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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year

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Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 19 - You'll be the promise, I'll be the scream

Masterlist; Chapter 18 Summary: The aftermath of Riddler's words. You're forced to face the fears and talk to Bruce. Neither of those is an easy feat... Warnings: 18+; tones of angst, R's internal crisis and... them smuts ✨ Author's Notes: Woo, she made it! Incredible! Outstanding achievement. Seriously, though, I know it's been a while. To compensate - this one is long. Like 10.7k long. And it's also explicit bc them idiots needed tension release of the traditional kind :))))) It's probably only one chapter and epilogue left now so... getting emotional. A little bit. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now... buckle up, 'kay? You're gonna needed. (I know they're idiots). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @makoto-shinkai)

Returning to the Wayne Tower from Arkham felt like a fevered dream. You could barely remember how you got there from the street by your house where you had directed Gordon to drop you off. Only that no matter the distance from the prison, your heart did not get any lighter.

Riddler’s words still rang out loud and clear in your head, slowly driving you crazy. The tower was blessedly quiet and empty when you reached the study and collapsed into the armchair. One look at the phone screen and a quick read of the only text that awaited you confirmed the expected – Bruce was already out and would be back later. Probably much later. Which was good. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by someone you could not lie to. All hopes shattered when Dory walked into the room not a quarter of an hour later.

It was easy to pretend then, quickly falling back into the role you knew well. You smiled when appropriate, forced down a meal that could not be contested and produced a lie that worked in your favour. Dory had no clue. It did not matter that your heart was breaking beneath the performance. You were stellar, as always.

It was a relief to have her retire to her room not long after you finished eating. You were finally alone. It was a no-brainer to turn down all the unnecessary lights and carry your stuff to your bedroom, closing the door behind your back. You got as far as sitting down at the foot of the bed when your brain caught up. The memories came rushing in, Riddler’s voice as clear as in that cell, taunting you just like he did. What if he was right? What if your father was a monster, and you were following in his footsteps? There were no answers. Frantic brain kept running through all the pieces you had ever written, quickly finding those Nashton could have meant. The times when you were relentless, pushed too far. The times when you should have stopped. The solution was simple – he was right.

The steady stream of tears rushed down your cheeks, smudging the mascara you had recklessly put on in the morning as you lied down on the covers and curled up. The weight on your chest was not going anywhere, making it hard to breathe. Near impossible to leave the spiral once you got absorbed in it. An endless onslaught of self-hatred poured out along with the quiet sobs that wrecked your frame. Each thought felt like your heart being ripped out, piece by piece. The smithereens bled onto the duvet as your mind circled back, time and time again, to that one idea.

The worst one of them all. The fear that you would hurt Bruce. That it was all you were capable of doing, destroying what you held dear. Perhaps it had already happened; the guillotine was let loose. About to slash your neck, once and for all. Maybe it would’ve been for the best.

After a while, the tears had dried out, the parched throat begging for a glass of water. But you did not want to move. Did not seem to have the strength to do so. Slowly, you raised your head enough to see the inky skies outside, for once free from rain clouds. The moon peered shyly into the room, painting the floor silver. The thoughts were still there. The pain had not left.

You were almost close to dozing off from exhaustion when faint creaks of the floorboards in the corridor outside made you open your eyes. Someone stopped right by your door, hesitating. Somehow, you knew who it was before they decided and pressed the handle. For a split second, you mourned that you had left the door unlocked. Then Bruce stepped inside, and all you could do was close your eyes against the sudden pinprick of pain in your chest. The silence was deafening. Almost enough to make you speak and answer the thousands of questions he seemed to have. You never got quite that far.

As if reading your mind, Bruce closed the door behind his back and slowly approached the bed. His body was tense, uncertainty visible in every move. You could only imagine what he saw when he came closer. You did not dare to move, passively staring at his approaching form until Bruce stopped two feet away from the bed and raised his head. Enough so you could see his expression. The haunting blue eyes were now flooded with concern and fear. Before you could dwell on what you saw, Bruce spoke:

“What happened?” his husky tone dripped with worry, making you wince from the sound alone.

But you did not feel like giving in to him just yet.

“You could’ve knocked, you know” aware of the tear tracks tainted with ink from the mascara on your cheeks, you did your best to glower at him.

Judging by the defeated look you got back, it was a futile attempt. Bruce took another step closer, visibly pondering whether he should sit next to your slumped form.

“Come on, don’t give me that. What happened?” his tone softened a notch, enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

And to make you sit up, silently offering space should he want it. Training your mind on the floor, you whispered:

“I met him” you could hear the unspoken question in the heavy silence, forcing you to add, quieter still, “Riddler,”

Bruce gasped as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“What? Why?” the disbelief in his voice made you look up.

Seeing the horror on his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing. It was enough to make shame bloom in the pit of your stomach, yet again making you wish you could disappear. But there was no divine intervention. No opening pit in the ground or a merciful hand to end it for you. As if subconsciously wanting to make the pain worse, you forced yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke:

“Because I wanted to. I was curious, so I asked Gordon to take me to him after the witness statement” as soon as the words were out, you could feel the tears welling up.

Because hearing it said like that spoke volumes about your idiocy. How it all could have been avoided if not for your lack of logic. It was not surprising to hear Bruce groan in response,

“Jesus Christ,” a muttered curse dropped from his lips as he covered his face with his hands for a beat, then raised it to fix you with a glare, “Why did you-”

Somehow you knew what was coming. And that you would not survive it if Bruce scolded you, pointing out all the ways you had fucked up and the reasons why you could never be enough. For him or anybody else. So, you interjected his incoming rant with the wavering voice:

“Please, don’t. I know it was stupid, and it definitely taught me a lesson” it was impossible to hide the pain from your tone, keen on getting the message, “So if you’re going to berate me, I’d rather you left” what was supposed to be a stern warning, never got that far.

Instead, the condition sounded weak, like a thinly veiled plea for mercy. And it was not wrong. To your immense surprise, it worked. Bruce visibly winced as his words seemed to catch up with him.

“God, no. I’m sorry” seeing immediate contrition felt good enough for you to nod your head in agreement to his silent question, allowing Bruce to sit down and finish the thought, “I just… What did he say to you?” he kept his distance yet the softness in his voice felt like a reassuring hand-squeeze.

You glanced at him, hoping to convey the gratitude. But even that was not enough to make you eager to tell the tale.

“Many, many things” a choice for the moment was a tentative opening.

A quick attempt at dodging the question if Bruce allowed you.

“I’ve got time,” he didn’t; leaning back a fraction to appear at ease.

To highlight that he wanted to hear it, that he had nothing else to do but listen to your sob story of naivety and stupid decisions. From the look in his eyes, you could tell you had no other choice. Letting out a sigh as a preamble, you shifted your gaze back onto the floor. You could already feel the familiar burn of tears.

“Um… in a nutshell, my father was a monster directly responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m exactly the same, devoted to the job so much that nothing else matters” you heard Bruce’s sharp breath intake but did not grant yourself the right to look at him, “He asked when am I going to destroy you and finish what my father started” the wobbling voice cracked as new tears streamed down your cheeks again, ever so eager to make an appearance; they forced out the most vulnerable of confessions you could give him then “The worst part is that I think he’s right” there it is, as always.

Without giving you time to dissolve into sobs that choked up your throat, Bruce moved, his careful fingers lifting your chin so he could lock his eyes with yours. There was no escape from his knowing stare as he delicately swept his thumb over your tear-streaked cheeks before dipping lower to trace your cupid’s bow. Unable to hold his tender gaze, you closed your eyes.

“He’s not,” the gentle whisper was filled with conviction.

But it was not enough to convince you. Not quite enough to stop the vicious thoughts.

“But-” your protest got silenced before you could get a word out.

As if knowing what you needed, Bruce leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before squeezing your hand with his unoccupied palm. Reluctantly you opened your eyes, realising the intended effect. He had your full attention.

“Listen to me. The point of that conversation was to rile you up. To make you believe those things and go insane because of them,” his firm tone captured your mind, as did the heat in his eyes, betraying the anger Bruce felt on your behalf, “He loved every second because this is what he does. He gets under your skin, feeds on guilt and insecurities and amplifies them” tangling his fingers with yours in what felt like second nature, Bruce allowed the passion give way to fondness, strengthening the message “But the main point is that it was all bullshit” on its own accord, your mouth twisted into a weak smile, triggered by something as unusual as hearing him curse “Nothing else” he finished the speech with another hand squeeze as he raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

The gesture, along with everything he said, made your head spin. The logical part of your brain knew Bruce was right. But it was a small fraction of an overall emotional consciousness, which would not be settled quite so easily. You hoped that perhaps the longer you stared into his eyes, the more convinced you would become.

Leaning into his palm that still cupped your cheek, you whispered a question:

“How can you be so sure?” one that you were scared to ask but still needed to know.

To understand what it was that Bruce saw, that you were blind to. Why he trusted you when he should not?

“Because I know you,” his confidence did not waver as he offered the response without hesitancy, “I know that you care about everyone around you, that you would do anything for those you hold dear. And that, above all, you’re a good person” Bruce concluded his speech with another kiss on your forehead, a rare sure smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

At once, the vicious voices in your head grew silent, emptying the space of all that was not affection and gratitude. Even if just for a moment. The prickling tears were not going anywhere as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Bruce’s hand clasping yours. For the first time during that long day, you felt the stifling weight lift off your chest.

“Shit, you’re going to make me cry, sweetheart” cracking a weak joke, you risked a glance at his reaction following the nickname.

Bruce grinned, no longer pretending to mask the fondness with an eye roll. Even with the haze of tiredness quickly descending over your head, you greatly appreciated the change. Enough so to creep a little closer still and lean your head on his shoulder, covertly inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, expensive cologne and dampness of the terminus. A strange concoction that already felt like home, although you would never admit it.

“I mean it, though” Bruce gently rested his head on top of yours, cementing the sentiment and leaving another rush of warmth burning in your chest.

It was hard to fill the silence with anything else. Save maybe for the things you couldn’t say. After a beat, you found the safest question and gave it a voice:

“How- Um… How was your day?” the pathetic quiver shook your vocal cords.

Before you could give yourself a moment to marinate in shame while listening to his answer, Bruce carefully extracted himself from your embrace and stood up. Upon your questioning look, he murmured:

“One sec” already moving towards the ensuite, he kept speaking, “Selina asked to meet up with me, so I went to see her… She’s left the city, actually” you stared as Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, clutching a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

It took another three seconds for his words to sink in and for you to understand them. What it meant and how it made you feel. Strange. Conflicted. Fucking confused, among others. The attempts at words got stuck in your throat when Bruce sat next to you on the duvet and wordlessly prepared the make-up remover, waiting for you to tip your chin forward. Your body moved before you told it to, closing the gap yet again. He did not hesitate before leaning in to begin wiping off the mess from your face with a look of pure concentration.

It felt strange to be under his scrutiny, mindful of all the different issues you could catalogue on your face. Of all the ways Bruce could find you lacking. Not enough compared with someone like her.

“Oh… okay,” remembering that it was your turn to speak, you blurted out the only question you desperately needed to be answered, “You didn’t want to go with her?”

There. Your heart lying in his open palm, ready to be crushed. Not for the first time since you had met.

Bruce took his time, meticulously wiping off the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes, his gaze never straying from your face. You did not dare think about what he must have seen there.

“No, of course not” cutting through the uncertainty, Bruce offered a reply that gave no room for interpretation, at once meeting your worried look with a ready explanation, “I spent too much time fighting for Gotham just to leave it on a whim” he swallowed hard as if finally caught by the doubts, clearly debating whether what he wanted to say next should be spoken; then, he made up his mind “Plus, it was never like that between us” the meaningful look was impossible to miss, as was the unspoken implication of what he meant; the combination was enough to fortify the blush on your cheeks “She’s glad you’re fine after what happened. And that you’re staying too,”

The final comment was another surprise, spiking your heart rate to a faster beat. Because it suggested one thing you did not consider – Bruce talked with Selina about you. That you were important enough to be a conversation topic. Selina took her time to think about what she witnessed.

And that Bruce wasn’t going to leave. You still had time, for better or worse. Using the tidbit of information as your needed courage inspiration, you reached your hand to his, curling your fingers around his wrist. Just to keep him close.

“Are you? Happy I’m staying?” the thin band of skin-to-skin contact offered the push you needed to ask what you wanted.

The second most important matter after Bruce staying in Gotham.

Bruce used the final clean cotton wipe to erase the dried-up coats of foundation from the bridge of your nose and lowered his hands, freeing your face. His blue eyes stayed right where they were, sometimes meeting yours, at other times fixed on your mouth. Enough so to wreak havoc in your head and heart. At last, Bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, his other hand coming down to cover yours, still encircling his wrist. The light pressure of his touch was enough to ground you, making the wait for his answer seem bearable.

“More than I know how to express” even with the anticipation, his reply took you by surprise, making you gasp as you were suddenly too bashful to look him in the eye; and for a good reason, “The meeting with Selina made me think about some things and…” you glanced up, the breath caught in your throat as you watched Bruce ponder something again; it was impossible to tell where it was leading “Before you, I was never brave enough to want. The feeling was there, the desires and the needs, but I never gave in to them. Slowly, I learnt how to repress it and shove it so far down that I almost thought I’m resistant” oh; your head flew back up fast enough to make your spine crack, head unable to comprehend the meaning without getting overwhelmed, only to find Bruce staring right back; his blue eyes sure and firm in their unwavering belief “Then you happened” oh.

The confession felt important. Crucial in its significance, like nothing else before it. Tangible like the pressure of his hand over yours and the heat of his body across the narrow space. Terrifying like the depths of feelings in your heart and head. You did not know what made him say it. Caught speechless by the admission, you could only whisper:

“Sorry,” shyly biting into your lower lip until Bruce tugged it free.

Your tender skin was burning from his touch. Thousand more apologies for turning his life on its head died on your tongue as you felt the familiar tension rise. Suddenly it was hard to find reasons why you should not close that gap. Why you should not keep touching him, giving whatever he wanted from you. The resolution was waiting in the wings for you to take the plunge whenever you were ready.

“I never said it’s a bad thing” Bruce’s smile only brightened as he brushed away your foolish apology while his fingers drifted downwards to trail over the skin of your neck, “Just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop myself from reaching for what I want” there was an implication in his voice, a pointer towards what he was too scared to say.

Perhaps the heat of his touch sparking the fire in your veins made you decide. Reach for the opening he created and take what he was offering. It was not difficult to breach the gap and take hold of his hand to drag it down, pressing his palm to your chest, right over the heart. Taking pleasure in the hungry look in his eyes, you leaned in close to whisper:

“You don’t have to stop” keeping your gaze locked onto his mouth, you added, “Not with me” then, with the both of you suspended millimetres away from the kiss that you could already feel, you posed the question, “What do you want, Bruce?”

Hoping he would get the message that whatever was about to happen had to be his request. Only then could you let go of the uncertainty and fear ruling your head. The heart was kept hostage. Bruce let out a shuddered breath, fanning your parted lips with a wisp of air. His nose nudged yours as he struggled to look you in the eye before replying:

“You” his free hand wandered down to touch your hip as Bruce leaned against you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress, “Everything. I-”

Too scared to let him speak, you closed his mouth with a kiss, finally closing the gap. Releasing your heart from the captivity of the mind. Sealing your fate with a careful caress of your lips over his. Taking Bruce’s broken gasp and pulling him further into the embrace so that he had no choice but to surrender. Cover your body with his, enveloping your shaking bones with the warmth you have craved. That kiss was meant to be slow and direct in its meaning. You knew he understood when you broke the contact with a quiet whimper, your eyes roaming over his stunned features. The blown-out pupils and reddened lips drew your attention like magnets and made it so much easier to find the necessary words:

“You can have everything,” swallowing past the unspeakable, you met his gaze with vulnerability, “Please,” now there was nothing to hide.

He had it all, waiting for his move. The troubled blue eyes searched yours for a beat as if looking for uncertainty he expected to follow your admission.

“Are- are you sure?” the hesitant question confirmed your suspicions but was contested by his seemingly unconscious touch.

Fingers running down the slope of your thigh, now hitched over his hip to keep him in place. Adding fuel to the fire and distracting your mind from anything else but Bruce. Even with the fog steadily rising, his question was ridiculous. Without wasting time speaking, you used the empty hand to grab his shirt and pull him down to meet your lips. Again.

Only, this time, you did not idle, instantly opening your mouth and prodding his open with your curious tongue. Swiping against his tongue in a well-practised dance, exploring the inside of his mouth. All the moves were familiar; all elicited a gasp, a tightening hand touching your hip. All increased the temperature till all you wanted to do was make sure Bruce took off his clothes soon. So you could touch him how you wanted to.

Motivated by the thought, you broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to huff out a question:

“Was that good enough for you?” making sure to throw a cheeky smile, you admired the blush blooming upon his cheeks.

