#and then pushed with his back legs and scooted around the perimeter of the whole garden. hes such a bastard i love him
Skater Boy Spencer Reid
Written by: spencerreidsmiles
Howdy, howdy! I am very slowly going through my remaining requests. This request was for prompts 38, 41, and 47 on the fluff prompt list here. You’ll see them bolded throughout the story!
Also, a short side note that I have no idea how to skateboard at all! This is solely based off my intensive research (/s) on how to skateboard, so if this isn’t accurate, I’m sorry!
Summary - The reader teaches Spencer how to skateboard.
Content Warnings - blood, minor injury, light teasing
Word Count - 1737
MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION
“Skateboarding? Of all things you could’ve chosen, skateboarding?”
“Oh come on, Spencer, you never know, you might be good at it,” you replied, yanking at his shirt sleeve.
Spencer glanced at you with a slightly withering glare. It was a look you were very familiar with; if there was one thing you enjoyed more than anything else in the world, it was teasing Spencer. It was just so easy to tease him, so why wouldn’t you?
But amidst all the teasing about the skateboarding, there was a part of you that knew Spencer Reid would make an excellent skater boy.
You leaned closer to Spencer, looking up with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster and a big pout.
“Remember when I saved your ass? You owe me, Spencer,” you said, emphasizing each word with a poke to his chest. “You said you would do whatever I wanted.”
Spencer glanced away with a pout. “Fine, whatever you like.”
“Hm, I knew you would say that.” You grinned with satisfaction and squeezed his cheeks. “I’ll see you at the skate park tomorrow! Don’t forget your knee pads!”
Spencer did not, in fact, forget his knee pads. (Not that forgetting things was something Spencer usually did.) And even though you had told him to bring his knee pads, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him walk - no, waddle - up in matching purple knee pads, elbow pads, and a helmet. He looked long and gangly and awkward in his gear with his usual converse and for once, a tee shirt and shorts. You hadn’t ever seen him in any of these clothes before but you had to admit, you definitely weren’t disliking it.
“You look really good. Color coordinated too,” you said with a big smile as you knocked the side of his helmet with your knuckles.
“You like it?” Spencer beamed. He did a little spin, the clasps of his helmet twirling around.
“It’s perfect for you. Honest.” You kicked up your spare board, catching the top. “But let’s get down to business. I’m going to make you a skater boy by the end of the day, Spencer Reid. That is a promise.”
You handed the board over to Spencer. It was old and scraped up from years of use and many, many wipeouts. When you’d first bought it years ago, it was red and shiny, but now the red had faded away, leaving only a wooden board with strips of red remaining. The wheels were still functional, if a bit wonky, but perfect for learning on.
For someone who claimed to have absolutely zero athletic ability, Spencer was quite good at skateboarding. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually started skateboarding for real yet. You started him off by placing a single foot onto the board with the other still fully intact with the ground, but it was a start. He got a feel for what it felt like to bend his knees and push his weight around to move the board. But now he had to put both feet on the board and actually skateboard.
“Y/N, look! I’m doing it!” Spencer said as he hopped around on one leg while scooting with his other on the board.
You couldn’t help but smile. The childlike glee Spencer was exuding could make anyone smile. He carted himself around the perimeter of the skate park as you trailed behind him, keeping a careful eye on him.
“Alright, Spencer. Well here comes the hard part. Give me your hands, you’re going to put both feet on the board now.”
Instantly, Spencer’s smile was replaced with a worried expression. He put his foot down on the ground and paused in front of you.
“What?” he asked. You brushed aside some of Spencer’s hair that had escaped his helmet, accidentally brushing his cheek as well. Shivers tickled your spine and unfamiliar goosebumps covered your body.
“Hey, I got you. Trust me, okay?” you said.
“Okay.” Spencer nodded and placed his hands in yours.
“Now push off with your right foot, then put it back on the board, and I’ll pull you, got it?” you directed.
With a silent gulp, Spencer did as you said. He bent his knees and pushed off with his right foot before placing it back on his board. You started walking backwards and pulled Spencer forward. Slowly, you started walking back faster and faster until you had started to jog.
“Spencer, you’re doing it! You’re doing it!” you exclaimed.
Without saying another word, you let go of Spencer’s hands. And for a minute, he was actually doing it, actually skating around with both feet firmly planted onto the board and arms spread out like wings. You were so busy admiring him you didn’t even notice that he had begun to lose balance and wobble.
“Y/N! How do I stop!” he shouted, reaching his hands out for you.
“Oh shoot! Hold on!”
You started running back towards him, but you were too late. Spencer had already leaned too far ahead. He started making circles with his hands, flapping around in an attempt to keep his balance. Just as you grabbed his hands, the board kicked out from under him and both of you fell flat onto the asphalt.
You had your eyes closed while you were falling, so when you opened them to find Spencer’s face only a couple inches above yours and his body on top of yours, you nearly screamed. You had never been this close to Spencer in your entire life. Surely if he was this close, he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, no? You were breathless but you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were being squished by Spencer or because of how close you were to him.
Spencer, however, was completely frozen. His hands were placed right beside your head and he was staring, just staring, straight at you. His caramel curls hovered right above your face, blowing gently from the wind.
“Hi,” you said breathlessly.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’ll be honest, you are crushing me right now.”
“Oh, sorry!” Spencer rolled off of you, landing on his butt, cross-legged on the ground. You wriggled yourself up and watched as Spencer dusted himself off.
When you finally made eye contact, you couldn’t help but start laughing. You were just replaying the image of Spencer slipping over and over again. It was incredible.
“That was the most ridiculous fall I’ve ever seen, Spencer, my god.”
You leaned back, holding your stomach as you laughed. Just before you fell over completely again, Spencer caught your hand. From that single touch, electricity shot from your fingertips into the rest of your body. The sensation nearly scared you for how good it felt, how alive it made you feel. Touching Spencer felt like you were skating without even getting on a board. You never wanted to let go.
But Spencer did. He pulled back, forehead scrunching as he winced.
“What’s wrong?” you asked. But then you saw it, his poor hands all torn up from the fall. They were rubbed raw with speckles of red dotting his palms. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, your hands!”
“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at his own palms, flexing it, moving it around.
“No, come here, at least let me clean it,” you said as you stood up. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in my bag.”
You led Spencer to a bench with all of your things. As you cleaned his palms, wiping them with antiseptic wipes and bandaging them, you could feel Spencer’s eyes watching you.
After years of working for the FBI, going on case after case for years, Spencer’s hands were rough and calloused. There were scars, too many for you or him to remember where and when they came from now, blending in with the creases of his hands. But still, they were comforting, familiar.
“One more try, okay? I believe in you. No more wipeouts.” You finished bandaging his hands with a gentle pat. Spencer pretended to pout, giving you a half-meaning glare.
“Oh come on, you’re okay. Do you need a kiss to make it better?” you teased.
“What?” Spencer’s face flushed.
“I’m kidding.” You pushed his shoulder lightly all whilst thinking that for the first time (or at least the first time you had truly acknowledged it) you weren’t really joking at all. “Now come on, one more try.”
Spencer was more hesitant this time, but he reached for your hands again. He placed one foot on the board, already beginning to wobble. Come on, Spencer, you can do it, you thought to yourself. He glanced at you as he took a deep breath.
And he did. Spencer soared around the whole park. He was like a natural as he swerved around with outstretched arms. The sound of the wheels sliding against the pavement surrounded you as Spencer removed his back foot from the board and stopped without flying off the board right in front of you.
“You did it, Spencer!” You ran up to Spencer and enveloped him in a massive hug.
Spencer returned your hug, throwing his arms around you tightly. His knee pads knocked against your legs as he pulled you closer to him. He smelt of coffee and baby powder under the sweat and dirt and twinge of blood that lingered in the air. As you stayed there wrapped up in his arms, you wondered if it was possible to stay here forever in the comfort you never knew was so close.
The two of you finally decided to leave when the sun started to beat down on your backs. While Spencer was prepared for almost everything, apparently the two things he hadn’t thought about were guard gloves and sunscreen. Spencer grabbed the board, resting it comfortably under his arm.
As you went to get your bag, Spencer tapped your shoulder and spoke. “So uh, can we do this again next week?”
Your heart skipped a beat. “I would love that, Spencer. And who knows, you might be better than me soon.”
Spencer looked down with a growing smile on his face.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” you said, fearlessly grabbing Spencer’s hand.
You walked away with satisfaction, thinking to yourself only one thing; you were right, Spencer Reid did make an excellent skater boy.
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Here? Now?!
Hello again! I know I already posted the first story for my one shot Wednesday challenge, but after some careful consideration.....and bargaining over on the “Let’s talk about Upstead” group chat... I have decided to post this smutshot as an added bonus for the week. From here on out, I will probably post one new story every Wednesday until Nov. 11th, but if one of the prompts happen to be a smut shot then I will post that as a bonus. This way, if there is anyone who doesn’t enjoy the smutty/sex fics they don’t miss out on a story for the week. So without further ado, here is this weeks smutty bonus! Based on the prompt’s:
Really? You wanna have sex.... here? Now?"
and
"I may or may not have left some.... marks.”
Sent in by the wonderful @thetwit. Thanks again to everyone who has sent in prompts for the Wednesday challenge series. Hope you enjoy!
Mandatory overtime. Two words that shattered Hailey’s hopes for a long weekend off. Platt had sent out the email yesterday morning that she needed two members from Intelligence to work a patrol detail and since everyone else in the unit had already pulled their fair share of OT, Hailey and Jay volunteered. More so, they were volun-told by Trudy that they would be the ones working. With a sigh, she pulled her unfamiliar blue uniform out of her closest and began the process of getting ready for her shift. She supposed that if there was anyone she was going to be forced to spend time with for the next four hours at work, on a Saturday, at least it would be Jay. Hailey stood in front of her mirror, tugging at the scratchy polyester material of her shirt and then pulling her hair into a quick ponytail. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and headed downstairs. Vanessa was sprawled out on the couch, looking extra comfy in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old band tee. She smiled up at Hailey when the older woman walked in.
“Ah, I don’t miss those days.” Vanessa teased, trailing her eyes up and down Hailey’s uniform.
“As I recall, you never had ‘these days’.” Hailey countered back with a smile.
“True true.” Vanessa nodded with a grin, turning her attention back to whatever Netflix documentary she was watching. “At least you get to do it with your boy toy.” Vanessa waggled her eyebrows, popping a chip into her mouth.
“He’s not my boy toy. And all we’ll be doing is patrol.” Hailey shook her head at her roommates antics.
“Yeah, the ‘it’ I was referring to was the overtime...not anything else.” Vanessa sent her a wink and Hailey felt her face blush at the innuendo. “You two aren’t ballsy enough to mess around at work.” Oh, Hailey thought, if she only knew.
“And you are?” Hailey challenged, trying to shift the attention off herself.
“Maybe...” Vanessa trailed off with a smug look on her face. Hailey’s phone when off then with a text from Jay saying he was outside. Since they were in official uniform they had to take an official patrol car and Hailey laughed at the sight of Jay sitting behind the wheel of the old crown vic. She buckled herself in, blushing slightly when Jay leaned over to kiss her cheek, and they were off.
“So what is this event even for?” Jay asked causally as they turned off her side street.
“Beats me. You got the same email I did and I definitely wasn’t about to push for more info.” Hailey mocked a shudder at the thought of their harsh desk sergeant.
“Fair enough. Maybe there will be food trucks.” Jay sounded hopeful and Hailey chuckled. Jay was like a teenage boy when it came to food, he was always hungry and he would eat just about anything.
They arrived at their destination and Jay parked the patrol car on a street where it would be visible to the crowds. The banner hanging over the street informed them that this was some sort of charity block party and, to Jay’s delight, a row of food trucks were lined down one side of the event. They got out, both tugging at and adjusting their uniforms, before they ventured into the crowds. Hailey had a personal bet going on how long it would take Jay to beg for the food trucks and she wasn’t disappointed when that was the first place he headed. The first place he headed was the pizza truck, ordering them each a slice and a soda. Food in hand, they began to lazily trail through the crowds, heads on a swivel and eyes scanning for anything or anyone out of place. It was a fairly large crowd but most of the patrons seemed to be families with small children. They stood and watched a group of kids playing a water gun game and smiled when the youngest kid won the biggest teddy bear. Jay took her empty plate and soda from her, tossing it in the trash and nodding towards the dessert truck. Hailey laughed and shook her head, but followed him anyway. Hailey was distracted by some guy blowing up balloon animals for another group of kids and didn’t notice that Jay was headed back her way with two giant churro’s. Her eyes bugged out when she finally saw the large dessert and Jay’s beaming smile. He was like a kid in a candy store right now and she could feel her uniform getting tighter with all the food she was consuming. They found a bench and sat to enjoy their treat. Hailey was still scanning the crowds but when her eyes met Jay’s she sent him a quizzical look. Jay must have been staring at her the whole time she was eating, but the look in his eyes sent her heart skipping a beat.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hailey asked, brushing the sugar from her fingers and dipping her head self consciously.
“Maybe a churro wasn’t the best thing to get you....” Jay trailed off, voice sounding oddly husky given the circumstances.
“I don’t follow.” Hailey pressed, sending him another questioning look.
“Well just watching you eat it, seeing you lick your lips like that...not okay.” Jay trailed his eyes up and down her body and Hailey felt her face flush.
“Oh, I see. Too bad we’re not ballsy enough for that.” Hailey repeated Vanessa’s earlier words, knowing she was teasing him and already planning what they would be doing after this event.
“Who said I’m not ballsy enough for that?” Jay asked, eyes a mixture of challenged and questioning.
“Vanessa was teasing me earlier about getting to do it with my ‘boy toy’ at work. She doesn’t think we’re ballsy enough.” Hailey laughed at the look on his face.
“So obviously you two don’t gossip like regular girls. You don’t go home and tell her all about our work...activities?” Jay scooted closer to her on the bench and she quickly moved away, maintaining their distance.
“No Jay.” Hailey said, shifting again when he moved even closer.
“So she doesn’t know any of it?” Jay pressed, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Nope.” Hailey emphasized the word, moving one more time and finding herself at the edge of the bench.
“Locker room? Break room? Your desk?” Jay whispered each location, his voice deepening with each mention. Hailey swallowed hard as the memories of each encounter flashed through her mind.
“No Jay...” Hailey repeated herself, finally standing from the bench and brushing off the crumbs that had fallen on her legs. She looked down at Jay, who remained seated and looked as calm as ever despite how flustered she currently felt. He shifted slightly, leaning back against the bench and she glanced down as he spread his legs, thinking that maybe their was something happening down there that shouldn’t be considering they were in public, in uniform and at work. “Problem?” She asked, eyes meeting his as her heart rate increased again with his look.
“Maybe a little bit.” Jay replied, eyes moving down her body quickly before meeting hers again. “Why? Did you want to help me with something?”
“Jay!” She hissed, glancing around to assure no one was overhearing their conversation.
“That wasn’t a no...” He challenged, looking smug.
“Yes it was. You’re crazy! That is so not happening.” Hailey crossed her arms stubbornly and looked away from him.
“Whatever you say.” He gave her a smirk and then stood up, shifting his belt slightly to adjust his growing problem. Hailey huffed and turned to walk towards the crowd. She felt the heat still present on her face but hoped she could play it off as just being hot from the warm Chicago weather. She knew Jay was following her but she didn’t dare look at him as she was trying to regain her focus. They walked slowly through the crowds, moving around the perimeter and scanning the middle. Hailey was starting to think she was in the clear as they made their second loop around the event, Jay walking quietly beside her. Suddenly Jay tugged her arm, halting her movements. His face looked mildly concerned as he nodded towards a dead end alley way full of empty trash bins and crates.
