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221bshrlocked · 6 years ago

Text

Guys My Age (5)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 5187

Warnings: Angst. Then needy smut since y’all seemed to like that shit as much as I love writing it.

A/N: Use protection homies. Better safe than surprised. Also, I uploaded it to AO3 with gifs since I am not allowed to use gifs on this website anymore cause tumblr has a stick up their ass. And hopefully it’s as good as the other chapters.

Previous Part

You've accounted for everything when the day started. You've thought of the different ways Steve can find out about his birthday party. You've thought of so many excuses in case he figured out what you guys had planned. You've prepared everything for the surprise, even going as far as making sure Friday wouldn't give your plans away. You've made sure Tony wouldn't slip up by accident and mention something during your missions.

So yeah, you've definitely accounted for everything. Or so you thought. Too bad you didn't realize this until it was too late.

You were now dealing with the consequences of your, arguably good intentioned, actions.

Rewind to about 4 hours ago, you were on your way to the 50th floor with Steve, telling him that something was some debriefing with other agents that were not up to date with some protocols. When he kept on complaining about how these new agents should've done their jobs instead of being hand-fed the rules, you told him to deal with it and it was probably the last time.

As soon as he opened the door, screams erupted from everyone waiting for him, the look on his face priceless because it was totally worth it to yell at each person that almost told him by accident.

Quickly finding your spot next to Bucky, you kissed his cheek before wrapping your arm around him, his own keeping you as close to him as possible. Soon after, the party began, with Tony giving a stupid speech about the ups and downs of life, and teasing Steve about his suits while Steve retaliated and reminded him of the one time he had to help him out when his suit was stuck in the elevator of Buckingham Palace.

You've stayed next to Bucky the entire night, occasionally excusing yourself to get the two of you drinks or mingle with other people you knew. And whenever you took a little longer than usual, Bucky would shoot you a text asking where you were, replying to not take too long and return to him after you're done.

Smiling at the text, you sent him a quick kissy face emoji before returning to the bar and ordering drinks for you and Natasha. Grabbing the drinks, you turned around and crashed into someone immediately, the drinks spilling all over you and making you step back.

"Shit I'm so sorry I didn't see you there at all. Did anything c-" You froze as soon as you saw who it was, face contorting before you turned around and ordered the same drinks again, apologizing to the bartender and helping him clean up the mess.

"Now now, is that anyway to look at your favorite boyfriend?" You couldn't have snorted any louder at his comment, thanking the bartender before walking around this excuse of a man. Not bothering to reply, you continued walking, trying to look for Natasha.

"Come on Y/N, you can't expect me to believe you've forgotten about me." You remained silent, setting down the drinks at a table before texting her real quick. When he grabbed your arm to get your attention, you stopped moving and stared at him, your death stare making him smile at you.

"Now that I have your attention-"

"If you want to keep your arm, I suggest you let go of mine."

"Baby I specifically remember you liking it when I get a little rough." He chuckled, hands still on your arm and beginning to grip it tighter.

"You have about 10 more seconds before I break it so don't say I didn't warn you."

"Do you really think I'm going to believe those little charades with that dick face. I know you miss me sweetheart. I know what you like and what you don't like. I can play your body like a fucking violin and make you cum with one look-" You cut him off once again.

"Please did you really think I ever came when we had sex? That was me trying not to make you feel bad about your tiny dick, which I assume your new girl toy figured was useless since you couldn't even fucking use it."

That seemed to do the trick, but as soon as he let go of your arm, his fingers wrapped around your neck, slamming you hard against the wall before staring at you.

"Listen here you cock slut, I can make a scene or we can go back to my place quietly. If you don’t, I'll send your brain-washed boyfriend the sweet little pics you sent me when we were together…maybe you'll come back to me then when he breaks up with you." You were about to kick him when someone grabbed him by his hair and pulled him away.

"Listen here sweetheart," Natasha imitated him, whispering something in his ear that you couldn't hear but when he looked like he'd seen a ghost, you knew it wasn't something friendly. He walked away without turning back, leaving you and Natasha exchanging a silent conversation before returning to your group.

The problem was, even when you tried to brush the little exchange aside, smiling and laughing like you always do, Bucky sensed something was off. He didn't want to press you on it, knowing you'll probably just tell him later. As the party went into full swing, Bucky asked you to dance with him, his arms wrapped around your form the entire time and keeping you flush to him. He whispered many things in your ears, from the funniest jokes he heard to the filthiest lines that made you squirm in his arms.

But even though you laughed and sighed against him, he knew whatever happened must've been a little worse than he thought.

"Wanna get some air for a bit?" He asked, taking your hands when you nodded quietly before looking everywhere else but him. When he finally had you for himself, he stepped a little closer, arms cornering you against the railing when you kept on staring out to the city and not at him.

"Baby what's wrong?" Bucky truly didn't want to ask but he had a feeling that you might not tell him as he thought.

"N-nothing." Shit, you loved his sense of intuition so much but right at this moment, it was a curse.

"It's not nothing darling I know you. Somethin' happened. Please, let me help you. What happened?" Bucky cooed against your shoulder, kissing your neck before resting his hands on your stomach. Knowing you weren't going to talk like this, he did the only thing he knew would get you to open up. At times like this, getting a little handsy with you was what did it.

Reaching with his metal fingers, he was about to wrap them lightly against your neck when you flinched and let out a sob.

Something changed in the atmosphere at this moment.

Bucky stepped away in an instant, fear washing over him as he took in what just happened. You turned around as soon as you didn't feel his heat any longer, looking up at him and breath hitching when you saw the way he was gazing at you.

"James wait-" Before you could say anything, Bucky was sprinting back into the room, completely ignoring you. By the time you came back to yourself, you were running around trying to find him when you were grabbed and thrown into a room.

"Didn't I say you should come with me quietly?" Your asshole of an ex was about to kick you when you got out the knife in your holster and stabbed his shoulder, his agonizing scream making you just a little happier.

"Son of a bitch. Look what you made me do! Now he thinks I'm afraid of him." He was about to ask you what you meant when you sank the knife deeper in his muscles, his pleas bringing Steve and Sam rushing into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam asked before looking down and seeing the man crying on the floor. You told them what happened earlier quickly, telling them you needed to find Bucky as soon as possible.

"Y/N just calm down-"

"I'm not going to fucking calm down Rogers. He thinks I'm afraid of him. Do you know how fucking hard it was to get him to finally trust himself. A long ass time. And now this asshat ruined everything." You started heaving, afraid it was all over with Bucky.

"Buck WAIT-" Those two words were the only warning you got right before you heard the familiar sound of metal plates shifting followed by an even louder scream. You turned around and saw Bucky holding your ex against the wall by his neck, his other hand grabbing the knife and violently taking it out before holding his other hand against the wound.

"Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now." The man looked like he'd seen the devil in front of him, begging Bucky to not kill him and apologizing to you. You knew Bucky would never kill him but the look in his eyes made you doubt yourself a bit.

"James sweetheart listen to me. He's not worth it. Please. Baby he's nothing. Let's just leave. Come with me Bucky please…please." He still wasn't listening to you, wanting nothing more than to hurt the man in front of him.

"Buck listen to her." Steve stepped through and placed his hand on his shoulder, the action calming him down and making him retract his hold on the man before turning around and looking at you.

For the second time that night, Bucky wished he didn't see you looking at him like this. As if he was an unhinged animal.

And for the second time that night, you had to watch him walk away without so much as a word to you. Turning to Steve, you told him you were going to deal with him before running after Bucky. By the time you caught up to him, he was already in the elevator, not bothering to hold it open for you and hissing when you made it just in time.

"What the hell was that?" You didn't mean to sound angry but you were afraid it would have gone further. When Bucky said nothing, you pushed his shoulder, heart rate increasing when he didn't bother trying to tell you to stop. His back hit the wall, hands grasping the railing so hard it bent under him. When he finally did look at you, your heart broke, the defeated expression he held making you wish you let him have his way with your ex.

"You…why didn't you tell me? I, fuck this was a bad idea…I knew this would happen." He whispered to himself, looking to the increasing numbers on the elevator and wishing it would just let him out already. "You knew what would happen? How many times do I have to tell you, I am not afraid of you. I never was and I never will be." You sounded hurt, trying to see if there was any way you could get this message across.

"Oh yeah, well why did you pull away?" Bucky knew the answer but he didn't want to believe it. Some part of him thought he was the guilty one.

"BECAUSE THAT ASSHOLE ALMOST KILLED ME MINUTES BEFORE! IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT! I WAS JUST REACTING TO THE MOTION JAMES NOT TO YOU. I mean for fuck’s sake, I told you I know you’d never hurt me." Your anger seeped through, arms pushing him again before continuing your attack on his shoulders. Bucky didn't bother to try and stop you, almost crying along with you.

"You- you're lying." He sounded broken and you wished you could take back the last hour.

"I would never lie to you James and you fucking know this. And if we're talking about shit that I knew would happen, what was that? Every single time we see him, you manage to keep it together. What the fuck was that huh? Do you have any idea what he's going to say now? They…they might take you from me. I- shit, James I don't know what I'd do if he pressed charges." Panic was evident in your voice, making Bucky scrunch his face and yell back.

"I DID THAT BECAUSE HE SHOULDN’T HAVE LAID A FINGER ON YOU. I DID THAT BECAUSE I PROMISED YOU I WOULD NEVER LET ANYONE HURT YOU AND I COULDN'T KEEP THAT FUCKING PROMISE." The elevator dinged, Bucky watching you walk out first before letting out a laugh.

"Oh yeah because you have to be James Barnes, the man who saves the damsel in distress whenever he could. Unfuckingbelievable." You headed towards the stairs, throwing your bag on the couch and beginning your ascent to your room when you felt a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and pushing your face against the wall.

"Do you wanna say that again to my face sweetheart? Cause the last time I checked, you had no fucking problem with me doing just that every time he pissed you off. Or are you forgetting now?" Bucky whispered in your ear, stopping your oncoming remark with a bite to your neck. You hated the effect he had on you but you couldn't hold back the groan bubbling its way through your lips. “Isn’t that right doll? You fucking love it when I show him who you belong to don’t you? In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that turned you on.” When you whimpered in his arms, he laughed, his hands roaming your body before grabbing you roughly just like you wanted.

“There she is. My pretty doll loves it when I mark her...you live for it Y/N and don’t fucking deny it cause I know. I know how you like it...how you love it when I make you mine every fuckin’ night. You love it when I fuck this tight cunt, makes you wet every time I fuck you with these.” He made sure you knew what he was referring to, grasping you through your clothes with his metal fingers and rubbing your pussy as hard as he could until you melted in his arms.

“B-bucky…” You sighed when he kissed your neck, moaning when you didn’t feel him against you anymore. You turned around in time to see him taking his clothes off and you tried to face him but he combed his hands through your hair before pulling harshly on it and pushing you down against the table near the stairs. You swore from how angry he was and he mocked you again right before spanking your ass.

“Baby I told you...can’t fucking lie to me. Your body speaks for you dollface,” He practically ripped the jacket off of you, not bothering to unzip your pants before pulling them as aggressively as he could down your legs. “Fuck me…” You tried to look back at him but he didn’t give you a chance, his hands going through your panties before pulling on them, the sound of fabric snapping once again turning you on more than it should.

“That’s right baby, you’re fucking mine. Mine. I own this pussy. I own this fucking body...your soul is mine Y/N.” You knew he was saying those things out loud more for himself than to you. His insecurities were shedding off of him like hair from a dog and you wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him he has nothing to worry about. But he needed this. You both needed this. He needed to know he was in charge and he needed to understand you weren’t going anywhere.

So when you heard him unzipping his pants, you braced yourself for the onslaught that was to come. His cock went in with ease and you laughed because he wasn’t wrong. You loved seeing him asserting his dominance, some weird part of you loving it when he made it clear you were his and he was yours. Like the two of you were a pair of fucking animals that bonded for life. “Fuck babygirl, always so tight for me...so hot and wet squeezin the shit outta my cock doll fuck-” He rested his head against your back, sighing and telling you he could die in between your legs.

You held him onto him, hands scratching the arms around your waist and telling him you loved him. “Harder Buck...fuck me, god yes yes wanna feel your cock for days baby harder, fuck me harder please...let me feel you James shit shit.” He bit your shoulder again and you screamed from the pleasure you felt through the pain, biting your lips and telling him you loved it when he was rough.

“Take what you want James...take everything you want, I fucking love it. Love you so much baby fuck you’re so hard yes. Yes!” You continued to encourage him, knowing he needed to hear you now more than ever. You held back the tears waiting to roll down your cheeks, a part of you feeling he might misunderstand and stop, which was the last thing you’d want. His hands moved every second all over your body, wanting to touch you everywhere all at once and keep you as close to him as possible. He knew he should stop and just talk through this but he could do that later. Right now, all he wished was to bury himself so deep inside you until he couldn’t think of anything else other than your pussy clenching hard around him.

You managed to turn your face, wanting to look at his wrecked face as he fucked inside of you over and over again. He wrapped an arm around your chest, pinching and cupping your nipples until you were screaming his name alone. He switched to Romanian and you managed to understand a few words, ones he happened to whisper on your skin every night he fucked you. You told him you loved it when he dirty talked in other languages even though you understood nothing. But there was something special about the Romanian that made your skin flush.

But no matter how much you told him, he didn’t go near your neck. You grabbed for his metal hand and tried to place it around your neck but he refused and pushed your face down further, silently telling you to not ask him again.

“Love you so much doll face, so fucking much. Shit baby you’re always so good for me, your cunt was made for me darlin’, made for my cock. Wanna worship you every minute of every fucking day sweetheart Jesus ffffuck-” He grabbed your forehead and pulled it back, licking and biting the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and leaving wet kisses on every inch of your exposed skin.

“That’s it Y/N, so good for me dollface. Gonna make you cum so hard you only think of me and no one else. No man else. God you’re so good to me tonight...I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry baby I love you.” You were suddenly aware of how scared he was, and cried as soon as you heard his apologies.

“I love you James, love you so much. I- you’re everything to me. Shit ‘m close baby, don’t stop Buck please. Need your cum baby...cum for me, cum inside me James please. Fuck please yes yes,” you went almost hysterical with every second you felt his cock dragging against your wet pussy, legs giving out on you and holding onto his arm so you didn’t fall. “Who do you belong to pretty baby? Who fucking owns this pussy? Hmm, shit baby I’m gonna cum fuck fuck r-right there fffffuck-” He screamed his release against your back, biting down on the flesh until he felt your walls fluttering around his hard cock. When you cried out with him, he immediately lowered his hand, rubbing your clit so hard you felt the blood rushing to every vein in your body.

You tried to hold his hand to make him stop but he didn’t care, slapping your pussy as he came in hot spurts inside you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm and telling you he’s not even close to finishing with you yet.

You fell on the table in front of you, nails digging into his arms until you felt his cock slip out and you squirting all over his pants. He continued to rub your wet pussy, chuckling against your shoulder when you actually started crying from how sensitive you were.

“Such a pretty sight, all for me. So fucking wet for me baby girl shit. So pretty.” He finally stopped when he felt you slipping down against him, unable to keep yourself standing any longer. The two of you were heaving, and Bucky wrapped his arms around you, carrying you up the stairs to your room before laying you on the bed as slowly as possible. He saw your legs still shaking from the intense orgasms he, quite literally, forced out of you. He should’ve felt bad for how wrecked you looked but he was proud that he was the only one that could make you feel this way.

Pulling down his pants, he threw his clothes away and stepped between your legs, stripping you of your clothes and apologizing when his hands touched your thighs. You’ve never come this hard in your life and were hyper-aware of every small touch on your heated skin. Laying next to you, he pulled the covers over the two of you and sighed when you scooted as close to him as possible. He kissed your forehead and apologized one more time before drifting off to sleep.

Hours later, you woke up to something soft and wet around your nipples, eyes opening slowly and looking down only to see Bucky licking and cupping your breasts, a devilish smile gracing his handsome features before he bit down hard and continued to tease you.

“Ahh god yes sir…” You sighed, voice hoarse both screaming and sleeping.

