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youvebeenlivingfictional · 27 days

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The Other Half Part Twenty Six

Previous Part | Masterlist

Notes: Okay. After some very careful consideration and soul-searching, this is going to be the last official chapter of The Other Half. I'll still welcome asks, and writing prompt fills if I post/reblog them, but this is the end of the official series. I love Shop Girl and Bruce, and I think I'm leaving them in a good place; I hope you all feel the same.

Thank you as always for indulging my silly stories, and thank you for following me through this unexpected fic journey 💗💗

Warnings: Just smut and fluff.

Summary: You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it.

But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night.

“Do I get a head start?”

Bruce chuckles at your question as he pulls the car up in front of the mansion.

“Depends. How far do you think you’ll be able to get?”

You hum as you consider, tipping your head from side to side.

“The first landing.” You realize as soon as you say it that there’s absolutely no way you’ll make it that far in your new shoes. Bruce seems to know it, too, his brows jumping as he nods.

“The first landing…And what do I get if I catch you?”

“Well, that’s up to you."

"Fine. Ten seconds—”

“Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“What if I make it without you catching me?”

Bruce tips his head a touch, a smug smile curling his lips and sending a thrill zipping through you.

“Ten seconds,” He reiterates without answering your question.

“Just ten?”

“...Nine—”

“Shit!” You scramble to undo your seat belt, hurrying out of the car as you hear Bruce turn it off. You fumble with your key, shoving the heavy door open and moving as quickly as you dare in your new heels, heading up the steps of the grand staircase. Your stomach flips as you hear the door close behind you, but you don’t dare turn to look. You make it up the first few steps, heart ticking up in your chest as you hear Bruce’s footsteps quick and gain on you. You’re three steps from your target—

You shriek as Bruce’s arms hook around your middle, easing you to a stop as your fingers just miss the first landing. Your giggling is marred by your heavy panting as Bruce presses more heavily against you, easing the two of you down against the steps.

“So fucking close,” You manage.

“With a head start.” Bruce’s reminder is chased by a kiss to your shoulder. His hands smooth over your hips as you gently twist in his arms to face him, scooching back onto the landing. Bruce’s lips are on yours in a second, slipping tenderly against them. You draw your knees up to cradle his hips, groaning as he presses closer. His hands slip under your dress, easing the skirt higher. You swallow thickly, sucking in a nervous breath as his kisses drift to your neck.

“Bruce—”

“Mm.”

“Alfred—?”

“He’s at the penthouse.”

You let yourself relax at that, relieved that you won’t have to worry about him wandering by or hearing you. You bite your lip as Bruce’s hands smooth up your inner thighs, tipping your hips up as his fingers hook in the seat of your panties, exposing your heated flesh to cool air. You shiver as he brushes his knuckle gently against your plumping lips, his eyes growing dark as his gaze sweeps up your front.

He leans back, pushing your thighs wide with his broad shoulders. He eases your panties more tightly to the side, the lace pushing almost harshly against the crease of your hip. He holds your gaze as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your mound. His kisses drift lower, his tongue teasing at your slit. Each touch has a hint more pressure than the last.

Your eyelids flutter, and you let your head tip back, lowering yourself against the rug on the landing. Bruce draws one of your legs up over his shoulders, baring you to him more fully. His tongue strokes your clit for a few moments before he delves lower, groaning softly at the taste of you. Your toes curl in your shoes as Bruce laps broadly across your pussy. He never settles, tongue and fingers stretching and teasing you until you’re shaking, grinding down into his touch.

Your whimpers and moans echo in the cavernous front hall as curls and twists his fingers, pushing you closer to your release. You finally cum with a shout, back arching as your hips bound against him. Bruce only draws away when you gently push at his forehead, his sucking kisses against your clit turning to a gentle nuzzle against your inner thigh.

You sigh softly as he draws his hand away, standing. You reach up, palming his hard cock beneath his trousers. He groans, taking hold of your hand and tugging you up.

“Lemme—”

“Not here.”

“Bruce," You pout.