“We better check that out.” He stated, voice in work mode. Hailey followed him as he strode down the alley until he got to the end and rounded the corner. They stood in a small but empty area, out of the view of the crowds, surrounded by old wooden crates. Hailey glanced around, looking for whatever Jay had followed when he was suddenly in front of her. Hailey looked up as he stepped closer and closer to her, a devilish glint in his eyes as he made her step backwards until she bumped into the wall. As soon as she was against the cool brick wall, Jay’s arms were framing her in, hands on either side of her head. He dipped his head down and pressed a quick kiss onto her mouth.
“Jay!” She whispered frantically, not liking where this was going. Jay moved down, trailing kisses along her jaw line. Hailey’s hands flew to his shoulders. gripping them tightly as he moved his mouth along her neck. She couldn’t stop the moan that fell from her lips when he nipped the sweat spot just below her ear. “Jay..” She said his name again, voice less frantic and suddenly huskier than before.
“Come on, we’ll be quick.” Jay whispered against her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.
“Quick?” Hailey asked, still trying to talk herself out of this.
“Yeah, it won’t take me long to get you there...” Jay pulled his head back slightly, biting his lip and boring his eyes into hers. She knew he wasn’t wrong, but this still seemed like an awful idea.
“Really? You wanna have sex.... here? Now?” Her voice hitched as she finished her questions, Jay’s mouth was back against her neck and he nipped at her skin again, causing her to arch into him. He stepped closer and closed the gap between them. Now she could feel his excitement pressing into her abdomen and all rational of this being a bad idea left her mind. Her hands clasped behind his head and she pulled him into her. His mouth met hers in a heavy kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. Jay kept one hand on the wall behind her while his other moved to her side, gripping her waist firmly before reaching to undo her belt. Hailey held on for dear life as Jay’s hand effortlessly made its way into her pants, sliding underneath the rough fabric and teasing her aching core through her soaked panties. She moaned against his mouth as she felt one finger pull the fabric aside and slide into her heat. He teased her slowly, moving his finger in and out at a tantalizing pace. Hailey’s hip bucked into his hand, craving more from him. He smiled against her lips, drawing her bottom lip between his teeth and giving it some gentle pressure. He pulled his finger out slowly and then slide two back into her, his palm coming to rub against her bundle of nerves. Jay used his knee to spread her legs further apart and the new contact was enough to push her over the edge. She clung to his neck as she felt her walls begin to tremble. Jay kept his mouth over hers, silencing the scream with a kiss. Hailey rode out her orgasm, grinding down onto his hand and then trembled as her body came down from its high. Jay pulled back from the kiss, allowing them to both catch their breath and smiled down at her.
“Shhh, there’s kids around.” He teased, earning a smack on the back of his head.
“Shut up.” Hailey said breathlessly but smiled up at him. He withdrew his hand from her pants, causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. Hailey reached down, palming his hardened member through his pants. Jay groaned at her ministrations, hips slightly bucking into her hand. Hailey made quick work of his zipper and then slid her hand down to grasp him. Her hands set about an easy rhythm and Jay knew it wouldn’t take her long to finish him, but he wasn’t done yet. Jay stalled her movements, gripping her wrist and looking around the surrounding area. He nodded towards a crate beside them and Hailey looked up at him questioningly. Jay tugged her arm gently, causing her to move with him. He shifted her to stand in front of the crate that came up to her waist and then moved to stand behind her. Jay slid his hand back down into her pants, teasing her bundle of nerves once again. His hot breath ghosted over her ear as he nipped at the skin below it. Hailey shivered against him and gripped the crate in front of her. Jay had one hand down her pants while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her steady.
“Do you trust me?” He whispered into her ear. His voice deep with lust. Hailey couldn’t get her voice to work so she simply nodded her head, eager to see what he had in mind. Jay pulled his hand out of her panties and then gently tugged her pants down to rest just below her thighs. She glanced back and watched as he pulled his hardened member out. One hand gripped her hip softly while his other one went to her lower back, carefully pushing her forward to lean on the crate. Hailey moaned when she felt his tip tease her entrance, gripping the wooden crate harder as she realized what was about to come. With one slow motion, Jay slid his full length into her and the angle had her almost coming right then and there. He set about a slow pace, letting her adjust to his size, before picking up his speed. Hailey ground her hips back, meeting his every thrust. The angle was hitting spots she didn’t think possible and she knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Jay’s hand continued to grip her waist and his other hand reached around to her front, flicking her swollen bundle.
‘You ready?” He whispered against her neck, causing her to shiver again. His voice was all it took to push her over the edge. Her walls began to quiver around him and her legs felt weak.
“Yes..” She breathed, feeling the burn in her lower abdomen as her orgasm crashed into her. “Jay...fuck...” Hailey dipped her head down, shoving her hand into her own mouth and biting down to stop the scream that threatened to erupt from her. She felt Jay come undone above her and they stilled for a moment, both out of breath. He slowly pulled out of her and helped her to stand back up. They tidied themselves up the best they could and tucked their uniforms back into place. Hailey adjusted her ponytail she knew had been destroyed during their romp and then smiled up at Jay whose face was still flushed from his high. He reached up, playing with the collar of her shirt, a sheepish grin on his face.
“What?” She asked, tilting her head in question.
“I may or may not have left some.... marks.” He gave her another sheepish grin when her hands flew up to her neck.
“Jay!” She hissed, caressing the skin of her neck.
“No one will notice..” He shrugged, feigning innocence.
“You better hope not!” She threatened quietly, a smile still on her face.
“I mean, it was sorta worth it...right?” Jay asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“It was. I guess.” Hailey admitted, teasingly shoving him back wards. “We better get back out there, only have one more hour to patrol.”
“Then your place for beers?” Jay asked as they made their way back into the crowd.
“No way. Vanessa can’t see these, I’ll never live it down.” Hailey motioned towards her neck, rolling her eyes at his grin.
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III. On the road, and off the road
Summary: The three of you travel to Cincy where they find out a lot more about your family.
Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes
A/N: Uh hu h uh uh u huhuhh whaaaaat is happening??? Seriously though, there will be a short angsty segment soon, and then we can get back to the tomfoolery. XX
Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost
A heavy weight on your stomach wakes you up the next morning. Buckeye has climbed onto the couch and over your body, placing his chin right on your sternum. His tail whacks against your propped-up foot as you begin to stir, and he plants a wet good morning kiss with his nose right over your mouth.
“Ah!” You cry, wiping it off with the back of your hand, “Geez!” He does it again and you can’t help but laugh, even though it’s cold and slimy. He looks pleased as punch as he flops his head back on your chest and stares lovingly into your eyes. Yes, you think, only an animal can love you in the morning. Eye crusts, dragon breath, and all. Stupid big-ass dog makes you soft and gooey.
“C’mon. Off.” You pretend to be annoyed and he slides onto the floor with a whine and follows you into the restroom as you brush your teeth.
Taking in the damage to your apartment— which is none at all, you figure it ended well last night. There’s a memory of you throwing vodka at Tinder-Date-Dickhead and then taking an Uber home. Good call on not driving, you pat yourself on the back and take Bucky outside.
Three alerts are on top of the speech bubble when you get a chance to look at your phone afterwards. Natasha. Steve.
Nat: Sunnywaters?
You heave a sigh and reply: Dude stop threatening me.
Then, you open the other message.
Steve: You up? Buck and I are packing— swimsuits? Yes or no? Also Cincinnati has its own Coney Island… ha ha ha very funny. I bet it stinks compared to the [1/2]
Steve: “real” Coney. Do your parents know we’re coming? I’d hate to intrude. [2/2]
You punch the green call button and rush back inside, scaring Buckeye a little with your sudden frantic movements.
“Good morning!” Steve’s voice sounds like a firecracker. And then he’s popping off in your ear, “Did you get my messages? Bucky and I are happy to stay in a hotel or something – called aerobean? Renting a house? I’m not really sure how that works.”
“It’s called airbnb, you fossil.” You respond off-handedly before catching yourself. “Stop, stop, why are you going to Cincinnati? And what about my parents?”
“You invited us. Are we leaving … today?”
Your face drains completely of color when it hits you— a nebulous and dizzying baseball bat swing to the temple. Last night crashes back into your mind: Steve, looking down, patting sympathetically. Two arms— turning you protectively until the room is sideways. You remember the way the blanket was tucked under your chin and around your shoulders.
“…Did you— did you t-tuck me in?” You ask hesitantly. Steve makes a negative grunt on the other line.
“Buck did that. He said he thought you’d get cold.”
“Oh…. Kay….” You whisper. “Uh. How set are you on Cinci?” You cross your fingers and hope he’ll back out purely based on how pathetic you sound. “It’s a ten-hour drive, dude. You guys okay with that?”
“Sure!” Steve chirps back. “We’ll take turns driving. Although Buck’s kind of a wheel-hog. Gets nervous when he’s not in charge.”
In the distance, you hear Bucky protest and it makes your mouth go dry.
“Uh. Okay. I usually leave early so… meet me here at six tomorrow.”
You hang up and bang the back of your head against the wall. The baseball bat of memory swings again.
You think you might faint because you start to recall last night: the metal hand lifting your head and placing the pillow under your hair. You even remember telling Bucky you loved him? It’s bewildering because you certainly do not love him. What was that thing that T-Pain said again? Your heart squeezes in your chest as you search around frantically for some scapegoat. Ah—yeah, T-Pain famously warbled: Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-cohol.
Your body flies over the outfield and into the bleachers before crashing. It’s the most agonizing homerun.
Steve, you think, is probably the one skipping past bases and winking. Somehow, this is all his damn fault.
—
Buckeye scoots around the back of your car, shifting so his weight lands primarily on the cushiony bed. His head is laid gently on Bucky’s thigh, who lost to rock paper scissors and must get squished in the backseat. Lucky for him, you pack lightly, and your legs are much shorter than Steve’s. Unlucky for you, that means he’s right behind you, radiating the heat of a thousand terrifying and silent suns.
It’s been thirty minutes since you started driving. Every time you look into the rear view, Bucky’s blue eyes look back. At this point, you have no idea if any cars are behind you because you will not let yourself look again.
“This is nice.” Steve says breezily, commenting on the silence. You had barely spoken to them when they arrived, instead busied yourself with playing Tetris with your luggage and theirs as well as the fabric box of Bucky’s--- BUCKEYE’s things. God damn it.
“Love it when it’s quiet. Nothing but the road and--” Steve continues.
“Oh, shut up!” You and Bucky reply in unison. You glare up into the mirror. Bucky glares right back. The embarrassment of last night snuffs itself out. Love? In this motherfucker’s dreams.
To your side, Steve stares out the window to hide his smirk.
—
The music of your so-called Driving Playlist bumps through the car speakers. You’ve been subjecting them to your chaotic tastes for the last hour. Every new song is jarring and different than the one before it. There’s Christmas carols. Frenetic Japanese electropop. Incredibly explicit gansta rap. Something else sounds like a broken harmonica for eight whole goddamn minutes. Inexplicable genres and band names. In the middle of a warbly bass line and shrieking synths, you explain that this track is from a “witch house" group you particularly enjoyed as a young girl.
The terms “witch house” and “young girl” so close together makes the both of them shudder. Steve is petrified at the end of each song because the next one always seems to be worse. Bucky squeezes his face between two fully stuffed bags and groans as loudly as he can.
--
You stop to get gas and Steve walks Buckeye around the perimeter of the station. Bucky comes out from the sliding doors holding three Gatorades and cold brew coffee.
“Drink up.” He commands, flinging a pink bottle at you. “My turn to drive.”
You shake the nozzle when it clicks off and roll your eyes. “No way.”
“You can’t even see over the steering wheel.” You flip him off and silently mock him, rolling your eyes and scrunching up your nose. Then, you replace the nozzle and head inside to use the restroom, flipping him off another time for good measure.
“Don’t! Even!” You threaten behind your shoulder. But of course, by the time you’re halfway to the door, he’s already slid in the driver’s seat.
—
The only way you would stop bitching is if Bucky let you pick the music. So, the cord remains faithfully attached to your phone. And that dreaded playlist.
---
An hour later, your leg bounces from the back, knocking your knee into Steve’s seat. You’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the last twenty minutes and you feel like a fucking water balloon, about to pop. Steve turns around, elbow on the center console and quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Yessssss..” you could probably weep right now. No. No thinking of tears because tears are water. No fucking water.
“You’re shaking my seat pretty rough.” Steve accuses.
“You have to go again, don’t you? Jesus, what are you, four?” You’d think about how much you hate him but your bladder requires way more attention right now. This is the best posture you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your back is straight and you’re arching forward slightly—anything to relieve the pressure.
“I’m—- Ugh!” You shriek as the car runs over something and the entire thing rocks up, kicking a sharp jab into your lower abdomen. A wave of chills runs over your arms. “Oh no…” You whisper. Buckeye perks up and begins to sniff around, investigating your concern.
“Maybe I peed a little.” You admit sheepishly, squeezing your thighs together as well as your eyes.
“The next stop isn’t for another half hour…” Steve laments.
“Dirty Keanu Reeves over here gave me Gatorade!” You shake the bottle between them, 32 empty strawberry-flavored sugar-free ounces in all it’s glory. Even the wrapping has been peeled off. Steve sends the both of you a reproachful glare.
“I didn’t think she’d guzzle the whole damn thing!” He chooses to ignore your new nickname for him. He doesn’t even know who Keanu Reeves is. It’s a shame, really.
“Oh please stop arguing please pull over I swear I’ll piss in the forest I don’t care please.” Your words are running together like a waterfall. No. Not a waterfall. Oh god, you think, do not imagine any waterfalls. Bucky flips the blinker on and checks his blind spot before navigating to the right carefully. He puts on the hazards and stops your car—half on the emergency lane and half in the grass. Outside the window is about 200 feet of wildflowers before it turns dark with thick trees.
He turns and takes Steve’s place in-between the cloth seats. “There you are, princess. Pop a squat. Or stand. Just fucking hurry.”
“If I had a dick, Barnes, it would be way bigger than yours.” You push Bucky out of the way and wiggle until you can reach the glove compartment, elbowing Steve’s face in the process. There, your fingers yank a few tissues smushed into the corner of the dusty slot and you bolt. Oh sweet six-pound-and-four-ounces Jesus Christ you’ve never been so happy to piss in the woods.
Steve pats Bucky’s thigh as they watch you shred through the white and orange stalks, ripping a path through the peaceful country green. “Nah, Buck.” He smiles, “You’re pretty big.” Bucky slams the back of his head into the seat and lets out a long-suffering groan.
When you come back you fly into the car and moan happily. Bucky turns around to give you a snarky comment, but you hiss at him like an angry wildcat. “Saw a dead possum in the woods, man.” You say, “Looks just like you.”
—
Both you and Steve are asleep, along with the dog. It’s been a little over an hour now. The Captain reclines in the passenger seat, sunglasses on. You’re pitched over Buckeye, head resting on your splayed arm. The three orders of family-sized burger meals knocked you out first, then Steve. There’s hardly any room in the car for the enormous amount of trash that entailed, but you made do with the space next to your leg and stuffed the bag between you and the door.
Bucky slurps his coffee and drives in silence, frowning when the idea that he misses your bullshit finds him.
