#pattinson!batman smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sadesluvr · 4 months ago

Text

By Your Side

Sometimes you don't realise how much Bruce needs you.

A/N: Title based off the song by Sade! The Sade/Nirvana song choice is just to show your different personalities...We love needy, loverboy Bruce :3 Minors/Ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 2.6K

“Master Bruce is in his usual spot, I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I know... Thank you, Alfred. Take care of him for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ve been doing this for years. You go and have fun...And might I say you look stunning as ever, Miss.”

You flashed Alfred another smile, kissing his cheek before you left in search of your boyfriend – Bruce Wayne, and The Batman himself. From the moment you’d began dating, Alfred had been nothing but kind to you, to the point that you saw him as a father in-law rather than your boyfriend's butler. Granted, it was easy for him to trust you; you’d been in all the same circles as the Wayne’s growing up and had even gone to school with the boy himself, hence a mutual understanding of what each other needed.

Bruce wasn’t that much of a public figure; you kept your relationship hidden (as much as possible). Wayne Enterprises sometimes needed good PR; you were more than happy to step in. Yes, there was a business side, but there was also a lot of love, and it was perhaps that innate trust and understanding that propelled the man to reveal his identity to you. You hadn’t run, screamed, questioned or cried: merely accepted and moved on.

Tonight was one of those nights; a charity gala was to be held, and somebody needed to make a public appearance.

You’d been into the Batcave many times. It wasn’t your favourite place in the building; it was a little cold and lacked the classic feel of the Gothic architecture in the main tower, but you found yourself strangely comfortable in it. Probably because it was Bruce’s space, and you felt like you knew him on a deeper level.

Goosebumps peppered your skin as you entered the floor, heels making a distinct clicking sound as you walked in, stopping halfway. As always, the man was glued to his screen, and you thought it best not to disturb him. No matter how nice you looked.

“I’m heading out. The chauffeur’s going to be here in twenty.”

Bruce pursed his lips, slowly withdrawing his gaze from the screen to glance up at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he gave you a once over. Even with the hair in his face, you could tell that there was a flurry of emotions within his wet blue eyes; disappointment, annoyance...intrigue.

“...Tonight? Why?” he said, his voice soft and shaky.

“Because I have to,” you sighed, a small smile on your face as you shifted your weight. Bruce was far from being a child, but sometimes he walked the line between being an eight-year-old, and an angsty teenager, something that you were more than understanding about given his life circumstances. “It’s for charity. I’m also going on your behalf.”

He seemed uncomfortable at this; blinking as he diverted his gaze back to his screen, eyes roaming the pixelated words and images absentmindedly before turning back to you, jaw tight and ticking.

“It’s not safe.”

“Alfred took care of all the transport,” you said matter-of-factly. “There’ll be lots of people there. I couldn’t get kidnapped if I tried.”

Bruce didn’t laugh. You should’ve anticipated that.

Sighing, there was a distant smile on your face as you got closer, placing your hand on his own and giving it a small squeeze. His hands were a little cold and slightly calloused, and you tenderly rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, careful not to agitate him with your rings.

“Would you feel better if you drove me?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice stern, but his. “Not tonight. If people know you’re with me it only makes you more of a target.”

Removing your hands from his own, you took a deep breath and sighed, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip in frustration. God knew you loved Bruce, but God also knew he was stubborn; way too stubborn for his own good. The rational side of you knew that it was because of his trauma, but in the moment you didn’t feel like coddling him.

Great, now you’d ruined your makeup.

You were going to fix it, and then you were going to the gala.

“That’s too bad, Bruce.” Was all you said before you disappeared, spinning on your heels as you strutted out of the room without as much as giving him a second glance.

You could feel his impenetrable gaze on your back as you did, either cursing you out in his mind, fantasising about you, or somewhere in between. The lighting of the Batcave was perhaps a little too dim to see the entirety of your dress anyway.

Strolling into the bathroom, you switched on the light before taking a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. There were hints of condensation along the mirror and bath tiles from the shower you'd taken earlier, the faint smell of your oils and body lotions sticking to the fibres of the hand towel.

You picked up a cloth and hastily wiped at the glass, just enough so that you could see your face and the outline of your body. Gently, you ran your fingers over your hips and waist, trying desperately to smooth out the material before you rummaged in your makeup bag, pulling out the liner and running it over your lips. The precision in which you performed the ritual told you that you were perhaps more interested in the aesthetics of it all, rather than the actual charity itself.

It was a transaction really – and in truth you had the same mindset as all the other rich Gothamites. You may have been dating the heir to the Wayne throne, but were an ambassador first, and that meant appearances had to be made. It kept the business happy, and Bruce too, leaving him free to do his vigilante shit as much as he pleased.

Once you were happy with how you looked, you gave yourself a once over, contemplating whether you should go for another spritz of perfume, only to be interrupted by Bruce himself. He’d poked his head inside the doorway, watching your motions from behind.

Catching his eye in the mirror, you relaxed your shoulders and spun to lean against the edge of the sink. He took that as a sign to come in, closing the door behind him with two fingers as he did, glassy eyes roaming your body before focusing on your face. The muggy air of the bathroom seemed to catch up with him instantly; his black strands frizzy and unbridled, some clinging to his forehead in the process.

To an outsider, one would’ve never been able to tell that this was a happy, healthy couple – friends from the same tax bracket – let alone Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the city. He was wearing one of his muted t-shirts with sweatpants to match, and looked a little spent, stubble around his chin and bags under his eyes; whilst you were dressed as if you were ready to walk a fashion show in Milan.

But you were fine with it. In fact, you rather liked it.

“Are you here to apologise?” you said matter-of-factly, smirking as you folded your arms over your chest.

“That’s a nice dress,” Bruce said, ignoring your statement. “Where’d you get it?”

“I bought it. It was on auction.”

“Why didn’t you let me pay for it?”

“Because if I told you what it was for, I wouldn’t be wearing it now.”

Bruce hummed, nodding his head as he diverted his gaze before looking back at you. He took a step, outstretching his hand to run his fingers along the fabric, tracing the shape of your body as he did. The act, though small, sent a chill down your spine, as if you were being touched by him for the first time.

He always seemed to have a way with his actions; they were gentle and somewhat apprehensive, but they always had intent. Your eyes fluttered shut as he buried his face in your neck, his hairs tickling your bare skin as he eventually pulled you into a hug. Momentarily, you remained still, listening as his breaths steadied before you touched him back, wrapping your hands around his waist.

There was a soft whistle that came from his nose as he embraced the scent of your perfume, and soon his pout became an imperceptible smile – to you, at least, who was faced away from the mirror. You always managed to bring him a sense of comfort; a grounding reality to the mania of his double life.

His grip on the small of your back tightened as he spoke into your ear, voice somewhat muffled.

“I need you...” he crooned. “Stay.”

“Bruce...” you sighed. “The driver --”

“Forget about him,” Bruce insisted, maintaining his grip on you as he angled his head to look at you. His pink lips were wet and parted, and his eyes were wide. “Stay with me. Please.”

Perhaps it was the lighting, but he seemed less grumpy and instead soft, almost like a boy who didn’t want to be left on his first day of school. Sighing, you scanned his features as you cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the eagerness to step out in front of the cameras and into a grand hall filled with socialites indescribably slip away.

Admittedly, even though you spent a lot of time in the tower, you’d hardly seen Bruce over the past few weeks – whilst you worked tirelessly through the day with PR reps and funders, he did the same at night; in his own way, of course.

You were used to it, and it was a relatively peaceful routine, but sometimes you wondered if tonight was your chance to switch roles; for you to be the woman in black, and for him to ponder about what was happening outside.

You didn’t want to hurt him. That was never the intention.

Rubbing your thumb over his skin, you pursed your lips before pulling him into a gentle kiss, with the man holding your waist in place with his hands, legs and pelvis trapping you between the sink and his body.

Despite your mini dispute, you were immediately in sync, lips intertwined as they danced against each other whilst Bruce’s hands made their way up to the zipper behind you. Skilfully, he tugged at the material, watching as the fabric slowly split apart, undressing you until you were left in your underwear; chest practically bare other than some pasties glued to your nipples.

You cast your gaze to the floor as the dress pooled around your ankles, unable to have a chance at mourning the night you were supposed to have as Bruce cupped your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head to look at him.

“Beautiful.”

He said simply, his blue eyes scanning your features before he began to kiss you again, his lips making their way down your neck and along your collarbone. You laced your fingers in his dark strands, biting your lip as you felt his erection against your bare thigh before tugging at his shirt. He twitched, his resistance coming from the scars that adorned his back; some from your own doing, but most from his nights of vigilante work.

“It’s ok, Bruce,” you said sweetly, squirming against the ceramic. “I want to see you too.”

He cast his gaze to the floor before softly exhaling, peeling off his shirt and discarding it on the floor next to your dress.

Running your fingertips up his spine, you let out a soft moan as he cupped your breasts, his hands uncontrolled as he felt his way along your body, eventually sliding down to your folds and slipping a finger in. He prodded and poked, gently pulling you apart as you coated his fingers with your juices, his lips still on your skin as he began to jerk against you, grinding his erection on your lower torso.

Instinctively, you snaked your hand inside of his sweatpants, giving his clothed cock a few languid strokes before pulling them down by the waistband. Groping at your ass, Bruce lifted you off the sink and onto the adjoining counter, hastily aligning himself with your entrance.

“Bruce...I’m sorry. Forgive me?” you whispered, shutting your eyes as his wet tip prodded at your entrance. It was a rather misplaced, emotional message for such a sexually charged moment, but you found it necessary. Here; with his face in your hands and your bodies just about to become one, there wasn’t a better moment. Coherent words seemed to evade the both of you, but the message was clear – you were by each other's side, always. He knew you were one of the few people who got him, understood him; really, and you knew that deep down, he was just scared.

You were willing to work through that.

It was bliss when he entered you. He’d gone in raw, cock stretching you so perfectly and making you feel whole. He let out a heavy sigh as he savoured the feeling before beginning to roll his hips, murmuring into your neck as he held onto your legs, making sure they stayed apart.

Jostling about, your calves struck the cabinets below ever so slightly as he found a comfortable pace. His breath was hot against your own clammy skin, and he smelt faintly of leather and sweat…which only turned you on more.

Bruce groaned your name, his breaths laboured and ragged as he motioned his hips in and out of you, pelvis colliding with your thighs and producing an obscene slapping sound. He gripped onto your waist, angling your hips so that he could take more of you, desperate to consume you in any way he could. He didn’t want to let go – he couldn’t – your love was just too strong, too womanly to lose hold of.

To some it made him weak, but he felt it gave him balance.

“God…” you whispered, clasping his face in your hands, forcing him to watch you come undone. “Don’t stop…” Bruce’s eyes were half lidded, occasionally flickering down to the small gap that joined the two of you, hypnotised by the way you covered his pink cock in a shiny sheen, with the sex organ virtually disappearing in you.

He nodded, lips wet and parted as you pushed hair from his face, allowing for you to take in his features at his most vulnerable. Even though the room had become steamy, and the lights were slightly obscured, Bruce was as handsome as ever. His usually clenched jaw hung free, and the dark circles around his eyes didn’t look so depressing.

There was just something about intimacy that changed the way you see people.

“B-Bruce…” you crooned, locking your legs around him as you noticed his thrusts becoming sloppier. “Cum inside me…Please.”

He wasn’t going to say no to you, nor was he planning to pull out anyway, especially not tonight. He called your name once more before he began to pant, blue eyes locking with your own as he came inside of you, ropes of his seed filling your pussy to the brim. He was pent up, so desperate that you wondered if his protectiveness earlier on in the night had just been because he was horny.

“I love you…” he whispered, twitching as he came down from his high. “You know that?”

“I do.” You nodded sincerely, words evading you as your chests fell against the others’, still entangled in each-others arms as your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily focusing on the others’ breaths and gentle caresses on bare skin.

You didn’t care about the dress, or the gala, or the fact that you were going to have to run out for Plan B in the morning – simply the fact that it had been the first time he’d directly said ‘I love you’.

Bruce knew he meant it with all his heart.

#Spotify #florence writes!!#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #battinson smut #battinson x reader #the batman! bruce wayne x reader #robert pattinson x reader

1K notes · View notes

moonwqves · 4 months ago

Text

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

741 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Text

say yes

kinktober, day twenty-one

a/n: ...i personally wouldn't mind becoming mrs. wayne.......

warnings: bruce wayne (pattinson) x fiancé!reader, smut, established relationship, possessiveness, oral, cock worship, dirty talk

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

With the newly ring adorned hand softly wrapped around your fiancé’s girth, tender gaze locked on his, you littered his throbbing length with sweet, sloppy kisses.

Pecks fluttering down towards the base, you dipped further down and drooled over his heavy sack. Mouth gently agape as he watched you in awe, one of his hands then drifted it way down to yours, dreamily brushing his fingertip over the jewel.

“Say it again,” he breathed as your lips teased their way back up to the dewy head, “say yes,” staring at you as if you were a deity at his feet, “tell me that you’re all mine.”

1K notes · View notes

purehypnotic · 1 month ago

Text

✮𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕✮

𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔.

𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

"𝐘/𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝.

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

"𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬.

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 "𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡", 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ��𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲.

"𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐘/𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨," 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. "𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐇𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.

𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨. 𝐓𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝.

𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐓𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭-𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐎𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

*𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓*

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨��𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥," 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲𝐲," 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, "𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧.

*𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒑*

"𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭?" 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.

"𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞,

" 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

"𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧, 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐰𝐬" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 "𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞" 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.

"𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧. "𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 ��𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐍𝐚𝐡, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟.

"𝐎𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬" 𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐩. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

"𝐎𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐦 𝐈, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫? 𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝/𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

"𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 ��𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮," 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨��𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬.

"𝐎𝐤… 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. "𝐘'𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

"𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞. "𝐒𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐝.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

"𝐋𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐜��𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐘/𝐧," 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫?

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥�� 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝.

"𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞.

"𝐎𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐛 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

"𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. "𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫��𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. "𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤.

"𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭- 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐮𝐲" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟.

"𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲" 𝐇𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐛 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

"𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. "𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐤?" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞-𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐈 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

"𝐇𝐦𝐦, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡. "𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐍𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐘/𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞��𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. "𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐤" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫, "𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧.

"𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬��𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝.

"𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞.

"𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩" 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧.

"𝐂'𝐦𝐨𝐧" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦.

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, "𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧" 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤!

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆🎀

195 notes · View notes

strangespinapple · 4 months ago

Text

BW ~ My Love

Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader

blurb: you and bruce are childhood sweethearts. you love him and he loves you. there is nothing you guys wouldn’t do for each other. but between you being 7 months pregnant with his baby and bruce’s late night activities, you’ve been missing him a lot. so tonight instead of falling asleep and seeing him later on, you decided to stay awake and give your husband a relaxing bubble bath.

warnings: SMUTTT 18++ MDNI - fluff - pregnancy - soft!bruce - sarcasm? - cursing - bullying - marriage - love - childhood trauma - mentions of death - mentions of virginity - bad/mean boy but soft only for reader troupe 🥹

word count: 2.3k

a/n: the way i've been in my bruce wayne and billy loomis era is CRAAZYYY, definitely more coming soon!

honorable mention: @devilfic. she is one of my favorite writers and i love her Bruce Wayne fics. she is also one of many writers who have inspired me to write. pls check her out if you haven't already! enjoy :)

You and Bruce are childhood sweethearts. Going to the same middle school as the soon-to-be mayor’s son, you saw first hand how cruel people can be. You always made sure to show kindness to him. To let him know that not everyone in this world is heartless. After the death of his parents, the bullying only amplified, and Alfred decided it was best to homeschool him. You were sad that your best friend would no longer be going to the same school as you. But that didn’t stop you from being there for him and seeing him everyday. Never would you have imagined that your childhood best friend would fall for you and make you his wife 12 years later.

You are currently two months away from giving birth to his son. Bruce has been working extra hard in his day and night job. He promised that he will take a few months off to care for you and the baby. You love Bruce so much and he loves you. That’s why you are filling a soothing bubble bath for him to sit in. It’s 5:30am and the sun is starting to rise in Gotham city. While waiting for the bubble water to fill the tub, you pour a glass of wine and a glass of sparkling cider. Normally Alfred or Lucy (Bruce’s maid) would do this for you but with acts of service being your love language, this time you wanted to make it extra special for him.

