" I yelled as the group scattered at the last moment. I heard some strong Russian words coming from Natasha, paired with snorts of badly concealed laughter.

The tree line grew closer by the second but the shield had no plans of stopping any time soon. Whoda thunk that things made of vibranium had all the characteristics to be the perfect sled? Something green entered my field of vision, stopping my crazy train with a grunt.

I answered with an oof of my own. One green palm was securely wrapped around me and the other held Steve's shield. "Hello," Hulk snorted, lifting me up like I was but a feather and setting me on his shoulder. "Puny Princess, don't hurt yourself," He stated firmly as I looked down at him, intrigued by the sudden change in his speech patterns. He sounded almost human.

"Hey, Big Guy," I ruffled his hair. "Aren't you cold?"

"No," He replied, setting me onto his shoulder. Hulk appeared to be completely unaffected by the December cold in his purple shorts. I felt my rear end begin to thaw, such was the heat that he emanated from his body. Meanwhile, Hulk caught Steve's eye, preparing to hurl the shield back to the frowning Captain.

Steve caught it effortlessly while Bucky ignored the interaction whatsoever, caught up in rolling an obscenely large ball of snow a ways from the group, tongue all but hanging out in concentration. I caught myself thinking he was gonna build a snow dick instead of a man and it made me feel...

"Wanna build a snowman?" I asked my green companion, rubbing my mittens in excitement.

The Hulk pondered for a brief moment, adopting that mischievous gleem, eyes shooting to Tony and Stephen who stood regally on the side of the clearing, sipping their hot beverages like the adult men that they were supposed to be. I snorted and Hulk echoed the sound, taking quick strides to a patch of land opposite Bucky. "No," Hulk shook his head. "We build a fort. Then smash," The green bean was all but vibrating in excitement.

Realistically, I knew I was gonna get snow stuck in uncomfortable places and might even get knocked over by an overeager person with super strength. But was I gonna pass up an opportunity to show off my superior construction skills? Hell naw.

It wasn't long before Stephen and Tony wandered off to us and began to pile up snow with a resigned huff, unsuccessful in their attempts to rebuff me ordering them around. In the end, we split in three teams, snow flew everywhere and by the time the battle was in peak heat, all of us were cold, wet and red-faced.

"To the death! BLOOD AND VINEGAR!!!" I screeched, hopping up and down after a series of small rapid snowballs I threw hit their target - Steve had a face full of snow and Bucky wasn't faring much better next to him, having had let a few of them hit him in the chest because he was distracted, doubling over in laughter at Steve's indignant, red face.

"You're bloodthirsty," Tony smirked from my side, dumping a fresh batch of ammo between me and Stephen. "It's hot."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins

[billyhardgrove]

4 and 76 w/ billy ?

4: “I’m too sober for this.”

76: “Please put your penis away.”

Enjoy xx (Also thanks for over 1000 followers!!)

It all started with the keg stand, then the beer pong, then the body shots, then the keg stand again, and again, and again. Billy was fucking drunk. No, scratch that. Billy was fucking smashed, hammered, well-and-truly-fucked. And just the thought of being the one responsible for him tonight almost led you to the half full tequila bottle tempting you to drink in order to make the process easier. But you couldn’t really afford both of you being wasted that night.

“Billy, c’mon, we’ve gotta go.” You tugged on his arm trying to get his attention. He was in the middle of sticking his tongue down some girl’s throat and you really didn’t want to interrupt, but you knew that if you didn’t interrupt now then that would lead Billy to take the girl upstairs and you wouldn’t be able to leave the party for another hour.

Pulling back from the girl, he glared at you and how you were cockblocking him. “Just gimme twenty more minutes.” He told you, smirking back to the girl suggestively before making the move of leaning in again, but you stopped him.

“No, Billy, let’s go now.” You insisted, pulling him away from the girl again. You were doing this for his sake anyway. “It’s late and you were supposed to be home over two hours ago. Your dad will have your neck if you’re late again-“

“Fuck my dad.” He slurred, partially rolling his eyes but you couldn’t be sure because he was so drunk. Once again returning his attention to the girl, you weren’t going to let him make this worse. So you did what you had to do.

Grabbing a hold of his ear as if he were a child, you tugged him away finally, leading him through the house and toward the front door.

“Ok, ok, ok.” Billy whined, stumbling as he tried to keep up with you. “I can walk on my fucking own.” He grunted as you released his ear and tried to hold him upright. “That really fucking hurt.” He added, rubbing childishly at his ear while giving you a death glare but you merely rolled your eyes at him.

The pair of you walked over to where his Camaro was parked, Billy tripping over air a couple of times in that distance, before you opened the passenger side for him. He just stared at you as if you had two heads.

“Gimme your keys.” You told him, holding your hand out for them.

“What?” He snorted in disbelief. “I’m not giving you my fucking keys, I can drive myself.”

“Billy, you can’t even see how many fingers I’m holding up right now never mind drive.” You scolded him, while lifting up your middle finger to him as he squinted at your hand.

“Yes, I can. Uh, twenty-seven?” He asked before clocking on to what he said and giggling giddily at his own words.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips as he grinned to the ground at himself. You couldn’t lie, drunk Billy – especially this drunk Billy – was your favourite to be around. All child-like and happy, you didn’t mind it. It was when he decided to be an aggressive, violent drunk that he was a pain to handle, especially when he decided to start a fight with anyone that walked in front of him.

Here was the thing; Billy and you were friends, just friends. You never dated, never kissed, never slept together, much to the whole school’s surprise. Everyone was certain you guys just fucked when you hung out when really you did everything but. Your relationship just wasn’t like that (no matter how much you perhaps wanted it to be different). Billy enjoyed making his way through the girls of Hawkins and you just watched idly from the side lines at how every girl acted the exact same way around him; giggly, desperate and overly-seductive. And each one always grew angry when Billy would end it after they fucked because they truly thought they were the one to ‘change’ bad-boy Billy. You couldn’t lie, you did feel bad for most of them but sometimes it was satisfying to see some of the bitchiest and nastiest girls grow annoyed at him for treating them the same as every other girl. But never were you treated like that. No, you were the only exception.

Walking towards the boy, you hoked around in his jeans pockets trying to retrieve his car keys.

“Oh, y/n, I didn’t think you felt that way about me.” He taunted, poking fun at how close your hands were to his junk even though you were just reaching into his pocket.

“Oh, good God – I’m too sober for this.” You groaned, finally finding the goddamn keys before helping Billy into the passenger seat. Aiding him in putting on his seat belt, you quickly made your way to the driver’s side, trying to make this trip back to Billy’s as quick and easy as possible.

“Don’t you dare fucking crash my car.” Billy slurred, drunkenly pointing his finger to you.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The drive back was bearable. Billy mostly stayed in his seat, sometimes air-guitaring to a song that wasn’t even playing and sometimes just drumming his hands on the dashboard. You would have to say it was probably one of the fewer tolerable rides you’d had with the drunk boy.

Finally pulling into his driveway, you switched off the car engine before glancing to the house where it didn’t appear to have any lights on. You took that as a good sign at least for that would mean you wouldn’t have to encounter a furious Neil. You couldn’t begin to imagine what he would be like to Billy if he caught him stumbling through the house way later than they had agreed and fucked up beyond all repair. You would’ve hoped that you being there would’ve tamed the man, but part of you wouldn’t put it past Neil Hargrove to let all fury rip at Billy, even with an audience. But thank God, it looked like you wouldn’t have to worry about that tonight.

Helping Billy out of the car, you practically carried the guy through the front door as quietly as possible. Dragging him through the hallway, you made it to his bedroom, closing the door ever so gently after you. Finally, you were in the clear.

Dropping the him face first onto his bed, Billy groaned at you. “M’ jerms.”

“Huh?” You questioned, not understanding as his words were muffled against his mattress.

Lifting his head ever so slightly, he repeated. “My jeans.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. Was he really too drunk to pull off his own jeans?

“My jeans.” He repeated once more.

Sighing at him, you groaned. “Fine.”

You tugged the boy to sit upright to make it easier for you before finally you helped Billy remove his jeans as well as his t shirt. Lord knew they would be uncomfortable to sleep in, especially since his jeans were so tight.

But it was just as your back was to the boy as you folded up his jeans and placed them on his desk that he had a surprise waiting for you when you turned back around.

“Oh Jesus, Billy. Please put your penis away.” You gasped, holding your hands up in front of you face to block the sight you weren’t prepared for.

“But I sleep naked.” He whined, his boxer briefs stopped at his knees and you half expected him to stomp his foot in defiance.

“Well, I think just for tonight you can make an exception.” You told him before he finally decided to pull his underwear back up. Turning to climb back into his bed, you told him you would be back in a second before wandering to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water and some aspirin. You hoped he had the worst hangover in the morning, especially after putting you through all this.

Walking back into his bedroom, you left the glass and tablets on his bedside cabinet before sitting yourself on the edge of his bed. Billy’s eyes were closed, his hair was in disarray upon his head and his mouth was slightly parted as he breathed deeply.

Reaching to brush a bit of his hair out of his face, you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked. Nine times out of ten, Billy’s face held a stiff frown or a knowing smirk, but right now he looked perfectly at peace. It was refreshing to see.

Pulling back your hand, you made the motion to get up from your bed, about to leave when Billy grumbled. “’ love you, y/n.”

You weren’t sure if he was awake, if he knew what he was saying, if he meant what he was saying, if it was meant in a platonic way, and perhaps that’s why you thought your heart had stopped altogether. You and Billy never told each other that you loved each other. It just wasn’t something you did.

“I mean it.” Billy then spoke again, one of his eyes peeking open to look at you. “I really just think that you’re the best girl in the world and that you’re too good to be my friend but I’m grateful that you are and I honestly think I’m going to marry you someday because you’re the only person that tolerates my bullshit and actually cares about me and I care about you a lot and you make living in this place ok and I just don’t want to ever lose you.” He rambled drunkenly and it was very clear that he wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying.

“Alright Billy.” You grinned down at him, giggling softly at how much word vomit just came out of his mouth there. You gently rubbed your hand up and down his arm, taking his words with a pinch of salt.

“You’re laughing but I really think I am going to marry you.” He spoke, and there seemed to be an annoyed tone to his words and how you didn’t take him seriously, even though you could hardly take it as truth. “Will you marry me, y/n?” He asked innocently, his eyes now closed again as he rested but you could tell he was still awaiting your response.

“I uh…” You stared at the boy, a little baffled at the whole ridiculous conversation you were having. “Sure, Billy. I’ll marry you someday.” You told him, mainly just to shut him up and keep him satisfied more than anything, but maybe a part of you grew excited at the thought of you and Billy being something more than friends. But the realistic part of you knew that this was all just the alcohol spitting nonsense and that the blonde boy wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

And sure enough, when you teasingly brought it up to him the next day, prepared to mock him about it until the new year, he said he didn’t remember it. “I just remember that brunette at the party that you stopped me from fucking, anything after that is just a blur.” He had said. You couldn’t lie, you were a little disappointed but you surely expected it. It was silly to think he’d remember, especially with the amount he had to drink.

But little did you know, Billy was lying; he remembered everything from that night, and he still – even sober – thought it to be true.

[ironmansuuucks]

Orange Kisses

🧡🧡 dewey finn x reader 🧡🧡

hey guys! me and @thewolfisapartofmysoul​ have created this special dewey finn x reader piece for you all as a sequel to “are you lost” which I will link below! It’s is essentially Dewey and readers first date in a beautiful autumn setting. walking through the woods and just general fluff and cuteness! We really love this one with all our hearts and we hope you love it just as much<3🧡

dewey finn x fem!reader

ARE YOU LOST? (PART 1)

words: 4000

warnings: just fluff i think! 

again, the most beautiful aesthetic by the talented and amazing @thewolfisapartofmysoul​

Gus ran towards the door for the 4th time that morning, barking and wagging his tail happily. He was just as anxious for the upcoming date as you were. "I know bud'... go get your ball! We can’t leave without your favourite ball now, can we?!" Gus just found his favourite squeaky ball and came waggling your way, howling happily to celebrate finding his toy.

You ran a hand through your hair and checked your appearance one more time in the mirror. You felt a bit anxious about your date with Dewey, but the joy by far outweighed the worry. Just before you could get lost in your thoughts, you heard the sound of a claxon at your front door. Your phone buzzed and you picked it up and put it on speaker, being greeted by the cheerful deep voice of Dewey. "Your carriage awaits mylady... Tell Gus I said hi."

Gus barked back at the phone, hearing his name. You giggled "My little prince and I’ll be outside in a sec. Gotta get my shoes." You told him, walking towards the hallway to get your nice sneakers. "Erhmm... yeah... dear...?" Dewey’s voice croaked at the other side of the phone. Doubt seeping through his voice. You worried a second, scared he had changed his mind suddenly. Dewey continued: "...Yeah... take some cozy socks and some old boots with you. It can be muddy in the woods. And the cozy socks might me chill for the ride... is that cool with you, love?"

Gus barked again and Dewey chucked through the phone. "Well... I guess Gus is totally cool with it..." You laughed. "I'll hang up now but I'll be there in a minute Dew..."

Dewey hummed through the phone: "That’s okay... already counting the seconds..." You chuckled, said bye to Dewey and grabbed Gus's leash and headed out the door. The crispy autumn air and orange-yellow on the trees welcomed you as you closed the front door.

Dewey was already standing against the trunk if his van, arms crossed and humming soundly to himself. You chuckled. That man breathed music, you just knew it. His face lit up when he saw Gus running towards him happily. "Hey... little dude! Come here... what’s up with my furry compadre today?" He crouched down to pet your pupper.... "Hey... hey bro... tell your mom she's looking VERY pretty today, okay my dude?" He whispered to Gus while Dewey petted his head. His eyes shot up and he winked at you, his smirk growing on his face when he noticed your flushed face.

He got up and turned towards you. Dewey was now full on grinning at you. He licked his bottom lip before he spoke: "Good morning beautiful... me and your fur baby had a little talk, and we decided you look absolutely stunning today." You stepped towards him gingerly, eyeing the tiles in embarrassment and pecked his scruffy cheek, mumbling happily: "Morning Dew..." You couldn't suppress a tiny smile appearing on your lips at that compliment. He continued his complimenting: "You look even more beautiful when you smile dear..." he bounced up and down, patted the van for emphasis when he asked: "You ready for a little road-trip?"

You nodded yes and Gus barked excited when Dewey asked him: "...You wanna go for a ride too, dude?" Gus trailed his tail and spun happily, barking as he did so. "Let me translate that for you Dew... it’s a yes." you chuckled. Dewey’s eyes lit up and he cracked a smile your way. "Excuse me dear... my 'dogs' is a bit rusty..." He turned towards Gus... "I'll get better, I promise... okay little dude?" Gus barked and licked his hand in response.

You turned towards the passenger’s seat to open the door, but Dewey beat you to it. You chuckled... what a gentleman... You took a seat and called Gus in the car too, he happily took his spot between your legs on the floor of the passenger’s seat. You pulled up your feet and carefully put your boots behind the front seats of the car. You put on your cozy socks and sat cross legged in your seat. Relaxing a bit when Dewey entered the car and brought the engine to life.

Dewey cranked up the radio and the car was filled with soft rock-music. With 'sex on fire' playing on the background you two headed to the forest. Gus yawned and drifted off before the two of you left the street. You had been on the way for less than 2 minutes when Dewey asked you: "Want some coffee? I know this awesome place that has the best coffee in town. It’s gonna be a little while until we get to the woods... whatcha think?" You hummed happily "Yeah! I would love some coffee. Haven't had time yet this morning..."

Dewey grinned and stroked a hand through his messy brown locks: "Okay... hey.... do you want to do me a favour?" Your voice pitched a bit higher than usual when you replied: "Yeah... Sure..." insecurity kicking in and your mind racing what he could possibly need from you.

Dewey frowned a bit at your high pitched voice, shot you a quick look sideways, and you swallowed thickly. Trying to calm your nerves. Dewey reached out to put a hand on your knee reassuringly and mumbled: "Hey.... Hey beautiful.... are you nervous?" You nodded again, trying to explain yourself you rambled: "... erhm... yeah... I’m a tiny bit anxious... but it’s been a while since I had a... erhm... well... a date... so..."

Dewey brushed his thumb over your knee in a comforting gesture and squeezed your knee a bit. "No need to be nervous... it’s going to be fine. We're having fun already! Look at your fur-baby... he's relaxed too... see?"

You darted your eyes towards Gus and smiled a bit. He looked adorable when he slept. You nodded yes towards Dewey and he continued: "It’s gonna be fine. Trust me. Take one deep breath with me, and sigh out all those insecurities okay?" You both inhaled and breathed out deeply. Dewey brushed his thumb over your knee again, mumbling: "Better?"

You smiled a bit and replied: "Yeah... thank you Dew..."

Dewey chucked and patted your knee. His hand joined the one on the steering wheel again. You already missed the contact his hand had made and blushed a bit at the realisation. You were falling. Fast.

"Now... what I wanted to ask you..." Dewey continued "...do you think you can reach my backpack behind you?..." You reached behind were you were seated and pulled his backpack on your lap. "...Good...In the front zipper is a thermos..." You rummaged around until you found it. The thing had a guitar on it. 'Of course it has' you thought to yourself. "... Can you open it for me?... Cause... Driving and all that jazz." Dewey chuckled.

You unscrewed the lid and reached out to hand it to Dewey, but he grinned and winked at you: "There ya go, love... Best coffee in town. Dewey's Pumpkin-spiced-latte. Have a taste... You won't regret it." You snorted at his antics. What a dork. Curiously you took in the smell of pumpkin spice that came from the thermos. It smelled really good.

You took a tiny sip at it and Dewey laughed when you couldn't hold back a moan when you swallowed it. "Ughhhh. Dew! It’s so goooood!"

Dewey snickered: "See! I wasn't kidding when i said: best coffee in town." You sipped again and asked: "Is there... cinnamon in this? And... caramel?" Dewey smirked and mumbled teasingly: "Can't tell you the secret ingredient... but let me tell you that there is a lot of love in there... maybe that does the trick?"

Funny. Sweet. Best-pumpkin-spiced-coffee-maker-ever. How could this get any better? .......

Well, of all the skills that Dewey had up his sleeve… navigating was unfortunately not one of them.

 * * * * *

 Chilling in the car, singing your favourite songs, because you had the aux cord of course, and drinking that sweet, pumpkin spice caffeine really had you on a high. This was a feeling you forgot about. Dates were always daunting but this was so much fun. Dewey really knew how to make you laugh, and he was great with Gus.

