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Inexplicable Things (Chapter 3)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

Read on on AO3 here 

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

When Harry finally drags himself home he feels wrung out, like exhaustion has taken root deep in his bones. He keeps his head down, eyes focused on the floor and crosses his fingers that no one is home. 

“Hi,” Theo calls to him softly, as soon as the door opens. He’s spread out on the couch holding the book Harry had been reading earlier. The lamplight falls on him softly making his skin glow golden in the dusky light of the room. 

“You okay?” He continues, looking up at Harry with a gentle light in his eyes. 

“Um, I think so,” Harry lies, hoping it isn’t obvious. He steps closer and Theo swings himself into a sitting position. He pats the newly vacated space next to him inviting Harry to sit. 

“Well,” Theo says, syllables long and drawn out, “I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the p and looking determinately at the flames in the fireplace, “Nothing to talk about here.” 

“It seems like Draco brings up a lot of emotions in you.” Theo says calmly, putting his hand on his thigh. 

“For the thousandth time, it’s not like that.” Harry snaps brushing Theo’s hand away. 

“Hmm,” Theo murmurs, his intense aura of calm is starting to annoy Harry, “Well, first of all that’s the first I’ve said anything about it so it’s really not the thousandth time. Second of all, I think you should tell me how it is because there’s clearly something going on that you feel the need to defend yourself about.” 

“Nope. Nothing.” Harry grits his teeth so hard it hurts. 

“Harry, I found you half naked in Ron’s pub’s loo kissing your childhood nemesis turned maybe lover turned who even knows what and then you looked straight at me and ran away, only to return two hours later looking like you’ve been crying,” Theo throws his hands up in exasperation, “I think you might have something to talk about.” 

When Theo puts it like that it does sound sort of insane and the thing is, maybe Harry could benefit from talking about Draco. Theo might give him some perspective, help him differentiate the present from the past. 

“Okay fine. We hooked up for a while in eighth year and then one night he walked out on me. If you really want to know what’s going on though you should ask the stupid blonde git. He’s the one who bloody left.” He grabs a pillow off the couch and throws it hard into the wall next to him watching it bounce off the sage wallpaper and tumble to the ground. 

“Wow, you’re not bitter at all,” Theo says with a sarcastic smile. 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles, turning back towards him, “I’m in emotional distress.” 

“Yep,” Theo says grinning a little, “That’s been made pretty clear.” He waits a minute, then adds, “So do you want to tell me about it a little?” 

Harry sighs and stretches his long legs out on the couch shifting sideways till his head falls onto Theo’s thighs. The firelight reflects on his face in stripes of golden light setting his green eyes on fire. Harry trails his eyes down his face taking in his shapely cheekbones and tanned skin. He thinks, not for the first time, how easy it would have been if they could have fallen in love.

“Well,” He starts and then pauses, “They roomed all the eighth years together in the same dorm. I was with Dean, Terry, and Neville. Ron was with Blaise, Draco and Michael.”

“I didn’t know you and Ron got separated like that,” Theo says, looking pensieve. 

“Yeah, he didn’t take it well at first,” That was a bit of an understatement. Ron had thrown an armchair across the common room and yelled at Mcgonagall. She’d refused to grant him a room switch and he’d boycotted her class for two whole weeks until Hermione told him she’d break things off if he didn’t start attending class. The threat, unsurprisingly, had worked and as time went by he’d resigned himself to his fate. Though, that didn’t stop him from pouting about it daily and sneaking away at night to sleep in Hermione's bed. 

The absence of Ron in Draco’s dorm had often been helpful, Micheal stayed late in the library most nights studying and Blaise was often gone having amorous adventures (Harry only knew that because he liked to regale them with graphic stories every morning at breakfast). This meant it was easy for Harry to slip through the door unnoticed and quickly slide between the green curtains surrounding Draco’s bed. 

“So was sharing a common room what made you realize you liked Draco?” Theo asks, looking down at Harry through thick eyelashes. 

“Not immediately,” Harry replies, “It was more that the forced proximity forced us to see each other for who we really were.”

Harry thinks about the first time he saw Draco study in the common room book held high against his face, brow furrowed. Harry had been unable to look away. The idea of Draco Malfoy curled up doing something as unassuming as reading a textbook felt unfathomable. Draco was a Death Eater, had let Voldemort into the castle, and yet there curled up in a brocade armchair he looked so mundane, so normal, it was hard to wrap his head around. Harry watched as he turned the pages, eyes squinting and serious. He noticed that every couple of pages Draco brought his long slender fingers to his mouth and wet them with the flick of a tongue to help grasp his parchment more easily. 

When Ron had walked into the room Harry had quickly thrown himself into raucous conversation, grateful for the distraction. He hadn’t liked the way that looking at Draco like that made him question things. 

In the next couple weeks he became distracted by glimpses of other versions of Draco. Draco tumbling into the common room early in the morning, the crease of a pillow on his cheek, hair rumpled. Draco sitting in the corner of the room, head tilted back against the wood paneling, laughing at Blaise’s joke as they shared a bottle of whiskey. 

Things hadn’t really changed between them until the night Harry stumbled into the common room late at night mind still riding on the coattails of a nightmare to find Draco, pale and alone, huddled in the corner of the coach crying. 

Harry had tripped over the leg of an armchair and Draco had turned to him, eyes brimming with tears. There, illuminated by a single lamp he looked so young and hurt, so fragile that Harry had moved towards him, tentatively perching next to him on the couch. 

Draco had yelled at him then, in a broken hiss, so as not to wake other people. He’d told him to go away and called him a variety of obscene names, some Harry hadn’t ever heard before. Harry had sat silently and ignored his tirade until he’d finally given up and sunk back desolately into the cushions. That night they sat in silence for hours watching the flames flicker and consume. 

It had taken two weeks of them stumbling upon each other in the dark for them to speak a single sentence. 

“So, when did you realize?” Theo prompts him and Harry realizes he’s been staring quietly at the ceiling for several seconds. 

“It took me so long,” Harry tells him, looking sheepish, “I didn’t realize till he kissed me.” 

Harry pauses, staring up at Theo’s chin. He tries to focus on the warmth of Theo’s body underneath him, the glimmer of light on his face. He draws a conscious breath, stomach rising with it. His mind won’t stop playing the scene for him in an obsessive loop; the dark of the potions classroom, the green of the flames beneath the cauldron, and Draco’s lips against his soft, cautious, like Harry might rip away at any moment. 

“That makes sense for you,” Theo tells him, laughing a little. 

“Why does it make sense for me?” Harry asks, feeling a little put out. 

“You tend to be kind of unaware of your emotions,” Theo says carefully, “I think it has to do with the way you were raised. We emulate a lot of the patterns we were taught as children, even subconsciously.” 

Harry is suddenly reminded of the period two years ago when Theo forced himself to read at least six extremely large psychology textbooks. 

“Anyway, he kissed you and you liked it and then what?” Theo continues hurriedly, probably trying to distract from the fact that Harry has unknowingly been the subject of his psychoanalysis.  

“We fumbled around in the dark, in hidden alcoves, in the potions lab late at night. I didn’t tell anyone about it. I don’t think Draco did either. Most of the time we didn’t even talk about it to each other, but we kept doing it.” 

When Harry remembers eighth year it’s a montague of wandering hands, soft touches and secret smiles. 

“When he showed up in the DMLE it was hard,” He admits ignoring the quaver in his voice, “It reminded me of how easily I fell in love with him and how little he hesitated to take it all away.” 

“Circe,” Theo breathes, reaching down and carding a hand through Harry’s hair, “So he didn’t feel the same?” 

“I thought he might have,” Harry admits, leaning into his gentle touch, “Everything was just so good between us. By the end of the year we were sleeping together most nights. We talked about everything, the war, our childhoods. I guess we talked about everything except how we felt.” 

Theo makes a pensieve noise, blowing out a breath of air in a little puffing sound. “So what made you think that he suddenly didn’t ?” 

“He left,” Harry says simply, closing his eyes. He watches the scene play out on the inside of his eyelids. 

He’d been aware of it before he even opened his eyes. They’d left the window open and with the lack of body heat next to him he’d woken up with goosebumps along his skin. If he was honest with himself he’d already known something was wrong then. He’d felt it in the depths of his stomach, in the unsteady beat of his pulse. He’d rushed out of the room in his pajamas and stumbled upon Blaise in the common room. Usually he tried to be discreet, but that day was different. He’d matched right up to Blaise in front of everyone and asked if he knew where Draco had gone. When Blaise had explained he’d left. Harry had turned around and walked directly out of the room. He couldn’t comprehend how Draco could treat him so cruelly. 

He spent the rest of the day convinced there had been a misunderstanding, that Draco would come back for him, but a day turned into a week and suddenly it was graduation. Draco returned, just for the day. He ignored Harry the whole time, looked straight past him like he wasn’t even there. Harry had thought he would go crazy with the feeling of missing someone who was right in front of him, close enough to touch but impossible to hold. Looking back on it, he doesn’t even remember the rest of graduation, just Draco’s eyes cold and blank and the horrible ache blossoming in his chest. 

“And when he came back for graduation he refused to talk to me.” There’s a traitorous tear slipping out from between Harry’s tightly closed eyelids. He swipes at it angrily. Theo pretends he doesn't see. 

“I knew he was leaving that morning for his potions mastery. We’d talked about it for weeks. He was so excited. I just thought we’d talk about it before he left. That I would have time to tell him how I felt and we would find a way to make it work. I didn’t think he’d just leave me.” His voice cracks as he finishes, and he pulls a great shuddering breath deep into his lungs. 

Theo sighs, “That’s horrible Harry. It must have made everything worse that no one even knew about it.” 

“It did. Though, they definitely knew something was wrong. I started going out a lot. Drinking. Hooking up with strangers. Ron and Hermione were so happy together and I felt like they couldn’t understand the pain I felt. Ginny was the one who really stuck with me. I think that’s why we’re so close now.” 

“I’m glad you had her. I wish I could have been there too,” Theo says, looking sad. 