The kiss did what you needed it to. Bruce smiled back, the last tint of uncertainty vanishing from his face as you cupped his cheek. Fingertips tracing the sharp cheekbones and the fading bruises. He was beautiful. A fact that still sometimes astonished you after years of hearing about Bruce Wayne and seeing grainy photographs in the paper and online. Along with the idea that one day you would be this close to him. Close enough to touch and tear your heart apart in the process.

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened to steal the moment from your hands, you swept your thumb over Bruce’s bottom lip. Drawing both of you back in. Shaking himself awake, Bruce’s hand ventured up from your hip to trace the hem of your shirt and then dove underneath. Warm fingers skating over your skin, helping the chills settle in and raise the goosebumps. His attentive eyes watched you, noticing every shiver you tried to fight off. Pondering the mystery of what was going to happen next. One thing was clear – this time Bruce had it all figured out. He knew exactly how to get you to the edge of insanity. And then beyond.

Once he leaned in, slowly making his path from the corner of your mouth to your neck with pecks, you knew it was over. With each carefully laid peck, your body trembled. Each ignited a fire in your veins only Bruce could smother. Your hand tightened its hold over his shoulder; legs immediately accommodated to fit his body in the cradle of your thighs. Heart hammering between your ribs, begging to be listened to. To keep him like this forever.

Nosing at your pulse point, Bruce licked the spot, making your hips buck to meet his as if on autopilot. Making you gasp and mutter a curse that never quite got its voice. Only for him to sink his teeth in a shallow bite. Enough for your body to jerk upright, a pathetic breathless moan slipping through the gritted teeth. Enough for you to dig your nails into his arm and bunch up the shirt to find his bare skin. Trace the scars and the outline of muscles. You already felt like you were losing your mind. As if summoned by your hazy thoughts, Bruce concluded his exploration with a final teasing kiss over your collarbone and raised his head to ask:

“Can I?” the enigmatic question was easily explained by his tentative hand tracing the hem of your shirt.

Asking to give him what was already his. You appreciated the thoughtfulness. But there was one condition you had to voice before you gave in.

“Only if you take this off too” tugging at his t-shirt, you whispered out the pitiful wish, “I really want to touch you” a wave of shame threatened to rise, but it never got anywhere.

Not with the way Bruce looked at you after the admission. His lips stretched into a soft smile. Eyes awed and sparkling like rarely before. As if what you said was something he had been aching to hear.

Without another word, Bruce kissed your forehead before getting up on his knees to pull off the shirt in one move. You never saw quite where he threw the clothing. It did not matter that you already saw him like this many times before. Nor that now, after the few harrowing days, his torso was littered with an array of bruises and cuts. Your hand darted out as if controlled with a mind of its own, only just managing to graze the skin of his abdomen. The dark hair trail disappearing into the waistline of his trousers drew your attention like it always did. A simple touch earned you a full-body shiver quickly masked with an outstretched hand, inviting you to join him.

You did not waste a second to get up on your knees and close that awful gap. To meet Bruce’s gaze with bravery you did not feel and take off your shirt. Feeling the drafty air over your naked skin, you moved to cover up, but he stopped you with a firm grip on the forearm. Blue eyes locked stares with yours, ceasing all the chatter running through your brain. Till it was just Bruce. His reassuring touch, running up your arms to trace the bra straps and a silent question you knew he was asking. With the staccato in your chest, you nodded. Just once. Already feeling the rush of blood to your head. It all felt different. More profound. As if every action mattered.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Despite the ridiculous fears, you nodded and watched with bated breath as Bruce carefully lowered both straps and reached around your back to undo the clasp. Another rush of cold air could be only partially blamed for the shiver that wrecked your frame when the bra slipped down. Leaving your torso bare under Bruce’s watchful gaze. His fingertips skated over your tender skin, slowly circling the dark pink areolas and making you gasp. But it was not enough to shut up the brain. Your hand darted out to stop his meticulous study with a grasp around the wrist. His head snapped back up. An instant crease between the eyebrows brought a flush of softness to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s question made you wince.

You could not tell him. Couldn’t-

“Nothing,” the reply was automatic, your tongue falling into the familiar pattern to make up the word, hoping it would be enough to fool him. It wasn’t. You knew it as soon as you saw his brow twitch with disbelief, soothing circles traced into your upper arm acting as a further reason to let it all spill out, “I’m just… feeling weirdly shy, I guess” it was hard to meet his eyes.

Yet the crux of the issue had been laid out. It fell between you, disappearing into the weighted silence. You knew it made no sense. That Bruce had already seen you. Hell, he’s seen so much more. Still. The head did not want to listen to reason. The once hopeful dreams of getting lost in him tonight already seemed improbable. Because how does one get lost when the head and the heart are still in it?

“Why?” another question brought your back to the scene, his measured voice quickly becoming the lifeline you needed.

The string pulling you back from the spiral and forcing you to talk how you probably should have at the beginning. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw the depth of understanding in his gaze. And no judgement or ire. Almost as if, for Bruce, nothing would change no matter what you said next. Almost as if- No. He’d never. You ignored the idea before it could spread like a disease. Instead, you steeled your spine and gathered the courage to answer his question. To reveal a fraction of the truth, as he deserved.

“Because it matters how you see me” your eyes turned glossy as they focused on his face.

It was more than accurate. An admission long overdue. Somehow you could tell Bruce knew that. His hands cupped your face between his palms in a tender hold. Thumbs softly stroke your cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before speaking:

“Then there’s no need to worry” his nose brushed against yours in a gentle caress, letting the whisper carry his words through the narrow space between you, “You’re perfect” his gaze flickered from your eyes to your mouth, but it was easy to miss.

Christ. You wanted to say something else. To protest, ask him how he can tell when you are the only woman he has ever been with. But it would not do. Your heart would never let you. No, it already took the compliment and ran with it, thrashing in your chest like a caged bird. There was nothing you could do.

Nothing, but throw your arms around his neck and dive in for a kiss. Bruce was waiting for you, opening his mouth under yours as soon as you pressed your lips against his. Not willing to waste time already running out, you let your tongue dart out. Swirling it around his and then sucking, enough to make him gasp and pull you closer. His arms enveloped your body, somehow making everything seem fine. Complete, even. You kissed him till there was barely any oxygen left, and you had to separate, eagerly exchanging pecks as you both caught your breath. His taste had filled your mouth, getting rid of the salty tint of tears and the bitterness of coffee. Everything was just Bruce. Like always.

Without thinking, you lowered your head to press another kiss to his chin and then below, tracing the slope of his throat with careful pecks. Bruce’s grip tightened over your waist as a broken groan reverberated through his chest. You could almost feel the sound in your bones. The thought rushed through your body like a bolt of lightning, venturing down between your thighs to a spot you had tried your hardest to ignore. But no longer could. Your core throbbed with the persistent desire as wetness spilt onto the gusset of your panties. You did not have to search your heart to know what you wanted.

That need made you bold enough to swipe your tongue in a broad stroke over Bruce’s throat. Collecting the low moan, he let out with satisfaction. As you sunk your teeth into a shallow bite over his pulse point, the feeling grew tenfold inspired by the noises that Bruce could not to stop. As if you were driving him insane. Leaning back to study your work, you knew the mark on his skin would stay. That it would be something he could remember you by, no matter what came after.

Before you could dive back in to continue, Bruce hooked his fingers under your chin to gently make you raise your head and look at him. So you could see the flushed cheeks and swollen lips parted to let out strained breaths. Following a will of their own, your eyes flicked to his waist and then below, checking whether he was just as affected as you were. What you found only made the frenzy worse. As did his words, accompanied by deliberate touch running along the waistline of your trousers:

“I want to taste you,” Bruce leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

But you hardly registered it, brain caught up on what he said. Because that… that was quite something. Something you never expected to hear from him. The surprise must have painted across your face, your gaping mouth left open and eyes staring at him for too long. Until your brain thawed enough for you to speak (or stutter):

“Christ… Bruce, you can’t say things like- Okay, yeah” the string of words made only a little sense, but you compensated with a stupid grin and a hasty nod; the anticipatory shiver already coursing through your body as you met his gaze to add, “A sensible lady never says no that” your lips curled into a smirk, gleefully taking note of his mirroring smile, only then it was time for a check in “Do you really want to?” your hand run up his chest to curl around his shoulder.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the promise of what he offered. But you could not just let him do it. That would have been too selfish. Even if Bruce seemed pretty convinced. The hunger in his eyes stole your breath as he took your verbal consent and hooked his fingers under the waistline of your trousers. Never straying from your gaze, he gave the reply:

“Yes,” his new confidence could easily be your outdoing.

But it could have also been the unceremonial way he pushed you down onto the bed, your body hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. A confirmation enough for the last of your worries.

“Okay,” a nervous giggle broke out from your chest as you watched him lean over you, those blue eyes darker than usual “Blow my mind, sweetheart” there were no doubts in your mind that he was capable.

It was proven as soon as Bruce finished undressing you, the quick work perfected with his lingering touch had you breathing shallowly. The feeling grew once you were lying naked before him, with nothing but the soaked panties to save you from his intense gaze. From the heat of his eyes, caressing what was already familiar. Tracing the paths his hands would soon follow. Unable to withstand the scrutiny much longer, you reached up to get him close, capturing his mouth with a kiss Bruce had long anticipated. He opened his lips underneath yours without a second wasted while letting his hands venture down your stomach, short fingernails emblazoning your tender skin. Before you knew it, he had tugged down your underwear, leaving you bare. The strange shyness had breached the surface again as you broke the kiss with a gasp and met his gaze with wide eyes. Silently asking for mercy.

One quick kiss and a nod had to be enough for you as Bruce gave your nose a playful nudge, his hand delving between your thighs without another warning. Your body shuddered upon his touch, cheeks turning scarlet once you realised how wet you were. Bruce’s surprise was evident in the slight hitch in his breathing, almost disguised by an inhale.

Your slick covered his fingers to the knuckles as he meticulously learnt to play you how you needed. At first, only stroking your clit with a feather-like touch, then circling your entrance, spreading your arousal, and making your thighs shake. It was already bad. And it could only get worse. For your dignity, that is. Sweat pearled on your forehead as you watched Bruce lower himself down your body, placing pecks along your abdomen. He settled between your thighs, the muscles on his back flexing under the skin in the faint light of the bedroom. As if unconsciously acting on his instincts, Bruce pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh, quickly following it with another one on the right thigh. Both kisses burned your skin like a hot poker. The sensation culminated in the apex of your thighs, in the frustrating throbbing you could hardly ignore anymore. But you did not have to.

Bruce met your gaze, seeking consent for the final time. With no words found, save for the ones you could never tell out loud, you nodded, impatiently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You wanted to see him. That first glimpse of Bruce diving between your legs with his head bowed was reason enough. As was the way his hands curled around your thighs, keeping them apart and spread. Leaving you exposed and shaking with want. All the faintest doubts disappeared when his tongue touched your clit in a kitten stroke. Your body jerked upright, kept in place only with Bruce’s steel grip. He repeated the move, drawing out a moan you could not hold in. Setting your blood on fire. Christ. A thousand curses and endearments rose in your throat but were desperately stifled by your waning self-control. You knew it would not last long.

The first blow came with Bruce’s skilful tongue circling your clit, learning all the different ways to make you tremble. He was a good listener, taking all the cues you were leaving and changing his technique to fit your needs. Searching for grounding, you sank your fingers in his hair and pulled. Bruce did not seem to mind, briefly stopping his feast to press a lingering kiss on your thigh. His fingers traced circles onto your skin, soothing the fevered flesh. The unbidden confessions showed up again, choking you with ferocity. Bruce was the one to save you, letting his tongue delve inside you in an exploratory move. One that made your hips buck into his face and tore a shout from your mouth.

Desire shot through your body like a bolt of lightning, bringing a delirious grin onto your face. It was quickly wiped clean as Bruce continued licking into you with passion you never expected from him. Utterly devoted to the task and focused on driving you crazy. A coil tightened in your lower belly, making it much harder to shut up. Making you squirm and trash under his hold. When he interrupted the relentless penetration with a flick of his tongue over your clit, you could not keep quiet.

“God, you- You’re so good” panting out the sentence that barely made sense, you highlighted the sentiment with a sharper tug on his hair.

Making Bruce groan into your core, the sound pushing you down the slippery slope with no way back. From then on, it was only a question of when you would break. Your body burned under his attention. Each point of contact felt like a flame scorching your flesh. Your heart hammered between your ribs, overwhelmed with the multitude of feelings. Pleasure rose and rose until all you could do was gasp his name between moans. Till your head was empty of everything but Bruce. Until the tension snapped, and an explosion filled your vision with white.

“I’m- Fuck,” the curse substituted any words you could have intended to say, but it was enough.

Bruce knew, his hands gripped your legs harder as if to ground you moments before. You came with his name on your lips and your hand gripping his hair. Your core squeezed around his prodding tongue wave after wave as Bruce lapped at your arousal without hesitation. Your thighs trapped his head between them, but he did not seem to mind, helping you ride the aftershocks with patience. As you came to, feeling your body go limp with a sigh, Bruce took his time earnestly licking at your folds. Collecting every drop as if he was hooked already on the taste. You did not dare dwell on that thought too long.

Instead, you searched for his hand to squeeze his palm. He understood the signal, instantly raising his head to find your gaze. You knew the look in your eyes could only be described as wild, with the pupils blown out large. But staring into his darkened blue stare, the realization did not hurt quite so much. His lips and chin were shiny from your arousal; the discovery of the fact sent a shiver down your spine. Bruce took hold of your hand to return the squeeze while his lips stretched into a confident smile. An incredibly attractive look, you had to admit.

“So… I take it, I did good,” emphasizing the word, Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the embarrassment at what you said, you could not stop the chuckle. The fondness in your heart made its way to your gaze as you attempted a one-sided shrug.

“You broke me” that was an understatement.

But it only made his grin brighter. Without breaking the eye contact Bruce swept his tongue over his lower lip. Collecting the droplets of your come and crawling up to meet you on the bed. There was no mercy for the wicked.

“I can tell” his eyes roamed over your face affectionately, making you want to hide from his attention.

But you chose to meet it straight on, raising your head just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. Only to instantly groan into his mouth when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Bruce’s embrace tightened around your arms as he gathered you into his chest, carefully laying down next to you. And never breaking the kiss that stretched and evolved to fit your needs. Going from hectic and eager to languid. From chaotic to deliberate, and lasting till you were both out of breath, panting against each other’s mouth, unwilling to separate. You made sure you were sufficiently curled against his warm body before you leaned back to put some space and find his gaze again.

The blue eyes were never disappointing, instantly setting your body on fire with the tenderness you found in them. It felt good to be like this with Bruce, able to let go of the fears and inhibitions. Able to give in to the love you could feel coursing in your bloodstream every second you had spent with Bruce. Because even if he did not reciprocate, the memories would still be there. After. Whatever that meant. After you fucked it and told him, probably. With the aching heart beating in your chest and the creeping dread threatening to tear the moment away from you, the hesitant question placed itself on the tip of your tongue:

“Was it how you imagined?” with your eyes trained on his face, you knew when Bruce caught the meaning.

His flushed cheeks turned redder as his arms tightened around your waist, nose nuzzling into your head to buy him some time. And hide from your curious gaze. Bruce Wayne was adorable, and you had no idea what to do with the fact.

“Better,” his reply came in the form of a rushed word and was followed by an admission you almost thought you had misheard, “Think I’m already addicted to you” he raised his head again to meet your eyes.

It was impossible to get rid of the lovesick look on your face as your body shivered with anticipation. That something was still in the air. The tension that assured you Bruce was eager to take another step. You did not have to search your heart and mind to know you wanted it too. Right here and now. No matter the consequences. You knew there was a high chance you would regret it later. But that did not matter now.

Carefully, you placed your hand over his heart, splaying the palm on his chest and replied:

“That’s my line” taking a deep breath to take the plunge, you added, “I- I want you,” your voice wavered, but the revelation could not have been surer.

The sudden shyness was still concerning, rendering you nearly useless with how it had tied your tongue into knots. But with Bruce, those three words were enough. His eyes darkened almost instantly, a hitch in the breath disguised by a kiss pressed to your temple. It was easy to tell what it meant, encouraging you to trail your hand down the broad planes of his chest and stomach. Eliciting another gasp, this time masked with a tentative question:

“Are you sure?” the irony of his asking did not escape you.

The last time it had been you that asked, a thousand times or more, just to ascertain he would not regret it. To be assured that Bruce wanted to give you that crucial part of himself. A gift no one had given you before. Not quite like that. But now, after everything, you appreciated that he checked. Even though you never needed him to.

“Perfectly” you found his eyes to show him the smile on your face while your hand skated lower still, brushing over his abdomen and the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband.