“Don’t worry,” He leads the way toward the stairs. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“I don’t get another head start?”

“Do you really think you can outrun me after that?” Bruce asked, throwing you a knowing glance over his shoulder. You smiled guiltily, giggling as he grins.

“...You still awake back there?” You mumble. It’s a few long moments before Bruce lets out a soft, hazy hum, his arms tightening around your middle as he cuddles closer, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. You smile, rolling over to face him. His eyes are closed, hair mussed from where you had grasped and tugged it. Your body feels almost syrupy as you move against him. You’d been certain that he’d get up and check on the news once the two of you were through, but he’d stayed true to his word, cuddling up in bed even after you had gotten cleaned up.

You raise a hand, gently stroking his cheek. He hums, face tipping up into the caress. You know that you’re going to need to savor this while you have it. You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it.

But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night.

Your hand settles on his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. You smile as he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm.

But the city isn’t held by Bruce the way you are, either.

“Thank you,” You murmur. Bruce’s eyes blink open slowly, fixing on you as he smiles sleepily.

“For what?”

“For today. For…Everything,” You shake your head a little. “Everything that you do, and are, I just…Thank you.”

Bruce leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. His hands skim up your back, drawing you into his chest, legs tangling together as if you can fuse to one another.

“Today was good?” He mumble buzzes against your lips, and you grin.

“Today was amazing and you know it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything that could’ve made it better?”

You consider for a moment, gaze lowering to his chest. Michelle’s prediction rattles in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…But—

“No—”

“What’s that face for?”

You can’t sneak anything by him.

“Nothing.”

“...Baby,” He plies softly. You sigh, shaking your head.

“It’s not—It’s just something Mish said.”

“What’d she say?”

“...She thought you were going to propose.”

Bruce doesn’t lean away like you expect him to. His hands just continue their gentle circles against your back.

“Did you think I was going to?” He asks.

“No.”

“Do you want me to?”

It’s a fair question; it’s something the two of you have neglected to discuss since your fight. And as happy as you are in this moment with Bruce, you know that it isn’t a true representation of your relationship. You’ve had as many lows as you’ve had highs, and the lows have been devastating.

“...I don’t know,” You admit. You hear Bruce draw a deep breath in through his nose, and you see him nod a little out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay.”

You don’t ask if he wants to. You don’t think you could handle the answer just now, either way.

“Well,” Bruce does let go of you then, reaching over and opening his bedside drawer, “There was one more thing I meant to give you today. Before you get jumpy, it isn’t a ring, but it is something special.” You push yourself to sit up as Bruce scooches back, holding out a velvet jewelry box. Your brow furrows as you take hold of it. You give him a guarded, nervous look before you open it. Your stomach flips, and tears prickle at your eyes when you catch sight of your discarded lariat necklace. You haven’t seen it since you ripped it off and called him a coward, and you’d been certain you would never see it again. But there’s something different about it than you remember.

You reach down, trailing your finger over the strand and coming to stop just above another jewel.

“...I thought—”

“It was a diamond,” Bruce nods, “But…” He reaches out, gingerly lifting the necklace out of the box and fastening it around your neck. “I wanted to give it a personal touch.”

“What do you mean?”

Bruce traces his finger along the silver, brushing against the dangling emerald before he gently slides his fingers beneath the new addition.

“This was one of my mother’s pearls.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move or breathe or think. Bruce’s gaze flits to your face, sweeping your no doubt stunned expression.

“I thought about proposing tonight,” He admits, “But I think we need more time. That doesn’t mean that I can’t make you a promise—a promise to be honest with you. A promise to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives. A promise to come home to you every night.” Bruce raises his hand, curling his fingers around your trembling jaw. “To keep my temper out of it, to push through the hard things with you instead of running from you—running from us. And to fight for this as hard as I fight for Gotham—and harder, when I need to.”