—
“God, can we listen to anything else?” Bucky grumbles when some mindless tune comes back on. You smile because Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is your goddamn jam. It’s the single best song to piss off any living person or animal and you embrace it whole-heartedly.
You let Steve browse the rest of your selection, waiting patiently for the inevitable—
“What is this?” He yelps. “Gay for Jesus?” His fingers continue to scroll, “What kind of playlist names are these? Sad n Sexy Santa? Who’s got the Biggest Dick in Baseball?” You’re cackling madly. It doesn’t stop there. “Fingerblast Fest of 2017?”
“What does that even mean?” Bucky mutters.
“Made it for a lesbian couple. Anniversary present.”
Bucky’s face scrunches up with confusion and you enlighten him by leaning forward and thrusting two fingers back and forth so vigorously his seat shakes like an industrial-sized dryer set on high.
“Oh fuckin’ A!” He cries, jerking his head away from your hand. Steve turns red as a beet. “Okay, new rule...” he sighs, turning your phone over on his lap, “Do not ask about playlist names.”
--
Traffic has clogged up the highway. It’s deadlocked and immobile, stuck in the middle of a big city—all smog and industry. There’s not even good scenery to look at. You are buried in-between the pages of a book, taking advantage of the stillness by reading as much as you can. After this, you’ll have to brush up on your Latin, too. Then Greek. It’s annoying, but at least you don’t have to do another summer immersion program somewhere in bumfuck Florida this year.
A folky tune comes on and it’s a welcome reprieve. Bucky and Steve look up when you start humming along, voice coming out to follow the melody.
“Didn’t know you could sing.” Steve comments.
“Habeo multum talenta.” You reply—brain tuned to Latin. It makes them both wonder what else you can do.
--
Two hours left to go before the three of you reach your destination. You’ve switched out with Steve, who begrudgingly sits in the back, legs pushed up nearly to his chest while you stretch up front, cracking your back every which way. Bucky has refused to move from the driver’s side.
The music halts for a couple of hours while conversations meander. All sorts of subjects are breached now that there is nothing else to do but talk. The last two months of knowing them, although made you more comfortable, didn’t quite allow you to learn as much as this single car ride has. Most of what you could understand from them was made through your own observations, but now they are more or less open books.
Sometimes, the words hang heavy in the air— old, bulbous and dusty ornaments they polish for you. Steve talks about the war. Bucky does too. You have lots of questions on your end and they illuminate all of them with personal spotlights.
Sometimes, it returns to the playfulness you are used to.
Steve vomited on the cyclone. Bucky lost three dollars trying to win a bear for a girl. You tell him you blew through thirty-five dollars on a crane machine once (for yourself) and the two of you share a moment of solidarity together. Although, it’s hard for you to imagine him as some flirtatious young man and Steve can see it on your face.
“New gal every two weeks.” He informs.
“Were there even that many women in Brooklyn?” You gasp, scandalized.
“They came from all over to get a look at Buck.”
Bucky only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.
“What was wrong with them?” You whisper on-brand with your usual self, but the memory of his laughter by your front door glows rosy in your mind. Yeah, you can see how girls would get themselves in a tizzy for him. Winter Soldier with his mask on hardly turned heads as much as Captain Adonis America, but if you take a second to look at him, it’s easy to see how built he is. Like a Greek statue. Even his aura is enthralling—a bit secretive, a little dark. He could definitely use that to his advantage.
The smile grows into an almost feral grin—there's that aura, you think. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nearly growls.
You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with petting Buckeye because the pink crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.
--
Bucky pulls off the familiar highway, drives a distance down the curved road next to the river and you lean back, breathing in that familiar fishy and slightly sickly sewage air.
“Aw yeah. Welcome to Cincy.” You laugh. Steve ducks his head to watch the scene, squinting at billboards and watching houses whiz by.
“What’s Skyline Chili?” He asks as the car zooms by an advertisement. A questionable pile of shredded cheese overtakes the (apparently) chili and hot dog on the otherwise blue sign.
“Depending on your taste, either the best or worst thing you’ll ever eat.” The smile on your face widens when he furrows his brow. “Oh, my sweet summer child... you’re in for a treat.”
Your neighborhood comes into view and you wistfully stare at the immaculate paved roads, manicured wide green lawns, blonde-haired moms pushing baby strollers, and dogs trailing behind them on loose leashes. Buckeye pads around as much as he can in the back, stepping over your lap repeatedly as he begins to recognize where he’s at.
“Pretty nice neighborhood.” Steve comments, making a slow turn. The GPS pulls him into a driveway leading up to your parent’s ranch-style home. They both whistle at the garden in bloom and the cobblestone path. You point him to pull around to the garage where your father’s Benz is parked. The old willow tree hangs over it, weeping petals and leaves on the windshield.
“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters at how the rosebushes and magnolia pots wrap even around the side and the back. The deck is littered with more flowers and potted plants. A stained glass table. Even the outdoor chairs have beautiful plush cushions. There seems to be a room underneath the slope of the yard—perhaps a basement transformed into a living space. Everything matches perfectly. “You do have money.”
You sigh.
“It’s not my money. It’s my parents’.” The scathing and bitter tone makes him frown, but you hop out anyway, slinging two bags over your shoulder and nudging Buckeye into the yard. Your dog happily pounces all over the greenery, chasing butterflies and barking.
“You sure they’re ok with this?” Steve asks carefully.
You nod, “There are lots of perks to being the prodigal son. Daughter, in my case.”
“Thought you had a dick.” Bucky sneers.
“Get with the times, old man. Gender is an illusion.”
—
The house is empty. You lead them through the front door and into the hall where it branches into three areas. There’s a railing and staircase that leads down, but for now they take in the sights on this floor. The first step points straight to the dining room where the table is already lined with china and perfectly arranged. Silk napkins. Crystal glasses. Delicately carved mahogany display cabinet.
On the right is the living space and kitchen where the color scheme turns to a pale aqua, cream, and gold accents. Two scooped leather seats face the flat screen, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. There is also a small couch and a seafoam armchair and matching ottoman. The coffee table is a gorgeous marble, flecked with gold.
They turn and look down the other way, noticing a large mirror entombed by a heavy decorated frame in between two doors. The walkway continues right and disappears even further down.
You stare at them. They stare back.
“Please don’t.” You beg, dropping your bags with a heavy sigh; this is why you didn’t want them coming. You hate it when people comment on your parents’ house. And they haven’t even seen the pool or tennis court. Or the downstairs living area with the grand piano your fingers nearly bled all over from countless hours of practice. Or the family oil painting you sat for when you were a kid. Fuck.
“I fucking hate it.” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Gaudy shit. Too big. This place haunted?”
You could leap into his arms if they weren’t carrying his bag and your dog’s stuff. Instead, you settle for a genuine smile, all warmth and radiance because you feel it in your heart—the appreciation for his understanding wrapped in snark. “Now we’re talking. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You guys can stay in my childhood bedroom.”
They finally drop their bags on the bay window seat in your old room after you unlock it. It’s always been like this— and you never let your parents come in. You open the middle of the window and let the room air out a little and the afternoon light pours in. Your old pictures are still on the shelves. Trophies. Music books. Your suede riding helmet, too. They wander around, peering at the images.
“Where are your parents?” Steve asks.
You shrug and plop down on the king-size bed out of habit, lying back with your legs dangling off the edge. Buckeye hops on with you and pads around a bit before he settles into a bagel-like swirl of a shape. “Ibiza. Dubai. Paris. Virgin Islands. Take your pick. My dad has property in all of them.” You message him anyway. You’re not surprised they’re gone for the summer. You don’t really come back for them; you mostly come back to get away from Manhattan.
“Wow.” Steve mutters.
“He even owns part of a mountain in Colorado. It’s vile. Historically, we’re from Ohio… ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel like a child again, and being in this space doesn’t help.
Steve examines the paintings in the room and flips through scattered books on the work desk. Bucky trails around your bookshelves, looking at the frames, picking some up here and there to examine what’s inside. “Who’s this?”
Peeking up you blow a pppffbbfbfbt breath of air out between your lips. It’s you, duh. Except your hair is perfectly curled and piled atop your head— a bird’s nest cushion for a sparkly tiara. Your eyes are piled heavily with so much eyeshadow and lash extensions it looks like an ombré spider web, and you’re wearing a low-cut dress swirling with rhinestones. Across your torso is a sash. Yep. Homecoming Queen. You’re pressed up against your date, all smiles, sharp cheeks, shoulders so thin he can see your skeleton jutting out. Over ten years ago, you were a much different person.
“Laugh it up, Barnes.” You mutter. “Thas ya girl, sweet sixteen, massively underweight, and aspiring to be the shiniest trophy wife of them all.”
“Why would I laugh?” He asks, suddenly solemn. Bucky turns to look at you, sprawled out on the bed, sardonic smile plastered to your face. “You don’t look very happy.” He still has the picture in his hand. Steve has paused, too, closing a heavy leather-bound first edition. Being caught in the middle of two concerned stares makes you heavy with anxiety and dread. Instead of spending another second under their gaze, you shoot up and motion for Buckeye to follow.
“Don’t be fucking weird, man.” Then, you’re already up the stairs.
Steve and Bucky glance at each other and Bucky places the picture back on the shelf.
—
In the downstairs living space next to their room, you pour three glasses of thirty-year-old single malt whiskey from the cabinet and plop down on the piano bench. The boys sit on the couch and regard you curiously as you open the cover and stare at the ivory keys. Your foot stomps on each of the paddles underneath vengefully. Then you tip your head back, whiskey along with it, and slam the cover shut with a trembling crash. “Fuck you, Mozart.” You whisper, as if the piano can hear.
--
You peek downstairs after your bath and call, “Hey! My parents use a water softener so if you feel slimy… it’s normal.” The whiskey has made you flush with excitement and volatile energy.
Steve’s head pops out from the bathroom doorway, neck and chest red from the heat. “Oh, thank God.” He says, “Buck’s been scrubbing for hours.”
“Who the fuck would do this!” Bucky’s voice echoes from the same tiled space. You can practically see it shooting out from the room behind Steve’s shoulder to crash into the adjacent wall like a comic panel.
The towel on top of your head slips and you attempt to grab it quickly, using your other hand to hold onto the knot around your chest. “You guys fucking in there?!”
Steve only grins and sends you a wink, mischievous expression catching you off guard. The towel tumbles down the stairs and your hair slaps itself over your face. The two of you watch the fluffy sheet spread over the bottom of the steps before staring at each other. “You gonna get that?” He asks.
“No.” You reply, abruptly mortified, “It’s yours now.”
Apparently, Steve Rogers has chosen this very moment to make it known that partners is not only platonic in meaning. You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, because you’ve been harassing them for months about who’s a bottom (you bet all four limbs it’s Bucky), but suddenly the moment is confronting you and all you can do is think about how you’re naked and third-wheeling … in your own damn home. And that maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.
Captain America rubs the tip of his nose absentmindedly, “You alright?” There is genuine concern in his eyes as he steps out of the doorway and reveals his –NAKED! NAKED!
“No!” You scream, turning your head and hiding behind your outstretched hand. “No! Don’t! You fucking stay there you—Fucking A, Steve!”
He’s not really naked; he’s wrapped hip-down in a towel, but you don’t even want to see the outline of him. As far as you know, he’s a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. Maybe Bucky has like, three dicks. There is so much panic inside of you right now.
The water stops from the shower and rustling is heard as Bucky dries off. You attempt to slowly back up away from the steps and move back into the confines of your own room until your dog springs past you like a loose cannonball and sails downstairs. He banks left into the bathroom and licks a stripe over Steve’s shin before finding his true target: Bucky.
There is tumbling, banging, wincing from you and Steve as Buckeye clobbers his human doppelganger once more. Then, there is yelling and cussing—Steve, moving inside to help, but then more crashing follows before Buckeye tears from the bathroom and up the stairs with two towels clenched tightly in his mouth.
“No…” You whisper, when he drops them at your feet. His tongue flops against his chin and he looks up expectantly, as if you might reward him for his endeavor. Steve’s head peeks out again, and the wry smile he sends your way says: you’re fucked.
Next Chapter
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102. “Do you really think I could ever replace you?”
I apologize for this. 😬
————-
Peeta has been avoiding me. Ever since Gale came back to district 12 two days ago for a visit, and we cleared the air, Peeta has been missing. Instead of sleeping at my house in my bed with me, he’s been staying at his house again. Although, I have started thinking of my house as our house, and my bed as our bed.
When Peeta walked in the door and saw Gale, standing in front of me, clutching my shoulders, his face went ashen. He quickly apologized for interrupting and exited back through the door. I had wanted to follow, but Gale and I weren’t finished with our loud discussion. I figured Peeta would be back later, and we’d talk then.
Only he never came back.
I’ve tried tracking him down, but he’s learned the art of evasive maneuvers. I’m determined that tonight this standoff is going to end. The dark circles from sleepless nights have returned, and...
I need him. So much. And it’s more than just warding off the nightmares. Surely he knows.
He knows, doesn’t he?
I haven’t said the words, not since the beach in the Quarter Quell. But I’ve tried to show him that I need him. Everyday. And that I care...
That I love him. He definitely hasn’t heard that out of my mouth yet.
And the kisses. I’m addicted to the kisses. When he gently glides his large hands onto my cheeks, slowly pulling my lips towards his, my whole body melts into him. The kiss always starts as a spark with the touch of his lips, then quickly engulfs my body in flames as our tongues dance, liquefying me into a puddle of need.
I pick up my pace to Peeta’s house. I walk the perimeter, searching for entrance, since all his doors and windows on the first floor are locked. I look up towards his bedroom and see the window slightly ajar. I smile to myself at his predictability.
Now to get up there.
I walk around to the shed in the back and grab the ladder. I lean it against the porch roof, and gingerly climb. The ladder creaks the higher I get to the top. Stepping onto the roof, I carefully move towards the window, and push it open fully. I drop down onto the floor and peer into the darkness. As my eyes slowly adjust, I see a person in the corner of the room, rocking themselves, knee to chest. He must have removed his prosthetic.
“Peeta,” I whisper into the darkness. “I’ve been looking for you.”
The person stops moving, removes his hands from where he was clutching his hair.
“Katniss, just go. I don’t want to hear it,” he says vehemently, voice cracking.
“Hear what Peeta?” I ask, quietly walking towards him.
“That you’re running off with Gale. I just can’t…”
“Stop, Peeta,” I interrupt. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”
“Gale’s here now. He’s here for you. I was just a placeholder.”
I scurry closer, falling to my knees before him. “No, Peeta. You were never a placeholder.”
I grasp his hand, holding it to my chest.
“You’re just stuck with me Katniss. You don’t need me. You’d be happier with someone whole, like Gale, not some broken baker, who doesn’t always know what’s real. I won’t stand in your way.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. “No, Peeta. I’m not stuck with you. I want to be here with you. Do you think I could ever replace you?”
He looks away from me.
“Peeta, look at me.”
Meeting my gaze, I see so much agony in his beautiful blue eyes. And I did this. I made him feel as if he was nothing to me. That I’d just throw away my life with him. I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts. I’m not good at saying something, but I need to try for Peeta.
I pry open his fist that I’m holding, and place his palm over my heart. “You feel this?” I ask, he nods. “My heart beats for you, Peeta. Only you. I choose you. No one could ever take your place.”
“What are you saying, Katniss?”
“I love you, Peeta.” I scoot between his legs, closer to his body. My hands glide into his hair.