“Naughty little girl, waking me up with this cute little ass of yours rubbing my dick...you having a sex dream about me baby?” Bucky asked, once again rubbing his beard against your nipples and making you arch your back against him. You combed your fingers through his hair, pulling on it until he growled against your skin. You couldn’t take it any longer, begging him to stop teasing and finish off what he started.

“But you’ve been a bad girl doll face...god damn you’re soft,” he drew circles around them, watching each one pebble and harden between his fingers. “Your body’s so ready for me isn’t it darlin?” Bucky looked up and saw you staring right at him, lips lower lip between your teeth and eyes begging him to do something more.

“Always,” you whispered, hoping he’d know what you’ve been trying to tell him all night long. He laughed and shook his head, descending down your body and mapping your exposed skin with as many kisses as possible. As soon as he tapped on your thighs, you opened them for him, goosebumps slowly making an appearance on your skin because of the way he was looking at your pussy.

“Fuck Y/N...your cunt looks so pretty, just wanna devour you baby,” he didn’t waste any more time, raising one leg high above his head before licking a long stripe across your pussy. Your hips bucked involuntarily and he slapped your inner thigh, telling you to behave so he didn’t have to punish you.

“Yes sir..sorry sir,” you sighed, telling him to keep rubbing his beard against your thigh. “So fucking responsive from the smallest touches. Shit baby you’re my world, my fucking universe,” he took your clit between his lips, sucking so hard on the bundle of nerves until you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your orgasm hit you without a warning and you came on his face, gushing and trying to push him away from you. Bucky didn’t give you a chance to pull away from him, metal hand ascending your body until it grabbed hold on one of your breasts and squeezing it tightly while holding your thighs near his face.

He didn’t stop for a second, wanting to make you cum one last time before giving you some time to rest. When your back arched until you sat up and ceased breathing, Bucky slowed down but not before giving you a quick kiss. You fell back down, grabbing your stomach and your neck to try and calm your heart rate. Bucky kissed his way up your body until he faced you. His eyes betrayed his thoughts, focusing on your throat and making you feel like shit all over again.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, hands reaching behind his neck and lowering him down until his lips met yours. “You know I’d never be scared of you right?” You asked, hoping he’d give you the answer you were hoping for.

When he said nothing, you shut your eyes and covered them, not wanting to ruin the moment but knowing there was no holding back the tears. “Buck I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I swear on my life it was because of that dickhead. Not you. Never you!” You hid behind your elbows, letting go of him and attempting to get out of bed.

He kept you between his arms and refused to let you go, pulling your arms down and holding you against him until you stopped crying.

“Okay.” He whispered into your ears and although it was such a small word, it meant the world to you.

“Please stop crying Y/N I can’t stand seeing you crying. Especially when it’s because of me. Please darling.” He took hold of your cheeks and placed your head against his chest. “Hear that sweetheart. I ain’t lying. I trust that you’re telling me the truth. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“No it’s not your fault. You don’t apologize Bucky. You never have to apologize to anyone.” You got a little angry when he tried to turn the tables and he laughed at how serious you became all of a sudden.

“I trust your love baby. I trust your love.” He pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, finally gaining some courage to wrap his metal fingers around your throat and massage the red bruises forming all around. He loved seeing the discoloration that formed on your skin but only when the two of you fucked the breath out of each other. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you and marking you. Leaning down, he left a small kiss on every inch of your neck, apologizing that he wasn’t there to stop him from grabbing you and wishing he was the one hurt instead.

You sighed with every pass of his soft lips over your flushed skin, pulling on his hair and wrapping your arms around him to bring him closer to you. When he took hold of your waist and turned you around so your back was against his chest, you threw your head back, hands slowly pumping his cock before raising your leg and resting it on his thigh.

He thrust in with ease, his hips bucking in and out of you before he wrapped his palm around your neck again. You looked into each other’s eyes, silently conveying your feelings before your mouths came together for a dizzying kiss.

You could feel his hold tighten around you and you loved it, holding onto the back of his neck to keep his as close to you as possible. No matter how many times he pleasured you, it always felt like the first time for the two of you.

Bucky moaned against you, wanting to say so many things but refusing to pull away from your lips. He told you on several occasions if he could spend the rest of his life kissing you, he would die a happy man. He held you against him, finding peace in feeling your skin sliding against him as he pleasured you. When he felt your nails digging into his back, he snapped his hips harshly, causing you to pull away from him and scream his name against his neck.

“Fuck James...that’s it baby, no one fucks me like you James, ahhhh ff-uck, this pussy is all yours fuck fuck all yours.” As soon as he lowered his hand and flicked your clit, your legs started shaking against him, cunt squeezing him so hard he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sitting up, he turned you until you were on your stomach, raising your hips and holding onto your waist before setting an ruthless pace. You could feel every thing that touched you, biting your pillow as you heard the sounds of his grunts and his skin slapping yours over and over again. This was the first time he said nothing. Instead, he just prayed your name and moaned, looking down and biting his lips as he saw you completely at his mercy.

“Love you...fuck fuck I love you so much doll, so much. My heart is yours baby, my fucking soul has your name written on it. Shit gaaahd fuck ‘m gonna cum darlin your cunt is so hot for me yes….sshit!” He fell on top of you, growling when you milked his cock of every last drop of his cum. You shuddered when you felt him spazzing inside you, loving the way his cock was never soft even after he took his pleasure numerous times during the night.

He didn’t bother to pull out, falling to the side and pulling you towards him. He kissed your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, telling you to rest because he was definitely going to wake you up again.

A distant ringing made you groan before attempting to stand up and look for the source of noise to stop it. You couldn’t move however, tapping on Bucky’s arm so he could let you go and laughing when he only tightened his arms around you.

“Noo.” He whined, making you laugh at how childish he was sometimes. When you told him you were just grabbing your phone, he managed to let go for a few seconds but kept his arms around some part of you. You unlocked it and saw a million messages from everyone on the team.

“Steve is asking if we’re okay.” You said it more like a question than a comment, wanting to make sure the two of you made up before you got out of your room. When he sleepily told you to tell Steve to ‘kindly fuck off with his righteous shield,’ you laughed and texted him that everything was fine.

#bucky smut #guys my age #guys my age 5 #hey violet #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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honeyfreckled · 5 years ago

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we have talked a few times and im sorry for this but you are the most accepting and easiest person to talk to honestly i dont have many people in my life i can tell anything real to. but the thing is ive been thinging about relapsing a lot more since i broke up with my boyfriend and i work with him so it makes work depressing and impossible to get through a day without crying sorry this is anon but i am scared ily dont hate me i am not trying to stress you out

ok wow first lemme just say: I DO NOT HATE U. EVER.

and don’t be srry i don’t have a lotta ppl irl i can tell my shit to so i get it. pls know u can always ALWAYS ALWAYS come to me, and u dont gotta be scared to come off anon. i get it and it’s ok if u prefer it that way- but pls know i dont keep it on alot bc i get hate and then i turn it off bc i gotta look out for myself and dont post all the hate bc i dont wanna bring yall down or give them the satisfaction of knowing i have given it a read and response. so u can message me or make a sideblog or idk im just saying this so if it’s off later u dont blame yrself or feel scared to come off anon. ok sorelapse is a real thing and it’s fucked and hard and addiction is fucked up and a real life struggle and we dont treat addicts w the real tenderness, respect, kindness, and acceptance they deserve. but u DO deserve it. and there are hotlines, apps, churches, groups, chatrooms/boards, and sites that are more versed in what are the appropriate things to say to u- i say this bc while i’ve been thru it w loved ones i have not myself struggled w addiction w substances. my addictions were to self harm and victimhood so those are the things i searched for help on. but if it’s alright i’d like to give u some tips or things i used and have heard work for addicts of substances

places like i said like churches, groups, chatrooms, sites, apps, hotlines the apps and hotlines are good if u cant travel or want to talk to ppl who wont share their story bc maybe u cant hear it like its not the kinda help ur looking for. hotlines are sometimes tricky bc some of those folks are not educated they are volunteers so judgment leaks thru and in that case u ask to be redirected and report that volunteer so hopefully they dont repeat that kinda mess to other vulnerable folks looking for help

make a list of things, anything. list of foods u like to order, list of things that make u clench yr teeth, what were yr fave gifts you’ve ever got, style icons of urs, hobbies u tried that annoyed u, movies u can always watch, places on yr skin u hate being touched, any list of anything it doesnt have to be the usual thing of “what to live for” bc when yr depressed those kinds of things arent easy to think of. but if u get a list going of like “best things ive ever touched” “sounds that make me laugh” “trends that were stupid af” “popular things that i didnt like n couldnt figure out why they were popular” “weirdest ppl ive met” well those things might get u on a roll of good memories or laughing or seeing that theres more to yr life than what has been occupying yr thoughts

dancing. dance in yr room in the dark. clear some space. put on some headphones. lock yr door. do it in the shower. just dance. i had to start w closing my eyes and picking songs that i was taken by emotionally. songs that made me jump and slamdance tbh and then it’s just gotten more and more something im not as ashamed w. i spent a date night w james just dancing and then we ya know ya know bc the dancing got so wild. now i make playlists of songs that set moods for diff kinds of dancing

watch shows w ppl who arent doing better than u. they dont live in fancy places, they dont do much w their lives, they dont dress better than u, they struggle, they arent eating good food u dont have access to. iasip. freaks and geeks. letterkenny. undeclared. jake and amir. tpb. the state. youtube. tiktok/vine comps. lots of these kinds of vibes on youtube

podcasts. improv comedy podcasts tbh saved my life. comedy bang! bang! has best of’s those are good ones to start w. improv4humans bc matt besser has great guests of some of the best improvisers out there and he has musical guests and they’ll play a song and the improvisers will use it as inspo for a scene

make things. moodboards. pinterest. playlists. fill a shopping cart and tell yrself “i’ll get it when i win the lotto and move away from anyone who knows me so i can be the me i wanna be w/out judgement” make tea. make a meal if u can. make yr bed. clean one thing. clean the sink. hang some clothes or go thru yr drawers and clean them out. throwing things out feels hard at first but then it’s nice bc u feel less bogged down

find something to throw yr obsession at for a bit. something that wont hurt u as bad, being obsessed in general isnt good. everything in moderation irl. too much of something is bad just as much as too less of it can be bad. but yr looking for something lower risk here and if u gotta be obsessed w a celeb or a song or a food that’s ok. yr focusing the energy on something that isnt a substance so be proud of it

give yrself a break. give yrself some credit. everyday isnt gonna be on the “best of your name here’s days” but sometimes u just live to live bc that’s what u do. u wait it out and get thru it and wait for the sun to come back out. and if u cant get outta bed. or if you hate yr job and wanna scream- that’s normal it’s more normal than always being happy ppl just dont like talking abt bc society kinda trains us to hide our fucked upness idk why but thats how it is. they dont wanna tell us to do preventative care until we’re in the pits

all in all- it comes down to (at least for me) not planning w an endgoal in mind. it’s not over til it’s over and rlly we dont know. it’s all fluctuating and not meant to be a finish line we cross and then suddenly we’re done and we dont suffer anymore and the feeling of shit is gone or the risk of relapse is gone and the depression is cleared away never to be seen again. it’s not realistic. bc it isnt real. on the real- risk is always there and the downs and ups mix and run together and depression is not curable (this isnt something to be miserable over tho) depression isnt curable, yeah ok, but it is manageable. it can be quieted down from time to time and if u keep up w yr healthy routines and coping mechanisms- depression will still find its way to u bc the real world is not something u can manage. death in the family, loss of money or job, car breaking down, sickness outta nowhere, depression grows wild when these very real life stressors come into our lives. but all that too eventually gets easier and easier at least from a “ok i have some distance now” standpoint. and then as those days get more and more btwn it u can then be like “oh wow, ive made it thru X amount of days! ive put up w it this long! whats one more day, whats one more week, hell might as well see how much prouder i can feel once ive got a year under my belt!” plus u will be more capable of handling the bullshit if u know u can still find some safe places in yr coping skills or friends or resources.

ok so this is prob a mess but bottomline know this:

I love you and i will be here the best i can should u ever wanna come spill or if u need me to just send u pics of my dog or boring pics of knickknacks or selfies or memes or links or anything just tell me what u need and i will try my best to show u my love. i hope u can see that u reaching out is just already a HUGE major step in the right direction, give yrself credit! thats amazing! yr already doing it pumpkin look at u! it’s hard ik. but i also know if u are capable of saying u have this problem going on, u are capable of getting thru this. u are a light in the world. u offer goodness and u offer yrself and that’s enough. even if yr fucked up right now- u are contributing to the world by simply being u. there is literally NO ONE ELSE WHO IS YOU. so u are unique by definition. i hope u get something from this post and if not i hope it strikes an idea or thing u can do that will help. i hope u know im here and i hope u see this.

i am sending u all my light and love and good vibes and i can’t wait to see or hear from u again. u are never bothering me, a burden, or stressing me out. tbh it stresses me more that u might be struggling and not telling me or anyone. i dont ever want u to suffer in silence bc u feel guilt or scared or anything. u deserve to have a place to voice yr shit. im here to listen if u do wanna tell me anymore.

everyone else-if this helped or if u can think of anything that might help anon or anyone else- feel free to reblog and get some good NONJUDGMENTAL advice or tips and tricks going, but please please please remember to not come off as judgey or flood it with your drama. keep ur drama out of this post so anon or anyone else doesn’t get triggered by it.

and dont ignore my rule and do it anyway and then say some shit like “ik u said not to but i think this will help lol sorry” like we need this post to stay on this vibe that i set in motion and not a struggle contest or dick measuring or all sad personal reminiscing. go make yr own post for that this is NOT the space.

#Anonymous #sorry if this is a mess but i got a lot of feelings abt the shitty advice that's out there for addicts and i dont know shit except my ideas #and all i can do is pass it along but pls still remember there are plenty more things that could work so if these dont strike a chord lmk #and i can try to think of more and reach out to my friends who are addicts and see what works for them #i love you i love you and i love you and i like you

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stillthewordgirl · 6 years ago

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LOT/CC fic: Ripples in Time (Ch. 3 of 3)

Set in my "Chances Are" continuity. (In which Leonard Snart got stuck in 1958 with Sara, Ray, and Kendra.) Rip's already lectured Sara and Leonard about how their actions in 1958 may have changed many things. Turns out, at least one of those things strikes very close to home. Set between chapters 16 and 17 of "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight."

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It’s late by the time they get back to the hotel, sneaking in like teenagers, but Sara’s still so full of adrenaline that she makes quite good on the promise of that kiss. Later, Leonard somewhat groggily asks for the number of the truck that hit him—though he does it with a pleased smirk on his face—before falling quite soundly asleep, and Sara follows soon afterward, still entwined with him on the far-bigger-than-Waverider-quarters king bed.

She sleeps soundly herself, waking by the time she’d planned to and rising quietly. Leonard only utters a sleepy murmur, but he opens his eyes a little by the time she returns, showered and dressed.

“Going somewhere?” he mutters, reaching for her. Sara evades him easily, but then leans back over to kiss him.

“I told you,” she reminds him. “I’m going to see Dig and Lyla and baby Sara, and then to lunch with Thea.”

Leonard blinks, but then she sees memory rise in his eyes again. “Right.” He pushes himself up on an elbow. Sara hums appreciatively as the sheet falls aside a bit, giving her a very nice view. “You want me to come with you?”

She’d already told him it was fine, but she gives it due thought again anyway. Something about the idea of seeing Len meet her small namesake is very appealing. But…

Leonard nods as he sees her pause. “Go see the kid without having to explain me,” he says quietly, stretching back out—and smirking as he sees Sara’s eyes trail slowly down his torso, following the line of dark (OK, maybe a little graying) hair under the sheet that’s still slung over his hips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mmmm.”

“Sara. Aren’t they waiting for you?”

“They’re not going anywhere.” Her fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and pull away that sheet.

“Neither am I.”

When Sara finally does leave, Leonard’s not ashamed to admit he goes back to sleep, enjoying the opportunity in a way he rarely can. When he finally rises, he gets ready in a more leisurely fashion, then tries to figure out what to do next.

It’s obvious, probably. It doesn’t take long before he decides to see if he can saunter into the Arrowcave like he does into STAR Labs. Hopefully without getting an arrow through the brain.

Well. He’s never been one to make the wisest decisions. And the challenge is intriguing.