You make your way upstairs as quickly and quietly as your legs can carry you, trying your best to not ruin the surprise. You put the two glasses on the counter in the bathroom so you can scatter rose petals around the tub. Lucy has helped you pick them from the garden, a new hobby you had picked up to fill all your free time. You start to light all the candles you had placed around the bathroom to add to the romance. Turning the water off as now the tub was completely filled, you took one last glance around to make sure everything looked perfect. And it sure as hell did.

The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing made you feel excited.

“Honey?” Bruce called out for you.

“In the bathroom!”

His heavy footsteps against the hardwood floors can be heard coming towards you. As he walks through the threshold it’s as if time stopped for the both of you. Bruce has always been a very fit, tall and undeniably attractive man. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. But with him standing there shirtless, still dripping with water from his shower, it made your mouth water. And these pregnancy hormones were not helping either.

Ever since he found out you were pregnant, he built a shower and changing station inside of the batcave to limit the amount of noise and movement he’d bring to the bedroom. He didn’t want to disturb you and the baby with his mental boots and foul smells after being trapped in leather all night.

Bruce was just as turned on as you were. Seeing you standing there round and swollen with his baby in a purple lacy lingerie nightgown makes his pants feel tight. Beautiful long brown shiny legs and arms that he would bet his last dollar would feel so soft against his skin. Big boobs filled with milk about to pop out of the silk fabric. Your box braids in a high braided ponytail that laid flat against your left shoulder, framed your beautiful chocolate face to look more natural and ethereal than you already look. He could eat you up right here right now and not give a single fuck.

Taking a look around the bathroom and seeing how stunning it looks, he wonders how he got so lucky to have such a beautiful caring wife. Bruce looks you in the eye with such devotion it makes your heart swell.

“What do we have here?” He says with a smirk on his face as he walks towards you.

When he gets in front of you his hands gravitate to your waist, as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you. Something that you wouldn’t see coming.”

Your smile is art in its purest form for Bruce. He leans down and plants a soft but passionate kiss on your lips. You kiss him back with so much love. The kiss begins to get hot and heavy. You can feel his prominent bulge against your upper thigh, making you more wet than you already are. Placing your hands on his chest to push him away, Bruce looks at you like a starved man with a pout on his lips.

“I’m supposed to be pampering you, not being seduced by you.” While smiling at him Bruce takes one of his hands and slaps your butt. He takes a deep breath through his nose to calm his hormones down.

“Okay, whatever you want mamas. Where do you want me?”

“I need you to take your pants off and get in the tub.”

“Can you take me to dinner first before you try to get in my pants?” He side eyes you while smiling. One thing many people didn’t know about Bruce is that he has a funny sense of humor. Something only you have been privileged to witness.

You put your hands on your hips and a giggle leaves your lips. (A/N: didn’t mean to rhyme here but just call me DR Seuss heheh)

“Get in the tub Mr Wayne” Smiling at him you move one hand to your belly.

“Well of course Mrs Wayne”

Bruce pulls down his sweatpants along with his boxers allowing them to fall to his ankles. His muscular body looks like it was sculpted by God himself. You simply couldn’t help but to stare in awe of him. He steps out of them and makes his way to the bubble bath. Getting in the tub one leg at a time he sits straight up in the bath with the bubble water hitting his mid-waist due to how tall he is.

Forcing yourself out of your trance, you grab a loofah and lather it with his favorite body wash. Slowly getting down on your hands and knees right beside Bruce, you glide the loofah against his broad strong shoulders and upper back. Cuts and bruises litter across his entire body but you make sure to give a little extra love and care to each and every one of them.

“Baby you don’t have to do this. I should be taking care of you in your condition.”

“But you always take such good care of me. I want to make you feel as special as you make me feel. Baby or no baby, I can do this for you.” You kiss the side of his face lovingly. Moving to the right side of Bruce to start washing up and down his right arm, Bruce puts his left hand on top of yours.

“Join me.” His eyes are dark with emotion. You couldn’t tell if it was lust or love or maybe a little of both.

“Bruce. This is supposed to b-“

“I know I know but trust me, feeling your body sitting perfectly on top of mine IS taking care of me.”

He puts his pointer and middle finger in the shape of legs and walks them seductively along your lower arm. His normally blue eyes, now a gray stormy color, stare deeply into your brown eyes making you incredibly wet.

“And more importantly it will make me very, very happy.” How could you possibly deny this man anything?

Pushing up on your hands and knees you stand up straight. You throw the soapy loofah into the sink and immediately start stripping. Bruce stares intensely up at you as your hand pulls the straps of your nightgown off and it instantly drops to the floor.

“Oh you’re trying to kill me.”

With your growing bump in the way it makes it uncomfortable for you to wear sleeping pants and especially underwear. Anyone else would’ve made you feel like a piece of meat, with the way Bruce was eyeing your naked body up and down. But instead, he made you feel so loved and appreciated. Many women would kill for their husbands to look at them the way yours is doing now, let alone wanting to touch them.

“Come here. I need you baby.”

Getting inside the tub, you straddle Bruce. His hand immediately goes over your ass and back up to your hips, moving you back and forth to get you all hot and bothered. A soft moan leaves your lips. Moving the bubbles out of the way, you grab his penis and begin to stroke him back and forth. Bruce’s head falls back hitting the rim of the tub with an audible whine. Thick veins run up and down all 9 inches of him standing hard, with an angry red tint to it.

You are Bruce’s first and he was yours. When you guys were graduating from high school, he decided to stay home and take over Wayne Enterprises as well as begin his journey as Gotham’s vigilante. While you on the other hand went off to college in Central City. Bruce thought that he wouldn’t be able to have relations with a person, given all that his life entails. So he asked you if you’d be comfortable taking his virginity as it is the one thing he didn’t want to miss out on. Being the best friend you are, you could never say no to Bruce. Also because you were secretly in love with him. How could you not be? Bruce is intelligent, tall, funny, muscular, has ocean blue eyes you can get lost in, and a deep and mysterious voice. He’s always been so attractive. Still to this day women throw themselves at his feet, willing to do anything and everything to be with him. You were more than happy to give Bruce an amazing first time, and that’s exactly what it was. It was so good that he was constantly on your mind at school. He absolutely ruined any chance of you being with another man. And when you tried to sleep with other men nothing came close. Bruce felt the same way about you. Every time you are intimate with Bruce it reminds you of your first time with him.

Bruce lifts his head up and his hazy eyes meet yours. Not being able to wait any longer, you lift yourself up onto his throbbing cock. Sliding downwards, Bruce’s hands on your hips help guide you as your back arches. Both of you let out pornographic moans into each other’s faces.

“Fucking hell.” Feeling you squeeze the life out of him, Bruce buckles his hips up into yours.

“OHH Bruce”

You rock back and forth on his cock while he pounds up into you. With arms around him, you tug on the hairs on the nape of his neck. Pulling his hair has always been Bruce’s weakness during sex. Bruce wraps his arms around your waist and holds you down as he jackhammers up into you.

“MOMMY I CAN’T—“

“FUUCKKKK”

With him hitting that perfect spot inside of you, you lose all restraint and moan while coming hard on his cock. Due to overly sensitive pregnancy nerves, you end up squirting. Your legs shake and your pussy clenches the life out of him. Your moans are music to his ears and it pushes him over the edge. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he grunts. His cock swells and spurts of his cum fly into the deepest parts of your uterus. Knowing that if you weren’t already pregnant, you’d definitely be after this.

Breathing heavily against one another, you and Bruce feel a rush of love and content in your hearts. You pull away from Bruce and stare into each other’s eyes.

“I-”

Taking the words right out of your mouth “I love you so much”

You smile at him.

“That’s what I was gonna say” You lean down and kiss him as if it is the last time you’re going to see him.

He moans softly into the kiss and then breaks it. You turn around in the tub to sit back against Bruce’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and rubs your belly lovingly. You lay your head back against his strong shoulder. You look up at him through your lashes and study his beautiful face.

“Have you thought about a baby name yet?” He says looking back down at you.

“No, have you?”

“Nope. But I have faith in you to pick a good name for our baby. You're going to be an amazing mama.”

“Awe honey, you’re so sweet.” He smiles from ear to ear and kisses you sweetly.

He has always loved it when you called him sweet pet names. It helps heal his mommy issues, one name at a time.

“What do you think about Dick?” You pull away and hand his glass of wine to him while holding yours in the other hand.

“Mhmm I don’t know.” He takes a sip of wine.

“I guess when we meet him we’ll know.”

Another smile slowly creeps up on Bruce’s face. Seems like ever since you came back into his life, he’s been smiling a lot more. He cups your face with his other hand and moves his thumb back and forth. He stares into your eyes wondering what he do to get so damn lucky. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. The sun that shines after a harsh thunderstorm.

An amazing dream he never wants to wake up from.

223 notes · View notes

bisayawa · 1 year ago

Text

hand. cramp.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ pairing: bruce wayne (pattinson) × afab!fem!eader

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ warnings: smut. fluff. female masturbation.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ a/n: smut drabble; sometimes sex can be awkward. she/her pronouns used. w. count: 592. not proofread. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. art by bernini.

"give me a show, honey. please?"

that's what bruce had asked you thirty minutes ago, bright blue eyes twinkling, brows downturned in askance. he said those words into the hollow of your throat, nipping & pecking & kneading your thighs all the while.

he whispered & begged & pleaded, pressing kisses as you made your way to the bed, eager to watch how you do it, how you touch yourself with your own hands.

his eyes were wide at attention, ears piquing at the soft sounds breathing out from your lips. he watches, hungry, aching, pawing at the bedspread & biting his lip at the shine of your slick. from the tips of your fingers down to the knuckle, disappearing into the wet heat of you. you cant your hips, back & forth, blinking your eyes closed at the crest of each pass.

"faster," he said, staring. "could you do it faster for me, honey? please?"

he brings a kiss to your cheek, then another, and two more, grasping across your torso to hold you close, biting at your skin as if to coax you.

you obliged, of course, sweet words flowing into you like molasses. pure sugar lit afire in your chest as you feel the start of the tingle at the base of your spine, feel the warmth in your blood from your chest start to crawl down to the tips of your toes. your eyes go cross before you pinch them closed.

he's right beside you, biting & groping & sucking bruises into your neck as you pace faster...

― breaths heaving & flush brightening from your forehead down to your chest ―

and faster...

― small noises & airy sighs curling out from parted lips ―

and... stop.

you're stock still, panting as your legs are tense. your hand is unmoving, taut like a bowstring at rest. the climbing heat ebbs away. your toes twitch & jerk.

"honey?" he says, kissing your cheek. "you okay? what's wrong?"

he rubs your side soothingly, waiting.

your eyes open & you give a sleepy smile, huffing a laugh as you stare up into his eyes. your hand retreats. more breaths run out from your mouth.

"hand cramp, bruce..." you clear your throat. "sorry."

he softens at the sighed out apology, couldn't be more endeared. he moves to sit up beside you, kneeling almost.

"don't be." he reaches for your wrist & massages at your knuckles, kissing the back of your hand.

"bruce... ah-"

he takes your fingers to mouth, a haphazard clean up. drool from his tongue winds down in rivulets, from fingertip to palm. he eyes you as if to challenge. all he sees is your mouth parting in a small whimper.

he sets it down when it's clean of you, humming as the digits leaves his mouth. he savors it, of course, drawing it out slowly from where they're flush to his mouth. first your knuckles, then the middle, then out comes your fingertips, shining with his spit. he licks his lips, leaning down to give you a kiss sweeter & softer than spun sugar.

"my little love," he murmurs against your mouth. "got a cramp, did she? tsk, tsk..."

he breaks from the kiss then, grinning down as he kneels, moves over & sets a hand on your inner thigh. his fingers drum against the skin, impatient, crawling closer & closer to where you want him. the bed dips to receive the weight of him on his knees.

"i think i know what can make her feel better."

#my fic.#battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #batman smut #battinson smut #bruce wayne x you #pattinson!batman #bruce wayne fluff #battinson #trying to get back into writing stuff #carnal urges (aroace-spec)

1K notes · View notes

too-many-fandoms-tbh · 8 months ago

Text

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

BRUCE WAYNE (BATMAN) SMUT

(bruce wayne/batman x fem!reader)

can be read as any batman, but he is described to be a partying bachelor in this

warnings: rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, jealous sex, semi-public (private bathroom) sex, established relationship, slight toxic undertones?? aftercare

she knew it was for her protection, but god did y/n hate pretending not to know bruce in public. they'd attend events together, and she just had to stand there and watch every time as he flirted with all of the girls who approached him. sure, guys flirted with her all the time, but she never talked to them for more than a minute, and she'd always make sure not to lead them on. bruce didn't care; he had to keep up his "partying bachelor" status. she brought it up to him once, and he of course reassured her she was all he wanted, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt.

currently, she was stood against a wall, arms crossed over her stomach as she glared at the girls whom were flocked around her boyfriend. she was wearing a long, bright red dress that hugged her curves tightly and had a deep v-neck. there was a slit going up her thigh, which exposed her silver heels and caused her to constantly adjust her dress in fear of exposing herself. the dress was so tight that she couldn't wear her normal safety-shorts without there being lines, so she'd been stressed about that all night.

"hey there," a voice said out of nowhere. she snapped her gaze away from bruce and immediately replaced her scowl with a polite smile as she turned to greet the man. "you look like you could use a refill."

she paused, eyes looking at the empty glass, provided by the event's servers, on the table next to her. she'd never seen the man in front of her before, but he was definitely handsome, with blonde hair and brown eyes. his tan hands both held glasses of champagne, one of which was being held out towards her. in fear of being impolite, she took the drink with nimble hands. she was a little worried that he might've done something to the drink, but with the amount of security the crowded event held, she supposed she was safe.

"thank you.." she prompted, eyes raised.

"frank." he said quickly, an awkward laugh. "frank campbell. and you are?"

"y/n l/n." she responded, taking a sip of the drink. it tasted the same as the ones she'd had before, and she cherished the flavor.

"what're you doing all the way over here?" he asked. "i'm sure you'd be a hit out there."

she nearly laughed at his attempts of flirting. "i'm just observing." she shrugged.

he turned to follow her gaze and his eyes landed on bruce, whom was still surrounded by women. "looking at wayne, huh? he's got all of the ladies here wrapped around his finger. i'm surprised you're not over there too, unless you have a boyfriend, of course."

how ironic.

"you sound jealous." she swirled the drink in her cup, looking up at him through her eyelashes. holy shit, she was flirting back, wasn't she?

"so what if i am?" he said boldly. "i think every man in this room is."

"and why is that?" she continued, taking another sip of her drink. as she did so, her eyes trailed over to bruce. she knew he'd look over at them eventually, he was protective like that, but now he was straight up staring at her. he looked upset, and for some reason, she was almost pleased with that result. maybe, just maybe, this would show him what it was like to be in her shoes. she winked at him once before turning her attention back to frank.

she nodded along as frank spoke, but honestly, she had tuned out on a lot of it as she was looking at bruce. when he finished talking, she had a good enough idea of what he said to respond.

"so what," she summarized with a slight smirk. if only he knew who he was talking to. "you think you could show a girl a better time than he could?"

"oh, i know i could."

"ah, i see." she set her almost-empty glass down and reached for her handbag off of the table. the small, designer bag was cute, but she hated the fact that it didn't have a strap. she was digging around in it, searching for her small tin of breath mints, when suddenly she knocked the bag over. it toppled to the ground, the contents spilling everywhere. she gasped, carefully falling to her knees in order to collect her things. frank squatted down too, doing his best to help. she could see the way his eyes landed on her cleavage before trailing down to the her thigh, where she was maybe an inch away from exposing the space between her thighs.

"sorry," she laughed awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable under his gaze. his eyes never left her body as he handed her the occasional lipstick or bobby-pin from the floor. she thought she wanted this attention, in fact she'd been craving it all night, but she suddenly felt guilty as she realized what she was doing. apparently, she'd done a better job flirting than she'd thought she did, and now this man was looking at her as if he expected her to come home with him tonight. all whilst her boyfriend was watching.

speaking of bruce, she glanced up to see him staring directly at her, eyes narrowed. to make matters even worse, she and frank both reached for her phone at the same time, their hands connecting for a split second. she pulled away quickly, but frank was already making eye-contact with her, a blush on his face.

"that's everything," he said, finally looking at her face. he stood up, offering her a hand as well. despite the fact that she wanted to get up on her own, she took his hand, standing up as slowly as possible in order to keep her dress intact. the second his hand dropped hers, she was adjusting her dress again, wishing she'd worn the black dress that alfred suggested.