“You love me?” He asks, studying my eyes.
I kiss his jaw, feeling his tears on my lips. “I love you.” I kiss his cheek. “I choose you.” Repeating the words as I kiss a path to his lips. I hear him sigh as I increase pressure, and he wraps his arms around me, fully engulfing my body in his strong embrace.
Before the kiss can consume me, his lips move to my cheek, my neck, my ear. His breath against my skin causes a shiver.
“And I love you, Katniss. Let me show you how much.”
This is one fire I’m happy to have consume me.
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Black Silk Ropes
Words: 2056
Warning: Fluff and, uhh, not so fluff.
A/N: @mylifeinhopeworld Happy b-day, birthday buddy :P I went on anon and told you I was making you a present and here’s one part of the gift. The other is on my main here. Also I will gladly make a part 2 to this if you’d like me to. I love you so so sooooo much and I’m so incredibly thankful for you. Thank you for being born, my bby hope ❤ Crossing my fingers that you like your gift(s)! ilysm ❤
Clouds slowly drifted through the bright afternoon sky, Jinyoung's fingertips tracing patterns over the soft skin of your thigh. His attention was focused on the book he had propped up in his own lap but yours was trained on his striking features--the way the sunlight made his chocolate-colored irises appear more amber-tinted with barely visible flecks of black; how the corners of his mouth would flinch if he found something he was reading particularly humorous; or the way he would sometimes close his eyes, breathe deeply, and glance around him, his eyes focusing on little details before flitting off to look at the swans gliding over the lake. Graceful fingers turned the page of the book and he let out a content sigh as you nuzzled into his side a little more. You tilted your head to look at him from a different angle.
Despite the fact that he was thoroughly enthralled with his reading material, he seemed to finally sense your constant gaze and chuckled lowly, “Enjoying the scenery?”
You hummed comfortably, squeezing his arm slightly, “Very much so.”
Jinyoung nodded as a small smirk played across his plush lips, “It’s a pretty day.”
“You’re prettier,” you whispered into his ear.
Laughing again, he playfully jostled you. “I think it’s supposed to be me calling you pretty.”
Pouting, you leaned in to place a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I’m allowed to call you pretty, too, you know. Because you are.”
Jinyoung's lips twitched into an even wider smile, the crinkles beside his eyes becoming visible. You could see a tinge of pink starting to wash over his cheeks as he turned to look at you. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Jackson. Your compliments are beginning to sound eerily similar.”
“Have not,” you protested, furrowing your brow and scowling at him playfully. He placed a sudden kiss on the tip of your nose, causing himself to giggle unexpectedly at his own actions and you to stare at him in shock. “A little soft today, aren’t we?” You teased him and the blush on his cheeks deepened.
He scrunched his nose and tried to turn his attention back to the book in his lap, “Maybe so.”
You sighed softly and squeezed his arm again before moving to stand. “Come on, I’m hungry. You can take a break from your book.” You started to gather your things up. “Besides,” you mumbled, rubbing your shoulder before gesturing at the massive willow tree he was still sitting against, “The bark of this tree is a very uncomfortable bed. And you’re not very comfy anymore either since you’re so muscular and not squishy now.”
Jinyoung closed his book and looked at you amusedly, “Filing all your complaints at the same time?”
“No,” you quirked an eyebrow at him. “I have some saved for later.” You tugged at the picnic blanket he was still sitting on and huffed. He reluctantly stood up, tucking his book under his arm and leaned against the tree to watch you. Folding the blanket and stuffing it in your bag, you waggled a finger at his lax shape. “Next complaint on the list is going to be ‘I’m hangry’ if you don’t get me some food, fast, mister.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, “That’s ‘sir’ to you.”
You scoffed dramatically, “Not out here, it isn’t!”
He pushed himself off the tree and sauntered over to you, gaze darkening considerably and a sly smirk moulding his lips. “Wanna bet?”
“No, I want to eat,” you ignored his innuendo and slung your bag over your shoulder before heading off down the hill. You could hear him pouting as he rushed up behind you, discouraged that his attempt at flirting, or whatever the hell he was trying to do, didn’t work. Chuckling to yourself, you held a hand out for him to hold and he took it, rather reluctantly, as you both wandered off to find somewhere to have lunch.
~~~~~
“How is this any better than trying to coerce me into screwing under a tree in the park?” You whisper-shouted in Jinyoung's ear when you felt his hand trail eagerly up under the hemline of your shorts, causing him to choke on his drink while attempting to be subtle about the whole situation.
“I never...I didn’t...coerce?” He sputtered, cheeks reddening again. You gave him a knowing look and shoved his hand off your thigh, scooting a few inches further away in the booth the two of you were sitting in. A look of defeat combined with embarrassment overtook his features and he pouted into the menu propped up on the table in front of him.
You leaned your head on your hand as you stared at him, smiling to yourself at his disgruntled, focused expression. Jinyoung's smooth, suave facade vanished whenever he was with you, his true personality on full display, providing you a view that no one other than the boys got to experience. Ornery, sweet, a beautiful sense of humor, so incredibly caring, and all the little things in between that were special to you, always causing you to overflow with love for him. You sighed happily and he eyed you before becoming absorbed in the menu again. "I love you, Jinyoung."
His eyebrows knitted together briefly but he continued to act like he was ignoring you. "Jinyoungie," you whined, causing a slight smirk to play at his lips. "I said 'I love you'."
"I heard," he stated without looking up and you pouted at his curt response. He stayed silent for a while before lowering his voice, "I love you, too, baby girl." Lips curving into a content smile, you slid back to your previous spot at his side and cuddled up, looking at the menu over his shoulder and waiting for the server to come back to take your order.
~~~~~
Disinterested in the movie the two of you were watching on your couch that evening, you couldn’t help becoming intrigued again by Jinyoung, realizing you had a habit of staring at him and pondering over him thoroughly. He wasn’t bothered though, too absorbed in the movie to notice your studying gaze. Absentmindedly, your fingertips danced over his jean-clad thigh, eyes trained on his mouth as he licked his plump lips and suddenly you just wanted to kiss him until you couldn’t breathe anymore. And that’s exactly what you told him without realizing you were saying anything out loud.
His lips threatened to form a smirk but his gaze stayed trained on the TV, “I spent half the day trying to be subtle about wanting you and you ignored it everytime, but now that I’m actually enjoying something, you just come out and say how badly you want me? You really think you deserve my attention now?”
You decided to push his buttons a little, considering how irritated he already seemed. One hand squeezing at his bicep, the other still grazing his leg, you leaned in to nip at his ear. “I never said I deserved it but I know for a fact you want to give it to me.”
Jinyoung growled lowly and grabbed both of your arms, tugging you into his lap, causing you to straddle the thigh you had been teasing previously. “If you want me so bad, you’ll have to do it yourself. You’re not getting anything from me,” his tone was harsh, warning of his dropping patience level. He flexed his thigh underneath your weight, sending shivers down your spine, and threw your hands down. “Behind your back. No touching.”
You whined and opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a stern look and your jaw immediately snapped shut. Sinking down onto his thigh even more, you circled your hips and let out a gasp as the material separating you brushed against your sensitive core. Jinyoung returned his gaze to the TV, completely ignoring the fact that you were using him for your own pleasure, aside from the occasional muscle flexing.
Your breathing quickened as you continued to circle your hips and grind into his thigh, utterly soaking your bottoms and creating quite the mess on Jinyoung’s jeans. He tightened his muscle forcefully, shocking your system and urging a loud moan to tumble from your lips. “Fuck, I’m close,” you whimpered between breaths. He allowed you to continue, but a few seconds later, you could feel the knot in your stomach threatening to unravel and your movements became sporadic. Just as you saw the white begin to prick at the edges of your vision, Jinyoung’s strong hands were gripping your hips and his attention was fully focused on you.
“Not so fast,” he taunted, lifting your hips from his thigh and halting your release. “I never said you could cum.” Holding you in place for a few moments to let the feeling abate, Jinyoung forced you to stand on wobbly, unstable legs. “I want you naked, except for your ruined panties, on the bed, ass up. And if you touch yourself, I’ll know. You won’t cum at all tonight if that happens. Are we clear?” You nodded wordlessly. “Are we clear?” He repeated himself, practically shouting.
“Yes, sir.”
He waved you off, “Go.”
Moments later, you were in the position he requested and were eagerly anticipating his touch, the cold air sending goosebumps over your entire body and taunting at your dripping heat. You heard the TV go silent, the sound of the bedroom door opening soon followed. At the sight of you, Jinyoung faintly whispered a quiet “good girl” and made his way over to the drawers that hid some of your naughty secrets. You watched as he took out three black silk ropes from the top drawer before moving down to grab the lube and a small black vibrator from the third.
He slowly walked around the perimeter of the bed, eyeing you intensely, causing you to cower under his gaze and drop your hips. Jinyoung made a warning noise and you promptly lifted them again. Moving behind you, he tossed most of the items he had collected on the bed next to you, but used one of the silk ropes to secure your hands behind your back. “But Jinyoungie!” You whined at the thought of not being able to touch him.
The sound of a slap echoed throughout the room, followed by the familiar sting of the strike over your asscheek. You whimpered at the harsh contact and Jinyoung growled in response, “I said no touching.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many strikes do you deserve today? Just 5, 10, maybe 12?” You felt the bed dip beside you and hurriedly assumed the expected position without being asked, laying over his lap but shaking all the while.
“As many as you see fit, sir,” you tried to sound as strong as possible but all you wanted was for him to make you cum.
“Good answer.” Jinyoung squeezed your ass cheek roughly before slipping your panties over the curves, exposing your soft flesh to his view and his strong hand. “You had me just pissed earlier. Now I’m pissed and horny so I think you deserve a few extra spankings. What do you say?”
You nodded eagerly, “Yes, sir. I do deserve extra.” His touch disappeared briefly before being replaced with the harsh sting of another slap. “One!” You breathed weakly. Another smack, “Two!”
Ten spankings later, your ass was cherry red and Jinyoung was proud of his work. You winced as he slid your panties back on, the material grazing your tender, bruising skin. “On your back, legs spread,” he commanded. Quickly obeying, you struggled to get into position because of your bound wrists. Growing impatient, he dragged you to the correct spot himself, tying each leg to a bedpost in the process with the remaining silk ropes.
Without warning, Jinyoung suddenly slipped the vibrator into your panties and held it against your clit, switching it on to an alarming intensity. You inhaled sharply, your legs becoming like jelly and twitching in their restraints. “Let’s see how long you can tolerate this and not cum. I’m going to finish the movie you so rudely interrupted.” You knew better than to protest as he sauntered off and closed the door behind him. This was going to be a long night.
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password?
When he woke up, Dick immediately knew something was wrong. He was laying on his stomach, his head turned to the side and so he had a great view of the grey pillow next to his face, except his own bedsheets weren’t grey. He twisted and sat up.
The comforter bunched together near his knees was silver-and-blue striped and the walls were an eggshell white. The curtains were pulled aside and letting some light seep into the otherwise dark room, so he knew it was morning. The room was mostly neat, with a pair of pants thrown on the ground near the laundry basket and a towel on the floor near the bed.
There was a picture on the bedside table, and Dick grabbed one, bringing it close to his face so he could see through the dim light.
The picture was of a man with a little girl on his shoulder The man had Dick’s own face, but his hair was long, pulled back in a loose bun, and Dick’s own hair hadn’t been that long for years. The little girl had dark skin and darker hair, and the photo had caught her mid-laugh.
Dick had never seen her before in his life.
He put the picture down and picked up the phone laying next to it. The background picture on the phone was the same girl, and the phone unlocked with Dick’s fingerprint.
He frowned.
He scrolled through the recent calls, glad to see names he recognized--Babs, Wally, Gordon. No Bruce, though, or any of his siblings.
The most recent text was from Kori. Dick opened the message thread and read it.
ok have fun--see u at thanksgiving
He scrolled up a little and found the beginning of the conversation.
Kori: i have service for a little while!
Dick (?): okay great!
Dick (?): hows everything?
Kori: the negotiations are going pretty well...there’s always more to do but everything’s winding down
Dick (?): when will you be able to come home? Mar’i misses you!
Dick (?): okay, i miss you too
Dick (?): also Simon keeps knocking down our door….bring Jess back!!!
Kori: lol
Kori: i miss you too
Kori: have you been giving mar’i a kiss from me every day?
Dick (?): ofc!!! I’m a GOOD father
Kori: i know you are.
Kori: jess says if we leave in the next few weeks, we’ll be back on earth in november
Dick (?): omg they’ll all flip out if you make it back for thanksgiving
Kori: don’t tell them!! I want it to be a surprise
Dick (?): i promise i won’t!
Dick (?): i might have to tell simon though
Dick (?): for my own peace of mind
Kori: don’t unless you absolutely have to
Dick (?): I won’t. Hey, i gtg--babs is calling & it’s mar’i’s bedtime. Ttyl
Kori: ok, have fun--see u at thanksgiving
Dick closed out of the thread. The next text was from Wally, and below that was Babs and then Gordon, and then Simon. Dick clicked on Simon’s contact.
Why would he be texting Simon Baz?
Dick was fairly sure it wasn’t amnesia, especially because the date lined up with what he remembered it being. He got up from the bed and pulled on jeans and a black t-shirt, both of which fit him perfectly.
He inspected his closet, and found a fake wall inside. It only took a moment to figure out how to open the wall, and inside he found a sleek grey suit with bright green detailing. It was similar to his Nightwing outfit and yet clearly wasn’t a version of Nightwing. Dick touched the mask mounted on the wall behind it and spotted his escrima sticks on the floor next to the boots.
He withdrew from the closet and left the bedroom.
He was in an apartment with two other rooms, with the doors closed. The bathroom door was open, and the living room was simply furnished and the kitchen yielded nothing. Dick retreated back to the rooms and opened the room that must be the master bedroom, as quiet as he could.
There was a double bed and a compter set, in this room. The computer set was large and familiar, in an Oracle-y way, and there was a wheelchair parked next to the bed, and someone sleeping, the covers drawn over them. Dick took a few steps forward, just to double check, and he saw red hair poking out of the top of the covers, glasses on the bedside table.
Babs, then, he assumed, seeing girl clothes in the open closet. He left the room--closing the door behind him--and crossed the hall, pushing open the last door.
The room was darker than the others, since the curtains were thicker. Dick lifted the phone still in his hand and shined the light into the room.
There was a dresser, and a toybox on the side of the room, with toys scattered on the floor, and a bed along the side of the wall. The light from the phone revealed a tiny shape on the bed, the blankets near the ankles.
Dick crept closer, careful not to step on the toys. It was the little girl from the pictures, the little girl who, when he squinted, looked a little like him and a little like Kori.
I’m a good father, the other him had said, in reference to her.
In this universe--for it must be an alternate universe--he was a father, and this little girl was his daughter.
Dick swallowed and left her room, guilt for stealing that little girl’s father away swirling in his chest.
He went to the window in the living room and peered outside; he was definitely in Gotham and Dick remembered apartment shopping in this building in the past. He was glad to know where he was, and he glanced at the time.
Finding his way back to his own universe seemed prudent, and since it was a Sunday and Dick was sure he didn’t have work, he left, taking the keys next to the door with him.
When he was outside, he texted Babs, in case she woke up.
Went on a little walk...didn’t wanna bother you. Be back later.
He hoped this universe’s Babs was like his own and liked to sleep as late as she could so that he’d have more time to figure out a solution, or at least find out how he got into this universe in the first place.