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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bigbeakbirdenjoyer · 10 months

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rule

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #196 #r/196 #r196 #izanagis burden #the other half #my cat is going to eager edge me #while i shit #help me i am going to go feral

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daisiesonafield-blog · 9 months

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Nooo https://twitter.com/louis_tomlinson/status/33341514285318145?s=46&t=BRJY4ZQz89uxpR8KiGdarQ

Louis is a hopeless romantic

#the other half #Louis is a hopeless romantic

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quixtrix · 3 months

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things dolph laserhawk would die from experiencing

a singular serenade

showa era super sentai power rangers series

massage chairs

those arabic love poems

lobotomy kaisen

the death of internet forums

white people boiled chicken

selena's entire discography (or really bidibidibombom and amor prohibido)

the us navy seal copypasta

beta fish

credit scores

the concept of venezia vs venice

Hyunjin from Stray Kidz

#half of these are jokes #the other half #he'd start sobbing and jus actually blow up #the most serious one is actually credit scores #because wdym u dont know how to use money #hyunjin from skz is actually because my headmate dolph is in LOVE with that man #captain laserhawk #dolph laserhawk

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raurquiz · 7 months

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#happybirthday #tatianamaslany #actress #JenniferWalters #shehulk #SheHulkAttorneyatLaw #perrymason #orphanblack #stronger #destroyer #BiteSizeHalloween #TheHarperHouse #Trollhunters #TalesofArcadia #RiseoftheTitans #PinkWall #TheOtherHalf #WomaninGold #Invincible

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gendertraitorleda · 11 months

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Tatiana Maslany featured in LA Times by Jane Kim

#tatiana maslany #orphan black #clone club #mary page marlowe #she hulk #marvel #network on broadway #she hulk attorney at law #the hulk #woman in gold #grown up movie star #two lovers and a bear #pink wall #the other half

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mareenavee · 6 months

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The Other Half

Hello hello another prompt fill! This one is for Heart(h)fire!

@changelingsandothernonsense gave me some caveats for this one:

Okay, Athis's POV, 1st person. He's going to pop the question. What's going through his head?

So of course, this is World Canon (and contains spoilers for that one.) It occurs just before the events of Chapter 6.

Title song inspo: Northern Wind by City and Color:

You're the northern wind Sending shivers down my spine You're like fallen leaves In an autumn night You're the lullaby That's singing me to sleep You are the other half You're like a missing piece

Without further ado~

The Other Half

19th of Heartfire 4E 201

Curse the Nords for their height. Especially curse this one, for thinking himself so very clever, hanging the Amulet of Mara he’d purchased above my head like it was some kind of joke. Well, joke’s on him—I was headed down toward Riften to buy a real one for myself, anyway. But he knew that. I’d told him. And, though I didn’t want to admit it, the entirety of Jorrvaskr knew where my head was at. But curse Farkas, nevertheless.

Though it was playing exactly into his hands, I leapt for the thing, twisting the copper chain through my fingers so he would have no choice but to let go, or it would break. The room exploded into a cacophony of laughter. Once I had the amulet, I left in a huff and let him and the others cackle and chortle like the fools they were.

“Come on, Athis! We were just messing with you!” Farkas called. His voice, as usual, echoed through the long hallway of the sleeping quarters. When I didn’t respond—because it didn’t require more of my time—his thought concluded with the opening of a bottle of mead and a giant sigh.

“I give him two weeks, if that,” Ria said, her voice sharp and laced with a challenge.

“Nah. Six or eight days at most. He’s smitten,” Farkas laughed. “Plus it’s Nyenna.”

The sentence cut off before I could parse what exactly that last bit was supposed to mean, but it wasn’t worth it to turn around and find out. In spite of myself, I grinned and slipped the chain over my head. This amulet was the real deal. The warm, soft buzz of its enchantment felt strange on my skin as I settled it under my tunic. It was different from the enchantments on Nyenna’s armor or the shock of her own magic. This one felt somehow…comforting. Hers felt more like an invitation to fight, but such things seemed practical for battlemages.