Presumably, Queen & Co. won’t want to piss off Sara by killing him. So there’s that.

Memory gets him to the site. Skill gets him in. The security system is good, very good, but it’s not Leonard Snart good. He doesn’t even trip it. He just…convinces it.

So, he’s very, very smug when he saunters into the Arrowcave proper, smirk on his face, hands behind his back, trying not to look like a threat but completely willing to look like an asshole.

It lasts as long as it takes him to get far enough for Felicity Smoak (who’s sitting at her desk and studying her computer) to glance up and see him.

“Oh,” she says in a bored tone, “it’s you.” Then, to his surprise, she giggles. “The man of the hour.”

Well, this isn’t what he expected. Or wanted. Leonard frowns at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Come again?”

Felicity waves a hand at another desk. “Read ‘er and weep, lover boy.”

Leonard eyes her a moment, then sidesteps over to that desk. There’s a newspaper there, one of the more tabloid-ish local ones, and he glances down at it.

His jaw drops. Felicity snickers again.

There’s a photo there. It’s under the fold, as the top is face down, but it’s still clear and in full color. And it’s…him. And Sara. Kissing. There on the rooftop. A nearly full moon in the background, illuminating them in a scene like something from a movie.

The photographer had somehow managed to miss the archer in green who was on the rooftop with them. Leonard stares at it a moment, then skims the caption. Oh. Peachy. They’ve clearly identified him as Central City’s Captain Cold (“hasn’t been seen for six months since his escape from Iron Heights”) and they’re baffled by Sara (“another Star City Canary?…successor?...who?...why?”). To his slight amusement, the paper’s clearly linked them to the police raid on the drug operation, though not the Arrow, and they’re both being taken as well-intentioned, if vigilante-inclined, heroic types.

It’s a good pic, actually. Even if he never saw it coming. Leonard studies it a moment longer, imagining what’s going to happen if Lisa sees it before he can explain, then shakes his head.

“Way to destroy my image.” he sighs, tossing the paper aside.

Felicity is peering around her screen, looking like she’s holding back laughter. “You did it to yourself,” she points out.

“That’s who I was talking to.” Then something else occurs to him, something involving Felicity and how he first “met” her and who her friends are—and how she’s watching him with such gless. Leonard stops in his tracks. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t send that to…”

Too late. He closes his eyes in resignation as a golden-red blur darts into the room, resolving into a red-suited man who’s not even bothering to wear a mask, but who is wearing an immense grin.

“…Barry Allen,” Leonard finishes. “Gee. Thanks, Smoak.”

Felicity stands, eyes huge. “Wait. You know…”

“Yes, I know his name,” Leonard drawls in exasperation before folding his arms and leveling a stare at the other man. “Barry.”

“Snart!” the younger man says happily. He looks like he’s going to step forward and try for a hug, but Leonard steps deliberately backward when he sees it coming, and Barry stops. “I knew you guys were back for a couple days, but Dr. Stein and Jax and Mick wouldn’t say where you were. You and Sara Lance? Really?”

Leonard keeps his gaze chilly. “That tone of surprise is rather insulting, Allen.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Barry looks a little rattled, which is satisfying, but that big grin is still there. Once, Leonard would have assumed it was mocking him, but he knows better now, with 1958 and Gabriel Drive behind him. Barry Allen is idealistic and brave and, OK, kinda cute. He’s also kind, and Leonard knows it now for the odd strength it is instead of a weakness.

If he really thinks Leonard is happy with Sara Lance, that grin is 100 percent genuine.

“It’s just…” Barry actually scuffs a toe on the ground. It’s kind of adorable. Leonard scowls. “…I never even thought it was likely that you two would meet, let alone…ah…”

“Hook up?” Felicity asks gleefully from her desk, apparently deciding to try to stir the pot a little more for her own entertainment. Leonard ignores her, although Barry flushes a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters, though he keeps that damned grin. “After all that protesting about not being a hero…”

“I’m not…” Leonard gives up. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing! Good for you, Snart. I mean…is it serious? Um.” Barry darts a glance at Felicity while Leonard decides he’d rather sink into the ground and vanish than have Barry Allen fishing for clues about his intentions toward Sara. “Does Oliver know…?”

“Does Oliver know what?” The man himself stalks into the room and Leonard closes his eyes in a “give me strength” gesture. There’s a faint sound from the far wall and an elevator opens, letting Laurel out. It’s a measure, Leonard figures, of how weird this whole situation is that he’s relieved to see the lawyer. He tosses a glance her way as she wheels toward them, annoyed that it probably comes out a little pleading, and is even more annoyed when Barry…well, giggles is probably the best word…on his other side.

But Queen takes one look at the paper and snorts, a sound that Leonard thinks might actually contain a little amusement. “Oh, I did,” the archer says. “Frankly, I think everyone in the city has. And beyond.” He gives Leonard a cool look, but there is indeed a hint of humor in his gaze. “I should have warned you. The would-be paparazzi have taken to camping out in places with good views of likely rooftops. Sorry about that.”

He’s not sorry at all. Leonard regards him steadily, then decides not to take the bait. “Well,” he drawls, looking down at the photo. “It’s a good pic. Maybe they’ll give us a copy of the file in exchange for an autographed copy or something.”

Queen loses the smile, but Laurel chuckles. She starts to say something, but they’re interrupted by the footsteps, and Sara’s voice lifting in greeting.

“Hey,” she calls as she enters the room, “look who I found outside!”

Because this day couldn’t much any weirder or more awkward. Still, Leonard finds his lips lifting in a smile as he watches Mick sauntering in at Sara’s side, eyeing the gathered heroes with a look of wary uncertainty. He obviously brightens with relief, too, as he sees Leonard, though he quickly hides it behind habitual surliness and the expression that says clearly that he’s already decided to give no fucks about this gang of heroes before they can decide not to give any fucks about him.

“Allen,” he barks at Barry. “What the hell?”

Barry looks sheepish. “Well, I wasn’t going to bring you in here without asking,” he retorts, then looks at the nonplussed-looking Queen. “Uh. Hi, Oliver…”

Felicity raises a hand. “Uh. Did you just tell the arsonist Oliver’s name?”

“Already knew it, Ponytail.”

Eyes go to Leonard, who promptly jerks his thumb at Sara, perfectly willing to pass the buck. She rolls her eyes.

“They’re my teammates,” she says with exasperation, folding her arms, “no matter what you think of their prior career paths.” She glances at Mick. “You’re not going to burn down the Arrowcave, right, Mick?”

“Pro’bly not.”

“See?”

Queen finds his voice. “Sara…”

Sara can take care of herself. Leonard moves with some alacrity toward Mick. “You let Allen flash you over here? Really?”

His friend shrugs. “I was bored. And Allen wigged out over that pic…though not as much as Ramon did.” He smirks. “You OK? Blondie’s dad didn’t try to murder you?”

“Not yet, anyway.” Leonard’s trying to decide whether to surreptitiously get Mick out of there or stay and watch the potential chaos, when his thoughts are interrupted by a quiet, amused voice.

“Mr. Rory, I presume?”

He glances over and sees Laurel sitting there watching them, a smile hovering around her mouth. He offers her a wry smile, glancing at Mick, who blinks at Sara’s sister as she sits there and considers him.

“Yeah,” he finally manages. “Hi.”

Laurel inclines her head to him, extending her hand. Mick, looking slightly flummoxed, takes it, but keeps holding it as if he’s not sure what to do with it. Leonard, not sure whether to smirk or wince, clears his throat, but Laurel doesn’t seem to mind, considering Mick thoughtfully.

“I understand that you’ve known Mr. Snart here a long time,” she tells him. “In fact, I gather you’re the next best thing to brothers.”

Mick blinks. Leonard blinks. But neither of them bothers to deny it.

“Uh,” Mick says finally. “Yeah. And yer Sara’s sister.”

Leonard winces again. Laurel just smiles.

“I am,” she acknowledges. “And I have so many embarrassing stories about her. And I’m willing to share them.”

Mick brightens. Belatedly, he gives her hand a shake, letting go, but Leonard sees Laurel tighten her fingers around his, briefly, first, almost a gesture of encouragement. Then she starts asking him about Leonard, about how they met, and Lisa, and Leonard decides that even after everything, Mick won’t purposely try to sabotage Laurel’s opinion of him.

He backs slowly off even as Sara comes up beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers and chuckling evilly as she sees Laurel talking to Mick.

“She’s not Mick’s type,” he says, even though he’ll admit some uncertainty. “Too classy.”

“I think you might be wrong about that,” Sara murmurs without saying exactly what he’s wrong about, but continues without clarifying. “Well. Even if nothing like that does happen, I think they might be something even rarer and more special.”

She smiles at his inquiring look, answering the unspoken question. “Friends. And isn’t that unexpected?”

“Huh.” Leonard considers them. Mick can claim all he wants that he doesn’t have friends, but that’s changed, on the Waverider…and he’s certainly behaving himself for the moment.

“Laurel’s good with people,” Sara says softly. “Better than I am. And…she’s changed. Once, I could see her balking at…”

“Befriending a criminal and arsonist?”

“Well, yeah. Now…” Sara smiles a little more, watching as Mick answers some question or another, getting a smile from Laurel. “We’ve all changed.”

“True, that.”

Somehow, with Barry’s visit and the entry of a few of the other members of Team Arrow, the gathering at the Arrowcave’s developed an oddly congenial atmosphere. Barry’s dispatched to get Iris at Felicity’s insistence, and the Diggle family turns up with wings and pizza at one point. Leonard’s getting used to getting various sorts of once-overs as new players arrive, and he thinks he’s handing them with equanimity.

When the Diggles arrive, Sara reaches for the tiny, curly-haired girl with a murmur of pleasure, and Leonard can’t help but watch as small Sara Diggle reaches for her in return. He exchanges a glance with the namesake’s father—one that on John Diggle’s part says clearly “don’t mess with us—or her--and we won’t mess with you”—and nods in acknowledgement.

The man Felicity calls “Curtis” gives him another sort of once-over, and the men exchange a nod with its own sort of recognition. He’s cute, in the sorta-geeky-yet-sorta-badass way Leonard has a certain predilection for in guys, and it’s kind of nice to see the same sort of appreciation there, even if neither one of them will act on it.

Then Thea Queen arrives and, having apparently been filled in by Sara, checks him out in the sort of semi-lascivious slow scan that actually draws a smirk from Leonard’s face. She winks at him when she’s done, and he winks back, and just like that, they seem to be OK.

Someone, at some point, gets beer and other beverages. Leonard notes in bemusement that a few more familiar faces have arrived…the Steins and Jax, Cisco and Snow. Sara’s in her glory, talking to old friends and new, and after a while, Leonard merely gets a drink, parks his back against a wall and watches her, smiling at her happiness.

“Snart.”

“Queen.” Leonard takes a drink of his beer, not taking his eyes off Sara. Oliver Queen leans next to him, apparently watching the same thing. After a few moments, though, Leonard can feel the gaze on him.

“I do not...dislike you as much as I would have thought.”

As overtures go, it’s certainly not the friendliest, but it’s more sincere for all that, and Leonard turns a little, eyeing the vigilante. “Same,” he drawls. Then he tilts his head. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

(He thinks he deserves a medal for not layering innuendo in those last words. A freakin’ medal.)

Queen doesn’t seem aware of that, but he does acknowledge the words with a return tip of his head—and a frown that makes Leonard frown in return.

After a moment, Queen speaks again. “I want Sara to be happy. She’s been through a lot and…” He hesitates. “A lot of it was my fault. In one way or another.”

Leonard leaves that alone. “You don’t think she’s happy,” he says, watching Sara and the smile on her face, making it both a question and not. He feels Queen turn his head to watch her too, and the silence between them stretches.

“No,” the other man finally says, with a sigh. “I know she is. I can see it. But…” He looks back at Leonard, who’s rather surprised to see sympathy in his eyes. “Snart. For how long?”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “Explain.”

Queen looks back at Sara, who’s still holding a contented-looking Sara Diggle and talking to the woman named Lyla. “What are you going to do?” he asks. “Come back from killing Savage and go back to being a crook?” His gaze flicks back to Leonard. “Shift paths and be a hero?” He holds up a hand as the other man starts to retort. “I know it worked out all right yesterday. But…people know who you were. Do you really think they’ll just let you change?”

Leonard wants to get angry about the words, but…there’s a strong feeling of inside knowledge there, and even pain, in Queen’s voice. And he’s wondered about such things himself; it’s why he’d grabbed the opportunity to reinvent himself with both hands, back in 1958. But can he do it in 2016?

He hesitates, and Queen sees it. The other man nods curtly.

“If it doesn’t work out, whatever your new plan is, what happens?” he says. “Do you just leave? Sara…she’s had too many people leave. But do you really feel like there’s a future for you two?”

Leonard stares at him. He still wants to be angry. Hell, he wants to be enraged. He wants to deny what Queen’s saying. But…

He’s said it himself. Queen’s right. Many people aren’t very willing to let juvenile delinquents…or their adult versions…be anything else once they’ve labeled them so.

Leonard glances away. He hears the other man sigh.

“I don’t…” Queen stops. Then he sighs again. “Just…think about it,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and walks away, back toward Felicity.

Leonard watches him go. Then he looks back at Sara, who’s set little Sara down and is smiling at the small girl as she toddles across the floor. And then he turns away, heading for the stairwell.

He needs some fresh air…and some space to think.

“Where’s Leonard?”

Sara’s been enjoying herself quite a bit during this rather impromptu party in the Arrowcave. She’s kept an eye on Leonard and Mick as she catches up with old friends, pleased at how they seem to be relatively comfortable—definitely more comfortable than she’d feared, or even hoped. Mick had been pleased at the arrival of others he actually knew, and it seems like Stein, of all the people, has decided to be somewhat protective of him.

They’ve become family, on the Waverider. As amazing and unlikely as that might seem.

Leonard had been holding up the wall and watching everyone and everything in his usual fashion, but he’d seemed comfortable enough. But he’s not there now, and Sara realizes she can’t remember when she’d last seen him there. And when she had…

Oliver’s looking guilty. Goddamnit.

Sara starts for him purposefully, glaring, and Felicity, seeing her coming, glances at him too. Her eyes narrow—she’s even better at judging guilty Oliver Queen expressions than Sara is. Laurel, no slouch at that herself, glances over, then starts wheeling toward them.

Oliver looks alarmed. Good.

“We had…a talk,” he says abruptly, folding his arms as the three women converge on him. “But if he left, he left of his own volition.”

“Oliver Queen,” Felicity hisses. “What did you say?”

He starts sputtering, but Sara doesn’t want to hear it. She turns away, scanning the room, then starts for the stairs.

“Sara!”

She turns back, looking at Laurel. (Felicity’s already lighting into Oliver as others start to notice.)

Laurel studies her, empathy in her eyes.

“If he left,” she says, “he’s still planning to come back. That man wouldn’t leave you on Oliver Queen’s say-so.”

Sara gives her a reluctant smile. “That man,” she responds, “won’t do anything on Oliver’s say-so.”

Laurel smiles in return. “Go find him,�� she instructs. “No matter what stupid thing Ollie said, this Leonard Snart loves you. He won’t have gone far.”

She’s right.

Leonard, for all his relative dislike of heights, had gone where Sara is likely to find him—up, to the Star City rooftops. She finds him there, staring out at the city, expression distant and thoughtful.

He turns his head as he hears her approach, and she sees a smile flicker across his face. Well, that’s something, at least.

“You OK?” Sara asks as she joins him, gazing out at her city as well.

Leonard makes a noncommittal noise. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sara snorts. “What did Oliver say to you?”

“Nothing that isn’t true.” But he caves as Sara lifts an eyebrow at him. “Suggested I think about what sort of future we’d have, me and you.”

Sara resolves, again, to kick Ollie’s ass. “That…” She stops. Sighs. “I want a future with you, Leonard. What that future is…we’ll work that out together.”

Leonard gives her another flicker of a smile. “Yes. That’s a given.” He hesitates, then reaches out, taking her hand, a rare sort of gesture for him.

It’s a relief. But Sara frowns, wondering. “Then what’s wrong?”

Leonard looks down and takes a deep breath. But he’s still holding her hand, and he doesn’t drop it. “Sara,” he says slowly. “I don’t know that I’m…that I’m the marrying kind…”

Oh.