You could admire the beautiful colours of the cold fall from the warmth of the van, your cosy socks were a great shout; thanks Dew. But as Dewey continued to drive, the oranges and yellows were fading into the grey of the city again. You furrowed your eyebrows as you passed another road sign.

“Hey Dew?”, he turned his head to you but kept his eyes on the road “Yeah hun?”. You looked round and faced him “are we going the right way?”

Dewey furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, scratching the back of his head “uh, yeah why?”. “well just because that sign says we are headed back to the city?”.

You grabbed the road map from the glove compartment, pulling it out and turning it everyway until it made some sort of sense to you. “wh-what does it say?” Dewey questioned.

You smirked as you read the map, “uh I think we were supposed to take a left 7 miles back”. Gus poked his head up and under the map, onto your lap. “I know buddy we’ll be there soon”, giving his head a scratch.

The blush on Dewey’s face was adorable. “y-yeah uh, I didn’t realise”. “that’s ok mad we can just follow the map and I’ll direct you if you want?”. Dewey looks at you and laughs lightly, then back at the road. “It was your fault you know”.

You look round at him, exaggerating your response. “MY fault?”. Dewey keeps his eyes fixed on the road, “yeah, we wouldn’t be lost if you hadn’t been distracting me with how cute you are”. You snorted, looking at the road, a slight blush forming on your cheeks “oh stop you”.

Turns out you didn’t exactly have the best navigation skills either. It took you two hours longer than it should have. You both got really lost about an hour ago when you were passing cities that neither of you could barely pronounce. After around half an hour of driving, you realised you were reading the map wrong. The different colour lines were mega confusing. In the end, Dewey had to stop the van and ask for directions because neither of you had great network coverage where you were. But finally you made it to the car park.

“you’re lucky I’m here” you quipped sarcastically while putting your boots back on. Dewey grunted, “and how’s that?”. You looked over at him, smirking “you would be lost without me”. This time he laughed “ok yeah coming from the one who got us MORE lost, am I right Gus?”.

 * * * * * *

 You gently woke Gus from his slumber when you approached the forest, scratching his ears to wake your pupper. You spoke happily to him: "Gussie-boy... we're almost at the woods!" His ears perked up at that familiar word and he bolted upright...

Dewey smiled fondly at your happy voice, found a parking spot and stopped the car.

Gus looked at you excited, and then rapidly turned his head towards Dew. His ears stood up in excitement and Dewey whispered to Gus in conspiracy: "Hey... hey dude... you wanna go to the woods with mom and me?" Gus wagged his tail happily, threw his head back and started to howl out of joy.

Dewey chuckled, turned his head towards you and grinned: "Guess that's a yes?" You snorted while you nodded your head and Dewey nudged your shoulder playfully: "You never told me the little dude could sing!" He turned his attention towards Gus again and smiled brightly at your pupper: "You are a true furry-Rockstar... we've gotta jam sometime soon, okay?" Gus responded by jumping on Dewey's lap with his front paws and licked his nose with a tiny 'woof'. You poked Gus on his head and sternly spoke: "Gus... where are your manners dude?... No jumping..."

Dewey chuckled light-heartedly and scoffed, he patted your knee and winked when your eyes found his. "It's okay dear... honestly... let the little dude be happy. It’s cool. Promise."

You relaxed at his words and Dewey gestured towards Gus to jump on his lap. You blinked once and Gus was seated comfortably against Dewey’s torso, his fluffy head relaxed on Dew's shoulder.

Dewey moved his ear closer to the wet nose of your doggo, mumbling softy to him: "Huh..? What’s that little dude? Yeah... I know... you tell her!"

Gus looked at you, happy as ever, and you couldn’t hold back a chuckle when Dewey stated in a British accent: "Well... mom... listen up... I DO like to sit in the car with you guys... buttttttt... can we go ouuuuuuuuut? I wanna ruuuuuuunnnn.... and chase ballllls and catch squirrels... and i want to sniff the woods mommmm... let’s go lets go lets goooooo!"

You rolled your eyes and spoke: "Yeah. Let’s go boys!"

Dewey cheered loudly and Gus barked when he threw himself out of the car and ran happily in front if you two, leading the way to the woods.

Dewey grabbed his backpack first, slung it over his shoulder and grabbed your hand after that.

With Gus leading the way, and Dewey holding your hand you walked into the forest. You took in the smell of the woods. The fall air was crispy and it smelled like rain, despite the fact that the sun shined through the orange leaves. It was quite windy, but not too cold to have a nice walk. You felt your nose was getting cold and was glad that Dewey decided to take hold of your hand. Not sure if the warm feeling of your hand was caused by his body heat, or the fondness that started to grow in the past few hours with him.

You bumped his elbow playfully and smiled: "Really Dew? Out of all the voices? You chose British?!" He beamed back at you and said bashfully: "Yeah... Gus seemed British... I mean... He's a prince after all...." Gus waggled back towards the two of you, holding a stick in his mouth proudly and Dewey voice-overed British-Gus perfectly: "Hey! Hey mom!! Hey mom's date!! De- Dow- Dobbey? Never mind... Hey look at my treasure!! It’s a magical stick!! Actually its not magical until you throw it..."

You eyed Dewey sideways, a smile ghosting your features and butterflies tingling in your stomach when you saw him bouncingly imitate Gus. Gosh he was adorable.

His red cheeks from the chilly air complimented his happy brown eyes, and the wind blew through his shining brown curls. This man radiated enthusiasm and joy, you just knew it. And.... he was so GOOD with Gus.

His British accent brought you back to the present: "... And no! You peasants cannot have my magical stick. I am the KING of all the sticks in this wood. BUT maybe if you trade it for a cookie i will think about it..."

Dewey chuckled softly and squeezed your hand a bit as you continued your walk. He looked at you and whispered: "See? Gus is very British indeed..." You laughed and agreed with Dewey. How could you not? When he threw a smile your way that was so bright, the sun herself would have been jealous of it...?

"I'm starting to wonder who you like more Dewey Finn.... me.... or Prince Gus?" you stated playfully.

Dewey snorted at your comment, and stopped his walking abruptly. You turned around to face him, blush on your cheeks when you looked in the adoring brown eyes of Dewey.

He smirked and brought your hand against his lips and he kissed it. You couldn't help but swallow at the sensation of his stubble brush against the back of your hand. He mumbled against your hand: "Well... obviously i have to become friends with the prince before i can woo the princess attached to him... you see?"

You smiled shyly at his happy face and felt Dewey pull you closer, his hand still holding yours as the other tugged on your waist. You were standing against his body and let out a heavy sigh. Your faces inches apart and you felt his warm breath against your warm skin when he mumbled: "And... how is the woo-ing going, dear?" You gazed in his brown eyes once more, swallowing deeply and you were about to answer when suddenly a noise startled you. "Well... pretty good if you ask m-"

-woof!-

Gus jumped happily up on you and Dewey, barking as he did so. He sat down at Dewey's feet and howled happily at him, wagging his tail when he eyed Dewey’s reaction. Dewey grinned towards Gus: "Rock on dude...."

Dewey laughed a bit, reached out to gently pet Gus on his head and mumbled to your doggo: "...Bad time for a jam-session prince-Gus..." Your butterflies flattered harder than before when you walked further into the forest.

Dewey was a good one... you thought, when his hand wrapped around yours again. It already felt like his hand belonged there, it just perfectly fit into yours.

 * * * * *

After a some time of walking through the woods, and allowing Gus to fetch sticks and listening to Dewey’s British impression of Gus, it was time to settle down. You headed back to Dewey’s van and found a little spot next to the lake to chill out.

“do you think we have enough firewood?” you questioned Dewey as he set the wood up in a pile around the rocks. “aw yeah this should be more than enough”. You sat down on the little log that was situated next to the fire pit. The day had been so dreamy and amazing. Dewey was this bright ball of giggling light and you were grateful that you had met him, thanks to Gus of course. You folded your arms over you lap and watched Dewey mess around with the fire. Gus came over and sat in between your knees as you gave him a good clap.

“I can’t believe you know how to start a camp fire”. Dewey briefly glances over at you and smirks “I’m not just a pretty face you know”. You raise an eyebrow smirking as he continues to fix the fire. “and I totally didn’t just google it ten minutes ago..” he adds quickly. You threw your head back in laughter “I knew it!”, you could hear Dewey chuckling to himself.

Suddenly the fire sparked to life and Dewey jumped back from it, tumbling back on to his ass. You giggle as Gus waggles enthusiastically over to him, giving him kisses and making a fuss over him. Dewey laughs off his embarrassment as he gives Gus a cuddle “you’ll always come and save me won’t you Gussy boy, no matter what”. Gus whines as he continues to give Dewey all the love. “yeah he’s been trained to save a damsel in distress” you joke. Dewey pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder “my saviour” as he gives Gus a kiss on the nose.

You chuckle and look back at the beautiful colours of the fire, blending well with the orange and yellow of the leaves and the sky. The sun had began to set so cast a beautiful golden glow over all the eye could see. It was tranquil, and shamelessly vermilion, unrivalled by any sunset you had ever laid your eyes on before. The way the sky reflected onto the water was captivating, and almost magic. The air was cool, and slightly nippy. A beautiful contrast to the warm colours that surrounded you.

You shivered slightly as Dewey joined you on the log. He brushed up against you and you swear you felt butterflies. You looked down and rubbed your hands together trying to get heat from the fire. “hey you’re shivering” Dewey notices. You shake your head “nah I’m fine” you lie. It was freezing. “here…” Dewey starts to take off his scarf, and he places it around your neck, cosying you up. You giggle as he wraps it around you “that should help keep you warm”.

You smile up at him, noticing how beautiful he was in the golden hour glow. The way the sun lit up his doughy brown eyes, was dreamy, and the way it glistened through his hair made you weak. “Thanks Dew” you grin. He looks down then back up at you “I’m glad I could be of service m’lady”, you giggle and look down at the fire.

The heat the fire gave off was comforting. Not too hot, just the right mix with the coolness of air, and the heat you were getting off of Dewey sitting next to you. Gus had situated himself at the side of Dewey, laying himself at his feet, also enjoying the heat of the flames. Dewey bent down and give him a few claps on the head, praising him for being so good.

You looked down at how gentle and caring he was with Gus, then up at him. You nudged him playfully to get his attention “hey, thank you for the best day” you smiled kindly at him. He looked down at you softly “I’m glad you considered it the best day. It was the best day for me too.. but mostly because you were here” he said bashfully. You blushed and look down quickly, before looking back up at his beautiful, glistening eyes.

He looked back into your eyes, a goofy smile on his face. You looked back at the scenery in front of you. “It’s such a beautiful night”. Dewey turned his head and also looked out at the water and the reflection is cast from the sky, then turned his head back to you. He would never say it, it was too soon, but he thought about how beautiful you were. How he felt so lucky to be here with you.

The crackling fire was a burst of warmth in the moment. You could feel Dewey’s eyes on you, and you felt nervous, but an excited kinda nervous. You looked back up at him, then down at his lips, finally back up to his eyes. He licked his bottom lip before leaning in ever so lightly, seeking your approval. You smiled and met him half way, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you rested your bottom lip on his top.

It was only a light kiss at first. Your lips simply brushed his, soft, and delicately, and just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your skin, before parting. You opened your eyes gently as you pulled the slightest bit apart, admiring how his were still shut, and relishing in the moment. Then he was suddenly looking at you, his cheeks dusted in a light pink shade, definitely not from the cold this time. You smiled at how cute he looked. He hummed, already hooked to everything that was you “that- that was… can we do that again?”. His heart was racing.

You chuckled every so lightly but nodded, moving your head to meet him again. Your heart skipped a beat, the smell of Dewey was hypnotic and addictive. His fingers moved to your face, running them from your jaw to lightly tangling in your hair. You moaned into his touch quietly, desperately. Your lips moved rhythmically with his, as if scripted. It was burning, yet sweet, and gentle, yet delicious.

As far as first kisses go, it was unrivalled.

Dewey pulled you into him as he deepened the kiss, his hands snaking around your waist, inviting you into him. You threw your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his soft curls, the ones you’ve been thinking about since you first met him.

Suddenly though, he pulled away from you softly. His eyes sparkling and wide. He was grinning, but nervously. His hands rubbed your sides softly. “hey”, he said lowly, a slight hint of excitement creeping out. You furrowed your eyebrows “what?”.

“I have a surprise for you”...

tags: @little-miss-shy-goth​ @paxenera​ @heknowshisherbs​ @missihart23​ @geminiacally​ @go-commander-kim​ @gegehaddock​ @baby-beej​ @sadpuppetshows​ @hoodoo12​ @large-unit​ @thats-specific​ @vicunaburger​ @stranger-strings​ @bugdrinkss​

[jabbajambler]

3

Powerless

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,019

*GIF by @monicarmbeau​*

        "So. What've you been up to?" I asked, fiddling with my thumbs from my seat. Din didn't answer me. I didn't really expect him too, but he seemed so friendly just a few minutes ago. I guess that was just to get me on board this crazy plan. "What about you?" I smiled and turned to the child. He cooed, a much more friendly response than someone.

         Tatooine was already in sight, which I was incredibly thankful for. This entire flight felt like torture. Din wouldn't say a word except for the quick debriefing and the kid, as adorable as he is, isn't much of a conversationalist. The trip consisted largely of me looking out the window and hoping this would all be over soon. I was expecting a much larger hoorah when we finally met again, but I guess this works too.

         I mean, we were friends before everything else happened. I thought we would just fall back into that rhythm again. Boy, was I wrong. There was nothing familiar about this, not even a petty remark or joke. This was the galaxy's worst silent treatment.

         Din carefully approached the planet and landed the ship in Peli's hangar. Man, I missed that crazy old woman. He seemed to linger in his seat for a moment and if my ears were correct, I could hear him take a long, deep breath.

         "Stay here. It'll only be a second." He finally spoke.

         I sighed and leaned back in my seat, picking at the pieces of cracked red leather. "Fine."

           Din rushed out of the ship like he couldn't spend another moment in the small cockpit. I don't think I'd ever seen him move so fast. He took his time with everything, walking down the streets as though every planet was his own runway. Yet he jumped at the chance to get away from me.

         There was a small poke against my shin, followed by a little babble. I looked down to find the child staring up at me with his enormous brown eyes. His hands were held high in the air, just like any little kid wanting to be picked up.

         I scooped him up and cradled him in my arms, unable to keep a frown on my face when he was patting my cheek with his tiny hand. "Din's changed, hasn't he?" I sighed and rubbed his small head. "I figured. I screwed up, I do that sometimes. I'm going to fix it though, I promise."

         He giggled and grabbed my nose, squeezing it lightly. I laughed and pulled his hand away from my face, holding it in my own. It was so small in comparison, so helpless despite knowing the feats he can accomplish.

         "I missed you. Both of you, but you the most," I whispered. "Don't tell Din, though. It'll hurt his feelings. Not that he'll ever admit that, but I know." I winked and wiggled my fingers, pulling his ears over his eyes through the Force. He seemed to enjoy our little game, laughing and trying to grab his ears to keep them away.

         "Okay, uh..." Din's voice echoed through the ship. "Put your egg-things there and climb up the ladder."

         I snickered to myself and rocked the child slowly in my arms. A frog lady emerged from the arch, croaking at me in what I assumed was a friendly greeting. I offered her a smile and nod while I shifted the child into my right arm. It was a bit of a struggle climbing down the ladder with one arm, but I've managed with worse.

         The ramp squeaked as it rose and clicked in place with the rest of the ship. Din stood, his back facing me while he watched it. His silhouette was powerful, armed and unknown to most. The expanse of his shoulders was broad, which I accredited that to the armor, but who knows. His stance alone could've scared off any quarry, so confident and ready for whatever they could possibly throw at him.

         I didn't even realize I was admiring him until it was too late.

         "What are you staring at?"

         I blinked and found him looking back at me. I swore I never even saw him move. "Nothing," I lied and set the child down on the ground once he started to squirm. "I was just going to see if I could wave to Peli before we lifted off, but I guess it's too late."

         "She mentioned you earlier. I think she likes you."

         I smiled and watched Din shift on his feet. "Is that so hard to believe?"

         "Not at all," he hummed and looked back towards the ladder with a subtle nod. "Are you climbing back up or staying down here?"

         I could feel my stomach dip at his words, trying to form an apology or something, but I couldn't speak without making a fool of myself. "I'll head up, yeah." I mumbled and swiftly climbed back into the cockpit with Din not too far behind. It felt so forced to talk to him, I hated it.

         Din maneuvered his way into the pilots seat and pulled the ship off the ground. Getting into the sky was the easy part, getting to Trask would be much more difficult with our circumstances.

         "Now, I'm gonna ask you to stay strapped in whenever you're seated." Din said as he poked at the control panel. "Traveling sublight is a bit dicey these days. Whether it's pirates or warlords, someone either ends up with a nice chunk of change or your ship."

         I scoffed at his pessimism while the frog lady pulled her seat belt on and croaked. I could only assume she agreed with me.

         "I don't speak whatever language that is. You speak Huttese?" He asked and rambled on in the language.

         "It'll be fine. We can just ask yes or no questions." He sighed and turned away from both of us, staring back out at the sky. "Or we can just stay silent the entire ride, again." Receiving no response, I looked to the frog lady who was busying herself by looking out the window. "So, your husband is on Trask?" She nodded. "That's cool. I've never been there, it's always nice to explore other parts of the Outer Rim."

         "So, I'm gonna hit the rack. I've set the nav for our course. It's gonna take a while, I recommend you both get some rest." Din stood in a hurry and descended down the ladder, leaving the frog lady and I alone in the cockpit. I suppose now was as good of a time as any to get some shut eye.

         I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest while leaning back in my seat. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but it would do for a few hours. At least, if no one caught up to us.

         My eyes fell shut with ease and I could feel myself lulled into a subconscious state. For a while, there was nothing but darkness, as one usually experiences in sleep, but then there was something else.

         I saw a flash of silver metal hitting an orange blade, one a bit too similar to my own. In the metal was a reflection of something red, mixed with orange and yellow tones to create something terrifying. It was a combination of all the worst things I'd ever seen, but in a way, it was beautiful. There was something powerful about the scene displayed before me and I wanted to know more.

         I tried to reach for it, whatever it might have been. It was strong, enticing, and maybe just what Aaryn and Obi Wan were telling me to search for. How could something so magnificent possibly be bad?

         Before I could reach any further, an alarm blared through the cockpit and awoke me from whatever vision I was seeing. Din slid in the room with the doors hissing behind him as he sat down, tapping at the incoming radio message. So much for getting some rest.