“It’s okay. I have you now don’t I,” Harry attempts to grin at him, it comes out twisted and strained. 

“You do,” Theo looks down at him fondly. They sit there for a second watching the light of the fire track it’s way across each other's skin. 

“Harry,” Theo breaks the silence, voice soft and even, “Do you think there’s a chance that maybe Draco did care? I mean… I didn’t know him then but I knew him before and I think he has a tendency to be afraid of the things he wants.” 

Harry sits up then, peels himself out of Theo’s lap,  and perches back ramrod straight on the couch. There’s tension in every sinew of his body. 

“That’s such a cop out though,” He struggles to keep his voice flat, “ I was scared too but I never would have just fucking left him.” 

“Yeah but did he know that?” Theo asks, “You said you never talked about your feelings right? So maybe he thought you’d move on once he was in France. Maybe he was just trying to spare himself the pain of it all.” 

Harry clenches his fists and tries to keep his face blank. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for him or anything,” Theo continues hurriedly, “It was screwed up that he left you.” 

“So what if he did care?” Harry asks, the words feel strange on his lips. 

“Well,” Theo’s voice is drawn out and contemplative, “Then maybe being back here means something for him too.” 

Harry thinks about that, pictures the tense line of Draco’s shoulders when they’d first seen each other at the DMLE, remembers the way Draco had almost kissed him in the potions lab only to draw back at the last minute with carefully blank eyes. 

“Maybe,” He tells Theo noncommittally, trying to tamper down the quiet flutter in his chest, “I can’t do anything about it though.” 

“You could talk to him.” Theo suggests, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

“Ugh, why would I do that?” The whole idea sounds terrible. Harry would rather get the stomach flu than talk about his feelings with Draco Malfoy. 

“Because he still means something to you,” Theo rushes before pausing and then continuing in a more tentative tone. “He drives you up the wall mate, it has to mean something. When has anyone else ever gotten under your skin like that?”

Theo’s got a point. Harry can’t remember a time that Draco hadn’t been there in the back of his subconscious, a flash of gray eyes, a blur of blonde hair. He’d died and been reborn, been saved by Narcissa only to spend his whole way back to the castle picturing the contours of Draco’s face and wondering what he would have looked like if he’d been born with his mothers eyes. 

“You’re right.” Harry sighs, “But it's more complicated to talk to him than you think… We might have, um. Okay we kind of hooked up that first day he was back. And, um” He finishes in a rush, “I left that time, I walked away in the middle of it. I think it was a one time thing.” 

“A one time thing that was about to happen a second time, if I hadn’t walked in on you,” Theo corrects him with his eyebrow raised. 

Circe, Harry can’t believe he’d forgotten. He thinks about the soft brush of Draco’s fingertips on his warm skin and shivers a little. 

“Okay, maybe not a one time thing,” he dips his head looking sheepish, “But I don’t think it really meant anything.”

“So you wouldn’t do it again?” Theo looks skeptical. 

“Um, I mean… I might?” Harry stumbles over his words, “But again, it wouldn’t mean anything.” 

“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t care if he took someone else home? If he started dating them?” 

Fuck, Draco’s lips parted, his irises blown wide. His strong smooth hands spread across someone else’s body. Harry’s stomach flips over, it takes conscious effort to will down the rising nausea. 

“I think…,” his voice comes out rough, he coughs a little before continuing, “I think I do care, you’re right.” He leans forward scrubbing a hand over his forehead, “Merlin, Theo what am I going to do?” 

“Probably talk to him.” Theo says bluntly, lips quirked up in a wry smirk. 

“God you really should have stuck with your psychology studies.” Harry tells him, “How am I supposed to talk to him? It’s like anytime I try to say anything to him I can’t force the words out of my mouth.” 

“I think you just need to force yourself to start talking. Once you get a couple words into the conversation it should get easier.” 

“Ugh, what if I just don’t tell him?” Harry whines, wriggling in closer to Theo’s side. 

“Then you don’t tell him and you don’t find out how he feels and whatever this is, continues.” Theo says, shifting until he can swing his arm over Harry’s shoulder. “It’s up to you mate. You have to decide if Draco is worth having the conversation.” 

Harry leans into Theo’s warm embrace. He thinks about Draco’s gray eyes, they way they narrow when he wants something and flicker to light when he laughs. He thinks about Draco’s long limbs, his casual saunter. He thinks about the afternoon in the potion’s lab with Draco leaning back beside him. He thinks he always knew it would come to this, his heart full and ready, waiting to spill into pale broad palms. 

“Okay,” He signs, leaning boneless into Theo’s side. “I’ll talk to him, but give me some time.” 

“Oh Harry,” Theo says fondly, sounding almost like a mother. “There’s no rush at all. And, don’t worry if he turns you down I’ll get you a nice treat.” 

Groaning Harry shoves at his shoulder, “Way to inspire confidence in me Theo.” 

“What?!,” Theo crys, indignant.“I’m trying to make sure there’s positives either way!”

“You are insufferable.” Harry tells him leaning into his chest even further. 

“Well you’re stuck with me so you’ll just have to suffer.” Theo says cheerfully, taking his hint and pulling Harry into a long hug. 

“Hey. Where’s Ginny?” Harry exclaims, suddenly pulling out of Theo’s arms. 

“Oh,” Theo says, a glint in his eyes, “I think she went home with Blaise.” He glances over at Harry and immediately breaks down into a peal of laughter, “Mate! You look like your eyes are going to pop out of your head!” 

Harry laughs then too and burrows into Theo’s side. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry avoids talking to Draco for a whole week. 

He watches as Draco walks through the DMLE lobby every morning and feels like his heart is going to rabbit out of his chest. Everytime he thinks about visiting Draco’s office or tracking him down in his laboratory his palms start to sweat and the back of his neck feels uncomfortably itchy. 

On Thursday Ginny attempts to force an interaction by making Harry get a potion ID’d but he has a panic attack instead and she finds him in the loo hands on his knees gasping over the toilet bowl. 

“Oh Harry,” She tells him, her eyes filled with worry, “I really thought this would help things. You know, help you get it over with.” 

He just shakes his head at her and continues to struggle through shallow breaths. 

Ginny stands there with him until he gets himself under control and convinces him to ditch work with her for the rest of the day to get ice cream. The ice cream, and the break from thinking about the inevitable doom of talking to Draco Malfoy, cheers Harry up immensely. 

On Friday he focuses on blocking out all thoughts of Draco. He figures the conversation will happen if it’s meant to and he doesn't need to push it. 

But then the weekend comes, and he spends both days thinking about Draco wrapped around other men, pressed together in bed or in bathroom stalls, open mouths and pants shoved down. It makes him feel breathless like there’s not enough space behind his ribs for his lungs. He commits to talking to Draco at work on Monday. He tells Ginny if he doesn’t do it he will let her dye his hair in punishment. She is ecstatic. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the end of the day before Harry finally convinces himself to knock on the door of Draco’s office. His hands are sweating and his heart is pounding out of his chest. The sound of his fist against the wood door sounds hollow and comes to quite an anti-climactic conclusion when Harry gets no response. 

He waits a minute and then knocks again. 

Still no answer. 

Harry wants to hit something, preferably his own head against a wall, for being stupid enough to harbor feelings for Draco Malfoy.

 He turns on his heels to return home and wallow in his own misery, only to freeze stock still in the hallway. Shit, he can’t go home because Ginny is waiting for him with a manic grin and a vat full of fluorescent hair dye. Tensing his shoulders he moves back to Draco’s door. Swallowing hard, he gives it a tentative push and holds his breath as it slowly creaks open. 

“Dracooo” He calls cheerfully, before quickly falling silent. Because what? Draco’s office hadn’t looked like this last time he’d visited. 

Harry’s hands start to shake as he looks around the room. The desk is overturned, the lamp shattered against the hardwood. Books have been ripped off of the bookshelf and scattered haphazardly across the floor and ripped slivers of parchment rain like confetti. He swallows down the dryness in his throat and makes a conscious effort to breathe through his nose, just like the sodding meditation practice Hermione has thrust on him against his will. 

Before he’s even thought about it he’s leaving the room at a flat out run and banging his way through the door of Kingsleys office. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure Mr. Potter?” Kingsley asks him in a wry voice, looking like he’d rather be talking to literally anyone else. 

“Um. Uh. Someone’s ripped apart Draco’s office. I think he’s missing. Maybe he’s been kidnapped. We have to do something.” He spits out in a garbled mess. 

“Oh,” Kingsley looks unperturbed, “That. It’s fine Harry. We’ve got it under control.”  

“What?! The office didn’t look in control. In fact, it looked the opposite of control. It looked like a complete mess,” Harry spits at him, crossing the room in two long strides and pulling his wand from it’s holster.

“It’s fine Harry,” Kingley says sounding exasperated and perhaps a little fond. “I know where Draco is. I know what happened. Take some deep breaths. It’s okay.” 

“It is not okay and I don’t believe you.” Harry retorts. He moves up to the edge of Kingsleys desk where he towers over him and stares at him harshly, narrowing his eyes into green slits. “You better explain yourself right now.” 

Kingsley sighs looking resigned and motions for Harry to sit down. Harry ignores him. 

“Okay look Harry. I don’t like to spread people's personal business around but I don’t think keeping this information secret is worth getting hexed over so if you’ll shut the door I’ll explain.” 

Harry twitches a finger and uses a burst of wandless magic to slam the door closed. The sound of the wood banging shut echos in the silent room. Kingsley winces and rubs his temples.  

“Can you at least sit down?” Kingsley asks, looking exhausted. 

“Fine,” Harry concedes, sitting down with his back ramrod straight into the bright purple armchair next to Kingsleys desk. 

“Well,” Kingsley tells him, sighing, “Once again this stays between you and me, but Narcissa was admitted to St. Mungos today. Draco didn’t take it very well when I told him. He was the one who destroyed his own office. So, it’s all fine, he's okay.” 

“Okay?” Harry practically screeches, “Obviously he’s not okay if he had a magic flare strong enough to destroy his whole office.” 