Sara takes her own deep breath. Her fingers tighten on his. “Len,” she says, just as slowly. “You and I both know that…that it’s not always just…just a man and a woman, a floofy white dress, and a big party-- and then a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a golden retriever.”

His eyes lift to hers. There’s so much in them, and for a moment it takes her breath away. Then she clears her throat and keeps going, the emotion in his eyes giving her the strength to continue.

“Really, I think, it just comes down to two people who…who look at each other and say… ‘I love you, and I’ll stay with you,” she says. “If you’ll have me.’”

The words come out more intense and direct than maybe she’d originally planned. But Sara knows immediately that she’s OK with that. She’s at peace in a way she never thought she’d be, actually, standing here on a rooftop in Star City, listening to the sounds of the city below, staring into the eyes of a snarky, infuriating, complicated, wonderful crook.

After a still, oddly serene moment, he tugs her just a little closer, expression gaining an edge of…something. Determination? Resolve? Sara puts her other hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat even through the layers he wears, strong and steady even through that armor.

Then he nods, almost to himself, and speaks.

“I love you,” he tells her quietly. “And I’ll stay with you. If you’ll have me.”

It’s a proposal, and they both know it. Or maybe she’d proposed first, and it’s just his half of a mutual proposal, which seems like them, to be honest. The thought makes Sara smile, even as she goes up on her toes to put them more on a level.

“Yes,” she says in return. “Yes. Of course I will.”

A return smile flickers across Leonard’s serious face, something more complicated than just happiness (though that’s part of it), deeper than just relief. He pulls her close and kisses her, then, there on the rooftop, and Sara winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back, pouring herself into it, letting some of the worries and concerns of the future drift away, because they have this.

They have this.

When they finally separate, they’re both grinning like idiots, even Leonard, for whom that particularly foolish smile seems quite incongruous. After a moment, he shakes his head and settles his features into something more Snartlike, sardonic amusement mixed with his habitual confidence, and holds out a hand. Sara takes it again, then tugs gently, starting to lead him back to the others, the friends and family who might be worried about them.

Leonard goes willingly, especially since she heads for the fire escape and not just the edge of the roof. Sara hears him chuckle as they start down, and glances back at him.

“Anyway, we don’t need a golden retriever,” he tells her solemnly. “We have Raymond.”

She doesn’t stop laughing until they get back to the Arrowcave.

#captain canary #ripples in time #chance are #arrowverse

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sufferthesea · 6 years ago

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Hey AKIMI let me just REMIND YOU that Tobirama was Kagami's teacher and it is DISGUSTING that you ship them! And kakanaru! And kakahina! And kakasaku! AND ANY TEACHER/STUDENT SHIP YOU MAY HAVE!! Listen, filth, adults should not go around DATING CHILDREN!! Get this through your thick skull you idiot! You dumbass!! I can't believe I was ever considered friends with you. Publish this, I'll be watching. You can argue with me, you can call me out, but you can't delete this! Publish this. Publish it.

Hi Starry! I am assuming it’s you since you’re the only one I know who’s bitter enough to do this. And on anon? I’m kind of surprised! If you’re so passionate about this, you shouldn’t be on anon. You should come right out and let people know who you are! Come on, don’t be ashamed. Not sure I want to give you the satisfaction of having your username posted on here so you can have some glory. Maybe I’ll just keep you anonymous. *Dirty Little Secret plays in the bg*

I’m glad you’re still stalking my blog! It’s funny you’re assuming my ships since you’re wrong on most of them. I don’t know where you got the idea of who I shipped, but I’m glad that you don’t even bother to read my tags! If you notice, most ships I reblog are tagged with “nms” which means “not my ship”. It’s this super cool invention called an “initialism”. And by power of deduction and critical thinking, that means I don’t ship those particular characters. I use that tag for 99% of the ships I reblog. I reblog the post because I like the art style and want to support the artist, especially with the new “best stuff first” policy. Yikes! Tumblr had a boo-boo with that update.

I’m just getting to the Itachi Pursuit Arc, so I don’t know much about Tobirama or Kagami. I didn’t know they were teacher and student, and that’s surprising to me since I DO know Tobirama hates the Uchiha. And I don’t ship Kaka//Naru, it’s one of my no-go ships. And Kaka//Saku? My least favorite. All my mutuals (almost all lol) ship it, though, and I respect them and love them still. But KakaHina? Oh yes, that is my ship. My lovely, lovely ship. I was actually going to draw a special KakaHina picture just for you and tag you in it, but I didn’t want to be too petty.

I don’t ship children and adults together. I don’t even really like student/teacher relationships in media. You want to know why? Because a lot of my teachers in school were abusers. A lot of them manipulated students. A lot of the ones I liked and trusted and had classes with used their underage students and harmed them. I hate how it’s portrayed in media as something “oh so wrong but oh so right” because it teaches kids and adults that it’s okay when it’s not. But here’s a thing: I ship 18+ year old Hinata with characters. Not 12 year old Hinata. Not 15 year old Hinata. 18 year old Hinata. That may seem weird to you but age gaps aren’t too big of a deal for me when someone’s over 18 because there are huge age gaps in my family. My parents are 10 years apart. My aunt is like 20 years younger than her husband. My brother is 23 years older than me. If people don’t jive with age gaps like that, then that’s fine. I don’t mind. My irl friends think it’s a little strange but they love and respect me (and are on the look out for a sugar daddy for me lmao).

I agree, adults shouldn’t date children. It’s wrong and gross. That’s why I ship adult characters together. Isn’t it so cool that Hinata actually AGES in the show? She actually doesn’t STAY 12 years old?! Who knew she wasn’t the 6 year old vampire Claudia from The Vampire Chronicles all along! Thank God there’s such a thing as the passing of time. I know I wouldn’t want to be 12 forever. I hope you don’t either.

I’m sorry you feel so hateful and felt the need to stalk me after you blocked me on Tumblr. I’m sorry you feel the need to send me an anon message calling me filth and a dumbass (actually that’s the first time that’s happened lol, I feel like I accomplished something!). But I put up with your ships even when I didn’t like them or agree with them. I put up with your fanfictions and fanart of characters I don’t see together. I was kind about it, I was encouraging, I was gentle, I was compassionate, and I kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry that you felt the need to abandon ship (no pun intended) when you discovered my ship. (Which, by the way, since I know you saw my header since you’re stalking me, you’ll see the screen cap is from when they’re planning Naruto’s wedding. Naruto gets married at 19. That means Hinata is 19 in that photo. A lot of my friends and FAMILY got married at 19. One of my friends got married at 19 to a 26 year old.)

Also since you’re stalking me, that TobiKaga pic was posted 3 days ago. That either means you waited 3 days to concoct this beautiful hate message, trying to find the perfect words (great use of “idiot” and repetition of “publish this”) OR you stalked my blog back in 3 days worth of queued posts just to find something to be angry about. I don’t know what’s funnier.

If you’d sent this 2 days ago, I probably would’ve been really upset. I would’ve wanted to delete my blog and go into hiding for a thousand years. But I’m feeling good and you’ve inspired me. I think I am finally going to go through with all the KakaHina content I’ve been waiting to make. Thanks! I appreciate the supportive shove.

Though I do have to admit, you did get one thing right. I do have a thick skull. I can be so dense and scatterbrained sometimes. My theater teacher told me, “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on.” It’s true. But right now it looks like you’ve lost your head. Hopefully you can find it soon, along with that great dollop of kindness and maturity you kept telling me you had.

And I “can’t delete this” message? Uhhh… yeah I can. It’s called the “delete button.” It looks like this

At least it does in Japanese.

Hey! While I’m at it, let me tell you about my other ships!! So in RWBY I ship 18 year old Blake Belladonna with her best friend’s uncle, Qrow Branwen; her best friend’s DAD, Taiyang Xiao Long; her mortal enemy, Roman Torchwick; and her headmaster, Ozpin who is literally thousands of years old! I also think Hinata would be so cute with any of the other jounin in NARUTO! Genma? Raidou? Hayate? Why not! Heck, why not ship her with Jiraiya or Yamato. I could even do a time travel fic where she ends up with one of the Uchiha or Senju. I love AUs!

“I can’t believe I was ever considered friends with you”. LMAO. I love that you think that 1) this is an insult, and 2) this is the first time I’ve heard that. 😂😂😂 As if these past 4 years have been anything other than people leaving me. But honestly? BIG MOOD. Same gurl, same. And I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor through this traumatic event. God bless the comedians. But I’M STILL LAUGHING THAT YOU THINK I SHIP KAKA//NARU OR KAKA//SAKU. LMAAAOOOOO. NO HATE TO THOSE WHO DO BUT I’M SO CONFUSED BECAUSE ?? WHERE. ON. MY. BLOG. DID. YOU. SEE. THAT??? Kaka//Saku is a blocked tag of mine. The ONE (1) thing I have on my blog flagged as K//S is a Kakashi fanart where the OP mentioned K//S in their caption. I have a gut ache from laughing.

Gosh, your message is great. I love it. I’m thinking about making it a screenshot and setting it as my new header. I’m gonna put heart filters and sparkles on it. Maybe a face of an angry dog on it too for good measure. Priceless. Thank you for this gem. I was gonna go to bed on a sour note after some trouble figuring out work stuff, but this really boosted my mood.

You always know what to say to make me feel better aww ;)

Well sweet dreams! I hope you read all of this! It was so much fun to write it. I’d hate for you to miss any part of it. (Don’t be that guy who starts an argument and then never reads the person’s response because they “don’t care”. That’s just rude. Bad manners. Kind of like going into people’s inboxes and sending hate. Tsk tsk, who would ever do that? Oh … wait …)

Also I found a song for you!

youtube

xoxox 💖💖💖💖 Thanks for the message, nonny! Means so much you’re thinking about me!

OMG I JUST REALIZED. My tag for you was “splendid”. In Japanese, “splendid” is 立派 (rippa). I guess you RIPPA’d me a new one with this message!! Hahahaha.

#ask #answered #anon #hate message #abuse tw #anon hate #ship hate #not so anon hate #video #//miranda sings #kaka//hina #don't want it going into the tags #and ruining people's fun #//japanese lesson

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fordarkisthesuede · 6 years ago

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At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 9

*Arrives two days late with Starbucks* ‘Sup, guys! σ( ▼∀▼)σ These past 96 hours have somehow filled me with a weird chaotic energy, and I pumped out the longest roller-coaster of a chapter I’ve ever done in such a short amount of time!!! Thank you, whoever sent all the writing vibes my way!!!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ I’m sending out strong vibes to everybody in return! *May you get hit by the writing bug and have the opportunity and energy to completely translate your ideas to printed words!*

Buuut a big note before we get to the good stuff: I realized too late that the original events of S2 take place in Spring. Like…April. I was writing all of this with the thought that S2 took place in fall; I mean, the characters can wear a leather jacket or a couple of layers comfortably, so I thought “yeah that sounds like early autumn”. Nope! So that means that for this story’s timeline, everything gets shifted into where it should be. On the downside, that means I had to go through and edit all the bits where it said “it was totally spring, you guys”. On the upside… IT’S NOW OCTOBER!!!!! THE SPOOKY SEASON THAT COMPLETELY FITS WITH WHAT’S GOING ON!!! And coincidentally, it’s my favorite time of the year, so I love writing about it even more! I get to add in a thing here and there about the spookiest time of the year, so I’ll have a nice list of what those little changes are uploaded here soon if you don’t feel like re-reading the whole thing. A re-read isn't necessary though, just keep in mind that the humid air of rainy spring in the city is replaced with chilling fronts and even more cloud cover than usual. Why am I bothering with this? Because I’m a stickler for keeping with canon as much as possible and I feel like an absolute fool for not remembering what goddamn time of year it was to begin with. (I mean, I went so far as to download all of TeamFourStar’s play-through because I watched it so often, you think I'd remember to go back and watch the very beginning once in a while…)

Anywho, thank you all again for your continuously loving support!!!

♡~(ɔ ˘3˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Important Spoiler Tags: drugs (mentioned), swearing, canon-typical violence, electric shocks (mentioned), torture of flowers, flirting, almost an excessive use of emoji, crying, romantic dirty thoughts

Read on Ao3 or continue below:

Chapter 9: Grapevines

Bruce Wayne couldn’t remember the last time he’d conducted a meeting from his home office. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it – the desk surface had hardly any dust settled on it and two empty coffee mugs he’d forgotten about on two different occasions just happened to be stacked behind the monitor – but it felt strange, like a lot of things did lately.

He knew part of the reason for that was watching houses down in the Batcave right now. Knowing he wasn’t alone in the house was comforting, but knowing there were two cops outside the Manor’s front door just waiting for a chance to grab his best friend-cum-houseguest was not, and knowing that they were both close to being thrown in hot water was even less so.

He figured the other reason he felt strange was because he was slipping back into his old habit as if it had never been shelved in the first place. He had time to kill before the video meeting started, so he’d been scouring for information on “Pam”, Jonathan Crane’s ‘old friend’.

There were a few Pamela’s in Gotham, but only one fit within Crane’s age-range and attended Gotham University at about the same time: Pamela Isley, a forty-four-year-old former botanist with a record that ran the length of his arm. Theft, assault, threats, and attempted poisonings all done in the name of extreme environmentalism and social activism were sprinkled in her history before and after her days as a researcher, and according to GCPD records, she was now suspected of running her own drug-ring under the moniker of ‘Poison Ivy’. (Bruce found several recorded instances of people claiming to be Poison Ivy, most of whom were already arrested.)

Bruce would’ve wondered why on Earth she hadn’t been thrown in prison when she made a bomb-threat at a wealthy businessman several states away nearly a decade ago if he hadn’t seen her mug-shot from back then. At thirty-five, she looked every bit as beautiful as a top-billed Hollywood star, with natural orange-red curls cascading over her pale shoulders and ample bust in chemically-tamed waves, flashing the camera a come-hither stare that made it look like she was trying for a part in a high-budget porn flick rather than standing in front of a height chart for her criminal record. Pamela’s charges were mysteriously swept under the rug.

The latest photo he found of her reminded him a bit of those ‘cougar’ dating ads he’d seen – the older Pamela was blowing a kiss to the camera with a mocking look in her dark green eyes. Bruce glared at it. There was little doubt she was using people to cover for her constantly, and when she was in trouble, she managed to wriggle out of it with her looks.

Not this time. She was friends with Dr. Jonathan Crane, and that meant she wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. The second his virtual meeting was over, Bruce was heading towards Toxic Acres, and hopefully the wounded Crane would still be there to see Batman’s fist hit his –

Bruce snapped out of his thoughts at the buzz of his phone. A message from the BatComputer…?

I’m bored :/

Bruce blinked down at the screen. John had found the emergency messaging system. Of course he had. He was just grateful that the encryption software on his phone was still up to date. Just what else did John poke his nose into down there…? (There was the chance that John would see files he shouldn’t, but Bruce kept those under a thumbprint encryption. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.)

Stake-outs are usually pretty boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were down here tho! :)

Bruce hovered his thumb over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. The feeling was kind of mutual, if he was being honest; having another person around on a stakeout would at least keep his mind wandering into the worsts of what-ifs and double-checking every last security issue…

No movement on either houses btw. Been reading Crane’s docs in the meantime but it’s DREADFUL!!! I feel like I’m reading a sleeping pill… =_=

You finish your WE stuff yet?

Meeting’s not for another 20 minutes. Been looking up stuff on Crane’s “friend”.

Oh??? :o Do tell!!!!

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm.

Pamela Isley, former botanist w/ criminal rec., mostly extreme protest kind of stuff. Good chance she’s the head of a drug-ring that moved here a couple months ago; their leader goes by “Poison Ivy”.

They went to college together, but Pamela moved back here recently.

hMmMmm…. That means no burning the place down if we’re stuck! Bad fumes everywhere xP

Bruce focused on the word “we’re”. He hadn’t been planning on bringing John along. He wanted him safe, at home, where no one had a chance of seeing him and he wasn’t put in harm’s way…

Oh!!! You’ve got a bunch of sticky electro-shockers around - do you mind if I tinker with them? :3c pleeeeaaasssee?

What are you thinking of doing with them?

Making one BIIIIIG shock-bomb, of course! ;D I can wire them together so the shock spreads evenly in the space while it’s discharging.