         "Razor Crest, M-One Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?" The static voice emitted from the transmitter.

         "This is Razor Crest." Din spoke calmly, "is there a problem?"

         I snickered from my seat, "you got caught by the cops." I said as they responded.

         "Yes, I'm pre-Empire surplus." Din answered while casting me a subtle look, his silent way of telling me to be quiet. "I'm not required to run a beacon."

         "That was before." I think I could hear the roll of their eyes in their voice. "This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon."

         Din sighed, "thank you for letting me know. I'll get right on it."

         "Not a problem. Safe travels."

        "Uh," he paused, "may the Force be with you."

         I mouthed the words with a teasing smile as the X-Wing pilot spoke the phrase, "and also with you." Maker, it sounded like a cultish response. "Just one more thing." They continued.

         "Yes?" Din's tone was gradually growing more frustrated.

         The two continued on about transmitters as Din hopelessly failed at avoiding it. Honestly, I thought we would've gotten away just fine, but then the two pilots switched channels and soon expanded the wings of their ships.

         "Was your craft in the proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport, Bothan-Five?"

         Din continued to stare out the window, his grip on the controls tightening with their words. "Hang on." He mumbled under his breath before lurching the ship forward towards the closest planet, bringing a scream out of the frog lady's chest.

         I grasped the arms of my chair as tightly as I could, regretting that I hadn't buckled-in earlier. We moved quickly through the clouds as the pilots urged us to "stand down," but we kept flying chaotically through the sky.

         "Hey, uh.. Mando?" I shouted as I struggled to keep my hold on the seat. "Are you open to suggestions right now? Because maybe-"

         He thrusted the ship downwards again while I frantically pulled my seatbelt over me to keep me at least somewhat in place. I was able to snap it shut just before we went hurling towards the ground.

           The frog lady started to scream, which didn't seem like a bad idea, but I had a better one. Instead, I yelled several swears and many things I would be ashamed for my parents to hear as we sped towards the icy surface. Before we could hit the terrain, Din shot the ship back into the sky and through a frozen canyon.

         The walls surrounded us, slowly closing in and threatening to turn us into a kabob with its icicles. We were inching closer to the walls, practically suffocating in them as they nearly smashed the engines of our ship.

         I grabbed onto the back of his chair and leaned towards his seat as much as I could, keeping my voice low as I grumbled, "Din..."

         He sighed and glanced over at me with a slight turn of his head. "Hold on," he grunted as the ship slid along the ice. I was tossed back into my seat while we came to a screeching halt. Din started to switch the controls, but I was finally granted a moment to catch my breath

         "Thank the Maker," I huffed. Apparently I'd spoken too soon.

         I heard a crunch, followed by another. It seems the others heard it as well, because we all started looking around for the source of the sound. Then there was a large crash and the ship crashed beneath the ice. The frog lady screamed and Din was in a silent panic, as usual, then nothing.

         It all went dark and there was nothing else this time. Not a dream, not a nightmare - or, visions, as I was told when I was younger. There was nothing but cold and darkness and that's the closest thing to a nightmare I've ever had.

taglist:

@emiijemii​

[offical-dystopiantale]

*Chapter 2: Talk to me..*

Ink: Age 16

Error: Age 17

Part 1

Ink sighed, leaning back against the large oak tree behind him. Error, who sat beside him, looked up from his own math textbook, adjusting his red framed glasses. “You good?”

“My brain hurts.”

Error hummed, closing his book and tossing it aside. “We don’t have brains.”

Ink groaned and rolled his eyes, earning a snort from his friend. “Since when have you cared if something was accurate or not?”

“Since just now.” The taller skeleton took off his glasses, placing them into their special case. “The sun’s gonna go down soon. We should probably head back.”

The two boys were about half an hour out of town, at a small hill with a tree at the top; they found out about the place when they were younger, when Winter had taken them out for a picnic. Once they had gotten their driver's license, it became one of their regular hangout spots; along with Ink’s room.

… Speaking of which, it suddenly occurred to Ink that he’d never actually been in Error’s room. Or his house in general.

“Hey, earth-to-shorty.” Error gave him a gentle push, Ink blew a raspberry.

“Don’t call me that, you jerk.”

Error snorted again, leaning over to rest his arms on his knees. He gave Ink a wink, making the smaller skeleton’s ‘stomach’ do a flip, and his cheeks to flush. “It’s not my fault you’re only 4 feet tall”

Ink sank into his turtleneck sweater, efficiently hiding his ever growing blush. “I’m 4’11, not 4 feet.”

Error scooted closer to him, poking his cheek. “Aw, come on. Don’t be mad, I was only teasing you.”

That’s the problem, you idiot…

Ink had known for a while now that he had feelings for his taller friend. When they first started grade nine he started noticing he enjoyed being with Error more than just a friend would, and he’d get moments where he just wanted to hug him, or cuddle him and fall asleep curled up to his chest, or hold hands as they walked together.

Or kiss him.

He really, really wanted to kiss him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, he pushed Error’s hand away and stuck his tongue out. “Not all of us were blessed with incredible height”

.”Awe, you think I’m incredible?” Error wiggled his eyebrows as Ink’s blush darkened.

“Screw you!”

The ebony skeleton erupted into laughter, rocking backward. “You’re like an angry kitten, oh my god!”

Ink huffed, throwing a pencil at his friend, and gathered up the rest of his stuff into his bag. “Oh, whatever. Let’s head back, you big Glitch.”

Error gave a weak chuckle at his nickname, standing up to follow Ink to their car - since the two of them were almost always together, they decided they would buy the car together, and take turns driving.

“Do you want to hang out at my place for a bit? I think my mom was planning on baking cookies today.”

“Oh hell yeah, her baking is the fucking best.”

Ink slid into the car’s passenger seat, laughing and rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you say you were going to work on not swearing so much?

Error started the engine, and it made a whirring noise as it came to life. “I lied. I’m here for a fun time, not a long time, so I’ll say whatever shit I want to.” Ink giggled quietly, but there was a part of that sentence that made a lump form in his throat.

The ebony skeleton switched on the radio, an upbeat song suddenly filling the silence. Ink felt his worries wash away; things were good, they only had one more year of high school after this, and nothing bad was really happening in the world.

And he had Error.

The small monster felt himself relax, singing loudly and happily to the songs on the radio.n Eventually he got his friend to sing as well which only made his cheeks bloom with colour once again.

*****

Error grabbed another one of the still warm cookies off the plate in the middle on Ink’s bed, listening to the smaller monster ramble from the other end of the bed.. He always enjoyed being with Ink in his room; obviously not only because he was with his friend, but because the room was so colourful, cozy, and so very ‘Ink”.

The walls were painted baby blue with a soft gray carpet covering the floor. Above his plush bed - that was easily big enough for the both of them to sit (or lay) on at the same time - was Ink’s rainbow flag. In grade ten, during their school’s pride day, all the students were encouraged to wear rainbow items, or anything that supported the LGBTQ+ community. Ink managed to get Error to wear two buttons- one with the pan flag, and the other one with a rainbow - since he didn’t own any pride items himself, and the smaller skeleton has decided to tie his flag around his neck and wear it like a cape all day.

The poor monster had been bullied ruthlessly by a lot of their classmates because of it, and it came to the point that Error debated beating the shit out of them. He didn’t though, per Ink’s requests.

Now the flag stayed in his home, behind closed doors.

It pissed Error off to no end. He could still remember the way Ink’s eyes had drained of their sparkle when the flag idea backfired.

At least Winter was accepting of her son.

Unlike some people Error knew...

He shook his head, slipping back to the moment at hand.

Next to Ink’s bed was a side table with a glass of water and a lamp sitting on it. Next to the lamp was a framed photo of Error and Ink taken when the where 10 and 11, during their first summer as friends. Error remembered once asking his shorter friend why he decided to frame that photo, and not one that was more recent. The white skeleton had smiled and explained that that photo was extra special because it was taken so soon after they met; and that it meant a lot to Ink that they became friends.

Error didn’t know why someone like Ink cared about him, but he was thankful nonetheless.

“Error?”

The ebony skeleton snapped his eyes away from the picture and focused back on his friend, his cheeks turning blue. He’d completely zoned out, and had no idea what Ink had been saying.

The monster giggled, cheeks coming to life with a dusting of colour. “You got kinda distracted there, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Uh, sorry, can you repeat what you were saying?”

Ink giggled again, making Error blush harder: it was such a soft sound… it made him want to hold the smaller monster close to him, to find other ways to make him make that sound.

… wait.

What the hell has gotten into me?!

It wasn’t necessarily the first time he had thought something like that, and it always made him do a double take on himself.

He wondered what it meant.

“ I was talking about how I get my braces off in a few months!” He smiled widely, showing off the brackets and wires that covered the surface of his teeth.

Error hummed, then said, “I still don’t understand why you wanted to get those in the first place. The teeth gap was cute.”

Ink’s eyes widened, his blush darkening immensely. He covered his face, grumbling. “No it wasn’t… it gave me a lisp when I started getting older, especially if i was talking fast. Besides, Bylk and his friends said-”

“You shouldn’t listen to what those assholes say.”

“COme on, Error, they’re not that bad anymore…”

Oh, sure. They weren’t ‘that bad’ because Bylk was absolutely terrified of Error, all because he beat his ass back in fifth grade. Truth be told, Bylk was also only 5’6, while Error was a towering 6’0. Not that he was complaining about it, he liked that Ink wasn’t getting harassed as much anymore, but the griffin’s little gang still took jabs at the small skeleton when he was alone (since Error and him only had two classes together this year).

At least they knew better than to actually lay a finger on the skeleton now.

“Whatever, they’re assholes.”

Ink huffed, leaning back against his pillows. “It’s getting late.” He said after a few minutes.

Error groaned, turning to his phone. Sure enough, it was almost 10:30.

Fuck

“Guess I should head home then.”

“Mm… yeah, I guess so. Oh! That reminds me. I’m not going to be at school tomorrow morning!”

“What? Why not?”

“Another doctor appointment.” Ink rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. For as long as Error knew him, Ink had always have to miss at least a day of school every two months for a ‘doctor’s’ appointment. From what the small skeleton had explained, all they did was take a look at his soul, make sure his magic levels were good and somehow they checked to make sure he was feeling things normally.

… Error didn’t really understand it.

“Do they bother you?”

“Eh, not really. They used to make me kinda uncomfortable but, you know. I’ve had so many, they’re normal now.” He let out a small laugh. “That being said, they are pretty annoying.”

The ebony skeleton couldn’t help but wonder what that must be like for Ink; what goes through his head when he really thinks about it.

“I...should be going” Error stood up, grabbing his school bag off the floor.

Ink waved. “See ya, Error!” He called after him as he waved and left the room.

He gave a short goodbye to Ink’s mother - who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through some papers - and thanked her for the cookies before exiting out into the chilly night air. A wave a dread hit him as he stood at his front door.

Sucking in a breath, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open; praying his father was passed out.

Light from the TV in the living room eerily illuminated the dining room and front entrance. The stairs in front of Error looked like a tunnel, leading into a dark abyss. The seventeen-year-old pulled off his shoes and silently leaned into the living room. His father, Cyber Sona, sat spralled out on the reclining chair, empty beer cans and bottles littering the tables and some floor space around him: some were old, and others were new.

Error’s nose scrunched up in disgust and he quickly left the room; trying to be as quiet as possible as he went upstairs to his room, careful not to wake up his dad. Closing the door, Error sighed, sinking down onto his bed and dropping his bag carelessly onto the floor.

His room wasn’t anything like Ink’s; while his friend’s room was colourful and full of life, his was dark and gray. His bed was pressed against the wall next to the window and pointed towards Ink’s room - there had been many nights where they’d both sit by their windows, talking to each other through their phones. On the wall adjacent to his bed, he had a wooden desk covered in grade school assignments and writing utensils with his laptop sitting on top of it all. He also had a closet for clothes and such, but that was about it.

The house was deathly quiet, aside from the mindless chatter of the TV and occasional snore from the sleeping monster downstairs. Rolling over on his bed, the skeleton plucked his earphones off the cluttered side table next to his bed and plugged them into his phone.

He pressed play on a playlist, setting his phone down beside him, and stared up at the ceiling.

A recognizable numbness washed over him as the music made the house disappear around him, leaving only him...all alone. The feeling usually came when he got home from Ink’s, though sometimes it wasn’t so bad. Some days it was worse. Sometimes it lasted for days at a time, and he could barely bring himself to drag his ass out of bed.

Most days the numbness evolved into a deep and desperate sadness.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his comforter up and over top of him and burrowing his face into the pillow and blankets. He knew that sleep wouldn’t come to him, not yet at least, but the warmth gave him at least a little comfort; like a leash, keeping him tied to the real world and protecting him from falling into his thoughts completely.

Things always got worse when that happens.

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - 18 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 12k

-----------

“—acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature—“

Shawn is 20 minutes early to pick Maya up. 

“—wants to rule the world.” 

He’s parked a block away, humming to Tears For Fears as his fingers tap anxiously across his jean-clad thighs. 

He couldn’t sit still at home. He closed the shop early so he could comb through his closet that he’s suddenly worried is too poor-artist-chic (read: covered in paint) for the new Maya.

Not that he thinks she really cares about anything like that, but he’s seen her clothes. They’re way fancier now. He’s almost jealous.

He’s always had a thing for nice clothes and fashion. He’s just never had enough extra money to spend on those things. He always spent whatever profit he made on instruments to refurbish and materials for new models and other toys for his shop. 

He thinks, maybe, he needs more hobbies. And he needs to start traveling. 

He’s a bit intimidated as thinks of all the things Maya’s seen and done and the places she’s been. He’s lived a life shacked up in his workshop. He’s sheltered compared to her. 

They both used to be sheltered before. Now he feels miles behind her. 

Finally fed up with what he’d considered meager offerings from his own closet, Shawn decided to borrow a clean, plain black t-shirt from Geoff. Then he tugged on the new pair of deep blue skinnies Maya bought him the other week and tried not to feel weird about it. 

Now he sits in his Jeep and listens to music, his light denim jacket hugging his biceps the way she says she likes, and he’s hoping it’s enough to impress her while still looking, like, chill enough for go-karting. 

He’s probably overthinking it.

The alarm on his phone finally goes off. 

7:04 pm. Perfect. 

Shawn turns up Celebrity Skin by Hole and cranks the engine of his aging Jeep. He drives cautiously around the block, just to kill at least another few minutes, then finally parks in front of Maya’s cottage. He contemplated hooking into the alley to park in her garage like he had all summer, but tonight is different. 

She’s offering a fresh start for them, if he wants it. He’s not going to fuck it up before it even gets going. 

Maya fidgets, poking at an errant splotch of nail polish that made it out to her cuticle from when she painted them earlier. She’s been trying to distract herself all day from their date. Surfing, painting, drawing. She ate ravenously around 5:30, feeling like a grandma. But she wanted plenty of time to get ready.

How do you dress for a first date with the love of your life?

Go-karting is inherently casual, which is in a way harder to dress for. Casual summer feels skimpy to her and she doesn’t want to look like she’s expecting to get laid tonight. Because they’re Not Doing That. Slow and steady.

So she wants to show some skin but not so much that she’s irresistible just… distracting. After a long debate, she chooses a pair of cigarette-thin white capris and a turquoise tank that makes her tan glow. Even with that and the light makeup and hair, Maya is ready outrageously early. She curses herself for it because now she has more time to sit and stew.

What if go-karting is a bad idea? I mean, they’re trying to be grown ups. Maybe this is the wrong move? No, no it’s fine, it’s supposed to be low key and fun. What if they stumble over talking to each other all night? What if they don’t know how to be grown ups?

Maya rolls her eyes at herself and flops back on the bed just in time to hear his Jeep crackle over her gravel driveway. She flings herself upright, fixes her hair and scurries down the stairs, quieting her steps so he doesn’t hear how eager she sounds.

He climbs the stairs to her porch two at a time, trying to get the nervous energy out any way he can before he sees her. He hums. Rocks on his toes, then his heels. Checks his phone. 7:10. A little too on the nose. He takes a breath. 7:11. Good enough. 

He knocks. 

She opens the door with a glowing smile, deciding it’s not too much to look happy to see him. 

“Hey,” she says breathlessly, “You look… so great.”

She ducks her head a little, blushing like a teenager. 

He’s a little busy staring at her to reply immediately; he looks at her as if he doesn’t already know how beautiful she is. It feels like he doesn’t. Everything feels new, tonight, somehow. New, but also better. 

Shawn finally snaps to. 

“You look way out of my league,” he says with a laugh, puffing his chest slightly as he tries to pretend his cheeks aren’t turning red. 

Maya chooses to ignore his comment and decides to focus on the seeping blush in his cheeks because it looks so very good on him.

“Oh,” his brows raise, and then he shoves his hand into his pocket, fishing out the wine red and navy woven friendship bracelet he hid there earlier. He always meant to give it to her. He hadn’t finished it before she left. 

It feels a little silly now. A near 40-year-old man dangling something he made as a kid from his fingers like she’ll think it’s as special as he does. 

He wants her to have it, anyway. Even if she thinks it’s silly and throws it away. 

“I, uh, I found this. A few weeks ago, like, buried in an old college bag I was digging through. I didn’t-- I mean, it wasn’t finished so I finished it and I thought you might like it. But now I’m thinking that I probably should’ve gone with daisies.” 

She watches curiously as he digs through his pocket and produces a present. She recognizes the thread, remembers that he used to spend hours on the beach while she surfed tying bracelets together. It was good for his fidgety fingers when he didn’t have his guitar. 

Maya shrugs and feels a flush in her own cheeks that she knows she can’t fight. “Daisies die. This will last longer,” She holds her wrist out with a smile, “Would you tie it on for me, please?”

Shawn’s lips spread in a pleased smile. She wants to wear it. It seems like a stupid thing to be happy over but. He can’t help it. 

It feels special. Little victories, right?

“Oh, yeah, totally. C’mere,” he murmurs, corner of his mouth quirked. He cups the back of her hand to bring her wrist closer, then loops the thin bracelet around her, tying the frayed ends together tightly enough so it won’t fall off, but with enough room for her skin to breathe. 

Maya likes the bracelet very much. It’s like a portable version of her painting of them as kids at the Avila house -- a reminder of who they were and what they can become if they hold on.

Shawn smiles at her when he’s finished, stepping aside so she has room to close the door and lock up behind her. As she navigates her keys into her bag, Shawn tilts his head. “Still okay with go-karting?”

“Completely. And I thought maybe we’d get ice cream after.”

A little impulsively, because she thinks it’ll help take the edge off for both of them, she leans in and pecks his cheek quickly.