“He didn’t have a magical flare,” Kingsley explains to him slowly. His brow is creased and he looks fed up. “He destroyed it piece by piece while holding his wand. He displayed an excellent amount of control actually.” 

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay?!” Harry bursts out again. He wants to reach out and shake Kingsley. How could he be so unworried?

“Harry,” Kingsley is talking slowly like he’s working with a kindergartener, “I have Aurors come back from missions maimed and dead all the time. A sick mother? A small tantrum? Those things are barely a blip on my radar.” 

It certainly doesn’t feel that way to Harry. Draco’s hurt feels huge and significant and Harry thinks he would move heaven and earth just to ease it. 

“You can go comfort him if you want,” Kingsley offers calmly, his lips twisted in an expression of amusement. It makes Harry want to hit something. 

“Yes,” He says without hesitation, “Yes. I’ll do that. Since you can’t be bothered too. Even though it’s your literal job to keep Aurors healthy and safe.” 

Kingsley doesn’t even flinch, “Great Harry, you do that.” 

Harry pushes his chair back and rises from his seat, “Alright, well where is he?”

“He might be in his potions lab,” Kingley says kindly, “Or his house. I’d check both.” 

“Oh good. Don’t tell me you don’t even know where he is.” 

“Harry,” Harry suspects Kingsley's tone is meant to be soothing, “I told you. Blip on my radar. He’s going to be okay. You’ll find him.” 

Harry doesn’t even dignify him with a response. He shoves his way out of the office, jaw clenched and heart beating fast. He’ll find Draco. He has too. 

~~~~~~~~~

Harry tries the potions lab first. It’s a gentle mess as usual. There’s a couple of cauldrons strewn across the gray countertops and he notices several potion vials capped off and waiting for inspection. Harry doesn’t think that Draco’s there until he reaches over and flicks on the lights illuminating him curled in a chair in the corner of the room. 

Harry waits for a fight. For a hex to be thrown. Anything. 

Nothing comes. 

“Draco?” He calls hesitantly as he moves slowly towards the corner. 

“Harry, I-” and then suddenly in the next breath Draco is sobbing. Great heaving sobs that wrack his entire body. The scary part is they’re nearly silent besides his ragged breathing as if he can’t bear to let them out. 

Harry finishes crossing the room faster than he thought humanly possible. Before he knows it, he’s kneeling at Draco’s feet and Draco is reaching out for him, clutching at his shoulders and pulling him in. 

“I’m here,” Harry whispers in a rush. 

“Okay, I, okay.” Draco responds, his voice breaking. 

Harry barely dares to move lest it make Draco stop touching him. He raises his hands slowly up to Draco’s waist and rests them gently on his hips, his chest between Draco’s thighs. 

“It’s okay,” He repeats himself. “Take some deep breaths. You don’t have to tell me anything just now.” 

Harry’s entire chest feels like it will cave in. Draco. Draco who pushes him away, is holding him like his life depends on it. Harry leans into his body heat and focuses on modeling long deep breaths. Eventually Draco calms enough to mirror him and they breathe in unison. 

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” Harry says, when he thinks Draco’s finally calmed down enough to speak. 

Draco pulls away from him enough to raise his head. He looks beautiful even like this, with his gray eyes red rimmed and desperate. Harry presses his fingertips to Draco’s pale cheeks wiping the wetness away. 

“Fuck,” Draco exhales, “Sorry.” He falls silent again. 

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s important not to bottle everything up.” 

“Merlin” Draco whispers, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. “I just can’t stand it. She wasn’t even a good mother. It’s not fair that I feel like this.” His breath stutters into another small sob. 

“Narcissa was selfish,” Harry tells him softly. “But, you’re allowed to think that and love her all at the same time.” 

“It just hurts so much,” Draco confesses, his warm breath tickling Harry’s ear. “It shouldn’t hurt this much. Circe, she spent my whole childhood making me hurt. It should be over by now.” 

“I know,” Harry breathes. He reaches up cradling Draco’s shoulders and stroking softly across his golden locks. Draco relaxes into the touch. 

“Sometimes I wish she was already dead,” Draco’s voice is quiet. His eyes are squeezed shut. 

“That’s okay,” Harry tells him gently. “She put you in unfair positions. She never protected you. She didn’t keep you safe. It’s okay to feel that way.” 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” Draco snaps, pulling away from Harry and sitting stiff backed in his chair. With a twitch of his wand he levitates a glass vial and hurles it across the room. Harry watches as it hits the heavy wood door with a crash and collapses into silver shrapnel. 

“Well,” Harry says wryly. “That’s one way to deal with your emotions.”  

Draco makes a choked noise in his throat and Harry turns his gaze back on him expecting more tears. He’s surprised to see a small smile etching it’s way across Draco’s cheeks. 

“Criticizing my coping mechanisms is not a good way to comfort me, Potter,” He says, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

“Well pardon me if I took issue with you destroying half the Ministry,” Harry says pointedly, his chest full of relief. 

“I was having an emotional crisis.” Draco corrects him. He looks pale and worn out, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You weren’t even having an emotional crisis when you burnt down the potions labs. At least I have an excuse.” 

“Okayyy, whatever.” Harry retorts, pushing himself to his feet. 

He stands in silence. Draco collapses into the back of his chair with a forlorn expression on his face. 

‘So, are you going to go see her?” Harry asks him carefully. 

“No.” Draco replies. Harry watches the muscles in his jaw clench and then slacken. “I can’t see her right now. Maybe in a day or so-” His eyes flick closed for a second, in a tired blink - “but not now.” 

“Alright, come on then,” Harry says, offering Draco his hand to pull him from the chair. 

“To where?” Draco asks. For once, he doesn’t sound stubborn or angry. Just tired. So very, very tired. 

“To my house,” Harry tells him simply. “I’d have to be crazy to leave you alone like this. Who knows, you might decide you fancy destroying Kingsleys office next and then we’d all get sacked.”

A slow smile creeps it’s way across Draco’s face. “Well when you put it like that…” 

“Exactly,” Harry says, trying to hide the smug look on his face. “You can’t risk being responsible for the end of my career. Come on now.” 

Draco reaches for his arm tentatively and Harry just barely suppresses a full body shiver as hand makes contact with bicep. Then, before either of them can talk themselves out of it he spins on his heel and apperates them out of the lab into his living room. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you could apperate out of the DMLE,” Draco whines at him looking betrayed as he straightens his robes. 

“Only after five o’clock,” Harry tells him smugly. “I’m surprised no one told you.”

 He turns away from Draco for a second, glancing surreptitiously around the flat for Ginny’s bright hair or Theo’s ruffled curls, both of their bedroom doors are firmly shut. He breathes a small sigh of relief. 

“Interesting decorations,” Draco says slowly, glancing around the room apprehensively. 

Harry looks around the room, taking in Ginny’s quidditch posters and Theo’s photography experiments with fresh eyes, “Yeah, it’s kind of a mix of things. Ginny and Theo are in charge of the decor. Don’t ask me.”

“So Ginny and Theo also picked out a lifesize cardboard cutout of you to place in the middle of the living room?” Draco asks wryly, stepping forward to investigate the figure. 

Shit, Harry had forgotten about that. 

“Yeah, they think it’s hilarious.” Harry tells him. He focuses on the wall in front of him and tries not to blush. 

“It is a bit.”

Draco smiles and sits down, perching on the edge of the couch. 

~~~~~~~~~

They order pizza for dinner and eat it on the couch. Draco jokes with him but his cheeks remain pale and his smile is small and tense everytime it spreads across his face. Harry wishes he could wrap him in his arms and never let go, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed as much as a brush of his hand across Draco’s leg, so he fixes himself firmly to his side of the couch. 

When they finish eating Draco mumbles about needing to finish some potions work and pulls several thick packets of paper out of the small pocket of his coat. 

“Do you have an extension charm on that?” Harry asks him, eyes wide. 

“Obviously,” Draco drawls in a way that reminds him of Snape. He levitates the papers into the air with a flick of his wand and pulls a quill from his other pocket with a flourish. 

Draco’s eyes are narrowed and Harry finds himself cataloging the sprinkles of darker color in his light gray eyes. 

“So, do you have anything to do?” Draco asks him, whipping his head up from his papers and looking Harry pointedly in the eye. 

Harry flushes a deep beetroot, “Oh um, yes. Now that you mention it I think I do.” He scrambles for the case notes he’d left on the bookshelf yesterday only to drop them. The papers scatter like snow. 

“Merlin,” He groans. 

“Well,” Draco says long and drawn out, “That does look like a lot to do. Especially since you have to do a bit of cleanup now.” 

When Harry looks over his shoulder to glare at him he’s biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep from breaking into laughter. Harry wants to shove him. Harry wants to kiss him so hard he forgets his own name. Harry blinks slowly and focuses back on the papers before him. He gathers them slowly and pretends he doesn’t feel Draco’s gaze tracking him as he moves across the floor. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry spends the next hour carefully focused on the parchment in front of him. He focuses on the scratch of his pen over the parchment, the rough edge of the paper against his fingertips, the couch steady and solid under his body. He refuses to look at Draco. He can go an hour without looking at Draco. It shouldn’t be hard. 

It’s excruciating. 

Eventually, Harry gives up and lets his gaze skitter across to where Draco is sitting. He freezes for a second, his breath caught in his throat. 

Draco’s asleep. He’s tucked up against the side of the coach, his papers still hovering in the air around him. He’s curled into himself with his limbs bent awkwardly, quiet snuffling breaths escaping him. The flames of the fireplace leave his features in shadow, as he dreams, his lashes flicker against his cheek. 

When Draco had sauntered into the DMLE Harry had pictured it would end in angry words and an ache in his chest. He’d never thought it could lead to this, Draco wrung out and seeking comfort on the left side of his couch. 

Maybe Theo was right. Maybe Draco had cared more than he’d let on. 