"oh, here," he said. she had no clue what he was doing, but suddenly, his hand was on her face. he brushed something off of her cheek and she stood there frozen. her eyes looked for bruce, and he was dismissing himself from the girls around him. he pulled out his phone as he walked, but she lost him in the crowds before she could see where he was headed. "you had a hair."

"thanks," she forced a smile. her phone buzzed in her purse, and after saying a quick apology to frank, she pulled it out. bruce's contact filled her screen, and her knees went weak as she read his text.

"Meet me in employee bathroom, two minutes. Down the stairs to your left. Don't be late."

"oh my god," she attempted to feign a dramatic gasp, but honestly, she didn't have to try that hard to fake being shocked because she genuinely was. bruce was very rarely that demanding, and if he was, it was only after a hard night out as batman. "i am so sorry, frank, but i have to go. business emergency."

"oh, no," frank seemed a little appalled at her sudden exit. "don't apologize. i hope everything is alright."

"yeah, thanks," she reached over for her glass of champagne and finished it with a long swig, ignoring his confused gaze. "it was lovely meeting you, really. i'll see you around, yeah?"

he seemed a little shocked, but she patted his shoulder once before grabbing her clutch and walking away. she walked as fast as she could in a restricting dress and heels, which, honestly, was quite slow. no one seemed to notice her as she snuck through the unlabeled doors and down the concrete stairs. she really hoped these were the correct stairs, because it took her nearly a minute to get down them without ripping her dress. immediately, a door labeled "family bathroom" appeared to her left, and in smaller letters it read "staff only".

she prayed that it was the right room when she knocked. as quick as lightning, bruce opened the door and pulled her inside. she fell against the door as he locked it behind her.

"well hello to you too," she sassed, ignoring how turned on she already was. if this was something serious and not sexual, then she was about to feel real stupid. "what's up?"

"i could ask you the same question." he said, voice barely controlled. "what's up with campbell over there?"

"oh, so you know him?" she inquired boldly. she could feel the alcohol in her veins, not enough to make her tipsy, but enough to make her words bolder.

"yeah, i do," he grumbled. "nice guy."

she laughed lightly. "that's surprising. he hates you."

"oh, does he?" bruce didn't seem phased. "and why is that?"

she pushed herself off of the door, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. "oh nothing much," she smirked up at him. "just thought he could fuck me better than you."

this caught bruce's attention and his eyes hardened. his large hands found place on her waist, pulling her closer.

"and would you let him?" his voice was raspy. he knew she wouldn't, they'd had that conversation before when they were actually being sincere, but he had to see what she'd say now.

"depends," she ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "would you fuck handsy-pansy? i'm sure she thinks she's better than me."

"handsy" pansy was some blonde woman whom seemed to show up at every event, and each time she saw bruce, she'd fawn over him the whole time, laughing at everything he said and always touching him.

bruce pretended to think, watching as she scrunched her face up at him. she knew he was just doing it to get a rise out of her, and she planned to return the favor.

"maybe i'll go and talk to frank after all," she pulled away, pretending to reach for the door. "i'm sure he'd love to have me in his bed after all of this is over."

the next thing she knew, bruce grabbed her hand. he pulled her back, spinning her enough so that their chests collided and he could slam his lips against hers. the kiss was rough and passionate, and she found herself wrapping her hands around his neck to stay stable. his larger hands gripped her waist, slowly moving down to her ass with a harsh squeeze. she moaned in his mouth, arching her back against him.

"fuck you better than me, huh?" he growled, pulling away. he pulled her by her waist, shoving her towards the sink. her hands latched onto the counter and she could see bruce standing behind her in the mirror. she bit her lip as he grabbed the long dress, bunching it up at her waist, where it surprisingly stayed. she watched his breath catch in his throat when he realized she only had lace on underneath. he didn't say anything, simply palming her smooth ass before reaching between her legs. his calloused fingers slid over her soaked folds and she threw her head back, a bright blush on her face.

"you're already so wet," he commented, pulling away. he met her eyes in the mirror. "was all of this for him?"

"no," she shook her head quickly, going against any of her usual bratty instincts. "it's all for you, bruce."

"all for me, huh?" he repeated. as he spoke, she arched her back against him, attempting to grind herself against his thigh. his hands found place on her hips, and her actions were halted abruptly. his grip was rough, but not quite enough to be painful.

"i don't know," he tsked, making eye contact with her through the mirror. "you seemed pretty pleased with yourself out with campbell, acting like a slut, all whilst wearing the brand new dress i bought you."

"god," she whined, biting her lip. the way he was staring her down through the mirror, thumbs caressing her hips, was driving her crazy. "please, bruce! i'm yours, all yours."

"now you're begging?" he asked slyly, fingers moving down her hips and to her thighs, where he then stroked her skin softly. "so eager to be fucked like the slut you are, huh?"

"so what if i am?" she challenged, trying to slyly rub her thighs together. her actions didn't go unnoticed, and bruce roughly separated her legs. she nearly fell, leaning forward onto the sink.

"you beg me to go out more," he murmured under his breath. through the mirror, she could see him unbuckling his belt. "and this is the treatment i get. you want me to fuck you? fine, i'll fuck you. i'll fuck you so good the whole party will hear you, and campbell will know you're mine. that's what you wanted, right? for me to show you i care?"

his words were almost sappy, but his tone was the complete opposite.

"i've cared the whole time," his gruff voice continued. she heard the clink of his pants falling to his ankles. "it drove me crazy watching guys look you up and down, talking about you like you're their next meal."

he didn't give her time to respond, because he suddenly slid inside of her. she let out an airy moan, manicured fingers gripping the counter as she adjusted to the quick intrusion. the momentary pain was quickly being masked with pleasure as he leaned forward, craning his neck to place a soft kiss on shoulder. though the moment was tender, his voice was still a husky whisper in her ear. "god, if only they could see you now, see how you're all mine."

the next thing she knew, he was pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, snapping his hips against her so much that she felt her entire body bounce with each movement. she tried to make eye contact through the mirror, but she couldn't bear to keep her head up. a constant string of airy moans were leaving her mouth, and had she not been about to collapse, she would've brought a hand up to silence them.

"fuck, bruce.." she managed to sputter out. his pace was relentless; it seemed his hours of being batman really contributed to his stamina.

"what?" he practically growled from behind her. "you can't take it?"

"i can!" she cried out, head thrown back as she struggled to speak. "i-" her next sentence got cut off by a startled moan as one of bruce's hands left her hips and snaked around to pressure her clit.

she moaned out his name as he continued his assault, his finger now rubbing slowly against the bundle of nerves.

"fuck," he panted from behind her. "you gonna cum for me, yeah?"

she nodded, her body shaking in his arms. she wasn't sure how much longer she could take it before she collapsed onto the floor, but god did she love it.

"i need words, sweetheart." he said, his halting the actions of his fingers. he was still pumping into her, likely because he too was close, but she immediately whined at the loss of contact against her sensitive clit.

"yes!" she choked out, only to then moan again when he twiddled her clit between the pads of his calloused fingers.

it didn't take long before she could feel herself nearing an orgasm. biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming, y/n came roughly, legs shaking so hard she was scared her knees were going to buckle out from under her. she expected bruce to slow down, maybe give her a moment to recuperate, but his pace only quickened to a near impossible state. he was back to holding her hips with both hands, using his virtually painful grip on her body in order to pound into her even harder. she was shaking like a limp ragdoll in his arms, incoherent moans leaving her open mouth. she was even more sensitive than before, and she was sure anyone walking by would be able to hear her.

right when she was sure she'd get whiplash from being jerked around so much, not that she was complaining, she felt bruce let go inside of her, his liquid coating her insides. once he was finished, he slowed to a stop and slipped softly out of her. she almost immediately fell to the floor, but his now gentle grip was quick to grab onto her.

he spun her around to face him, supporting her weight with ease. he gave her an amused smile, and she couldn't help but just stare at him, her face still stuck in a fucked-out haze. her makeup was smeared, and there were many loose, frizzy hairs stuck to her face. she managed to pull her dress back down to cover herself, but it was full of wrinkles, and there was now a wet patch on the crotch.

bruce pulled her into his chest and leaned down to press a lasting kiss onto her lips. she brought her weak arms up to wrap around his neck, and he continued to hold onto her, now moving his hands up to her waist rather than her sensitive hips. the kiss was slow and soft, a large contrast to his actions only moments ago.

"what'd ya say we ditch this joint, yeah?" he said once he'd pulled away.

"but bruce.." she began to murmur, obviously still dazed.

"the gala can wait," he reassured. "i'm not needed there anyways. what matters to me is getting you home."

she frowned up at him, but it really didn't take long for her to give in. she hated to admit it, but with how rough he had been, there was some much-needed aftercare in store for her. and knowing bruce, he was going to make it his life's mission to make sure she is as comfortable as possible.

"alright.." she said eventually. she went to step out of his grasp, only for her legs to buckle under her weight on the first step. stifling a laugh, bruce scooped her into his arms bridal-style before she could even process what had happened.

"you still think he could fuck you better than me?" he teased as he pushed open the door. all she could do was giggle in response, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her down the corridor and into their waiting car. as she'd suspected, she was showered in warm baths, cozy cuddles, and her favorite snacks for the rest of the evening, and though she was definitely sore, there was not a single ounce of regret in her mind.

#smut #batman #batman smut #dcu #bruce wayne #bruce wayne smut #robert pattinson #battinson #battinson smut #christian bale

307 notes · View notes

hopesangelsprite · 1 year ago

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Battinson x reader

Warnings ⚠️: zero plot whatsoever, pure filth, mating press, overstim, male moaning/whimpering, dubcon maybe (??? Idk), unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it bros), creampie obviously, marking if you squint

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

Protecting an entire city would take a toll on anyone, so of course some kind of stress relief would be on order. And if that someone was constantly sleep deprived, full of internal conflict, and said city happened to be Gotham... that poor soul had better found a damn good stress reliever.

That's where you come in, pinned underneath your cities' Vengeance for however long he'd keep you there. Night after night, sunrise after sunrise. Tonight was no different than any other except the fact that your broody boy toy had more of an appetite than usual.

Right now, all you can feel is him and all he can feel is you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder just how long he'd felt this way, just how much frustration he harbored within himself. But the drag of his member against your warm walls is enough to dismiss the thought completely.

"Fucking hell.", Bruce breaths into your shoulder at your clenching walls, "You're so good to me.". Butterflies invade your stomach, intertwining themselves with the stir of your orgasm. You're close to coming again for the nth time this session. Just what had he seen on those damp, dark streets tonight.

"Y-you mean it?", you whimper out as if he isn't fucking your brains into the mattress beneath the two of you. He groans and nods feverishly as his hand abandons your tits to grip the headboard that's banging loudly against the wall. "We're gonna be together forever, princess. Won't let anyone hurt you... just me and you.", he promises in that sweet voice of his. The sweetness of his words and the smoothness of his thrusts mingle perfectly enough to send you farther over the edge. You call his name as you continue coming.

And he talks you through it, praising you and whispering the sweetest nothings. He never misses a stroke, thoroughly fucking you through your orgasm and well beyond it. Your walls continue to flutter and your body feels scorching underneath his. The tips of your fingers as well as the palms of your hands buzz, a telltale sign of overstimulation. You mewl at the feeling of another orgasm building already. Then, his pace changes as he begins to lose himself for the first time tonight. This time you're unable to stop him.

"Fuck.", he swears as his hand leaves the headboard and grips the pillow next to your head. Bruce's face falls back into the crook of your neck and he audibly moans. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, the smell of his leather suit now completely masked by the smell of sex in the air.

His pace quickens and more curses fall from his reddened lips. You mewl and begin to squirm as the overstimulation starts to grow far too much. Though your brains have been thoroughly fucked out, you manage to beg, "P-please... I can't-". You cut yourself off with a loud wanton moan as Bruce's other hand slips between you from your other thigh to press on your lower abdomen. He feels so good inside of you it's unbearable.

Your moans spur him on as he presses a bit harder. "Need... need you to come for me. One more time.", he requests drawing a whine from you. "Can't, 's too much!", you whine as you feel your thighs shake on either side of him. He huffs as he presses again earning pretty sobs of pained pleasure from your puffy lips. "You can, princess, know you can. Said you could take it, didn't you?", he encourages in between pretty moans and you can hear his sanity slowly slipping away. Still, you protest once more.

He growls lowly as his hand dips lower to begin mercilessly toying with your swollen clit. You yelp as you reach between your bodies to weakly tug at his wrist. He's stronger than you so your struggling waxes futile. "Bruce-", you try to reason with him, "Too much!". He quickens his ministrations at your words and you cry out as you feel the familiar knot begin to form in the pit of your stomach.

"Shh shh shh, it's okay... almost there, princess.", he whispers through labored breaths, "I'm almost there.". You want to tell him that you almost are too, but you can't seem to form the proper words. His grip on the pillow tightens, and the movement of his hips becomes jerky.

"Fuck, please I need it so bad... So, so badly.", he moans quietly, almost to himself, "please, please, please..". Hearing him completely lose his composure nearly throws you off the edge. The way he's begging damn near sends you into orbit. "Pretty girl's gonna let me cum inside, right? Please?", he asks and your heart swells with love. Who are you to deny him when he's asking so politely?

You nod as your vision fills with stars, "Yes!". He whimpers into your neck as his frantic thrusts signal his impending release. You begin to squirm harder, and his hand slides from the pillow to grip your hip. His hold on you is strong despite the soft sounds leaving his mouth.

He presses you farther into the mattress, and you're sure you'll have a bruise on your hip the size of his hand tomorrow morning. "Jus' a little bit more..", he trails off to bite at your hickey covered shoulder. "Need to finish, I'll be so f-fucking good to you... be so fuckin' good to my princess, promise.", his words slur together. With that, you come for the umpteenth time and he's not too far behind.

The both of you shudder with overwhelming pleasure, and weak whimpers of each other's names seem to be the only thing either one of you can articulate. Hot, thick ropes of his cum spurt into your spasming walls painting them white and filling you up so much it begins to leak out.

Secretly, you hope Gotham's streets keep sending him back to you even more needy than this.

#battinson #batman #battinson x reader #battinson x you #gotham #the batman #robert pattinson #smut #dc universe #he's so cute #he's so babygirl #male whimpering

526 notes · View notes

waynewifey · 1 year ago

Note

Well, can you write a batman x fem!reader where the reader is a super hero (like catwomans superhero version or smth) and they just keep meeting at crime scenes and always flirt and stuff and end up dating?

obsessed much? — b.w blurb

summary: request above!

pairing: bruce wayne x superhero!reader

warnings: murder; hero wears acape

word count: 360

A/N: hii tysm for this request! i haven’t been writing much lately since my ‘aftermath’ fic, so this isn’t as big as you probably wanted, it just really made me want to write it as a blurb. maybe i’ll write a full fic about it later. also, i know a lot of people hate cape-wearing heroes but i absolutely love the goofy cliche, so i had to add that in. let me know what you guys think!

he’s kneeling near the body with the putrid smell of blood flowing into his nostrils. the puzzle pieces are coming together, but there’s still a big one missing. the shadows devours him into the room. what isn’t he seeing? slowly, the sound of heels hitting the ground approach his back.

“i thought heroes didn’t do investigations.” the first reply is a scoff, then the cape rustling.

“i don’t,” she says, “but this one hits home.” bruce turns around to stare the deep round eyes, one of the few things he could see underneath her mask. her suit fits perfectly in her curves, the stretchy and non-flammable fabric accommodating her fight needs. perfect for running around town. it wasn’t bulletproof, though, because the stone-hard skin was all the protection she needed. the cape was just for fun. “i saved this dude from a train wreck last week. thought it was a malfunction, it sure as hell doesn’t seem that way anymore.”

“you think someone is targeting you.” she hums in response, a chill running down her spine. all she wanted to do was to use her gifts for the good of the city. somehow, that ended up with the total of four murders so far.

“they want to get my attention, i just don’t know why.” a pout appears in her puffy lips. he wonders what they feel like. he takes the plastic gloves off, staying with the leather ones, and lays them on the floor.

“who wouldn’t?” as he gets up, a snarky grin lightens her face up. they’ve always been this good in making the other forget the bodies in the room. literally.

“obsessed much?” one step in his direction leaves them inches apart. he still thinks it’s way too far. the height difference has her looking up, batting her eyelashes. “maybe you’re the killer, batboy.”