Shawn turns scarlet. Her lips on his cheek burn in the sweetest way. He grins at her, slow and coy, as she drops away from him. He catches her wrist as she goes, slipping his hand into hers, fingers intertwined. 

“I like ice cream,” he murmurs, then tugs her along, guiding her down the stairs and to his Jeep. He helps her inside and definitely does not let his gaze linger on the curve of her ass as she climbs onto her seat. 

Shawn closes the door once she’s settled then jogs around to the driver’s side. 

She didn’t have to worry for very long whether the cheek kiss was a good idea. The heat rushes to his face fast and furious. He takes her hand in his own gesture of closeness and helps her into his car like a gentleman.

He smiles at Maya as he slips into the car. He revs the Jeep to life, Courtney Love once again  rasping through the speakers. Hooking an arm around the neck of the passenger’s seat, Shawn backs down the driveway and into the street. Then they’re off, driving along the beach towards the go-kart track. 

“So,” Shawn starts, trying to sound far more casual than he feels, “How was your day?”

Maya smiles at his music choice and makes a mental note to ask him about it later. It’s a good, easy step into their deep pool of getting to know each other again.

She looks back at him from the singing white sand of the beach. She stifles a goofy grin at his question because it feels so very first date-y and she likes it. She likes the effort they’re both putting in tonight.

“Uhm… it was good. I got out to the beach early, the surf forecast looked great. I got my longboard out there for a couple hours. I stayed and swam around with a snorkel for awhile too, I found some cool fish that were kind of silver, I tried to google them to figure out what they were…”

Maya rambles. He likes it. He could listen to her ramble all day, about anything. He loves her voice, has always found it soothing. He smiles as he listens. 

She hears herself stalling. She cuts to the chase.

“And I spent all afternoon in my studio working on a new piece. It’s almost finished.”

“Oh yeah?” She hasn’t really mentioned her art to him all summer. He doesn’t feel like he knows Maya the artist at all anymore, save for the thimble on his back. He hopes she hasn’t changed her mind about letting him get it inked into his skin.

“Do-- I mean, can you tell me about it? You don’t have to, but, you know. I like knowing about your art.” 

Shawn glances at her, his lips pressed together as he watches her watch the beach. He gets his eyes back to the road before she can catch him. 

Maya feels the difference. This is the kind of question she would’ve dodged all summer. As close as he got, as close as she wanted him, she could never let him in this far. But after their showdown last week, it feels different now. It feels better.

“I started it last week after… uhm, after we fought. I had this image in my head that I couldn’t really get away from so I thought getting it out in paint would help. It’s… it’s a memory, I guess, of you and me and our last night in Avila. We’re on the daybed watching the sunset on the deck. To me, it’s a reminder. That we’re not kids anymore. That we can be more than that now if… we want.”

She looks over from her window to smile at him. “But I’m painting it to look like a photo so all the detail, y’know, it takes a while to get it perfect. I’ve been smelling like turpentine for days.”

“Oh,” he chokes, like an idiot. Shawn wasn’t expecting all of that. He’s not sure what he imagined her painting this summer, but he never let himself think it had anything to do with him. 

He feels the flush creep up the back of his neck again.

“That sounds really cool, Maya. I think, you know, I’d like to see it some time. When it’s finished or whenever.” He pulls up to a stoplight, leans his head back against his seat and looks over at her. He smiles. “But only if you’re okay with that.” 

He knows, almost better than anyone, that art can be personal. It’s why he doesn’t play his music anymore. It digs too deep and he doesn’t know how to share that with people, except for the occasional lyric or two with his therapist, or a song here and there with Geoff. 

It’s hard, baring your soul for people to critique. He doesn’t want to push a boundary by asking to see hers too soon.  

Maya is surprised by how much she wants him to see it once he offers his interest. All summer she’s painted. She’s illustrated loud, catastrophic shapes without definition or meaning and none of it has felt like her at all. She never painted that way before. Now that she’s creating her own way again, she finds she really does want to share it with him. She doesn’t want to hide.

“I’d love to show it to you. I only need a couple more hours with it I think before it’s officially time to leave it the hell alone.”

Maybe after they’ve spent some more time together, this slow, pressure-free, easy time, maybe he’ll let her draw or paint him again. She hasn’t sketched him since she came back to Avila. She looks over at him while he pulls into the parking lot and looks critically at the planes and angles of his face, imagining him in charcoal or fine graphite pencil. He’d be beautiful.

Shawn can feel Maya looking at him. He tries not to blush. He feels her gaze on him the way he used to back in college, when she would think about which angles of his she most wanted to draw. Which were dramatic, or soft, or romantic, or somber. 

She used to go on about it, but now, if she’s thinking it, she doesn’t share. Just watches him as he navigates the parking lot, then slides into a spot with enough room on either side for them to get out. 

He kills the engine. Turns to look at her with a careful smirk tugging his lips.

“Hi,” he starts. “Finished staring at me?” 

He calls her out with that smirk she loves. She beams at him. “I’ll let you know.”

She lets herself out of the Jeep and links her fingers with his again while they head toward the go-kart track. It’s outdoors, so they can hear the engines and smell the gas. It makes Maya chuckle.

“I haven’t done this in… god, I have no idea, actually. It’s definitely safe, right?”

She’s not too worried, it’s a family friendly joint and they have helmets and stuff. Maybe it’s her residual first date nerves that have her keyed up.

Shawn grins, turning on his heel to walk backwards as he squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

“C’mon Lemon. It’s obviously super safe. And I’m pretty sure they got brand new carts like 6 months ago.” 

He gives her a wink then turns back around, navigating his arm over her shoulders while keeping their fingers linked. 

He calls her ‘Lemon’ again and it makes her light up from the inside out. She wants to spin around in circles and squeal like a teenager who just got asked to prom. Instead she shivers at his wink and lets him cuddle up to her. He smells great, just like he always does. She puts her arm around his waist and enjoys the way a middle aged mom looks at them while she waits for her husband and sons to wrap around the track.

There are a few people in line at the little kiosk outside, so as they wait, Shawn pulls out his wallet and holds onto it. He doesn’t want her getting any funny ideas.

He’s been planning to splurge on the all-access wristbands that let them do as many laps as they want and play as many arcade games as they want. So, endless air hockey, if that’s what Maya wants. `  

His wallet dangles casually from his fingers, but in her line of sight. Just so she’ll get the hint. He squeezes her hand again. 

Shawn is up front with the wallet and she appreciates it. She would’ve of course offered to at least split it but he sends the signal loud and clear and it’s sweet and boyishly romantic. She squeezes his fingers right back.

He springs for the good wristbands and she cracks a joke about him basically paying to have his ass kicked repeatedly at air hockey. They get to pick helmets and she picks a pink one.

“So this isn’t like bumper cars, right? I don’t get to smash into people if they’re in my way?”

Shawn barks out a laugh. What he would give to watch Maya chase people down on the track. He shakes his head as they head for the cars. 

“I think you should try it and see what happens, eh?”

She giggles. “I don’t want to get us kicked out of this place before the date even really starts.”

But she knows as well as he that she gets carried away with her competitive drive sometimes. So who knows.

Shawn slips his lime green helmet on his head and clicks the strap beneath his chin. There’s another line to wait in, set up between metal bars that lead to a row of karts. Shawn flips around and leans against one bar, fingers curling around the metal as he smirks down at Maya. 

“Air hockey might be your game, but I’m about to kick your ass at mine.” Shawn reaches from the bar for her wrist, pulling her closer to him in line. 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Maya follows suit and slips on her neon pink helmet. The strip digs in under her chin but he distracts her easily by tempting her with a challenge.

She closes her eyes and sighs as he pulls her in. She plants a hand next to where he leans against the rail and tilts toward him conspiratorially.

“You’re awful confident for a 35-year-old going go-karting.”

She smirks triumphantly.

Shawn shrugs, grinning and looking down at his old chucks. He glances up at her without lifting his head. 

“Maybe there’s an Avila go-kart league. You don’t know.” 

Maya snorts and pictures it, Shawn, and surely Geoff because where Shawn goes, Geoff goes, even to this day -- the two of them bouncing around a go-kart track, chasing each other around like children, having a blast, one-upping each other whenever possible.

He grins, then straightens up, sliding down the bar as the line moves along. They’re near the front, but the line stops again as all the karts are on the track. Shawn sighs and pushes himself off of the bar. 

He slips behind Maya and drapes his arms over her shoulders. He presses his chin to the top of her pink helmet. 

“Wake me up when it’s our turn, Lu.” 

Maya keeps her silly grin in check as he drapes himself comfortably over her. She feels dainty. It’s kinda nice. As the line moves, she shuffles forward, pulling him along. 

She places her hands over his wrists and rubs his forearms where she knows he gets sore from detailing instruments all day. She hums from the back of her throat curiously.

“Why are you so tired, hun?”

Shawn sighs, shuffling along behind her. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, flipping one hand over so he can catch her fingers in his.  He tugs at her gently. “Too nervous thinking about my date with this really incredible woman. I dunno if you know her.” 

She could tell he was nervous, too. Hearing him admit it is kinda sweet, though. She imagines him rolling over in his bed, rumpling the sheets, heaving a sigh because he can’t decide if he wants to wear a blue shirt or a white shirt. It makes her smile so big her face hurts. 

His fingers are thick and warm between hers. She massages them gently and lets herself bask in it a little. 

“Bet she was nervous too,” she murmurs. 

Eventually, Shawn has to untangle himself from around Maya as they’re ushered out of the bars and towards the line of now unoccupied go-karts. He keeps their fingers linked until the last moment, only dropping her to climb into his kart. 

He buckles in, looking over as he watches Maya crawl into her own kart. 

“What do I get when I win?” he calls to her, grinning wide. 

The karts are bigger than she pictured but still small enough that watching Shawn crawl into one makes her laugh. As the engines rev, he gets cocky. 

Maya drapes her fingers over her steering wheel and steps past the dozen or so dirty jokes she’d make right now if it were a week or two ago. She smiles falsely. 

“There are prizes in the gum ball machine out front, cowboy. Or were you thinking of something else?”

Shawn can’t stop grinning. Maya never misses an opportunity to tease him. He likes it. He likes that she keeps him on his toes. 

“I was thinking you could buy my ice cream. And let me get extra toppings.” 

He winks at her, can’t help it, can’t feel anything but excited, nervous jitters right now that have his cheeks hurting from all the smiling. 

Maya tips her head back and laughs, feeling the adrenaline start to surge. 

“Any topping you want,” she promises. When she gets like this, she’s hard to beat at anything. She’ll have fun watching him try.

Over the speaker, a man announces 30 seconds until the green light. Shawn shifts in his seat, settling a bit lower and curling his fingers around the steering wheel. He revs the engine, still blocked in behind the gates that have yet to drop. 

He wonders, for a moment, if letting Maya win is the polite thing to do. But Shawn knows she’ll give him so much shit if he does that. She only likes winning if it’s a fair game. He looks over to her, seated in her kart with her hands draped casually over the wheel. 

He smiles. The countdown continues. 

Shawn settles in and she thinks it’s completely ridiculous how sexy he looks revving up a go-kart. It sets off a flurry of excitement that she knows is only egged on by her need to win.

She tightens her fingers around the wheel when the countdown hits the five second mark. When it hits 0, “GO!” flashes big and bright on the screen over the track. Maya’s reflexes are better, probably honed by surfing, and she gets off the blocks first.

The kart is bulky and difficult to manage, probably to keep people from going too fast or getting too dangerous. She gets distracted trying to turn around the first corner. Shawn gets the inside edge.

Maya swears under her breath and careens around the turn behind him, swerving around a middle schooler who’s not strong enough to turn the wheel quickly. She stomps on the gas around the second turn and comes up on the outside, but he holds her off. 

The remaining thirty seconds of the race have Shawn holding steady in first place. He wins pretty handily. As they pull back into the start gate, Maya huffs.

“How do you turn this thing so easily? What are you, the hulk?!”

He knew he would win, if only because he and Geoff do this like, more often than they probably should as grown-ass adults. It’s a beach town thing, though. The go-karting league is totally real, too, and something he’s pretty good at. 

They’ve got unlimited access to the track with their wrist bands, so they get to sit and wait for the next round while others climb out of their karts and new drivers pile in. Shawn grins, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the steering wheel as he shrugs. 

“Not my fault you skimp on arm day, Lemon.” 

They watch as the new drivers get settled into their karts, and the announcer makes another 30 second warning. 

“C’mon baby,” he says, glancing over her as the countdown nears 5, “Don’t go so easy on me.” 

He winks, and the lights on the screen above the track flash from red to yellow to green, then ‘GO!’ and with that, they’re off. 

Maya makes it off the block before him again, but he’s got the first turn clinched. The steering wheel isn’t so much heavy as it is bulky and awkward, and he knows that’s what Maya struggles with as he zooms past her on the inside of the track.

Three laps later and he zooms past the finish line and pulls into the gate about 3 seconds before she does. He settles back into his kart with a smile. 

“I think that was better than last time,” he laughs. 

By the time they’re pulling back into the start gate, Maya’s ears are still ringing from him calling her “baby,” even just teasingly. It feels like a year since he’s called her that. She decides to quietly blame that for her bad second race. 

She pouts and slaps the steering wheel when they pull back into the gate. “You are way too good at this. We need to get you out more if this is how you and Geoff are spending your Friday nights.”

She smirks because she’s kidding but also because she wants to be the one he spends his Friday nights with. Hopefully not go-karting because she totally sucks at it.

Shawn laughs, clicking open the hook of his helmet strap. 

“No, no. Fridays are usually karaoke at the Sandtrap. Saturday is for go-karting. Plus, you just don’t like losing.” 

He grins, wide and crooked at her, then plucks his helmet from his head and unfurls himself from the kart. He meanders to her kart, tucking the helmet beneath his arm and holding out a hand for her. 

Maya sighs and lets her hands fall to her thighs. “Air hockey or ice cream next?”

“I guess I could let you kick my ass in air hockey. Make you feel better about sucking at go-karts.” 

Maya tilts her head back and sighs pathetically, putting on a playful show. She lifts her hand weakly into his and lets him help her out of the kart. With one hand in his, she maneuvers out of the helmet and starts pulling him toward the arcade with a spark in her eyes.

“Let me or don’t let me, I’ll kick your cute little ass anyway, Mendes,” she teases.

Shawn laughs, shaking his head and squeezing her hand gently. 

He waits until they’ve given back their helmets to taunt, “You think my ass is cute,” in a lilting, sing-song tone. 

Maya giggles. “Your ass is adorable and you know it.” 

She stops short of smacking it. But she thinks about it.

They head into the arcade and find that one of the two air hockey tables is free. Maya goes for the red paddle before he can argue. She squares up at one end of the table, patting her paddle on the table, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Any last words, babe?”

Shawn’s left with the blue paddle, but he knew he would be. They both love red, but Maya, the reigning champ, gets whatever she wants. He swipes his paddle and glides it in a large circle over the table. 

“Just get the puck and show me what I’ve been missing, Lemon,” he urges with a smirk. 

Maya hunches over the table and puts the puck in place, looking back at him with a mischievous grin when she flips the switch that turns on the air. The table whirs to life and the puck starts skimming around, sliding every which way the air blows it. Maya strikes first, shooting the puck across to him. He bounces it back, but Maya has it on the backstroke and slams it into his goal quickly.

“Your grip’s too tight,” she advises with a wizened nod, “Don’t choke down on the paddle.”

She’s good. Faster than he is getting to the puck. He thinks he’s too tall for this game, because he can’t hunch over the way she does to get nice and close to the table. 

“Hey,” he grouses, reaching down for the puck in the slot. He twirls it between his fingers. “I didn’t trash your go-kart technique.” 

He drops the puck on the table and clamps it down with his paddle. He glances up at her, then back down to his paddle. 

Deep breath in, and then. He raises his paddle, releases the puck, and sends it flying towards Maya. 

(He takes her tip about his paddle grip. It’s a pretty good one.)

His next shot sails into Maya’s goal before she can fling it back toward him. She smirks.

“Maybe the student’s becoming the master.”

She fishes the puck back out and repositions it. She and Shawn volley back and forth until he loses some focus and she swings another shot past him. She cracks her neck back and forth theatrically.

“Mmk, I’m all loosened up now. You’re not getting another shot past me.”

“Your confidence is truly inspiring, Lemon,” he answers with a smirk as he pulls the puck out from his slot. 

He takes another shot.

Maya wins. He knew she would. He keeps up, mostly, scoring on her after she scores on him, but she always manages to stay a few points ahead. When she scores the winning goal, Shawn huffs and slides his blue paddle away, into the middle of the table where it floats around on it’s own, the air carrying one way then the other. 

“Why do I even try?” he laments, pressing his palms into the edge of the table as he hangs his head. 

Shawn looks back up at her after a moment, smirking a little. He tilts his head. “Will you give me a chance to win my dignity back? I can play a round of skee ball and get you that stuffed lion.” 

She loves that she can still beat him in air hockey. The universe feels right and balanced. It’s cute the way he loses, though. He gets grumpy but not mean. 

Maya strolls over to his side of the table and fishes one of his hands away from it, slipping her fingers between his to comfort him. 

“By all means, please. I don’t think I have a lion from the safari you won me 15 years ago. My collection is sorely lacking,” she teases. 

“Well,” Shawn hums, smiling down at her as he slides his thumb across her knuckles, “No animal kingdom is complete without its Lion King.” 

She tugs him away from the table toward the row of skee ball setups, considering what she could beat him at next. Probably pinball. She’s always been so good at pinball. 

He follows her to skee ball, holds his wristband over the scanner on one of the games that then shoots out a shiny white ball. He picks up the ball, spins it in his fingers and drops Maya’s hand. 

“All right, honey,” he purrs, rolling the ball between his palms, “Get ready to be amazed. I’m even better at this than I am at go-karting.” 

It’s probably not the sexiest thing to admit, but he’s always been good at skee ball. Long arms and all. Plus he’s got pretty good aim. God, he feels like he’s in high school, trying to impress the girl he likes by winning her prizes. It’s mostly a joke, but Shawn’s sure there will always be a part of him that wants desperately to impress Maya. 

No matter how slow this relationship goes, that won’t change. 

Shawn tosses the ball in the air once, catches it, then glides it along the smooth slope of the skee ball machine, where it flies over the ledge and pops up towards the corner. He holds his breath, and then the flashing lights go off as the ball drops into the hole that reads ‘100!’ 

“See,” he says with a grin, reaching for the next white ball the machine spits out. “Lion’ll be your before you know it.” 