Harry thinks about love, the way it arrives when you least expect it and leaves exactly when it must. Sometimes love stays; Ginny, her small hands clasped around his shoulders as he gasps for breath in the Ministry toilets.  Sometimes love can’t; Sirius, eyes dark, body vanishing behind the veil. Sometimes love shouldn't; Draco, young, afraid, slipping out through the crack of Harry’s door towards a fresh start at life. 

Harry watches as Draco twitches in his sleep and realizes he no longer feels a painful twist in his stomach when he thinks about the way Draco left. They’d never talked about their feelings. Harry had thought showing them with a gentle caress of a cheek, a wink across a crowded classroom, would be enough. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Draco never knew. But, maybe he did. Maybe he left anyway. 

That doesn’t change the fact that Draco’s here now. 

Harry takes a deep breath and promises himself that he’ll talk to Draco. He shifts closer to him and quietly calls his name. 

Draco snorts and rolls onto his side, and then Harry has some problems speaking because the firelight catches on Draco’s hair like a halo, and Harry isn’t prepared for the double whammy of hot and disarming all at the same time. He gulps in an attempt to clear his throat and by the time he gets himself under control Draco is blinking at him slowly and stretching his legs out catlike in front of him. 

hush, yeah? (m) | kth | masterlist

series: hush, yeah? (m) pairing: taehyung x reader(f) genre: brother’s best friend au, music festival au ; smut summary: who knew an innocent accident could turn things so dirty.. warnings: multiple smut scenes, tension, taehyung is an asshole, big dick tae wbk, slight angst later, but this really is just smut and tae being a tease lol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

taglist (18+ only):  ⇥ anonymous form, no emails collected  ⇥ optional teaser with every upcoming update  ⇥ HERE  feedback box:  ⇥ anonymous form, no emails collected ⇥ any feedback you’d like to give/say/yell!  ⇥ HERE 

other links: masterlist 

SCENARIOS WITH UNDERTONES OF TENSION

1) one muse quietly sits beside the other while they cry so they won’t be alone and to make sure no one bothers them.

2) one muse rests their hands on the other’s shoulders from behind,  intending to soothe them and intimidate an unwelcome third party. 

3)  one muse pulls the other into an alley or small space to avoid a third party,  their faces a little too close together. 

4) for our muses to get in an argument but after one muse steps closer while making a point,  they get distracted by how near they are.  bonus points for eyes wandering to the other’s lips. 

5) for one muse to firmly grab a hold of the other while arguing,  the touch slowly growing gentler as they recognize how strong their emotions are for them. 

6) one muse discovers the other has placed themselves in a dangerous,  under cover situation and steps in to help but gives them a severe look when no one is watching to indicate their disapproval. 

7) one muse is in a precarious situation and thinks the rival muse is going to expose or betray them,  but instead they help. 

8) one muse can tell the other is hiding something and grabs a hold of their shoulders to keep them still and make them admit it. 

9) one muse gives the other a brief casual touch,  unintentionally stirring up emotions in the other who swears the warmth lingers on their skin. 

10) one muse is in danger and the other takes hold of their hand to lead them to safety. 

11) one muse is trying to intimidate the other in an attempt to push them away,  but they step closer instead and refuse to let it affect them. bonus points for answering gruffness with gentleness. 

12) a rival or antagonistic muse requires help and coerces the other into giving it to them,  but it leads to them protecting the other muse with a little too much care. 

13) rival or antagonistic muse gets hurt defending the other,  who then forces them to let them treat the injury. 

14) one muse figure out the other is hiding something from them and thinks it’s a betrayal,  only to confront them and realize the other was protecting them  (  possibly at great cost or sacrifice  ). 

15) a muse who is a rival or claims dislike of the other gets angry on their behalf and does something to get revenge for or protect them. 

16) one muse tries to pick a fight with the other because they’re upset,  but they refuse to participate and hug them until they stop struggling. 

17) one muse has been holding a grudge only to discover the other has been secretly doing something to help them. 

18) one muse broke the other’s trust and gets hurt doing something rash to try and win it back. 

19) one muse gets hurt trying to help the other which leads to an argument,  resulting in the one who was being protected to proclaim how much they care about the injured party. 

20) one muse gets hurt trying to help the other which leads to an argument,  resulting in the one injured to proclaim how much they care about the one they were protecting. 

21) antagonistic muse sets out to kill the other,  however the target is too accepting of their fate which makes the antagonist hesitant and curious. 

22) one muse briefly touches the other but when they start to withdraw,  the other places a hand over theirs to keep it in place. 

23) one muse hugs a gruffer or rival muse and refuses to let go until they hug back. 

24) an antagonistic or rival muse is given an act of kindness which baffles them and leads them to stare at the one who gave it with a puzzled expression. 

25) a rival or antagonistic muse ends up being the unlikely person to be there when the other finally breaks down over something they have been suppressing for the sake of their loved ones. 

The first time Bucky and Tony saw each other, it was hate at first sight. There was no other explanation for the way their hearts beat quicker, the way their breath grew shorter, the way it felt like they had been hit by lightning.

(It certainly wasn't attraction, couldn't be. It wasn't a desire to experience what those lips tasted like, how those strong hands would feel, the heights they could take each other to. No way.)

Since then, their rivalry had become legendary at the Marvel Bakery. They both tried to outdo the other with gorgeous creations. It had to be bigger, better, fancier.

(And it was rivalry. It wasn't a scream for the other to notice me, smile at me, care about me.)

There were bets among their colleagues, though they weren't aware of those. They were too busy competing, fighting, arguing. In the end, it happened during one of their frequent disagreements. They were yelling, heartbeat quickening, eyes flaring with spite (not with passion, of course not), getting closer, closer, closer.

And then they were kissing and they couldn't get close enough to one another.

Their colleagues hadn't been expecting to want to go back to when they thought they hated one another. Working in a bakery involved plenty of sugar, but they were all certain it was Bucky and Tony who would be giving them cavities in the end.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The fancy cake pictures on the bottom left and top right are from Laurie Clarke Cakes. All other non-character pictures are from Pixabay.

A fill for SFW Sunday: Baking Rivalry for @winterironmonth, as well as a fill for the @tonystarkbingo:

Card Number: 3022 Square R1: Tension Pairing: WinterIron Rating: General Audiences

It's once again that point where my brain almost explodes because of all [the] unwritten words, [the] unpainted canvas. My heart violently wincing in its lucid dreams, still unable to wake yet. My lungs in search for a knife to tear themselves open. On the sharpest edge, you let yourself but still cannot fall. Like a puppet on a string spinning shapelessly, singing silently..

..waiting, for a push.

Need the creativity to go berserk and just pour it all out. I know it might be dangerous but what kind of Art is it without that?

And yet, despite all that rave inside me, here I am, only melting in my love for cats and squirrels; that's as dangerous as it gets at the moment...

Emily Yvonne

01. the linchpin | reliability • kth

index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 1.900 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: a predictable mistake in buying shares becomes the perfect opportunity for taehyung to show everybody in the company no one is above his rules. what he didn’t know was that his plan would backfire making him question what the real meaning of trust is

A/N: this story began as a drabble bc i love dramatic scenes, whether in movies, television or books. confrontation is always one of my favorite things about them so i decided to try to write one for the first time ever. clearly i still have a lot to learn but i hope you like it!

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Another meeting, another group of incompetent people that I can't believe I hired. Sitting at the end of a long wood table, I scrolled through my phone reading a few emails while all the shareholders took their positions. It was absurd that I had to call a meeting on Friday night because of a predictable and, quite frankly, stupid mistake but here we were.

“Mr. Kim, we're ready” my secretary said discreetly as she handed me a folder filled with documents.

“Thank you” I replied as I got up from the chair and started spreading the papers on the table in front of me.

“Good evening! First, I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. The reason for this emergency meeting is to talk about the purchase of a few Min Industries shares” I paused and gazed into the eyes of everyone present. Some of them were curious, tired, others frightened and one in particular very angry.

“I believe all of you realized that ever since it happened our company has started to fall into devaluation, thanks to someone’s stupid and hasty decision” I continued while looking at the documents before me. “I don't want an explanation about what happened or why it happened, just how we are going to solve it” I turned and faced my main suspect, “Today”

“Mr. Kim, if I may, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that there is nothing legally wrong with the purchase” said Lee Sung, one of our oldest and most efficient lawyers. Still, it was a matter of principle for me and everyone knew that.

“I understand, Mr. Lee, but this is not what I'm worried about” I began calmly walking around the table while elaborating my thoughts, “You see... although Min Industries doesn’t compete directly with us they have affiliates who do. Therefore…”

“Therefore it’s smart to buy the shares precisely because it gives us more control over the affiliates” said Y/N, interrupting me.

I couldn't help the smirking that escaped my lips. Y/N took the bait and it was all I needed. From the beginning, I knew she was the one leading the expansion project and everything was going well until she put my credibility with Min Yoon Gi in check.

Yoon Gi and I are old friends, practically brothers, but our families have a particular rivalry that has lasted for almost 50 years. It is nothing that explicit or dramatic. An outsider wouldn't see the animosity, for example. I see it as a truce, however, it's still a delicate matter for our parents and grandparents. When we both took over the businesses, we agreed that we would not repeat their mistakes and promised to interfere as little as possible in each other's company. If it was strictly necessary, we would have to talk before any steps were taken. That was the deal and that is why I was furious at Y/N's audacity to make a decision like this one. She was aware of our family's situation even if not exactly about what I had promised my friend.

“Are you serious, miss Y/LN?”

“Why would I be kidding?” she replied looking confused, twisting the pen between her fingers like she was bored.

“I have no idea, but to call that a smart decision, one that immediately impacts my company's profit, not to mention my personal reputation, seems like a joke. And a bad one to say the least” I said, staring at her intensely as I approached her chair.

The atmosphere got heavy and I couldn't care less. I was right and everyone knew it. Y/N took a risk, as she is paid to do, but the risk was not worth it and she needed to take responsibility for it. If it was anyone else I would have already fired without even calling a meeting. Luckily, she's a key part of the company and one of the shareholders as well so I decided to scold her in front of others to send a subtle warning that nothing goes unnoticed by me and that measures will always be taken, regardless of the level of the hierarchy. This is my way to send a warning because I don't do threats.

