Aug 12, 2025
I get like one person asking me out/confessing to me a week.
Im just sitting here I my bedroom.
What the fuck how is this happening??????
I have game????
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I get like one person asking me out/confessing to me a week.
Im just sitting here I my bedroom.
What the fuck how is this happening??????
I have game????
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GUYS GUYS SHE SAID YES
I mean I did say I wanted to make a comic
rough sketch, done on Magma
Derpy Pomni in the first frame :3
Hang out or Hang out
Lance realizes he’s in trouble about ten minutes into watching Todd eat cold pizza over the sink.
It starts stupid. It always does, with him.
Todd’s in pajama pants that used to be plaid before the pattern gave up, shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair doing… whatever that is. He’s got his foot braced against the cabinet door, one hand on the counter, the other shoving pizza into his mouth like he’s in a competition no one else entered.
There’s grease on his cheek. He doesn’t notice.
Lance is halfway through the kitchen before it hits him like a brick: oh. Oh, this is a thing.
His heart does something annoying in his chest. His brain, of course, decides to quit entirely.
You’re not thirteen, dude, he tells himself. You’re eighteen. You have survived earthquakes, Magneto, Pietro’s cooking attempts. You can handle asking a guy out.
His palms are sweating.
He leans against the doorway, trying to look casual and not like he’s about to pass out.
Todd glances up mid-bite, eyes bright. “Yo, Alvers. You just gonna lurk or you want some?” He holds the pizza box out like an offering. “It’s only mostly congealed, I swear.”
Lance snorts, crossing his arms to hide the way his hands are shaking. “I’ll pass on the biohazard, thanks.”
Todd shrugs, unbothered. “More for me, man.” He stuffs the rest of the slice in his mouth, cheeks puffing out like a frog, and turns back toward the sink.
Lance watches his back, the slope of his shoulders, the way the too-big shirt hangs off him. The inside of his chest feels like a dryer with too many shoes in it.
Just say it.
“Hey, uh. Toad.” His voice comes out rougher than he meant. He clears his throat. “You busy Friday?”
Smooth. Totally normal. Not weird at all.
Todd pauses, hand halfway to the box. “Friday?” He licks sauce off his thumb, squinting over his shoulder. “What, like, this Friday? Or, like, a theoretical Friday in the future, ‘cause time is fake an’ all that?”
Lance blinks. “What? No. This Friday.”
“Oh.” Todd shrugs. “I’unno. Prob’ly nothin’ important. Why? You finally gonna help me steal that popcorn machine from the mall? ‘Cause I been sayin’, it’d really elevate the whole living room vibe—”
“No.” The word comes out too quick, too sharp. Lance winces. “I mean. No. Not… that.”
Todd turns around fully now, leaning his hip against the counter, arms loosely folded, head tipped. He’s listening. That’s worse somehow.
Lance can feel his ears heating up. He pushes his hair back, touches the back of his neck like that’s gonna cool him off. “I was thinking, y’know. Maybe. If you wanted to. We could—”
His brain blanks.
Abort mission. You do not know how to talk to people. You have never successfully talked to anyone in your life.
“We could what?” Todd prompts, grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. It’s curious, not mean. That makes it so much more humiliating.
Lance stares at the chipped tile over Todd’s shoulder. “Hang out. Or whatever.”
Todd snorts. “Dude, we live in the same house. We hang out, like, every day. You literally fling me off the couch when you wanna sit down. That counts as a bonding activity in my book.”
Lance makes a face. “Yeah, but that’s just… There’s, like, a difference. Between hanging out and hanging out.”
Great. Very clear. Flawless communication skills.
Todd blinks. “You know those sounded the same, right?”
“Yeah, well, they’re not,” Lance mutters, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. His heart is pounding so loud he’s sure Todd can hear it. “I mean—like, not here. Not with Blob snoring through the walls and Tabby trying to blow us up for fun. Just. Me and you. Somewhere else. Doing… something.”
Todd’s eyebrows jump. “Ohhh.” He drags the sound out, smirk starting to form. “Somethin’, huh?”