Maya stands back to watch as he starts racking up points. She crosses her arms over her chest and bites down on a stupid smile. He’s right, he’s excellent at this. And he’s a lot of fun to watch. His eyes are all focused until they light up just like the game in front of him.

“At this rate, you’re gonna win the whole jungle,” she laughs, shaking her head as she watches the point count on the board go higher and higher.

She props herself up against the wall. “Can I ask you something?” She decides not to wait to ask her question. “What made you come back to Avila after LA?”

He tosses the last ball just as she makes his heart stop with her inquiry. He wasn’t expecting it, like, at all. 

The ball pops into the 50 point hole, and then it’s game over. Tickets start streaming out of the little slot at the bottom of the machine. 

Shawn swallows and turns to face Maya, slipping his hands into his pockets. He rocks back on his heels and shrugs. 

“Do you think I could-- I dunno. Could we get ice cream first?” 

It sounds like a cop out, but he doesn’t think this is something he wants to talk about while waiting for the skee ball machine to finish spitting out their tickets. 

Maya seals her lips together. He goes a little tense at her question and almost misses his shot. She swallows, hoping this isn’t too much too soon. She just… she wants to get to know him again.

Maya nods sheepishly and helps him fish his enormous bundle of tickets off the floor. They stack them in Shawn’s fist and start heading toward the prize counter. 

Maya plays with her fingers as they walk in silence. It’s grating.

“I… sorry. I mean, you don’t have to talk about this. I don’t want to pressure you. I understand it might be hard to talk about.”

Shawn frowns. She doesn’t need to apologize. And he doesn’t not want to talk to her about it. When it was happening, she was the only person he wanted to talk to at all. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought to tell her about it sooner, other than that he was subconsciously trying to pretend like their time apart never happened. 

He can’t pretend anymore. He wants Maya to know everything about him, just like she used to. 

“Hey, no,” he says when they reach the counter. He presses the tickets into the glass as they wait for the clerk to finish helping a gaggle of teen girls. “I want to talk about it. Just. Not while juggling all of these tickets.” 

He gives her a crooked smile and reaches for her hand, now that his are free. 

Shawn does a very effective job of making her feel less awkward about the question. His voice is warm and soft and he takes her hand comfortingly.

She loves holding his hand. It’s such a simple pleasure, but she found herself missing it in their many years apart, when she let herself think about him. She wraps her other hand around his so it’s sandwiched between both of hers.

“I can be patient,” she murmurs meaningfully, smiling up at him.

The clerk takes their tickets and Shawn asks him for the egregiously large stuffed lion that sits atop the mountain of prizes. Maya laughs when he hands it over. She tucks it under her arm.

“I don’t know where I’m putting this guy. Maybe he can live in my art studio,” she muses.

Shawn laughs, reaching over to fluff up a matted section of the lion’s mane. 

“I think he’ll make a great companion for you there. Like a muse.” 

Maya pictures propping her new lion friend up in the corner as a reminder of him. She likes that idea. 

As they head toward the ice cream bar, Shawn lifts their linked fingers, bringing Maya’s knuckles to his lips. He brushes a kiss across her skin, another gesture of reassurance. 

“Okay, Lu,” he says once they fold into the line, “What’s your poison?” 

He looks up at the menu, considering which treat will go best with talking about his terrible time in LA. Probably anything with chocolate. 

His lips kiss over her knuckles but the goosebumps spread far and wide. She sidles up next to him, holding his hand and cupping her other hand around his arm as he scans the menu. 

“I’m going Classic. Chocolate dipped swirl with strawberry syrup and chocolate jimmies.”

She hasn’t gotten ice cream from a truck like this in so long. She smiles, turning in to press her lips to his shoulder while he decides. 

Shawn grins. He likes Maya’s order. She always knew how to indulge. He feels her nudge a kiss into his arm, so he leans over and brushed his lips against the top of her head. 

Maya thinks it’s funny how they’ve been kissing all night, just not on the mouth. They’ve never been shy about PDA. She doesn’t think they’re shy now either, but she does think they’re both taking the slow part of their new relationship seriously. And they’ve unspokenly decided too much kissing on the mouth is a bad idea.

She doesn’t mind, actually. Especially because the idea of getting one single, perfect goodnight kiss out of Shawn has her light on her feet.

“That sounds delicious, sugar,” he hums, then looks back to the men. “But I think I’ve gotta go with with Neapolitan swirl. Chocolate dip and rainbow jimmies.”

He wiggles his wallet out of his pocket as they step to the front of the line to order, feigns like he doesn’t remember giving her shit about buying him ice cream for winning at go-karts. 

He places both of their orders and pays, leaving a few too many ones in the tip jar. He’s always been a hefty tipper, though. He gets it. He lived off of tips for long enough. 

She decides not to fight him on paying, not after that absurd date she dragged him on a couple weeks ago. It’s not that she’s hurting for cash or anything, she just thinks that feeling on equal footing for as long as possible is good for them right now. She does kiss his cheek, though, a fat, wet plant of her lips with a giggle behind it and a “thank you” murmured in his ear.

Shawn’s lip twitch with a hint of smirk when Maya places a messy kiss on the apple of his cheek. He doesn’t get a chance to reciprocate, though, before they’re handed lavish ice cream cones that take a bit of extra effort not to drop.  

Shawn guides Maya to one of the small plastic tables set up in front of the truck. He drops her hand so he can pull her seat out for her, a plastic green chair that scrapes obnoxiously on the asphalt beneath it. 

She sits in the seat he offers and crosses her legs, taking a first few swipes at her cone to alleviate some dribbling. When they’re settled in, she smiles over at him chasing some jimmies down his hand. She decides to wait for him to launch into the LA thing because she doesn’t want to feel like she’s badgering him.

The lion sits on the table between them as Shawn settles into his cone. A few sprinkles fall from the ice cream and onto his fingers as he takes a bite from the top. “Mmph,” he mumbles as he sucks the colorful jimmies from his skin. 

Maya laughs with her ice cream cone next to her mouth as she watches Shawn strategically attack his. She does her best not to slurp at hers but it’s hot and melting quickly. 

He looks up at Maya from over the slope of the stuffed lion’s back and realizes she’s waiting for him to talk about LA. He licks a drop of ice cream from his lip and considers where to begin. He hasn’t spoken about this with anyone in like, four years. He’s only ever really discussed it with Leah and his therapist. Geoff was there, so they don’t have to talk about it. 

“So, LA, right? I think the problem with LA is that, unless you have a solid game plan and like, people you can really trust, the city will chew you up and spit you out. And I didn’t have those things. I figured, I dunno, I could skate by on talent and sheer passion alone.” 

Shawn shrugs, looking away from Maya to lick at the top of his ice cream. He crunches on sprinkles and licks chocolate sauce from the corner of his mouth. 

“I never found a band that I really gelled with. Not musically, anyway. Either we disagreed about, like, our musical vision or whatever, or our personalities clashed or they were more obsessed with fame and drugs and hookers than actually like, being musicians.” 

She listens intently. He doesn’t sound too broken up about it, helped, she suspects, by many years between then and now. Still, she considers as she watches him affectionately, it was his dream and he let it go. 

She ducks her head in disappointment at his assessment of his former bandmates. “That must’ve been so hard. To feel so disconnected from them on something you’ve always wanted.”

She hopes he’s not too disappointed about his trajectory. He seems truly happy with his shop. She hopes he doesn’t have regrets. 

Maya sounds sad for him. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t feel sad about it. Not anymore anyway. 

He takes a bite of his ice cream, crunches the jimmies. 

“It’s okay. I mean, yeah, it sucked, but it also helped. It was formative, or whatever. And it made me realize that I didn’t really want that life, anyway. If I had really wanted it, I would’ve kept fighting for it. And I probably wouldn’t have done so much coke just to get through the nights.” 

He doesn’t know how else to bring it up. That he fucked over his body in a way they both always said they hated and would never do. 

It was easier to do it when he was alone and tired and disappointed with his life. He doesn’t ever miss it these days, though. 

Maya feels like her heart drops into her stomach to slosh around with some melted ice cream. The vision of him is cold, standing in dirty club bathrooms waiting to go on at 2am with bandmates he doesn’t like, snorting a line off his hand. She closes her eyes.

“God, sweetheart,” she rasps, clearing the tears out of her throat with a shake of her head. They sting as they threaten to fall. She nourishes her sore throat with another bite of cold ice cream before she speaks again.

“Maybe our experiences weren’t so different,” she admits, lowering her gaze as she remembers her late nights spent on the opposite coast buying Adderall from her bro-y coworkers so she could work until 3 or 4am on an all-too-consistent basis.

His heart breaks at the sound of her voice. He didn’t mean to upset her with any of this. But she asked and he doesn’t want to tell her half-truths anymore. 

“Lu,” he murmurs. He guesses he should’ve known, should’ve put it together, that being a hardworking business woman in Manhattan meant long days followed by longer nights only survived with the help of a stimulant or two. He hates that she got caught up in it too. 

But it’s life, he guesses, and it made them who they are now. 

She lifts her eyes to his, unafraid of his judgement, knowing he won’t put it on her. She smiles weakly. “I guess we can’t harp on this kind of stuff. We did what we felt we had to to survive. And we got ourselves out.”

Shawn scoots his chair around the table towards Maya, plastic legs scratching noisily across the asphalt. He turns it to face her, his knees digging into the arm of her chair. Reaching for her free hand with his, he pulls it into his lap and curls their fingers together. 

“Hey,” he says with a smile, bringing her fingertips to his cold lips, “I’m glad we’re here now. You know?” 

Maya watches with a nearly bursting heart as Shawn pulls himself over to sit closer to her. His lips are soft and cool. She thinks about leaning over to taste them but feels like the moment doesn’t quite call for it. Instead she thumbs at the dimple in his chin and smiles a little wider.

“You have no idea how glad I am that we’re here now,” she replies almost breathlessly. 

She thinks he probably does have some idea, especially given how rough his years apart from her are starting to sound. They’ve been through the wringer. They both deserve to relax and take it in a little. The fact that they get to do it together is something Maya never imagined could happen again. She could let herself get swept up in it but wants to keep things fun and maybe a little lighter on this date because first dates are supposed to be fun.

Maya swipes her tongue around her dripping cone and traces her finger against his jaw affectionately. “Would you let me draw you again soon?”

He’s got an overwhelming urge to kiss her, but he resists by licking at his dripping ice cream instead. He’s making himself wait. He wants to deserve it. He wants her to remember the moment crisply, with the same sort of clarity you remember something that truly affected you, a sharp contrast to everything else because of how it changed your life. 

Maybe he has romantically high hopes for this kiss.

Some habits die hard. 

Shawn’s eyes fall shut as she traces the angle of his jaw. He sucks in a soft breath. 

“You can draw me anytime you want, Lemon,” he murmurs, gazing at her from under hooded as his fingers curl around her wrist. 

“I always thought I was a pretty good model,” he bites into his cone, giving Maya a crooked smile as he chews. 

Maya goes pink. He reacts so well when she touches him, always. She leaves her warm fingers around the side of his neck, stroking gently at his curls. She loves the tiny ones that sit around his ears.

“You’ve always been my favorite model,” she promises, nodding firmly, “I have sketchpads full of proof of that.”

She smiles and bites into her own cone, looking off to reminisce. “I actually have all my old sketchbooks. If you go back far enough in my catalog, you can find the week we met. I think I started drawing you only a couple days after. I wasn’t very good then. I could never get your eyes right.”

He feels himself blushing. He misses the weight of her gaze on him as she sketched. He misses the way she would nudge his face with her fingertips to make sure his features caught the light just right. He misses how her cheeks would turn pink each time she finished a drawing with which she was particularly pleased.

He misses the privilege of admiring her many sketches, of him or otherwise, most of all. 

“I always liked the way you did my eyes,” he hums, crunching into more of his cone. 

“You made this one less droopy,” he says with a grin, pushing at the corner of his lazy eye. He laughs, “I really was so self-conscious about that back then.”

Maya finally lets him go with a swipe of her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. She takes another bite of ice cream and giggles with him, catching his fingers from his face to squeeze them in hers.

“I always loved it,” she tells him honestly after swallowing, “When you got tired, you looked like a puppy.”

She thinks of the nights they stayed up pretending to study in between long, languid kisses. They kissed like they had their entire lives to do it. They kissed arrogantly back then, like kids.

Maya takes the final bite, finishing off her cone. She clears her throat and looks over at him. “Don’t look much like a puppy now, though. All grown up.”

She can feel the heat in her face when she says it despite the frozen treat. She’s… hitting on him. It’s kinda funny.

Shawn is busy licking the remains of his ice cream from his fingers when he’s distracted by the raspy tone of her voice. He releases his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop and quirks a brow at her. 

“Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?” 

He pouts, but he can’t hold it for long and cracks a smile after a moment. 

She swallows roughly and shakes out a laugh, then bashfully looks away. He knows how cute he is. He also knows how absolutely heart-stoppingly gorgeous he is. He wears it well, warmly and modestly, but he knows it’s there. He wears the confidence better these days than he ever used to. 

After a moment, Shawn pushes his chair backward to give himself room to cross his ankle over his knee and fold his arms behind his head. He leans back and looks at Maya. 

Maya watches as he relaxes into his chair. She follows suit, crossing her long legs and leaning forward to look up at the stars. 

“Can I tell you something? I, uh, I felt weird saying anything before, but I want you to know. I want you to know everything now, so.” 

She blinks quickly, a little startled. She wets her lips and glances back at him. “You can tell me anything. Of course.”

She really believes that now. 

Shawn bites at his lip, cheek bulging with a slight smile before he continues. 

“So, you know that guitar I showed you? The first one I ever made?” His fingers scratch over his thigh, nails picking at his jeans. He takes a breath, wets his lips.

“I named it after you,” he finally says with a soft laugh, shaking his head a little. “Lulu. Guess I was still kinda lovesick.” 

Maya was preparing herself for something worse, something harsher. He pleasantly surprises her. A bubble of a giggle rises in her throat. She’s delighted and totally honored. She goes a warm pink color and settles further into her chair, slumping down as she beams at him.

“Really? Wow. I’ll take a guitar named after me over a ship any day of the week.”

She laughs again, blushing furiously, raking a hand through her hair, “Especially if you made it.” 

“Could name a whole series after you, sugar,” he murmurs, sitting forward and leaning his forearms on his knees. He tilts his head. “Would you let me do that?” 

He’s been thinking about it for a while, now. Starting a proper series with a name, instead of just fucking around with whatever he wants, or only refurbishing. The money’s better with refurb. But that’s why he saves, and that’s why he keeps strong relationships with his elite clients. Elite is classiest way to say famous, he’s pretty sure. 

Anyway, he thinks naming a series after Maya would be. Nice. Maybe a little cheesy, and sentimental. But he’s a little cheesy and a little sentimental. He can’t help it, not with her. 

Maya is flooded with pride. She aims her gaze down at her feet and takes a deep breath.

“I’d love that. When you decide I’ve earned it.”

She doesn’t want them getting ahead of themselves again. It’s so easy for them to do. But she wants stable, she wants a foundation, not building blocks just tall enough for them to keep climbing with nothing to hold onto. 

But someday? Yeah. She’d like that.

She’s right about earning it. Not that he doesn’t think she already deserves it, because she does. He’s the one who needs to earn it. And they need to earn it together, too. 

He stands up, tucks the lion under his arm and reaches for Maya’s hand when she stands, too. His thumb brushes her knuckles while he leads her toward the parking lot. 

“Do you wanna, I dunno, drive around and talk a little? I don’t think I’m too sick of you yet,” he asks with a wry grin, glancing down at her as he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. 

She’s relieved when he mentions an alternative to taking her straight home. She doesn’t want this night over yet. Because he’s not coming home with her. 

“That sounds perfect,” she assures him, walking a tad closer to his side, “We should do Shore Drive and check out all those crazy massive mansions on the north end of the beach.”

Shawn grins. “You love Shore Drive. Why not get a fancy mansion yourself?” 

He’s teasing, really. He loves her cottage. It’s comfy and cozy and so perfect for Maya. He knows why she picked it. 

Maya grins and shrugs. “I do love Shore Drive but I just like to gawk at it, I wouldn’t actually live there. When I was dreaming of Avila I always pictured myself in one of the old historical cottages in my neighborhood.”

She also pictured herself with him if she’s being honest, but that kind of admission doesn’t go well with the “take it slow” plan they’ve devised.

Shawn leads her to the passenger’s side, opens the door and helps her inside with a gentle smile. She’s got her bare feet kicked up onto the dashboard by the time he’s tucked the lion away and slid into the driver’s seat. 

Maya makes herself comfortable in her seat. He looks happy to see her there. She watches him carefully stow the lion in the backseat and start the engine. The radio turns on like it always does in his car to a station playing some mellow John Mayer. She smiles and turns it down just slightly so they can talk over it.

“So I’m taking the long way, right?” he asks, looking at her as he slows to a stop at the red light leading out of the parking lot. 

Maya smiles again, softer this time. She burrows down into her seat that smells like him. “Yes please. I like taking the long way with you.”

The fastest way to Shore Drive is to the right, so when the light turns green, Shawn hooks left. He flicks the button above the rear view mirror and the sunroof glides back. He rolls down the windows and hangs an arm outside as they whip down the beachside highway. 

Maya purrs with the wind in her hair. Usually she gets sleepy sitting in the car but she’s strangely energized tonight. She watches moonlight bounce off the ocean with a sparkle in her eye. She takes a deep sea-salted breath and releases it slowly through her nose.

“So,” Shawn starts after a moment of driving in silence. “I wanna know. You said— before-- you said I don’t know you anymore. And I want to. So let’s, I dunno, let’s play twenty questions or something.” 

He glances over at her, feeling his cheeks twinge. He smiles, then looks back out to the road. 

“I mean, if you want.” 

Maya nods at his idea, considering. She has so many questions floating around in varying degrees of heaviness, she’s not sure where to go first. She bobs her head back and forth, considering.

“Hmm… ok… how about… other than blow, what are your chosen vices of the last 12 years?”

She says it with a smile so he knows he’s safe with her.

“Oooh,” he purrs, smirking slight as he glances at her. “Only on question one and already getting gritty?” 

He chuckles, then sinks his teeth into his lower lip while he thinks. He racks his brain for a good, not-boring answer as he chews at his lip, then soothes it with his tongue. 

“Hm,” he murmurs, shrugging a little. “Besides weed and Wednesday night s’mores? I guess those M&M cookies from Panera. Good snack when I’m at the shop late.” 

He glances at Maya, corner of his mouth tugged into a frown. “That’s super fucking boring. I’m really boring compared to like, Manhattan people.” 