Y/N gulped and shifted in her chair, visibly uncomfortable with my proximity.

“So I'm going to ask you again, miss Y/N: are you serious?” I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side, watching her try very hard not to lose her composure. I had known Y/N for a long time and she always managed to be as cold as me, yet on occasions where her professionalism was questioned her replies used to be impulsive.

“Mr. Kim, I'll be frank” she started, standing up and walking towards the pulpit next to the projection screen. “It was indeed a risk on my part to put Vante Enterprises ahead of such a high-profile acquisition and, for the embarrassment caused, I sincerely apologize”

“Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?” I asked, sitting on the chair that she left vacant.

“But"

“See?” I turned to Seo Nu sitting on my left. He laughed politely because I laughed first. Deep down he didn't think it was funny and just wanted to suck up to me. Clever.

“But I still believe that in the long run, we’ll reap great results… excellent results, in fact! Here's a chart” Y/N pointed at the screen in front of us and began to confidently defend her decision, clearly and calmly, completely different from the Y/N of a minute ago who I thought would lose her temper.

* * * * * * *

The meeting room broke out in applause as soon as Y/N finished presenting a chain of detailed information regarding the shares, and although I was surprised by the level of research she prepared, I was unable to hide my dissatisfaction as CEO by confirming that Y/N still didn't understand the problem.

“Could you guys excuse us?” I looked at Y/N and then at the other shareholders. Since the person responsible presented herself there was no need to keep putting on a show, right? I got up, buttoned my jacket, and returned to my original spot on the table to organize the papers I had left lying there.

While arranging them all in a pile, the room emptied and Y/N approached.

“You love to exaggerate things, don't you?” she snarled looking me up and down.

“You love to ignore the rules and interfere with what doesn't concern you, don't you?” I fired back mimicking her attitude.

Y/N stopped for a moment and studied my expression. For a split second, I could feel a question in the air as if she wanted to know if that's what I actually thought of her — a nosy and unprofessional person who ignored her superiors on purpose. I didn’t. She looked hurt. Still, her voice gave no indication that my response had affected her.

“I love my work! It's great and you pay me well” she said, taking the papers from my hand. “Oh, what do we have here?”

“Don't be childish, give me the papers Y/N” I motioned my hands and closed my eyes feeling exhausted.

“What are these projections? How come I have never seen them before?” Y/N's voice came out louder than before depicting a mixture of shock and disbelief. “There is no actual proof that these companies are connected, it doesn't make sense” she walked back to the pulpit, eyes glued to the documents to compare the numbers and references with the slides she had spent hours preparing.

“Y/N give me the papers, that information is above you” I demanded in a firm tone. “Besides, my intention with today's meeting was to get you to find a solution to your own mess but even that you weren't able to”

“How can I solve it if I don't have all the information, Tae Hyung?” Y/N lowered the papers she was gripping so tightly in front of her face and I could see red, teary eyes along with the angry tone in her voice. She hadn't called me Tae Hyung since college and that felt like a blow in my stomach.

“If I had known that the companies were connected I would have thought twice before buying the shares... I…” Y/N's voice failed but she cleared her throat and continued “...this is your fault!”

“Mine?” I asked dumbfounded.

“You left me in the dark and I made an important decision without having all the information” she pushed the papers onto my chest and started pulling the projector's wires angrily, “This is not what I call trust”

“Seriously? Are we going to talk about trust? Bit ironic, don’t you think?” I started chasing her around the room while she collected her belongings and threw them into a big purse.

Y/N snorted like what I just said was absurd.

“You know very well the situation between my family and Yoon Gi's. I always made it clear that we don't do business with them and yet you went there and did it” I placed my hand on top of her purse, preventing her from continuing what she was doing. “Where is my trust in you now?” I questioned her almost in a pleading tone.

Y/N pulled the purse off the table in one swift motion and I almost lost my balance.

“You know what? You're right. I was wrong” she said, looking defeated. “I shouldn't have shown interest in shares that involved Yoon Gi's company, but you definitely shouldn't have hidden these documents from me either” she continued taking a few steps back, slowly moving away from me. “And that's where you fucked up. You're still obsessed with secrets and rules, keeping everyone who tries to help you away"

“Wait a minute” I interjected. This was unfair, it was not like that.

“I'm not done talking” she gazed at me very seriously and I had no choice but to stop and listen. “I know that we have differing opinions on many things and I have teased you too much in the past 10 years with my analysis and requirements, but I never... I say never... would do anything that would harm the company”

“I know” I whispered, feeling kind of dumb for blurting it all out like that.

“It doesn't look like it” she placed the purse on her shoulder. “For me, you're trying to find a reason to get me out of here”

My jaw dropped in shock. Y/N had no idea how much I valued her work, and at this very moment, I didn't know what to say first. An apology? An explanation? A plea? I could have said anything, but I didn't. Not even a fucking sound. My mouth remained open as my thoughts flew through my mind at a frightening speed, making it look like I was confirming her impression.

“I’m gonna save you the trouble. I quit”

Y/N gave me what looked like a small bow or maybe a quick nod as if to excuse herself and then left the room without another word, leaving me leaning against the table without understanding what had just happened, finding myself, for the first time in a long time, completely alone.

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

02. family matters | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 2.155 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: none au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: let’s go back a few years to see how tae and Y/N’s relationship started and also get a glimpse into the kim family

A/N: it was important for me to start the series with a flasback so that the reader would be familiar with the kim family dynamics and the tension with Y/N right off the bat

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10 years before

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“There has to be someone else” I said, staring at the Seoul skyline in front of me as I pondered all the possibilities with hands in my pockets. I'm taking over the family business and the only thing that scares me is making a mistake when hiring people. Well, my dad scares me, and getting a complaint call from him questioning how I managed to ruin Vante Enterprises in less than 6 months of his long-awaited retirement is not in my plans.

“Why?” asked the woman sitting on the large and comfortable couch behind me. Her thin face and dark hair complemented her porcelain skin very well and she was, at all times, the most beautiful person in any room.

“She’s inadequate” I replied, making her roll her eyes.

“Nonsense, Tae Hyung. Y/N graduated at the top of her class, in front of you much less, and did an MBA abroad” the woman said nonchalantly while taking a sip of her tea.

“I meant in regards to the company's culture” I sat down next to her, leaning sideways on the back of the couch and resting my head on my hand.

“Oh right” she set the cup down on the coffee table, “I forgot that you Kims only hire who you can control”

“Mom!”

“Honey, this is your opportunity to differentiate yourself from your father” she continued, “Having someone you know in a position like this is important in the long run”

At least in one thing my mom and I could agree on: I would, without a doubt, run the company in a new way. I had already started by choosing people who were suitable for the positions and not because I knew them or my family had some kind of connection with theirs. If, by chance, these two factors intersected, great, otherwise, the best resume wins.

“Known is not the same as reliable” I observed.

Still not satisfied with my answer, my mom got philosophical. “Trust comes with time” she started in a tone as if she wanted to pass for a spiritual being of great wisdom, but I knew she was just trying to be a good mom despite not knowing the exact details of what the family business required.

“I still have six more resumes appointed by someone I know” I leaned over to the coffee table and picked up the papers. “Two of them are former classmates too. How about that?” I waved them back and forth.

“If I remember correctly, neither of them made you stutter for the first time in an academic debate” my mom made a pose like she was thinking, crossing her arms and bringing one hand to her chin. How dramatic... and a liar. I didn't stutter.

“Yup, I think it's time for you to go” I exhaled, slapping my hands on my thighs and standing up. “Thank you very much for coming and giving your input on a subject I did not ask for” I continued in an amusing tone, but low-key serious, taking her by the hand and guiding her towards the door.

“Tae Hyung, you know that Y/N is the right choice” she moved the bag handle over her shoulder. “Be smart” and caressed my face.

“Okay” I sighed, “I love you” and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too” she smirked and left.

I went back to the couch and grabbed the resumes intending to read them one more time to be absolutely sure that I had not missed any relevant information. Very conveniently the first one was Y/N’s.

“She did it on purpose” I thought out loud when I realized my mom had deliberately put it there so I couldn't ignore it. 

Very well then, I started reading Y/N’s resume with legitimate attention, trying to ignore the name and photo at the top. I needed to be objective and impartial, a lot was at stake, but to be completely honest, at first, it was difficult because she has some striking physical features, which most men would find attractive but that was not my case. And even if it was, her personality overshadowed everything else to the point of making me lose any interest. After my common sense settled in, I continued reading, paying close attention to her previous work experiences.

“Hmm, this is interesting” I mumbled to myself.

Unlike the other candidates, Y/N had interned at one of the largest financial institutions in the country during college - something I had no idea, by the way, but not that we were friends back then, of course, because why would she tell me something like that? I really had no way of knowing - and I'm looking for people with experience in acquisitions. Convenient coincidence, I like it.

Moving on, I analyzed two letters of recommendation along with her resume and I must agree that on paper she is the right person. Damn it, I hate it when my mom is right! Still, the matter of company culture is real and I think that a person like her wouldn’t do well here. She is opinionated, impulsive, and hates being told ‘no’. At the same time, she was praised for the exact opposite in the letters, and that made me curious. An interview wouldn't hurt, would it?

I got up, went over to my desk, and pressed the button that put me in direct contact with the secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Eun Ae answered promptly.

“I need to schedule some interviews next week” I said while fiddling through the resumes and selecting three, “I’ll email you the information”

“Yes, sir”

“Ah, Mrs. Gwa?” I almost forgot. It was better to hide my identity, otherwise, they’ll try sucking up to me thinking it would affect my final decision. And by 'they' I mean two of the three people because Y/N most likely wouldn't even accept the invitation if she knew that I was in charge of the company. “When contacting the candidates, I ask you not to divulge that I'll be the one conducting the interview”

“Okay” she wrote down and I could hear the sound of her keyboard. “Anything else?”