My back cracked as I settled down on my bed. It was just a spare straw mattress tossed on the floor in the last remaining corner—I’d let Nyenna take my old spot. She needed the shelf and nightstand for the sheer amount of books Farengar had her hauling around at any given time. The relative quiet of the empty sleeping quarters lulled my thoughts into some semblance of order as I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall, listening to the fading chatter of my friends in the other room. -> read the rest on AO3.

#MareenaWrites #The Other Half #Athis #Nyenna #LDB/Athis #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #skyrim #skyrim fic #prompt fill fic #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

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dmc-questions-anon · 2 months

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It's raining REALLY hard right now, and for some reason I wanted to stand in the rain so I got my shoes on and went out there, immediately regretted it and went back inside. I still have the intense desire to stand in the rain.

#I was out there barely even a second and my hair is still soaked #One half of my soul is telling me it wants me to stand in the rain #The other half #the half that hates getting wet that is #is saying that it's at odds with the other half of my soul

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loveqira · 1 year

Photo

Destiny 2

#🌸#destiny 2 #bungie #swords #half-truths #the other half

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 months

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Hi! I love love love the other half. After the last chapter I hope Bruce does something nice for shop girl (and for himself to ig). Them being sweet just makes me screech.

Previous Part | Masterlist | Final Part

Some sweet Bruce comin' riiiight up

Warnings: Very light angst; mostly fluff

Not beta-read

“Are you awake?” Bruce’s breath brushes against the bare skin of your shoulder. You grunt softly, shifting where you lay on your belly. The sheets are soft and warm beneath you; you can see sunlight beginning to creep in between the curtains of the master bedroom of the mansion.

“...No,” You finally mumble, voice grumbling and thick with sleep. Bruce chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder as his palm brushes over your back, dipping beneath the covers. You hum softly, arching up into his touch and sighing through your nose.

“Why are you awake?” You counter. “What time did you get in?”

“A little after two.”

“Oh, wow. Early night for you.”

“Moderately.”

You roll onto your back, gently dislodging Bruce’s hand. You scrub the sleep from your eyes with the heels of your palms before you finally tip your chin up, getting a better look at him. He does look more well-rested than he has in a while: his eyes are bright as he smiles down at you.

Christmas and New Years had passed with little to no incident. Your Christmas celebration had been small; the most tense point had been a short video call with your parents. Conversation overall had been stilted, but not as bad as pulling teeth. New Year’s had been spent at Liz and Grant’s for their blowout celebration, but your night with Bruce had ended early when the signal had shown in the sky.

Still, despite your bumps and hurdles, you feel like the two of you are slowly inching toward where you had been before your break-up. Some of the buoyancy is coming back to both of you. With your relationship no longer Gotham’s best-kept secret, Bruce openly picks you up after work. Sure, you’re still mobbed by the press, but you’re so used to it that it hardly makes a dent anymore. You aren’t tip-toeing around one another. If you have a disagreement, Bruce stays to talk it out. Now and again he may step out of the room to get his head together—but he always comes back.

It isn’t perfect—it will never be perfect—but it feels more solid, and safe.

You raise your hand, sweeping it gently across his cheek, and giggling softly as he tips his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Well someone,” Bruce leans closer, brushing his nose against yours, “Has plans for you today.”

“For me? Little ol’ me?”

You hardly have a chance to get the tease out before Bruce captures your lips in a tender kiss. You sink back into the mattress as he presses closer, looping your arms around his shoulders and smiling as his tongue gently probes between your lips. You hum at the feeling, shifting your hips as Bruce’s hand skims across them, then down your thigh. You pout as he draws back just a little, dropping another peck to your lips before his forehead rests against yours.

“What are these plans, exactly?”

“I don’t want to ruin any surprises.”

“Surprises?” You lean into it as your brows raise. Plural?”

“You’ll see.” Bruce gives you one more quick, warm kiss before he leans away. “Shower, get dressed. I’ll get you some coffee.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, an intrigued smile curling your lips. “What the hell are you up to, mister?”

“You’ll see!”