“it’s batman.” his voice is baritone and raspy, and she can feel his warm breath on her cheeks. one move and his hands would be on her. her heart beats shamelessly on her chest, like drums inside her body. his gaze is so penetrating she has to look away before answering.

“right. cute.”

#battinson #battinson x you #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #batman x you #the batman #batman #robert pattinson x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne insert #bruce wayne #dc universe

583 notes · View notes

ellesthots · 2 months ago

Text

Fateful Beginnings

XXXIV. “the affliction of pity”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce is forced to look in the mirror after the next morning’s antics with you.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, bickering, hurt/comfort, splash of angst

words: 7k

a/n: more Alfred in this chapter !! let’s goooo !! more of a few things 😌 pretty significant chapter, might I say 💬 setting some seeds…

As you rolled over in bed the next morning, everything felt normal. Until you remembered you were in his clothes, in his house, and you’d hugged.

And the gun to your head. That too.

You checked your phone, at a measly eight percent. There were two missed calls from Dr. Crane. You sat up in a rush and called him back, worried something might have changed. He picked up on the last ring this time, a shift that caused a wash of anxiety to run through you.

“Ms. Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I missed your call.”

“As am I. How was Mr. Wayne last night?”

Shit. In the bustle of the evening, you’d forgotten. You lowered your voice. “Fine. We were able to touch base, and everything seems to be going well.” You stammered along. “I didn’t see any of the side effects you mentioned, either.”

“When will you see him again?” His tone was terse. Evidently he didn’t like when you didn’t answer.

“Today, actually.” You hoped he wouldn’t ask why. He didn’t.

“I don’t need to remind you of the stakes. I anticipate another update tonight or tomorrow.” The line clicked off. You wished you hadn’t taken the call first-thing, and struggled to shake it off as you walked down to get more Tylenol. You wondered if this much acetaminophen was good for you, but figured this much pain wasn’t, either.

Thankfully you didn’t have to dig for the Tylenol, or a glass, because they both sat at the counter beside the fridge. Your head hurt less, but your leg was positively throbbing. Bruce wasn’t in the kitchen, which you were grateful for. Last night’s memory was rapidly sinking into you with an anchor weight, particularly how you’d offset your conversation until some time this morning. You didn’t feel nearly as uninhibited now, and didn’t know if you’d be able to bring anything up.

You grabbed a protein shake and walked up the first stairwell. You held in a gasp when Alfred appeared, dressed immaculately as ever, as if he got a lovely full night’s rest. Part of you suspected he heard your shrieking cries, but he didn’t give it away if he did. “Morning, Miss. Would you like breakfast?”

You held the shake up. “I can just have this, thanks.”

“It’s no issue. I’ll be making some for myself and the boy. Come down in ten minutes.” He waved dismissively at your ‘meal’ and headed downstairs. You wondered what the hell he could make with only a few veggies, chicken, and ice cream. Maybe he had a secret butler lair with anything Rapunzel could ever want.

You turned to walk up the second set of stairs when a sleepy voice halted you. “How’d you sleep?”

You didn’t look at him, forcing your eyes to remain forward. Anxious butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the memory of him, on the brink of passing out, holding you while you sobbed. Your throat tightened, shy. “Fine.”

“Want to talk while Alfred cooks?”

You didn’t, but that gave you a time constraint. Alfred would save you from whatever awkward, embarrassing territory you and him might venture into. You still didn’t face him. “Okay.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Where is there?”

“The study, your room, mine. Anywhere.”

Your cheeks reddened at how genuine he still seemed. You’d fully expected him to act like last night never happened. You didn’t want to go in either of the bedrooms, and you eyed the old man’s study just up the stairs. You gestured to it, and heard him follow close behind.

The room was exactly as you remembered it; a thick wood table with a seat behind and in front. There was a decent-sized rug by a fireplace with some newspapers scattered around it. You cringed thinking about sitting across from him so officially, so you went to sit on the floor. He followed your lead, sitting a few feet away, closest to the papers. You fiddled with the unopened drink in your hand, moving its weight from palm to palm.

“How’s your pain?”

You sighed, an embarrassed grin exploiting your cheeks. “An attentive host.”

He waited, and you glanced up at him for the first time since you’d hugged. He had the same pants, and a different shirt. You inhaled so quickly you almost coughed. “I’m sorry about last night,”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m serious. It was weird and awkward of me,”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You shook your head loosely, biting your lip. His eyes focused there a moment before flitting down.

“I want to help.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears beginning to well. You were frustrated and self-conscious of how much strain you’d put on him. “You’ve been nothing but helpful.”

Bruce was quiet, watching you try to force back tears and channel your energy into one of his protein shakes. He didn’t know how helpful he’d be perceived when, after breakfast, he’d have to have another talk with you, essentially demanding that you’re never seen in the city again. He pondered how manipulative it was not to disclose that prior to asking you to open up, which clammed him from speaking.

The room felt staticky, like if you reached into the air, the tip of your fingers might spark. You figured he was being quiet so you had space to speak. The skeptical part of you wanted to tie your lips closed, ranting about how he didn’t want to give this to you, he felt he had to. The sensitive side yearned for someone to hear your pain, and he was being persistent about it. It was blood-curdlingly difficult, but you took the first step—chucking the words out of you while forcing your anxieties to the back.

“I’m just lonely.” You stared down at your hands, setting down the drink so you could wring them. “I thought coming here for school would give me community.” Your voice was shaky but you tried not to think about it, throwing the words out as quickly as they formed. “It made it all worse. I had this fantasy that the size of the city would energize me, but it’s just spitting me out.” Tears sprung to your eyes, forcing you to pause, rubbing your eyes hard. “Sorry.”

He could feel the desolation oozing off of you. Every time you apologized made him more indignant. “I’m not judging.” You glanced at him as you removed your hands from accosting your delicate corneas, and he nodded for you to continue.

The combination of his attentive presence and kind reassurance made the tears pass the floodgates. The words were coming quicker now, less inhibited. “Being home isn’t fun either, my mom’s cancer is just, they don’t want to talk about it.” Frustration bled. “They’re acting like everything is fine, like nothing is different. I don’t like being around them and I hate being away.” Your throat was constricting as you held back full-bodied sobs.

Anger was beginning to creep in, your face contorting into a glare. You still weren’t looking at him, looking off to the side, unfocused. “I had this friend group back home but they don’t give a shit about me. I don’t know if they ever did. I have Mar here, but she just parties all the time, and she didn’t even, she didn’t even ask how I was before she left yesterday.” You could hardly believe it hadn’t been twenty four hours yet. You could hardly believe how whiny you were acting.

The devastation and anger was riling you up, making the words spill out before you even comprehended them. “And I fucking hate that I’m even saying all of this right now. The gun, the fucking, the interview, you breaking down in that fucking alley wouldn’t have even happened if I weren’t meddling!” You were beginning to pant.

“Hey,”

You didn’t hear him, and started shaking, breathing so fast you could hyperventilate. Your thighs were starting to become a receptacle for your tears. “I thought he was gonna kill me, I’ve never seen a gun that close; I yelled at you and, kicked you out and, and, you’re tied up and,”

His hand on your knee made you shriek, slapping your palms to your cheeks as you folded over, wailing. “Everyone’s gonna die, everyone around me,” you gasped between every word, which rapidly devolved into trying to catch your breath in painful puffs.

He was melting like butter. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“Look at me.”

You wanted to say no, but you didn’t want to further inconvenience him. Meeting his concentrated gaze filled you with cavernous shame, your eyes stuttering down to his chin in subtle avoidance.

“Stop apologizing.”

Another lump jumped to your throat.

“Can I hug you?”

You nodded, relief pooling in your stomach at his request. You wanted another hug from him even if you weren’t losing your mind. “Please.”

This was foreign to him, but it was the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped his arms around you again, and it felt just as desperate, just as necessary, even for him. You didn’t cry as much as when he hugged you the night before, seemingly getting a lot of it out beforehand, and he struggled not to stiffen when your breathing began to even out, and your sniffles waned. Quickly. Very quickly. Your shaking slowed until the only movement was your breathing. That ‘please’ stuck to him like velcro.

It was extremely disorienting. He’d experienced people clinging to him in the suit, looking at the cowl with a frantic desire to be soothed, but never just as him. Not once. He didn’t know he could calm someone like this as Bruce.

You pulled out of the hug and sniffed, getting up to leave. You almost apologized. “I need to blow my nose.”

Alone in the study, he was worried he’d panic. The way you’d said it, it seemed not like you’d wanted a hug, but that you’d wanted a hug from him. ‘Please’ like you’d wanted one already but wouldn’t ask. ‘Please’ with your eyebrows knitting with neediness, ‘please’ cutting through the tears and shame even when his words didn’t make a dent.

He sat in a haze of dismay as disappointment crowded him at your departure. This wasn’t good.

He stood up to leave, mentally rehearsing a ‘need to shower before breakfast’ shout as he walked past the hallway bath, but you’d already come back.

Both of you wanted to hug again, but neither said so.

“Setting the table.” Alfred’s voice floated from downstairs. It almost sounded like he was whistling.

Bruce walked past, but you caught his elbow. “Thanks.”

Your lashes were still clumped together from crying. Your eyes were puffy and red. His hand twitched to wipe the tears still lingering on your cheekbone, but he cringed instead. “Don’t thank me.” He hurried down the stairs and hastily shut the door to his room.

Doing your best to ignore the tinge of frustration coating his tone, you met Alfred in the kitchen. The scent of a fresh omelet wafted from the stove out to the foyer. He had three table settings in the same fashion as last time, and you sat at your place with your hands tucked in your lap. Alfred was whistling, a jazzy sort of tune, as he scooped up the first one and walked toward you. “Same ingredients as your last visit. No peaches.”

Visit. What a kind way to dress it up. You thanked him as you took the plate, suddenly struck by a hazy memory of Bruce tilting your chin up to drink Benadryl. You swore you could feel his finger there now. You swallowed.

You weren’t in love with eggs by any means, but Alfred made them look salivating. It was plated to perfection, intimidating you nearly into not wanting to eat it. When he walked over with a pitcher of orange juice, you wondered where they’d come from—until you noticed an empty bag of orange netting sitting across the kitchen in the pantry. A few rinds were discarded near the stove, and you hurried to pour some for yourself. Bruce was woken up every morning with fresh squeezed juice? Or at least had the option?

The coolness of the juice was everything you needed, a balm to your hot throat. A satisfied chuckle came from the stove as you reached to pour a second glass. “Sumo citrus. Out of season, but still quite stunning.”

“I’ll drink you out of house and home.”

Alfred finished dishing up, and pulled out his chair before frowning. You followed his eyes to Bruce’s empty seat. After the short pause, he wiped his hands. “Ah, well. We’ll get started without him.” His cheery demeanor was infiltrated by a short grimace, undoubtedly perturbed by Bruce’s absence. “If you fancy any salt, pepper, let me know.”

He’d seasoned it spectacularly, and you told him so after your first few bites. Your stomach felt like an empty pit, realizing you hadn’t eaten more than the odd granola bar in days. You finished quickly, leaving little space for conversation, and he gestured to the stove. “Would you like more? I made an extra.”

You nodded, and he took your plate with a wink. “Finally I have someone who enjoys my cooking.”

“It’s stellar, really.” You eyed the orange juice, now with only a third of the pitcher remaining. You ate the second omelet, surprisingly just as warm as the first. Alfred had just finished his, taking a sip of his juice.

“Thank you. I needed that.” Your eyes trailed across the table to the glaringly empty seat, feeling dejected. He probably hadn’t come because you’d been too much, gone too far. Not only had you pushed the boundaries, you’d obliterated them. Why had you agreed to hug him again? Why had you let yourself lose control in front of him, again?

You’d forgotten how perceptive his butler was, too. He set his utensils in the middle of the plate, untucking his napkin from his lap. “I apologize for his behavior, Miss. It’s truly abhorrent.”

You shook your head so fast you saw stars. “No, it’s fine. He’s had a long day, and night,”

“So have you.” He gathered both of your plates and disposed of them in the sink. He rested his hip against the counter, tucking one hand into his pant pocket, the other grabbing the cane resting nearby. He sighed. “Feel free to have the rest of the juice, a shame for it to go to waste.”

He looked tired. Not as tired as the last time you came, but nonetheless. You obliged, already feeling the pressure on your bladder. You must’ve had half a gallon of this stuff.

Alfred’s head cocked toward the foyer. Bruce appeared not a moment later, his expression distant and cold. He slid into his seat and dug in without comment, not looking at either of you.

You set your glass down, your stomach flipping. You had half a mind he had simply taken too long in the shower, and tried his best to hurry, but no. In the same outfit, same dry hair, like he’d just been ignoring you.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Alfred glance up to the ceiling before tossing a dish rag over his shoulder, getting to work at the sink. You stood to join him, but he waved you off. “Appreciate it, Miss; you need to recuperate. I’ll manage.”

You stood there between the table and the sink, the already dim energy in the room withering further with every second Bruce remained unspeaking. You blinked a few times, unnerved and upset, walking quickly out of the room. You ducked around the corner, hoping they thought you gone. A few moments later, Alfred spoke.

“Bruce.”

“Don’t want to hear it.” They were both speaking hushedly, though Bruce was admittedly not trying as hard to muddle his volume.

Alfred’s tone was the coldest you’d ever heard it. “I’ve never been more embarrassed.”

Bruce didn’t respond, only scraped the fork against the plate as he likely hurried his meal.

“She’s been in a terrible situation,”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.” His tone was back to that very first night; back to the hallway at City Hall when you’d blackmailed him. That same haughty, defensive, biting timbre.

“I’m telling you regardless.” The sink stopped. “I fear you’ve become too desensitized for your own good.”

More scraping.

Alfred sighed, his tone gentling. “I know the last week has been difficult,”

Bruce pushed his seat out. “Going to talk to her.”

You tiptoed further into the corner, cloaking yourself in shadow.

“What about?”

“Getting her to leave.”

You’d never before heard Alfred scoff, but now you had. It was freakily uncharacteristic. “You’re better than that, Bruce. Do not.”

“Or what?” Bruce’s tone was mocking, the chair making a final thud into the table. You bit your cheek to abate the rising anxiety. Of course he wanted you gone. Of course you were nothing more than a nuisance. Rage nipped at your skin thinking about how he’d led you on, thinking that he might have cared.

Before Alfred could reply, Bruce emerged into the foyer, and immediately caught on to your presence. You glared at him, feeling tears smart your lashline again. His face fell with his shoulders and you huffed past him. “Y/N,”

“I’m grabbing my phone and you’re taking me home.” You were already halfway up the stairs, but he was catching up.

“Stop,”

You pressed on, breaking into a run up the second set.

He grabbed your wrist and you yanked it back, barely catching your balance. You whipped around, chest heaving, eyes wild. “Sorry for overstaying my welcome.”

You spun around and ran to your room, trying to slam the door but his foot stopped it. Tears streamed down your cheeks in silent fury. You grabbed your dress, shoes, and phone. “I won’t bother you at City Hall, don’t worry.”

“It’s for your safety.” His stepping into the room crowded it. He sounded exasperated. “You need to leave Gotham. Immediately.”

“You don’t get to boss me around.”

He scoffed. “Less than a week and you’ve already been threatened.”

“And he’s in jail whether I leave or not.” No longer giving a shit, you shimmied off the sweats and yanked off his shirt, leaving you in your bra and underwear. He averted his eyes and stared at the wall, audibly scowling. You threw them at him and they hit his shoulder. You wrangled your dress back on, still damp and awfully smelly. You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on your loafers.

“It could happen again. You’re a target now.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He side-eyed you, checking if you were clothed. He loathed that he knew the color of your underwear now. “And I’m not cleaning you off the sidewalk.”

“Bruce Wayne would never have to do such custodial work.” Your tone was dripping in sarcasm and mockery, forcing him to grit his teeth. You were riling him up, you both knew it. You were riling each other, teetering on the precipice of words better left unsaid.

He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. You glared at it. “You were going to leave last week.”

You finished fighting with the heel of your shoe, finally able to rush past him. He stepped in front of the door and your heart lurched into your mouth, eyes flashing. “You are not blocking me.”

He hesitated before stepping aside. When you put your hand on the doorknob he did too. “If this is because of last Thursday,”

“You don’t want it, I get it.” You jerked the door open, the phone falling out of your hand. You both stooped to reach it at the same time, your hands colliding once more. His hand tightened atop yours, forcing you to look at him. You ripped the phone away and swung the door open, leaving into the hall. He followed you out, draining the last bit of resolve you had.