“No, that's all. Thank you”

Between today and the day of the interview, I had to prepare myself for the different reactions I might receive. My position as CEO has not yet been announced in the media and only shareholders know that a new person will take over at the end of the year. They suspect it will be my older brother, or rather, they expect it to be him but to the general dismay it will be me.

Ye Jun is a lawyer and has been involved in the family business since he started reading. However, two years ago in the middle of Christmas dinner, he had a breakdown when my uncles pressured him about some specific problem happening inside the company and he totally lost his composure (with a little help from alcohol, of course). He made a scene screaming that he didn't want that life anymore or even see any of those people again. Then he went on about how much he hated their meetings and the way everyone was fake in front of my father and in private would even criticize the color of the tie he wore. From the corner of the living room, I watched the whole thing go down without a hint of shock on my face because I always knew that moment would come. Ye Jun wasn’t born to be a leader.

The next day, he and my father were locked in the office for almost three hours. When the heavy wooden doors finally opened, dad left looking tired and announced without looking me in the eye, “Now it's up to you, Tae Hyung.” Confused by that statement, I went in and saw Ye Jun with his head between his hands, sitting in the armchair by the window.

“What the hell did you say to him?” I pointed my thumb back at the door.

“That I’m not doing it” Ye Jun replied, lifting his head and interlacing his hands. His posture seemed relaxed as if he were finally comfortable, although there was an uncertainty in his eyes that made me wonder if he was having second thoughts about the decision.

“Do what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Ye Jun looked at me and smiled.

“Give in to the pressure, complying with expectations, sacrificing my profession, not being myself”

He paused, standing up and holding me by the shoulders.

“I also told him that the best person for the position is you” Ye Jun's voice was full of affection, “It has to be you, Tae” he patted me on the side and I looked at him stunned.

“Dad will never put me ahead of Vante, Jun” I blurted as soon as I managed to assimilate what my brother had just said.

“Didn't you hear what he said to you as soon as he left?” Ye Jun looked confused for a second “Now it's up to you. You are the next CEO” he said in a firm tone.

I suddenly got embarrassed because it felt like I had just stolen my brother's job. “It doesn't make sense, we have opposite views on how to run a business” I looked away and stared at the floor.

“True, you do, but lately he started to realize that the world is changing and that Vante could be much better off if it started to adapt” Ye Jun stated by squeezing my shoulders and bringing me back to reality. “Of course, there is still a certain traditionalism in our field, but every now and then dad finds himself negotiating with foreign companies where the mindset is what sets them apart and he feels conflicted. Do you continue as you are and please national companies or do you adapt and gain visibility abroad? He wants Vante to remain as the leader in the segment but he is stuck in his own beliefs and he knows it”

After this conversation with my brother, things changed and I started to accept more confidently the responsibility that was placed upon me. However, regardless of how I felt, the criticism would come in full force. Many powerful people will question my father's decision and I wouldn’t be surprised if boycotts took place in the first year.

It was with all these possibilities in mind that my first act as CEO was to completely renew the staff, starting with the most strategic positions and closest to me. One of them was the operations manager, who would act as my right hand, valuing Vante's financial success and setting in motion the vision, strategic plan, and goals I set.

In theory, Y/N was perfect for it, but I wouldn't make it easier just because we knew each other. She was very smart and I was sure that the moment she walked through that door and came face to face with me, her demeanor would change and we would start playing a game of chess.

******

I dedicated the entire day Wednesday for the interviews and the first two had gone very well, exactly as I had planned and prepared — what a relief! It was almost 4:30 pm, Y/N’s appointment was the last one and I was extremely curious about her reaction, I don't know why. Maybe I wanted to prove something to her, like ‘Ha, look who’s running things now’ or ‘I bet you never thought you would see me sitting here'.

Y/N was always better at everything and I couldn't stand it. I had an obligation to excel at something. She was not perfect as everyone liked to think and, frankly, to worship. But, even if it bothered me to admit, we had things in common and she was qualified.

“Yes?” I said coming out of my reverie when the phone rang.

“Ms. Y/LN is here, Mr. Kim” Eun Ae announced.

“Let her in”

I heard a light knock on the door, followed by its closing and a few clicks of high heels on the floor coming towards me. I looked up and Y/N was dressed in a black midi-length v-neck dress with a stand-up collar that made her look formal but not old. Matter of fact, if I was actually paying attention I could even say that this specific fabric was made for her body type and hugged her in all the right places, but I wasn’t.

“Hello, Y/N” I said getting up from my chair, “Long time no see!” I smiled and took off my glasses, placing them in front of me next to the tablet I had been holding moments before.

Y/N shook her head holding a laugh as she bit her lip and stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “You’re so predictable. I’m amused”

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

reliability • kth

pairing: taehyung x reader 

chapters: 10

genre: drama, light angst 

rating: pg-13 | p-15 (final chapter)

warnings: cursing, sensual innuendos (and later on) kissing, implied mental health struggles, brief description of panic attack

au: ceo/office 

trope: enemies to friends to lovers 

tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn 

crosspost: ao3

summary: a predictable mistake in buying shares becomes the perfect opportunity for taehyung to show everybody in the company no one is above his rules. what he didn’t know was that his plan would backfire making him question what the real meaning of trust is

☆ disclaimer: this is a work of fiction taken from the depths of my imagination, which takes place in an alternative universe (AU) and has no real connection with people, places or organizations. everything you will read is fictional and created by me. i do not authorize its reproduction, translation or publication, partially or entirely © mrsparknamjoon

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CHAPTER 01: the linchpin ↳ word count: 1.900 ↳ release date: december 11th, 2020 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 02: family matters ↳ word count: 2.155 ↳ release date: december 20th, 2020 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 03: a little honesty never killed anyone ↳ word count: 1.671 ↳ release date: january 7th, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 04: take it back ↳ word count: 2.750 ↳ release date: january 14th, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 05: once upon a time ↳ word count: 3.184 ↳ release date: january 17th, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 06: too blind to see ↳ word count: 2.258 ↳ release date: february 8th, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 07: a double-edged sword ↳ word count: 4.738 ↳ release date: february 22nd, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 08: hanging by a thread ↳ word count: 2.909 ↳ release date: march 22nd, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 09: careful decision, heartful declaration ↳ word count: 4.197 ↳ release date: march 28th, 2021 ↳ revised in: september 25th, 2021

CHAPTER 10: what do you see? ↳ word count: 5.662 ↳ release date: january 25th, 2022

03. a little honesty never killed anyone | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 1.671 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing, sensual innuendos au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: continuing exactly where we left off in the last chapter, now it's time to check out how Y/N's interview went

A/N: i love writing this series! i really do. i have so much fun coming up the dialogues and even though sometimes is hard to set the scene how i want to, i’m proud of how it came out. hope you like it <3

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10 years before

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“Excuse me?” I blinked twice. Did I get it right? Did she just say what I thought she said? Who answers a polite greeting like that? Doesn't make sense. I said ‘Hello, long time no see’ and she immediately mocks me for it? Where are we? 5th grade?

“You are very predictable” she reiterated more slowly as if she were talking to someone old and deaf. Y/N was definitely fucking with me and I decided to indulge in her little game just to see how far it would actually go.

“Really?” I mocked, coming around the table, walking towards her, and pointing to the couch.

“Come on, did you really think I wouldn't know that you were going to do the interview?” Y/N sat down and stared at me.

“Why would I withhold this information?” I sat next to her and crossed my legs, resting my hands on my lap.

“For many reasons” she said.

Y/N looked so sure of herself. Scratch that, so full of herself. Since college, she has always had this ‘know it all’ attitude and was absurdly irritating. Some might even call it tenacity, but I wasn't so sure because from the tone she used and even her body language, in my opinion, everything screamed: insecurity. That's right, she is insecure. There is no other reason why a person would want to reassert herself all the time by claiming to have every answer in the universe other than trying to prove something.

However, for recreational purposes, I will continue to comply.

“Such as?”

Y/N leaned forward a little, speaking in a lower tone as if she were about to tell me a secret, “The main one?”

“Sure” I imitated her gesture, getting close to her face but not enough that neither of us would be uncomfortable with.

“I wouldn't come” she returned to the previous position, leaving me leaning in the middle of the couch.

“But you did” I raised my eyebrows.

“I said you were the predictable one, not me” Y/N smiled and paused so I could absorb the words, “This is a great opportunity. It would be stupid to refuse for the simple fact that we don't like each other”

“Ouch!" I leaned back with both hands on my chest, receiving the metaphorical shot, “Blunt and straight to the point”

I honestly don't know if this hurts my pride a little bit or if it delights me.

“It's the way I like to do things” Y/N shrugged. “So, shall we start?”

“Who is conducting the interview? Me or you?”

Y/N laughed looking down. I couldn't decipher if she was embarrassed that I called her out or if it was just her way of laughing. The times she technically laughed at me back in college were in a sarcastic tone and now her intention seemed different. Maybe I'm funny, I don't know.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I offered while filling a glass of water with the jar my secretary had brought minutes before.

“No, thank you” she replied, watching me drink.

“We haven't seen each other for a long time. How are you, Y/N?” I asked, putting the glass back on the coffee table and taking my folder with a notepad, her resume, and some other papers.

“Good” she said. For a brief moment, I felt some sort of hesitation as if maybe it was a lie, “I just got back from England, I think you saw the MBA on my resume” Y/N pointed at the folder in my hands.

“Impressive. Congratulations” I replied without taking my eyes off the paper in a neutral and completely impassive tone. If that was her attempt to impress me, it didn't work.

“Now I'm looking for a place where I can practice everything I learned” Y/N continued.

“And you think Vante is that place?” I closed the folder and gave her a confused look.

“It could be” she mused.

“I don't get it. I thought this was a ‘big opportunity’ for you” I argued, placing the folder on the coffee table and crossing my arms. This woman confuses me sometimes. She says one thing but does the complete opposite, then she's utterly mysterious, and other times she goes straight to the point.

“And it is. Vante is one of the largest companies in the country and being able to be part of its history would certainly be a milestone in my career” Y/N looked at me sternly.

“But?” I asked.