But you did not stop there, letting your fingertips touch his zipper in what you hoped was a smooth enough suggestion. It worked if the way Bruce grabbed your hand was anything to go by. You shot him a questioning glance, waiting for that telling nod to work his belt undone. Once you had it, his eyes dark and hungry, you did not waste time tugging his trousers and boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere onto the floor. The longer you hesitated, the more likely it would be for your head or heart to catch up. Intervene in what was supposed to be just sex. No strings attached. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

Only when neither of you could hide behind fabric or pretence, the noises in your head grew quiet again. The room was silent as your eyes trailed over his naked body, consuming all the details you had almost forgotten. Though it had only been days. Like the constellation of moles on his hip or the exact markings of his multiple scars. Like the fading bruises, which were all new to your eyes. Like the feel of his hand running over your hip and thigh, drawing you in for a kiss.

You went willingly, melting into his touch and making sure every inch of your body touched his. With your leg in between his, arms thrown around his waist and mouth sealed in a kiss. A kiss that went on for minutes, which felt like hours. An eternity of your tongues sliding against each other’s and tracing the insides of your mouths. Imprinting the taste of him in your mind forever. Slowly, your hands continued exploration, reaching down to touch his length. Carefully yet firmly enough to elicit a groan from his lips and break the kiss. Encouraged by the reaction, you circled his shaft with your hand, putting pressure and making Bruce gasp. It felt powerful.

Bruce met your gaze with dark, hungry eyes, wasting no time to delve a hand between your thighs and spread your arousal over your folds. All for an act of retaliation that had you cursing under your breath. All to make sure you were ready for him. Without stopping your ministrations, you settled to lie on your back, silently extending an invitation. Bruce took it with your name on his lips and his hands on your waist. He shifted to hover over you, knees resting in the cradle of your thighs. The staccato of your heartbeat thumped between your ribs as you laced your hands on the nape of his neck and met his gaze. Nodding once more to assure the both of you. That it was alright. It was what you wanted. Even if it already felt like a mistake.

Bruce entered you with a gasp falling from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You exhaled sharply upon the stretch, body instantly accommodating the feel of him. Your legs opened wider, knees coming up to rest over his hips. It was simple, a primal instinct taking over as you looked him in the eyes and let him know it was okay to move. You could only hope that the pain in your heart would ease. That you could ignore it.

At first, it was easy. You did not let your eyes stray from Bruce, noting every expression that flitting across his face. The awe, the pleasure, and the need. Your fingers tangled into his hair while the other hand sought purchase on his shoulder. Feeling the heat radiating from him and warming every cell of your body. Bruce built up a rhythm, thrusting into you with ease and care. Now and then, he leaned in to kiss you, consuming your lips with his. You tried focusing on it, on the delicious friction and the feel of him inside you. On the closeness and the touch. On the familiarity of his kisses, the pressure of his mouth against yours. But it was not enough. Your heart still felt as if it was being torn apart.

With a moan, you hoisted your legs to cross them over his back, bucking your hips into his. Pleasure erupted underneath your eyelids as he hit the spot that made you cry out his name. Bruce’s only answer was a guttural groan reverberating through your joined bodies. Adding to the urgency building between you. To the need to have it faster and sooner and now. You repeated the move, following that instinct. Soon enough, you had Bruce where you wanted him – gasping and panting; his eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

The pressure in your abdomen rose, making your moans louder. Making you rake your fingernails over his back, breaking the skin and marking Bruce as yours. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

Later you wondered what the reason was. What made you break and shatter like glass. Whether it was how Bruce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze full of affection and admiration you did not deserve and never could live up to. Or his gentle touch, caressing the expanse of your thigh. Or the feel of his breath against your gasping mouth, offering kisses you could not claim without risking too much. Or how he whispered your name, the syllables filled with reverence and devotion. Or maybe it was the constant beating of your heart, spelling out the confessions you could never tell him. Blinding you to the pleasure building in your body.

Before you caught up and understood what was happening, it was done. Tears pooled in your eyes and spilt down your cheeks, tinting your swollen lips with salt. A whimper got caught in your throat, fracturing the moment in a second. You never had the time to hide.

As if in slow motion, you could see when Bruce noticed. His body stilled, eyes widening as his forehead scrunched up with concern. His palm returned to your cheek, rendering it impossible to escape his gaze. The heart thrashed in your chest as you scrapped your mind for words, excuses, anything at all. By the time Bruce asked the question, you came up empty:

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” the worry in his voice felt like a knife to your bleeding heart; you tried turning your head into the pillow, but he did not let you, “Hey, don’t-” you’ve had enough, pressing your palm to his mouth, shutting him up.

At last, your brain found what was needed.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine” the lie fell with practised ease as you slipped on the mask you had tried on many times before; it was just another role, another part to play, “I’m good, Bruce. I promise” forcing a saccharine smile, you moved your palm to caress his face “Don’t stop, please” to strengthen the act, you tightened the muscles in your thighs, caging him within your hold.

Praying to every god you had ever heard of that Bruce would listen. That the tears could dry on your face, and he would push you over the precipice. Help you lose yourself in him and the pleasure. Because you could never explain it. Did not dare to try.

“But you’re-” the conflicted look in his eyes was still there, staining every word with unease.

Ripping your heart into shreds. But there was no other way. There was no universe where you could tell him the truth. No world where you could come clean, whisper those three cursed words, and have this. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you. So, you turned to what you knew best. Desperate to have this night, even if it would be the last one. Impatiently, you wiped the tears off your face and hooked your fingers under his chin, bringing Bruce closer. His mouth an inch away from yours, hot breath fanning your lips:

“I need you like this,” your eyes revealed the despair you no longer tried to hide, “I need you to fuck me so I can forget everything else” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew why it felt wrong.

It was a dirty trick, an appeal to the side Bruce did not yet have under control. But it was the only one you knew would work. And it had to work.

His gasp and the way he twitched inside you confirmed you were right. But nothing eased the bitterness coating your tongue. Not the way Bruce squeezed you tighter, his swallowed curse buried in the heated kiss you did not deny him. When his tongue swept over yours, you wondered whether he could taste your anguish.

Bruce broke the contact too soon, searching your face for any signs of the truths you had been hiding. All for nothing. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered the final word of encouragement:

“Please” you met his gaze, aware of your glassy eyes and the pain in your tone.

Bruce only nodded and kissed your forehead, resuming the steady rocking of his hips into yours. Almost as if nothing happened at all. Almost. Your inner walls involuntarily clenched around him, drawing out another groan. Making the throbbing between your thighs prominent again. Just like before. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you latched onto his arms, thrusting up to meet his hips with increasing speed. The desire pooled in your veins, making you bite his shoulder. Resulting in a loud moan, which only spurred you on.

Trading bites like kisses along his neck and throat till Bruce was panting above you. His hips stuttered and twitched in what you knew were tell-tale signs he was close. You were not that far behind, freeing one of your hands to find your clit between your bodies. Desperate to follow him.

Your movement made Bruce look up, his eyes instantly finding yours. You should have always known that would be your downfall. How he looked at you, his gaze filled with a myriad of feelings, some indescribable and impossible to identify. That same unknowable emotion there, like many times before. That tenderness and affection that bruised your heart each time. This one was not any different.

The heart thumped in your chest, the pulse in your ears drowning out thoughts and fears till all you could hear were the moans and sighs neither of you held back. Till unbidden words slipped through your tight control.

“Make me yours. I want to be yours” only when they were out, whispered in between whimpers, you realised what you just said.

What it meant. And prayed Bruce did not hear it. Please.

There was no time to dwell on it, for as soon as the words left your mouth Bruce’s hips stuttered. His tempo waned, forcing you to act. To take over the rhythm and buck your hips till you could feel him tense up. Till it was enough. His lips opened with a breathless moan as he came inside you with a sharp gasp, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. Bruce’s body shook in your hold as he rode the high, never once stopping to chant your name into your skin.

With his arms around you still, it was easy to let go. Let yourself fall, knowing Bruce was there to catch you. For once, you weren’t alone. The sensation of his teeth biting into the sensitive skin underneath your ear pushed you over the precipice. Your vision darkened, a sharp cry piercing the silence as your steel grip bruised his bicep. Your tense muscles uncoiled at once as the orgasm coursed through your body, twitching in the aftershocks. You had been burnt to cinder. Ruined for anyone else. Forever.

Unable to move, you sagged into the mattress, eyes closed to stop yourself from doing something stupid. Or stupider than you’ve already done. Faintly, you could feel a reassuring touch running over your arms and waist, lulling the anxieties and fears. Fooling you into the promise of safety. But the mirage was better than the hard truth and the cruel reality. You took a deep breath to steady your heart and opened your eyes.

Only to find Bruce gazing back at you with concern. On its own accord, your hand rose to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Before you could drop it again, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He rolled off your body, putting inches of space between you as he settled on his side.

“Everything alright?” his question brought you back into the moment, anchoring your mind in the present.

The tinge of relief at the lack of mention of your slip-up was unmistakable. But so was the gratitude you felt upon check-in. A step Bruce could have ignored after everything you had put him through. Especially tonight. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You went too far, didn’t you?

“Yeah. Yes,” swallowing hard, you hoped the guilt could be wiped off your face, “You’ve just kinda blown my mind” a half-hearted shrug and a weak smile were all you could manage.

It was not surprising to see a flash of distrust in Bruce’s eyes as they scanned your face for any signs of lies. You were too good at pretending for him to find anything solid. But he knew you well enough to tell something was off. After a beat, he gave up, meeting your gaze with a smirk of his own:

“You asked me to” the confidence in his voice was still there, now, perhaps even stronger.

Because – yes. You asked, and he delivered, and now you knew, for a fact, that Bruce Wayne was an avid learner. Which somehow made everything harder. Like not falling for him further. If that was even possible.

You did not talk much after. With your refusal to delve into any part of what happened, and Bruce’s inability to persuade you to talk, it was easier to stay silent. As if on autopilot, you pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, wordlessly heading to the ensuite. To hide and marinate in misery for as long as you could without it being even more suspicious. Avoiding the mirror, you got dressed in a set of sweats and cleaned your face.

The unknown of what you would find back in your room terrified you the most. Because there was no guarantee Bruce would still be there. You did not discuss it, easily letting the awkwardness consume you both. But the hope was still there. The hope that he would stay. Even if just this once.

When you had hand-combed your hair and checked at least twenty times whether there were no signs of the war you were waging in your head, you exited the bathroom. Your eyes darted across the room, drawn to the bed where you had last seen him. Bruce was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. Your heart thumped in your chest, relieved and overwhelmed at once. Bruce waiting on you was just a part of the predicament. The other was that now you had to ask for what you needed.

The creaking floorboards gave away your presence as Bruce glanced at you over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, his back littered with moles, scars, and red lines from where you had scratched him. The discovery brought an instant blush to your cheeks as you silently stared back. The impasse was broken by Bruce’s timid smile, warming up your heart and stifling the fears. If he was still around, it meant that it would be okay. Right?

In a split second, you decided that the only way of finding out was to ask him. No matter how terrifying that seemed. Steeling your spine upon his searching look, you whispered the question:

“Can you stay with me?” fully aware of the tremble in your voice and the shaking in your hands, clasped together tightly.

Aware of the vulnerability you were showing, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions you had dragged him through the past hour. But there was no annoyance on Bruce’s face. An invisible weight lifted off your shoulders as you watched him nod, following the gesture with a reply:

“I was hoping you’d ask” it was that same soft tone which had captured your heart at the very beginning.

Almost as gentle as the look in his eyes, willingly offering the truth you did not expect to hear. Not after everything. Frozen with the dazed smile on your lips, you only moved when Bruce got up from the bed and crossed the space to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your palms as he leaned in to kiss your temple. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom. But there were no regrets or uncertainties this time. He would stay. It would be okay.

At least until the morning.

***

Later, when she was long asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the room, Bruce was still awake. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder as if it belonged there. There was only a slight twinge of guilt in his heart when he tightened the hold over her body, drawing her closer. Because god only knew how long that would last. Because if there was one thing the evening taught him, it was that she still was lost within the prison of her own making. Unwilling to believe it was real. That this was real. She was still looking for a reason to run. And he had no way of proving her wrong.

But Bruce wanted to try. Even if it would all be in vain.

He stared at her peaceful face, bathed in the faint moonlight peeking through the hastily drawn curtains, feeling the steady beat of her heart. There was only one thought circling in his head like a vulture. She was wrong. And she had to know. Bruce turned his head towards hers, instantly feeling her burrow her head into the crook of his neck. Still asleep. An uncertain smile bloomed on his face as he whispered:

“I told you there would never be anybody else,”

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eurydicesflower · 2 years

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sugar and sweet potatoes (lty)

Pairing: Taeyong (NCT) x Reader Tags: College AU, Mutual Pining & Confessions Warnings: None Word Count: 878 words Summary: And if this would be a dream, then you wouldn’t want to wake up. A/N: This was originally posted in my other writing account on AO3 so I decided to post here as well! Enjoy! Also posted on: Archive of Our Own

You were only an inch away from him.

No, don't look at him or else you'll melt. Stupid heart doesn’t know when to stop. He was only this close because he was showing you his article for the org and—

“Hey, you okay? We can take a break you know?”

You snapped yourself back from reality as quick as you can so that you can reply with a firm nod.

“Yeah, I'm just not feeling well lately...” You lied.

Taeyong looked at you with concern.

And fuck those doe eyes when he looks at you. How can someone be pretty and handsome at the same time?! Only Taeyong Lee of course. The one and only. Then moments later he stood up from his seat and packed his things.

Confused, you gazed up and said, “Hey, where are you going?”

“We.” He corrected. “Well, we're going to eat. My treat.”

Taeyong has been your companion ever since you met him in one of your orgs. He was a writer, too. Even though he was a film student while you are a journalism student, both of you have the same passion on your field, and maybe that's why you two became friends. You were both passionate. He was one of the writers you looked up to. He was a year ahead of you, and one of the first people you became close with. Eventually the two of you become friends. Although he was busy, he still makes time to study together.

He then tugged your hand, hoisting you up on your seat and snapping you from your musings.

“Good thing it was my vacant or else I might be bored during Sir Moon's class.” he joked but you knew how he was not much of a slacker.

He aces his class, for fuck's sake. Taeyong Lee.

And no, you're not jealous of him. Instead, you admire him very much. Sometimes you even thought that admiration steps on a line you knew that might broke off your friendship with him. Liking him more than a friend...

“What's wrong? I'm treating you and you're looking like that.” You two were already outside the library when sensed that you stopped. He turned behind to face you and held your cheek in his hand.

You pouted, “Stop it!”

But you eventually giggled, and put your hand on top of his. People who passed by the two of you might mistake you two as a couple. Moments after that, you two made eye contact— his brown velvet eyes bore into your own. It made your heartbeat quicken, and you even wished that Taeyong wouldn't hear how fast it beats for him. And if he does, how would he even react that his friend had fallen for him?

“Yong...” You mumbled in your breath.

“What are we?”

You couldn't help yourself utter those questions. You didn't hold back your tongue this time. For so long you've been wanting to ask him that. Every touch he gives you, every word that he assures you— you find every meaning to that. Maybe it was just you who had just given it a malicious meaning. He was already in his senior year, and you were planning to tell him that you like him for so long. Right now, you just wanted to make it clear so that your feelings— these fucking feeling of yours— will now stop.

Everything around you seemed to stop when he spoke the next words:

“I don’t know…”

You didn’t know how to react at his exact words. Like you really accept that he wouldn’t look at you the same way you look at him. Maybe this was better than-

“But…” Taeyong wasn’t finished yet. “For so long, I wanted to tell you this— I like you…”

His eyes completely focused into you; he was gazing at you. No more comedic antics or anything, his lips turned into a shy upturned smile. “I’m just waiting for this moment and I didn’t know that it will be that time… But I do like you not just as a friend.”

You were still skeptic so you asked him, “Did you just say that to make me feel better?”

Taeyong shook his head, and there was his look again. His intense stare that could melt you on the spot then all of a sudden, he gave you a kiss on the cheek which made your face instantly heat in embarrassment, you get to push him quickly.

“Wha— Why do that?”

He chuckled airily, “You’re cute and I like you. Do you like me, too?”

You rolled your eyes. You were the first one who asked him that, then how the tables turned when he was the one asking you whether you like him as a friend or not. But still, you answered him.

“Well… I like you, too, so?” You raised a brow, pointing finger on his chest, and he smirked slightly.

“Then, let’s go eat. Come on.” He said, holding your hand in his. This time, both of your hands were intertwined together and the first time that you will tell yourself that one of your wildest dreams happened: dating your best friend.

And if this would be a dream, then you wouldn’t want to wake up.

#taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct fanfic #neo culture technology #borrowed tags:#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct 127 smut

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back2luvs · 1 year

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What / Who I Write For

Basically just a small masterpost on the characters / idols I write for, and also the things I write about! ^^

What I write:

Fluff, romance, angst, crack, and sometimes smut (but only for HBO Max's Warrior characters) or anything in-between;

Occasionally, I might write about dark topics (mainly abuse and mental health issues (these will be tagged as such)) and maybe anything with children;

I also write based on headcanons as well;

Idols who are 04 liners and older;

Character Ships, Character x Fem!/AFAB!/Gender Neutral Reader, Idol Pairings;

Drabbles (Single Drabbles, Double Drabbles, and Triple Drabbles), Standalone fics (both short and long ones), Songfics, Multi-chapter fics and AUs, and maybe scenarios

What I don't write:

Anything containing non-con, abuse, incest, homophobia, transphobia, racism, etc;

Idol x Reader;

Male readers;

BP / GP;

Smut for kpop idols;

Basically anything I'm uncomfy with

Who I write for:

HBO Max's Warrior

Ah Sahm, Ah Toy, Mai Ling, Li Yong, Nellie Davenport, Eliza Pendleton

Kpop groups (more groups might be added in the near future):

Aespa

Yoo Jimin / Karina, Uchinaga Aeri / Giselle, Kim Minjeong / Winter, Ning Yizhuo / Ningning

Enhypen

Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong / Jay, Sim Jaeyun / Jake, Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo, Yang Jungwon

Everglow

Park Jiwon / E:U, Kim Sihyeon, Heo Yoorim / Aisha, Wang Yiren

Ive

Kim Gaeul, An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Jang Wonyoung, Kim Jiwon / Liz

Lapillus

Chantal Videla / Chanty, Nonaka Shana, Nancy Yang / Yue, Susanna Kim / Bessie

Le Sserafim

Miyawaki Sakura, Kim Chaewon, Huh Yunjin, Nakamura Kazuha

Red Velvet

Bae Joohyun / Irene, Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan / Wendy

That's all for now I guess, further notes and reminders will be stated in my works :)

#what i write for #who i write for #apparently i thought i posted this already but since i haven't lemme just do this now

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legends-of-apex · 3 years

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Warrior on a date HCs? 🙏🏼😫

(Bolo, YJ, Ah Sahm, Ah Toy, Li Yong)

The Warrior characters on a date - Headcanons

Rating: T (mentions of drinking, non-sexual intimacy)

Tagging: @icy-spicy @noobsaibots

Here you go, lovely! Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for your request 🥰 headcanons are gender neutral for all characters!

Ah Sahm

Probably running through the streets at full pelt to get there on time and makes it by the skin of his teeth. Usually has a bit of blood on his face and gives his s/o the heart eyes when they very kindly wipe it off for him and press a kiss to wherever the blood was, even when he assures them that the blood wasn’t his. Will look at his s/o like a lovesick puppy for the rest of the night

Prefers a date in a more quiet and intimate setting away from the bustle and noise he’s used to. A date at his s/o’s place is perfect cause it’s familiar and comfortable territory. Loves curling up with or walking arm in arm with his s/o and talking about the most meaningless things. Dates with him are gentle, intimate and sweet

Ah Toy

She wants her s/o to have her, not whatever version of her she puts on for others so something nice and cozy suits her best. Loves going to the market and getting some food, bringing it back home and having a feast with her s/o by the warmth of the fireplace. Rarely doesn’t bring a gift of some kind for her s/o even if it’s just food

Her eyes barely leave her s/o at all throughout the whole date, especially when they’re talking about something they’re passionate about. She’s just looking at them adoringly all night. She’ll do everything she can to make them feel appreciated and cared for. Dates with her are passionate, quiet and personal

Bolo

Likes doing something fun with his s/o. Going for a walk, going for drinks, anything where there won’t be much silence or absence of things to talk about. He always walks them home afterwards with his hand in theirs, even if they live right next door to where the date was. A single kiss to his cheek in thanks and he’ll give the brightest smile imaginable

Is very good at smooth-talking his way into being asked if he’d like to join them inside. He’ll do that even if they’ve been dating for months and he’s been told he can come in or stay over anytime. It’s probably easier if you just pull him inside when he starts his pitch

Li Yong

He doesn’t mind where the date is or what they’re doing together. So long as he gets to spend time with his s/o then he’s happy. He likes to keep dates light because he’s used to just the most dour things. He smiles all the time on dates because he’s genuinely happy to be there and he’ll do everything he can to make his s/o smile too

He’s showering his s/o in soft kisses all the time on a date. Especially loves pressing gentle kisses to their cheek, their knuckles, their forehead. He sees a date as the time to dote on his s/o because he’s usually so busy otherwise. He’s giving constant love and affection on dates, or as much as his s/o let’s him

Young Jun

He’s out here doing the most!! Flowers for his date, chivalry dialled up to the max, making sure he’s looking his best. He just wants his s/o to feel special so he goes all out. Dates with him are often high-energy and grand. He spares no expense!

Is nervous as hell but will mask that with flirting. He’s respectful but will openly flirt with his s/o constantly. He’ll also compliment them every third or fourth sentence just to see them smile. Probably helped pick out something for his s/o to wear on their date and he’ll be sure to let them know how good they look

#ah sahm #ah toy #bolo #Li Yong #young jun #warrior hbo max #ah sahm x reader #ah toy x reader #bolo x reader #Li Yong x reader #young jun x reader #headcanons #requested #ladybug023 #my writing #warrior

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camdentown-library · 3 years

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So yeah...I'm simping for "Warrior" and yes the requests are super open for these characters:

#bill o'hara #warrior #ah sahm #young jun #li yong #wang chao #richard henry lee #imagine #imagines #request open #x reader

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forthechubbies · 3 years

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Our Little Wife Vol.3

Is This Love?

Romcom, Nsfw!, Cursing, Lewd Thoughts, Violence, Pet Names, Blood ( Jungkook being a rowdy ruff boy), Manhandling, and Fluffy Marshmallow?!

Mafia! Bangtan X Chubby! Reader (Focuses on Taehyung & Jungkook)

My Teddies ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ @lolalee24 @mwitsmejk @mcusuperfreak @jinswifeyy @flowery-hope @mochiarcher

Where's My Wife - Jimin’s Past

A month. A whole month has gone by since your disappearance- Are you ok? Are you eating well?... Do you miss us? We miss us. It hurts us to think about you, but it's all we can do, that and turn into workaholics. Everybody pretty much has gone to shit after you left,

Yoongi-hyung picked up his nasty habit of drinking again, Namjoon-hyung stays cooped up in his office, Jin-hyung only sleeps in your bed, your lovely scent keeps him sane, Hoseok-Hyung developed one hell of a temper.

Jimin often zones out through the day, and poor Jungkook doesn't eat or talk to anyone anymore; He leaves in the middle of the night and comes back with his boxing gloves drench in blood but not a bruise on his skin.

As for me, Well, I know you're alright, but the world doesn't stop revolving, neither doesn't business. A couple of M4's men were caught snooping on our turf since everybody else is no good at the moment; the wisest choice is for me to have a meeting with the head honcho.

"I'm headed out. I will be right back." I might as well be talking to myself; no one answered, no one cared. Once mighty, seven men turned into hallow broken shells of themselves from just one woman. Aish, but I be a liar if I said I didn't I miss you.

Your cute smile, chubby cheeks, pretty face...soft skin, thick and juicy body, big milky breast. God, the taste of you sent chills down my spine, among other places-

"Master Kim, We are here."

“Um, Yes-Thank you. I will be right back.” I moved up closer to the chauffeur's ear. “We are in enemy territory, so be on your toes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

What are these women up to? We haven't even shared glances in years after the peace treaty was settled between the two of us. I hope they're not attempting another turf war nonsense-the amount of bloodshed is not worth it also; my husbands are not in the best conditions at this very moment-

“Of course, I will get them to Noona right away” I-I know that voice! Honey pot!? “Oh, they're for me. How sweet! They're so beautiful.” and clear as day, You radiantly stood behind the greeting desk, humbling accepted the stranger's bouquet.

After the man left, you smile at the flower and excuse yourself to back, only to return with a big enough vase for your flowers to perfectly in the guests' eyes.

“Excuse me; I have an appointment with Ms.Kim Yong-Sun.” You answer without giving me some much as a passing glance. “ Miss? It's good manners to look at people when spoken to.”

“I’m sorry, Mr?” You looked up at me with those darling doe eyes. Your lips ghost my name, but you didn't say a word. You looked scared as if I was the grim reaper coming for you.

“Kim. Kim Taehyung, Would you mind showing me to her office, please. It's my first time here.” I lied.

The woman beside you notices your frightened expression and seeks to intervene. “I can take you, Sir.”

“It’s okay, Unnie," You step out from behind the desk, and I could feel my breath being stolen away; the business casual attire flattered your voluptuous figure; a pencil skirt at calves length would be a turn-off to most men, but I had the privilege of reaching farther their pitful imagines.

Arriving at the elevators, I went in, but You stood at the doors. "Ms. Kim is on the top flo-OR!"

I snatched her in before the elevator's door close.

Narrative's Pov

"Mr.Kim?!-"

"I'm not in the mood for the foreplay, Honey pot." Taehyung punched the emergency stop. "...Are you enjoying doing this shit?... Do you get some thrill out of fucking with us!? Huh!?”

“ No, It's not like that-”

“Then what is it-!” Taehyung had you pinned to the wall. “ What was worth abandoning us!? Were you even planning on ever coming back to us?!”

“Of course, I was!” You cried. “ I didn’t want to leave-it’s just”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “ Please, don’t talk me it’s about this job nonsense.”

“My freedom is not nonsense!” You felt like you were shouting at a brick wall! “You know what, You guys are the reason I left!”

“What did you just-!”

“You all are so controlling! I can’t do anything without Jimin or-or Namjoon or you on my back! I’m a grown woman I should know have to be independent and not dependent on seven men whether I can go out or not.”

“ We care about you is all. We want to protect you-.”

“Taehyung, there is a fine line between being protective and being possessive!-Listen, Babybear, I love you guys with all my heart, but while I'm working here, I feel like I'm worth my weight in gold.”

“Your palladium.” He mumbled.

“Huh?

“Palladium is worth more than gold.” He explained, then sighed. “ Are you happy here?”

“Yes, but there's never a day that goes when I don't miss you guys.” You lightly pecked Taehyung's cheek, leaving a lipstick print on his cheek.

“As long as you are happy and safe. I guess I won't tell the guys until you come back on your own...”

“Thank you, Honey pot!-”

“In exchange-!” He carried on. “ I get to invite you when I feel see fit.”

You gleamed. “Of course.”

.....

“Dongsang (Little Sister in Korean), We're going to eat then heading home, I know you're in the mood for some Tteokbokki.” She teased.

The Unnie's drew a cute bond with you, maybe it's you being the youngest, and they see it as an adorable kitten trying to make her place in the cruel world or your sweet, plushie, and impossible to hate. It's a good amount of both, to be honest.

You softly declined through a smile. " No, Thank you, Unnie, I'm going to finish up here and head home, but I hope you eat well.”

She bowed then rushed to join the rest but not before turning around with a face full of worry. “Dongsang, Please be careful going home, rumor is there's some creep wandering around with blood painted on him.”

You pay no heed to rumors despite so you nodded and said. “I will be extra careful.”

“Good.” The Unnies waved until they were out of sight.

Now, It's only you and Ms.Kim who is still in her office it seems..oh, you must be confused, let me fill you in. If Mr. Taehyung would have asked about your living arrangements, he would have learned you are now staying with the MMM4, the female mafia version of them but you know them as Solar, Hwasa, Moonie, and Wheein; a group of women you knew since high school, and if you remember the license plate for volume two, it was them who were more than delighted to take you away from your ungrateful husbands.

I guess I should have gone with them for some Tteokbokki, I thought she would be done by now. No, harm in eating while I wait. Right?

Meanwhile, In the Bangtan Household.

“Kim said they had nothing to do with what her men were doing on our turf but she said she would take care of it personally,” Taehyung reported to Namjoon.

Namjoon nodded. “I hope she does, We don't need unnecessary bloodshed on our hands especially at the mental state we're in.” He turned in his chair to Jungkook sitting with his head in his hands. “Speaking of bloodshed, Kook, You've been very active lately, starting bar fights, beating your opponents to a bloody pulp in the ring, oh and still one is Hyung's favorite, you singlehandedly put six gang members in the hospital for talking about Yn-.”

“You should have heard the shit they said, Hyung.” Jungkook stood in defense. “You're lucky all they got is a hospital visit and not a free trip to the morgue-”

“Jungkook!” Namjoon matched Jungkook's height. “You're a teenager anymore, Your a grown man so act it! I don't want to catch you doing shit like this again. I’ve had enough of what he said she said from you! If I catch you again, You're getting punished! You get me!?”

In response, Jungkook rolled his eye and took his leave but the bright crimson residue on Taehyung’s cheek didn't go unnoticed without an interrogation.

“ What the fuck is that on your cheek?”

Taehyung wiped his cheek and stared at the red stain on his fingerpads.

Jungkook leaned in closer, “Lipstick?” Feeling his temper skyrocket, Jungkook took a right hook at Taehyung's jawline with enough force to snap it if he didn't move quickly, Taehyung stumbles across Namjoon’s desk knocking down paperwork in an attempt to get away from Jungkook's assault.

“Creampuff has only been gone a month and You’ve already started sleeping around.” Jungkook threw a jab down but Taehyung fell off the desk before it could hit him instead, Jungkook's fist went crashing through Namjoon’s desk. “ I would expect this shit from Jimin but you-!”

“Enough!” Namjoon held Jungkook by his collar and shoved him to the door. “Go cool off! Kook! Take a walk or something, I will handle Taehyung.”

Jungkook scoffed and exited the house with a slam! “ Cool off-I should've broken the bastard’s neck.”

A couple of blocks's away

"Mmm! Some yummy-"

"I'm happy, You changed your mind." You were happy too, You can't remember the last time you sat down among friends and enjoying a meal. You're generally having fun-

“Welcome!” The elder woman shouted to a newcomer. “Oh, my Kookie! Aigoo! It's been too long. You grew up to such a beautiful flower.” She gushed.

That's cute, That sounds like my pet name for my Jungkookie.

“Thank you, Grandma.”

He sounds like Jungkook.

You decided to be nosey and take a peek at the entrance, the owner petting the head of a man and raised leaned up and smiled.

He is Jungkook!

“Eep!!” You dropped down under the table.

“Dongsang, Are you ok?!”

“Yes, Yes um, I-my-my ride is here. I will get going-” You quickly bowed and crawled to the nearest exit.

“Do you wish to join your wife's party?” The grandma smiled.

Jungkook shot a look at the old woman. “ You saw Yn?”

Grandma points to your table but you were nowhere to be found. “ Oh dear, She was here just a few seconds ago...My eyes must be failing me.”

But Jungkook had a feeling in his gut, she was right. “Be right back, Grandma.” You can't get far, Jungkook beats you in every form when it comes to...will everything especially athletics, what made Jungkook more dangerous is his extra cunning, and when that cunning personality blends with his competitive spirit. Jungkook soon develops the thriller of the chase and when that happens-

“Hello, Creampuff.”

“Ahhh!!!!”

You're better off dead.

“Kookie!-I can explain...” You took some comfort in the table separating the two of you. “But let's talk somewhere more private.” Whispering is redundant to the prying eyes of the already invested locals. “Kookie?”

What's scarier? Jungkook's serious face or an emotionless stare. I say both are pretty terrifying..but taking an inside look, Jungkook fell victim to your attire just as Taehyung; lewd thoughts stirred up his heartbeat as well as excitement from seeing his darling cream puff again.

“Jung-KOOK!” Hopping over a measly table was child’s play for a spry rabbit-like himself. You both were knockdown on, Jungkook had you nailed down to the floor. “I-Oof” He laid down flat and hugged you.

“Aw, my Kookie.” You massaged his scalp, raking your fingers through the back of his head. “Oh, You grew out your hair.”

I will spare you the details of you explaining the reasoning for your disappearance but Jungkook more than anyone understood your thirst for freedom being so of him being the bangtan’s baby.

“...Let’s go.” Jungkook tugged at your arm.

“Where?”

An answer only the Jungkook knows. He leaned over gripping those plump thighs of yours and hoist you up over his shoulder. Your protest fell on deaf ears as Jungkook strolled shamelessly to the secret destination.

“What are we-?”

“Hush.” Jungkook fiddled with his phone before tossing it on a nearby bench.

The song ‘Is This Love’ by Aalia slowly blasted through his speakers.

“Oh, this was our wedding song.” You smiled and humming along.

Jungkook cradled your waist in his hands, pulling your body against his and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, softly swaying to the slow song.

“I didn't take you as a romantic, Kookie.”

“ It's hard not to be when you love someone more than you love yourself.” He bought his face close to yours. “You only been gone for a short time but It made me realized how ungrateful I was not cherishing a beautiful angel like you by my side.” He leaned in closer until your nose touch. “As a punishment, I have to make these moments last until you come back to us.”

“Aw, my Kookie -mmm” You stood on your tippy-toe to meet his lips in a passionate lock. He

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagination #bts imagine #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts x chubby reader #chubby reader #Spotify #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic

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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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Commentary ~ Little Red Little Green Episode 18, “Fruits & Found Family”

Link to original post in Chinese, posted 2021/05/23. Link to official English translation.