“Is it a sin to make sure you’re alright?” You bit back the last half of what you wanted to say: ‘I already see how Alfred’s being punished for it’.

Bruce glared at you. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“It’s not just you.”

“None of it should be.”

“I wanna see where this election goes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You bristled, hard. “I do. I want to report on it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that? In a city you hate?”

“I hate the culture. Which I could influence.” You made the mistake of wincing down toward your thigh, and he stepped closer.

“I want to help you.”

You glowered at him, unappreciative of his indecisiveness. Did he want to help you, or hide away in his room to try and forget you existed? “Would’ve been helpful to show up to breakfast.”

Bruce groaned. You had a physical reaction to the sound.

You hated it more than most things, more than you hated humid hundred degree days and men catcalling—but even when he was angry, and distant, and weird, you wanted to stay in his orbit. You needed to, or Dr. Crane would have your head… and maybe his. “I’m the only one outside of this place who knows. I can be a tool.”

“I have enough tools.” He hated the piece of him that wanted to give in. He hated how his voice lost its edge the closer you got to the stairs.

You were also excruciatingly aware of how close you were to the exit, and how much you didn’t want to take it. Squeezing your eyes shut and imagining the Bruce that cried into your palm was the only way to cool your temper. His hugs lingered not too far behind… if they were even real. The only thing that actually moved the words past your teeth was remembering how deeply you regretted being cold to him at your apartment. “I want you to have someone to go to. And I want someone to go to.”

Your candor surprised both of you.

“It’s not worth throwing your life away.”

The wear of this argument wasn’t sitting right in your chest, and it forced your expectations lower. You shifted quickly back to the matter at hand. “I’m staying in Gotham, at least for now, whether you want to acknowledge me or not.” You didn’t need to be on good terms to keep an eye on him. He’d still come to City Hall meetings, and you’d be able to give some updates to Dr. Crane until he was out of the woods. It would only be a few more weeks. And you would enjoy getting to hear the city’s voice, trying your hand with more interviews.

You turned and set off downstairs. “What’ll it be this time? Packing me in the trunk?”

He barely registered what you said, his eyes fixed on your back as you descended the steps. ‘I’m just lonely’.

He grabbed his keys and walked to the garage with you, instructing you to lie flat again. “I’ll drop you off a few blocks away.”

Staring at the black ceiling of Bruce’s car while you bumped through back alleys and cobbled streets was, to put it lightly, depressing. You were starting to get used to the pain, utilizing it to distract from your whiplash disappointment and deep-seeded fear about being home alone tonight. At some point you must have closed your eyes and been lulled asleep, because his voice startled you into sitting up.

“Just a few blocks south. Closest I could get.”

When he noticed you’d fallen asleep, he drove around a few more miles so you wouldn’t be disturbed. He only started winding back in the direction of your apartment when he heard you begin to whimper. His hands had tightened on the wheel, his teeth gritting, as they so often did around you. He thought he’d mastered letting Alfred’s disappointment seep like guilt through his skin, but he couldn’t stop the thought he might be misrepresenting you.

Selfishly, he’d been centering himself in your distress, when in actuality… your life was bigger than that. You had parents to worry about. Friends to be disappointed with. A burgeoning journalism career to dive into, to which the corners of the internet were behaving like piranhas. A gun to your head, and an empty apartment in a city that genuinely seemed hell-bent on hurting you. Spitting you out, as you so eloquently put it.

Maybe he was pitying you, now.

The Moore was not-so-conveniently located on one of the main streets of town, forcing him back into a side alley between an old pharmacy and a deli that wasn’t open half the time. In the early days he’d stow the Batmobile here. The brick hadn’t changed much, a few new potholes. Wasn’t frequented enough to be as decimated as the roadway. He parked here when he’d visited you those few times.

He woke you, and while you roused, pulled your recorder and notebook out of the passenger glovebox. He’d circled back to Miller’s car on the way to your friend’s before the police got to it. He just hoped you didn’t make too big a deal out of his remembering.

Thankfully, you didn’t. You looked a bit surprised, but took it without comment. You looked disheveled, tired, pained. The passenger door swung open after he told you which direction to walk.

“Can your friend stay with you?”

You’d nearly shut the door on him before he spoke. Too tired to lead with irritation, you gave him a lackluster response. “It’s Friday. She’ll be out clubbing.”

You hesitated before shutting the door, wanting to thank him, but too hurt to commit. You fought not to think about how his laser eyes were focused on your back as you walked away. Struggled not to recall the weight of him.

Walking around Gotham in midday was like walking around an entirely different environment. Late morning to mid-afternoon was the only time kids were seen, and only with older siblings or adult family members. You couldn’t imagine growing up here. How it might harden a person.

It was a massive triumph pushing open your apartment door while holding a feeling bordering on terror that someone was waiting to jump you. You rushed in and shut the door like when you’d watched something scary as a kid. When the anxiety got too high, and you were positively certain a demon was rushing behind you to beat you to your bed.

In a blink you’d shoved a chair under the handle. Once in your room you walked its perimeter, checking all corners of the bath, under the bed, and resigned to shoving the couch in front of the door. A hazard if there was an emergency, but you couldn’t prioritize anything else right now.

You went to get water at the sink, feeling like a paranoid freak inspecting the jenga at your entryway. Once a-fucking-gain your thoughts wandered to the city’s prince; how silly did he think you? All this over one gun? I take fifty billion a night. A dark streak of violence ran through him, one that wasn’t evident in his arms, or gazing into his sleepy puppy eyes… You slammed the rest of the water, almost choking on it.

If you thought too long, you would break down, so you drew up an imaginary list of tasks to keep yourself tethered, trying to ignore how the water was beginning to sour the more you smelled the city’s backwash on your clothes. First: shower. Second: nap.

It was a Herculean effort not pressing DOWN when the elevator doors opened. Alfred was sitting across from it in the kitchen, his hands clasped together on the table. His gaze was focused precisely at eye-level, like he’d been a statue primed for Bruce’s arrival. “I want to talk with you.”

He looked at the ground, stepping out. “I’m going upstairs.”

“No, Bruce.” His tone was deadly serious, with a shaky undercurrent. Bruce conceded, as he so often did once Alfred got to this point. He didn’t come closer, only stepping out enough for the elevator doors to close, making up the difference by stepping to the side.

“I’m disappointed in you. Deeply.”

Bruce stared at the ground. He figured he’d have something to say to him about your leaving, like he had any idea what he was talking about.

Seemingly sensing his frustration, Alfred’s tone softened. “Seems to me you both could use a friend.”

“Look where it got you.” With a shrug of his shoulder, he gestured to where Alfred was sitting. It was evident by the way Alfred’s face fell, and his strict tone, he was referring to Riddler’s blowing up the top of Wayne Tower.

He didn’t miss a beat with his curt response. “Look at where it’s gotten you.”

Bruce slowly glanced up, struggling to see the full features of his face in the unlit kitchen, but still managed to meet his eye, sensing plenty more where that came from.

“Dory and I are getting older. If you keep following this path,”

“Alfred, stop.”

“I’m afraid you’ll end up entirely alone.”

The room’s ensuing silence chewed at that word, alone. Bruce wondered how he could slip past the man without escalating things. He knew he wouldn’t be let off without responding. He knew these situations all too well. “So I should risk someone’s life, for what? Temporary company?

“People come and go, that’s how life works.”

Bruce stepped forward, trying to work up the courage to storm past. The fuel wasn’t entirely there yet. “I’m not speeding up the process.” No matter how many times he explained this to him, he never got it. He never understood he was doing what he had to do, and that—

“The least you can do is be kind to her.”

Alfred was slipping under his skin again. “I am.”

The butler’s voice raised slightly. “By leaving her alone?”

“It’s for her safety.” He took another step, tempting a getaway.

“Or for yours?”

Bruce blinked hard. The old man never failed to tie a rocket to his shoes, and he propelled himself across the kitchen and nearly made it halfway before he spoke again.

“Don’t think I forgot what you said that night.” Alfred shifted in his seat, the boy now a few feet closer. He knew he was losing him, his hairpin trigger temper always half pressed when he spoke. Sometimes he felt like Bruce was waiting for him to give up with his fingers crossed behind his back.

“Year after year you’ve denied my every demand for your safety. Every time you’ve struck it down, as if each night you’re out planting flowers.”

Bruce looked everywhere but the table’s vicinity. “I don’t know what point you think you’re making.” He cloaked his words in as much snarl as he could, hoping he would get the hint and stop where he stood, before stuffing the air with more life lessons.

“Yet, after my accident, I noticed you changed the suit. You began coming home earlier.” Alfred stood up, and Bruce stepped back. He leaned on the cane, taking off his glasses with the other hand. “You know what you do is dangerous.”

He let out a brittle, taunting laugh. “That’s what I‘m saying.” Maybe he was finally getting the point. Maybe he would finally stop wasting his time and keep his projective, sentimental thoughts to himself instead of dragging them both down with it.

“Not in that way, Bruce.”

Sometimes Bruce wished Alfred could read his mind, hear all the things he wanted to say but kept hidden. Right now it was a lot of grumbles, some pointed accusations, but nothing unfurled on his tongue. Instead, his body reacted, quickening his heartbeat and narrowing his eyes.

“I think it goes both ways.” Alfred set his glasses on the table. “I believe you’re afraid if you let someone close, you’ll put them in the same position you once were.”

Heat bloomed in Bruce’s throat, and he tried to storm out of the room and escape the clouds weighing down the ceiling, but Alfred tossed another hook into his arm near the doorframe.

“And if you were honest with yourself, truly faced what you endure each and every night, it would feel like looking down the barrel all over again.”

Bruce could’ve screamed. He wanted to. He could’ve done a lot of things, but his mind was fuzzy. All his tired body did was tremble. All his mouth did was bite his cheek. Say the most benign version of the dialogue swarming inside. “You don’t know what I think.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a bluff. He felt the tips of his fingers go cold.

“It’s far easier to disregard your life when you have no one to answer to.”

“I’m answering to you, aren’t I?”

Alfred paused, his voice lowering and slowing. “I often think you wish you didn’t have to.”

He locked eyes with him in an instant, Bruce having a visceral reaction to what he was insinuating. Did Alfred really think he didn’t care about him? Was his behavior being represented that poorly? His body filled with blue and purple emotions, his stomach tightening, face heating. The bruise fronted as defiance. “I’m doing what I need to. I—”

Alfred’s voice was bored, frayed. “‘Have a duty’. Yes, boy.”

Bruce bristled, hard, and visibly so. Alfred caught it, and felt a desire to rescue him, looking decidedly dejected. After the last week, however, he knew he couldn’t let things slide as he used to. The path he was on was destructive, and walking away wasn’t going to change anything. “You also have a duty to yourself.”

Bruce shook his head, his vision blurring slightly. “I don’t care about that.”

Alfred hesitated to go this route usually, and reserved it only for occasions supremely deserving—this was one of those times, though he was concerned how it would go over. Bruce was standing a few feet from him, between the fridge and the kitchen’s entry, his eyes darting across the ground like his head was swarming with thoughts. “Your parents would want you to be happy. Are you happy?”

As expected, Bruce responded with silence. Silence that cut Alfred’s heart in two. He knew he wasn’t. He hadn’t seen a genuine smile from him, or a full-bellied laugh for that matter, in decades. It might have even been since that night. The boy held so much pain, and kept so isolated. He gulped back tears.

“What I’m doing is more important than that.”

Against his better judgment, he folded. Bruce never liked to see him cry, going stiff and static. He didn’t do it often, but worried about burdening the boy so soon. So he sighed, shifting the subject. “If you don’t check on Y/N tonight, I will.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it near his glasses, moving his hand up to massage his temple.

“She doesn’t want pity.”

He held back another sigh, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Care and pity are not the same, Bruce.”

Alfred left first, not wanting to chance the boy’s tender conscience with any more guilt at having left preemptively. It wasn’t unusual for these conversations to end with Bruce coming into his room later that night with a thinly veiled olive branch.

Once in the confines of his room, Bruce nearly missed the edge of the bed, fighting off disorienting swells of emotion that left no energy for proprioception. Possibly more than he ever had, he wanted to curse Alfred out. Run into his study and tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. But his body was telling him otherwise. Telling him he was right. He was isolating. It was obscenely dangerous. He didn’t want to look at it.

Care versus pity. Every face from his childhood stuck to the back of his retinas. The pouting, downturned faces at the funeral. The ‘gentle’, rather condescending tone that echoed off the tower walls for years, until people stopped caring. Until he stopped trying. Until he stopped visiting his parent’s room and bolted the lock.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and clenched his core, subtly rocking back and forth, juxtaposing the two scenes, a task which felt like drowning—whatever happened last night and this morning, and absolutely everything he’d ever experienced from everyone else.

One felt warm. Uncomfortably so, but nevertheless comforting. The other was distant, and cold.

He tried to avoid it again, unclenching his stomach and stripping as he walked toward his bathroom. He turned the shower to scalding, and stepped in, hoping it would soothe his aching muscles to sleep, maybe beam Alfred’s confrontation out of his brain.

One felt like a balm, or a salve. The other felt like it carved him out deeper, eviscerating his insides. One told him it would be okay, and the other said he’d never be the same again. Their eyes gutted him. Told him his parents were gone, slaughtered, murdered. He ran some shampoo through his hair.

He lathered his body while it sat, feeling every pass over scar and scab. He loathed being in his body. Being aware of the injuries painting his skin. The drain in his bones. He was usually adept at avoiding it. Grinding until he passed out the instant his head hit the pillow. Sleeping in until it was time to suit up. Time to plan. To think about anyone else’s problems besides his own.

A bubble of soap slipped in his eye, and he flinched.

He suddenly felt like crying.

Pulling on your own sweatpants and a baggy hoodie was a luxury as you prepped to visit Rai’s. Frustrated at your screaming stomach that wouldn’t let you simply sleep the rest of your life away, you popped a small-dose edible so it would kick in after you’d come back and finished eating, letting you have a semblance of peace the rest of the evening. At the very least it would lower the risk of you screaming into your pillow all night.

Same walk, same street, same people, same sky. The constant ebbs of injury had colored you blue. A leaf startled you on its crunch, the sudden movement and barely-tempered shout causing the parents and children to slink away from you on the sidewalk. You kept your head down the rest of the route.

Rai was helping another customer when you arrived, but he gave you a small wave. You never liked to crowd people, especially the older customers that came in who lived in the historic buildings nearby. They treated Rai’s like a full-on grocery, sometimes bringing their own cart to fill. This lady, with her wispy gray hair and thick red sweater was one of those patrons.

You pulled a sweet tea from the drinks, and an orange soda. Rai was chattering away with the lady, who had ostensibly selected one of everything in the store. You reveled in having less time to spend in your apartment, and wandered to the chip aisle while you waited for your turn at the counter. Your fingers traipsed through rows of Ruffles and Lays, when you felt a buzz in your pocket.

Alfred.

Jesus, fuck. You raced to set the drinks down, your heart pounding. You’d left him in another state again. Too harsh, too unforgiving, fuck! “Hello? Alfred?”

“Hey.”

Bruce answered, and a concoction of relief and bitterness settled on you like a blanket of snow. “Hey…?” Your fingers tightened around the phone.

“I was wondering,” he drew a sharp intake of breath. “If you wanted to watch a movie or something.”

Shit, how out of sorts was he? “Like tonight?”

“Like tonight. I could go to your place, or,”

“Mine’s fine. I’ll bring the TV by the couch.” You were buzzing. You couldn’t very well decline, or what might he get up to? Was this his way of asking for help? You also couldn’t very well ignore the twinge of relief that having company would bring, even if it was his. Or the single atom in your body that preferred it to be him.

“Want me to bring anything?”

Your eyes flickered to the deli. “I’m good.”

“Half an hour work?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Bruce hung up, heaving a deep breath. He flopped onto his back on his bed, Alfred’s phone falling out of his hand near his pillow. He felt better now. And worse. A little bit of everything.

What does someone wear to watch a movie?

After a few minutes he strolled to his closet, and thumbed a hole in his only clean pair of jeans. Hmm.

Dior. Prada. The sound of metal hangers sliding on a metal rod. Gucci. Dolce & Gabbana. He eyed the black jeans again, and the matching pair of trodden Converse in the corner. He pulled them on and grabbed the least distressed tee from his dresser… they were all worn thin.

It didn’t matter. Did it? No.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the basement. He’d have to leave through Wayne Terminal, take the beater car, drift. He passed Alfred on the stairs, noting the fresh outfit and shoes. “Going out?”