“My decision depends on confirming who, in fact, is in control of it” she replied.

Who does Y/N think she is? That's hilarious.

“Decision? There's not even a proposal..." I scoffed.

Y/N paused for a moment relishing my words. She was in control of the conversation and knew it. Unconsciously, me too, but I didn't want to admit it. After a few seconds she simply stated, “Yes, there is, Mr. Kim, because I am the best person for the job”

She wants to play? No problem. I love games.

“Let's say the person in control is me” I conceded.

“Then I would accept”

“Really?”

“You are intelligent, obstinate, and responsible, as well as result-oriented but in a bold way” Y/N replied with complete honesty and, again, bluntly. It was impossible to predict what was going in her head, let alone anticipate any kind of response. In chess, every move has a purpose and I was trying to find out hers.

“Bold?” I disputed with humor this adjective that sounded very strange and did not match me at all.

“Yes, you are not scared to take a risk” she quickly answered as she leaned over to the coffee table and seized a glass of water for herself, “I saw you go against all odds several times, convinced that things would work out” she paused to take a sip before continuing, “and they did” she raised her glass as if she was to make a toast.

Okay, well, perhaps it does match me.

“And here I was thinking you didn't like me” I stated, unable to contain the big smile forming on my face. The ego massage masked some of my embarrassment.

“You and I have more in common than you think” she noted “In my opinion, working alongside someone so similar, yet completely different, is stimulating and only adds to the business. Don't you agree?” she tilted her head with lips pursed in a single line.

Y/N had a good point. Right then I saw an opportunity to take advantage of her initiative because one thing was certain in life: if you wait for somebody else to make a decision for you, they will, and you won't like the result.

“Maybe you’re not the person I remembered” I noted in a tone that I hoped was friendly enough but at the same time didn’t over-implicate my curiosity (which at this point was about to explode) and my desire to win the psychological game of chess (which also increased exponentially by the minutes of this interview).

“Probably. A lot has happened in three years” she crossed her legs and held her knees with her hands clasped.

Damn Y/N. She knew what to say and how to speak to test my limits. What 'things' happened? And was it really time to shift positions? Really? With that dress? Rude.

Lost in my thoughts I ended up being quiet long enough for her to just get up and say, “I'm gonna get going"

“But the interview is not over” I said confused, looking at my watch and then up, finding Y/N's sarcastic smile, the one I was deeply familiar with.

“It is” she replied, reaching down and grabbing her purse from the couch “You already saw that I changed enough to be part of your team but not so much that you will doubt my choices. Like it or not, deep down you trust my character and judgment” she looked me up and down and continued “In fact, I think you had already made your decision before I even walked into your office. You needed to see for yourself that I want this job as much as you want to hire me”

While what Y/N had just said was pretty unbelievable, I expected no less from her. Even though our lives have changed in the last few years, her essence has remained the same and I was happy to have scheduled this interview. She’s still opinionated but in a calmer and more analytical way, just as her letters of recommendation suggested.

“Isn't it tiring having this amount of self-esteem?” I teased.

“Not when you're right” Y/N shrugged.

“Guess some things don't change after all” I grinned, standing up and pointing to the door.

Y/N started walking towards it and even though I couldn't see her face when she replied laughing “I bet this is one of the things you hate about me”, I was sure it was a genuine laugh. Oh yes, I am funny.

“We are not close enough for this to be true” I leaned against the doorframe, “And 'hate' is a very strong word” I shook my head.

“I suppose so” she looked up, pondering my statement for a couple of seconds. “We'll find out in the next few months” Y/N shifted her gaze to me in an intense way before heading towards the office lobby to take the elevator.

Just like in chess, in life, we can't jump to conclusions, and if I were to have Y/N by my side as operations manager, I would have to let go of the impression I have of her. 

Replaying our conversation in my head as I went back into my office and closed the door, I leaned against it for a brief moment not knowing what exactly had changed in our dynamics but feeling for the first time in a long time that I was no longer alone.

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

04. take it back | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 2.750 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: after Y/N’s resignation, taehyung goes after her to apologize

A/N: this chapter was a little difficult to write, for three reasons: i wanted to accurately describe the emotional state of the two characters, even though this story is from tae's pov; leave some clues for future chapters and also narrate a movement in a verbal fight as believably as possible.

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Y/N's sudden resignation left me in complete shock, but something inside told me to stand up and go find her because I couldn't let that happen, she had to stay. She just had to. If I needed to beg, then so be it, but she couldn't leave Vante. Leave me.

In the lobby, practically out of breath, I stand before the elevators noticing that of the four, two are on different floors, one is on the ground floor and the other going up. I pressed all the buttons violently so that one of them would come to me and take me to Y/N, but amid my distress, I realized something:

She uses the stairs when she is angry.

This one time, after a meeting with a possible foreign client, Y/N disappeared. Nobody could tell me where she was or what direction she went. It was as if she had vanished like smoke. Hours later, visibly calmer, she entered her office where I was sitting with my feet up on the table reading some reports that she had left laying around.

“Mr. Kim, please show some manners and get your filthy feet off my table” Y/N demanded with humor but a serious face.

“There you are” I smiled, bringing my legs down.

“Do you need something?” she asked, coming towards me and gesturing for me to get up from her chair.

“Not really” I put down the papers I was reading and stood between her desk and a bookcase. “I just wanted to know if everything was okay and where were you”

“I needed to clear my head” Y/N put on her reading glasses and started organizing the papers I had messed up. 

I just nodded, respecting her space. After a few seconds of silence, I turned to the door to leave.

“When I'm nervous and need to think, I use the stairs instead of the elevator” she blurted out. As soon as I turned my head, I realized that Y/N was biting the inside of her cheek as if she had regretted sharing such information.

“No problem” I assured her with a nod.

It was the only thing I could do. She put up with four intense hours of the potential client questioning every little detail she presented, and yet she was able to keep it together and reply with civility. I recall seeing the physical effort she made to not lose her composure, since closing a contract with him would mean a lot to Vante, and well, the girl liked to win by any means necessary. If it was me, I might have missed the opportunity due to my temper, but that is precisely why I have her around — so she can run things the right way. Hiding out on the stairs for a while didn’t seem like a big deal to me.

“Stairs!” I said to myself, happy to have remembered that little detail just in time.

Running towards the emergency exit, I pushed the crash bar with full force. I started coming down the stairs as fast as possible but still couldn't see Y/N so I decided to lean over the main handrail, looking down into the gap that allowed me to see the other floors.

“Y/N!” I shouted, spotting her arm and purse as she walked through what appeared to be two levels below where I was. She immediately stops and leans to the right, looking up until our eyes meet.

“Please wait” I urged, holding out my hand in a 'stop' sign.

Y/N, however, didn’t give a shit and kept walking, paying me no attention whatsoever. I had no choice but to jump several steps at a time to get there as quickly as possible and stop right next to her.

“Listen to me” I panted, hands on my knees.

Y/N stopped for a moment watching my desperation, rolled her eyes, and started walking again.

“I need to tell you something” I said, taking two steps forward and putting my left hand on the rail, blocking her way.

“Move” Y/N pushed my arm, finishing the steps and walking through the space between flights.

“You are acknowledging my presence, great, it’s a start” I observed while she kept ignoring me. “Please, can you stop for just a second?”

“No”

“Then I’ll keep following you” I disclosed right behind her, arms crossed.

“Good luck, you're going to roll down the stairs” Y/N shrugged.

This was a test of patience. A big one.

“Y/N!” I pulled her by the arm.

“What?” she shouted. “What more do you want?”. Her eyes looked deeply into mine and I could see a clear mix of exhaustion and anguish. “What else do you want to talk to me about? Or should I say humiliate?”

“Take it back” I unintentionally whispered, feeling my throat dry and my heart pounding.

“What?”

“Your decision” I repeated more confidently, “Take it back. Please don't quit”

With that, I let go of her arm but not before my fingertips trace her skin gently on the way down.

Y/N looked at me astonished, “My God, you are fucking unbelievable” and went back down the steps, only now stomping her feet like a child. 

“I'm serious, Y/N, you can't quit, you're very important to the company!”

“Oh really?” she replied sarcastically, “That was not what it looked like five minutes ago. Do you think I'm stupid?” she looked back at me with her brows furrowed.

“No!” I quickly interjected. 

In all honesty, I was starting to get desperate. No words seemed right or good enough for her. I had obviously dug a hole for myself with this idea of scolding her in front of everyone and it was getting deeper by the second. Fuck, I messed up real bad! 

“Total opposite! You are extremely intelligent and competent, and..” I continued before she interrupted.

“Well, you certainly went out of your way to say that I was one for buying the shares” Y/N stopped abruptly and I almost ran into her back.

“Okay, that was stupid, you have to admit” I shrugged, making Y/N even angrier, “but… you’re smart and you did it with good intentions for the company” I added, giving a shy smile.

“Let me see if I got it right,” she crossed her arms and looked up, “you agree that I had good intentions and still decided to call a meeting with the sole purpose of humiliating me in front of everyone?” Y/N's gaze had dropped and now hovered over me making me swallow hard.

“Uh… yeah” I admitted, nodding.

“That’s ridiculous, even for you” she sharply exhaled and laughed at the same time but it contained no humor. “I thought we had a decent enough relationship for you to show me a little more respect” she fumed, pointing her finger at me.

“The mistake was serious, Y/N, there are things about Vante and Min that you don't know about” I pointed right back, taking a step forward and raising my voice a little. 

I was starting to get annoyed at how oblivious she was. Okay, I was an asshole and I didn't deal with the situation in the best way, but still, what she did was wrong. “Like I said, the purchase interferes with the agreement I have with Yoon Gi and I will need to speak to him tonight”

And that's how I got Y/N to finally shut up. She was visibly embarrassed. Now was my chance to explain, since she was forced to pay attention.

“And yes, I wanted to send a message to all shareholders about not respecting my rules. You know that my relationship with them has gotten worse in the last year and they are pressuring me to step down as CEO. I had to do something!” I ran my hands through my hair feeling exasperated.