(Disclaimer / Notes + Commentary under the cut!) (TW: possible eating disorder)

Disclaimer / Notes:

While the posts by Little Red Little Green (LRLG) are among my most favourite candies, I’d like to remind everyone that they are fake rumours, and should be read and enjoyed as such. ie, all CPN below!

The English translation linked above is the only one authorised by the Fake Rumour House; therefore, please treat all content below as a very casual, very *unofficial* convo between fellow turtle friends! ❤️💛💚

With Chinese being a highly region-specific language, my reactions to it is necessarily filtered through my background, which is, admittedly, somewhat removed from Gg’s, Dd’s and LRLG’s. However, it is not uncommon for even c-turtles (and several times, LRLG themselves) to be lost with what they read / heard due to regional differences ~ which reflects the reality of communicating in the Sinosphere. In fact, the regionality of the dialects used by different “characters” in LRLG’s dialogues is among the most critical elements that make these posts so authentic-sounding, and so difficult to replicate. A fun activity of following LRLG is to watch c-turtles patch their regional knowledge together, from local slangs to food choices, to make sense of what’s going on.

Okay, with that all said *phew* ... onto the commentary! “p. X” refers to the panel number in the official English translation (there are 7 total in the Twitter post).

p1. “Fairy”

Likely referring to the similarity between Gg’s current role for 玉骨遥 (The Longest Promise) and LWJ. Dd was praising Gg for being “fairy-like”; Chinese “fairies” (仙) have a certain style especially in visual media, similar to ... LWJ’s ~ otherworldly, white robes that billow in the wind, peaceful to the point of distant, scholarly, delicate. In between the lines, Gg likely said he was simply playing LWJ (hence, the ”act another me” in the translation), which Dd protested... and said Gg was simply playing himself. Whether that means DD IS NOT LWJ!!!!! 😡😡😡 or something else, we’ll know what we get to watch the show!

p1-p2. “Heat”

Yes about the Chang’e 嫦娥 reference!! Despite Houyi 后羿 shooting down 9/10 suns and saving the day, his wife is, indeed, more famous (and therefore the star, the more powerful one), because she’s frequently featured in Mid-Autumn festival art, along with her pet rabbit 玉兔 (”Jade Rabbit”),:

(Chang’e with her bunny, traditional Chinese painting. Source.)

Below is Gg’s rendition of Chang’e / Jade Bunny pair ~ Chang’e being the superman in the drawing while Jade Bunny is crouching on the planet!!

Guess of the missing convo from Gg’s side: Gg had wanted to bring something to Hengdian (where the filming of The Longest Promise was taking place) to cool himself down, and Dd had said it wasn’t necessarily. Hence Dd’s “My bad my bad” and the promise to send that something to Gg.

The loveliest line in this segment for me—and for many c-turtles— is the one about white hair. Turning grey a common, but very old-fashioned way of expressing worry and poor Dd, who hasn’t even turned 24, is claiming he was turning white because he got so worried every time Gg complained about the heat (Aww).

Turning grey with worry isn’t limited to romantic situations — it may happen to doting parents with wayward children, for example, or to ancient patriots over their crumbling kingdom. However, it’s also one of the more (very!) dramatic ways to communicate tragic love in Chinese fiction before Western influence allows “love”, as a term / word / character, to be used explicitly in writing romance.

Here’s a little example, a little diversion that may be of interest. Those who are familiar with the Wuxia classic Return of the Condor Heroes 神雕俠侶 by Jin Yong 金庸, whether it’s the book or its numerous visual adaptations, may remember how the hero, Yang Guo 楊過, went white at his temples overnight after his Shifu and lover, Xiao Long Nv (小龍女), didn’t show up at the cliff at the end of his 16-year wait for her.

Set photo from a TV adaption of Return of the Condor Heroes, 1995. Turtles may find the actress playing the perenially white-wearing, calm-to-the point-of-aloof Xiao Long Nv, Carmen Li 李若彤, familiar ~ she also played Lan Yi in The Untamed.

The 16-year wait, the invitation to Carmen to play Lan Zhan’s ancestor (when the two shared similarities in aesthetics and personality), were two of the three references from Return of the Condor Heroes I picked up from The Untamed (the last one was more specific—WWX mentioned Yang Guo’s master 獨孤求敗). This tribute is unconfirmed, but MXTX did say before that Jin Yong’s works were her inspiration. I also read a (small) discussion on whether LWJ’s hair carried a few pieces of white in the final episode, or if the lighter strands in it were a trick of the sunlight. (Here’s a screenshot of the approximate place to look!!)

While I lean towards the latter (the sunlight), turning white with worry, with love, is a tradition in Chinese storytelling. Here’s a little something I’ve noticed too, on this note ~ both in the actual interviews and in these fake rumours, Dd’s word choices, the way he conveys emotions are sometimes surprisingly traditional. It can be because of his background (which would require a study of how Luo Yang people and Koreans talk); it can be because the traditional way of talking allows for fewer words to be said, fewer things to have to be explicitly explained (example: LWJ), but the effect is that Dd has supplied the most romantic lines in LRLG’s posts because of that ~ romantic because it harks back to the rhythm, the themes of old poetry, of ancient stories that, as were true everywhere in the world, were about love.

Okay, back to the rumour (and hoping Dd won’t look like Bad Wig Yang Guo in a few more summers!) ....

The line after the one about white hair ... the way I understand the original Chinese sentence is “Heat is The Reason”: ie, anything Dd wants Gg to do and Gg disagrees, Gg would use heat as The Reason (R) to not do it. This anything may be eating, for example, which also has a strong possibility as conventional Chinese wisdom says that heat causes people to lose appetite. Dd’s worry would therefore be: Gg refusing to eat because he claims it’s too hot to do so.

“Corny joke” ~ the Chinese for this is, literally, “cold 冷 joke 笑話”, which becomes a pun as the gzry (team members)’s joke was about the (cold) winter and black hair. So... Dd threw a corny joke to combat a corny joke :D .

p3. “Apple”

The first half I also had to rely on c-turtles to help me interpret what it meant! Regional dialects aside, LRLG has captured dls’s very quick wit, the way his ideas freely hop from one concept to the next and this hopping carries traditional + popular cultural references that I know only a fraction of, not being a local after all.

I’ve read an additional interpretation of this segment: “big fruit” 大果兒 (as in dls: “Those are all big fruits, all big fruits”) is a Northern Chinese, traditional slang for women—dls might have connected that with the previous line in the convo about being Guowang, as explained in the translation, and “big and juicy” + “touch to feel” being suggestive phrases. Then, given the rare usage of the big fruit = women slang, dls expressed surprise that Dd understood what he meant, went on to say he expected Gg to know it (implying Gg could’ve taught Dd the meaning) ...

Which led to the entertaining part of this segment. Dd was like “You guys (= Gg + dls) talked?” Dls appeared to have thought of the scenario customarily inviting this question (scenario: someone on the verge of catching their spouse cheating) and began playacting that scenario, started to stammer ... as if he had just been got caught trying to chat up someone’s spouse ~ ”I-I-I....how to say it ...”. Dd caught on dls’s playacting and went along, continued with the “accusation”: “You’re stammering”. Dls then noted that Dd’s accusation was scary and Dd smiled, ending the playact ~ so, ah, readers, never mess with Dd’s spouse!! Dd gets scary!!

(BTW: ”nijia na kouzi” 你家那口子 was explained in the translation for a reason ~ It’s a warm, friendly term for a dear friend’s spouse. 😊)

p4. Lychees

Lychees. Has everyone tried them? It’s important not to over-eat them though...

In which the “Feeding Gg” saga continues! This segment is one of those that are wonderful for fic writers who wish to capture Gg and Dd in words. Gg, like many brought up in traditional families, has trouble saying “no” outright, which is often considered rude. As such, he resorted to delay tactics, something he had also done with the fried noodles in The Makeup Room BTS.

In the BTS, his delay tactics had been to argue that Dd hadn’t eaten his box of noodles and therefore, he couldn’t start (~2:35 mark)—as proper manners indeed dictated. In this dialogue, his delay tactics was to say he’d eat the lychees later, that the lychees would make him too full for the proper meal (rice).

A cute thing about this convo is that rather than pouting and grumbling his only being LWJ’s replacement (as he had hilariously done in the BTS), Dd had, apparently over the last three years, become an expert on countering such delay tactics. He peeled the lychees, which not only removed a major obstacle for eating, but also set a timer as peeled lychees get dry quickly (and Gg, despite being a picky eater, didn’t seem to like to waste food). He said the fruit could make appetiser. He got the help of their team members, who assured Gg that two lychees would be all right.

Gg’s response to the assurance... takes a little time to explain.

The original Chinese line for “Great, great, you’re so awesome” was 絕了絕了你們絕了。 “絕了”, a popular phrase used by Chinese netizens, was repeated three times.

絕, literally, means the extreme, the absolute, the end. 絕了 means pretty much the same ~ a thing that is 絕了 is standing en pointe at the edge of the cliff that is The Absolute End of a spectrum. It is the Ultimate. It can't be surpassed. It’s unbeatable.

絕了 is usually used in a positive sense, as in the English translation, with the positive being implied. If I say the LWJ photo above is 絕了, for example, I don’t need to specify that the extreme in 絕 stands on the good end. It’s understood given the audience of this post are mostly turtles (HELLO *waves*). We’re all heart-eyes here. We agree, without saying, that this photo is The Top, The Pinnacle; it can’t be better. 絕了 is higher praise than Excellent; it’s so good that there are no adjectives for it. Its own presence defines How Good It Is.

But 絕了 doesn’t have to be positive. If my audience is Su She ... he’s likely to take the same “This LWJ photo is 絕了” to mean the Mariana Trench kind of Absolute—the bottom of the bottom, the Unbeatable, Adjective-Defying Worst.

絕了 allows for that understanding too.

In this scenario, I interpret Gg’s 絕了 as taking the meaning of both extremes (which make it a fantastic phrase choice!): that Gg thought Dd and the team members were being both the Absolute Best (for thinking of Gg, caring for him) AND the Absolute Worst (for going against his wish to not eat!) Gg’s 絕了 also signals defeat; if Dd and his team members were The Absolute ... Whatever, then poor Gg had no choice but to yield to their wishes. I can already imagine his “I can’t believe I lose this way” Look (see: every rock-paper-scissors he lost, which was ... pretty much all of them), mixed with, perhaps, a healthy amount of bunny tooth warning (how dare Dd et al banded up against him)...

Those bunny teeth had to be taken care of, right? And so Dd went on to say lychees being good omen that ensure things would go smoothly for the eater... targeting Gg’s being a, as c-turtles call it, 小迷信 (literally, “Little Superstitious”, a young + adorable + superstitious person). Dd said that to help Gg justify the choice to eat, to make Gg feel better about his defeat.

(Of note: I had actually never heard of lychees being associated with good luck before, and a quick search online also didn’t yield any result. This could be a relatively rare association Google failed to catch ... or something Dd made up on the fly to make Gg happy.)

(Lychees have, however, been associated with romance. If Emperor’s Smile 天子笑 was The Love Drink in The Untamed, then what is Concubine’s Smile 妃子笑? Answer: it’s the RL name of a type of lychees, lychees being the fruit very much adored by Yang Yuhuan 楊玉環, the consort of the Emperor Xuanzong (685-762 BCE) of the Tang Dynasty and one of the four most beautiful woman in Chinese history. Since lychees had only been grown in southern China, the emperor had had the fruit couriered, in express mode involving many horses, to the palace up north to please his favourite wife. Lychees had become a symbol of love from that historical tale.)

Did Gg get Dd’s message then, the love and care packaged in those peeled, sweet fruit awaiting his bite? Yes, but not without a little more fight! “Eat eat eat, (I’ll eat) until you go bankrupt” is a literal translation of his final line. Tonally, I can see the following as being an alternative translation:

“Fine fine fine. I’ll eat, it’s not like I can bankrupt you by eating anyway!”

If it sounded a little sulky, that’s because it did ... a little sulky AND fiery. As expected from our favourite Chongqing Big Pepper 😂😂😂 (Poor Gg).

Dd smiled at that, needless to say. He won!!! He got Gg to eat!! The world shall rejoice!!

p5. “Showtime”

There’s a show coming up for Dd (the YH concert maybe?), and Gg offered suggestions.

The sweet point of this segment is about half-way down the conversation, in the piece of paper 📄 Gg gave to Dd (after “This is for you.”). Dd took the paper, noted the many words on it, and started saying 我把我整個靈魂, translated as “I bring my entire soul”.

c-Turtles have, based on these words, hypothesised that Dd was about to read out a quote that Gg had written on the paper, with the list of items Gg thought Dd should take, before Gg stopped him with a call of his name (“WYB”). The quote was included on the translation (”I give you my entire soul...only, a little good, love you.”) I have also talked about the same quote, in more detail, here.

I’m equally stumped on the final line of this segment. (Sorry!!)

p6. “Found Family”

It’s a heartwarming segment. While LRLG had previously noted that the TTXS bros had communicated with Gg, this segment made clear that they care for him like they do for Dd ~ as family.

* dls mailed Gg a lot of fruit for sharing with the film crew. “Family member needs to be impressive” is a rough translation, but this line does defy simple translation because 排面 a highly cultural concept that has much to do with the equally complex, Chinese concept of face (which this article explains... somewhat adequately). The message to take home is that dls cared enough about Gg that he wanted to make sure Gg wouldn’t lose face in front of the film crew; that, by having enough gifts (fruits) for everyone, Gg wouldn’t be viewed as cheap or inadequate or stingy, or whatever adjective that wouldn’t befit his top idol status. Because dls saw Gg as a member of his family.

* The prescription from hg had been mentioned in a previous LRLG rumour. 方子 is a Chinese medicine prescription, which, unlike Western formulations, is individualised both to the discomfort / ailment and to the “body constitution” of the person who'll take it, the latter deciding the kind of ailments the person is susceptible to, and which ingredients are expected to be more effective. Chinese medicine also places a strong emphasises on long-term conditioning, whether it’s for recovery from a certain condition or for general good health. A good 方子 is therefore a far more complex and personal thing than, say, a scribble of “paracetamol” / “acetaminophen” on a piece of paper. :D

* fg’s gift for Gg (xx) is something for the waist. A brace support, maybe? For example?

My favourite line in this segment is when hg asked what will Gg and Dd do when they reach hg’s age. Given that the last two items (the prescription and xx) were health-related, I interpreted it as hg worrying about Gg and Dd’s health when they grow old... with all the health problems they already have. It’s the kind of thing a worried parent say to their children ~ my mom has said the same thing to me as well. 😢

p6. “The Cat Paw”

Not quite sure what’s happening here ... not sure what the cat paw is. (Sorry!!) But that é in the translation is Dd’s signature laugh (collection here), which is written as 鵝 (”Goose”) in Chinese 😂.

p7. “The Cat Toy”

Dd appeared to be shopping for a cat’s toy (something that can “hook the cat” in the translation, such that the cat can entertain itself and not rely on human companionship as much). Gg had already bought the toy though and sounded quite proud of it, told Dd to return the toy. The implied cat was, of course, Nut (堅果 Jianguo)... which had been repeatedly referred to in LRLG’s posts as Gg’s daughter.

p7. “Cool vs Cute”

Gg is often viewed as cute, and Dd as cool. Did Dd dislike Gg taking cute pictures for public consumption? Were they scheming an exchange of image? :D

And that’s it for this issue! Ooh, this took unexpectedly long ... I apologise for the ridiculous delay between the original post and this commentary!

(I wrote half of it, then RL struck and I forgot about it.) (I’m hopeless.) (I need a 方子 for poor memory!!)

#pie eats candies #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx #LRLG

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younghosfavewhore · 4 years

Text

mine forever . 1:27am

part 1 [a] / part 2 [s]

wc; 1.5k

plot; nctjohnny!boyfriend x femreader!girlfriend

the members of nct have been stirred up in dating rumors and scandals for the past month. when pictures of johnny meeting with a childhood friend begin to float around, you must remind johhny that he’s yours. forever.

prompts; [a]6 “She was nothing to you, was she? Then prove it.” [a]20 “People talk- people will always talk...”

warnings; (mentions of TAEYONG’s injury) fluff?!, jealous reader, angsty!!!

My eyes skim over the articles. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The headlines seemed to drag on forever, “Johnny Suh; NCT’s 5th member involved in Dating Scandal”. Another read, “NCT Johnny Caught with Foreigner; Photos Below”

photos?

I couldn’t resist clicking the link that my cursor hovered over. The full article was now displayed onto my screen. The pictures loaded for a second, then they were displayed before me. And there it was, Johnny Suh -my Johnny Suh- at a cafe with a blonde-haired foreigner. I continued scrolling, which was probably a mistake, but I was in shock. Certainly they were doctored by some vengeful sasaeng. Another link pops onto my screen, “NCT Johnny Suh has Foreign Girlfriend? VIDEO FOOTAGE”

you’re fucking kidding me.