Bruce doesn’t let a single tip slip throughout your shared coffee, or on the way out—not even when you crowd him into an alcove by the stairs and nibble on his earlobe. He nearly crumbles for a moment, but he rests his hands on your hips and gives them a lusty squeeze before reassuring: “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

You narrow your eyes slightly as Bruce steers you out of the dim space, a smile curling your lips as you take in the rising flush in his cheeks.

“Looking a little flustered there, Mr. Wayne.”

“What ever gave you that idea—Alright,” He chuckles as you lean in, pushing cool air over his earlobe. “You can’t get secrets out of me that way.” He curls his arm around yours, steering you toward the front steps of the mansion.

“Mm, but I was this close. What would the sinister of Gotham think if they found out that Batman needed so little teasing to crumble?”

“Why do you think the helmet covers my ears?”

You snort, bumping your hip against him before the two of you slow at the sight of Alfred standing in front of one of Bruce’s cars.

“Go on,” Bruce urges softly when you meet his eye again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“At one of my many surprises?”

“Exactly.”

You pucker your lips, and grin as Bruce leans in for another indulgent kiss.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He pats your lower back, urging you forward. “I’ll see you later.”

You grunt, jogging down the front steps.

“Morning, Alfred.”

“Good morning, miss.”

“I take it you’re in on these shenanigans?”

“Shenanigans may be a rather harsh word for the day ahead.” He shoots you a wink as he opens the door for you.

“Any hints?”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

Alfred leaves you at the front door of Grove, one of your favorite restaurants, at 11:30 AM on the dot, and tells you that your name is on the reservation. You linger in the reception area as the waiter prepares your table.

“Ugh, tell them to hurry up, I want a fucking mimosa.”

You shriek at the familiar voice, whirling around from the reception desk and right into Michelle’s arms. She cackles, and the two of you hug one another tightly for a long few moments.

“What are you doing here!” You ask, reeling away to get a better look at her.

"Moneybags offered to fly me in. No way was I turning down first class, a free brunch, and…Some other stuff.”

“Ugh, not you, too,” You whine. You let it drop just long enough for the waiter to show the two of you to a quiet table at the back of the restaurant. You let Michelle order the two of you a round of mimosas before you lean across the table. “Come on, not even a hint?”

“Well, I’m going to be around for a few hours, but that’s all you’re getting.”

“When did he reach out?”

“Like…I don’t know, sometime during gooch week?”

“During what?”

“Gooch week—you know, the week between Christmas and New Years? Like the bit between the asshole and the—”

“Okay, I got it, I got,” You wave her off as the waiter sets down your mimosas. “What did he tell you, at least? That made you come down here.”

“He said that he wanted to do something nice for you.”

You hum thoughtfully, narrowing your eyes as you consider what that could possibly mean. Bruce does nice things for so often.

“I think he still feels like he needs to make up for the whole…Situation.”

“Well, he does,” Michelle mutters, taking up her glass and taking a deep swig. You fight back a chastising frown.

“...He’s been getting better. We’ve been better,” You insist.

“Do you think he’s going to propose tonight?”

Her question stuns you, and for a moment, you can’t say anything. The prospect makes your head spin, and you actually lean back in your seat with the weight of it.

“I…” You shake your head, “I don’t…”

Michelle’s lift with interest, and she leans in.

“You don’t…what? Know how big the ring is gonna be?”

“I don’t think he’s going to ask,” You laugh. “I mean, at least, not right now. He and I haven’t spoken about it in a long time.”

“Not even after the attack?”

“We’ve talked about a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.”

Michelle grunts softly. “If he proposed tonight, what would you say?”

“He’s not going to.”

“But if he did?”

“Knee-jerk reaction? Probably yes. But we’ve still got a lot of crap to sort through.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” You flub for a a reasonable answer before you manage: “He’s an insomniac.”

Michelle's expression is rife with disbelief, and you couldn't blame her. To a reasonable person, it's probably not a great reason to end a relationship.

“That’s a deal breaker for you?”

“I know it sounds kinda petty, but it makes more of an impact than you’d think.”