He knew where to look for answers, too, which was convenient.
He drove there, bracing himself for any possibility. Anything in this universe could be different. Already, this universe’s Dick was a father and a different superhero than Nightwing. Who knew what else would be off?
Dick parked on the road beside the long gate up to Wayne Manor. He was glad to see it was intact and not burned down or anything.
He pulled out his phone as he walked and googled Martha Wayne. She was still dead and had been dead for a while, and then Dick did a quick google of Batman to make sure he was around.
He was, though Dick couldn’t find any pictures. He repocketed the phone and walked along the outside perimeter of the gate. In his universe, there was a cave-entrance in an old well behind the gardens. Dick scaled the fence when he neared the spot, and easily found the old well. In his universe, it was hidden by a low hedge, but in this universe, it was behind a dog-shaped topiary. Dick grinned at the sight and swung his legs over the side of the well, lowering the rope all the way down. He could see the bottom from where he was, so he felt confident in sliding down the rope. He landed on the boards that were holding up the bottom. In his universe, the bottom would be kicked out and then you free-fell until you either grappled away or caught the rope hanging on the ceiling. In this universe, there was a discoloration on the rounded wall and Dick kicked at that instead. It was a small door, about half Dick’s height but wide enough that Clark could get through and it opened inward. He sat down, putting his feet through the door and shuffling forward using his hands to walk. He closed the little door behind him and the tunnel fell into darkness. Dick reached for his phone and shined the flashlight ahead. The path seemed to slope downward, stretching farther than he could see.
There wasn’t anything to do but go forward, so he did, tucking his chin under his phone. He got a few feet ahead and then his phone buzzed wildly, and Dick startled, falling on his butt and dropping the phone into the ground beside him. Dick scooped up the phone and grabbed it, turning the screen to face him.
Wally was calling him. Dick debated not answering, but he figured if he knew Wally it must’ve been through heroing, and maybe Wally could help him out, if the Batman thing fell through. Dick answered, deciding to play it neutral until he figured out what Wally knew.
“Hey,” Dick said.
“Hey!” Wally said, chirping cheerfully. “Whatcha doin?”
“Just taking a walk,” Dick said, looking around the damp cave.
“Sounds nice,” Wally said. “Hey, listen, I’m really sorry but I’m gonna have to cancel dinner tonight. Apparently it’s an important anniversary for Iris and we’re having a family thing or whatever. I can’t get out of it and I suggested that you come along since you’re basically family at this point but for whatever reason Barry thought you’d bring the whole of the GL Corps with you and you know how he gets.”
“Yeah,” Dick said. “Sounds fun, man. Don’t worry about dinner. You can make it up to me some other time.”
“Thanks, babe,” Wally said, sounding relieved. Babe? “Have fun on your walk, I gotta go. Love you!”
“Love you too,” Dick said automatically and Wally hung up. Dick looked at the lockscreen. Hm.
Dick put the phone back under his chin and got back on his hands, inching forward. The ground was curved into a steep decline and after about ten minutes, the path ended and Dick tried to put his foot down and it fell into the air, the ground gone. Dick caught himself and the phone, scooting back. He sat down, shining the light at the hole in front of him. There was nowhere to go but down, and there was nothing he could find to see how deep the drop was nor was there anything to slow down his fall.
Well. Dick always thought it was better to just jump right into things.
He pocketed the phone and dropped from the side, free-falling and calculating. The above-cave entrance was lower than the one in his universe, and assuming the ground was around the same distance--Dick tucked into a flip, rolling onto the floor and bracing his back against the landing.
He sat up and heard running water. He stood, rubbing his back. He got back out the phone and shined it all around, the light cutting through the darkness. He was in a pit about ten feet deeper than the regular cave floor, with sand on the floor and an underground river thirty feet to his right. Dick went to the pit walls and scaled one easily. The cave’s lights were motion-detected, and once he was on the main floor they turned on, and he turned off the phone’s light and pocketed it.
This Batcave looked mostly the same as his own, although as Dick walked to the computer he noted a few changes. The chair behind the computer, for one, was different, and the training mats on the side were much bigger than the ones at home. Dick spotted the tell-tale signs of heat-vision damage along the walls and there were colored towels stacked in a cabinet next to the training mats. The dinosaur was painted all over in purple graffiti, and the giant playing card had a hole burned through the face of the Joker. Jason’s display case looked different. Dick went over to it, curious about this change above the others. The costume inside looked like a mini version of the Batman suit, although it was sleek and mostly black, with white highlights. There was a domino mask instead of a cowl, and the plaque at the bottom read: BELOVED SON AND BROTHER.
Dick thought that that seemed much better than “a good soldier”. He touched the case and wondered what happened to this universe’s Jason, assuming that even was Jason.
The smattering of vehicles near the cave’s entrance were obviously different but Dick didn’t go inspect them, choosing instead to go to the display cases along the wall by the changing area. The first one was obviously Batman, even though all the yellow was replaced by dark grey. Made for a darker Batman, Dick thought. The second costume was nearly identical to Clark’s, except it was slimmer and fitted for a woman. He wondered what Kryptonian woman would have her super suit in the Batcave. Kara, maybe?
The next costume was a deep purple and black one that Dick recognized. Sure, Spoiler looked a little different, but Dick knew her when he saw her. He was glad to see her. The next display case was empty. The one next to that one was a sleek black costume with a hooded jacket overtop, and a red mask that pulled over the face and had stitching like Cass’s Batgirl mask across it. The main costume had a deep red outline of a bat, and it was fit for a slimmer person, probably a girl. Dick squinted at it. It looked like Red Hood, to be honest, but it also looked like Cass. It made him vaguely uncomfortable so he moved on to the next one. It was a Supergirl outfit. Dick raised his eyebrow and looked back at the other Kryptonian suit. Both had the crest of the House of El on the front, but the second one had a skirt and was very clearly Supergirl. Dick was sure he’d seen his own Kara wear a suit just like that one before.
The next one down was again Kryptonian. The body of it was like Clark’s, except there was no cape, just a leather jacket. Instead of red boots, there were combat boots that matched the jacket. Dick smiled. It reminded him of Kon’s old suit, and he wondered again why there were Kryptonian suits in the cave. He moved on to the next suit, which was like the one he’d seen in Jason’s display case, although it had a cowl that covered up the entire face--like Cass’s Batgirl suit. There were only two costumes left, and Dick nearly felt tears well up when he saw them.
They were, very clearly, Nightwing and Flamebird, and they were both very clearly around Damian-sized. Dick was sad to think that none of these suits matched the one in the other him’s closet--clearly Dick didn’t belong here. But Nightwing still did, and somehow that made Dick feel a lot better. He reached out for Nightwing’s suit. It had a cape and full face mask, which was a little ridiculous, but it was still clearly Nightwing. Dick smiled at it.
He found a pair of latex gloves with the medical stuff and went to the computer, powering it up. It asked for a password and Dick paused. He know his own Bruce’s password, of course, which was PENNYWORTH, with each letter changed to whichever one reverse alphabetized it--KVMMBDLIFS--then each letter changed to the corresponding number--11-22-13-13-2-4-12-9-6-19, and then seven added to each number. 18-29-20-20-9-11-19-16-13-26. The number added to make the final password changed every time Bruce adopted another kid, and over the holidays it was the same thing but MARTHA instead, and sometimes to jazz things up it was MARY or CATHERINE or JANET or CRYSTAL or SHIVA or TALIA or ELAINE instead of that. Dick had all of those memorized and could run a new one in a matter of minutes, but he didn’t know what this Bruce’s password would be. He tried the MARTHA and the PENNYWORTH variation, then the TALIA one. None worked and Dick knew that he wouldn’t be able to get into the computer until he either figured out more about this Bruce or asked someone. He tried WAYNE and THOMAS, which also didn’t work. Dick huffed and considered fingerprinting, then dismissed it because this was Bruce he was working with.
He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. He remembered the Kryptonian suits and leaned forward, trying KRYPTON, KAL-El, JOR-EL, KARA, ZOR-EL, KRYPTO, and everything else he could think of. He tried CRYSTAL because he remembered seeing Spoiler, then he tried JASON because that had been the password while Jason had died. Nothing worked and Dick had overrode the lock-out system but he thought an alarm would sound if he did it wrong anymore. Stupid paranoid Bruce.
Somewhere above him, Dick heard the telltale sign of the clock opening. He jumped to his feet and grabbed a grapple from where it was laying next to the keyboard, grappling up to a ledge near the top of the wall. He laid on his stomach and hoped the area would be shadowy enough that nobody would see.
Two people slid down the clock pole, one after the other. Dick recognized them with a jolt.
“He’s not even down here,” Damian complained, jumping off the pole and crossing his arms.
“He’s probably at work even though it’s Sunday, the asshole,” Duke said.
“He’s the worst,” Damian said, and Duke nodded.
“We’ll have to surprise him at work,” Duke said. “Call up Lois.”
“You call up Lois!” Damian returned. “She probably already knows where he is, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Duke said. “He’s probably moping somewhere.”
“He’s always moping somewhere when Lois is gone,” Damian scoffed. “They make me sick.”
“They’re married, weirdo,” Duke said. “Jeez. Come on, let’s go back up.”
Duke turned and Damian leapt onto his back, hanging on like a monkey. Duke screeched and tried to hold him up, but Damian climbed up higher and swung his legs around his shoulders, holding on to Duke’s head. Damian was laughing like a maniac and Duke spinned around, Damian’s laughter turning to joyful shrieks and Dick heard Duke’s own laughter underneath.
He smiled at the pair of them, wished he could leap down and swing Damian over his shoulder or give Duke a noogie or something.
Instead, three people came pattering down the stairs. Dick recognized Steph and Kara immediately, but the third person...he seemed familiar but a little off, somehow.
Damian brought the spinning to a stop and pointed at the trio.
“Duke! Invaders!”
“What kind of invaders?” Duke asked.
“Sisters!” Damian cried, and Duke charged at them. All three sidestepped.
“I take offense at the ‘sisters’ comment,” the other guy said.
“Sorry,” Damian said, and he sounded genuine. “Sisters and Kon.”
Kon? That person didn’t look like Kon, but Dick supposed that if the cloning process had been different, somehow….
“Thank you,” Kon said.
“Sure,” Damian said, and he made to climb down Duke’s back. Kara was there in an instant, basically picking him up and setting him down. She pat his head and he hissed at her, then he pointed at Steph.
“How dare you come down here without the love of my life?” Damian said accusingly. “Where is she?”
“Olive got to her first,” Steph said, her voice sing-songy, and Damian cried out in outrage and charged up the stairs. Kara high-fived Steph.
“Anyone get in contact with Cass?” Duke asked.
“Last I heard, she was in Korea,” Steph said. “Something about Slade or Shiva or someone.”
“Awesome,” Duke said, his tone saying the opposite.
“Don’t worry,” Kara said. “Today will still be special.”
“I know,” Duke said. “But it’d be cool if she could be there.”
“Yeah, well,” Kon said. “You know.” They all nodded and Dick was reminded of how his family talked about Jason in his universe. Was Cass their Jason? Was Cass Red Hood? It would explain the costume Dick’d seen, and actually--if Steph was Spoiler, Kara was Supergirl, Kon was Superboy, Duke was that other one, Damian was Nightwing or Flamebird, and the other person--Olive?--was the other one, that fit. And the last one--Lois and Bruce were married. If Lois was Kryptonian--Dick squinted back down at Kon, and yes, he looked like Lois’s twin brother but fifteen years younger. Explained why he looked different than Dick’s universe’s Kon. Dick wondered where Tim was, wondered if the display case he’d assumed to be Jason’s was actually Cass’s. No, no, it had said “son”, hadn’t it?
Regardless, the idea of Cass as Red Hood twisted inside Dick. His Cass would rather die than kill, and barely even got along with his Jason. What could’ve happened to her that would make her into Red Hood?
From upstairs, Dick heard Damian yell, “Baba’s anniversary surprise isn’t going to surprise itself!” and the older siblings looked at each other and went up above, ribbing each other and laughing, the tone shifting considerably.
Dick wondered if there was something he could do to get Cass to show up to this thing, because he knew how much Bruce appreciated it when Jason went to family functions, but it wasn’t Dick’s place to interfere and moreover, Cass was in Asia.
When he was sure he was alone, Dick flipped back down from his ledge and went back to the computer. Knowing what he knew now, he tried ELAINE, LARA, ELIZA, ALLURA, and ELLA. Then he typed in SIBYL, remembering that they’d mentioned an Olive and the only Olive in Dick’s universe that was around Damian-sized was the daughter of Calamity. None of the passwords worked. Dick contemplated going upstairs and trying to look around a little, but they were all up there and who knew how different the manor was in this universe. He tried SHIVA idly, not really thinking it would work, then he tried the names of all the dads he could think of. Dick was forced to conclude that he’d have to go upstairs to get anywhere. He crept to the stairs and started up, but then the door from above opened.
Dick froze.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it,” the guy in the doorway said. His voice was vaguely familiar but Dick couldn’t see his face, until the guy took a few steps down and saw Dick, who was just standing there, useless.
The guy--Klarion the witch boy (what)--reacted before Dick could, in that he pointed his hands at him and then everything went black.
----
Dick woke up.
The first thing he noted was that Klarion, Steph, Kara, and Kon were gathered around him, arms crossed. The second thing he noted was that everyone was in costume. The third thing he noticed was that he was tied up.
He groaned.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your surprise for your dad,” he said, and everyone exchanged a look.
“What are you talking about?” Spoiler asked.
“I thought about asking you guys for help to get into the computer but I didn’t wanna take away from your dad’s anniversary present,” Dick said, aware that he wasn’t really explaining anything.
“Shut up, Gordon,” Superboy said.
“How long have you known our secret identities?” Spoiler demanded.
“Dick Gordon doesn’t know your identities,” Dick said. He felt like the last little question about this universe’s Dick was answered, the why wasn’t he a Wayne? Well, he still didn’t know why he wasn’t a Wayne, but at least he knew this Dick had grown up with a good father. “I mean, he might, I certainly don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m from an alternate universe, and in my universe I’m Nightwing, and the first Robin, and Bruce Wayne’s oldest son.”
“Who the hell is Robin?” Superboy asked.
“It came from me!” Dick said. “My mom used to call me that.”
“Okay, well, why should we believe you?” Supergirl asked.
“Could Klarion, like, magic test me, or something?”
“I could try,” Klarion sniffed, and he sent a little stream of black sparkles at Dick, who ignored them.
“Please, I’m just trying to get back to my own universe, and I really don’t wanna disturb your anniversary thing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spoiler said. “None of your concern.”
Dick frowned--in his universe that would absolutely be his concern--but he didn’t say anything.
“Yeah, his energy signature’s way off,” Klarion said. “I’m pretty sure Z could do something about it, but I don’t know how to do that.”
“It’s fine,” Spoiler said. “We can call up the JLD and see if they can help.”
“Sure,” Dick said. “Anything.”
Superboy frowned at him and Supergirl and Spoiler started up a silent conversation. Klarion crossed his arms. Teekl meowed. A swirly light appeared behind them and Dick started.
“What?” Superboy asked.
“Turn around,” Dick said, and Superboy glared but Spoiler and Supergirl turned, just as voices started coming from the swirl.
“Are you sure this is the right one?”
“Absolutely. I matched your energy signatures. This should do it.”
The first voice was one Dick recognized--his own. The second voice Dick also recognized--Zatanna, maybe.