Bruce nodded, not saying anything until he turned into the kitchen and was fully out of view. “Checking on her.”

Alfred grinned with the sound of the elevator’s descent.

73 notes · View notes

delusionsofgrandeur13 · 3 months ago

Text

hi lovelies there's this bruce wayne fic i read on here ages. ago that i still think about..

y/n was a reporter, i think? and was childhood friends with bruce wayne but didn't know he was also batman and was falling in love with both bw and batman? and she like spent the night at wayne manor with bw and they fucked but she also like. cockwarmed with batman in the house library? it was a really long one too.. it was based on more so robert pattinson batman.... please someone tell me they know what i'm talking about i feel crazy i can't find it anymore

71 notes · View notes

anitalenia · 1 year ago

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ₊˚⊹♡

⋆˙⟡♡ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦. ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛… 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹ the beginning of how it started. a part detailing how Batman initially treated you and handled the relationship.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹ how Batman fell in love with you and all the things that happened leading up to it. all the signs and actions that made him love you.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹ how Batman handled the reality of being in love with you and all the things he did to try and hide from it. better yet, his confession.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹ yours and Bruce’s relationship and how he was with you. some relationship headcanons for fun.

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ battinson x fem!reader

⋆˙⟡♡ CONTENT INCLUDES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mentions of sex, mentions of fighting and threatening, rough kissing, mentions of sad!Bruce / undertones of depression, mentions of alcohol & insomnia, bad words, sweet kisses, tears, hair pulling, love confessions, not really a whole lot of sexiness just headcanons mostly

⋆˙⟡♡ WARNINGS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mature content, emotionally tortured Bruce Wayne, maybe not my best story telling :(, mentions of blood and fighting cuz this is Batman, alcoholism

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ thanks to @diavolosbaby for requesting this!! Hope you enjoy and it lives up to your standards 🩷

OTHER LINKS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ He told you what this was before he even started it. Told you this was strictly business, no feelings involved; you knew who he was during a chance encounter and you were the only one he could really come to after that. It was simple, straight forward; you needed his dick and he needed your pussy.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce came to you a lot, which was a little odd compared to how you perceived him to be. You thought he was a very busy man, always fighting crime or hiding away in his mansion, always too busy to bother with someone as unimportant as you. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was there at least three times a week, standing by your window in that black suit of his with his cape blowing with the wind, waiting for you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always quiet, head filled with whatever torturous pain lingered in the shadows of his mind, brimming with the secrets he never told you and you never asked for. He never spoke, unless it was a command spoken in a gentle gruffness. He never smiled, tried not to grunt or make too much noise, but some nights he couldn’t contain himself and the sounds just escaped him. Those were the nights he was particularly frustrated.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never let you take off his mask at first, he’d leave it on and you were left grasping at leather and air. He didn’t like affection, having you touch his scars and his body, it was too vulnerable, too intimate, for his liking. So, naturally, he didn’t stay to cuddle afterwards. The business was over, your job was done, he’d slip out the window as you’d bask in the aftershocks.

⋆˙⟡♡ His heart was cold but his body was warm, always warm. He was like a furnace when he’d be flat against you, fucking into you with his head in your neck and his hands gripping your jaw, your waist, your thighs. You’d always get so hot, craving his warmth like a bug to a bonfire.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never bothered to ask you anything about yourself, but you had a suspicion he had to have done some research on you during those long lonely days in the darkness of his home. He was too cautious not to, too curious. And he did. He found out everything about you but didn’t share a single detail about himself. He was Bruce Wayne, rich son whose parents died by day, and then Batman, vengeance personified by night. That’s all you needed to know.

⋆˙⟡♡ Batman only came to you in the middle of the night, sometimes bloody and beaten, your fingers running over tender bruises that would make him grimace. A part of him liked the pain, figured he deserved it. Sometimes you worried for him on the nights he was particularly beaten up, but he didn’t give you time to ask questions before he was shoving you against your dresser and pressing himself against you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t like being in the light, being too seen. He liked it with all the lights off, your room glowing with the dim light of the moon and the streetlights, your face pressed into his neck or shoved into a pillow so you couldn’t look at him.

⋆˙⟡♡ In the beginning, he liked it when you just submitted to him; he mostly cared about his own pleasure at first as he told you what this was, why he was doing this. That didn’t stop him from making sure you came at least once though. He couldn’t help it, didn’t want you to feel completely used.

⋆˙⟡♡ You noticed he always had this way about him when he touched you, almost like he yearned to hold you closer but knew he shouldn’t. His hands were rough, long fingers and hot palms, lingering on your skin before he’d move them away, never touching one place too long before he’d move on. It was almost a tease.

⋆˙⟡♡ He spied on you, a lot actually, would watch you from his spot on a roof top, stare at you through your big office window. He didn’t know why, just bored and curious, he always told himself. He’d see you stress yourself out, fill out paper after paper while your boss did nothing but throw more at you. You took it anyway and Bruce was confused by why. But he never asked, didn’t want to make a connection with you and risk losing you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He remembered sneaking into your house, waiting for you, but you were late coming home from work and he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. He felt wrong about it, but he looked through your photos and your notebooks, saw a glimpse into your real life outside of him and work and he quickly put everything back the way it was and left. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to see you as anything different than what he already did.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would lie to Alfred about where he was going at night, why he would be so late coming home. But Alfred knew he was lying, he wasn’t sure about what exactly, but Alfred knew Bruce would come to him in time.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce tried hard to keep his and yours personal lives outside of your mutual situation, he really did. He didn’t want to know you, hear you talk about your problems and your dreams and fears and learn what made you you, from your own words. He was alone and knew he was meant to be alone, planned on being alone forever. Being with him would only put you in danger, a bigger target on his back he didn’t need. It was for your own protection, for the sake of both your lives and both your hearts.

⋆˙⟡♡ He vowed to himself to keep it that way, strictly professional, a hobby almost. He really didn’t plan to fall in love, he really really didn’t…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Your living room was dark when you came home from work, later than usual because of your infuriating boss; he was lazy, relied on his employees to do his work while he sat in his office and ate his donuts. You hated him, loathed him, absolutely couldn’t stand him, but you understood he was just another obstacle, a milestone you needed to get through before you reached where you needed to be. So, you didn’t make a fuss, you didn’t complain, didn’t speak up. You did what you were supposed to as you were supposed to do it, just another hamster circling the wheel of business over and over until you finally got the balls to break the cycle.

Unfortunately, your ambition was almost too much for you sometimes, tonight was evidence enough.

You set your keys in the ceramic bowl by the door with a tired sigh, soft rain pattering on your windows, furniture lit up with a dim orange glow from the street lamps outside. All twisting shadows and rain drops. Your nose tickled with the scent of vanilla bean and raspberry, remembering the candle you had forgotten to blow out before you left. Oops.

Your hair was damp, gray suit littered in dark spots from the rain outside. Your limbs were sore and heavy, eyes burning and fluttering for a semblance of rest. Your heels were sore from the heels you’ve been prancing around in all day, your whole body exhausted in general. This was normal for you though, you always came home lagged and tired. You regretted being such a hard worker, but knew it would ultimately pay off in the future.

You walked to your bedroom, your heels clacking on the floor unevenly, dragging on the wooden boards as you navigated your way through the darkness. You held your purse loosely in your left hand, a shiver crawling up your spine as an unexpected gust of coolness swept up your legs and down your neck.

Your foot stuttered, lingering by the doorway in your bedroom as the rain seemed louder, less dull, wind whistling your black bed sheets. You furrowed your eyebrows at that, knowing you left your window closed before you left. Your eyes strained to see anything in the darkness as panic blared in your chest like a fire alarm, trying to make out any figure in the shadows of your room. You slowly crept forward, preparing for the worst, your exhaustion melting into hot fear that made your bones go stiff.

You swallowed, eyes immediately going to the open window to see the empty street below, the sound of a car alarm in the distance overpowering the rain that seemed to just pound harder. Your window was wide open, sheer purple curtains flapping from the breeze like a set of violet wings. Your eyes narrowed at that, hearing nothing but buzzing silence ringing in your ears. Then, it just hit you.

You couldn’t describe it exactly, but you felt a sensation of calmness wash over you as you let out a hefty breath, fear gradually melting away as your body relaxed and hands unclenched. It was like your body knew it wasn’t in any real danger, that there was nothing lurking in the shadows besides what was supposed to be. This was all too familiar to you; a setting you’ve come home to many times before. The open window, the darkness, the buzzing calm.

You felt excitement spark through you in recognition as you felt your neck tingle, a barely there whisper of a breath wash over your neck and tickle your hair.

You felt a smile quirk on your lips, turning around slowly, sucking in a sharp breath when you were met with the large bulking figure of the man in black standing just an inch away from you, a shadow hiding in shadow as he stared down at you with those black soulless eyes. He was big, a thing you liked about him, dirt encrusted on his suit and so out of place in the cozy warmth of your home. He was big and bulky, comically large for your small bedroom.

You looked back up at him, your purse dropping to the floor as instinctual arousal flooded your belly at just the mere sight of him. You couldn’t help it, your body knew what he was capable of and yearned for it. Your throat became dry, you swallowed once more as his eyes, those dark blue gems of his, looked over your face with a certain pained look in them, calculating and tortured, covered in black face paint that hid the beauty of his raw skin.

His pink lips were set in a firm frown, a faint scratch on his chin, breaths slow and even, calm. That damned mask of his covered his face, the fluffiness of his brown hair you seldom ever felt run through your finger tips. He always wore this expression, always so serious and somber like he was going through a dreadful ordeal every second he continued to live. You were always curious as to why, but knew he’d never answer, nor appreciate your nosiness.

You let your thoughts drift off, looking back up at him with a false confidence.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight…” You mumbled quietly, losing any conviction in your voice as he took a small step forward, closer to you, his heavy boot thudding on your floor. You took a small step back, crumbling under him way too easily, as always. He always loved to completely invade your space, but never let you do the same to him.

You looked up at him, he looked down at you, breaths mingling together as a dark look washed over his oceanic eyes, his strong jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over your face like this was the first time he’d ever seen you. You felt your thighs tighten at the look in them, at the way he looked at you.

You were being honest though, you didn’t expect him tonight. You had seen him two nights ago, expecting not to see him for another few weeks at least.

“Shhh…” He shushed you gently, voice gravelly but gentle, tired but awake, undertones of desire.

He leaned down towards you and you found yourself holding your own arms back from wrapping around him and taking him already, just as he always took you. His gloved hands reached for the edge of the dresser behind you, trapping you between his strong arms and chest, completely invading your senses as your eyes looked into his, almost begging. His cape flowed down his shoulders and shrouded around you both until all you could see was black, the heady smell of smoke and rain tickling your nose, captivating.

He pressed himself against you, a brick wall, the mahogany’s edge digging into your lower back as your breath stuttered. You found yourself looking at his lips, his nose, his eyes, his closeness overwhelming you as you couldn’t figure out where to look, your skin feeling hot and stuffy, the confidence you had previously now a pile on the floor as your stomach twisted.

You could see the rain on his black suit, dripping down all his gear and heavy armor he wore and down to his waist, some falling to the floor in soft drips. You licked your lips, minding the mess, feeling lightheaded and fluttery as you looked back up at him with sparkling eyes.

He cocked his head at you, dark eyes running over your lips before looking back into your own, “Take your hair down.”

He always used such a gentle, tired voice, like he didn’t want to scare you and he could never find enough sleep, but the demand was obvious in his tone, eyes dark and predatory as they stared down at you intently. He didn’t need anymore command, knowing you’d do as he said just like you always did.

You didn’t dare disobey, sensing his need sizzling in the air just as strong as your shared want. You managed eye contact as you brought a hand up to the back of your head, taking out the black hair clip holding your hair together, the rain pattering on your roof almost too loud in your ears. He stared as your hair fell down your shoulders, cascading down your back in silky waves and framing your face. You swallowed, feeling the need to clear your throat as you put a hand through your hair and brushed it over your shoulder.

You saw his eyes run over your hair, the way it fell around your cheeks, his jaw clenching once more. He brought a hand up, big and heavy, running your locks through his fingers, imagining the softness of it as the sweet smell of apricot and citrus filled his nose, the signature flavor of your favorite shampoo.

You sighed at the pleasurable sensation on your scalp, head titling back as your eyes drooped, your hair clip falling to the ground noisily as you brought your hands up and grabbed his forearms. You might’ve been a little dramatic at just a few touches, but you were so needy, needy for this dangerous man you knew absolutely nothing about besides the obvious. He was a stranger in a suit, a stranger to you, but he somehow knew how to touch you better than any man you’ve ever been with.

He took note of your reaction, his own body twitching to touch you as he noticed the look in your eyes. He felt an intense need spark through him, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. He remained calm looking, but his eyes gave it all away.

Your head was yanked back, a pleasurable gasp leaving your lips as you squeezed his arms, looking up at him with your lips parted and breaths heavy. Your head stung, hair being pulled on in just the right way that had a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs, your body buzzing alive with feeling.

Bruce looked down at you, pressing the broadness of himself against you even harder, your breasts smushed against his suit, completely at his mercy. He looked down at you with an unraveled look in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards him.

He kissed you then, rough and hot, groaning into your mouth as his tongue played with yours, teeth clashing and breaths hot against each other. You couldn’t help but moan against him as he finally granted you what you’ve been wanting for so long now, scalp burning from his hold on your hair as your hands flew up and gripped at the leather of his mask, arms wrapped around his neck.

He was forceful and rough, his other hand crawling around your waist and lifting you off the ground with such ease it almost caught you off guard. You gasped into his mouth, his hand tightening on the hold in your hair as you grimaced at the pain.

You didn’t break the kiss, stuck on him as your heels fell off your feet and hit the floor. In two big strides you were suddenly lied flat on your bouncy mattress with Batman himself between your thighs, still holding your waist and head against him as he kissed you fervently.

Your skirt slid down around your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him harder into you as all you wanted was him, him everywhere and him all over you. You moaned against him, helpless and desperate, as the ridges in his suit dug into your stomach, his lips movingly hotly against yours as he grunted against you. His cape flowed around you, thick and smooth, trapping you underneath until all you could see was blackness, unable to discern the space between his body and yours.

You knew this was going to be quick; he was too rough, too impatient and needy. It must’ve been a bad night for him, but you didn’t pry no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much the questions bubbled in your throat and ached in your chest you knew you were in no place to ask. A part of you liked it that way, liked that this was strictly this. You liked that you didn’t have to answer to him, that you weren’t bound to him and he wasn’t to you. It was just simple, secrecy for a night of shameless lust-filled sex in return.

You both got what you wanted and that was enough. You appreciated that he didn’t go beyond that just as you didn’t. Outside of this room he was Batman, a dangerous vigilante some trusted and some hated, he was Bruce Wayne, an orphan child with more money and pain than he needed. But in the shadow of your bedroom, under the covers with you, there was no identity, no obligation, just two strangers seeking each other out in search of the one thing they both wanted, blessed with none of the other drama that followed a relationship.

With Bruce on top of you in this very moment, his hands gripping your body for no reason other than pleasure, you knew he would be gone before the night was over, and you’d be alone in your bed with bite marks and handprints on your skin to serve as a reminder of the man who gave them to you. You knew he would silently leave, slip away when he thought you were sleeping, you knew he wouldn’t talk or tell you any of his problems. He’d give you what you wanted and then slip into the shadows… you had to admit, It was the most perfect arrangement.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Batman didn’t plan on ever falling in love with you, but when he did, it had happened after a couple of months of doing what he did with you. But before he did, things had been going so well. You never intervened in his life and he never intervened in yours. Just as he expected, just as he preferred. It had been perfect, but somewhere along the way he had gotten too involved, started to trust you without even realizing it.

⋆˙⟡♡ At first, it started with him staying in your bed longer than he used to. You didn’t argue, comfortable with the heat his body gave you in the coldness of the night. He found himself dozing off after you would, your fluffy blanket soft on his skin and the mattress like a cloud for his broken body. He’d always be gone before you woke up though. You didn’t want to say anything about his little sleepovers, scared you’ll frighten him and he’ll stop. So you let him do as he pleased, enjoying his company albeit his silence.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never cuddled with you though, ever (don’t worry, he lets that slip too). Always stiff like a board on his side of the bed, expression crumbled with pain and peace. Sometimes he’d flinch, nightmares you never questioned him about but always noticed. Still, he’d wake up after about an hour, slip out your window, but not before giving you one last look, seeing how the moon shined down on your soft skin…

⋆˙⟡♡ Then, it was following you home after work, making sure you got home safe on those dark nights where it seemed like every shadow was following you. He’d be on the rooftops, claiming he was just curious and bored, cape flapping in the wind, when in reality he just needed to make sure you got home safely.

⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t know, but he was watching you much more than you’d ever suspect. He watched your home on the nights Gotham was quiet, his body knowing you were so close but oh so far. He thought about you when he wasn’t thinking about you, thought about the routine he had found in you, the unfamiliar closeness, the comfort he had found between your body and your bed sheets.

⋆˙⟡♡ He started kissing you more, flinching less when your fingers would graze his back. He let you look at him, look deep into his eyes when he was inside you, have your hands touching his face and his back without the security of his suit to hide him. You loved when he did that, feeling him under your hands, skin to skin as it should be.

⋆˙⟡♡ He let you see his scars in the light, didn’t care when he took off his suit and your bathroom light was on, shining down on his body and the sculpted muscle of it. He had learned you wouldn’t judge him, but he was still hesitant, suffering inside when he looked down at the floor as you gazed at him in awe… you thought he was so beautiful.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would watch you when you worked, watch as your boss would storm in and demand more from you. Bruce didn’t like that, would clench his fist and grind his teeth when you’d get scolded like a child, told to work harder when all you did was work. He’d have to control himself when your boss would walk past him on his way home every night.

⋆˙⟡♡ He started conversing with you more, holding you against his chest when you two were done. He’d ask you profound questions as you two stared up at the ceiling, you’d tell him your answer. He didn’t talk a lot, just liked to listen. It would be intimate, almost romantic. He’d listen to what you’d have to say and he’d learn, learn more about who you were, where you came from, and he’d find himself not wanting to leave, a dull ache in his chest every time you’d fall asleep and he’d have to slip out your fire escape.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never admitted it to himself, but he started to look forward to seeing you, found comfort in your small bedroom and the absence of life’s problems that came with it. He started to enjoy the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry from those candles you always forgot to blow out before work. He started to pick up on your little quirks.

⋆˙⟡♡ While gradually falling in love with you, Bruce would deny, deny, deny. He acknowledged that he was starting to feel things he didn’t want to, and he’d be incredibly disturbed and moody, more than usual. Alfred would even be a little peeved with him.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would find himself asking you how work was. He would be concerned about the bags under your eyes and the wrinkles in your clothes, not outright concerned but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to hear your voice.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would be very hesitant around you, scared he was doing too much when he’d touch you now. It wasn’t like before, when he would just grab and control. Now he was really touching you, trying to feel you, every dip and curve of your skin under his fingertips.

⋆˙⟡♡ He had gotten way too comfortable with you now, even he knew that. He relied on you and the comfort you gave, a feeling he’d been without for so long. He was like a cold soul lost in the woods, searching for something, anything, hollow, a warm body to bring him back. He found that with you, and he didn’t even realize it until he started to feel pain when he wasn’t around you, a pain in his chest like a knife was stabbing into his heart. He missed you but he didn’t want to…

⋆˙⟡♡ He stared at your face a lot, too intensely for your liking, thoughts behind those dark eyes of his he’d never tell you about if you confronted him about it. He just liked to look at you, watch you giggle and smile. He’d do it without realizing how intimidated it made you feel, how you’d have to blush and look away, pretend you didn’t notice. He just liked to look at you, soak in your expressions before he’d leave again.

⋆˙⟡♡ The signs were all there when you thought about it. The lingering touches, the admiring stares, the countless nights he’d watch over you. He felt like a creep, following you around so much, but he couldn’t help it. You were a pleasant distraction and he was a fool, easily succumbing to those feelings he had for you without even knowing it. They had been growing inside of him like a blooming vine… they started out small but grew into so much more, and he ignored it, until he just couldn’t take it anymore…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a quiet night in September, it had been raining for days and the coolness of autumn had just started to blow into the city. The trees danced with orange and red leaves, strewn all over the road and sidewalks, getting stuck under peoples rain boots and car tires. Your window was cracked, letting a cool breeze into your room that made you shiver, the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafting into your noses from the apartments across the way. You looked at your tv, black screen shut off but reflecting the blurred forms of your mingled bodies on your bed, arm outstretched on Bruce’s stomach, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart, slow and calm just as he always was, pumping in your ear and lulling you to sleep.

You wanted to stay awake though, listening to the sounds of cars driving in rain puddles and horns honking, the occasional laughter of a passerby. A candle was lit on your dresser across the room, with the faint scent of vanilla bean and raspberry in the air just as Bruce liked. Your legs were a little sore, thighs tender from where Bruce had gripped them so hard, lips puffy from where Bruce had kissed them so much. You felt satisfied, pleasant even, comforted by his presence, the knowledge of his identity absent in your mind as you didn’t register him as a millionaire, or as a crime fighting vigilante, you never really did.

He was neither of those things to you. He was… he was Bruce, just Bruce, your Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne or Batman, and that was enough for you. You took him as he is not as he was, never questioned him about his parents or how Batman was even created. He appreciated that, didn’t like answering questions about himself he wasn’t comfortable with. He was comfortable with silence, but he didn’t mind hearing you.

He was awake too, didn’t want to fall asleep before you, something in his mind telling him he should leave already, not sink into the mattress any further and let himself relish in your warmth. He had responsibilities, duties, people he needed to save and crime he needed to stop. It was Gotham, something was always wrong and someone always needed help. But he couldn’t think about any of that stuff around you, his thoughts always either empty or crowded with your smile.

His suit was a mess on the floor, scrambled just like his mind, bat mask clear as day in his vision, lit up in a red glimmer from the light outside. It stared at him with its blank eyes, watching, the buzzing of a neon light loud in his ears. It’s like it was mocking him, patronizing him. He frowned at it, turning his head slightly away from it, like it was a reminder of what his true purpose was, where he should really be this late other than here in your arms. He knew he should go, felt his arm twitch like he was about to get up and unwind from you.

“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? Or are you gonna stay?” You mumbled sleepily, voice so quiet and sweet he almost didn’t hear it.

His eyes drifted to you, rubbing his fingertips on your rib cage and savoring the feeling of your smooth skin underneath him, against him. You were so unblemished, unlike him. A few scratches and scars here and there that held stories and memories, none like his. His were ridged and pale, covered his skin, they held memories but none of them good. Memories that served as reminders of why this was so wrong, of who he really was and who he needed to get back to once he left these four walls.

He thought about it for a minute, frowning at the ceiling fan.

Did he have somewhere to be? Yes, yes he did. He always had somewhere to be, that was the problem. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he could be somewhere else, but he was here instead. He was here with you, here with you. He had somewhere to be, could be anywhere else, but he was here. Everyone always expected him to be where they were, expected him to save everyone. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t save everyone and he couldn’t be everywhere they wanted him to be. He was with you but he shouldn’t be. Guilt settled in his gut as he swallowed, hands itching like it was wrong to touch you.

His eyes, dark and somber like storm clouds, especially just as captivating, looked over your frazzled hair like he could see your face, knowing how exhausted you must’ve been from work and sex, how it was so late already and how you’d have to leave so early. Your breathing was slow and even, warm breath brushing over his chest from your parted pink lips, all cues of how you’ve already fallen asleep. He thought about your question, yes, yes he had somewhere he needed to be, he always did.

He didn’t bother speaking, just turned his head back and looked at the ceiling as his arm held you just a little tighter against him, hearing the splash of a car racing through water from somewhere outside.

He’ll stay for a little while.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ When he realized he was in love with you he left, he left for a long time. He refused to let those feelings blossom into anything more, grow into something more… dangerous. Love was dangerous, he was dangerous. He isolated himself from you, in a worse mood than usual. Alfred had picked up on it, knowing there was more going on than Bruce wanted to say. You couldn’t help the disappointment as the days turned into weeks, weeks of hope being crushed on with every night he wasn’t there.

⋆˙⟡♡ He told himself it was for the best, heartbreak was something you could heal from, death was something you’d never come back from. With his life, you would die. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t. He couldn’t subject you to that same fate his parents had.

⋆˙⟡♡ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching you when you’d walk home, still sitting outside your job, your home, watching you from a distance to make sure you’d be alright. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t.

⋆˙⟡♡ He couldn’t sleep anyway. Eyes a dark purple and the ache in his chest getting so much worse. It was because of you he couldn’t sleep, bed empty and cold without you, mattress hard and firm unlike yours. His nightmares consisted of your death and his inability to save you. He was better off seeing nothing with his eyes open than your blood with his eyes closed.

⋆˙⟡♡ Alfred was concerned. Confronted his Master Bruce during breakfast when Bruce was silent and gloomy. Yes, Alfred knew he would confess eventually, just needed a little shove. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Alfred.”

⋆˙⟡♡ You couldn’t stop thinking about him either… work was slow and long, your thoughts muddled together as you couldn’t stop racking your brain for a reason, any reason, as to why, why he left. Did you do something wrong?

⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t want to say you missed him, you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. You felt almost stupid, like he had used you and discarded you, but wasn’t that the whole point? You were a mess, confused and feeling a different kind of lonely only a sad heart could bring you. You felt abandoned.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would hide up in his room and think, read books but not pay attention to the words. Alfred would bring him his tea and advice whenever he could, but it seemed nothing could cheer him up. Bruce felt a different kind of loneliness now than he had his whole life. When his parents died they were taken away from him, he didn’t choose to give them up like he did you. He felt like he had lost yet another person.

⋆˙⟡♡ He really thought about moving on from you, a part of him arguing thats what was best for you. But the thought of fully giving you up to anybody else angered him. You weren’t his but you’d always been in some way, his. He yearned to be near you again, an itch in the back of his mind only you could scratch.

⋆˙⟡♡ He drunk, a lot. Spent his free time as Bruce Wayne drowning in whiskey and scotch, heavy liquor bottles empty and discarded on the floor. He almost felt like crying, but he’d just pass out on his bed, too drunk to crawl under the covers. Sometimes he’d pass out in the common room, leg hanging off the couch and hair unraveled, Alfred cleaning up the mess and putting a blanket over him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He drowned himself in his work to distract from you. He was frustrated, angry, weeks having gone by without you having set him on edge. He was beating petty criminals to a bloody pulp, sending them to Gordon barely conscious. He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. Alfred would just sigh when a bloody Bruce would storm past him, ensuring his suit was cleaned before the next day.

⋆˙⟡♡ It was a late Friday night when Bruce let his anger take control of him. It was some petty thief thinking he’d run off with the bags of cash he’d stolen. Bruce didn’t let him speak, anger taking over him like thick ropes of lava in his blood, anger that had festered in his black heart for weeks, simmering under his skin waiting for the moment it could boil over.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was bloody and dirty when he came to you in a blur of anger and love, adrenaline running through him with a determination boiling in his bones.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a dark cloudy night when you saw Bruce standing outside your window; you lay in bed, cozy and under the covers, bathed in the dim golden light of your lamp. You were pretending to read a book you’ve meant to finish with a frown on your face, mind full of memories and the fruitless desire to have it all back. It was a melancholic pain that throbbed under your skin, sharp and persistent like a plant rash, the memory of forgotten things plaguing your mind and wishing it could just all go back to the way it was.

You almost didn’t see him if it wasn’t for the thud on your fire escape; you jumped and the book flew to the floor with a thud. Your eyes widened and you felt a wave of excitement and relief flourish through your veins as you scrambled off your bed. You couldn’t believe it, heart pounding as you rushed over to your window and swung it open like an eager baker opening an oven door. It was a big window, one with a giant view of the street below and the park across the ways, big enough to fit a grown man in a heavy suit.

Your hands were almost frantic, eyes wide in disbelief to just see him standing there in all his glory, back to you like he used to be all those weeks ago before he left, left you, left you behind. The memory of his loss and betrayal flashed back like a pull to reality, all those sad feelings you pushed away coming full frontal in your head like a tidal wave in your fragile brain.

Bruce’s heavy stare burned through you and it was like you could feel it on your skin, like a million microscopic bugs crawling all over you, your body buzzing with electricity and your hands almost shaking. You felt a flurry of difficult emotions coursing through you that all muddled together in one big mess in your head; anger and happiness, relief and irritation. You couldn’t pinpoint on one, feeling everything all at once when you opened your window and Batman was stood on the other side of you in all his threatening grandness.

You hated that he looked so good despite the grime.

You were left stunned as all you could do was stare at him. This was a moment you’ve only dreamt about, wished for for days and countless weeks, fantasized about for hours on end. How you would react, what you would say, how it would all go… and especially how he’d apologize on hand and knee for you, atone for his sins and plead for your pardon. It was all meticulously planned and carefully thought out, and now here it was, the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long; it was finally here, staring at you in the face. And it was so funny how all those ideas and all that confidence you had just seemed to vanish now that it was time to confront them; you were frozen as you stared back at him, unsure of what to do next and too tongue tied to formulate a thought. All that planning, pointless in the face of its precipitant.

Bruce stared back at you longingly and painfully, breaths hard and heavy and knuckles bruised and sore. His eyes were smeared in that black paint he always used, thick with an unspoken emotional torture, like he was being tormented in his own mind at the mere sight of you. He was in a way; you were his reminder of why he left, the catalyst of his destruction but at the same time his anecdote. It was all very confusing and contradictory; all he could understand was that it pained him to look at you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.

Blood was splattered over his cheeks and suit, his heart pumping in his ears as he looked you over, putting all the pieces of you back in his mind; from your face, to your pink pajamas, to the black socks on your feet, then back to your cautious eyes. You were all right, you were okay and he was so relieved. He felt a weight drop from his chest, knowing you were in no certain danger but he always worried for you if he couldn’t see you, a consequence of everyone he cared for always getting hurt some way or another. Bruce felt what he could only describe as happiness, a feeling he only got with you, hit him full on like a train, smacking into his heart as his throat closed up.

He had missed you.

He had missed you a lot, more than he ever wanted to admit, but he would gladly do so for you. He had missed your pretty eyes and sweet voice, soft hands and smooth skin, and your voice, calming and rich like honeyed pastries. You were beautiful to him, so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had shown up here once more, that he would risk ever putting it in danger. But he had to come, he couldn’t take it anymore… and if his love for you was that perilous then his soul be damned.

He noticed the subtle way your face crumbled as your initial excitement died down, settled into pain and sadness and concern; your eyes running over the blood on him, wondering if it was his, really looking at him and realizing that he was really here, back on your fire escape. He couldn’t believe it himself, but here he was and he didn’t plan on leaving, not unless you ordered him to. You were nervous, eager to touch him, feel the suit under your palms like you used to, but you were also too stubborn to welcome him back into your home so easily, hurt once and not wanting to be hurt again. He understood that notion all too well.

Bruce felt an unfamiliar form of courage jolting through him, a type of courage so different from the one he used to fight criminals every night. This was a type of boldness that made him just want to grab your face and kiss you, hard, make up for all the lost time between you and spill all his confessions in the space between his lips and yours, make you taste the apology on his tongue. All he wanted was to be here again, here in your room; his nose was already filling up with the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry, his muscles relaxing instinctively at the sweet smell of it, knowing he was safe here. He wanted so badly to be here again, but now that he was he didn’t know what to do.

Bruce admitted that he was a little disappointed at your reaction to him, that you didn’t welcome him back in with open arms and gleeful smiles, kiss him and hug him and show him how much you missed him. But he knew that was too optimistic. He knew your antipathy was to be expected; he could only imagine the amount of hurt he’d put you through if it was anything compared to his own. He could only imagine how many nights you came home hoping he was there, waiting for you like he always did, how many days you kept looking at the clock, wishing it would hurry up and you could just go home already, how many days you hoped it would be different from the one before, how much hope he must’ve killed.

He felt horrible, regret and guilt spinning in his stomach as his muscles twitched, itching to touch you again; you were a drug coursing through his veins, and after two months of withdrawal he could say he was positively hooked once more. But, he knew he couldn’t just grab whatever part of you he liked like a greedy child in a toy store. He needed patience, he needed to wait for you to warm up to him on your own terms, no matter how long that took.

So, Bruce just stood on your fire escape with his hands holding the frame of the wall, blood and vanilla heavy on his nose as he stared at you, breathing hard but calm, waiting for you to make a move, any move or semblance of invitation.