“What else?”

“I mean, I’d kind of like him to make peace with my parents before any of that. Not like, go to them and ask for my hand—I don’t care about that and they don’t, either. But if he’s going to be family to them, I just want all of that bad blood from Thanksgiving cleared up.”

“He wasn’t given the green after the office?”

“I mean, they appreciated it, but my mom is convinced that bad luck just follows him.”

“Maybe it does.”

You purse your lips, swirling your mimosa a little.

“Maybe.”

The two of you consider it for a few moments before Michelle reaches out, patting your hand and pointing to your menu.

“Let’s order. I don’t want to miss our spa appointment.”

“Spa?”

She winces. “Just act surprised when we turn up so Lord Fancy doesn’t report back to the billionaire that I spoiled anything.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Bruce smiles smugly as he watches you nearly double over in laughter. You don’t care that the entire floor staff of Chef du Roi is looking at you like you’re insane.

“I figured we should try the food here at least once,” Bruce insists as you calm, steering you by the arm toward your table. You swipe a few tears that had gathered from your eyes, chuckling still as he draws your chair out for you.

“Thank you.” Your smile widens as Bruce leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before he rounds to his seat. You take the proffered menu from the waiter, flipping it open. You wait until the waiter is out of earshot before you comment, “You know, I’ve been dying for Chipotle lately.”

“Ha-ha.”

You giggle, wriggling your foot out of your new pair of pumps and gently brushing your toe along his calf. Bruce’s gaze flickers to yours from beneath his lashes, and you fight back a devilish grin.

“So, the spa, the shopping spree, flying in my best friend…May I ask what triggered such largesse?”

“Well, it’s not every day that I have to scramble to make up for missing our first anniversary by bringing you back to the scene of our first date,” Bruce comments, glancing between menu pages. It feels a little like a goad—especially considering the fact that he’s the reason you’d missed your anniversary, and you both know it. You just hum thoughtfully, glancing over the entrees.

“...Technically the scene of our first date was the diner near the store I worked at,” You remind him. “This was our second date—And we didn’t even eat here.”

“Nitpick nitpick nitpick.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Michelle?”

“Alfred.”

Bruce chuckled, setting his menu aside. “How is Michelle?”

“She’s doing pretty well. Still adjusting to Keystone City, obviously, but she said that she enjoys how quiet it is by compairson…Thank you, by the way.”

“I know how much you’ve been missing her.”

“...She’s worried.”

“That I’ll do it again?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you worried?” “Should I be?”

You don’t look up from your menu for a moment. You can feel him watching you heavily, but you don’t let it bow or shy you back from the question. You feel the table shift as he leans forward a little.

“Baby.”

“Mm?”

“If for some reason I lose my mind and do that again, I want you to take everything out of the mansion that isn’t nailed down.”

You bite back a smile, nodding. “Do me a favor and jot that out on a napkin. Alfred can notarize it when we get home.”

“Alfred can notarize it tomorrow morning. He has the night off.”

“Why’s that?”

Bruce’s foot hooks around your ankle, tugging a little closer beneath the table. You can’t help but wonder what sort of picture you make to the staff—Bruce, watching you so closely, you, studying your menu as if the waiter’s going to quiz you on it, and your feet hooked together, visible just beneath the end of the tablecloth.

“Because if you’re amenable, our plans don’t end with dinner.”

“What do they end with?”

“That is up to you.”

“Do I get to know my options?”

“I think you know your options.”

“Mm.” You make a show of turning the page of your menu, stalling and trying to weigh your words. “...So is this going to be an evening on the…Earlier side?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“...But if you can’t help it?”

“It’s going to take a lot to get me away from you tonight.”

“You know if you changed one word and omitted another, you would’ve been quoting Toto’s Africa.”

“That wasn’t on purpose.”

“Wasn’t it?” You cast him a glance from beneath your lashes.

“No.”

Your brows tip up, and his stern insistence melts before he shrugs. “Heard it on the way over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s catchy.”

“It’s very popular.”

“I mean it.”