“Untie me,” Dick hissed, and Supergirl slashed the ropes with her heat vision. Dick stood and went to the swirl. He could vaguely see shapes on the other side, as if looking through tinted glass.
“Zatanna?” he called.
“Dick?” she responded. “Dick Grayson?”
“How do we know it’s the right alternate universe?” Spoiler asked, standing behind Dick. “I mean, what if it’s a third universe, and it’s all screwy?”
“I’m pretty sure it was an even exchange,” Zatanna said. “Go on, Gordon, step through.”
The other Dick came through the portal, and Dick sized him up. His hair was long, like Dick’d seen in the pictures. It was pulled back in a man bun. He was wearing a Metropolis Knights shirt that Dick recognized because there was a spot of discoloration along the bottom of the shirt from when Dick’d stained it.
The two Dicks looked at each other.
Dick Grayson took the phone out of his pocket and handed it over.
“This is yours,” he said.
Dick Gordon looked at it and smiled, handing Dick Grayson his own phone back. He recognized the lockscreen, and the little crack in the corner of the phone.
“Time to go back to reality,” Grayson said. “Did you have fun in my universe?”
“Not really,” Gordon said. “I don’t love how your dad operates.”
Grayson laughed, and Zatanna said, “Dick! I can only hold it open for a little longer.”
“I’m coming,” Grayson said. “Say hi to your kid for me, yeah? I didn’t talk to her, but….”
“I will,” Gordon said, smiling. Grayson moved closer to the swirl, then turned back to the three superheroes and Klarion, still standing there awkwardly.
“Hey,” Grayson said. “What was your password, underneath the code? I couldn’t figure it out.”
Spoiler looked at her siblings, then she said, “It changes, obviously, but, today it’s Pancake. The name of my dog.”
Grayson nodded and grinned, waving one more time and stepping through the swirl, and into his own Batcave.
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Defensive Driving (Colt X MC)
Book: Ride or Die
Pairing: Colt Kaneko X MC (Gabi Santos)
Rating: PG-13ish
Summary: Colt isn’t about to let Gabi participate in the big job without some additional driving lessons, but that might not be his only motivation for offering to teach her.
Word Count: 1923
Tag List: I’m not even sure who wants to be tagged for this pairing, so let me know if you want to be added. @tmarie82 @choiceswreckedme @debramcg1106 @boneandfur @lizeboredom @i-miss-trr @alegria1580 @mfackenthal
Colt leans against the side of Gabi's car, arms crossed, with that same smug look that gets under her skin every time. "Okay, Gabi, if you are going to insist on doing this, I need to take you out for another driving lesson first."
Gabi rolls her eyes. "I passed my driver's license test with flying colors, as you know. Is this just a lame excuse to get me to hang out with you again?" As much as he infuriates her, she finds some strange satisfaction in their witty banter. She gets the feeling that he’s used to girls falling all over themselves for him, not that she’s paid much attention to the whole handsome, dark and broody vibe he’s got going on. She’s here for Logan, even if he doesn’t seem to want her here right now.
“Oh, Gabi.” Colt laughs and shakes his head. “I know you’re smarter than the average eighteen-year-old, but you are just about as naive as they come. Did you already forget what happened in the parking garage? You think you are ready for anything that could happen?”
God she hates when he’s right, but she could do without his condescending tone. “Like you are so much older and wiser than me.”
“I may not be much older, but I’m much more streetwise. If you don’t want to do this, I have better things I could be doing with my time. I just don’t need you messing this up for everyone, so if you are still in, let’s go.” Colt opens her driver side door and waits.
Gabi looks at the stairs leading to Logan’s loft where he stormed off some time ago. She wishes it were him taking her out for lessons, but the more she’s tried to be a part of all this, the more he’s pushed her away. Maybe if she can prove to him she can handle it, he’ll change his mind. “I don’t know how much more we are going to accomplish in one lesson, but if it makes you happy, fine.”
Gabi gets in the driver seat and Colt grabs several orange traffic cones and puts them in the backseat before sitting next to her in the passenger seat and punching an address into his phone’s GPS. Gabi follows the directions and a short while later they arrive at an abandoned factory with an enormous empty parking lot. There’s a few street lights around the perimeter, but other than that, its fairly dark.
Colt gets out of the car and sets up a narrow corridor of traffic cones behind her car spaced several yards apart, about the length of football field in total, and then gets back in beside Gabi. “We are going to focus on defensive driving today. If all goes well, we’ll get out of there undetected, but if any obstacles come up, you need to know how to get around them, so to start, back up between the cones all the way to the end.”
The width of the corridor is barely enough to clear her tires. Gabi checks her mirrors and then looks over her shoulders down the middle of the path. She steps on the gas and is pleased with herself as she gets through the first and second set of cones without running them over.
“Stop!” Colt commands. “I hate to break it to you, but if you have someone after you, five miles per hour isn’t going to cut it. I want you going at least sixty by the time you reach the end. Start over.”
“I was just warming up,” she lies. It was taking all her concentration to stay in a straight line that she hadn’t even given a thought to speed. She sets herself up again and then pushes down on the pedal, quickly gaining speed but running over the second set of cones. “Oops.”
Colt presses his lips into a thin line. “And that’s where you would have been caught already. Start again.” Gabi tries over and over, making it a little further each time before she veers off course, but Colt still isn’t satisfied. “Maybe if I go stand at the end, the thought of hitting me will be motivation enough.”
Gabi laughs for the first time all night. “As obnoxious as you can be, I don’t want to plow you over with my car...most of the time.”
“Maybe I need to try harder then.” Colt smirks and something about the way his eyes flicker in the moonlight makes her feel a certain way she doesn’t want to feel about him. He can be such an arrogant asshole, but when it’s just the two of them, he seems to forget every so often he’s trying to shut everyone out, and lets the real Colt slip through.
Gabi’s more determined than ever this time, not just to prove to Colt but to herself as well that she can do it. She focuses on keeping the wheel steady as she looks back and goes. Her heart races as she gets closer and closer to the end, afraid to mess it up at the last second. When she cleanly sails through the last two cones, she is so excited she almost forgets to put the car in park. She leans over and hugs Colt before quickly retreating as heat rises in her cheeks once she realizes she got swept up in the moment. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away there."
"That's twice tonight. Keep doing that I might think you are starting to like me or something." She still detects a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but his smile seems genuine for once.
The possibility of Colt wanting her to want him shouldn’t give Gabi butterflies, but it does. She looks straight ahead out the windshield to avoid giving herself away. “Alright then, what’s next?"
Over the next couple of hours Colt sets up several obstacles and scenarios, teaching Gabi how to maneuver around each one. There are a couple spin outs and traffic cone casualties, but for the most part, she thinks she's done well and feels much more prepared.
It’s dark and nobody is around once they get back to the shop. “Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was again. I’ve gotta get home before my dad gets home from work.”
“I’ll take you,” Colt offers.
“No, that’s okay. I can walk.” Gabi doesn’t know why she’s saying no when she wants to say yes, but she still never wants to give in to him no matter what it is.
Colt lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know, if I offer to do something nice for you Gabi, you can just say yes for once. You don’t really want to walk home alone at this time of night, do you?”
Gabi shakes her head. Of course she doesn't, nor does she hate the idea of him taking her. “No I don’t.”
“That’s what I thought.” Colt grabs an extra helmet, handing it to her.
“Oh,” Gabi tentatively takes the helmet. “I didn’t know we were going to ride that.”
“Don’t tell me you are surprised by this, Gabi. If you know anything about me by now, you know I only drive cars when absolutely necessary. Now I can show you why.”
“I guess,” she replies nervously, all the horror stories her father has ever told her about motorcycles swirling around in her head. “But please be careful.”
Colt swings his leg over the bike and turns back to her. “I know it’s your first time. I’ll go easy on you.” He winks at her before he turns back around. She knows he’s talking about the motorcycle, but the innuendo makes her blush instantly. She quickly puts her helmet on to cover it up and climbs on behind him. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Is there somewhere to hold on? That doesn’t seem to be the case so she timidly puts her hands on either side of his waist, and Colt Chuckles. “You are going to need to hang on much tighter than that.”
Gabi scoots up further and slides her arms around Colt securely. His leather jacket rides up just enough for her to feel his taut ab muscles through his grey t-shirt. She's close enough to smell the leather mixed with his earthy scented shampoo. Of course she's always found him attractive, but taking him all in like this is almost overwhelming and she hopes if he feels how fast her heart is fluttering in her chest, he assumes it's just because she's nervous about the ride.
Colt Rev's the engine and takes off through the open garage door. The jolt's enough to make her feel unsteady and she holds onto him for dear life. He rounds the corner right away and she just about panics, feeling like she's going to slide right off, but she doesn't as Colt smoothly steers back upright. It feels like they are going really fast but when she checks the speedometer, he's going just about the speed limit and she knows it's only for her sake. Once her body decides she's not going to die and returns to its normal state, she actually starts to enjoy herself and can see why Colt likes it so much. All the cliches are true, and it's a sort of freedom and exhilaration you just can't get driving a car.
Colt must notice her hold on him loosening as she relaxes because he starts to pick up speed little by little as if waiting for her to react, but she doesn't. She feels safe with him. He misses a turn, but he's got her address typed in, so she assumes he's taking a voluntary detour to prolong the ride, and she's not going to complain. Even if she did get lost with him, at this point she wouldn't mind.
Despite taking the long route home, the ride is over all too soon. Colt stops in front of her house and they both dismount and take off their helmets. "You didn't hate that at all, did you?" Colt asks with a knowing grin on his face.
"I won't be giving up my four wheels for two any time soon, but I can see the appeal now." Gabi bites her lip, realizing how uncomfortably close they are standing to one another.
Colt lifts a hand to her face and gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She holds her breath as his fingers slowly trail down the back of her neck sending shivers down her spine, but then he swiftly pulls his back, clearing his throat. "Your, uh, hair was all messy from the helmet."
She's almost certain he was about to kiss her before he changed his mind, and she's both relieved and severely disappointed that he didn't. It felt right in the moment, but now she's thinking of Logan. He's told her to forget about him, but she know that's not what he really wants. But what does she want? "Thank you. And thanks for the ride...and the lessons."
Colt gives her shoulder a squeeze. "Just don't go telling everyone how charitable I've been. We wouldn't want them thinking I've gone soft."
Gabi laughs. "We wouldn't want that now, would we? Goodnight, Colt."
"Goodnight, Gabi." Cold puts his helmet back on and rides off, the sound of his motorcycle trailing off in the distance as she goes inside to get whatever sleep she can before the morning comes.
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Is 'Ratchet has a nice day' a sufficient writing prompt?
yes, of course! This ficlet is called Still Waters and I’ll probably throw it on ao3 tomorrow after I edit it / after work bc I really like it. Post-war, post-LL, inexplicable happy ending with a deeply dreamlike feeling. Married Dratchet, bc that’s my speed.
The space between patients was a good one. Sunlight came into the corridor through the skylights above and soaked into his plating, doors of the examination rooms built thick and insulated so the air hung still. Ratchet let himself sit in the bench while he read through the notes on his next patient, warmth from the solar radiation loosening up his aching joints.
When he got to the examination room, his assistant was still there, bouncing on his heels as music warbled out of the speakers they’d rigged up in the corners of the room. The patient was hooked up to as many readouts as was feasible, but was still swinging his legs in time with the beat.
“Oh, hey Ratch,” Beacon said with a lazy salute. “Got you a Cybercrosis case. Skywave, this is Doctor Ratchet, he’ll be handling your case while I assist.”
Skywave smiled a little pinched smile at Ratchet. A couple years wasn’t near long enough for anyone to get used to the idea of Cybercrosis being easily curable. Ratchet could understand, still had to catch himself on the diagnosis every time. But Skywave wasn’t far along and the cure they’d been improving ever since Luna I was a perfect fit for him. Ratchet got him settled and set up in the energon filtration system, and made sure Beacon had scheduled up the follow-up appointment while he walked him through the theory of the cure. Beacon was a promising medic, Ratchet hoped he’d stick around after his apprenticeship was over. His students kept leaving to found hospitals all over the galaxy and it’d be good to have a helping hand around the clinic.
After Skywave’s appointment, Ratchet excused himself to take his mid-shift break. He was partway through a book Nautica had recommended him and he was hoping to finish it before they saw each other next. The book had a nice audio narrator, so he took a walk around the neighborhood while he listened, grabbed a few things from one of the corner store where they didn’t mind if you kept your audio feed running and limited your interactions to the business essentials. The air was swirling with sweet scents from the snack stands Drift could never resist. Ratchet didn’t feel hungry yet, so he just let all of that soak into his chemoreceptors and imagined how they’d taste.
After break, he observed Beacon on some simple cases, fixing broken limbs, replacing parts, cleaning and upgrading. It was a quiet day at the clinic, the way Ratchet liked them. He took a call from the local hospital, looking to see when he could act as lead for a fairly complicated surgery, spark chamber embrittlement. Ratchet put them on his calendar for the day after next after checking to make sure the patient wasn’t reaching the terminal stages yet. Then he had to call up First Aid and see if he still had those old case files on the embrittlement surgeries they’d attended over together. Ratchet had them somewhere, but he was still at the “dump all the files in a pile“ stage of his ongoing file organization project. He’d get to it eventually.
The night nurse, Latency, came in a few minutes early and they caught up on a few administrative things they’d been meaning to talk about. Beacon headed out while their heads were still together, going over their supply ordering calendar. Ratchet was reminded of the time with a jolt and stood up out of his seat midsentence. “I forgot—”
Latency grinned and waved him off. “Go! We can talk this over tomorrow.”
Ratchet nodded and made his way out through the waiting room, where a few patients were filling out forms with the help of Latency’s apprentice, whose name Ratchet still hadn’t memorized. They all paused to wave him goodnight as he hustled through. He stepped out into the cool blue night air, brushing invisible specks off his plating as he went. He checked his chrono and realized it wasn’t nearly as late as he’d imagined, barely two minutes over his habitual departure time. He chuckled, shaking his head at himself. Getting all flustered about being two minutes late, some things never changed.
“Hey there, handsome. You waiting for someone?” A mech strode down the walkway, hands resting loosely on his hips and a sharp-toothed smile playing on his face.
Ratchet groaned and reached out to grab Drift by the wrist and pull him close. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, smiling into the crook of Drift’s neck where Drift wouldn’t be able to see it. Drift threw his arms around Ratchet’s back, fingers tracing gentle circles on his plating.
Drift hummed agreeably. “Sure am,” he said. “You ready to go? Need anything from home?”
“I’m good,” Ratchet said.
They stood there for a long moment, nobody willing to step back first. Eventually, Drift pulled away, trailing a hand over Ratchet’s arm to catch his hand and he did. Ratchet squeezed back and smiled at Drift. Under the white streetlights, Drift’s plating practically glowed, whole and perfect. Drift caught him staring and ducked his head, biting at his lower lip in that old habit of his.
“How was your day?” Ratchet asked, starting them down the street. The storefronts on this block were bright at night, panels of light across the walkway guiding them towards the rail hub.
“It was good,” Drift said. “I like teaching, you know. It’s good.”
Ratchet liked Drift teaching too, better than the days he worked the perimeter of the city scouring the wilderness for dangerous creatures or orbital security. Drift was untethered, you couldn’t expect him to be content doing the same thing every day like Ratchet did. It was enough to ask him to stay planetside with Ratchet.
“I’d love to see you teach sometime,” Ratchet said.