A notification sound blares from my phone, the sixth one in the past half hour. I haven’t even picked up my phone, I know what the notifications are. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Johnny texting me a sad excuse for the video that’s now playing on a loop on my screen. I recognized her. Her blonde hair and small frame. It was his high school sweetheart; Madison. In the video -which was only about 8 seconds long- you could see him embrace her. They stood at the cafe table, drinks in hand, about to depart. Johnny’s long arms then spread out, welcoming her into a hug. He initiated it. Even in front of all these people, all these cameras. He hugged her. He knew exactly what he was doing. Another notification sound blared through my phone speaker. Why did this make me feel so threatened? So weak? I pick up my phone <6 unread texts from johnny❤> I open the messages, taking a deep breath as I do so.

johnny❤: baby?

y/n? text me when you get this.

ik you see my texts

i know you’re upset please just text me

i can explain, i promise…

im omw to the hotel, we’ll talk when i get there, ok?

My eyes widen at the last text. Why was he on his way here? What made him think that I wanted to see him?

me: dont bother, i dont think i want to see you rn

I send the text with tears welling in my eyes. I was just beginning to fully wrap my head around the events that unfolded before me.

*ding* <1 new text from johnny❤>

johnny❤: please, y/n

you know me better than anyone, don’t believe these rumors, y/n

Me: i saw the pictures johnny… and the video. what excuse could you have?

My head began to spin, no way did he think I was going to fall for his pity story.

johnny❤: this is why we’ll talk in person

i have a lot of explaining to do, i know. just listen to me please

i’m only 2 minutes away, ill explain everything i promise

Take a deep breath. I think to myself, convincing myself that maybe he would have a good excuse. After all, it's Johnny. Would he ever do anything to hurt me? I struggled to gain composure as I heard a familiar knock on the door. The lock clicked and the door crept open. I stood in the living room of the homey suite.

“y/n..” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence. He peeks from behind the door.

My eyes meet his and I feel faint. What’s going to happen? I ask myself, not knowing the right answer as hundreds of thoughts fill my head.

He continues inside, closing the door softly behind him. He takes slow strides in my direction, and that’s when the tears well in my eyes. Why? I’m not sure, I’ve always been one to get overwhelmed easily, but this was new. His hand reaches out to take mine and I flinch away. The images of him taking another girl into his arms flashing in my head.

“Why her? How--” My voice breaks and the tears finally fall from my eyes.

“It’s not at all what you think it is, baby.” His voice was soft and genuine. Almost desperate.

“Then what is it? Huh?” My voice changed from calm to angry. I took a deep breath in an attempt to try to calm myself back down and I back farther away from him. “I... I was patient. I knew this would happen. I was understanding of the rumors, the lies. But this? These pictures? These videos?” I began to lose my cool. “How could you possibly explain this?” Anger was tainting my words, what was I saying? “If you want to be with her then just say that.” I spit the words out.

Johnny looks taken aback, rightfully so. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it, Johnny?!” I shouted, menacingly. “It isn’t adding up.” I plead as my voice cracks. “Please, just fucking explain yourself.”

He walks towards me again, I don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. He takes my hand and places a light kiss on it.

“I know you’re confused. I know you’re angry.” He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. “People talk. In this industry, people talk so fucking much.” His tone was so gentle; he was hurt but still so gentle with me. “People will always talk, okay, y/n?”

I nod, tears streaming down my face at this point.

“I’m in the wrong here. You saw the videos, I know, but there’s more to it than that.” He sits me down next to him on the couch.

“I just don’t understand.” My voice trembles. “With the other members, Doyoung, Mark, it was just gossip, easily dismissed. But…” My voice trails off.

“I know.” He sighs and pulls me close to him. “Those pictures were taken completely out of context.” where is he going with this? “Yes, it was Madison. And I’m sorry for meeting up with her without telling you, especially with everything that’s been going on…” He traced his fingers in small circles along my back, something he often did when he needed to calm me down. He sighs and pulls me closer to him, we sit in silence for a bit before he continues. “As you know, Taeyong… His injury?”

I nod my head against his chest. “I know…” I whisper in response. what does that have to do with anything?

“Well… Madison, when I met with her at the cafe,” He paused, awaiting a reaction but I didn’t give one. I wanted to hear him out. He continues, “She moved here a few months ago. It has nothing to do with me, or NCT as a whole.” He disclaims. “She’s studying abroad here for a journalist internship. She’s-”

“Get to the point,” I whisper, barely being able to hear him ramble on about her.

He places a kiss on the top of my head. “Everyone knew about Yong’s injury; the managers, the staff, even the stage crew noticed it.” I wince a bit at the thought of Taeyong having to deal with this kind of injury. “You were busy with studies and I didn’t want you worrying about me or the boys. I vented to Madison about it. She explained that she had ties to news sources that could have exposed SM for overworking him. So…” He sighs, “She threatened SM. Unless they gave us all a break or hiatus, she threatened to report it to national broadcasting stations.”

“Wait-” I interrupt him, the puzzle pieces finally fitting together in my head.

“Let me finish.” He cuts me off in return. “I wanted to treat her to coffee while she was still in town, as a thank you. Nothing more. Because of her, me and the boys were able to finally get a break and Taeyong is finally getting rest.” He explains.

im such a fucking idiot, i think to myself.

I was speechless, how could I have been this stupid. I finally built up the courage to look up at him; his eyes scanning my face for a reaction.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can mutter out in my state of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. I promised to be transparent about this stuff and instead I hid it from you. I’m in the wrong too. I’m sorry.” He replies, softly. His hands trailed up and down my back.

I look into his eyes again, begging for forgiveness without saying a single word. He got the hint and leaned in to press a soft peck to my lips.

“I love you,” I said, my lips brushing against his as our foreheads rested on each other.

He smiles before kissing me back. “I love you, too.”

“So, she means nothing?” The sudden, whispered, inquiry was cold in the quiet air.

There was a pause, a moment that I nearly regretted asking.

“She means nothing.” He said, his voice was gruff and direct.

“Then prove it.” The words rolled off my tongue, and before I had time to think, Johnny’s lips were pressed back up against mine.

#johnnysuh #kpop #nct #nct127 #youngho #kpopangst #angst #this was gonna be smut but ??#i feel like the angst aspect is 10x better #unless a smutty pt 2 is needed #hmmm😏😏#ponderinggg #johnnyangst #nct angst #this is veryyyy different from my normal writing style so i hope its not too #...#bad

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

Two Halves - Chapter Seventeen (Zuko x Reader)

Chapter 16 - Part 1 - Part 2

Word Count: 2,130

Author’s Note: All I’m gonna say is that I think my exposition sucks, but here it is, the plot has returned (Alexa play Edge of Seventeen)

News of your newfound comfort with your husband sweeps silently and swiftly throughout the palace following your return from Ember Island, the sideways glances you receive from diplomats and servants alike impossible to overlook. Those mulling about the corridors gawk as you leave your quarters beside Zuko each morning, whispers muttered over the scandal that you now sleep in the same bed; eyes widen when you brazenly peck his lips in the company of others, and cheeks redden when his hand is spied resting shamefully low on your waist. Neither of you mind the reproachful attention, however - you want your love to be seen.

Of course, it’s a short matter time before the council gets involved in the affair, your advisors calling a meeting less than a week after your return to berate you about the newest stain on your public image.

“It’s disgraceful!” rages one of Yong’s aides, tossing his arms about as he shoots himself out of his seat. “The Firelord and lady are figures of authority - not foolish teenage lovers! Do you have any idea how idiotic this makes you look to the nation? To the world??”

“Hakoda loved his wife publicly,” you flatly answer, taking a tauntingly unbothered sip of the tea laid out before you. “He’s still a very respected leader, both in the Southern Water Tribe and in other parts of the world.”

“Chief Hakoda’s wife held no power,” the aide spits. He leans menacingly over the table towards you, clenching his fists. “You are no longer a weak, sheltered Water Tribe woman. You’re queen of one of the strongest governments to ever exist - you need to damn well act like it.”

You shift your gaze towards the man, fixing him with a subtle, cutting glare that makes him pale. You feel the weight of your betrothal necklace at your throat, the force pushing you upward to stand at eye level with him.

“I was never weak,” you state. “I was never sheltered. I watched Fire Nation soldiers murder my parents when I was six years old, and supported an entire village in my siblings’ absence when they left to fight with the Avatar. I willingly left my home to marry a stranger for the betterment of my people; do not call me weak for learning to love him.”

A heavy silence falls over the room, a dozen sets of eyes trained on you. You stand, unwavering, unblinking, staring at the aide who challenged you; he sets his jaw, refusing to lower himself. Yong comes up beside him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What Jenshi means,” she sternly justifies, “is that there are still many people in the Fire Nation who are loyal to Ozai, who are used to a Firelord and lady that operate as a political alliance rather than a traditional marriage; those people may view your affections as a sign of weakness and attempt to take advantage of it.”

“Yes,” Jenshi mutters, lowering his shoulders as he calms himself. “And with all due respect, my lady, we still don’t know who we can trust. The threat may still very well be within the palace walls.”

You and Zuko turn to each other, sharing a noiseless, worried look; he takes your hand, squeezing it tightly as he addresses the entire room, lowering you back to his side.

“What do the other sectors have to say?” he questions. “Military?”

“The general consensus so far is that the military doesn’t care,” answers Counselor Chin. “Your superior skill as a warrior is revered, and the Firelady has proven a great leader in regards to our decolonization efforts. Your personal lives are of no concern to us, and we are primed to defend you against all existing dangers.”

“Ethically there are a few problems,” chimes Advisor Shi, head of the Integrity Committee. “Your actions go against what has been culturally accepted since before Sozin’s reign; a Firelord and lady aren’t meant to be publicly affectionate with one another, no matter how they may feel for each other beyond the nation’s eye.”

Zuko hums, nodding.

“I understand,” he responds. “But we are trying to move away from the traditional monarchy. We’ve already established that we don’t want any children we have to be forced into their roles, and public reception was relatively accepting. What could it hurt for us to be honest about our feelings for each other?”

“It brings us back to concerns over dissent,” Yong interjects. “As Jinshi said, we’re no closer to understanding who was behind Counselor Fen’s murder or what their intentions are; we can’t let them use your emotions as leverage.”

“Has word really spread that quickly?” you ask her, fear beginning to quake in the center of your chest. “They’re talking about it outside the palace?”

“No,” Jinshi replies, “but it will soon. If there are actors within the palace, we assume they already know and will attempt to play your intimacy with each other to their advantage.”

Zuko’s body stiffens, the corners of his lips turning downward into a grave, shadowed grimace. He nods in concession, but doesn’t let go of your hand.

“We’ll watch ourselves,” he affirms, clutching your palm tighter within his. “In the meantime, I want everyone within the palace’s actions to be heavily monitored. No one is safe if we’re not.”

After the meeting, you and Zuko take lunch together, choosing the unromantic and relatively public setting of a stateroom outside your private wing of the palace. Anxiety causes your stomach to churn like the ocean in a storm, hindering your appetite so that you only pick at your food - you notice that Zuko does the same.

“... I visited the physician this morning,” you tell him, breaking the uneasy stagnance. “She said the medicine worked - I’m not pregnant.”

“Good,” Zuko murmurs. His hand is raised to his chin, his voice distant as he keeps his pensive gaze aimed at an empty space on the table before you. “One less thing we have to worry about.”

“What’s on your mind?” you ask.

“The attacks,” Zuko relays. “They’re not… normal.”

“Normal how?”

Zuko sighs, folding his arms in front of him as he continues to ponder, his brow furrowing in search of the correct words.

“... They’re not what my father would do,” he says after a pause. “He wouldn’t utilize outsiders like the Dai Li, or kill an indirect target just to make a statement. That’s what Azula would do.”

“... So you think she was behind it?” you guess. “They could have been her ideas, but the fact that she took herself out means that there had to have been someone else.”

“Exactly,” Zuko agrees. “And that’s what’s confusing. The only person she ever feared was our father, but after he abandoned her during the comet, she hated him. Everything we have from her investigation supports that. She’d never be allegiant to him.”

“But who else could have convinced her?” you wonder. “What else? Threatening her life clearly didn’t mean anything, and she renounced her loyalty to the Fire Nation when she was arrested. Do you think that… that maybe someone told her they were trying to overthrow you? That they offered to let her take your place?”

“Azula was like our father. If she wanted to take over, she would’ve just taken over. She never would have taken the throne if it were offered.”

“So… she wasn’t the one leading the attacks… but her pride kept her from bending to anyone’s will but her own. What was her place, then?”

“I think she just wanted me dead,” Zuko admits. “Whoever approached her, they asked for her help in killing me. They gave her the opportunity to exact her revenge in a way that destroyed me little by little, the way she wanted to see it happen.”

“... But Ozai and his supporters don’t operate that way,” you recall.

“ They don’t,” Zuko echos. “They take by force.”

You meet his eyes, a deep, tumbling chasm bottoming out in your stomach, the shockwave reverberating through your body. Your limbs feel limp, your head dizzy.

“It’s not the Fire Nation,” you realize.

The words come out in a quiet gasp, carried by what little breath you can manage to force from your lungs. Zuko’s expression falls gravely blank; he reaches for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips without thought or care to who could see.

“It’s not the Fire Nation,” he repeats. “Which means… there might be no one we can trust.”

The door to your bedroom slides open and sputters shut behind you, indicating Zuko’s entrance; bent over, fumbling with the ties on your robes, you don't turn to greet him, but instead share the message you got that afternoon.

“Toph is coming,” you announce. “She heard about Azula and is worried about our safety, so she's bringing a group of-”

You cease completely as you face the man standing in front of the doorway, horrified to find that he isn't your husband.

“I must say, you really know how to upset things,” Advisor Xiang sneers, pacing slowly towards you.

You take a few steps back, cornering yourself back against the nearest wall; in the waist of your robes, Suki’s fan presses harshly to your side, too hidden for you to reach without alerting your intruder.

“Get out,” you quip. “Get out before I call the guards.”

“Make one sound and this knife will end up in your neck,” Xiang threatens. He raises a blade from his hip, holding it menacingly level with your throat; as he closes in on you, he lets it graze your skin, his gaunt, sunken face glaring down at you like a demon summoned from the darkest corner of hell.

“You were supposed to run, little girl,” he drawls on. “You were supposed to die in Ba Sing Se. None of this - this love you have for the Firelord, your flirting with the possibility of continuing his bloodline - was ever supposed to happen. And we can't let it happen.”

“Who is ‘we’?” you demand. You try to make your voice firm, unshaken, but it quivers in your mouth, causing Xiang to release a belittling chuckle.

“You won't find that out,” he taunts. “I've come to discuss the terms of your punishment. You see, since you defied everything we expected of you, we’re going to make you do what we planned to do months ago - you're going to kill Zuko.”

Bile rises to the back of your throat, your gut seizing in a panicked, terrified hitch. You shake your head, quickly and minutely, tears starting to sear the corners of your eyes.

“No,” you detest. “I won't do it. We’ll stop you.”

“You will do it,” Xiang hisses, “because if he isn't dead within the next seven days, your entire family - that bumbling brother, his wife, your sister and her precious little family, even your father - will die instead.”

He removes the dagger from your neck, grinning tauntingly, maliciously, as he slips it into the loose breast of your robes. His touch sickens you, but you're too petrified to force him back.

“And don't you dare try reaching out for help,” he snarls. “We have informants throughout the palace - we’ll know every move you make, and if anyone gets word of this, your loved ones will all perish, and this time you’ll have no one to take you in.”

It's only when Xiang releases you do you realize he had a hold on your wrist, gripping you so tightly that he leaves flaming red marks on your skin. Tears bubble down your cheeks, a sob lodged in your throat that you refuse to let go.

“Why are you doing this?” you plead.

You don't know why you expect him to answer honestly - you don't know why you expect him to answer at all. He smirks, showing the ugly, yellowed points of his irregularly sharp canines.

“Because Zuko would have been better off dead when Ozai gave him that scar,” he replies. “His is a family of sociopaths and murders, my dear - we must end the cycle before it repeats itself.”

Xiang slips through the door he ambushed you from, and you're left alone in your terror. Fingers shaking, you take the knife from your robes and hide it under the mattress, your mind racing as you try to figure out what you can possibly do to save the people you love.

You're in bed by the time Zuko returns, the lights turned out and your body hidden beneath the blankets, too shaken to face him. As he lays down beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nestling into the comfort of your body, all you can feel is the blade beneath you, slicing your side as ruthlessly as if you were the one sentenced to death.