Lance’s stomach drops clean through the floor. “Not—okay, not that, I mean. Unless you want—that is not what I—” He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Forget it, this is stupid.”
He turns like he’s going to leave, because that’s what he does: bury the feeling, walk it off, pretend it never happened and then lie awake all night thinking about it until he wants to jump out a window.
Todd’s voice comes quick, a little softer. “Whoa, hey, chill, man. I’m just messin’ with you.” There’s the scrape of cardboard against the counter as he pushes the pizza aside. “You’re bein’ all vague an’ mysterious, which, like, mad props for the dramatic flair, but you gotta finish the sentence, dude.”
Lance stops but doesn’t turn around yet. His shoulders are tight enough to crack. He exhales, long and shaky.
Just say it. If he laughs, he laughs. You’ll survive. Probably.
He spins back, leaning against the opposite counter so there’s something solid at his back. He feels like if he’s not touching something, he might float right out of his skin.
“Alright, listen.” He points at Todd, words tumbling out too fast now that the dam’s cracked. “If I say this, you don’t get to make it weird, alright? Or tell the others. Or—like—ever talk about it again unless I start it.”
Todd’s grin softens into something more careful. “Okay,” he says easily, hands up in a little surrender. “Scout’s honor or whatever.”
Lance gives him a flat look. “You were never a scout.”
“Yeah, ‘cause they wouldn’ta let a dude with my tongue in, but point stands, man.” Todd shrugs. “Just say it.”
Lance stares at him for three horrible seconds.
“I wanna take you out,” he blurts. “On Friday.”
Silence.
The words hang there between them like he just dropped a brick on the table. Lance can hear the fridge humming, the faint TV down the hall, his own pulse in his ears.
Todd blinks once. Twice.
Lance rushes to fill the quiet. “I mean, like, not out-out, unless you want it to be out-out, in which case, yeah, that’s—that’s what I meant, but if you don’t, then it’s just, like, two bros doing… structured hanging out, I guess, with, like, food. And maybe a movie. Not, like, a date movie, unless—”
“Lance,” Todd cuts in, and he’s smiling now, slow and warm. “Dude.”
Lance’s mouth snaps shut. His face feels like it’s on fire.
Todd tilts his head, eyes flicking over him. The grin that spreads across his face is bright and a little stunned. “You’re cute, man,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s just now letting himself say it out loud. “Yeah, let’s go out.”
Lance’s brain short-circuits.
He actually says, “…huh?” out loud, because apparently he’s decided to fully commit to being pathetic.
Todd laughs, a quick, delighted sound. He pushes away from the counter and hops up to sit on it, heels kicking lightly against the cabinets. “You heard me. Yes.” He points two fingers at Lance. “Date. Friday. Me, you. Maybe somewhere that ain’t got mold on the ceiling.”
“You—you’re serious.” Lance straightens up, searching his face for the joke, the punchline, the trap.
Todd rolls his eyes. “Yeah, man. I’m serious. Why’re you actin’ like I ain’t been makin’ gross heart eyes at you for, like, a year?”
“You have not,” Lance protests automatically, because if he doesn’t, his heart might actually explode.
Todd snorts. “Bro, I literally wrote your name on my chem notebook with little skulls around it. That’s, like, my version of hearts.” He shrugs, suddenly shy around the edges. “Plus, y’know. You’re, like, the only one who actually checks if I made it home when I disappear for a night. Kinda a big tell.”
Lance blinks at him, the words sinking in slow. “I just—look, I didn’t think you were—”
“Into dudes?” Todd supplies, one brow raised.
Lance rubs the back of his neck. “Into me,” he mutters.
Todd’s expression softens. He nudges Lance’s leg with his foot. “Yeah, well. Surprise, I guess.” He grins again, toothy and warm. “Told ya you’re cute.”
Lance’s mouth twitches, traitorously close to a smile. “You keep saying that, I might start believing you.”
“Good.” Todd shrugs, like that’s that. “You should.”
They stand there for a second in the kind of quiet that isn’t suffocating for once. Lance can breathe. His chest still feels weird, but in a way that’s more like something unfolding than collapsing.
“So.” Todd swings his feet. “What’s the plan, lover boy? You got, like, an actual idea or were you just hopin’ the universe would do the rest?”