“You could take a day off any time,” Drift said. “Beacon could fill in, or call up one of your old students. Or even just close the clinic for the day; it’s not like there aren’t other hospitals.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Ratchet said. The train pulled up and slid to a silent halt, doors opening into the brightly lit space. Drift and Ratchet crowded together in the back, nearly in each other’s laps, Drift’s head tilted back against Ratchet’s chest as they talked over the day and the little things that had filled it. The space filled up as they went along, packed to bursting when they hit the shore and Drift and Ratchet squeezed their way out onto the beach. There was already a crowd and music going, lights spotted along the shoreline and the moon bright above. Drift pinged out for them and immediately set out through the crowd to meet up with their friends.
Ratchet spotted Thunderclash first, a head and shoulders above the crowd even if Rung hadn’t been riding on his shoulders, laughing away. Thunders spotted Ratchet and Drift and beamed at them. The rest of the crew parted like the sea and folded them in, surrounded by a mass of patting hands and careening conversations. Someone pushed a drink in Ratchet’s hand and Thunderclash offered up a toast.
They hung close by Thunderclash, Ratchet and Drift each with one arm slung around the other’s waist as they chatted and sipped new mixes Swerve had dreamed up. Thunderclash drew out a few stories, forming worlds with his hands as he went. Eventually Rodimus rolled up, fashionably late as always. The music had picked up a driving rhythm and Rodimus came over already half dancing.
“Ratch, can I steal your conjunx for a song?” Rodimus said with a laugh, overcharged slur to his words. Ratchet rolled his optics and waved Drift on, watching as the two speedsters scooted out into the crowd of dancers. The two friends grinned at each other and twirled until they were lost in the crowd. They came back a few songs later, Rodimus clinging to Drift’s back like a sucker as Drift lurched, half collapsing under Rodimus’s weight and his uncontrollable giggles. Drift dumped him out on the sand and flopped on the ground, watching Ratchet from across the crowd.
Ratchet made his apologies to Thunders and went to his conjunx, still lying on the ground in a pose he probably thought was alluring, covered in sand. “Having fun down there?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Tons of fun,” Drift agreed. “You should pick me up, I’m tired.”
“Nah,” Ratchet said. “That’s just you trying to trick me into getting dragged into a sand wrestle with you and Rod. I know your tricks.”
“See?” Rodimus said. “I told you, he’s onto us!”
Drift pouted. “You’re no fun, Ratch.”
“I just don’t want sand in my hip joints again. Once was plenty. Twice was excessive.”
Drift shrugged, not contrite at all. With a quick roll back onto his shoulders, he threw himself back onto his feet and offered Rodimus a hand up before pressing himself up against Ratchet’s side again, sand gritty between their plating. Rodimus hooked his thumb over his shoulder, mouthing something that looked like “Finding Magnus,” as he backed into the crowd. “It’s a beautiful night,” Drift said.
“Yeah, it is,” Ratchet agreed.
“Thanks for coming out with me.”
“Of course,” Ratchet said. “How’s our favorite terror?”
“Roddy’s great,” Drift said. “He wants to take me asteroid surfing again.”
“Of course he does,” Ratchet said. “You going?”
“Said I had to check with you, I wasn’t sure if it’d conflict with our plan for the anniversary trip.”
Ratchet tipped his helm against Drift’s and rested a moment. “We’ll check when we get home. You want to find a spot to watch the show?”
They ended up sitting out on the pier, waves lapping up against their ankles. The shore was packed, mechs shoulder to shoulder as they watched the night sky. Ratchet had completely lost sight of the rest of the crew in the thick of it.
The first firework split the sky with a shockwave that sent waves slapping against the pier. Drift startled, but he was smiling when Ratchet looked over. The next explosion wasn’t any quieter, and Ratchet lowered his audial sensitivity with a wince. Fireworks were a lot louder up close, when you shot them off in atmosphere. Drift jumped again at the third blast and someone banged their knee against the back of Ratchet’s head.
He turned to Drift to ask but Drift was already speaking. “Do you want—”
“—to go home?”
He snorted and crouched on the pier, scooping Drift up into his arms as he stood. Drift wriggled and started laughing, throwing his arms around Ratchet’s neck like he thought a medic frame wasn’t capable of lifting a lightweight speedster like him. Ratchet didn’t complain, about that or the sand. The other spectators on the pier gave them dirty looks as Ratchet picked his way back to the shore. Frag them. The lightshow happened every year and went for hours, they weren’t missing anything. Ratchet didn’t set Drift down till they were back at the rail station for fear of losing him in the crowd. From up there the crowd was a shifting chaos of bioights in the dark but the explosions were still strut-shakingly loud.
On the train home they sat in seats across from one another, alone in the railcar. “I can’t believe we bailed on our first date in months,” Drift said.
“It was my fault. I just don’t like being surrounded by that many people,” Ratchet said. “Sorry if I ruined your evening.”
“Don’t lie, I know you left because I wasn’t enjoying it.” Drift smiled, a little sad. “I thought it’d be easier.”
“We’ll catch the second half at home,” Ratchet said. “We’ll get up on the roof and watch, you can bring those ridiculous snacks you like.”
“Best of both worlds,” Drift said. He swapped over to the seat next to Ratchet and cozied up against his side. They’d be home in a few minutes, and Ratchet would manage to forget the keycode again. They’d wander through their hab with the lights off and bump into everything and each other gathering up snacks and blankets and whatever else Drift suddenly needed desperately. They’d curl up under the stars together and they’d be home and everything would be good.
Primus, what a life he’d lived.
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Starry-Eyed
*Based on the beautiful artwork by @crysptrsh, please go check it out!*
Summary: Skout accidentally encounters the Nomad when everyone else is too far off to be of assistance. They share a bit of an unwilling soul search, and the spittoon girl learns that the world is a lot more complicated than she wanted to believe.
And some things shine brighter than the stars.
Skout had done it. She still couldn’t believe it, that she’d managed to accomplish what so many others had failed to do for over a century, but here she was, standing in front of a simple animal snare that had caught prey unlike any she’d ever expected.
Skout had captured the Nomad.
It was a bit of a lucky thing though, if the girl was honest with herself. She and the crew had been traveling into near-sunset when they had found a rare patch of cactus and desert shrubs, spanning a good several miles at least and very difficult to navigate. Toth, spirited and impatient, had ordered the majority of her group to start working through the undergrowth despite its treachery. The Y’dala woman herself took a smaller team to split up and ride around the perimeter – a task that would take the rest of the evening.
Of course Skout had begged to join, but ever since the encounter with the beast in the Nowhere storm, Toth had been bouncing between avoiding her spittoon girl in harsh silence and hovering over her like a mother hen. It was confusing, and frustrating, and Skout was just about ready to tear her hair out.
Jethro had been the one to suggest that someone stay behind with the larger wagon and set up camp, since it was obvious they’d be here for possibly a few days. Toth was against the idea until she realized it’d be a good way to both keep Skout out of harm’s way and ignore her at the same time, so she had assigned the poor girl the job with no room for further argument. One other Dandy-Lion was voted to keep her company, “just in case”, and then the group had departed.
After the tents were set up and a fire was built, Skout was left to her own devices as her companion decided he was taking an afternoon nap. He told her, settling himself onto the dusty desert ground, that the likelihood of the Nomad being here – or anyone really – was pretty slim. Skout was usually optimistic but she felt a little inclined to agree with him.
So now, two hours after arriving, she could maybe forgive herself for being a little slack-jawed at the sight.
The Nomad was stuck in a bit of a squat, his right arm inside the low-hanging, hollowed-out cactus arm Scout had set up to snare an animal for dinner. He was very still and very wide-eyed, left hand still gripping at the crook of his elbow in an interrupted attempt to pull out of the trap.
“You, yer arm’s stuck,” Skout said quietly, dumbly. She shook her head to snap out of her shock. “What’re you doin’ here, Nomad?”
That was enough to pull her catch out of his own freeze up, because he started tugging more frantically at his trapped appendage. The girl scampered up quickly in order to stop his struggling and the Nomad flinched back so violently he fell on his behind. His arm was bent at an awkward angle, uncomfortable but probably not painful.
“Hey, hey now, don’t be doin’ that! You’ll pull a muscle or somethin’!” She lightly scolded. “What am I s’pposed to tell everyone if you go gettin’ yerself hurt?”
But the Nomad wasn’t listening. He looked terrified, keeping as much distance between them as he could while still tugging desperately at the cactus snare. When Skout inched closer his shoulders jolted up to his neck and he tried to clap his hands through the plant. It didn’t work and the poor thing got a gloveful of prickly needles for his efforts.
Skout wasn’t really sure what to do at this point. She could go back to the camp to grab her fellow sleeping Dandy-Lion, but it was a fifteen minute push through the brush one way and leaving the Nomad alone was just asking for him to escape.
She could shout for help, maybe, but the search party had set out hours ago and would have good distance, careful searching or not. It was also starting to get dark, and she didn’t have a flare or anything to signal where she was.
The best option would have been to bring the Nomad back herself, but she faced two problems with this. First, she was recovering from her injuries. The moment the girl had gotten off her crutches she had demanded to jump back into the fray, and it was the only debate she’d managed to win against Toth since the incident. The exertion of walking alone for this long was difficult, much less hauling along an unwilling companion.
Secondly, the Nomad was acting…much more skittish than the last time she’d interacted with him. Sure, they’d been pursuing and evading each other for weeks now, and there wasn’t any doubts about which members of the group were willing to bring him back in less than one piece, but something about this was…different.
Wrong.
So, with a quiet resigned huff and a painful sigh, Skout sat against a brittle shrub to consider her dilemma. She brought up her legs halfway to her chest and draped her arms tiredly across her knees, eyes distant while the Nomad heaved and panted in front of her.
“What’m I supposed to do?” The girl near-whispered. “If I go messin’ this up again, Toth could get in a whole lotta trouble again.”
The two made brief unexpected eye-contact before the Nomad’s face turned abruptly to the side, still clearly terrified. Skout huffed again and picked absentmindedly at a scab on her thumb.
“And you ain’t been helpin’ things much, Friend. Actin’ all afraid a’ me like that. I ain’t that scary…am I?”
The Nomad blinked up at the girl and gave a tiny, timid shake of his head, and Skout frowned.
“Ya say that, but I’m not much reassured, Mister Nomad.” She looked at him again, studied him a little more closely. “Why’s everyone so upset at you, anyhow? I know you’ve been doin’ magic and all that rule-breakin’ stuff, but…what makes ya so special to get everyone up in a tilly?”
The words made her captive tense as a rattlesnake. He stopped struggling to stare at her, an expression on his face that was half pleading, half disbelief, and mixed together to form 100% distress. Skout would have been unnerved, but everything about the last few weeks had been unnerving and she was sick of the feeling.
“And, why ya gotta be bundled up so much too? The desert is plenty cold enough at night for that, but it ain’t so kind durin’ the day.” She scooted up to him on her butt, green eyes starting to fill with the inquisitiveness she used to be more famous for.
Whatever the Nomad was seeing, however, he wasn’t liking at all. He tried to kick backwards, and when his trapped arm stopped the movement he instead tried to hide fetal-position behind the hollowed cactus. Skout was having none of it.
“Come on, Friend, I ain’t gonna hurtcha! I just wanna,” the girl paused. “Actually, I don’t really much know what I want. I guess. Maybe…” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I could just see yer face? Is that alright?”
Her captive uncurled just a bit to watch warily. His gaze drifted down her body, and Skout realized with a start that he was looking for weapons. She almost snorted in irritated amusement.
“Nah, I ain’t got nothin’ dangerous on me, Toth has been real weird lately, not lettin’ me do nothin’ useful. I dunno why she still wants me here, if I’m bein’ honest.”
The Nomad leaned around the snare, closer than he’d been willing to get before, and Skout’s breath almost caught at the brightness of his eyes in the growing dusk. She tentatively reached a hand out, not quite closed into a fist.
“Can I? Please? Just one look?”
Her fingers brushed against the rim of his hat, but he didn’t wince away. The Nomad remained completely rigid, with a slight twitch to his body like a reluctant marionette with no other way out. Skout took the hat off and turned it this way and that, respectful but curious. She didn’t notice nervous tears forming in her captive’s face.
Next came the bandana, wrapped so tightly around the Nomad’s face and neck it was a miracle he wasn’t suffocating, in her opinion. She gently pulled it down and made a startled noise when she couldn’t see an obvious mouth.
“Uh, well.” Skout stammered as the Nomad made himself a little smaller. “I uh, I’m sure lots a folks don’t have mouths! It ain’t that uncommon, promise!”
But she was even more eager to see the rest of his face now, and the head scarf was grabbed a little faster, with a little less consideration of his comfort level. The Nomad jerked back at her action and ended up coming right out of the headwear. It remained stuck in Skout’s hand, but she didn’t notice.
Because the sight before her was nothing short of incredible.
Pitch, fluffy hair swept up in a current of soft innocence, highlighting a slim, childlike face. Eyes, once tempered by so much faded orange, now glowed in beautiful brilliance against the deepest of dark skin, and the tears still prickling at their corners added the illusion of liquid light circling two dazzling moons. The lack of mouth and nose were no longer disconcerting, but ethereal. As if to complete the celestial picture was the sky, finally reaching that point of showing stars but not so opaque as to obscure everything else.
It was unlike anything Skout had ever seen before.
It was magical.
“Flippin’ flapjacks,” she breathed, drawing the scarf close to her collarbone. “That’s, this – you’re beautiful.”
The Nomad remained still, tears threatening to spill and shimmer down unmarred cheeks. He – they – made a move as if to take the scarf back, then stopped and recoiled. Skout blinked dazedly and slowly came out of her trance.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she passed the piece of clothing back and the Nomad accepted it gratefully, managing to wrap it back on properly even with only one hand available. The bandana came back up to cover the bottom half of their face, and with a hesitant tap they took back their hat, pressing it snugly on top of their head like a security blanket.
The girl tried to get the amazing image out of her mind, but no amount of blinking or headshaking could do it. She picked at her scab without looking at it.
“So uh, I don’t s’ppose yer gonna come back with me if I ask nicely, huh.” Skout grimaced when she received an incessant ‘no’ in all forms of body language. “That’s what I thought. Dang it, How’m I gonna explain this to everyone?”
Her captive seemed just a little less fearful for their life, because a half shrug was her answer. The spittoon girl sighed and looked up at the evening sky.
“You know, there’s so many stories ‘bout before magic disappeared. Sometimes Toth tells ‘em to me, when she’s in a good enough mood. It always sounds so amazin’, and I’ve always wanted to see it with my own eyes.”
Skout went quiet for a few seconds and just watched the stars twinkle. “And then I gotta chance to meet you, and – now don’t get me wrong, those little critters you make are right plum outta the fantasy books, but this…I ain’t never realized how special it really is, I guess. You’re really special. Honestly. And I wanna help Toth and help her people, that’s why I’m still goin’ with her even though…even though she ain’t been too happy with me lately. But I don’t…what happens after all that? Where do you go? Why does El Ray want you so bad?”
Something anxious and troubled leaked into the Nomad’s eyes then, and if Skout didn’t know better she’d say they knew exactly what would happen to them. But that was impossible. It was probably just the fear talking.
“When we came here today, nobody really thought we’d see you. I think Toth’s the only one who wanted to search this place. Maybe…just this once,” she hesitated, and stared into the subdued radiance of the Nomad’s eyes. “Maybe I could just…not find nothin’ in this trap. Maybe it just sprung by itself somehow, cause that, that happens sometimes, right?”