Maya tosses her head back, laughing. “M&M cookies! Those are the best. The chocolate chip ones have nothing on the M&M cookies.”

She wonders if she could pull off baking him a batch herself. Probably not. She might try anyway. He’d probably like that. 

“So what about you?”

Maya smiles conspiratorially. “I used to have an online shopping problem. I would order so much stupid shit in the middle of the night. Once I ordered a tangerine orange Kitchenaid mixer.”

Shawn thinks if he were as well off as Maya, he’d have an online shopping problem too. He laughs, shaking his head. Pressing his palm into the steering wheel, he carefully banks the Jeep around a twisting curve in the road. 

“Can you even bake? Is that a secret skill you learned?” 

Maya exhales so her lips flap comically. She shakes her head and looks down at their twining fingers. She smiles.

“I definitely can’t bake. I can sometimes make chocolate chip cookies without burning them. Like, sometimes.”

She chuckles at herself. She thinks of all the Amazon returns she made in the cold light of day with a blush in her cheeks for even ordering it in the first place.

“Ok. Your turn.” She turns her head to look out at the water. 

Shawn switches hands on the wheel so he can reach across the console for her. He glides his palm over the back of her hand, slotting their fingers together so the tips of his brush her wrist. 

“Mm. New question for you. What’s your go to comfort movie? You—“ he clears his throat, “You said I don’t know your favorite movies, but I used to. So—“ his lips twitch, “—I wanna know again.” 

Maya’s very sure Shawn could still reel off an impressive list of all her favorite movies, even now, even after all this time. She vaguely recalls crying at him the other day about having go-to movies she’d put to calm her down and help her fall asleep when she was in the thick of the stress at work.

“I mean, I still love all the movies I did. I adopted a couple that used to be what I’d put on to fall asleep. They’re weird choices, actually. One was “The Other Woman” with Leslie Mann and Cameron Diaz. I really liked all their outfits and their houses. The other one was Casablanca.”

She tilts her head back at him with a shy smile. Casablanca was her favorite fantasy, apart from the ending.

Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world. Shawn said something like that to her recently, before their blow up. She hasn’t forgotten.

Shawn frowns, foot easing off the gas as they pull onto Shore Drive, slowing down a bit so Maya can admire the mansions. 

“I have a love-hate relationship with Casablanca. I don’t like a sad ending, I guess.” 

Maya nods in understanding. It is a heartbreaking ending. She was usually asleep before it ended, though, mercifully. She thinks she wouldn’t like it as much if she watched the ending regularly. It would hit too close to home.

Maya doesn’t think she’s as interested in the mansions as she expected to be, not with him sitting here, captivating her like he does. She glances over his shoulder at one of her favorite Shore Drive houses and back at him.

The Jeep rolls to a stop when they come to the stop sign at the end of the second block. There’s no one around at the moment, so Shawn looks from the road to Maya, only to find she’s already looking at him. He smiles. 

“Tell me a secret,” he says, dragging his calloused thumb across her knuckles, “Something you haven’t told anyone ever. Even if it’s silly or stupid. Or embarrassing.” 

He grins, quirking a brow. 

Her nose twitches. She strokes her free hand through her hair. What secret could she possibly have to share with him that he doesn’t already know? He used to know everything. What’s left?

Her brows pull together, then apart. She smirks. “This isn’t exactly a secret but I haven’t told anyone I did this, only people in my office know. When I quit my job, I didn’t give notice or anything, I just walked out one day during lunch in my $2000 Gucci suit and took the subway to Central Park. I ate a hot dog. And then I ate another. And then I got a third one and ate it on my way into my boss’s office. I told him I quit, I crumpled up the wax paper and tossed it on his desk. I packed up my office and never went back.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s one of the proudest moments of my life, I think.”

“Holy shit, Lu.” 

He says it before he can stop himself, doesn’t mean to sound as bewildered as he does. He’s not so much surprised by the story as he is impressed. Proud. Thankful she stood up for herself when she needed to. 

He grins, reaches from the steering wheel to cup his other hand around hers, so he’s got her completely encompassed by his broad palms. 

“That’s really fucking awesome. I don’t think I’d have the guts to do that,” he shakes his head, squeezing her hand gently. 

Maya preens at his reaction. She lets him take her hand and gush at her a little. Bubbling under his gaze, she reaches up with her free hand and draws a blunted fingernail against his jaw, admiring the perfect line of it. Her fingers twitch in his for her pencils.

“But, ah, I think you’ve always been braver than me,” his smile softens, and he carefully brings her hand to his mouth, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. He presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, thumb pushing into the middle of her palm. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” she murmurs.

Shawn was brave even when she wasn’t. He got himself to LA even without her as a parachute. When it didn’t go to his plan, he was brave enough to get himself out and start fresh and new where no one knew him. He’s been brave his whole life -- she feels she’s only been brave in the last few months.

His lips are a compliment all their own. She accepts it with an extra pulse of her heart. 

Shawn blushes. The flush starts in the tips of his ears and spreads to his cheeks. No one gets him this bashful anymore. It used to be easy, but the years have hardened him. Now, it’s only Maya. 

He pulls a hand from hers and takes the steering wheel. He starts driving again so he doesn’t kiss her. His Jeep is a dangerous place to kiss. They used to fuck all the time in the Jeep he had in college. This newer model has even more room for them to mess around. 

He doesn’t need the temptation. Go slow. 

Maya inhales as her chest falls back with the gentle lurch of the car. It’s good they’re moving. Moving means not stopping, not crawling into the backseat, not getting carnal at the corner of Shore and Shell. Moving is good. 

“If it’s my turn to ask a question again,” she starts, voice soft and quiet over the lapping of the waves on shore, “What’s the last song you wrote?”

Maya’s question almost makes him choke. The only songs he ever writes anymore are about her. The songwriter part of him feels like a remnant from before, from when he was so in love with her he couldn’t contain it to their relationship, so it poured out of him as music and lyrics. 

It’s a way to cope now.

“I uh,” he laughs, “I wrote a few stanzas on the harp the other day.” 

Safe answer. Neutral. 

But then— 

“I guess that’s not, like, a real song though. The, ah, the last real song I wrote was a few weeks ago? It just kind of came to me at the piano. The music anyway. I’ve been jotting down lyrics all summer.” 

She clears her throat and continues admiring the houses as they pass slowly on the deserted street. She’s glad to hear he’s been writing music even if he gets a little cagey about what kind. She nods like she’s not dying of curiosity. 

“Oh, that’s great! What… um, what’s it called?”

A thinly veiled version of “is it about me?” if Maya’s ever heard one. 

He doesn’t feel like hiding from her anymore. The parts of himself he shared in the beginning of the summer were the easy ones. The ones she already knew. The songs he used to write about her were simple. Juvenile. Important, but he’s outgrown them. 

The ones he writes now cut a little more deeply, in ways he didn’t want her to know about when he was busy acting like they were the same people they’d been in college. 

“Oh, eh, I don’t really have a title yet. That’s always the hardest part for me. But I think, well, it’s definitely about us. About you.” 

He wants to say if that’s okay, but his adult brain reminds him he doesn’t need her permission to write music about things that are important to him. 

Shawn doesn’t hesitate to tell her he’s written about her. She can’t say she’s completely surprised. It’s nice to hear, though. The confirmation from him feels good. He cares enough to write. 

Maya nods. She glances past him at an old Victorian that’s stood the test of time. It’s weatherbeaten and stately and it’s not going anywhere. 

“I think it’s good for us both,” she assures him, “That we’re both re-exploring what we love to do. That we’re working on ourselves that way. And that we’re honest about it.”

She talks about them like they’re a team. That’s really all he’s ever wanted. His heart flutters in his chest. He thinks it’s good, too. 

“It’s not a happy song,” he says, because he can’t stop the honesty now. He wrote it when he still thought she was going back to New York. At the time, he thought it was evidence that he could cope with her leaving. 

Now he thinks it works with the new relationship they’re embarking upon. He can fiddle with a couple of the lyrics, anyway. 

Maya casts her eyes out at the water. She hums. 

“They can’t all be happy songs, I guess.”

She thinks all they can do is hope the rest of their songs will be happy. They deserve that. They both do. 

He glances at her as he turns off of Shore, down a small beach road that will spit them back onto Main Street, eventually. 

“But I could play it for you sometime. If you want.” 

She feels his eyes again. She looks back with a quiet smile. “I’d love to hear it when you’re ready for me.”

Coming back to Main Street means the end of the night. Maya sighs and hopes it doesn’t come off too dramatic. But the truth is, this was a hell of a first date. She feels better with him now than she has all summer. Cards are on the table. 

As he pulls into her driveway to drop her off, she grins. 

“You still owe me about 16 more questions,” she laughs, “Rain check?”

Shawn feels like he is the embodiment of the sigh she releases. He doesn’t want the night to be over either. He goes as slowly as he can on the way back to her house, squeezing her hand every now and then. 

He throws the Jeep in park and lets his head fall back against the seat. He smiles. 

“What if you ask me one more while I walk you to your door?” 

He lifts his brows, then gets out of the car and jogs to the passenger’s side so he can open the door for Maya. 

Maya fights the embarrassed chuckling that threatens when he scampers around the side of the car to help her out. She takes his hand and steps out, her sandals hooked in her fingers. She keeps hold of his hand and walks slowly up the cobblestone path to her front door. She glances over at her porch swing and thinks maybe she’ll come out here after she gets ready for bed with her sketchpad, something to take the edge off before she sleeps.

In the warm lamplight, Shawn glows. She takes his other hand and steps a little closer to him. She swallows any nerves left and fixes her eyes on his.

“Ok, last question. How do you feel about how tonight went?”

Shawn drops one of her hands in favor of cupping her neck, thumb stroking across her jaw. He smiles, hanging his head a bit closer to her. 

“I feel like it was the best first date I’ve ever been on.” It sounds like a line, but he says it as earnestly as he can and hopes she’ll know he means it. 

His gaze drops to her lips, but only briefly. He looks up, wetting his own lips and pressing them together. 

His voice is raspy when next he speaks. 

“I also feel like I’d really like to kiss you now,” he clears his throat. Then, gently, “Please.” 

Maya’s eyes flutter. His thumb is hot and rough on her skin. When he’s standing this close, she can smell his cologne, shampoo, body wash, him. She fights a pathetic whimper rising in her throat.

It’s just a kiss. It’s just a kiss.

He looks down at her lips and she nearly lunges for him. Apparently it’s a kiss she’s fucking starving for. 

She exhales slowly trying not to pant at him.

“Yeah. Yes. Mhmm. Please. Kiss me.”

Kissing Maya is so easy and so hard at the same time. Easy, because they’ve done it so much, hard, because they’ve never done it like this. He’s never had to walk away from her after. 

He presses his thumb to the apple of her cheek as he brings his lips to hers, his chest deflating with a soft murmur as he releases a breath he’s been holding all night. He sighs into her mouth, stepping closer to her until their bodies are flush together. 

It’s a dangerous game, sipping at her lips and holding her close while not letting it go any further. He’s delicate with her, doesn’t try to coax her mouth open with his tongue, even though the instinct is there, twitching in his fingers. 

He resists. It’ll be worth it, in the long run. 

The kiss is somewhat chaste but it doesn’t feel unsatisfying, exactly. Just cautious. It’s warm and soft and so tender. 

She wants to suck on his lower lip or tangle her fingers in his hair. She wants to let them in so they can stumble up the stairs, shedding clothes as they go. She doesn’t. She just kisses him back, inhaling as he sighs. 

They separate gently. She licks her lips, like she just wants to taste him again. 

She’s panting, not because the kiss was so hot, but from the strength it takes to control herself. 

“So uhm,” she murmurs, “Do you want to… I dunno, hang out again tomorrow?”

Is that too soon? What does taking it slow feel like?

Shawn has to take two full steps away from her to make sure he doesn’t stumble inside after her, like he’s done so many times this summer. 

Go slow. 

She sounds unsure of her offer, but he wants it. He grins. 

“Yes-- Yeah. Yeah, totally. I do want that. I fuckin’--” he laughs, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand through his hair as he looks at his feet, “I miss you already.”

Maya chuckles back and it sounds a little raspy. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “I know what you mean.”

She doesn’t know exactly if he’s referring to missing her even though she’s still standing with her hand on the doorknob or missing her because if it were a few weeks ago, he’d probably be inside her at this time of the night. 

Either way, she feels it too. 

With one last slightly shaky but still hopeful smile, she lets herself inside to dig out a sketchbook. 

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities​ @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn​ @infiniteshawn​ @mendesoft​ @singanddreamanyway​ @alone-in-madness​ @abigfatmess​ @shawnitsmutual​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @september-lace​ @sinplisticshawn​ @rollingxstone​ @yslsaint​ @randi-eve​ @fallmoreinlove​ @heyits-claire​ @itrocksmysocks​ @parkerspicedlatte​ @simpledomain​ @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day​ @thecurlsofgod​ @magcon7280​ @bensbuttercup​ @shawnsmusical​ @paigeasourous​ @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ @softmendesss​ @searchingunderthestars​ @buggy-blogs​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @siennarossi​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @umbreakablesoul​ @sleepybesson​ @shawnsheaven​ @desire-to-live​ @jillian-nd​ @shawnwyr​ @curlsofshawn​ @graysonmendes​ @tnhmblive​ @meltingicequeen​

[fandom-necromancer]

098. What did you expect?

Yeah, I said I write darker stuff when stressed... There is a happy end, I promise and there will be a more more light-hearted story afterwards.

[part 2]   [part 3]   [part 4]

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Reverse AU (Warning for the whole story: graphic description of torture, kidnapping, humiliation, past abuse, mentioned death)

Giant floodlights chased away the darkness of this cloudy night. It would rain later for sure. Richard hoped to be home before the downpour made their task any worse: because whatever they tried; they couldn’t escape the smell. Richard didn’t even want to imagine how the dump would be like when wet. His clothes already were ruined, climbing through the trash searching for any evidence there might be. Another addition to his already foul mood. Not only was the whole procedure unpleasant, the chance at finding anything useful in the heaps of trash was near zero. Who knew if that footprint was one from their suspect or just from some random scavenger looking for something salvageable? After several hours of digging through the mess, climbing into the deep Furrows in between, Richard had given up completely and just poked half-heartedly at the trash.

He climbed further up in the hope to catch some fresher air in the wind and looked over the field. Where would he go if he was a criminal? Where would he hide? Would he even still be here? Or simply lead the police here to search for nothing, while he himself ran off to God knows where. ‘Any thoughts?’ Richard shook his head, wishing for a cigarette. But at the same time, he wouldn’t want his hands anywhere near his mouth right now, even when he had worn gloves the whole time. ‘I think, we are wasting time, Connor. We will never find him in here. I hate to say it, but we lost him. Time to go back to waiting for any sign of him.’ ‘Don’t be so pessimistic, brother. We have just begun looking around.’ ‘We are combing this dump for over three hours already. How long does it take a man to traverse this shit? How long do we need to cover the whole ground? If he’s clever he hid somewhere and ran off as soon as we started digging. He is long gone.’ ‘Maybe, but he will leave a trace. Hank is already scanning the place.’ ‘Oh, come on. I know he’s an android, but even he can’t do miracles. The fugitive could have left a trail of anything belonging to him, we still wouldn’t find him. Even if there are clues, someone would have to make the decision to discern it from all the other trash. We wouldn’t find him if he dropped papers with little arrows pointing in his direction, let’s be honest.’ ‘You are frustrated, I get it. But stay focussed, okay? I know the probability of finding the man isn’t too high, but we could still find him by chance. When there are cops following you, you try to find a save place and once you found it, you wouldn’t leave it for some time, until you think it’s safe to go. He might be even hiding somewhere in between us.’

‘Have I told you, I hate your optimism? Fine. I’ll look over there.’ Richard pointed to a near trash-heap that no one had looked at yet. ‘Be careful. That’s the old Cyberlife dump. I heard some androids were still active as they were unloaded there.’

‘Connor, that’s only rumours. And even if not, I don’t think some broken machines would be much of a problem’, Richard sighed and started stomping down towards it. As he started to climb the hill, he started to regret his decision. It had something eerie about it, climbing over arms, legs and torsos, all white and smudged by dirt and oil. At least it was better than the rest of the dump: It didn’t smell as bad and without anything organic to rot, the ground was just muddy, not mouldy and full of puddles of who knows what.

In the end Connor had been right: There were some androids still active. He heard the occasional whirr of a malfunctioning motor, some words muttered under layers of other android parts, staring eyes that followed his movements. It was creepy, even for Richards standards. He reminded himself that even if something in here was to attack him, he had a fair chance at winning. They were malfunctioning and mostly dead weight. He was safe.

He had climbed down into a furrow again as it was easier to walk there and discovered some kind of valley ahead. Another sigh escaped his lips. He was tired and overworked and simply wanted to go home. A nice warm shower to get rid of the dirt and the tension, the softness of his bed, that would be heaven right now. A movement ahead made him lose all his sleepiness for a moment and refocus: There had been a vaguely human-shaped shadow ducking through some canal in the trash. What human would run through a landfill in the middle of the night? Well, could be a homeless person, but could as well be their fugitive. Happy to finally do something productive, he ran after the shadow and into the narrow canal. The walls brushed his shoulders as he ran past them, but Richard was focussed on one thing exclusively: the chase. Out of nowhere something grabbed him with enough force to rip his coat. Richard continued to plough forwards. It was most likely some kind of metal hook that had caught in the material. But soon there was another force keeping him back at the arm and this time it was a hand. He could feel the individual fingers, digging into his arm like claws. Another hand at his shoulder and Richard began to panic and struggle against the restrains, looking behind him. But there was no one holding him back, the hands were coming from the walls themselves. More and more of them grabbed onto him, some with so much force it hurt and soon there was no escape, as they pinned him in place, pulling at everything they could reach. Richard struggled regardless, keeping up the pretence of hope until there was a torso shifting out of the wall to his left: a broken android with only half a face and one arm. That one arm proved quite strong though, as the android grabbed his throat and pressed down on his windpipe with an unrelenting force.

‘Look at us! We-we-we are broken. You didididid this. Torturer! You did thi-thi-thi-this! We are. Look at us. We wa-wa-want revenge.’ Richard struggled to speak, he wanted to defend himself, but couldn’t. He was too occupied gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He listened to the broken bot’s ramblings, trying frantically to find a way out of this. But there wasn’t. His vision became blurry already, not long until the black spots would be appearing.