Bruce reconsidered bringing John. He was still learning to curb his impulses, so being outside in a fighting environment would be a serious gamble, but... Maybe that could be their advantage, too. Bruce made a mental note to go dig out the spare bullet-proof vest from his closet’s secret panel.

You can do that?

I played around with making something like it before, but……well, you know.

Time + supplies for that project were low att. I figured I could always go back to it later anyway.

Bruce felt like his heart had deflated and swelled in such a short time that it hurt.

I mean I’m fine with throwing knives around too but I figured that would be less discrete ¯\_(ツ )_/¯

He’d been thinking of different methods of entering the “house”. Most of them featured a silent slip-in and as little combat as possible, but he knew that there would likely be some muscle around to stop any would-be intruders, and getting a quieter jump on them would certainly be helpful. He would certainly be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that John had thought that far ahead even back then.

If you think you can get it done within 1.5 hours, then yes.

Ha ha ha with these supplies I can get it done in like 40 mins! >:3 just you watch!!!

Btw have you seen the news?

Not yet. Why?

I was on the morning edition! At least they used a good pic ;D

But also saw a guy getting fished out of the harbor. Your handy-dandy invasion software said he’s a registered Ryde driver.

I told you not to fiddle with that.

Sorry, but I only used it the once! Promise!!!

Bruce sighed through his nostrils.

Besides I thought you’d want to know. Think Crane stole his ride and dumped him by the docks? :v

Probably. I can get the plate from up here to verify. DO NOT TOUCH THAT PROGRAM AGAIN.

Yes sir ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bruce wasn’t sure if that message was supposed to be flirtatious or mocking.

The incoming call from Iman Avesta stopped him from responding. He figured it had to do with John’s escape and the extra security added at Wayne Tower this morning, but why was she calling him now, rather than several hours ago?

“Iman?”

“Hey, Bruce. Hold on a sec – there we go, now we can both -”

“Bruce, what the fuck?” Tiffany asked over the line. “Are you at home right now?”

Bruce almost sighed at the attitude. “Yes, Tiffany, I’m at home, in my office.”

“Uh-huh. I keep getting alerts that your basement’s messaging system is being used. Care to explain that?”

Oh. Of course. He’d forgotten Tiffany had linked her phone to that, too. It’d just…been too long, he supposed. (She couldn’t read them, though, could she? He was fairly sure it didn’t give out mass-texts unless prompted.) “…where are you right now?”

Iman responded instead. “We’re in your second office.”

“…the line’s secure?”

“Of course.” Iman paused, and Bruce knew his new CSO was choosing her words carefully. “I’m guessing you have John Doe in the Batcave?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce, did you fucking break him out?” Tiffany asked with no shortness of impatience.

“I rescued him,” Bruce said firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to say, but listen: I had no choice but to take him with me. One of the doctors working at Arkham has gone rogue – he’d been doing experiments on patients, and I have a feeling he’s going to continue them on civilians. I need to find him before then, and John has been helping me.”

“Helping…? You’re not bringing him in the field with you?” Tiffany said disbelievingly. “After that psychopath almost killed us?”

Bruce could still see Joker running at Tiffany, knife in hand, his psychotic breakdown in full force. He could still see him being smacked against the railing, sheer madness played over his long, bloody face as he desperately fought to stab what was his hero.

But John and Joker were as much the same as Bruce and Batman were, and they were constantly changing.

The Joker in the Batcave wasn’t the same one from Ace Chemicals.

“I know what John did,” he answered, trying to breathe even as something wanted to hitch in his throat, “and I know how far he’s come since then. I know you both regret-”

“No, I’m not listening to this right now,” Tiffany scowled, her voice fading in the middle her sentence like she was leaving the room. “Talk some sense into him.”

Bruce heard Iman’s voice call after her, and then nothing for a beat.

Iman sighed. “I’ll talk to her. But Bruce,” she started seriously, “Tiffany isn’t the only one worrying about you. Six months can’t possibly cure everything wrong with a man whose spent his life in an asylum.” He could practically hear her chew over her phrasing. “I need to know… If John goes too far – if he shows signs of regressing…or just becoming more volatile – I need to know you’re going to put your foot down.”

“I’m more than capable of handling him, Iman.”

“Please, Bruce, I’d rather not have to pull you off another broken pipe lodged in your kidney.” She paused, and Bruce let her continue, feeling the scar in his side twinge at the painful memory. “I know you care a lot about him,” she resumed in a softer tone, “and I know you trust him. But if you doubt him at any time, you need you to step back and re-evaluate your choices. I don’t want him to regress back into the Joker.”

That was a different Joker, Bruce wanted to say. He knew that wouldn’t sound the way it should. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

“Good to know,” Iman replied, sounding somewhat relieved. “This doctor you’re hunting – is there anything we can do to help?”

Bruce shot a look at the clock in the corner of his monitor. He didn’t have as much time left as he would’ve liked before his virtual meeting started. “Tiffany can fill you in a bit, I had her help searching Arkham’s records before. Can you run a plate for me? I think Dr. Crane is running with a stolen car; I’ll send you the details in a bit.”

“Sure. We can check traffic cams for it, too, if you’d like.”

“If you would. And the second I have anything concrete on Dr. Crane, I’m sending Tiffany the details – I need her pull as Oracle to get the word out to the GCPD before anything happens. They’ll listen to their number-one informant more than a vigilante coming out of retirement.”

“…you’re…?”

He could almost see the shock in her face. They’d had a short discussion about his alter-ego when he decided to quit the first time; she’d been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It was almost as if she’d seen it coming.

“Are you sure?”

He was as sure. She didn’t know about the instincts broiling underneath his surface every day. She didn’t know he never really stopped being half of himself. She wouldn’t know or really understand that he just shoved it all down and aside like he did so much else just to get through things. “I don’t have any other options at this point.”

“…you know you can count on us if you need the help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Right. Well, in the meantime we’ll keep the fort over here running as smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

The line went silent, and Bruce pulled his phone away, catching a glimpse of three unread messages.

Sorry, buddy, I was just kidding around, you know? Ha ha

Bruce???

Hello???????

Sorry, had a phone call and couldn’t reply. It’s fine.

Seconds ticked by, and Bruce began changing out of his black t-shirt and into his button-down. It wouldn’t do to appear as a CEO in anything less than a proper suit. He could leave the jeans on, at least.

“Oh! Uh…sorry, Bruce…”

He felt his heart stop for a second. That was definitely John’s voice, even though it crackled slightly from the speakers. The monitor didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. John must have been using the spy-camera feature on the Batcomputer; it was linked to most the devices in the house, and Bruce’s webcam was no exception. He’d almost forgotten it had a loudspeaker function, too.

“I didn’t realize you were…um, changing.”

Bruce glared at the webcam’s lens. “John, what did I tell you about fiddling with the Batcomputer?”

“…sorry. I was worried when you didn’t answer me.”

He sounded genuine, at least. Bruce could easily picture him running upstairs to find him, if there wasn’t a chance he would’ve been seen. “I answered you a minute ago. I was on a call with Iman,” he stated plainly, fixing the buttons on his sleeves.

“…oh, ha ha, there it is! Uh, I guess I’ll just…go, then…”

Bruce almost questioned why John was sounding nervous and distracted, but it wasn’t until he saw the webcam light wink off again that he realized his shirt was wide open, the scars littering his torso half on display from the waist up.

Thankfully, no one was around to see Bruce bury his face in the palm of his hand for a moment, feeling like his face was on fire from first and second-hand embarrassment.

It didn’t last long. Bruce took a few deep breaths as he fixed himself up, and dialed into the meeting with a fixed expression of calm, firmly ignoring the heat that had settled in his stomach that threatened to go lower at the thought that John was bound not to forget any of that.

Driving the Batmobile in full gear again was certainly something else. Bruce felt the weight of the Kevlar body armor press against his limbs as he sped down Gotham’s twisting alley streets, no one any the wiser that the Wayne’s red sports car was hiding Batman behind it. The city’s CCTV signal was scrambled with the flick of a switch as he came into driving distance of the alley’s camera, making him almost untraceable.

He’d given the Honda Accord a head-start; it couldn’t go nearly as fast as the Batmobile, and Bruce had to find a spot to safely change before going to go pick John up from his drop-off point, and the post-working-hours traffic had already gotten its usual early start. It was a slower drive than he’d like it to be, even with Bruce’s shortcuts.

The setting sun was completely obscured by a dark overcast. It made the orange streetlamps glowing over the decorations sitting here and there in windows and doors even more energetic, like every corner of Gotham was slowly growing with the energy of Halloween.

Bruce clicked the communicator in his cowl. “John, are you there yet?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then a rustling noise. “Sorry, I had to take this off for a bit. What?”

“Are you there yet?”

John giggled slightly. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. Just waiting on you, pal.”

He was already at the meeting point? How did he get there so fast? “You put everything back where it was supposed to be?”

“No, I stripped the seats and threw everything into the garbage,” John grumbled with dripping sarcasm. “Of course I did, it’d be rude not to put Jerry’s stuff back. What do you take me for?”

“…I’m just making sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“I didn’t.” There was a loud slurping noise, like the last of a liquid being sucked from a straw.

“John, where are you right now?”

“In the alley, waiting for you.”

“Did you make a stop?”

John giggled, a little louder, but not at all nervous. He was enjoying himself. “What can I say? Going out on the town with you like this makes me thirsty,” he said with a strange purr. “Besides, no one bats an eye at me when I look like this anyway.” He paused. “Well, no, I’ve gotten some eyes on me, but, uh, I think they’re more the appreciative type. I guess ZZ Top was kinda right about the sharp-dresser thing.”

Bruce felt his brows knit together. “You’ve always looked sharp,” he said truthfully, turning down a narrow alley.

“Yeah, but not thousand-dollar-suit sharp. There’s a difference! Plus I think this bullet-proof vest makes me look a little bulkier than I actually am.”

Bruce spotted him leaning against the graffiti-covered wall, a Burger Lord cup in one hand and a plastic orange bag in another. Just how much time did Bruce lose while he was changing?

John tossed the drink in the dumpster and practically jumped into the car, shoving the orange bag behind the driver seat and slamming the door shut as Bruce switched off the communicator. He took one look at Bruce’s questioning glower and gave a nervous sort of grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, there’s something in there for you, too.”

Bruce almost asked what, but decided that a lecture on keeping a low profile and not taking money from his house’s various hiding spots would have to wait. (Though he supposed whatever John got wasn’t expensive. He was quite frugal, and it wasn’t as if Bruce couldn’t afford to buy John whatever he wanted anyway.) He concentrated instead on heading down the twisting path towards Toxic Acres. At least the traffic over there was a hell of a lot lighter.

“Hey, when you drove me to the Batcave, did you go in fourth gear, or third?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just recalled putting his foot to the floor and keeping his eyes on the road, occasionally reaching over to check John’s pulse. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that; I concentrating more on driving as fast as possible.”

“Oh – so you didn’t know you could punch the shift down into third whenever you wanted? It was so fun! I can say I literally punched it out of the Batcave!” He laughed. “I’m guessing you can’t do that in this car?”

“…I’ve got paddle shifters.” They were starting to travel into the more deserted road leading into Toxic Acres. Bruce took a sharp turn onto the hill with the broken Do Not Enter sign, and checking that no one was behind him, flipped the switch to shift the car into armored plates and pressed the wheel-paddle for a lower gear.

They flew down the road with a whirring whine of the engine, John’s notorious excited laugh mixing with it, and Bruce allowed himself to smile a little at it, knowing his own little joyful thrill wouldn’t last very long.

John was soon tapping his fingers together in some kind of rhythm as they passed by more empty houses, Bruce moving a little slower to keep his eyes out for trouble. Sitting close to the river on the outskirts of the city, they were originally meant to be a long neighborhood for the middle and upper class to build their lives, but as the unemployment and crime rates rose, the place became abandoned. It didn’t help that the piping structure to carry water there had been faulty, making either lead poisoning or unfiltered dirty water a prominent problem and giving the section of Gotham its nickname.

“How do we know which place is the botanist’s?” John asked, his green eyes scouring the houses in front of them.

“I sent out another drone earlier for some aerial shots. There’s a place with camouflaged green-houses in the back on Aster Place.”

“Wow, you did that before I left? That was fast…”

“It was a quick job. I’m not picking up the other drone until later.”

They turned the corner onto Aster Place; the road would dead-end in a while, but Bruce knew the house wouldn’t be situated at the end.

“Oh, there’s the spot Jackie got shot at!” John pointed ahead. “I wonder if there’s a bloodstain left…!”

Bruce tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re close.”

It was oddly quiet out there. There was no other sign of life in what was a hot-spot of criminal hide-outs. Bruce turned on the thermal vision in his cowl; a lot of the houses were actually empty for once.

Except for one. 1801 Aster Place. There were a group of people scattered around on the bottom floor and what appeared to be a lot of heat-lamps running on the top floor. If one of the people in the group wasn’t Pamela Isley, then she might have been holding up in the basement…

They left the Batmobile out of sight down the road, and Bruce and John moved swiftly behind the backs of the houses in the chilly night air, the taser bomb safely in John’s coat pocket; John was surprisingly quiet, only humming a familiar tune here and there. (Wasn’t it the theme from that old spy-thriller…?) Bruce managed to quiet him with a look, and John mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

Two unknown people were standing in what used to be a kitchen; three more people were up in the front room of the house. There were no security cameras to be seen.

“Stick close to me,” Bruce whispered, the modifier in his cowl deepening his voice. “We go in through the back window, take out the two in the kitchen quietly and throw the bomb up front so we can cuff the lot. If none of them are Ms. Isley, we find the basement.”

John gave him a thumbs up, pulling out the riot baton he had hidden away. (Bruce had still not remembered when he or Alfred bought that, but vaguely remembered stashing it in the towel cupboard with some other emergency gear. He wasn’t surprised John found it.)

The bathroom window’s locks weren’t difficult to break. They looked like they had been broken several times already. Bruce slid the insect screen up and slipped in through the thin opening feet-first, twisting his limbs just right to softly land on the floor. He had to help pull John through the rest of the way after he smacked his head on the bottom of the window; thankfully he hadn’t made any noise, but he did give Bruce a strange look as brushed himself off where Bruce had gripped his sides.

Bruce didn’t have time to think about it.

The two people in the kitchen stood in semi-darkness, watching through the patio windows with rifles leaning against the wall. There wasn’t so much a bare bulb to give off light. Bruce figured their eyes might have adjusted to the dark, and signaled John to follow as he crept up behind the two goons.

“I dunno, with all the hype surrounding episode four, you just know those guys are going to mess up somewhere. Remember when they decided to let Celestyne drop to his death back in season one?” The one with dreadlocks asked.

“Oh, come on, that was just to test the game’s limits. Besides, Celestyne couldn’t die; I don’t think Jane can, either,” the second person responded in a higher voice with a casual shrug.

“Dude, you know the game’s gonna make her a villain in the end, though, right? She might die…”

Bruce was ready. John was gripping the baton with a widening grin…

“Are you kidding me? They have her affection meter up so high I’m surprised the game doesn’t have a dating opt-”

Bruce slammed dreadlocked goon’s head into the wall just as the baton crashed down on the other goon’s skull, little smears of blood marking the plaster and paint with a satisfying crack.

John clutched the collar of the goon he’d struck, gripping the slightly bloody baton a little harder in his other hand. He seemed to be thinking.

Bruce took a zip-tie out and cuffed the goon’s hands behind their back, and wondered just what John was staring at until he’d turned the person around and caught a glimpse of them in the light of the window.

They were both women with little tattoos of vines creeping along the back of their necks.

If Bruce guessed right, those were ivy leaves on the vine. Poison Ivy had a loyal gang.

John zip-tied the wrists of the woman he’d struck and patted the part of her head that wasn’t wounded. “Sorry,” he whispered as if she would hear it. “Lauren’s ex,” John mumbled, gesturing to the woman on the floor as if he knew Bruce had raised his eyebrow at him.