Lance snorts. The embarrassment is still there, but it’s looser now, wrapped up in something almost light. “I was thinking we could hit that crappy arcade on 5th. The one that’s technically still open even though half the machines are broken.”
Todd’s eyes light up. “Yo, the one with the janky-ass racing game where the steering wheel comes off if you turn too hard?”
“That’s the one.”
“Lance, that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever suggested to me,” Todd says solemnly. Then he ruins it by grinning. “You buyin’ me those neon slushies, too? ‘Cause I’m a cheap date, but I ain’t free.”
Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Toad. I’ll buy you a slushie.”
“Two slushies,” Todd corrects. “I’m tryna get brain freeze and make out with you at the same time. For science.”
Lance chokes. “That is—wow, okay, we’re just—going right there, huh?”
Todd shrugs, smug. “Hey, you asked me out, man. You don’t get to act shocked I said yes enthusiastically.”
Lance can’t help it; he laughs, the sound rough but real. “You’re unreal.”
“Yeah, but I’m your unreal now, apparently.” Todd hops off the counter and steps closer, tilting his head up to meet Lance’s eyes. He’s right there, close enough Lance can see the stray flecks of gold in his irises. “We can start slow if you want. Just hang out. Hold hands. Throw popcorn at Blob when he snores too loud.”
Lance swallows. His voice comes out quieter. “Yeah. I, uh. I’d like that.”
Todd’s smile softens, losing some of its usual sharpness. “Cool.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against Lance’s chest. “Then it’s a date.”
Lance looks down at him and realizes, with a strange, almost dizzy certainty, that he’s not as scared as he was ten minutes ago. Still nervous, sure. Still figuring out where his hands are supposed to go and how to not be weird about all of this. But Todd’s standing in front of him, relaxed and grinning, like the world hasn’t shifted at all.
Maybe that’s enough.
“Friday,” Lance says, just to hear it out loud, to pin it to something solid.
“Friday,” Todd echoes. He reaches out, hooks one finger in Lance’s hoodie string, and tugs him a tiny bit closer, eyes flicking down to his mouth for half a second before he looks back up. “Don’t chicken out, ‘kay?”
Lance huffs a laugh. “I won’t.”
“Good.” Todd lets the string go and stretches, already turning back toward the abandoned pizza box. “Now gimme five minutes to finish this slice so we can go upstairs and pretend we ain’t absolutely gonna tell Tabby we’re ‘mysteriously busy’ Friday night.”
Lance smirks. “You’re gonna tell Tabby?”
“Hell yeah, I am,” Todd says cheerfully. “Gotta rub it in that some of us are in demand.”
Lance shakes his head, but there’s a helpless smile tugging at his mouth now. He pushes off the counter and reaches for the pizza box, snagging a slice before Todd can protest.
Todd squawks, offended. “Yo! That’s mine!”
“Yeah?” Lance takes a bite, speaking around the crust. “Well, I’m your date now. I get pizza privileges.”
Todd stares at him for a second, then grins, wide and delighted. “Okay, that’s, like, unfairly hot. Keep talkin’ like that, Alvers, I’m gonna kiss you before Friday.”
Lance nearly chokes again.
Maybe, he thinks, as Todd laughs and thumps his back, this whole being painfully, obviously gay about asking a dude out thing isn’t the worst fate in the world.
-------------- I’m done with school, y’all!! It’s writin’ time! This one’s been lurking in my drafts for a while, so I finally dusted it off and finished it. Also: I’ve got more time for writing and art commissions, which are open on my Ko-fi! 💖
Karen Berger’s the name, Cap—and I’d like to know if you’ll take me out tonight.
(Captain America Volume 1 #267)
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technically this fanfic is part five of a series of Stonathan one-shots, but you don't have to read the previous parts to enjoy this one. however, if you'd like to, here is part one, two, three, four & five
rated e | 3,477 words | tags: top steve, bottom jonathan, degradation kink, use of f-slur (for degradation kink, not hate),choking, hand job, light BDSM, aftercare, feelings confessions
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
In which Leona finally asks out his favorite herbivore.