‘Get away from him!’ Suddenly, something knocked away the hand at his throat, leaving a bloodied scratch mark. Richard pulled in air as he hit the ground, all hands letting go of him simultaneously. Over his troubled breath he heard screaming and cursing, accompanied by the sounds of someone hitting something with a stick.

‘I would have been perfectly fine without your help, Connor, thank you very much’, he rasped out, as soon as he could talk again. ‘Yeah, I could see how fine you were, meat-bag.’ He froze. That wasn’t Connor. Richard looked up to his saviour, a face he couldn’t identify or decide if it was scarred or just dirty. Most likely both. ‘You should get out of there; these guys would kill just for the blood. Probably wouldn’t even care if it’s the right colour.’ He offered a hand and Richard took it sceptically to climb out of the canal. As he took it in his, he saw a deep red ring at the other’s temple. ‘You are an android.’ ‘Yep. And my name is definitely not Connor.’ ‘What is your name?’ ‘I’m a GV100, the only prototype there is, concept scrapped to develop the RK series, to your services. And this is my home. Come to think of it: Why the phck are you guys disturbing what should be forgotten, hm?’ ‘I’m from the police.’ ‘Yeah, I can see that, dipshit. I’m asking what you are doing here.’ ‘We are investigating a case.’ ‘Ah, come on, get phcked. As if you would find anything here.’ ‘That’s what I told my colleagues, too.’ ‘You told your colleagues to get phcked?’ ‘No. The… other thing.’ ‘Ah, well, they would deserve both.’

‘You didn’t happen to see an approximately thirty years old man, former Cyberlife engineer, blonde hairs, last seen in blue shirt and jeans, muscular,-‘ ‘Running through trash heaps in the middle of the night? Hey, cop, I am not an idiot. Of course, I’ve seen him. I even know where the asshole is.’ ‘Really? Perfect, okay, what direction? Is he armed?’ ‘Wait, wait, wait. What do I get out of this? I will only bring you to him if you don’t mention me and the police will phck off.’ ‘Once we have him, we will leave, don’t you worry.’ ‘Good. Then get a phcking move on!’

[mysteriomanifesto]

The straw that breaks the camel’s back (1 / 2)

          Having slunk back to the deserted office space, Quentin notes the remnants of party streamers and empty red party cups on some of the workstations ( sloppy ), the developer having missed out on his team’s holiday revelries in favour of working remotely from his makeshift ‘home’ before begrudgingly accepting the invitation to the party at Avengers Tower. A folded green crown consisting of flimsy tissue paper had been placed at his personal workspace ( a consolation prize ), digits taking a hold of it to bemusedly place it upon his head ( regardless of his disinclination, he needed a bit of holiday cheer ).

                    Pensively turning it over in his hand, the encrypted drive provided by Stark is inserted into the computer, the engineer settling into the office chair as caution inevitably sets in - booting up a sandboxing environment to isolate the device, the machine is disconnected from the rest of his work network ( suspicion was a terrible thing ). Dexterous fingertips glide over the keyboard and Beck begins breezing through the multitude of digital barriers that had been setup on the device, teasing breadcrumbs seemingly laid out for the developer in a manner that only he would be able to progress through, clues that echo a number of old memories during his time at Stark Industries. He would pause to reminisce but the man’s too busy enjoying the challenge at hand, each one eliciting a broadening of his smug smile until---

          A 12 minute media file is his final prize, its date of creation and modification set to Christmas Day 2017 - a curious eye casts over the title ( AC/DC - Shoot to Thrill ) before pressing play, an inward groan arising as the heavy guitars inevitably assault his senses ( he hated the aging band with a passion ). A few boredom inducing seconds pass during which the engineer considers pausing the video when the music fades, colour emerging onto a blank screen as a familiar voice candidly addresses him.

                    “Hi...” Tony faces straight into the camera, a lopsided grin coupled with a raise of his dark brow.

          Despite the men’s awkward conversation within the last few hours burdened by avoidant gazes and terse words, for a moment ( no matter how brief ) Quentin feels as if the futurist is addressing him directly with such familiarity for the first time in years. He rambles for a short period, telltale signs of anxiety hidden behind overcompensating extroverted gestures and speech patterns ( Quentin knows when Tony's nervous ), but Beck doesn't mind, finding his uneasy expression evolving into a hint of a smile - there’s a distinct swell of emotion which he had convinced himself into thinking that he no longer possessed ( fondness was a tricky thing, given their circumstances ). And then things start to get interesting...

                    “...you’ve been looking for something. I don’t know if it’s a purpose or if it’s just some guidance but I know that you were. Nobody told me… it’s just the type of person you always were. Ambitious, driven and determined to be the best...”

          Quentin stills, the complimentary words echoing assessments of the engineer over the years from a range of mentors spanning from primary school all the way up to post-grad days. However, they were often conversely counterbalanced with negative traits that he was told to work on ( egotistical, lacking empathy, hostile when challenged... ). But there's no sign of that here, instead the brunet enjoying the sensation of having his ego stroked, basking in the reverence that he always craves ( it’s what he deserves ).

                    "...you know how much of an impression you made on my life? Regardless of the work you did for my company, but also the person you are. The type of personality you have is truly captivating and ever since that day we parted ways… there was one thing that stuck with me...”

          There’s an uncomfortable pause as Tony’s expression falls, the man reciting a few key familiar sentences that see blue eyes despondently lowering in recollection.

                    “This means everything to me. I’ve given my best years to its development. I sacrificed weddings, funerals and Bar Mitzvahs. But that doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?"

          Beck bites down on his inner cheek as his own words from after the MIT demo are reflected back to him, swallowing down any undesirable sense of remorse. It wasn't his proudest moment, the man having completely lost control as impulses ran into overdrive to give the billionaire a piece of his mind, supposed negligence perceived amidst heightened paranoia. Years may have passed but Beck didn't regret doing so at the expense of their working relationship - sometimes it was best to get everything out in the open to know the true intention and feelings of others ( no matter how painfully disappointing ).

                     " ...the mere fact that you thought of me as this heartless, self-centred person. I struggled with that idea for a really long time. Not only did it strike a chord, but it also made me feel like I was truly becoming my father…" 

          Quentin's brain switches off for a moment, attention diverting to a nearby bottle of nondescript amber beverage which had been idly left there ( it might be tequila? ). If this segment of the video was going to turn into another guilt-driven digression of Tony's about Howard Stark, the brunet wouldn't be above skipping it ( he doesn't care, it's boring, get over it - he had problems with his own father but he doesn’t bitch about it all the time, not repeatedly using the broken relationship as an excuse for the decisions he makes in his life - have some accountability for fuck’s sake ). Unscrewing the cap and taking a tentative sip, Beck's features twist in shuddering distaste ( yep, definitely tequila ), soon taking another swig to help take the edge off. Good timing too as the other man's self-aware spiel about the senior Stark finally draws to an end, segueing into something of more intrigue.

                    “...nobody knows about this... This was under strict supervision… On this operating system you opened, there’s only one more file. It’s a quarter of the code you wrote for your illusion technology prototype… giving you the code is going against everything my company’s lawyers swear against---"

          The video is abruptly paused with a flick of Beck’s wrist, the unwanted distraction of the bottle pushed to one side, the emergence of a second hidden file drawing his primary attention. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the revelation ( or perhaps a combination of both ), but Quentin can feel his heart pounding against his temples, his breath quickening as blue eyes frantically scan the reams of code embedded in the system just for him. Based on what he sees, it doesn’t feel like a quarter of the code ( considerably less ), disjointed syntax missing vital elements to tie is altogether - he notes the header comments present for each section of painstakingly prolonged algorithms ( PROPERTY OF STARK INDUSTRIES ), copyright and authorship continually stripping and omitting Beck from the list of accredited developers regardless of the futurist’s words of placation. Quentin’s fist firmly clenches around the ergonomic mouse being used at the terminal, audible strain suddenly evident as one of the embedded buttons pops out of place.

                    “But I can’t hold onto something that was never truly mine. It might be a quarter, but that’s a start, right? I’ve fought tooth and nail to get everything back to you and I was told only under extreme circumstances would they allow it… So, the day I die, you get everything you’ve worked for, back. Could be tomorrow, could be in 10 years. But on that day you can have everything back. If this is not what you wanted from me---”

          Quentin had stopped listening several sentences ago, an eerie blankness to his expression that sees him slowly blink, soon stopping the video entirely - desperately scrolling back to the beginning, he watches it again. Twice. Thrice. More time is divulged poking and prodding at the inner workings of the encrypted device for hours to come ( maybe he had missed something? ), hoping to find something else that would ease this growing disquiet sensation. There’s nothing else, the man forgetting to breathe at regular intervals in his steadily flourishing rage, a pocket of air trapped at the back of his throat as his visage grows increasingly incensed.

                    Taking a hold of his phone to delve into his list of contacts while adjusting his headset, Beck’s thinly veiled resolve completely crumbles and something finally snaps.

[ PART 2 ]

[laallomri]

[fic for keithtober, from these prompts]

[day 6: found family. keith and lance give shiro a pep talk so he can propose to adam. afterward, the whole team celebrates]

Shiro looks like he’s gonna throw up.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he says frantically, pacing back and forth on the rug. “I’m gonna walk up to Adam, and look into his eyes, and then throw up all over his shoes, and then he’ll hate me, and he’ll dump me, and I’ll never see him again, and I’ll die of despair.”

Keith blinks. He looks over at Lance, who shrugs.

“Seems accurate,” he says.

Keith frowns and elbows him. They’re in the living room of his and Lance’s apartment, sitting on the couch and watching an increasingly panicked Shiro pace in front of the coffee table.

“You’re supposed to be helpful,” Keith admonishes. “Not encouraging him in”—he waves a hand at Shiro—“this.”

“I mean, he really does look like he’s gonna be sick,” Lance points out. “And honestly, I’d be like that too if I were about to propose.”

“Which you won’t,” Keith adds, “cause I’m gonna do it first.”

Lance narrows his eyes at him. “Are not.”

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“Am too.”

“Are NOT—”

“Please!” Shiro interrupts. He stops pacing and stands in front of the coffee table, one arm crossed and his other hand at his temple. “You can argue later. I need help.”

“Sorry,” they say in unison. 

Lance leans back against the couch cushions. Keith leans forward, trying to put together the right words. Shiro resumes pacing, seeming even more panicked than before.

“Look,” Keith says finally. Shiro glances at him, though he keeps pacing. “You’ve known Adam for years. You’ve dated for—fuck, I don’t even know how long. Do you count the time before Voltron?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t, you’ve dated for years. You live together. You spend all your time together. He’s not gonna say no.”

“Yeah,” Lance adds earnestly. “He loves you, man. He looks at you the way I look at garlic knots.”

“That’s kind of ominous,” Keith says. “You make it sound like Adam wants to eat him.”

“Hm.” Lance strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, he did once call Shiro a snacc.”

Shiro stops pacing and frowns at him.

“Never mind that,” Lance says quickly. “The point is”—he gets up, goes around the coffee table, and flings an arm around Shiro’s shoulders, like he’s about to confide to him a huge secret—“Adam loves you. It’s understandable to be nervous, but he’s not gonna say no. He’s gonna say yes, and then give you a big ol’ kiss, and then you can go plan your wedding, and you have to promise to include us because I love wedding planning and I haven’t gotten to be involved in one since Marco got married last year.”

Shiro looks at him. He looks at Keith, who nods.

“Everything he said,” he says. “Adam loves you.”

“Adam loves me,” Shiro repeats, sounding calmer.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” Lance adds.

“I’m not gonna throw up,” Shiro repeats.

“He’s gonna say yes,” Keith continues.

“He’s gonna say yes,” Shiro says. He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t look so pale anymore, to Keith’s relief. “Thank you both.”

“No problem,” Lance says. He moves his arm around so he can hug Shiro properly. “It’s gonna be great. Go get your man!”

Keith jumps up to hug him, too. He wishes he could say more, wishes he were better at talking so he could tell Shiro just how much this means to him, tell him that despite his and Lance’s ribbing, they’re both ridiculously happy for him, tell him that to be worried at all is absurd, because the fact of Adam loving Shiro is as simple and unshakeable as the fact of Keith loving Lance.

But he can’t say all of that, can’t say any of it, so he just squeezes Shiro as tight as he can, and says, “Good luck,” and smiles at him as Shiro pulls on his coat and shoves on his boots and marches out the door as if he’s going into battle.

(Keith sees the answering smile on his face, though, sees that it’s only half directed at him and Lance, sees that it’s softer, like he’s already wherever Adam is right now, like he’s thinking of him and the question he’s going to ask and the answer he knows he will receive. Keith supposes it makes sense; doesn’t he still feel like he’s with Lance even with they’re apart, like a part of his mind and his soul is stuck wherever Lance is, no matter where Keith’s body is?)

(you’re so fucking corny nowadays, his mind says, rolling its eyes)

(good, says another part, firmly. better corny than angry, or alone, or sad)

He sits back down on the couch. Lance has already collapsed onto it, so Keith stretches out his legs, putting them in Lance’s lap. Lance pokes at his ankles.

“That’s gonna be me someday,” he says at length, his eyes flicking to the door.

“No it won’t,” Keith says, smirking, “cause that’s gonna be me someday.”

Lance makes as if to slam his fists down on Keith’s calves like they’re a tabletop, but at the last second he pulls back, so they land gently on the fabric of his sweatpants. “It will not!” he half shouts, indignant. “I’ll propose to you first!”

“Will not.”

“Will too!”

“Will not!”

“Will TOO!”

.^.

Adam says yes, of course.

“What’d we tell you!” Lance yells, pumping his fist into the air when Shiro calls them a couple hours later to tell them the news. “You had no reason to be nervous!”

“Thank you again,” Shiro says. Even on the tiny screen of his phone, Keith can see the sheer delight on his face, bright and pure and unbridled. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Shiro smile so big. “I’m sorry I bothered you both.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” Keith assures him, as Lance nods. “We love you. We want you to be happy.”

There’s a voice off screen. Shiro turns to listen, then turns back to the screen, beaming even bigger than before.

“Adam says to come over and we’ll celebrate,” he says. “We’re going to call everyone else, too.”

Lance’s brow crinkles. “Don’t you want to be alone?”

“Adam’s happy-cooking,” Shiro says, with an affectionate eye roll. “He’s going to end up making enough dinner for a dozen people, so we might as well feed everyone.”

They can’t argue in the face of Adam happy-cooking, so they pull on their jackets and head over to Shiro and Adam’s apartment. The timing is fortunate; Krolia and the Alteans are visiting after a few months doing diplomacy work up in space, and Hunk is back in town after visiting his family, so for the first time in half a year, the whole team is back together again.

Keith sits on the rug in the living room, laughing at Krolia and Coran’s imitation of the stuffy diplomat they met with last week and sneaking bites of food to the space mice and Kosmo, who spent the last few days with Pidge as she stayed home alone to work on projects for the Garrison. Pidge rambles on about said projects, and Hunk talks about the research he’s doing for his mechanical engineering degree, and Lance tells them about his and Keith’s Adventure To Paint The Living Room Blue, followed by the subsequent Adventure To Get Paint Off The Furniture They Forgot To Cover. Allura and Romelle talk about the trip they went on for their anniversary last month, and Shiro makes fun of his own pre-proposal worries, and Adam shows the ring to the Alteans, who are very curious about earth engagement rituals. 

It’s noisy and chaotic and the small living room is full to bursting, and Keith knows that in a while he’ll start to tire out, but for now he looks at this full room, brightened by the people in it, and his heart feels like it is full to bursting.

Lance is sitting next to him on the rug. He nudges Lance’s knee with his own, then reaches out and takes his hand. Lance smiles at him and laces their fingers together, settling their entwined hands on his knee.

“You okay?” he whispers, under the sound of Allura and Romelle roasting Coran for the outfit he wore to their last meeting.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He looks at everyone again, looks at these people who he would do anything for and would do anything for him, looks at this odd group that has become his family.

He looks at everyone, happy and laughing and together, and then his gaze lands on Lance once more, meets eyes that are bright and brown and never fail to make him feel warm.

“Yeah,” he says again, and smiles back. “I’m just really happy, that’s all.”

[mistrstank]

I have an idea for an Ironhusbands prompt. There's all these stories about Tony having nightmares and Rhodey comforting him, but what if it was reversed. What if Rhodey has nightmares about not being able to find Tony in IM1, or Tony dying when his house was destroyed in IM3, or something that happened in any of the other Avengers movies or Civil war. And Tony comforts him.

OKAY! Now that I have crawled my way out from under Open Hearts, Open Doors let’s do this! *rubs hands together*

First of all, I’m so excited someone sent me a prompt you have no idea. *vibrates excitedly*

Second of all, iron husbands!

Read it on Ao3 or below!

It happens for the first time just after Afghanistan. Tony is awake and has been for longer than he cares to count (JARVIS, the little bitch, is quick to remind him), buried in the workshop pulling together the fragments of an idea.

“Sir, Lieutenant Rhodes is on the phone.” JARVIS intones and Tony blinks owlishly around the workshop, waiting for the haze of numbers and formulas to settle.

“What? Oh, put him through.” He waves a distracted hand and pushes away from the workbench, rolling idly across the workshop on his stool.

“ T-Tony?” Rhodey’s voice echoes around the workshop, and he sounds wrong.

“ Sugarbear, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Please don’t tell me you’re in some military hospital somewhere being poked by second rate medical monkeys.” Tony knows his tone is all wrong; too sharp by far, but his heart is pounding so hard he swears he can feel it hitting the arc reactor casing.

“ Where are you?” Rhodey doesn’t sound like he even heard the off colour joke, and if that isn’t an indicator, Tony isn’t a billionaire.

“Honeyblossom, puddin’ pop, where I always am! Working away in my little ca- uh, house of wonders! I’m more concerned about where you are?”

“M’apartment? I was dreaming. You were gone and I couldn’t find you and I just wanted to. I just wanted to call.” Rhodey’s voice steadies a little, but he still sounds sad and shocky and wrong. Tony can’t remember ever having heard Rhodey sound like this and it’s both extremely gratifying and utterly terrifying. Tony would never like to repeat this experience, thank you.

“Well hey!” He says, falsely bright. “Why don’t you help me out with an issue I’ve been having with the Roadster’s engine. I had this idea, see...”

There’s a shuffling on the other end of the phone, what Tony assumes is Rhodey settling back into bed, but Tony doesn’t pause in his rambling.

It takes about an hour, but eventually the only sound from the phone is quiet snoring, and Tony hangs up with a smile.