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neutron-stars-collision · 2 years

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 11 - Hold No Harm

Masterlist; Chapter 10 Summary: What happens after you make a crucial discovery about Bruce and chaos drags Gotham into a deeper circle of hell? Warnings: Slightly suggestive themes (16+? Yeah, something like that), canon-typical violence, swearing. Author's Notes: Oof this is a long one (7.5k) and I'm sorry. Also that it took so long. And that I left you all on a little bit of a cliffhanger. I hope this one makes up for a little bit ;)))) The second half of it especially, since it was another scene that would not leave me alone till I wrote it down. So do hope you'll enjoy that 😌 Thank you to everyone that's still here, reading my updates and waiting for new chapter. And also to everyone joining now and giving me (and my idiots) a chance 💕 Enjoy! Let me know what you think? Taglist: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

You never had the time to maul over the discovery. Before you could pinpoint the exact moment, Bruce scrambled onto his feet and watched, his face drawn tight as the car doors opened abruptly. The cops raised their guns, encircling the vehicle and shielding the crowd, a chorus of yells followed, urgent and chaotic. The car was covered with strange markings, as though forming words and slogans and assuring you that this too was the work of Riddler.

They did not have to threaten the driver, for he left the car on his own, first with hands raised in surrender, followed by a formally dressed body, once-pristinely white shirt, and suit trousers. It took you an additional beat to realise who you were looking at. Gil Colson, the district attorney. The same one that was only just the topic of a heated conversation between the reporters outside. Apparently, he had gone missing last night, having never made it back home.

The shocked gasp that ripped through the gathering confirmed the rumour.

“There’s a bomb around his neck!” the terrified scream was next, making you take a few paces back along with everyone else, the heart pounding in your chest.

It was there; an ominous blinking collar on the man’s neck, drawing your attention like bait. His mouth was taped, with that familiar phrase scribbled upon the plastic: ‘No More Lies’, forcing the muffled protests to go unheard. The bloodied and bruised face told the story of a struggle, making you wince as you took in the details, feeling your mind spin. In his hand, the same silver tape kept the simple black smartphone fixed to the palm as if it were to play a role in the ploy. As the tears streaked down Colson’s face, fear evident in his eyes, he pointed to the final prop. A yellow envelope stuck to his chest, adorned with three words: ‘To the Batman’. Your gaze flicked to Bruce on its own accord, somehow knowing that he noticed it. And that it meant something to him.

The phone started ringing. You ducked as if following the crowd instinct. All around you, the people started screaming and panicking, spilling out of the building before the police could stop them. Save for the cops, there was only one person that did not give in to the hysteria. Bruce was still watching Colson, noticing how the man pointed at the envelope and raised his hand with the phone in a clear signal. The doubts disappeared from your mind. It had to be him.

“Let’s clear this place out now!” a cop, Jim Gordon as your memory offered, gave a shout, and the rest of the gathering did not wait to hear it twice.

You were shoved and pushed as the crowd rushed to leave the building, madness taking over care or manners. Loitering by the steps leading up to the balcony, you turned around to look at Bruce again. He did not seem scared as his eyes took in the scene for the last time and gave in to the officer urging him to move on. You knew he would be back. And the best bet you had was to follow him. Only that was easier said than done with the chaos unfolding. You allowed the stream of people to drag you along and out to the square, filling up with GCPD cars and horse guards. Above you could hear the distant whirring of the helicopters circling the area. There would be no peaceful Sunday evening for Gotham.

Scanning the horizon for a flash of that expensive black coat, you nearly let out a gleeful squeal when you did find him. That was only half of the job done, however. Another was to catch up with his long strides and not get lost or noticed by Bruce. Pushing through the people, you did all you could to stay hidden behind someone else, away from his line of sight. And it did work for some time. You saw Bruce round the corner, heading towards the car park before you collided with a woman walking in the opposite direction. She was on the phone, not once checking whether the path was clear. It wasn’t.

By the time you found your bearings (and let out an angry rant towards the woman’s back), Bruce was nowhere to be found. The irritating voice at the back of your head insisted you should find the Corvette, which would likely get you to him, but you silenced it. You wanted proof to back the theory, not a way for Bruce to stop trusting you. With a resigned sigh, you turned back towards City Hall, immediately spotting the makeshift media pen. Guarded with metal railings and distanced from the steps by at least five metres, it seemed like the perfect place to wait for the unfolding of events. You knew Bruce would show up. Or, rather, that Vengeance would.

Once the GC-ESU unit had been called in, preparing the equipment to dismantle the bomb, you could feel the tension rise. The endless chatter filling the air rose in tone, making it harder to turn your ear away from the whispers and gossip. Everyone knew it was the Riddler’s doing. Colson was his next victim because he, too, belonged to the corrupted underworld of Gotham’s finest. The rumour was that the attorney would accept bribes to bring an end to cases the involved wanted to be silenced. That and the frequent visits to the Iceberg Lounge put him in the line of fire, and you could not find specs of sympathy in the depths of your heart. Unless the sappers could not help him… Unable to process the awful thought, you closed your eyes.

Opening them only when the background noises told you the robot had been sent in to give valuable information about the bomb and how it can be detonated and dismantled without harm. While there was hardly any footage for the press to watch, you followed the police reactions to judge the situation. The suspense hung thick in the air, rising towards something unknown. Until you heard it. Curses rippled through the police force. A new whisper. The masked vigilante. Your heart gave a painful squeeze as if knowing something you did not.

“Your guy’s gonna get himself killed in there,” it was Mackenzie, swearing at Gordon as if the latter was responsible for Vengeance’s actions.

If not for the fear in your veins, you would have laughed.

That was as close to proof as you could have received. Bruce disappeared, and Batman showed up. Clear as day. Or night, rather. Which, among others, meant that from now you held your breath in worry. Because the bastard was reckless. The scars were there to prove it.

From the chatter unravelling around you, you could tell that the ringing phone in Colson’s hand was meant for Bruce. He picked it up and tried to talk to the Riddler. Judging by the gasps, the outcome of that conversation would be the deciding force in the attorney’s well-being. The pulse pounded in your ears as you tightened the palms into fists inside your coat pockets. You always hated feeling utterly helpless, unable to influence the events. Sitting and waiting was never a forte, so to speak. You preferred to act or turn your back on it. Forget, stop caring. But, sometimes, it was too late for that.

Suddenly, a journalist standing next to you raised his phone and pointed at the screen with overexcited ramble:

“He’s streaming it! Facetime with the bat guy!” between one paralyzed beat and the next you understood what he meant.

Riddler was streaming the call with Bruce, showing the whole of Gotham and beyond the trial he prepared.

“We’re live. They’re here to watch our little trial. At the moment, the man across from you, Mr Colson, is dead,” he spoke to the smartphone camera, showing the other side of the conversation.

A chill ran down your spine, panicked brain scrambling for logic and finding the familiar blue eyes instead, only now encircled with black eyeshadow and hidden behind the cowl. But it was him. How could you have missed it when you?

Unable to focus on what was unfolding, you only caught bits and pieces from the stream. It was evident the Riddler had earned his name for a reason. It was a game of riddles with the highest of stakes. But Colson was not alone. Bruce got the first answer, offering the keyword: “Justice” with a gravelly tone, making his presence known.

Colson failed justice as Mitchell and Savage did. The realization made you curse quietly. You should have known. Should have foreseen this. Another riddle played in the background, giving you a second answer you did not know you were seeking. Ten grand. That was the price for Colson’s silence. A bitter scoff rose in your throat, adding anger to the mix. Anger and loathing towards the attorney.

“Since your justice is so select, please tell us which vermin you’re paid to protect” that was the third riddle.

Seeing confusion written all around, you knew what question was there to ask Bruce next time you see him. What parts of the case was he keeping from you? Probably many, given that the following conversation about ‘rats’ and informants only caused more bewilderment. You shook your head, unable to focus on the stream, feeling the precious seconds tick away with every moment passed.

Colson did not want to answer the question. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched Bruce coax him into giving out the name but to no avail.

“It’s so much bigger than you could ever imagine. It’s the whole system!” the man was in hysterics now, making peace with the fact that he was going to die.

Any second now.

As though following your thoughts, the Riddler started a countdown in an elated tone, a terrifying metaphor of the New Year’s Eve tradition in a sense. The breath died in your throat as the collar started beeping erratically.

“Goodbye!” the farewell shut down the stream as the explosion rocked the building in front of you.

The initial bang was followed by clamour as people all around you again kicked into a panic. Screaming and whimpers filled the ringing silence as you stood your ground, staring wide-eyed at the smoke coming out the doorway and broken windows. As the GCPD rushed in, you turned your back on the scene and pushed through the people to exit the media pen.

The unshed tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you pulled the coat tighter and kept walking. He had to be alright. He just had to.

And there was only one place where you could wait for news.

***

The part of Gotham by the Wayne Tower was strangely quiet. As if unaware of the recent events, people rushed to bars or their homes, hoping to catch a final drink and rest before Monday. You had to be different, walking up the stream, the keys to the tower clutched in your hand.

The ghostly shadows in the foyer were enough to bring back that familiar feeling of dread, filling every empty cavern of your heart. Enough to make you pass through the space in two steps and barge into the elevator with the breath still held in your throat. You did not dare check the news feed while on the train, afraid that if you found anything regarding him, you would not make it. Alfred would know; you were sure of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was another reason for coming here, one that you did not want to acknowledge. Alfred, Dory, and most importantly Bruce made you feel at home, almost like a family you lost twenty years ago and never even tried to replace. The thought of being near them was comforting. So that is what you did, retreating when the times got tough.

The fireplace in the study was alight, the orange flames dancing against the stonework and throwing fascinating shapes all around the walls. The armchair nearest to the fire was occupied. With the laptop in his lap and wearing a cosy sweater Alfred looked strangely out of place. Clearing your throat, you walked further into the room, waiting for the man to raise his head and acknowledge you:

“Hello,” with the voice strangely hoarse, you offered him a shy nod before continuing, “I’m probably not the one you expected to see back here, but…” you faltered, questioning the decision to return already.

You never had the time to back off, for as soon as Pennyworth noticed you, he put away the laptop and stood up. Before you knew what was happening, you had been enveloped in a tight hug. A fatherly hug. Tears stung in your eyes as you returned the embrace hesitatingly, breathing in the scent of old books and fireplace. Stepping away, Alfred measured you intently, checking for injuries and anything else amiss. Once he found nothing, he exclaimed with palpable relief:

“Oh, thank god you’re alright” another arm squeeze before he sat back in the armchair, gesturing for you to join him, “Were you there when…” he trailed off, worry visible in the depths of the blue-grey eyes.

The lines on his forehead have deepened, contrasting the morning. You did not need to see his laptop screen to know he was watching. He must have seen it happen too.

“When the car barged in? Yeah” nodding, you looked down at the wooden floor to find necessary courage, getting out the words that were begging to be said “Bruce saved Mitchell’s kid” Alfred hummed quietly, easing the nerves into rambling that once started could not be easily stopped; especially when fueled with pain and frustration, “It’s the Riddler again, all of it. And now Colson’s dead and we should have known. That’s exactly what we tried to find out. And we fucked it” chuckling bitterly, you added, “Well mostly I did” ending on a dejected sigh, you met his gaze again.

Expecting to see the reflection of your disappointment. Perhaps anger, too. But there was nothing like that found in Alfred’s face.

“You did the best you could” the conviction in his tone was terrifying.

As was the warm smile sent in your direction. As if he actually believed that. You could not let him. You were not worth it.

“You don’t know that” quickly shooting down the softness, you chose the perfect moment to hint at what could no longer stay silent, “Perhaps I should’ve stopped Bruce from getting himself blown up just now” this time, you did not drop your gaze, eager to see the butler’s reaction.

He could not hide the shock and the double take, mouth opening to protest but finding no words for it.

“That wasn’t-” the lack of imagination in the answer made you roll your eyes at him, interjecting to cut the chase.

There was no point in pretending. It might have been the stress or the worry still gnawing at the core of your heart, but you no longer cared to remain neutral. It did not matter if someone could get offended. You had to stand your ground on this one.

“Don’t bullshit me, Alfred,” glaring at him with ill-disguised frustration, you elaborated, “I like you, and I think that sometimes Bruce doesn’t deserve you, but… I know everything” you could a flash of panic in Pennyworth’s eyes, adding the impetus to keep going “I know what he does every night. I know why he has make-up wipes in his bathroom and why he cares about criminal cases in this godforsaken city” the emotions took over as your fist collided with the armrest to punch the anger into the object.

The rant worked if the silence that followed was an answer to your bold claims. Alfred let out a long, heavy exhale as if needing to compose himself after your outburst and measured you with a cool, dark gaze:

“Perhaps you should come back in the morning?” he did not mean it as a question, glancing expectantly at the darkness outside and adding, “Bruce isn’t here right now,” obviously.

That was the last straw. Groaning loudly, you looked him point blank in the eyes and quipped:

“Oh, I know he isn’t here” the sharp edge in your voice was another reason to lean back in the chair and shrug, proclaiming for everyone to hear that this time, you were letting your stubbornness decide, “But I’m going to sit and wait for him to come back. And there’s nothing you can do about it” fully aware of the teenage tantrum connotations of the statement, you crossed your arms over the chest and turned your gaze back towards the dancing flames.

Alfred did not try to change your mind. The last you heard from him was a loud sigh, and then doors closed. A little later, you were roused from the daydreams with the sound of a mug being placed on the coffee table in front. A steaming tea and cookies were laid out on the porcelain plate. Pennyworth left before you could thank him.

***

You did not count the hours you had been waiting for him to return. Watching the clock tick away the time would do nothing but increase the worries. You had enough of those already, so instead, you picked up a book from the vast library shelves and sat by the fireplace, hoping the narrative would do the trick.

It did work. Only the occasional clock chimes were able to rouse you from the book, making you look up to the window. It was a strangely rainless night for Gotham, with the deep inky sky filled with stars and clouds. You did not dare check the news, indulging in ignorance for as long as the world would allow you.

You were halfway through the book when the elevator creaked, and the crate was pushed open. Somehow you knew that it was not Alfred nor Dory this time. You closed the book and held your breath, unable to make that first move. Not this time.

“Alfred?” the tentative whisper was a starter.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you stood up quietly and stepped into the circle of light in the study. Even from your subjective viewpoint, Bruce looked terrible.

“It’s not Alfred I’m afraid” before he could speak, you raised your hand in a small wave and grinned, feeling the remains of worry melt away like snow in spring.

Only the uncertainty was left. Pushing aside the nagging thoughts, you let your gaze wander over him. He changed out of the suit and was wearing the usual black jeans and t-shirt combo. It was his face that concerned you more, however. Apart from the look of utter bafflement upon your presence in the room, it was impossible not to notice the bruises and cuts. Whatever happened to him since you lost sight of Bruce in the crowd must have been awful.

“What… What are you doing here?” the blue eyes were blown wide with unease.

Bruce took half a step back, making you discover he was limping. Slightly, yet still. The stutter and the fondness you felt in your chest were enough to help you find the courage.

“Waiting for you,” you shrugged as if should have been obvious and closed the gap, exaggerated joy hidden in the lopsided grin, “Our date, remember?” Bruce blinked twice, caught aback, and you decided it was the perfect moment to take hold of his hands, squeezing them lightly, “And also… we’ve got to talk” the sombre note was best dropped early.

The crease between his eyebrows deepened, assuring that Bruce understood (and was already terrified). But he did not let go of your palms.

“I… I’m not sure if this is the right time… You’ve seen what happened today” his eyes nervously darted from your face to the window and back again, betraying the restlessness, “I should go through the events and-” ignoring the desire to roll your eyes, you stopped his ramble with your objection.

“It wasn’t your fault,” softly yet with enough confidence to challenge him not to oppose it.

You believed it. Probably more than anything else at that moment.

“What?” Bruce uttered the question without any conviction whatsoever.

You could see it in his eyes, the desire to ignore what you meant because maybe that would be easier. And the fear you saw right through any act he tried to put on.

You did. Your grip over his hands tightened slightly.

“Colson. He chose death over facing the consequences of his actions” you did not turn away when he flinched, unable to meet your gaze and hear the truth; still, you softened the tone to add the necessary plea, “Bruce, please. I want to talk to you,”

This time he looked back into your eyes. You saw the myriad of feelings in the depths. Among them shyness, anxiety, curiosity, and gratitude. Perhaps it was the last two emotions that made him worry on his bottom lip for a beat before responding with yet another one-word question:

“Where?” his thumbs brushed over your knuckles almost unconsciously.

As if it was a habit by now. The thought warmed up your cheeks, which you quickly disguised with a smirk, dropping the voice to an appropriate timbre:

“Your bedroom” you did not miss the way Bruce’s eyes glanced at your mouth and chose to strike, “Privacy first, darling,”

Not letting go of the momentum, you dropped one of his hands and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. As always letting it linger just a little longer. Enough to hear the audible hitch in his breath. And to see him nod curtly once you pulled back.

That one war was won.

The nerves returned as soon as Bruce started leading you through the tower to his bedroom. It might have been your plan, but you were far from ready. Not for the fear of him doing something to you once you disclosed the truth, but rather that he would back away completely. Cut you out. And for good this time.

Although reluctant to admit it, you could not imagine losing him. Not when he seemed to be the only one truly getting you. Not when you were almost ready to admit what you never told anyone before. Not now.

