City Lights Love (Bolin x Reader)

Blood in the Cup

After seeing the uproar at the gala, I didn't want to stay anymore and left without saying anything. When I get home, I take off my shoes and head into my bedroom. I undo my hair and let it fall around my shoulders. I take off my jewelry and as I start to take off my makeup, I stare at my lips in the mirror. I think about Bolin, how he held my face in his powerful hands. I place my fingers where his thumb rested on the corner of my mouth. I think about that moment, mesmerized by the juxtaposition of Bolins stern look and his gentle demeanor. If he were here, where would his hand wander? Would he let his hand wander down my neck, lift my chin and plant a kiss under my ear? Would his fingers dance on the buttons of my qipao dress and undo them? Would he place his hand under the collar of my dress, slide it off my shoulder and continue to trail kisses down my neck? Would I shiver at every kiss he would place on me? Would he hold me gingerly and passionately kiss me? Or would his hand grip my tender skin as he kisses me deeply with his body pressed on top of mine? Would he hover over me and stare at me with hunger in his eyes as he teases my body, soaking up my every moan and expression of pleasure that flickered across my face? I trace the outer edge of my bottom lip, thinking about these maddening thoughts. Such wonderful yet maddening thoughts. Holy crap... I need to calm the fuck down.

I shake my head and finish taking off my makeup. I need to get a hold of myself. I change into a large shirt and shorts, then I go into the kitchen. I put a kettle on the stove to make some tea. After the water is done, I make some lavender tea. I turn on the radio and tune into a station with soft evening jazz. I turn up the volume and head out onto the balcony without closing the door behind me so I can still hear the music. I sit in one of the chairs and prop my feet up onto the cool metal table. I look up into the sky and take a long sip of my tea and try to relax, but my thoughts are brought back to Korra. I went to the gala rooting for Korra's humiliation and I guess I got my wish. I know I kinda won the little internal battle against Korra, but it doesn't... feel right. I don't know how to explain it but I almost feel guilt. Why should I be? It's not like I did anything to her. I just... supported the humiliation of the one person who has the best chance at beating Amon.

"Ugh. I'm an idiot." I say under my breath. Then the ringing of a bell echoes throughout the city, emanating from Avatar Island. It's exactly midnight. I need to sleep. I have to go to the hideout tomorrow but I don't want to sleep yet. I'll just go in the afternoon and only stay a short while. It's not like Viper is going to kick me out. I sit for a while longer, watching the lights from the buildings surrounding me turn out, one by one.

Over the course of the next week, I simply work. No word from the guys, not a single thing. I've come back to my world and they have gone back to theirs. It's lonely. I start to dive more into the book my dad gave me. I start reading more and more about bloodbending. It's graphic. I hate to read it but my curiosity is stronger than that. I start to take it with me everywhere. On the trolly, in my office, even in the bathroom so people can't find it.

During the week, Korra and Tarrlok's task force raided a secret equalist hideout with success, giving hope to the city. I listen to their press conference on the radio at the end of the week while I'm at work in the Threats hideout. I'm listening to it right now. I hear Korra challenge Amon publicly to a fight tonight on Avatar Island. I have to admit, she seems more confident than she was at the gala. I suppose that's good. I'm still mad that Bolin likes her, but I guess that's not her fault. I should probably give her a chance at the very least, but I'm still conflicted. Do I actually have to talk to her to make this foggy feeling go away? I dread the thought of sitting down and talking to her. I tend to only judge people by what they do, I kinda have to since I'm in the triad. Ya know, prove yourself through your actions not your words. You can't trust a single word anyone says around here.

I try to go back to my work but I can't. My brain is fried from all the numbers. Calculating stuff by hand is the worst. I sigh exhaustively, running my hands through my hair. I have to do something else. Something that actually matters or will make a difference in my life. Anything would work, I don't care. Then an idea comes to mind, but I can't do it now. Not here. I pack up a few files I'm working on along with the rest of my belongings into my messenger bag. I hastily leave the hideout and head home.

When I get home, I set my bag on the kitchen table and dig through it for my dads book. After practicing all the normal techniques I had picked out from the book, I've mastered all of them. Well, all except plant bending. That didn't seem as useful as I initially thought. It's not like Republic City will ever have an overgrowth of plants, right? There's only one thing left. Here it is! I pull out the book and feel strangely more eager than usual to open it.

Yes...

I grab a cup from the kitchen and a small, sharp knife. I go into the bathroom, grab a bandage, some gauze and a towel. Then I freeze. Where... should I do this? Living room? No, it might get on the furniture. The balcony seems too public, even though I'm on one of the top floors of the building. How about... ya, that will work! I take my collection of items upstairs and I open the door to my office. My dad's office. The place I feel safest.

I clear the desk, taking everything off. I unfold the towel and lay it flat across the desk. Almost ritualistically, I set the cup in the center. To the right, I set the knife down with the bandage and gauze underneath it. To the left, I set down the book and open it. I flip to the page with the introduction and dad's hand written note, reading it aloud. "Please do not read any further. Once you proceed, what you do can not be undone."

Is... Is this the right thing to do? I look into the bottom of the empty cup.

It's ok. No one will know...

I... suppose it doesn't hurt to try. I glance back at the book and my eyes drift across one sentence: 'Ice your veins, for you must be cold blooded to not feel empathy for the pain you're causing.' I don't want to cause pain.

To be a bender is to be a fighter. If you want to fight and win, you must cause pain. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS!

"Right. That's how the world works." I take a seat in the chair and face forward. I reach for the knife and hold it firmly in my right hand. "No pain, no gain." In one swift motion, I drag the knife across the palm of my left hand, slicing open the skin. I hold my left hand above the cup, letting the blood drain out of my body. I open and close my hand to keep the wound open. After about five minutes, the bleeding stops completely. I open my hand and there's blood covering every inch of my palm. I gently pat the blood away with the corner of the towel. After placing gauze over the length of the cut, I wrap the width of my hand with the bandage and tie it. I pick up the cup and swirl the blood around, observing it. Yep, its blood. It's slightly thicker than water, so how hard can it be? I set the cup back in its place and I skim through the first part of the chapter in the book.

I've already read it all but I just have to make sure I'm not forgetting- oh shit! Is there a full moon tonight!? I turn around in the chair and look out the window that's behind me. It's cloudy. I get up and stand at the pane of glass that separates this room from the outside world and search the sky. I find a patch of glowing clouds and wait for them to part. If there isn't a full moon, oh well. It will be uh... a big shame. "Won't be able to do it if there isn't a full moon." I laugh nervously. I wait with baited breath, looking for any excuse to stop. The moon reveals itself from its cover of clouds and... its full. I sigh and turn around. Moon beams fill the room, casting light on the bloody blade and sullied towel. The moon casts my shadow down onto the cup as if the moon spirit is refusing to give light to what I'm about to do. I look back up to the moon. "I'm sorry, princess."