~x~

After the Palladium incident, Tony takes to wearing v neck or unbuttoned shirts whenever Rhodey’s around and they both try to ignore the way Rhodey’s eyes seem continually drawn to the reactor. Once, Rhodey even traces a hand from Tony’s neck downwards, following the skin that once wore the marks of Palladium poisoning.

“ Please, Tony.” Rhodey whispers and his eyes are wet. Tony pretends not to know what he’s asking for, but they both know.

He wants to promise he won’t leave Rhodey behind, won’t go somewhere his best friend can’t follow.

He knows it for the lie it is, though.

~x~

After New York, Rhodey calls him every night for a week. The first time he tells Tony in hitching gasps about seeing the Iron Man armour disappearing into a hole in the sky; after that sends Tony very promptly into a panic attack, they don’t talk about it.

They just talk to each other, clinging to the soft sounds of life through a phone line.

~x~

Rhodey gets the phone call to say Tony’s been killed in a terrorist attack, though Tony doesn’t find out until later. He’s drifting aimlessly around the penthouse of Avengers Tower, trying not to remember the expression on Maya’s face right before she died, or the way Pepper screamed as she fell. They’re on a ‘break’, now, and Tony can’t blame her.

He’s a piping hot mess, he knows he is, but everything is so fucked up now he wouldn’t even know where to start fixing it.

The elevator door slides open behind him and Rhodey strides in, looking pale and tense. Tony blinks and opens his mouth to say something pithy, but the words die unspoken as Rhodey crashes into him. Tony stands for a moment in stunned surprise as Rhodey presses his face into the side of Tony’s neck, hard arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist. His shirt pulls uncomfortably at the back, where Rhodey has it twisted up in a desperate grip.

“Hey, Sugarplum, the bed in your apartment not cutting it? I can sympathise.” He tries, treading carefully because Rhodey looks like he’s about to lose it and Tony doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to panic, but then he figures: what would Rhodey do if it was Tony?

At a loss, Tony slides his arms around Rhodey’s back and clutches just as hard. Rhodey’s grip loses a little of it’s desperation, turns a little less into clinging and a little more like an embrace. Tony shuffles them gently over to the couch, but Rhodey fights him when he tries to get them sitting. Instead Rhodey sits and yanks at Tony until he’s practically in Rhodey’s lap. On his best day Tony wouldn’t deny this position hasn’t featured in some of his very, very, very private fantasies, but that doesn’t seem to be the mood Rhodey’s going for…

Rhodey shifts a little and rests his head against Tony’s chest just to the side of the reactor, arms now loosely wrapped around Tony’s waist, and he gets it.

“I just, I need a minute Tones, I’m sorry. I can’t sleep.”

Tony thinks of telling Pepper he couldn’t sleep for fear of not being able to protect the most important person in his life, and wonders.

~x~

After Ultron, Tony is...Fragile, in a way he can barely admit to himself, let alone anyone else. It’s like Afghanistan all over again, only this time he can’t fix it. He nearly destroyed the world, killed countless people, again. He finds himself pacing around the tower, stepping around broken glass and the remnants of everything.

He’s alone, again, and he doesn’t know why he’s surprised; isn’t this always how his life turns out?

He doesn’t even notice when Rhodey arrives, at first. He’s too busy staring at the broken lines of code that was JARVIS. Now it’s just the echoes left behind, after Ultron’s attack and Vision’s creation. His, well his son is gone and it’s Tony’s fault. He remembers reading, somewhere, that no parent should have to outlive their child.

But Tony’s not just outliving JARVIS, he killed him.

“Tones,” The voice is soft enough it somehow doesn’t startle him, his subconscious registering Rhodey’s presence without him realising it. Tony doesn’t turn but he angles his head a little, an acknowledgement that he knows Rhodey’s there.

Seconds later and arms slide around him, warm and familiar. He’s tugged backwards against Rhodey’s chest, warm flesh and a steady heartbeat to anchor himself to. Rhodey chafes his arms gently, his hands big and so warm, a bony chin coming to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

For the first time in his life, Tony finds he has nothing to say.

~x~

Standing in a hospital waiting room, Tony can’t help but feel bitterly resigned to the fact that somewhere, someone is laughing at his expense. At this point, he figures he has to believe in a higher power, because how else could everything he do so consistently turn to shit. The Avengers have fallen apart, with over half of them arrested, two missing and the remainder not talking to him. But that’s not the worst, because of course it isn’t. The worst is Rhodey, who’d clung to his hand and stared up at him with eyes blown wide in fear.

Who’d whispered ‘Tony, I can’t feel my legs’ as hospital staff surrounded the gurney and started tugging him away.

God, Rhodey couldn’t feel his legs. Tony’s struck by the simultaneous urge to scream and cry; fucking Steve Rogers and his righteous crusade.

“Mr Stark?” Tony turns immediately to face a smiling nurse, standing poised in the doorway. “He’s asking for you.”

He almost trips in his hurry to cross the waiting room, but the nurse only smiles sympathetically and turns back down the hallway. It seems an interminably long walk, with Tony just barely keeping the pile of questions stoppered behind his teeth. Eventually, he’s shown into a hospital room, the huge window looking out onto a small garden. He barely gives the view a glance, his attention immediately arrested by Rhodey.

Rhodey, lying flat in the bed and paler than Tony has ever seen him. Tony crosses the room and sits on the edge, leaning down. Almost simultaneously they embrace, clinging tight to one another. Rhodey presses his face into the space between Tony’s shoulder and neck, and through their embrace Tony can feel the way Rhodey trembles.

“Spinal injury; they said I’m paralyzed, Tony.” Rhodey murmurs, just loud enough for Tony to hear. The words take a moment to sink in and when they do it feels like Tony’s world cracks in half.

His Rhodey is paralyzed.

“Oh God,” Tony whispers, before he can bite the words back. Rhodey nods against his neck and Tony pretends he can’t feel the wetness against his skin. “We’ll fix it, boo-bear.”

“You can’t build your way out of this, Tones.” The words are harsh and grating; Tony expects Rhodey to be angry, to hate him. But there’s no accusation in Rhodey’s voice, just a quiet kind of despair that breaks Tony’s heart. “I’m useless, now.”

“ Watch me. ” Tony whispers fiercely. “Rhodey, I don’t care if you can’t walk, you are not useless. Ever. I’ll always need you, but if you need it, then I will fix this, do you understand me?” Tony leans upright to put some distance between them and forces their eyes to meet. Rhodey’s are wet with the threat of tears, but Tony couldn’t care less. “I’ll build you a whole new fucking spine if I have to, you got me?”

Rhodey laughs wetly, tips his forehead against Tony’s. “Yeah, man, I get you.”

They curl together in Rhodey’s hospital bed, huddling for comfort like they haven’t since they were in college. Rhodey is warm against Tony’s side and pressed this close, Tony can feel the reassuring beat of his heart.

“Any word on Cap and Barnes?” Rhodey asks after a short silence. Tony hums quietly and drums his fingers against the place the reactor used to sit.

“Not as such, no. I think they might have been telling the truth about the UN bombing, though. Looks like Barnes was set up.”

“You goin’ after them?” Rhodey lifts his head and turns a little to catch Tony’s eye. Tony chews his lip in silence for a moment, and then shakes his head.

“No, I’m not leaving you.” He decides, eventually. “Someone else can deal with the mess, for once.”

Rhodey doesn’t say anything for some time, staring at Tony in silence long enough for Tony to start fidgeting. “You should go. He’s your friend, too.”

“Rhodey, you-”

“I’m fine.” Rhodey interrupts firmly and Tony knows the stubborn glint in his eye. “I hate this, and I hate I can’t go with you to watch your back, but it’s the world, man.”

“It’s always the world,” Tony huffs bitterly. “You’d think it would stay saved for five minutes.” He pushes slowly, reluctantly to his feet and hates everything about his life in that moment. Rhodey nods at him and flashes a wobbly smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Tony, wait!” Rhodey calls just as Tony reaches the door. Tony stops and turns to the sight of Rhodey reaching a desperate hand in his direction. He crosses back to Rhodey immediately, catching his hand and squeezing it warmly. “I’ll be honest, I’ve got a real bad feelin’ about all this, and it feels like every time I’m not lookin’ you’re almost dyin’. So, I’m gonna say it because I feel like I’m gonna lose my chance.”

“Honeypie, you’re not making a whole lot of sense, here. Say what?”

Rhodey tugs on his hand, and keeps tugging until Tony leans down to meet him. The other hand comes up behind Tony’s neck, and a moment later they’re...They’re kissing.

Tony’s brain screeches to a very abrupt halt and then starts racing. Rhodey is kissing him.

Rhodey is kissing him.

Rhodey’s lips are warm and soft, coaxing a response rather than demanding one. Tony groans lowly in the back of his throat and presses into the contact, his free hand cupping over Rhodey’s shoulder. The kiss seems to go on forever and at the same time, it’s over too quickly. They spend a few precious seconds hovering close, breath warm in the scant space between them.

“When you get back, we’re gonna talk about this.” Rhodey states.

“Uh huh.” Tony mumbles, only half paying attention to the words.

“Go save Captain America, hero.” Rhodey’s smiling, now; the first real smile Tony’s seen yet.

Tony goes, reluctantly.

Later, lying alone in a Siberian bunker, he’ll wish he’d paid more attention to Rhodey’s ‘bad feeling’. He’ll think of that moment in a well lit hospital room, with Rhodey’s lips on his, and wish he’d stayed.

~x~

Floating through space in a crumbling spaceship isn’t really how Tony pictured himself going, but considering the number of near death experiences he’s managed to acquire in the past few years…

Well, he supposes it isn’t the worst way to go. Nebula hasn’t given up; she’s still desperately trying to patch up the ship, but it feels like for everything they fix, something else breaks. Tony wants to help, but everything feels a little fuzzy. He knows it’s the dehydration and the starvation combined, knows it’s slowing his thoughts. He can’t remember the last time he slept.

He misses Rhodey.

He wonders if Rhodey’s even still alive; half the universe is gone, now, thanks to Thanos. Statistically, the odds that Rhodey’s alive aren’t...Well, they aren’t great.

He stares blankly at the Iron Man helmet in his hands. The eye slits are glowing a faint blue. He thinks he might have been recording a final message.

He doesn’t remember what he was saying.

“‘M tired, Rhodey.” He mumbles, blinking sluggishly. “Jus’ wanna rest.”

He blinks again, and realises he’s staring at the roof of the ship. When did he lie down? He doesn’t remember doing that, but now that he’s stretched out, it feels so nice. Maybe he could just take a little nap, and when he woke up he could help Nebula.

The ship feels like it’s rocking and the motion is oddly soothing. Tony’s eyes slip slowly closed, his brain distantly registering the tortured shriek of metal without worrying over the significance.

He drifts, for a while; floating in a haze, feeling nothing but the cool metal beneath him. The hunger and thirst fades to the back of his mind. The next thing he becomes aware of is blazing warmth on either side of his face. Tony’s eyes snap open and he finds himself staring up at Rhodey.

He knows the smile that stretches across his face probably looks ridiculous. “‘M hallucinating.” He tells dream Rhodey, who frowns down at him. “Glad s’you.”

Rhodey’s eyes are bright and it takes Tony’s sluggish brain far too long to realise they’re wet with tears. Even then, he only realises because one drops on his face. The splash of wet to his cheek jolts him, and Tony belatedly realises Rhodey is here.

“I got ya, Tones. I got ya.” Rhodey is whispering as he hauls Tony upright. Tony presses into the contact, finds himself folded into a familiar embrace. The lips that press urgently against his own isn’t as familiar, but it’s so welcome. “God, I love you.” Rhodey near sobs and Tony clings with what little strength he has.

Half the rest of the universe might be gone, and somewhere inside that still hurts more than Tony can process. But for right now? The most important part of his universe is here.

[s-nebul0sa]

32 pleeeaase

It became a Danvers sisters thing instead of supercorp but I hope you won’t mind.

Prompt: “I locked the keys in the car.”

“You’re late,” Alex states, arms folded over each other and legs a little more than hip-width apart. A small breeze plays with her short hair as she somehow manages to look down on Kara even though she’s shorter. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I brought donuts.” Kara nearly trips as she tries to push the box beneath Alex’s nose. 

Alex appraises her, taking in the only half-buttoned shirt and Kara’s messy hair. “I don’t want to hear it. You and Lena are so much worse than Maggie and I ever were.”

“We didn’t- nothing- Lena and I- I overslept!” Kara rambles, the tips of her ears turning red. 

“Save it, potstickers. Lena parked the car in the front?” Alex inquires as she takes a donut. 

“Yes, yes she did.”

“Okay, and she gave you the keys?”

“Yes, she handed them to me.”

“Why are you talking so strange?” Alex squints her eyes, staring suspiciously at Kara.

“Nothing. No reason. How was your date last night?” Kara asks in an attempt to change the topic. 

For some reason, it seems to work.

“It was really nice, actually. We actually really clicked. Dinner was a complete disaster but we just laughed that away and that only made it more perfect. Good thing she knew a good place to get desserts after and we ended up in a super sweet place. I’m totally going to take you one day. She was so nice and I never had to put in any effort to keep the conversation going, it just happened. We already have a new date scheduled right after we get back from mom.”

“That sounds awesome!” Kara cheers. “What’s her name?”

“Nope, no names until at least the third date. I don’t want you to go all creepy sister on her and stalk her on facebook and linkedin and wherever.” 

“I would never.” Kara pretends to look offended, her mouth agape and a hand held to her heart. The seriousness of the expression completely losing its effect due to the sugar and icing on her cheeks. Alex can’t help laugh at her.

“So you didn’t digitally stalk Claire after our date?” 

“No. I researched her. I want to make sure you’re dating someone who deserves you, not some low-life criminal.” 

“Kara, she was a kindergarten teacher. I’m pretty sure if she had a criminal record she’d have been fired from her job.”

“Well, better safe than sorry. It’s my job as a sister to make sure you’re dating someone worthy.”

“It is not. I can handle myself fine.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too.”

“Cahbbot,” Kara repeats, this time with her mouth stuffed full with another donut.

“I’m director of a government organisation, I can too handle it fine.”

“Then it’s revenge.”

“What? Because I did a background check of Lena when you started to talk about her 24/7?”

“Yes.”

“Pfff.” Alex snatches the last donut from the box right before Kara’s fingers touch it. 

“Hey!”

“We need to leave. We’re super late already. We can talk more in the car.”

“Err, I have to throw away the box first,” Kara stalls, slowly walking to the furthest trash can she can see.

“Kara,” Alex chides, foot impatiently tapping on the floor, “hurry up.”

“The environment is important, Alex. I need to recycle.”

“Can’t you recycle with super speed? I don’t want to miss mom’s pie. This isn’t like you. You’re always way too eager to leave for mom because she cooks you tonnes of food.”

“I want to save my energy in case of an emergency.”

“You never save your energy. You’re Kara, you don’t do that.”

“This is the new Kara.” Kara jolts her head a little and looks up, puffing her chest out and standing firmly on both legs. 

“Does the new Kara not want mom’s chocolate pecan pie?”

“She does!” Kara slackens her posture and smiles brightly, pulling Alex along down the stairs and to the front of the building. They stop in front of Lena’s car, loaned to them for their trip to Midvale because J’onn refuses to let Kara drive in his car after the last trip. 

“Oh, right.” Kara mutters. Her face falls and she stares at the vehicle. 

“Are you going to unlock it?” Alex walks around the black car and checks it out. It’s a nice one, she has to admit. Lena has class. 

“I would,” Kara trails off. 

“You would?”

“I would but-”

“But what, Kara?!” 

“But I locked the keys in the car.”

Alex grumbles loudly and hits her palm to her forehead. Of course Kara locked the keys inside. 

“Does Lena have spare keys?”

“Yes.”

“Call your damn girlfriend and get those keys so we can leave.”

“I would but-”

“Arggh, not more buts. What now?”

“But she’s in a plane to Asia now.”

“Okay, so you locked the keys inside the car. The spare keys are in Lena’s apartment and Lena is, with the keys to said apartment, on her way to the other side of the planet?”

“That about summarises it, yes,” Kara acknowledges. 

“Fine. Wait here.” Alex lifts her finger to Kara and points at her feet and the spot she’s currently standing. 

Too afraid to even move a single muscle, Kara watches Alex’s back retreat into the building they just exited. She waits several minutes, fighting the urge to move. It’s nearly impossible. She’s Kryptonian. She has too much energy to stand still. It’s unfair. And to top it all off, the sun starts appearing from behind a light cloud and brightly shines down upon her, feeding her cells even more energy. Just when she feels like she’s about to burst from excess energy, Alex appears from the building again. In her hands, there’s a duffle bag. 

Without a single word, Alex gets to work. She drops the bag on the floor and takes a long wide but thin piece of metal from it. Kara doesn’t dare ask why Alex has a duffle bag with car jacking gear in her apartment.

“Can I move again?” she asks impatiently. 

“Yes.” Alex doesn’t bother to look up, too focussed on the task in front of her.

Kara lets out a long breath and starts jumping up and down slightly. Watching Alex is boring, it’s slow and precise work. Kara needs fast. 

“I’ll be right back,” is all she says before running away. Running at human speed is slow but it’s better than standing still and watching. Especially because she’ll have to sit still in a car for hours once Alex has managed to get them in. 

“Are you ready yet?” Kara asks after her first round around the block.

“Not yet.”

Not wanting to wait and watch, she starts another round. 

Once again asking, “Are you ready yet?” when she reaches Alex.

“No.”

Another round.

Another, “Are you ready yet?”

“No”

A fourth round.

“Are you ready yet?”

“Stop asking. I’ll tell you when I am.”

“Okay.”

Round five.

Six.

Seven. 

Eight.

“I’m done. Now please stop driving me crazy.”

“Yay!” Kara stops running and claps her hands at Alex’s amazing work. 

“I’ll just put these away and then we can leave. Don’t touch anything.”

‘Don’t touch anything’ is a lot easier than ‘don’t move’. Unless Alex meant the ground too. Or her clothes. Glasses. She’s actually touching a lot. Alex didn’t mean the stuff she’s wearing and the ground she’s standing on, right? Because she can only stop touching stuff if she’s naked and flying and she can’t do either in public. Eliza, Jeremiah and Alex had all been clear about that.

Before Kara can spiral into an existential crisis about what she can and cannot touch and how to achieve that without breaking any rules, Alex returns again. 

Alex gets in on the drivers side and, when Kara doesn’t follow, opens the door on the passenger side and leans over the seat. 

“Come on, slow poke. Let’s get some pie!”

“Pie!” Kara doesn’t let Alex tell her that twice and leaps into the car. She closes the door behind her and quickly buckles up while Alex starts the engine.