Used to the feeling of his hand enveloping yours, you only managed to get out of the negative spiral when Bruce let go of your palm to close the bedroom door and met your eyes. There was nowhere left to run anymore. Straightening the back as if to armour yourself against the potential attack, you chose to cut the chase:

“Bruce, I know” the flash of panic in his gaze was quickly hidden with puzzlement so you pushed on, unbothered, “I know you’re the vigilante-” once the word left your mouth, his lips opened in a silent cry before he attempted to speak over you, but you would not let him, closing his mouth with a finger against the lips “No, let me speak. I know, and I’m not going to tell anyone” horror only kept increasing within the blue irises as you trudged onwards, driving the point to the conclusion “I promise on my father’s grave. You know that means everything to me” you meant it.

Because, of course, you did. Despite the denial reflected at you, you knew he understood it, too, even if only subconsciously.

As soon as you dropped your hand, Bruce spoke with urgency underlining the vowels:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” the attitude you could hear in the sentence was only a step away from outright scoff.

As if you had lost your mind, and he was happy to point it out. But the panic in the depths of his eyes was enough for you. You knew you were right. It was only a matter of telling him that without losing the trust you have managed to build. You took a deep breath before finishing the speech you had prepared on the way over:

“You don’t have to say anything, just let me in. Let me help you with the case, with the riddles… with everything you need” it was there, waiting for Bruce to do whatever he wanted; a slightly pathetic display of emotionality but nonetheless crucial “I’m here,”

It was more than that. More than an admission, promising to be there for him and to help should he want you to. It was the only way you could tell him that you were ready and open to whatever he wanted. Anything.

You nearly told him that. It was Bruce himself that saved you, eyes squinting suspiciously, another one-worded reply on his tongue:

“Why?” despite yourself, you grinned.

You were only missing the ‘when’ and ‘how’ from the infamous Five Ws that every journalism student had stuffed down their throat till they had enough. You did not point it out, however. Choosing to accept the change of topic and soften the tone once again, instead:

“Because I’m tired of not knowing” shrugging, you dropped his gaze and turned towards the desk, staring right at the family picture you could not get out of your mind; it was easier to be honest like that, “Of the loneliness and pretending I don’t need to feel needed” perhaps it was everything that really mattered now.

Not the potential of fame and fortune, should you be the one to unmask the Batman and uncover the truth about the Riddler. It was the feeling of being important enough for Bruce to share things with you. And, perhaps, more than that.

Luckily, you never got to finish the thought. Before you could find the courage to face him again, you heard a stifled groan filled with pain. Uncertainty went out the window as you whirled around to look at Bruce and found him carefully touching his side underneath the t-shirt. Your eyebrows drew close as concern took over:

“What’s wrong?” quickly judging by his expression whether it was okay to approach him, you closed the gap, already reaching out a hand.

You half expected him to bullshit his way through the answer, pretending nothing was amiss to get rid of you faster.

“Rough escape,” but he did not, wincing and minimizing the pain showing on his face but still admitting what you had guessed happened.

Your chest constricted tightly, the flash of pain in your heart nothing but a sign that tonight was just too much. Only that, nothing else. Or so you hoped.

The possibility of that feeling alone was the motivation when you stepped closer to Bruce and once again grabbed his hand, using your free palm to touch the edge of his shirt.

“May I?” finally, a simple question.

Because hardly anything mattered as much as consent did. Even if it was only about tending to his wounds. You waited for that one nod to give you the permission to touch him, already driven close to madness with the warmth radiating off his skin beneath the material. Bruce swallowed hard, eyeing you for a moment and then he nodded, the pink hue spreading over his cheeks. Even with the heart racing in your chest, you had to admit it was adorable. You offered him a quick smile and lifted his t-shirt, letting him take it off and drop it on the nearby chair.

A gasp was all you could manage once you took in the bruises, cuts and scrapes covering his torso. It looked worse than you imagined, immediately launching your brain into thousands of possible reasons for what happened to him. At the same time, there was an undeniable pull, lingering beneath the worry and concern. The same one that made it impossible for you to stay away from him. The one that made you crave things you thought you were better off without. Hesitatingly, you allowed your fingers to graze over his skin, tracing one of the many old scars towards the centre of his chest. It was impossible to deny yourself the curiosity, burning brighter each time you got close to Bruce.

Suddenly you felt a careful touch on your chin, fingers tipping your head up to meet the familiar blue eyes:

“Alright?” his tone was surprisingly low, the husky timbre doing nothing to quell the sparks.

Not that you wanted him to. But maybe after… this.

Not trusting your voice, you only nodded, the gaze dropping to his body again to properly look at his wounds. It seemed like he took the worst hit to his lower ribcage and sides. The angry red bruises covered the area over his ribs and back towards the kidneys. You did not dare consider that he could have fractures. Forcing the tone to remain calm and composed, you raised your head once more and asked:

“Have you fallen off a building?” the sour smile curling up the edges of your lips.

There was no humour in Bruce’s eyes as he murmured the response:

“Something like that…” trailing off meaningfully, you could see that you could not count on more, and then Bruce understood your intentions; panic flashing all over his face, “You don’t have to-” you covered his mouth with your hand, again.

Shot him a glare to make sure he stayed silent and placed your palms on his chest, walking him back towards the edge of the bed:

“Shut up and sit down” you pushed him till he was seated, grinning at the shocked expression, “I’m returning a favour. Hell, I might even kiss you afterwards” as Bruce blushed, your smile widened.

Well, now you had to do just that.

Without waiting for his permission, you let yourself into his bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the arnica Bruce used on you the previous evening. Once you found it, you grabbed the nearest clean cloth and soaked it in tepid water. Armed with the necessities, you strolled back into his bedroom, eyes instantly drawn to Bruce. He stayed where you left him, perched on the edge of the mattress, hands clasped tightly, bottom lip abused by his teeth. Searching for an appropriate quip to help him brighten up or sigh in frustration, you crawled upon the bed, folding your legs and taking the ideal position facing his back. Your mouth fell agape upon the sight of the bruises covering his skin there. You could barely find a spot that had not been tarnished with the splotches of red, purple, and crimson, confirming the thesis about Bruce falling off a building. Or something like that.

All sense of humour flew out of your head. Instead, you could only focus on him. Raising the wet cloth, you gently dabbed the bruised skin, cooling it off and cleaning any residual dirt and blood. All the while, your gaze could not stay fixed, wandering over the constellations of scars and freckles dotting his back. Bruce was motionless, yet still, you could see the muscles underneath the skin, moving upon even the smallest of twitches. Like when you pressed the wet fabric to a scrape on his side, earning a slight tremble from Bruce. A grin pasted itself on your lips, urging you to break the silence:

“Alright?” repeating his question mere minutes before, you put away the cloth and traced the pads of your fingers over his scars.

And up towards the nape of the neck, carefully applying pressure to loosen the knots in his muscles. Bruce shivered as he cleared his throat, evidently gearing up to reply:

“Kind of” the hoarse tone was the sole reason for your goosebumps as Bruce shrugged.

Was it not for the situation you did consider flicking his temple to express the frustration as you groaned loudly.

“Diplomatic answer, Wayne” instead, you only rolled your eyes and leaned in closer to whisper the addition right into his ear “Hope I’m not making it worse,” placing a quick peck on the shell of his ear, you happily received another dose of shivers.

Disguised with a pleased chuckle and conveniently placed when Bruce could not see your face, the fear was real. Another one that made its way in despite the defences. As if reading your mind, Bruce reached towards the hand you had clasped on his left shoulder and squeezed your fingers. You knew it was his way of showing support before he found the necessary words.

“You… You never make anything worse here. Only better” the quiet response was responsible for the heat creeping up your neck, fondness making its presence known in the look you gave him, “I-”

It was the sudden fear over what he could say that made you interrupt him, the softness hazing the edges of your vowels and adding necessary theatrics to the actions:

“Shh, there’s no need to propose” upon Bruce’s sharp intake of air, you grinned, letting the metaphorical penny drop into the silence of his bedroom, “Yet,”

It was his turn to groan, undoubtedly rolling his eyes at your antics. But the atmosphere felt lighter, as though the attempt at conversation was helping to ease you into the situation. As though it would be alright. Even with you knowing and Bruce being scared out of his mind at the prospect. You had to be fine, right?

Eager to keep the momentum going, you reached into the tin with arnica and started massaging the ointment into the worst of the bruises, another question desperate to be asked:

“The nightmare last night… what was it?” a tentative start to what has been on your mind since.

Bruce tensed again before letting out a deeper exhale, leaning into your touch as your fingers worked to loosen the muscles between his shoulder blades.

“What’s happened to no questions?” the tint of humour in his response was enough to make you grin, stopping the task for a beat.

Only so that you could wrap your arms around his torso, mindless of the mess from the arnica getting on your dress. This time Bruce responded immediately, taking hold of your hand draped over his chest and raising it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. A sigh was inescapable.

“We did,” you whispered the reply against his skin, kissing his neck as punctuation to what you both knew was true, “This, whatever this is” there was no need to elaborate.

Bruce hummed quietly, laying one more kiss on your fingers before releasing you with palpable reluctance. You took it as a cue to come back to work, reaching for more arnica and rubbing it into the muscles of his back, careful of the bruises and other wounds. After a beat, Bruce started speaking again, voice measured and calm yet holding a maelstrom of emotions within:

“Same old. Losing the people I care about or me being unable to help them when they need it most” the bitterness tinted his tone as he spat out the words, “The more people I care about, the more dangerous it gets” Bruce shrugged and you stilled, taking in the admission.

It made sense you had to give him that. What is more, it was logic that you used to preach through the thick and thin. And then he happened.

Ignoring the nagging thoughts, you resumed the massage. Maybe at least one soul could be saved from the fate you did not wish to impose upon anyone.

“So, it’s better not to care?” as soon as the question left your lips, Bruce stiffened, as if frozen by the horror of being seen; it was another reason to push on, “But that equals loneliness” you dropped the tone by a notch, letting the unspoken drift in the gaps between words.

Bruce sighed, hunching more than before as if he was eager to disappear and ignore what he did not want to delve into. You understood, truly. But you had to point out the lack of reason. Especially when staring at the shapes you could make out of the freckles across his back. And wishing you could kiss every single one of them.

“Sometimes, I can convince myself that being lonely is the best outcome. Since I’m the only one hurt by that,” another heavy sigh left his lips as the low tone reverberated through his chest, tremors reaching your hands resting upon his back.

That one, too, sounded familiar. Painfully so. You had no excuses left not to do what you wanted to. If not for yourself, then for Bruce. You placed the lid back on the ointment tin and put it away. Your fingers shook lightly as you let them travel up the curve of his spine, feeling the shallow breath expand his chest as Bruce struggled for air. Once your hands reached the nape of his neck, you slid one palm into the hair, nails grazing the skin of the skull with calculated precision. Just enough to make him gasp. Enough to make you want more of whatever noises he could offer. But first, you had to drive the point to its end goal.

“And now?” this question was whispered against his neck as you tugged on the strands lightly.

Your free hand has found its place around his waist, resting on the ribcage. Soon it was pressed closer with a larger palm as Bruce responded to your tenderness without hesitation.

“Now I don’t know what to think,” you smirked, hearing the breathy response, doing your best not to pay attention to the flutters in your stomach.

Or the fullness in your chest. Instead, you chose to focus on Bruce.

“Good. Stop thinking, just be with me,” another whisper complemented by a kiss laid on the nape of his neck.

This final sigh Bruce let out was somehow lighter, as if he was giving in to whatever you had in mind. And you were prepared, letting your lips travel down his spine in a lingering type of kiss. Following the instincts and desires, painting his skin with the feelings you could not name. As your mouth settled upon his shoulder, Bruce leaned into you, backing into the embrace and entwining your hands. It was then that you decided to amp the pressure a little, catching the skin on his shoulder while your empty hand wandered, swiping over the broad chest and toned stomach. Anything to satisfy the want. Anything to make Bruce whimper, the sound lost and stifled in embarrassment.

It became a familiar game, pain and pleasure, softened with the swipe of the tongue. Until you knew that tomorrow morning, Bruce would wake up with more than just bruising from his nightly escapades. And then some more, kissing the side of his neck, mouth devouring the flesh with meticulous devotion. Tongue tasting what could never be yours. Hands getting accustomed to his warmth. Senses drowning in all things Bruce. Until there was no more you. No more fear or uncertainty. Only him and the feelings pulsing in your veins and tinting the heart a darker shade of red.

Only then you chose to stop, letting you a shuddered breath against his neck as you squeezed his hand. You had to leave. As soon as possible. Otherwise, you were bound to fuck up everything for good. There was no trust in your ability to hold back tonight. That much was obvious. But there was one last thing you wanted to give him.

“Lie down, please,” you whispered the plea into his ear before scooting further back.

Far enough so Bruce could lay his head in your lap as his back straightened on the mattress. He moved without the usual liveliness, but you put it down to the recent injuries. And awkwardness at what you were making him do. Hence why you offered him a soft smile as soon as you could look him in the eyes. In response, you got the trademark shy Bruce grin as you came to call it. He swallowed hard, his head moving a little in your lap as if to find the right position. You could see the cogs whirring in his head, so you waited patiently to hear what he had to say, fingers deftly carding through the brown hair and massaging the scalp.

“It’s just you…” his whisper caught you by surprise at first, your brain too occupied with him to understand.

And then you noticed the earnestness in his eyes, the slight blush adorning the cheeks. Just be with me. The echo of your words returned to haunt you and forced out a smile that felt almost too happy. All because you had Bruce’s attention. Pathetic, huh?

“Brilliant,” you grinned, putting aside the berating thoughts.

You had to make use of it. Before you could find the resolve to lean in, he surprised you again. Raising a hand, Bruce trailed his fingers down the front of your body, catching on the dress collar and splaying it over the centre of your chest. Over your heart, currently racing and thrashing against the ribs like a moth. You met his gaze, aware of the danger it could pose. Aware of the emotions pouring from your eyes. But you did not look away, showing him the truth even if only this once. I want you. I’m scared of letting you in. And everything else you were scared to name even in your head.

To confirm the words, you leaned in, taking in the awestruck look on Bruce’s face and how he reached out to cup your face, easing the collision you were aiming for. It was impossible not to grin, swallowing the giggling fit as you covered his mouth with yours in the upside-down kiss. The ridiculousness of your idea almost backfired until you found the perfect rhythm, kissing his lower lip and abusing it with the passion that felt almost too natural. In response, Bruce latched onto your bottom lip with the same ferocity, tugging at the fragile skin till he had you gasping. Hands desperately clinging to every bit of his flesh you could reach. Until Bruce stopped, a quiet sigh breaking the silence and making you meet his eyes and find nothing but tenderness within. He tipped his chin to place a peck on your nose, and you took it as the sign from the universe to do what had to happen. To let go, with the heart growing heavier and the regrets piling up each second.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes as you sat back up and rose onto your knees before him. Bruce watched motionless as you stared back, undeniably giving him quite the vantage point. Kneeling above his head, black tights and the dress not leaving much to the imagination. Never the one to shy away, you felt the flash of embarrassment wash over your body, but you did not move. Frozen in the strange moment, unable to look away from the blue eyes that seemed to see beyond the attraction and physical needs. But even Bruce was human. Well, kind of…

Before you could go on that tangent, Bruce raised his hand and wrapped it around your thigh, not quite tightly yet there for you to feel. That took another moment to sink in as you stared at him, aware of the heat pooling in your lower stomach and the hunger raging in your veins. You could not trust yourself. Not around him. Not when it mattered most that you did. So, you made sure Bruce had his gaze fixed on you as you spoke:

“Let me go unless you want this to escalate beyond reason…” it was not exactly a threat; you did not mean it to be one.

But you had to be frank. Had to leave it up to him to decide. You could see the dilemma as Bruce mauled over it silently, the shades of scarlet upon his cheeks, yet his eyes held curious sparks in their depths. And then he sighed, resigned. His hand fell onto the bed, eyes closing.

You did not say goodbye, slipping out of his bedroom before he could look at you again.

You always told yourself it would be better that way. Wouldn’t it?

***

When you got home, the burner phone Bruce gave you what felt like aeons ago had one unread message waiting at your disposal. You opened it before you took off the shoes or turned on the lights. Priorities and all that.

“Would it change anything if what you said was true?”

Simple question. You stared at the screen until it blacked out on its own and then refreshed it, letting out a long breath as if to balance out the emotions swirling in your head. Not because you did not have an answer for him. But rather because he confirmed everything, and you did not know how to cope.

For now, a quick swig of wine from the fridge had to do. Healthier mechanisms would come one day.

“Not at all. I’ll be back tomorrow, think there are riddles for us to solve,” you typed out the response without wasting another second with the alcohol still pleasantly burning in the back of your throat.

When you came out of the shower, there was another message waiting.

“Goodnight,” you grinned, feeling strangely hopeful as the torrential rain crashed down on the city.

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