Bruce simply swept onward, spying the door for the basement. There was a light on in the front room, and three women who looked like they could be professional boxers of different weight categories were sitting in different areas. One was sharpening a knife at the table, and another was cleaning a semi-automatic rifle as the third kept watch over a monitor showing security camera footage; three looked to be by the greenhouses (Bruce recognized the Foxglove variety growing in one under an opening in the glass, sitting next to something that looked primeval), and two were watching over the plants upstairs (marijuana, by the looks of it) and in the basement.

There was a figure in the last screen, working over a row of potted plants with low lamps. A zoom-in with Bruce’s lenses showed long red hair.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, and John crept ahead him, the taser-bomb in hand: it looked like a mass of the sticky-bombs grouped together, colorful wiring connecting them all like some kind of net, and before Bruce could do or say anything, John threw it into the living room, where it tumbled into the middle of the floor.

The group began to shoot out of their seats in a second, and in the next the ball seemed to expand like a geometric toy, the wired tasers being thrown in the air with a flash before smacking people and surfaces alike as they discharged. All three people fell to the floor in trembling heaps, and John dashed out and started to cuff them, Bruce close behind.

The electric bombs were safe to touch now that they had fully discharged, so Bruce had no qualm about stomping on the lightly-burning sections of carpet underneath some of them to prevent any spread of fire as he pushed them aside. The bulkiest goon wasn’t quite down for the count; she was still conscious.

She yanked John off her fallen comrade by his shoulder and threw him into the table’s edge. Bruce threw a Batarang at her arm just as she was about to punch, and John gave a swift knee to her stomach as she flinched.

She fell to the floor with a louder crash and a grunt, pulling the Batarang out from her arm and letting it drop to the floor. “You fucker…” She said, glaring up at John before looking over at Bruce, her eyes widening as he approached with more Batarangs at the ready. “B-Batman…?”

“Yup! He’s real,” John said playfully before smacking the side of her head with the baton. “And so am I,” he added with a growl. He decided to tie her wrists behind the nearest table leg. “I hate not being able to call myself Joker like this… Really sells it better.”

Bruce felt his heart twitch at the name. “You can call yourself that, if it helps,” Bruce said gently, tying the monitoring-station woman’s wrists together, “Just not to people’s faces.”

“Kinda defeats the point,” John grumbled.

Bruce shot a look at the security monitor – Pamela Isley didn’t seem to have heard anything. Still, precaution should be used. “Let’s go,” he said plainly, sweeping out of the room with a swish of his cape.

John tucked a hand into his pocket and followed.

The basement stairs were carpeted and quiet, but Bruce was careful to walk on the outsides rather than the middle. Spiders had clearly made themselves right at home in the damp corners of the walls, and he had to duck to avoid getting the tips of his cowl’s ears stuck in one of their webs. A soft sort of click was heard behind his back, and Bruce figured John had gotten out his grappling gun.

Pamela Isley was bent over a row of exotic-looking orchids posed under heat lamps, dabbing something into the center of a blue orchid’s petals. Bruce saw several troughs full of hallucinogenic mushrooms sitting on the other side of the wall.

“There you go, my darling,” she cooed in a honeyed voice, acting like she was carefully painting the center of the flower, “You’ll soon be the belle of the ball…”

Bruce eyed the electrical box on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to drown the place in darkness; he’d be able to see, but John wouldn’t. The best bet was to tackle and restrain her.

Or…

Bruce took out his own grappling gun, and aimed it at Isley’s collar. One click, and it snagged her shirt with practiced ease.

“What the-?!”

Pamela Isley was suddenly dragged yelping through the air at an angle, smacking hard into one of the tables and spilling several unusual potted flowers to the floor.

Bruce grabbed her and threw her to the concrete floor, standing over her with several Batarangs in his hand as John cackled beside him.

“Jonathan Crane,” Bruce growled out, “Where is he?”

Pamela Isley sat up, shock written all over her face as she processed exactly what happened – it quickly morphed to a steely stare. “Batman,” she said slowly in a sweet voice, “I thought you were an urban legend,” she continued, wiping the corner of her mouth where a dribble of blood leaked out. “Do you always treat a lady this way?”

Bruce dragged her up by her collar and threw her against the wall, keeping her at arm’s length. “I know he bought plants from you today. Tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” She taunted, smirking widely at him. “You think I haven’t been knocked around by men before? I’ve been in whole worlds of hurt, honey.”

There was the distinct sound of the grappling wire rushing through the air, and then an enormous crash – John had taken out one of the mushroom tables, the fungi now breaking and bouncing against the floor it the scattered in the dirt.

“Whoopsie,” John hummed, a wide unnerving grin on his face, “butter-fingers.”

Isley looked rather taken aback, but the expression quickly warped into a mocking glare. “You think destroying my inventory is going to intimidate me?”

John shrugged, leaning back against a table and knocking over a several small tropical plants with a slide of his hand, shattering the clay pots and sending the plants scattering to the hard floor.

That definitely got her attention; her face paled slightly and there was tremble in her. “Stop that!”

Bruce glared at her, mentally thanking John for his quick thinking. “Tell me where Crane is and I’ll consider stopping him from tearing this place apart.”

Her dark green eyes glared at him with a slow-boiling dislike. “Let me go first.”

Bruce did a very quick once-over; she didn’t seem to have a gun holster on her, and she was definitely a lighter build than the rest of her gang. Knives were still a possibility. He decided to let go, keeping a Batarang between his fingers just in case as he stepped just out of her reach.

Pamela dusted off her green turtleneck. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. He bought a few of my flowers and left,” she said, crossing her arms.

John laughed, fingering the leaves of the blue orchid she’d been attending. “With a hole in his shoulder? You didn’t even offer a band-aid for that?”

Pamela was closely eyeing the plant in John’s hand. “What if I did?”

“I know he’s a friend of yours, Isley,” Bruce growled. “You’re the only one who could know what he’s planning.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she stated, “and I don’t care. I’m not his mother.”

“I can see why you were paying such close attention to this one,” John hummed, fingering the petals with a gloved hand. “It’s so pretty. You put a lot of effort into keeping all these, huh?” He grinned at her, almost looking like his usual self. “It’s not just some financial scheme for you, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Pamela stared at him, trying to keep her voice level; Bruce noticed her eyes kept flicking slightly downward, like she was watching the plant. “I breed and sell rare plants to collectors on the side.”

“Oh good! So this won’t bother you!”

In a swift move, John cut the blossom off the stem with the bowie knife one of the group upstairs had been sharpening.

The blossom fell to the table, and Pamela Isley looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

John picked up the blossom. “Let’s see – she’s honest,” he said playfully, plucking a petal from the stem, “she’s not!” He pulled another.

“STOP IT!” Pamela shrieked, making to rush at him – Bruce pulled her back and pointed the tip of the Batarang at her face. She glanced at it fearfully, but then looked back at the flower being torn apart in John’s hand, and it looked like she was watching a child die before her eyes.

“Stop that,” Bruce instructed; John hummed and held it still. “Talk, or my partner and I crush every plant in this place.”

Isley stared at the flower in John’s hand. “I… I don’t know what he’s planning,” she said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. John only touched the tip of a petal before she spoke again – “But-! But I know… He’s building something. He didn’t say what, but he asked for some muscle - I hooked him up with some of Maroni’s old boys.” She shut her eyes and took a breath before glaring at John like he was a complete monster. “I hope the lot of them tears you limb from limb.”

Bruce forced Isley’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them. “Down on the ground,” he growled, pushing down on the top of her head. John pointed the grappling gun in her face with a smirk; a good insurance if she decided to try and elbow Bruce in the face.

Pamela shot them both a hateful glare as she knelt down, and it didn’t waver as her ankles were tied, too. “I won’t forget this,” she spat.

Bruce sent off a message to Tiffany regarding the coordinates of “Poison Ivy”’s headquarters from his gauntlet. He knew she’d get the word out before he could even get back in the car. “Tell it to the judge,” he taunted, leading the way out of the basement, not missing the sparkle in John’s eyes as he followed, the severed, torn orchid blossom having been carelessly thrown at Pamela Isley’s feet.

John gathered up the sticky bomb device before they hustled back to the Batmobile, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that he spoke, and when he did it was in a tone Bruce would almost call revered.

“So, what do we do now, partner?” He asked, a definite glow on his face.

“We go look at some of the Maroni gang’s old haunts and see if we can find anyone recently hired,” Bruce said, the voice modifier in his cowl now disabled. He glanced at his recent text messages: one from Tiffany giving the ok on Poison Ivy, and another from Iman with the last known location of the stolen Ryde car. “After we look into the motels in the red-light district. Crane might’ve stayed there.”

John laughed to himself, but for once he didn’t share the joke; instead, he pulled out a packet of jerky from the plastic bag he’d brought along. “I knew this would be a long night,” he said cheerfully, as if he was really looking forward to the whole thing.

It was well past one in the morning when Bruce arrived back home through the front gate, the Batsuit stowed away and the plates flipped back to red. The two patrol officers were only somewhat surprised to see him arrive back. Naturally, they reported nothing new, since John had been dropped off in the Batcave first.

Sore muscles were nothing new to Bruce. The old strained climb back up to his bed was just as annoying as ever. He honestly didn’t feel like he wanted to sleep, but after following several empty leads over the city and bruising a few heads alongside John, he did admit that he was physically exhausted. He knew lying down was better than nothing, and he still had to go to work in several hours like he didn’t have a double life. At least he wasn't starving, thanks to John thinking ahead and buying him protein-and-carb-filled snacks.

He forced himself to go through his usual nightly routine, despite the temptation to just flop into bed and lay there. He looked at the bruises on his back and ribs from where John had struggled against him under the influence of Crane’s drug, and decided not to bother putting the bruise-away cream on them, nor on the new ones forming on his shoulder from where one of the former mobsters had hit him.

When he did finally collapse onto the master bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his brain still decided to chat away at him.

There were no leads as to who exactly Isley had hired for Crane. Bruce cursed himself for not trying to work the specifics out of her. At least he knew she was arrested for drug possession and manufacturing, as well as smuggling illegal fauna.

There was no word on the whereabouts of Jackie Lant. Her car was missing, and she’d called into work sick. Her apartment hadn’t been visited in the entire time Bruce had his drone’s eye on it, and neither Tiffany nor Iman had seen anything when they looked into Jackie’s friends’ places, either. All Bruce knew was that she hadn’t called an ambulance to fetch her from Toxic Acres, that she hadn’t been admitted to a hospital, and that there was no sign of her body either in the Acres or in the Gotham River.

She was alive, somewhere, and Bruce didn’t know what she was going to do next. He hoped she was just going to lie low until he caught Crane.

Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. His house was still empty. He didn’t seem to be staying at any of the motels – or hotels – around the red-light district or its surrounding streets, and nothing had come of a quick credit-card check. The Ryde driver the GCPD fished out of the River that morning had been shot in the head, and his car was so common that if Crane could’ve switched the license plate with anything and been completely invisible. They’d done a quick search of the warehouse district and found no sign of him there, either.

Bruce had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t going to find Crane until the doctor reared his head.

The billionaire rolled onto his stomach, shoving the anxious thought away as he pressed his cheek further into the plush black jersey pillowcase. There were a couple more places he could check tomorrow…

The bedroom door creaked, and Bruce’s eyes shot open, a second away from grabbing the billy-club under his pillow – he could see John’s messy hair in his dark silhouette.

“Bruce? You awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“…can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bruce noticed he closed the door behind him. Like he was planning to stay there.

That definitely put a new light onto the situation. A tense thrill was building in his shoulders as John deigned to sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Bruce.

John was only wearing his Arkham-regulated pants, and the pale white of his bare skin almost shone in the light streaming in from the window. Bruce saw several bruises forming, one of which was from where he’d gotten grabbed by the shoulder by a Poison Ivy goon, and several more where he’d gotten knocked into.

“…I don’t think I can sleep in that guest room,” John sighed. “I mean, I tried my usual methods of sleep induction, but… It’s too big…and empty. I’m really not used to that.” His voice came out quieter and more contemplative. “I know it’s weird, but do you mind if I sleep in here?” He asked, turning halfway to look right at Bruce.

He felt trapped. If he said no, at the worst John would sulk, and at the best John wouldn’t get any sleep, and that was definitely worse for his mental health. John had mentioned before about how regular sleep cycles were supposed to help with that.

If he said yes, though, he’d know he was sleeping next to John, and there was the tiny worry in the back of his head that John might…try something. Or at least roll over too much.

“I promise I’ll stay over on my side,” John muttered, not tearing his eyes away.

“Alright.”

A sweet smile stretched on his face. “Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret this.”

“If you keep talking, I might.”

John giggled as he slid beneath the covers on the far side of the bed, flopping one of the extra pillows down between them. “There – a no-roll barrier,” he said as if he had to explain the concept to Bruce.

It did not escape Bruce’s attention that John had decided to lie facing him and rest his arm on top of the pillow. John had pulled the covers up to just underneath his armpits; Bruce could see John's sharp collarbone and the lean wiry muscle of his chest. (Bruce made sure not to look for more than a moment's curiosity would allow.)

God, John’s face was actually his for the first time that whole night. Bruce had gotten used to seeing it in the natural makeup, but it was almost a relief to see it in its normal borderline-luminescent white. He looked like the man Bruce knew.

Acid-green eyes stared at him, flicking slightly and growing soft. “I…did want to talk to you about something, though. If it’s okay.”

“I suppose I’m still awake,” Bruce said in an attempt to lighten the tension in his arms. “Sure.”

“Do you ever…look back on something, and think about the worst thing that could’ve happened in that situation?”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he had. Usually in his worst moods, he’d think about how everything could’ve gone wrong. He’d usually think about everything he could’ve done better, too. “I try not to, but…sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about our fight a lot, lately,” John confessed, “At Ace. I used to think about it a lot when I got recommitted, but… You started visiting me,” he said softly, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You remember when I told you I thought I’d messed things up for us?”

“Yeah.” It was Bruce’s first visit to John. He never forgot the sheer hopeful joy on John’s face upon seeing him. It was practically engraved in his memory.

“Ever since I started sessions with Crane, I kept going back to that night. He always tried to weasel my worst secrets out of me,” he said with a low scowl, “but when he started using that…toxin on me… I kept…thinking about what could have happened back there. I… I know I almost killed you.”

The sheer pain reading in John’s eyes was enough to make Bruce want to wrap his arms around him. It was beautiful and raw and honest, and Bruce found himself holding stock still, almost captivated by the expression.

“I kept seeing it. Over and over – it was like I could see myself throwing you over the railing or-or stabbing you, or...” Bruce saw tears welling up as John clenched the pillow between them. “I don’t want to come close to that again, Bruce,” he managed to say, his voice starting to hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to kill you.”

Bruce threw his pride away and grabbed John’s hand in his. “You won’t.”

“You…you don’t know that,” John said with a light sob. “If…if I…go back to how I was… If I mess up...”

Bruce squeezed his hand, feeling the soft skin twitch under his fingertips. “I won’t pretend you’re perfect,” he said, honesty seeping through every word, “but I know you, John. I know you’re not going after Crane out of revenge, like you did with Waller. You reached out to me for help – but you were already trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to just stabbing him with the nearest shiv.”

John sniffed, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was almost smiling. “Yeah…”

“So you’re not the same person you were then, are you?” He soothed with a supportive smile. “Even if you feel you are going backward, I know it won’t be to that same point.”

“Maybe…” he said with another sniff, looking more serious. “But Bruce, you know there are things I can’t ever really stop, right? The auditory psychosis is pretty much going to stay with me the rest of my life,” he started, clutching Bruce’s hand back, “and I’m not going to lie here and pretend my pulse wasn’t pounding a mile a minute when we were fighting those mobsters out there.” He sported a small knowing grin at him. “You know what that’s like, though, don’t you…”

(Yes, he did.)

“…you know what’s funny? I used to think one bad day could turn a person completely upside down.” John managed to stroke his thumb against Bruce’s knuckle, sending a little shiver over the skin, and Bruce wondered if John knew how incredibly intimate that gesture felt as he stared softly at him from the pillow. “Especially after Waller came to town… But…I never really thought things could go back up after it. I guess it just…takes a while.”

Bruce knew there was something right in John’s line of thinking. It only took one day to turn his life on its head, and he felt he knew, despite John having no memory of his life before Arkham, that something similar had happened to him. “Well…they say time heals all wounds.”

“How much passed before yours started to heal?”