Your eyes ran over the blood on him, the awkward silence deafening with all the unspoken words and yearning you both wanted so badly to address. Your eyes narrowed at the red spots and stripes on his suit and face, dripping off his gloves, worry shooting through your buzzing veins. You took a step back away from him in discontent, curious as to why he has suddenly appeared after so long away, eyes looking him over like the situation has really dawned on you. It had been weeks, two months even, since you’ve seen him, seen his black eyes and pointed ears, seen the vague Batman symbol on the chest piece of his suit.

Memories were coming back wave after wave at the sight of him, ones that wanted you to embrace him, ones that were gradually persuading you to give up this act and just be thankful he was here again, back to you. But you knew better than that, knew better than to just simply overlook a mistake as monumental as the one he made. You needed to have some damn pride.

Despite that…

Were you happy to see him? Yes, yes you really really were. You wanted him to just take off his mask and kiss you already, hell, you didn’t care if he left it on because you just wanted him to kiss you again. You wanted to feel his big arms around you once more and feel his warm palms on the dip in your back. Have him lift you up and smile into his kiss and say those magical words you yearned to hear. You could try to act tough all you wanted but at the end of the day you were still just a girl, a sad girl who wanted to be held by the man she missed so much… but your anger was still so present, lingering cold in your veins and greatly overpowering any positive emotions you had.

You wanted a damn good reason for why he did what he did.

“What are you doing here, Bruce? I thought you had moved on.” You licked your dry lips, crossing your arms and glaring at him with distaste and a false sense of confidence, a faux act of strength and apathy to cover up the real pain you felt. Your tone was anything but friendly, standoffish and disinterested, conveying the anger you felt almost perfectly; if it wasn’t for the waver in your voice and the glimmer in your eye you would even believe yourself.

You frowned at him, a cruel part of you hoping he was feeling any kind of hurt, any kind of hurt like the hurt you’ve felt. But at the same time, you just wanted so badly to hear that he came back for one reason and one reason alone. You. You wanted to hear him say that he missed you dearly, that he was so sorry for what he did and that he’d never do it again. If you heard that, then maybe, just maybe, you’d forgive him. No, you definitely would.

Bruce almost flinched at your tone, but knew it was well deserved. He looked at you with guilty eyes, like he’d committed the most heinous crime (which in his mind, he did), frown deep on his lips where a cut was on his skin, swallowing down the nerves in his throat at the look in your eyes.

A string of fear curled in his chest and made him nervous, made Batman nervous, a fear of being rejected, of him telling you how he really felt and you not reciprocating it. He couldn’t bear it, the uncertainty. But he was also afraid of hurting you any more than he already has, arguing with himself that he shouldn’t have come. But he was already here and he couldn’t leave now, couldn’t disappoint you any more than he already has. He looked up at you, his chest fluttering when he looked into your eyes.

“‘Could never move on from you…” Bruce grumbled in that deep voice of his, sounding pained and earnest and genuine, pulling at your heart like a trained harpist and making your eyes burn with brimming tears. He meant it, meant it more than you knew, staring at you with so much emotion in his eyes it almost scared you to see it; it was so unlike him to be so emotional, a part of you grateful that he trusted you enough to show it.

You felt a tingle on your skin when you looked back at him, a spark of joy peeking through the dark clouds around you. I could never move on from you…

Bruce’s dark eyes flickered between yours, gauging your reactions, intense and brooding as they always were. They bore into you like he was laying your soul bare in front of him, seeing deeper inside of you than you thought was possible. It made you feel flustered and agitated at being examined so fiercely. His voice, my god his voice, so soft but so gravelly, made you flustered, especially hearing it again after so many weeks of going without it. It washed over your skin like a warm blanket and made goosebumps pop up on your arms, a chill going through your spine that made your heart spike. You were trying so hard to fight it, fight that feeling inside of you that wanted him so badly.

You almost scoffed at his proclamation, looking at him offended, almost too theatrically, too rehearsed.

“Well it seems like you did, so.” You shrugged stubbornly, not knowing what else to say, really, not wanting to speak too much or else you’re afraid he’d hear the longing stutter in your voice. You shook your head incredulously and looked at the wall besides the window, where he stood outside in the cold air still. Secretly, you wanted to bring him inside already, bring him between your arms and hold him against your chest until he was one with you, unable to leave and bound to you forever, souls entwined and breaths shared. That may be a tad dramatic, but that’s what you felt; you knew he needed to cross that barrier on his own… you also knew that the moment he stepped back into your sacred space, the moment his heavy black boot stepped onto your wooden floor, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure anymore, and you’d collapse in his arms like a dying bride.

Obviously, that couldn’t happen. You needed resistance, strength, a reason.

You couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes and the vulnerability staining your face. It was too embarrassing and too real; you didn’t want Bruce to see how easily you got worked up because of him. You didn’t want him to see all of you just yet, wanted him to feel guilty for what he did to you. He hadn’t even said much, just a single sentence, and you were already a desperate mess hiding under a false security. It was always so easy for him to get to you and you wished you were stronger for it.

Bruce knit his eyebrows at that, subtly shaking his head with a frown as his eyes still searched for yours. He wanted you to look at him, to see the honesty in his words and the sincerity in his blue eyes. He wanted you to see that he was hurting too, just as much as you.

“I didn’t… I just needed some time away… I needed to think.” He confessed vaguely, his voice gentle like he didn’t want to spook you, quiet but just loud enough for you to hear. Bruce always treated you like you were so fragile, a slippery glass vase between his clumsy hands. He never wanted to drop you, hurt you and watch you crumble into a million pieces… but he already did, and now he was trying to glue them all back together, put you back together, but only if you’d let him.

That was something you had come to appreciate about him; his gentleness, so opposite of the image he represented, what everyone believed him to be. He wasn’t just Batman, vengeful and harsh and dangerous. He wasn’t just bloody fists and sharp edges. He was incredibly genuine and tender, complex and multilayered; he was more than the bat, the symbol, the orphan, the millionaire. He was intricately sewn together with all different threads, and over the course of the year you and Bruce shared together you’ve managed to pluck and pull them all, see the warm center inside his cold shell.

Those were sides of him only you got to see, only you got to witness, only you got the privilege to marvel at and cherish. It might have been foolish to think, and you certainly think so now, but you had thought that made you special, that you were the only one he trusted enough, cared for enough, to show that side to… that there was more affection sizzling between you than you both wanted to say… but that just made it hurt so much more when he left, it just convinced you that you were too gullible for love, too naive to tell the difference between love and infatuation. When he left, he made you feel stupid.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, your face twisting into an anger Bruce didn’t want to see. Your eyes flashed to him immediately, burning and piercing and blazing, his words bouncing around in your head like a twisted game of racquetball. To think? He left, for months, because he needed to think? It sounded so phony, a simple excuse to disguise the truth, a simple excuse that only angered your unspoken pain.

“To think? To think about what? You’ve been gone for weeks, Bruce! You just left, didn’t tell me anything, didn’t tell me why, but now you’re telling me it’s because you had to think? That sounds ridiculous. I think I deserve a better explanation than, you had to think.” You mocked him, scoffing in his face. You were frustrated and lonely, wanting, deserving, a better reason to justify the pain you went through when he left. You couldn’t believe he couldn’t at least grant you that, a credible reason why.

Bruce grimaced, eyes closing like the sting of your words had just stung him. He slouched, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get the words out that he wanted to. They were stuck in his throat, itching his tongue and wanting so badly to get out, but he was mute, could only try to explain himself. Besides, there were no words to express just how sorry he was, but he knew how right you were. You were always right. You did deserve more than that, you deserved a better explanation.

Bruce swallowed down his dry throat, clenching his jaw as he looked back up at you, aching to step through the threshold of the window and grab your face between his broken hands and kiss your tears away. He felt hot coils of guilt and regret wrap around his heart and squeeze, his chest collapsing in on itself.

“I-I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I needed to think… and to do that I had to leave. I just needed to understand why.” He spoke raspy, voice gritted with anguish and sincerity, looking at you with such desperation it made your foot itch to step towards him, made your heart yearn to comfort him. He was downright pitiful, fingers holding onto the brick so hard it could crumble under his strength. He was slouched down, looking up at you with sunken eyes, begging and pleading without an ounce of shame.

You stared back at him, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt. God, you really did just want to hold him again, kiss him again… the need was too much, burning inside you and crawling under your skin. You had your hands crossed over your chest like you were physically trying to hold yourself back, like you were trying to protect yourself against his woeful whims of persuasion.

You frowned at his statement, the rational part of your brain that was still logical and loyal to you making you want to question him more, learn more, find out more. Your shoulders slumped as you looked back at him confused, lips pulled in a frown.

“Why what? Think about what? Can you stop being so vague!” You said exasperated, wishing he would just say what he meant and stop being so damn secretive all the time. Especially now, especially here. He was the one who showed up here after all this time and now he was trying to just sneak by with it. You refused to let him, forced him to confront his own dilemma. You couldn’t see it any other way, blinded by your own rose colored rage that needed an explanation.

Bruce grit his teeth, working up the nerve to answer you as he looked down at your feet, looking physically pained. He wanted to tell you why, he wanted to tell you why so badly, but just as soon as he wanted to say it he was found at a loss for words, struck with that same fear again that made his words stutter. That same fear of being rejected, ridiculed, that fear of putting his heart on his sleeve and having you pierce it with a silver dagger. He was Batman, the shadow of shadows who dealt with worse pain than you could ever imagine. He’s been shot, stabbed, cut up, pushed out of a window, and any other horror you could ever imagine but somehow… none of that hurt would ever compare to the pain caused by your rejection.

You had the power to destroy him and you didn’t even know it. You didn’t know how much of him you carried with you, how easily you could make him fall. Against Gotham he was the Dark Knight, relentless, strong and menacing, capable of things you didn’t want to think about. Against you… he was nothing, powerless, a twig in your hand you could crush without a thought. He was weak against your beauteous thrall and he just wished he could’ve admitted that to himself so much sooner.

Bruce felt his heart constrict, his palms suddenly clammy and his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed roughly. His own heart pounded in his ears, beating under his hot skin, the reality of what he was about to say hitting him full force and he felt like he could pass out, right here on your fire escape, light headed and heavy chested.

He let out a big breath through his nose, gripping the wall between his bloody gloved hands, mustering up the confidence he needed and pushing his fear down, down and deep so it couldn’t be acknowledged anymore. He smothered his insecurities and doubts like a candle wick, clenched his jaw and cleared the smoke from his mind. Bruce looked up at you, eyes glimmering like fire light as they looked over your form once more. He looked up from your socks and your feet, up to your smooth legs and pink nightgown, up to your face, where he focused intently on your lips and nose and eyes.

You looked back at him, where he was staring at you with a type of ferocity and intensity it had your breath stuck in your throat, chills going down your spine.

“…Why I was in love with you.”

You swore your heart stopped.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Of course, you loved him back, and Bruce couldn’t have been happier about it. But, during the actual relationship he was very much still the same, but you could see that he was trying to be closer to you, it was just hard for him. You helped him, made him feel not so scared.

⋆˙⟡♡ You were patient with him, never judged or pushed him to do things you knew he had a hard time doing. He always wanted to talk to you about his parents but he would stop himself before he went in depth about it. That was something he needed time with, and you understood it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always doing small things for you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so focused on him. He would always smooth out your pillows for you, make you breakfast and be shy that he made something you didn’t like, he would even blow out your candle for you if you ever left it lit. He would give you small gifts, sometimes expensive, a bracelet or a necklace, a set of earrings his mother adored. You loved them all.

⋆˙⟡♡ You had to buy him those vanilla bean and raspberry candles you had. He set them up around his home because the smell reminded him of you and your house, his safe space.

⋆˙⟡♡ He still didn’t like to talk, but he loved to listen. He’d ask questions that were deeply intimate and personal because he wanted to know everything about you. He’d apologize for prodding but he really had no shame about it. He wanted to know you more, learn everything.

⋆˙⟡♡ He loved holding you in his sleep, you made his nightmares go away and made him feel less lonely. He would still flinch sometimes, keep his hands at appropriate distances away from your precious parts. He was a gentleman, that was for sure.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t sleep a lot still, so he’d always stare at you when you slept, brush his hand on your cheek when he’d leave in his Batman suit for the night. He hated leaving you, but knew he had responsibilities to his city he couldn’t abandon.

⋆˙⟡♡ He introduced you to Alfred, rather, Alfred went to clean up Bruce’s room early in the morning and found you two in a rather compromising position. He just chuckled and walked out while Bruce awkwardly scrambled to compose himself. You were mortified.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce liked to draw you a lot, most of the time from memory when he was bored on a late night, sitting on a rooftop with charcoal scratching on ripped paper. He didn’t show them to you, but you found them anyway.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce was soft, gentle with you, but sex was a different story, just depended on his day. Most of the time he was sweet, making up for leaving you and hurting you. He always carried so much guilt about it, even when you told him you were over it and understood why he did it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t come out with you as a couple to the press, as Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want them to badger you and question you, make you feel uncomfortable. He came to you a lot, his house was always under constant scrutiny from the public.

⋆˙⟡♡ He threatened your boss when you refused to quit your job. It was late, he was Batman, and your boss just so happened to walk past him. Bruce threw him against the wall with promises of pain if he didn’t treat you right. You had a sneaky suspicion your boyfriend had something to do with your now positive work atmosphere and sudden raise, but decided not to question him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always touching you, or kissing you, hesitant to show outright affection so he was subtle when he did it. A hand on your lower back, hovering over your jacket or gently pressing into it. A hand on your arm, a peck on your forehead, a kiss to your cheek when you’d fall asleep.

⋆˙⟡♡ He told you he loved you every night, rarely ever during the day. It was in his bed or yours, when it was silent and cozy, he’d whisper it in your hair or against your skin, and you’d smile and tell him the same.

⋆˙⟡♡ You never expected anything from him besides his love, but he always felt like he owed you something, grateful that you gave him this chance to be with you despite what he did.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was constantly worried about you, on edge when you would be out by yourself or come home later than usual on the nights he couldn’t see you. He would always think the worst, think you were dead and he was too late, someone found him out and was using you to blackmail him. All the worst scenarios to prepare himself for the worst outcomes.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is constantly having negative intrusive thoughts. You’ll leave him, he doesn’t deserve you, he should’ve stayed gone. He’ll go quiet and try to isolate himself when that happens, so you always try and support him and reassure him in any way you can.

⋆˙⟡♡ He still has such a hard time being vulnerable and talking about his past, but he tries with you. He’ll get tongue tied sometimes or a sentence will drift off before he can finish it, but he’ll try.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is always so busy he forgets to eat. You’ll constantly remind him food is good for you. So, some days he’ll go eating nothing at all, despite you and Alfred’s insistence. But when he does, it’s a big feast Alfred prepares for him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He is very sweet, a complete gentleman. He has the best manners. He always says his pleases and his thank yous. He’ll follow a question with, when you have a chance, if you can. With Alfred though he’ll be so distracted he’ll just walk away. He doesn’t mean to, just makes sure he’s extra gentle with you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He likes black and white films to play in the background when he’s not doing anything. Or slow, almost gothic music to really set the tone. He’s emo like that and I just know it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He goes to Alfred a lot for relationship advice, scared he’ll mess up and you’ll leave him. He wants to avoid making mistakes with you, so he’ll ask for help or reassurance on what to do.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce has a tendency to ignore any problem until it goes away, especially to avoid a fight with you. He’s confrontational when it comes to you, so he’ll let you have your way a lot of the time. He doesn’t like to fight with you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bruce was sweet and shy, always making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He never judged you when you’d tell him your stories or your past, he never accused you of things, and he never raised his voice at you when things would get frustrating. He loved you too much, appreciated you too much. You had no idea how happy you made him even if his face didn’t show it.

He was still wary, scared you’ll leave him, scared one of his enemies will find you out and take you away from him. But he was always there, watching and protecting, hiding in the shadows, being the shadow, on the nights you didn’t know. He may have been Gotham’s protector, but he was also yours.

He loved you and was grateful for you, so grateful he met you when he did and that you trusted him enough to let him see every lovely part of you. He vowed to protect you, to cherish you, and he made good on that promise. Even going as far as to blow out your candle every day before you’d leave for work. Couldn’t have you burning your house down, now could he?

Honestly, I could go on and on about this man so I think I have to end this here. But thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed, especially @diavolosbaby who requested this. I really hope you like it, and if you’re not satisfied or I didn’t answer your ask correctly then don’t be afraid to tell me 💕💕 constructive criticism isn’t bad mmkay ☺️💕

648 notes · View notes