The Nomad’s expression was bordering towards disbelief and the first inkling of hope, even as tears still glimmered along their skin. Skout wanted to cry too, at the unfairness of it all. She took ahold of her captive’s free hand and clasped it in her own, willing them to look at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Twenty minutes later, the sleeping Dandy-Lion woke to find Skout stumbling into the camp, dirty and tired and rather listless. He propped himself up on one arm and watched her.
“Did the traps catch anything?”
And Skout looked at the night sky again, at stars that were once so inviting when she had been younger, and more naïve to the complicated nature of things. They weren’t like that anymore.
“Nah, nothin’. I think you’re right, ain’t nothing worthwhile here at all.”
They weren’t like that, because she had started to lose that naivety, that stupid belief in a black and white world and her ability to know the difference.
But in return, she had received a glimpse of something even more magnificent. Something worth protecting even if she didn’t know how to do it yet. And it wasn’t just a visible sight, either.
Because after she’d freed them, before the two parted ways again and she’d started the trek back –
The Nomad had hugged her.
I love this series and I love crysptrsh’s amazing talent and I love the fluffy-haired Nomad theory. I just love everything tbh - thanks for reading!
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Trauma (OhmCat)
Title: Trauma
Pairing: OhmCat
Rating: T
Word Count: 3025.
A/N: I meant to have this up last Tuesday, but I had some important family issues to resolve last week and then I kinda just forgot. I haven't posted anything in almost two months, and I felt bad, so I tried to really finish this to put it out. One of my favorite rare pairs that I didn’t know I needed, so yeah, hope you enjoy this mess of words. Also, little warning, there’s talk of torture and violence, and some emotional trauma, so steer clear if you don’t like that kind of stuff.
It was bad.
No.
It was absolutely heartbreaking.
The way he cowered in the corner, no words coming out of his mouth, only silent tears that trailed down bloodied skin, it made Ohm's flesh crawl.
The way he shook when he heard the smallest sound, body quivering, a leaf of a human. His fragility ever present, vulnerability overflowing.
The way he bowed his head in defeat, hands cold and pale against his lap as they picked at fingers, scabs formed and peeled away, nails caked in dried blood and dirt, chipped and broken in all the wrong places.
This wasn't the Wildcat he knew.
The man that usually stood at 6'5 with a teasing smirk and a witty remark to every jab poked at him, the man who almost always smiled in every situation, the man who was their best interrogator and gunman (the latter argued by Delirious, of course), was now nothing but a shivering shell crumpled in on himself, almost devoid of life. And it fucked Ohm up to see him like that.
Wildcat was his best friend, his ride or die. And he had been for years. The second they met, they hit it off. Probably because Ohm was extremely useful with weapons (specifically knives) and his own interrogation experiences were on Wildcat's level, and it impressed the younger. Or maybe it was because of Ohm's soft spoken and shy, but friendly demeanor that harshly contrasted with Wildcat's own that drew him in.
Whatever it was, they were always paired together on heists, mainly because Ohm could calm down the rage within the younger man that came with the jobs they pursued. Only Ohm could get him to stop blaming himself when things went sideways. And only Wildcat could bring Ohm out of his panic attacks that happed every once in a while, only Wildcat could get him to celebrate with the rest of the gang at the nearest club, which was one of the hardest missions at all, considering Ohm's introverted ways.
They protected each other, had each others' backs, and promised nothing bad would happen to the other.
And Ohm broke that promise.
The evidence was sprawled out before him, written in blood, sweat, and tears.
He wasn't there for Wildcat when he needed him the most. And now his best friend was practically unrecognizable.
Ohm stepped the smallest bit closer, kneeling down and reaching out for the chains around Wildcat's feet. He pulled the keys out of his back pocket, also covered in blood, and was quick to unlock them, half releasing his companion from the metal that bound him.
Wildcat wouldn't look at him, whether that be from trauma or disappointment, Ohm didn't know, but it didn't stop him from unlocking the younger's hands and fully freeing him from his prison.
When Ohm found out Wildcat had been kidnapped, taken on the way back from a supply run in the middle of the day by a rival gang, he was furious, erratic. Ohm was usually pretty contained and rational, but when it came to his best friend being in danger, he lost it all. He had gotten into fight after fight with Vanoss, their leader, claiming they weren't trying hard enough to find the man without piercing blue eyes.
He drank himself to the brink of death and cried in Wildcat's room every night. He missed out on training and meetings, just to sit at his laptop and go over evidence gone over a thousand times before. And when he did show up to said training and meetings, he was still hammered and useless to the gang. He slept with Wildcat's helmet on his nightstand, staring at it until his eyes hurt and his mind was forced to sleep.
And when they finally found Wildcat's location after 3 1/2 week's of endless searching, Ohm was the first to go in. Delirious told him to wait, that he would need backup, but Ohm went that night, blood boiling and on a murderous rampage, to the abandoned building across the city they were keeping his best friend, their hostage.
He slaughtered almost everyone, with the exception of the gang leader, some green eyed pretty boy who wanted leverage on Los Santos' most feared gang. With him, Ohm watched him suffer, watched him try to run after putting a bullet in his leg. Watched him cry tears of pain as he drove a knife through his hand. And finally, watched him choke on his own blood after Ohm slit his throat.
When the rest of the BBS gang got to the scene, Ohm was in the middle of the room, covered in blood, surrounded by corpses.
And now he was here, coaxing Wildcat out of the corner while his other friends brought a car around front and guarded the perimeter, just in case.
He knew Vanoss would scold him for the suicide mission, but he also knew he did what had to be done, and, in his current state of mind, their leader wouldn't dare berate him. After all, Ohm did get Wildcat back, and that was the whole point of the mission.
Ohm held out his hand to the timid man, hoping for him to reach his own bloodied digits out to grasp onto the equally colored one. But what he got in return was a shaky inhale and a man pressing himself further against the wall.
It was almost incomprehensible to him. Wildcat was one of the strongest, both physically and mentally, in the gang. He had been tortured before, that Ohm knew, and never did he even break a sweat. Yet here he was, scared of everyone and everything, even his own best friend, because of something this other gang did to him.
He sighed, staring into those blue eyes he had learned to appreciate and rely on. The blue eyes that now held nothing but cold fear and dull life, anything good pushed far back into the locked parts of Wildcat's mind.
Ohm didn't know what to do.
And that was a first.
He was known in the gang as the planner, the one who had A to Z, and who always knew the right call. He saved their lives countless times and could redirect the original plan into a new one in seconds. Vanoss let him lead half the time, the other times he stayed as the right hand man, giving the owl masked man his thoughts and inputs every so often as they began a heist.
But right now? He was clueless.
He couldn't carry Wildcat, the man was a good 6 inches taller than him and had a lot of muscles that weighed a bit too much for Ohm to all carry.
His only hope was for Wildcat to trust him....
And by the looks of it, that wasn't happening.
Ohm tried to rely on his voice, his harsh, strained voice that he did his best to turn calm, but it came out choppy and unsure.
"Wildcat?"
The taller man hid his face in his own shoulder, wrapping his body up in his arms, shaking when Ohm spoke his name.
So, code name was out of the question.
"....Tyler...?"
That made Wildcat peek, but only ever so slightly. He wouldn't reply to anything Ohm did or said. And it made the smaller man even more concerned than he already was.
Ohm placed a hand on Wildcat's knee, which prompted the younger to jump, pushing himself away from his friend, scooting back until he was against a completely different wall. New tears streamed down his face, and he brought a hand up to cover his features, as if to hide himself from Ohm.
The hazel eyed man stood, walking over to the opposite wall Tyler now claimed as his own, grabbing the hand in front of the tortured face and pulling it into his own. He expected a smile or a bit of trust, but Tyler's eyes widened in pure terror, his breathing became erratic, and he desperately tried to pull his hand out of Ohm's grasp. The standing man's eyebrows furrowed in worry, but before he could comprehend what was going on, Tyler's body went completely limp, his head hitting the dirt ground with a small thud.
Ohm's own eyes now widened, and he quickly pulled out his phone, calling Vanoss while checking Tyler's pulse.
He was still alive, thankfully.
"Ohm? Where the hell are you? Do you have Tyler?"
Vanoss picked up on the second ring, and Ohm was quick to respond.
"I have him. We're in the room next to the main office...it's uh, got a guy against the wall, he's missing an eye. Wildcat, he passed out. I can't carry him myself, send someone in?"
It was silent for a few moments on the other side, but then Ohm heard a shuffling and his leader's voice rang through his cell.
"Yeah, no problem, I'm sending in Delirious......Ohm?"
"Yeah?"
He heard Vanoss sigh.
"Good work."
Ohm would've smiled had he not been sitting next to an unconscious Tyler, but he did respond with a small "thanks" before hanging up the phone and focusing on sitting Tyler upright.
A few minutes later and Delirious was helping carry the unconscious Wildcat out of the building, Ohm on the right and the other masked man on his left, both of Wildcat's arms over their shoulders, his feet dragging behind them as they pulled him into the van Moo had running in front of the building.
As soon as Tyler's body was in the car, laying in the back seat, Ohm felt the wave of relief hit him. Wildcat was alive. He wasn't okay, but he was alive, and all the pain, the fear, the anger, it sunk out of Ohm's bones with one big sigh, and not five minutes later, Ohm was dead asleep against Delirious' shoulder, body heavy with exhaustion and mind finally giving in with the discovery of his friend.
———————————————————————
Three weeks after Wildcat's return, things were off. There was still no curse filled laughter, no loud complaining about how unfair games are, no smart ass comments when Vanoss asked for something to be done.
For the first week, Tyler had been in the infirmary with their medic, Brock. He needed treatment for the multiple injuries sustained, but Brock could only help the physical ones. After a week, Tyler was released and allowed back to his room, which hadn't had anyone in it , other than Ohm , since his disappearance. After that, he barely came out of his room. The guys saw him once in a while, coming out of the bathroom or grabbing something from the fridge, but other than that, he was a ghost to them.
He didn't come to meetings or training, didn't go on heists or help celebrate when they were a success. Nobody knew what he was doing in his room, nobody except Ohm.
After Tyler had gained consciousness in the infirmary, Ohm was the first one by his side. In fact, Ohm hadn't moved from the side of his bed for days. Tyler was terrified at first, that Ohm could tell. His heart rate would speed up and his eyes would go wide with intangible fear, but Ohm would gently remind him he was home, with his friends. The danger was gone and no one would hurt him anymore.
Tyler would nod and lie back down, breathing slowing as Ohm spoke careful reassurances to him. It got to a point where Tyler allowed Ohm to touch him. Whether it be just a brush or a fingertip or a full on hug, Tyler would let it happen. And that was the progress Ohm desperately needed.
From those little infirmary touches came Ohm sleeping in a chair in Tyler's room, Tyler fast asleep in his bed. Sometimes Ohm would stay up and make sure Tyler was sleeping okay, or just to confirm Tyler was there. In his own way, Ohm was mentally damaged from Tyler's kidnapping, it ruined him.
And then, one night, Tyler motioned for Ohm to lie next to him, and Ohm, of course, complied. He could never say no to his best friend. So, as he crawled into the surprisingly comfortable bed and felt Tyler's arms across his chest, he couldn't help but smile, his own hand grabbing on to the one against his shirt, fingers running along knuckles, a way to reassure both of them that they were real, Tyler was there.
Now, Ohm was skipping out on training to talk to the mute man. This was the fifth session he had missed in favor of helping Tyler with his return. He missed his voice so much, it kept him up at night just thinking about his laughter.
Tyler had his back to Ohm, staring out the window at the night sky, playing with his hands in his lap as he stayed seated on his bed, going through memories and traumas from just three weeks ago. His eyes held a tired fear, one that Ohm had come to recognize, and his features were riddled with untold stories from his time away.
Ohm found himself sitting in the chair near the bed, a good couple of feet away from his best friend, staring at the back of Tyler's wild brown hair and contemplating what to say to start the one sided conversation he was about to have.
He settled on something simple, yet so deep.
"I miss your voice."
He saw Tyler's back straighten at this, and soon after, Ohm found himself losing his filter, everything pouring out in one long set of words that he put his heart into. He couldn't stop thinking about this, about Tyler, and he'd be damned if he didn't tell his best friend everything.
"I miss your voice. Your sarcastic comments that made me snicker, your wheezing laugh that came so unexpected and at the complete wrong times, like when we were on that one Heist and Nogla did something stupid and you gave away our hiding spots because you started wheezing so hard,"
Ohm smiled as he said that, it was a fond memory he went over often, one of his favorites.
"I miss how you'd call me a dumbass for taking the last cookie, but it was halfhearted and I always ended up sharing it with you anyway. I miss how you helped me prepare for interrogations, how you let me fake interrogate you and it always ended up with me asking if you were as gay as you sounded. I miss the stupid jokes that made everybody laugh, but made me laugh the hardest because my best friend was such an idiot,"
Ohm ran a hand through his hair, tears pricking his eyes as he continued his little avalanche of emotions.
"I miss you constantly trying to convince Evan to let you get a dog, a Dalmatian you'd say, and you'd name him Kino and he'd be a living meme who you could bring on Heists, but he'd wait in the car because no way you'd ever send your little meme into any danger,"
Tyler's body turned slightly at this. He never realized how much Ohm really listened to him, how much he truly paid attention, and it was endearing, it made his heart clench and beat loudly in his chest. His best friend knew so much.
"I miss how you'd talk about the kids you were gonna have someday, but you didn't think you'd ever meet the right girl, so you'd jokingly ask me if I'd have your babies, and every time I would say yes, but part of me wasn't joking because, I know it's not possible, but I'd do anything to have little WildOhm hybrids running through the safe house,"
Ohm felt a tear slide down his cheek at this. He didn't mean for all of this to come out, but it was. He was so overwhelmed and in need of his best friend's soothing voice, he needed Tyler's reassurance.
"I miss how you'd hold me when I cried from the loss of an innocent, how you'd passive aggressively call me a little bitch, but I could always feel the tears that fell onto my head, the ones that came from your eyes, because you were just as upset as I was. And I miss how you'd take my hand and put it over your heart during my little....episodes, and how you'd whisper to me and tell me you were real, it was real, this was all real and I was okay and not alone anymore,"
Tyler inhaled slowly, deeply, his mouth so dry and unaccustomed to what was flying out of Ohm's own. It was terrifying and exciting all at once, and he found himself turning to face Ohm, noticing his best friend was staring at his lap, picking at the fabric of his gray sweater, the one Tyler had gotten him for his birthday a couple years ago, the one with the bunny ears he had custom made and attached.
"I just...I miss your voice Tyler, I miss you. I miss my best friend and at this point, I don't know if I'm ever gonna get him back and it hurts so much. I'm not used to being the strong one, I'm not used to seeing you like this, and it hurts so bad. I just want, no, I need, some part of you to hold onto. I need you, I need my best friend so fucking bad and it hurts, it makes me feel so useless and helpless and-"
"Ryan...."
The voice was achingly familiar, mixed with fear and something Ohm couldn't place, almost like need, like an emotional need, and he could feel goosebumps raise on his flesh. And when he looked up, Tyler was standing above him with both his arms out, tears streaming down his own face, melted together by a small smile that had Ohm shaking in his seat. And as Tyler's arms wrapped around Ohm's shaking, overwhelmed, shocked body, he realized something.
Ohm once again, didn't have a clue what to do.
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