He almost didn’t want to answer. The truth was that he wasn’t sure at all if he was ever going to fully heal, despite knowing what his parent’s really were. Maybe it was because he knew the terrible truth about them that they wouldn’t ever heal right. Maybe he’d always have that miserable note in the background of his life.

“…I’m still healing.”

“I didn’t say you stopped, buddy,” John chuckled with a knowing look. “Still…got good days and bad days, huh?”

“Feels like it, yeah.” Today…was definitely more of a mixed day. Looking at John across from him, though, all honest and open, and thinking back to how it felt to fight alongside him again, and investigate with him, with that warmth and instant familiar comfort between that never faded away, he almost felt like he wanted to call it a good day. “Today might have tilted things right-side up.”

John laughed, a genuine, humored one that was almost infectious. “Now I know I’m rubbing off on you; that sounds like something I’d say!”

John slipped his hand away and turned to lie on his back, still chuckling to himself. The warmth still burned in Bruce’s palm, and he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away at all.

John turned to him once more, an all-too-familiar affection shimmering brightly in the green depths. It pulled Bruce in and made him feel like he should inch close enough to feel the warmth and security it promised. “’Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John turned over, leaving Bruce to stare at the bruises forming on his shoulders. There was the terrible temptation in his hands to shove the pillow between them aside and wrap his arm around the man’s middle so he could lean into that pale, battered back and bury his face in a head of soft, green hair.

There was a worse urge, one so vivid it almost made Bruce’s head spin – he could just reach out and touch the bruises, feather-light, and trail his fingertips down the curve of spine until it arched with a pleased shudder, and Bruce could follow that trail with his mouth as far as John would let him.

Bruce turned his head away, the memory of John’s lips on his coming to the front of his mind, and he shut out the mental image of repeating that kiss right then and there, telling himself that he really shouldn’t feel that way towards someone who desperately needed support, nor to his best friend who he’d left scarred in more ways than one, and certainly not someone who was both.

It had been a long time since Bruce shared a bed with someone, and far, far longer when he shared one with someone he didn’t have sex with.

He hoped that was all it was. Just the bed’s memory getting to him, and nothing else…

Notes: Super-sexy-plant-person-in-her-late-twenties Ivy is OUT. Cougar-aged-mobster-botanist Ivy is IN! >:)

I really wanted a different Ivy. I’m tired of the young, uber-sexy walking plant-human-hybrid that’s immune to all toxins and diseases; plants get diseases, too, and she’s so plant-like she should have some kind of physical humanizing weakness! It’s much more interesting to have a human who’s just built up an immunity and uses her babies for weapons and business; I kept her serious environmentalist trait, though, because while I dislike the anti-hero thing she’s got going on lately and would love to see her as a straight-up villain again, we do have to relate to her somehow, and her love of nature is always going to be a good part of her. Since Harley’s older, too, I figured it would be alright if they had a ten-year gap between them, so when Pam eventually goes to Black Gate one day, they’ll be pals. ;)

And Bruce you complete fool!!!! You should’ve kissed him!!! Why do you do this to yourseellllfff? D:

I'm sorry it took so long, but as you can tell, I had a lot to work on, and I’m doing my best to write the next chapter as quickly as I can while this nutty energy in my brain is still fresh. I’m trying to keep with my weekly schedule, but I hope you guys are okay with having a gap day, as appears to be the habit now. ( ._. ) I mean, no one yells at me or anything for being late, but I aim to please with my work, and part of that is being consistent.

I shall continue to try my hardest! (*｀へ´*) 彡3 See you next weekend!!!

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #fordarkisthesuede writes #I had a lot of fun coming up with a different ivy!#i like the idea that she heads her own gang despite being rather anti-people #like she doesn't even consider them when the JUCE force shows up #then again goons are rather expendable in the batman universes aren't they?#i can't believe i worked in a nod to TFS's playthroughs of TT bats #i still laugh when i rewatch the first season and they just let Selina drop #all because they were curious to see what would happen #so will ivy's info have an impact on future events?#only time will tell.........#also i'm serious about those writer vibes #i'm sending 'em all out #you'll all do great this week i can feel it #p.s. the ao3 chapters are already edited properly so i'll fix the tumblr ones asap

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hyungtop · 7 years ago

Text

best friends to idol couple: hyuk

you meet hyuk backstage at a music show

you walk into their waiting room and you’re like wHAT IS THIS because where is vixx i only see six models here huh

your head is spinning as you shuffle into line with the rest of your group members to greet them

all of the vixx members are nice but a little awkward because there are cameras

n and leo are the same age, n is the leader and the oldest and has a lilt to his voice when he talks

leo is intimidating but has the voice of an angel and is so so adorable when he talks

ken is the one with the beautiful hair and a big smile

ravi and hongbin are the same age, ravi has legs for miles and a tattoo that curls over his collarbone

hongbin has strong arms paired with big eyes, two cute dimples and a toothy grin

hyuk is the maknae, a little taller than the rest of them, with an insanely chiseled jaw and thighs close to bursting out of his pants. he doesn’t say much but nods along with whatever his hyungs say

when it’s time to leave and all the cameras are turned off, you hear someone call your name and hyuk presses a little slip of paper into your hands

you go to open it but he suddenly goes “ahHHH NOT HERE” and everyone starts snickering

the last thing you see before leaving is n getting his smirk literally wiped off his face by hyuk’s hand

once you’re in the hallway everyone crowds around and you unfold the piece of paper to find hyuk’s kakaotalk id and your face turns red

and if you make a mistake onstage it’s not because you’re thinking about him

later on, in the car on the way home, you add hyuk on kkt and he almost immediately messages you

he’s friendly and easy to talk to from the beginning, he always has something to say

even though he’s pretty busy, he always finds the time to text you

and since he never sleeps, when you come back from practice he’s always there for you to talk to

has the best stories and the best jokes

facetiming with him and seeing all the other members in various states of undress as they relax at home

facetiming with him and bragging about the food you’re getting vs whatever junk he’s managed to procure for himself late at night

facetiming in bathrobes curled up in white sheets but 1000 miles away from each other

watching him bother the hyungs (you heard he was a shit but now you know it’s real)

listening to him talk about starlights with adoration

listening to him talk about his hyungs with a different kind of adoration but mushy feelings nonetheless

going out to eat and alternating between whose turn it is to pick the restaurant, he almost always wants to eat gopchang and you’re like bruh how much do you think i’m getting paid

always complains about how he doesn’t see you enough

“are you off tomorrow?”

“yeah, i’ll meet you for lunch”

“no, pack a bag and come over. we can stay up and play games”

playing video games with him and getting your ass kicked

watching him laugh his ass off as he stomps you into the ground

what a little shit

but it’s all worth it to see him smile

grudgingly watching anime with him

grudgingly watching him play overwatch and going “uh huh, uh huh” whenever he tries to explain the gameplay to you

likes to act cute to piss you off and you secretly like it but can’t show it bc he’s embarrassing and also bc he’s 183+cm like cut the cute act big boy, that image died years ago

holding three different conversations on text, snapchat, and kkt

conversations are 85% sass because someone’s gotta keep this kid in line

topics range from “what do you think about sexy policemen as our next concept” to “where do words go when you erase them”

eventually the sass turns into play-flirting and there’s suddenly this tension like am i going too far? am i being too suggestive?

and you’re in a weird place where you’re starting to fall for him and you don’t want to be cold but at the same time you don’t know if you should keep him so close anymore

one night he invites you over to his dorm after practice

hakyeon lets you in and tells you to keep the noise down, it’s 2am and everyone’s getting ready to go to sleep

hyog is standing at the stove putting ramen into two bowls, looking all soft in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants with a towel on his head and little bits of ruffled hair peeking out

you hop onto the counter as he passes you the bowl and chopsticks

“are you cooking for me? you’ll make a great housewife someday”

he snaps at your nose with his chopsticks before digging in

and you swear he finishes his bowl in about a minute even though it’s twice as big as yours

when eating with hyogi, sharing is a must so he starts picking at your bowl and it’s finished in another thirty seconds

after the two of you have stuck your bowls in the sink, he leans back against the counter and says, “since we’ve been friends for a while, i was thinking about changing your name in my phone, but i don’t know what to change it to”

you’re like really? you don’t have any ideas? at all?

and he says “not really…but i was thinking maybe…”

he looks nervous and you’re like hyuk? are you okay?

and he starts softly singing

“can i call you my own and can i call you my lover, call you my one and only…can i call you my everything…my baby”

he trails off and looks away

you grab his chin and turn his face back to yours

he puts his hand over yours and looks up hopefully at you through his lashes

“what do you say?”

“only if i can do the same”

“really?”

“yeah, stupid”

“can i kiss you?”

you can’t even reply before he’s leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours

the kiss is sweet and chaste and you certainly have NEVER imagined what his lips would feel like, but they’re soft and warm and a little oily from the ramen

he tastes like the soup too but hyuk is 75% junk food and snacks so it just makes the kiss more uniquely him

after a moment you pull away just enough to not be kissing him anymore

something moves in your peripherals and you look over to see hakyeon and taekwoon standing in the doorway

taekwoon huffs a soft “finally” before walking away

hakyeon comes over to hug the both of you, saying something like “my children have grown up” and hyuk grumbles under his breath

hakyeon says, “if the two of you ever need a shoulder to cry on or advice of an ADULT NATURE–”

“hyung!!”

hyuk ushers you to the door to get away from greasy hakyeon and gives you another kiss before you leave

he can’t stop smiling about it, even the next day, so the other three members wheedle it out of him and blow up your phone asking about it

not much changes after the two of you start dating

lots more spending time together on your days off (read: going out to eat before coming home to make out on the couch)

lots of fevered kisses and fumbling over clothes and jumping about ten feet into the air whenever someone walks by his room (hakyeon refuses to let hyuk close the door when you’re over)

taking lots of aesthetic couple photos on secret dates but not being able to post them

he’s surprisingly shy about suggesting new places to go on dates

handholding and other skinship, there’s rarely a moment when the two of you are together where he isn’t wrapped around you or touching you in some way

he gets jealous easily and usually holds it in well but if he really gets irritated, he’ll go out of his way to be mean to you bc he’s petty like that

and you’ll either smack him upside the head and tell him he’s being dumb or be mean back to him and then it turns ugly

most fights are like this, they’re small and revolve around the both of you being stupid and prideful but someone always backs down

he apologizes by buying you food or immediately coming over to spend time with you

he will send you lots of cute selfies if he’s too busy to facetime

(and the occasional dick pic)

seriously this kid is a tease…everything is a game of “how turned on can i get you and how scandalously can i touch you in public without getting caught”

and you’re like this is your first real relationship right??? right???????

sex happens about a year in, just because there isn’t really time for anything and then when there’s time, the both of you are exhausted and would rather nap together

but after walking in to see hyuk on top of you and your hands down each other’s pants too many times, the hyungs give him a box of condoms for christmas

hyuk thinks it’s a joke at first but they’re like no really

he tells you about it and you brush it off because there are more important things to worry about, like end-of-year stages

things start to die down after the new year begins, you stay in seoul and wander the streets at night while everyone goes back to visit their families

hyuk comes back early from daejeon and asks you to come sleep over since no one else is back yet

after watching six hour-long episodes of anime in a row, your eyes are burning so you ask hyuk to get you a sweatshirt while you take a break

as he’s sifting through his clothes, you wander into his room and find the condoms

he turns around to find you with the box in your hand and an uneasy look on your face

“you know i wasn’t kidding about those” he says, coming over and handing the sweatshirt to you

“yeah, now i know” you say

he takes the box from you and pretends to study it before asking, “so…do you maybe want to make good use of these?”

you stare up at him before saying, “god, do you even need to ask?”

and that’s all it takes before he’s kissing you and running his hands up and down your sides, tugging at your clothes and getting in your way as you try to take everything off

he pulls off his sweater and jeans and hops into bed with you, pulling the covers up over your bodies

and god if it isn’t the hottest thing when he slots his hips against yours and murmurs against your skin “i want to be inside of you”

it ends relatively quickly and hyuk goes a little pink, but he ducks under the covers and goes down on you until you’re barely able to breathe

about an hour later you’re in the kitchen getting water when hyuk comes up behind you and carries you back to the bedroom and you know what happens next

the next morning, the rest of vixx comes home and ravi screams when he opens the door to his (shared!!) room with hyuk and finds a combination of clothes and condom wrappers on the floor

along with hyuk’s naked ass, because you stole the covers in the middle of the night and he was too lazy to wrestle them back from you

jaehwan the shithead immediately comes over and starts taking pictures for blackmail and hyuk has to very grumpily roll out of bed and shove everyone out before locking the door

going public is relatively easy

he’s getting convenience store snacks late one night when a fan approaches him and makes conversation

unfortunately he says without thinking that he has to go because his baby is waiting for him

the fan says your name as a joke and he says “yeah. gotta go bye”

he gets into the car and is like “hey, guess what? i just told someone we were together” and you go WHaT DID YOU SAY HAN SANGHYUK

he goes home and writes a fancafe post about it so the fans don’t get toooo mad and you also do the same

there’s always backlash no matter what, there will always be critics, but that’s just because they’ll never know what it’s like to be with him and you don’t mind too much

for about a month afterwards every program he goes on asks about the relationship

he doesn’t mind really, it gets him more screen time than n and ken combined

which slightly irritates hakyeon bc I AM THE LEADER

the both of you guys are sneaky little shits and he’s smart as hell so the cameras still don’t get much dirt on the relationship

but now you can post the occasional picture that you take of hyuk/with hyuk on an outing and share it with the world :’)

one thing that really touches you is what hyuk says on a show when he’s randomly asked about the relationship

the host asks how the both of you met/got together and he talks about meeting you backstage, becoming friends since the both of you were close in age, and falling in love

“i realized i wanted to be more than friends when we were facetiming one night. i was in japan, and they were in busan. we both stayed up way too late to talk, even though we both had schedules the next morning. when they finally went to sleep, i laid there in the dark and thought about how good my life was. i’m doing what i love and i get to share my performances with people who support me, but all i could think about was how much i missed them and how i wanted to be there with them more than anything else at that moment. now we’re together, yes, but they’re also my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the one i can trust my entire self with. i’m grateful that they’re in my life and i hope we can grow together and be happy for a long time.”

#vixx #headcanons #vixx headcanons #vixx imagines #vixx reactions #vixx scenarios #vixx hyuk #hyuk #han sanghyuk

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riyuyami · 7 years ago

Text

I honestly wasn't expecting so much love and interest for this au! :o But thank you everyone!

Here's chapter two!

–

Sweet Home Domino

Chapter Two

–

After Atemu was finally able to snap out of his moment of blank, he and Yugi grabbed his luggage from the car and headed into the house.

The inside was rather large, but cluttered with bookshelves and decorations everywhere. Lots of historical and science scattered about the place, and it smelled like pasta sauce inside. Hm, must be a pasta dish for lunch.

“Come on, I'll show you my room! That's where you'll be staying.” Yugi smiled at him, heading for the staircase. Atemu gulped, nodding as he felt his cheek heat up again, wonder how long it would take before he was forever blushing cause of this guy he just met five minutes ago.

Quietly, Atemu followed Yugi up the stairs, passing by some doors until they came to a room at the end of the hall. “Here's my room.” Yugi opened the door, letting his guest in first.

It was a big room, but with little space due to all the stuff inside. The bed was large, a queen, there were two bookshelves, one filled with games and objects, the other had books, DVDs, and video games. There was a TV in a corner, with several game consuls, well... he continues to capture Atemu's heart with every little thing.

The walls had framed photos, and lots of posters for movies and Duel Monsters.

Atemu turned, looking at Yugi, blushing deeply. “You... like Duel Monsters?”

Yugi's cheeks turned pink and he laughed. “Uhh... yeah, I'm a big fan of games. I mean, my name is associated to games in Japanese, haha... but Duel Monsters is my favorite. I guess you like it?”

“Yeah! I enter local and state tournaments back in Washington!” Atemu grinned. “We should play some time, I brought some of my decks with me.”

“That's awesome.” Yugi looked so excited, oooh... he has such a cute smile when he's excited.

Fuck, shit, damnit, this crush just started and already it's getting out of control!

He's gonna have to talk to someone about this...

“Boys! Lunch is on!” Arthur yelled up the stairs and the two made their way down.

In the kitchen, Atemu found the last of the house members. At the stove, setting a hot pan down on top of it after pulling it from a stove, was a young girl. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a tight set of pigtails, and she turned to look at him with calculating green eyes behind a set of glasses.

The girl, Rebecca, looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, this must be Atemu Muran.” She said, in a way that made Atemu feel like she was insulting him.

“Yes, and you must be Rebecca Hawkins.”

“The one and only.” She looked smug. “I hope you like baked chicken Alfredo, since that's what I made for lunch!”

“You'll like it.” Yugi leaned over, whispering to the smaller of the two boys. “Rebecca is a really good cook.” He winked, before walking to the table.

Atemu blinked a few times, before inhaling deeply, tensing up. This boy was gonna fucking kill him before the day was done, he swore to God.

Quietly, Atemu took a seat, deciding not to sit next to Yugi, but next to Sugoroku, who smiled at him as Rebecca started serving the pasta. “So, Atemu, your uncle was just telling us that you just graduated high school.”

“Yeah, finally done with high school, and I'm happy for that. I'm already set up to attend college in Washington in August.”

“What are you going to major in?” Rebecca asked as she sat down.

Atemu gave a shrug. “I was looking into a history major or something, maybe see what I can do with that. Or pick up an archaeology degree.”

“Those sound like good majors.” Yugi turned, smiling at him. “I'm thinking about doing a business and design degree, I want to make games!”

“I-I bet you could make some really cool games, Yugi.” Atemu blushed, looking down at his plate, hearing a happy thank you from Yugi, but he didn't see the sharp look he got from Rebecca. “So, uh, did you just graduate as well? You look about my age.”

Yugi gave a nod, before taking a bite of his food. “Yeah, just this past Friday. I graduated as valedictorian, which was shocking cause I did so bad when I started high school. But I improved myself and rose to the top!”

“With my help.” Rebecca huffed. “I had to set you straight, Yugi! All those terrible grade, uhg, how embarrassing! You needed to get your head out of the clouds and back into your books. And not study with your friends.”

The orchid-eyed boy rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, but Joey was the one who always found some way to distract us, so don't blame me.”

“He's your best friend.”

“He's a great friend.” Yugi chuckled. “Oh, Atemu! When we get the chance, I'll have to introduce you to my friends, they'll love to meet you!”

The addressed boy looked up, blinking. “Y-your friends?” Oh, he didn't do well meeting new people, hell, he almost fainted when he spotted Yugi, how would he be around his friends? He'd probably end up making a total ass out of himself somehow. “I'd... love to meet them...!”

Well, might as well be nice and go along with this, don't want to come off as jerk, yeah?

Yugi grinned. “Awesome, I'll have to find a good day for us all to meet up! Oooh, maybe we can go swimming, it's gonna start warming up this week.”

“Which is good, since there are still clumps of icy snow off the sides of the roads here.” Siamun spoke up. “Saw some on the way to and from Billings today.”

The conversation went into the weather in the state, and Atemu took this as a chance to text his friends.

To Sage's Stone

Mana! Help! I'm having

a problem!

From Sage's Stone

Whats the problem bby

To Sage's Stone

Boys are hot and I'm

gayer than I originally

thought!

From Sage's Stone

Well no shit

To Sage's Stone

Mana, I need help,

I'm gonna be spending

all summer with a really

cute boy!

From Sage's Stone

How is this a problem

To Sage's Stone

Well, first off, he's

hot as hell. Second, he's, like,

my dream guy and everything

I'd ever wanna be

From Sage's Stone

Pic or ur lying

To Sage's Stone

I can't just take a picture!

We're eating lunch with the

other people here!

“Who are you texting, Atemu?”

Atemu jumped and shoved his phone into his pocket, looking over at Sugoroku. “O-oh! Just m-my friend, Mana. I was giving her updates about my trip. S-she wanted to now how things were going, yeah, you know, that stuff.”

“Ah, I get it.” He chuckled, returning to his food. Atemu let out a small sigh, looking at his phone to see a new message from Mana.

From Sage's Stone

Send 1 l8r <|;3

He rolled his eyes, putting his phone away, he'd deal with her later. He might have to talk to some of his other friends later, hopefully when he can get on his computer. Maybe they could be of more help, hopefully.

Well... maybe not Marik or Bakura, those guys are dicks. And Mahado is a stick in the mud, same with Rishid. Ishizu and Mai might be helpful, same with Jaden, Yusei is too much like Mahado though. Seto... okay, he's probably the worse one to talk to.

So it's down to Ishizu, Mai, and Jaden.

He'll bother them later, right now he needed to just... figure out what the hell he was gonna be doing to survive this summer.

“Hey, Atemu, want to help me do the dishes?” Yugi asked as he stood up with his dirty dishes.

Atemu just nodded, his face turning a bright red once more. Okay, more like he needed to survive today, he expected his death would be from blushing.

Uhg, this is like something out of a bad anime...

TBC

–

Sorry it's short, I'm still trying to figure everything out for this story.

I am open to suggestions and ideas! Just send me a message!

Mana's little <|;3 is a witch face she made, I figured she'd be the kinda person to do that.

Next chapter: Atemu attempts to survive the first night

#yugioh #puzzleshipping #sweet home domino #john's drabbles

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itispossibleihaveissues · 8 years ago

Text

This Night - Chapter 2

TITLE: This Night AUTHOR: Mikimoo RECIPIENT: tristen84 PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature WARNINGS: Off screen Non-Con, murder of innocent young people, violence SUMMARY: The Red Hood and Officer Grayson are on the same case. A small misstep has far reaching consequences for them both.

Chapter 1 is here

Fourteen hours later saw them scoping out the bunker holding Ruiz. Lying in the undergrowth and watching through night vision goggles they argued extensively about the best options to gain entry. Between them, they had eventually figured out the only possible way to infiltrate the building when they were low on pretty much everything, and one of them was running a fever and could barely walk.

But hey, they had faced worse odds. Apparently one year Dick had gone into Blackgate alone, while suffering from the flu and he had come out okay. Although he could actually walk unaided on that occasion, which had probably helped.

But they were committed to this madness, so they had to make sure they did everything right – there wasn’t going to be another chance.

The plan was pretty simple and involved relying on far more luck than Jason was comfortable with. Each of these outposts had a command center, a hub where all the surveillance equipment was. It could be manned by two to four people and from there, the guards and gang members could be directed toward any threat. If they could get Dick in there, he could guide Jason to Ruiz and simultaneously send the guards to the opposite side of the compound. Then Jason and Ruiz, who hopefully could walk under her own power, would fetch Dick and they would escape into the jungle. Simple.

If they survived that, then they would head for the rendezvous point, where maybe they would get picked up by a friendly Merc, or maybe get shot to death, depending.

Just to be clear, Jason hated this plan. Even though he had helped come up with it.

They intended to take the electrics out, using the dark to improve their chances. As Jason had lost his helmet and his mask to the gang, and his high spec night vision goggles to the river, they only had his lightweight emergency spare to work with. They both needed to have at least a little night vision for their separate tasks, so they carefully cut free one of the lenses for Dick, and Jason wore the other one as it was intended. Only using one eye to shoot was risky so he planned to use a flashlight where ever possible. They had rigged up the second lens for Dick using a combination of fast drying glue from Jason’s kit and the elastic from his boxers. Never let it be said they weren’t experts in improvisation. Dick seemed extremely amused to be wearing a part of Jason’s underwear on his head.

Jason would never understand that guy as long as he lived.

The first stage went surprisingly well, despite a minor spat on the merits of murdering the guards, versus just incapacitating them. Jason reluctantly capitulated to avoid stressing Dick out further, although his terms had rather a lot of scope – he promised he wouldn’t kill during this operation, unless it was necessary to save a life – that could give him a little wiggle room and left plenty of space for coming back and annihilating the whole fucking lot of them after he got Dick and Ruiz out safely.

They made the command center with little trouble – a fact that made Jason nervous; the theme for this whole mission had been that if it’s too easy, then disaster is sure to follow.

Mostly Jason was concerned about leaving Dick when he was barely mobile.

The infection, while having been slowed by the antibiotics was both painful and weakening - to the point where he could hardly go two paces without needing to lean on Jason. The added pressure on the wound from attempting to walk was causing enough discomfort that Dick was sweating profusely, his face set in a grimace.

But his options were to leave Dick, or try to carry him down the dark corridor to wherever they were keeping Ruiz, and that was not going to happen. It didn't mean he was happy about it though.

He adjusted his earpiece. At least they had comms. Who knows what they would have had to construct if they hadn’t?

“Dickie-Bird to Jay-Bird,” Dick said over the line. “Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, asshole. Now shut up,” Jason muttered, making his way carefully down the dark passageway.

Dick directed him, using the plans he had on the tablet, and the security cameras. There were a few tense moments when Jason had to crouch down and stay silent as guards ran past – directed towards a fake disturbance elsewhere – but otherwise the plan went smoothly.

There were two guards on the door to the cell they hoped Ruiz was being held in, and Jason thought he did an admirable job of not killing them. Although he hit them hard enough to cause permanent brain damage, Dick didn't say anything over the comm line – maybe he didn't realize, or maybe he didn't care. Jason wasn't sure which option he preferred.

“I opened the electronic lock,” Dick said, over the line. “You just have to pick the regular one.”

Jason examined it closely. It was sturdy, but he had picked worse locks when he was barely out of kindergarten.

“Once you're inside I won't have a visual, so keep me in the loop, OK?”

“Yes, boss.” Jason muttered back, as he slid his second pic into place. “It’s not like I haven't done this before, you know.”

“Well normally I get to be there, not stuck in a dark room with computers and trash everywhere. Although this swivel chair is super nice, a proper ergonomic office chair like the ones Tim ordered when he was playing CEO at Wayne Enterprises.”

“I know you like to flap your mouth when you’re feeling anxious, but some of us are concentrating.”

“Whatever. You can pick locks in your sleep, you're just being difficult. Do you think they ordered this chair in specially? Like, does one of the bad guys have a bad back or carpal tunnel or something, so needed some extra support?”

Jason ignored him, although he could feel his face trying to smile. He ruthlessly tried to stop it though, he had to at least pretend to still have some dignity.

“Do you think they ordered it from Ikea or somewhere? Or is there a special store for criminal underground bases -”

“I'm in,” Jason interrupted, and Dick fell silent. Jason realized he was probably worried about what Jason might find behind that door. Was Ruiz alive? Had she been tortured? Was she mobile? Their chances of escaping this place fell dramatically if she wasn't. “I'll bring her out,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

He opened the door slowly. The room was dark, but the light from his torch illuminated a similar set up to Dick's cell. A broken chair was propped against one wall and a mattress lay on the floor. Cuffs hung from the wall and Jason's senses pinged with alarm before he even finished registering something wasn't right.

He dodged down and away as he sensed movement to his left and narrowly missed being brained by a chair leg. Ruiz swung again, and he caught the blow on his upraised arm. The impact made him stumble and drop his flashlight, but he managed to catch her before she could go for his face again.

“Ruiz, stop! It's Grayson's PI friend, I've come to get you out!”

She stopped struggling but he could feel her muscles still tense and ready to fight. He moved them slightly, so the light from his fallen torch caught his features.

Her breathing was harsh in the sudden quiet. “What’s you name?” she asked, finally.

“Jason. I'm going to let you go - don't clobber me.” He stepped back, and she moved away, chair leg still upraised, clutched in her hand. Her knuckles were bruised; this wasn't the first time she had tried to fight her way out.

They looked at each other for a moment, her assessing him; searching his face and quickly skimming over his weird get up – the patchwork of weapons and gear he had on was definitely not the same as the guards and gang members in this place, who appeared to be something of a paramilitary unit.

In turn he gave her a quick visual check for injuries and obvious signs of drugs. She seemed mobile and her eyes were clear so it appeared they hadn't bothered to incapacitate her like they had Dick. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“Why did you come back for me?” She asked, suddenly. “Where's Grayson? He was shot.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s alright, for now.” The comms were open, and Jason could hear Dick's breathing in his ear, a little fast with relief, a little heavy with pain, but still strong and comforting. “I got him out first, then we came back for you,” Jason added, when she still looked skeptical.

“We? Even though he got shot?”

“Yeah, he's an idiot that way.”

She nodded and rolled her eyes. It was a very: 'I have had to work with Dick Grayson and he's a moron' expression. Dick seemed to cause a similar series of facial tics and eye rolls where ever he had to spend time with people in a professional capacity. It was weirdly endearing.

“You have a gun?” Ruiz asked, all business now.

“I got three.”

“Give me one.” She held out a hand. Her short fingernails were torn and bloody, and although he wasn't sure if that had happened when she attacked a person or liberated the chair leg, Jason was pretty certain her opponent had come off worse.

“You going to shoot me with it?” he asked. She didn't know him from Adam, and if he had been in her situation, he would be pretty cautious and a little trigger happy.

“Don't be a fool,” she said, “I could never escape without help. And I'm not going to shoot my rescuer, it’s bad manners.”

Jason grinned and handed her his Ruger. He liked Ruiz, and the competent way she checked the gun over gave him confidence that she would provide decent back up for getting Dick out of this place safely.

Apparently finding the gun to her liking, she dropped the chair leg. Jason winced at the hollow echoing sound it made when it hit the stone floor.

“What was that?” Dick asked in his ear.

“Chair leg. We're heading back your way. We clear?”

“Yeah, for now. You might want to avoid the southwest corridor and take the longer route – there's a lot less activity in that direction.”

“Understood,” Jason glanced at Ruiz who was looking at him steadily.

“That Grayson?” she asked.

“Yeah, he’s giving us directions.”

Ruiz nodded. “Where are we going?” She asked quietly, as they slipped back into the dark corridor.

“We're heading towards the central command center to pick up Grayson. He's not especially mobile so we may have to do that literally.”

“Wonderful,” Ruiz said, and Jason smothered another grin, he could actually hear her eyes roll.

Their plan had been working beautifully. With Dick directing both the guards and Jason, they had avoided any confrontation. However their luck couldn't last. Because the universe just couldn't let him catch a fucking break.

As they turned the corner, the lights flickered on. Someone must have activated a backup generator not attached to the mains.

“Houston, we have a problem,” Dick said.

Jason growled in response. They were so damn close. And this was supposed to be the easy bit.

“The bad guys have caught on. You have three heading towards you from the northeast and another three already in front of you.”

“They know where we are?” Jason asked, signaling Ruiz to pause. She did so, looking grim and determined.

“Not yet.” Dick's voice was a little strained and there were clattering noises in the background.

“Dick, talk to me. What's happening?”

“They know they've been compromised. They have the command center surrounded, and are switching off my electrics one by one.”

“Fuck!”

“Stop yelling in my ear!” Dick complained. “I may not be able to do any wild acrobatics, but I can deal with this. However, I've already lost my visual of you. You're on your own.”

“Dick, you have a gun, for fuck sake, use it if you have too.”

“Jason-”

“No, Dick. I know you can - you shot me pretty good after all.”

“Yeah sorry about that. Look, I'll use all the tools I have, Jay. Head for the exit, I'll catch you up.”

Like hell that was happening. “Not a chance, Flyboy.”

“Working with you is so annoying!” Dick had the nerve to sound exasperated.

Jason wanted to punch him. “Working with me is annoying? Me? What about you?” He was aware his voice was rising, and had to consciously rein it in a bit.

“Can you please have this domestic another time?” Ruiz interjected, scowling at him in bemusement.

Jason ignored her. “We're coming to get you, and that's final!” he said, trying to keep his voice low.

“Jason, don't be such a stubborn -” And then there was nothing but static.

“Dick?” Jason's heart was pounding. He couldn't cope with going through this again so soon after the last time. His stress levels were through the damn roof. “Dick!” He wasn't really expecting an answer but the silence still felt raw and bitter. “We lost contact,” he told Ruiz, gruffly.

“I heard. We going to go rescue him?” Ruiz asked. She looked scared and angry, and like she'd had more than enough of this shit.

“We're going to try.” More rescues. How many were there going to be, before there was an end to this?

Ruiz nodded and fell into step behind him.

#Jason Todd #dick grayson #jaydick #if you squint #mik trys to write stuff #My fic #My writing #this night

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