“There” Y/N pointed her finger at me again, “Right there!”

I think the confusion on my face was evident because she soon explained herself.

“This is the reason why I quitted. You used me like I was the fucking secretary - no offense to Eun Ae - just to prove a point and look powerful in front of those assholes. You didn't have to do that”

“I know,” I agreed, rubbing my eyes, “now I realized that, I'm sorry Y/N”

Still with my eyes closed and taking a deep breath, I hear Y/N usher down the stairs.

“How was I supposed to know you would react like that?” I insisted, “Huh?”

“Uh, I don't know, common sense?” she waved her hands in the air, keeping her eyes forward.

“I thought you would be angry, very angry or that you would curse at me, scream, but not resign” I confessed approaching her, “You love this place”

Y/N stopped at the sound of my last statement taking a beat before turning around. Her back got tense. A couple of seconds after recovering from the shock, she hissed nervously “I don't… love” and looked me in the eye, pausing subtly before complementing “this place"

The way Y/N said that hurt me because I felt that she was simultaneously hiding something and rejecting me. I couldn't help my own shock at those words. We have worked so hard in the last few years, we achieved much more than everyone expected. She and I were the perfect team. How come she didn't like the company? Was she pretending all this time? There was no one else who worked as hard as Y/N. What is going on?

If someone had asked me 24 hours ago if she was happy here, I would have said without a doubt that she was, because everything pointed that way. How she planned out the strategies, how she talked to clients, the bulletproof arguments she used with shareholders, the silent laugh when I made a joke during those long nights where we did overtime, the contained giggles we exchanged when we closed a new deal and so many other quirks that only I knew, that only I saw.

Precisely because I knew so much, I was not ready to let go.

“But I do and I need to protect it. Please don't quit, I want you here” I begged.

Y/N’s eyes showed an inner struggle between believing what I was saying and any other feelings she had for Vante or even for me. Did she hate me? Was working here really that bad? It was so difficult to figure out. I thought I knew her well enough, but apparently, I don’t. I had to make myself clear then.

“I need you here” I said, taking her hand.

She immediately looked down as if our hands were on fire.

“Don't lie” Y/N pulled hers back and stepped away from me, “You don't need me here, we both know it” she said nonchalantly looking to the side as she straightened her clothes — which didn't even have wrinkles, by the way, I don't know who she was trying to deceive here.

“Can you, for once in your life, stop assuming what I feel or don't feel?” I shouted, losing my temper and making Y/N's arch her brows in surprise. “Most of the shareholders are fucking morons. When I started to deny their little perks and demands they ended up doing just the bare minimum"

Y/N pondered about what I said for a few seconds as I sat down at one of the steps, loosening my tie.

“It doesn't make sense... they would be jeopardized. They are shareholders, what happens to the company affects their profits”

“They did it in a subtle way, nothing really big. Just enough to make it stressful for me” I rested my forearms on my knees. “They want me gone, which is why I can’t lose the only person I trust in there” I glanced over Y/N to reassure her that I meant it. I do trust her. More than I trust myself.

“I thought you couldn't trust me anymore because I bought the shares” she argued, focusing on the wall in front of us.

“For God's sake, Y/N, why does everything with you turns into an argument?” I stood up. “Aren't we too old to be doing this?”

“We are and that's why I can't take it anymore” she agreed, also getting up. Her voice sounded defeated and exhausted. When she looked at me and gave me a faint smile before going back down the stairs, I felt that I had lost the fight and despair washed over me.

“You have a lot on your mind, I get it, I fucked up” I took a deep breath, trying to settle myself, “Go home, sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Y/N’s gaze had changed, now she expressed complete disgust.

“Don't follow me” she warned, marching to the emergency exit and leaving me behind once again, only with the roaring noise of the iron door echoing on the cement walls around me.

* * * *

“I need to talk to you” I announced as soon as Yoon Gi answered the phone. “Can you meet me at Timber House in an hour?”

“No 'hello'? Shit must be serious” he fretted.

It was very serious for me. First, I needed my best friend to help me make sense of what happened tonight. Second, I must tell him about the shares as soon as possible so that we can find a way to reverse the deal.

As soon as I ended the call, I exited Dongbu Expressway and headed towards the Park Hyatt Hotel where my favorite bar was. The atmosphere was great, very private. The sushi was amazing and they had three types of Hwayo, which would definitely help me tonight. Yoon Gi introduced me to this place a few years ago and we have been going there ever since.

Once I got there and started descending to the lower level, I couldn't stop thinking about what Y/N said. ‘That's why I can't take it anymore’. I'm sure being an operations manager was stressful, but she never complained before. She seemed satisfied with her position. There must be another reason for her to give up, I just can't figure out what it is. And this is not about me just being a jerk, because she had to put up with many things over the years. I just hope Yoon Gi has some wise words to get me out of this mess.

I went through the big wooden door and turned right in the long hallway that made some turns before ending up in the dark and cozy lounge with several armchairs and tables. I could recognize this smell anywhere and the soft jazz melody playing in the background, mixed with the buzz of people eating and talking, made me feel at home.

Sitting in my usual corner and with my favorite soju in hand, I scrolled through my phone trying to distract myself until Yoon Gi arrived. After a few minutes, I saw him walking towards me. This guy looked like an angel of death. Elegant and sharp as always, dark hair and in an all-black outfit. A simple tee, knee-ripped jeans, blazer, and his classic Prada Saffiano leather booties. Definitely the opposite of what is expected for a CEO.

“Hey” he greeted as he sat in front of me and immediately turned to the waiter who quickly approached, “Ardbeg. Neat”

“What’s so urgent?” Yoon Gi questioned, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

“I have news” I started cautiously and he narrowed his eyes, “The first one is that Vante bought some Min shares without my authorization, the second is that Y/N resigned and the third is that one and two are correlated”

I drank the rest of the soju I had in my glass in one gulp, leaving Yoon Gi with wide eyes and a lot to process. I could see the gears in his mind spinning and trying to make sense of everything. I would laugh if I wasn't so desperate. The waiter, on the other hand, had impeccable timing because he arrived with Yoon Gi’s whiskey just right when he needed it the most and I took the opportunity to order the whole bottle of soju right away, leaving the tab open. 

This was going to be a long night.

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

05. once upon a time | reliability • kth

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pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 3.184 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: experience all the events so far through Y/N’s perspective

A/N: i'm so so so happy with the positive feedback on this story. thank you to every single one of you who leave a like, reblog it, and takes the time to reply to the post. pls know that i see everything! i hope you will continue to share your thoughts with me, i love reading them. my inbox is always open too, even to anons <3

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YOUR POV

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I was exhausted.

Tired of pretending.

As much as I told myself that I was fine, that things were going to happen, it was all a lie. They weren't. I waited patiently for years and whenever I thought it was finally going to happen, I was disappointed.

Tae Hyung is a difficult and complex man, and I had no idea of ​​that in college. My first impression of him did not match the first interaction, which also did not match the reality of our daily lives as classmates in an elective class we took together.

I remember thinking that he was the cutest guy I had seen wearing a gray sweatshirt. His eyes were lightly covered by his wavy black hair and his lips were a really beautiful pink shade, very kissable. However, the first time we spoke it he was the one to initiate and it was to complain about something that I asked the teacher. From that day on he sent mixed signals. There were days when he insisted on questioning anything I said or did while on others he smiled sweetly, reminding me of the first time I saw him.

The way he treated me started to get annoying and I made sure to draw the line on the possibility of even becoming friends. He didn't seem to need friends anyway. I once saw him in the pub on the outskirts of campus where students would often go, and he was a completely different person. Full of life, the center of attention and surrounded by girls too. It looked like he was really alive when he had an audience. The type of person who charms everyone with charisma, good humor, and appearance. Typical rich boy behavior. Very rich I should say. The type of rich you don't see anymore. Old money. Generations of power. It was obvious that he had no idea what it was like to work to achieve something. Everything fell at his feet when he wanted and how he wanted.

Although his indifference bothered me to some extent, I had to agree that he was a great student. He got high grades, argued his opinion like nobody else, and loved to start a controversy just to amuse the group and gain morale with the teachers. Tae Hyung was a born leader.

In senior year I was already used to his personality and developed a way to deal with it whenever we interacted (which wasn’t that often, to begin with). Equal to equal. I would be a mirror. The way he treated me, I would treat him back, simple as that.

There were days when I felt that he was letting his guard down and showing himself to be just a boy uncertain about the future, somewhat vulnerable, and I even tried to talk a little bit about but he didn't seem very interested in letting other people really get to know him. It was like he was hiding something. The walls went up in seconds and I found myself, again, amid sarcastic remarks. Humor as a defense mechanism, I get it.

Our third and final project together was actually a debate open to the public. We were on opposite sides, of course. I don't remember exactly what topic we discussed, but he was in favor and I was against it. He was visibly lost, stuttering, and I took advantage of it.

After I won the debate and the whole audience got up on their feet to applaud, I finally felt like I was good enough. Good enough to be in a renowned college, good enough for my parents to be proud of me, and good enough to secure a great job; a job where I could make a difference, get a lot of money and help my family. I felt the center of attention for the first time and honestly, nothing could compare. I even remember thinking while bowing and thanking everyone ‘Oh, so this is how Tae Hyung feels all the time’, which totally makes sense. I immediately understood why he was so incredibly oblivious to the world around him and especially to those below him.

Right after graduation, I went straight to London to get an MBA, and occasionally stalked my former college colleagues' LinkedIn to find out what they were up to, where they were working, that kind of stuff. Tae Hyung’s profile, however, hadn’t much public information available. From the photo I could see that he was still the same, the only difference was that he now wore a suit. His position within the Vante was not specified and I tried to imagine whether he actually did anything there or if he simply spent his father's money as a bon vivant.

In my first month back in Korea, I received an email from Vante Enterprises asking me about my interest in an interview for a high position, totally confidential. I thought it was kind of weird because I didn't recall sending my resume over, like ever, and I very much doubt that Tae Hyung's father, then CEO, knew who I was.

And it was a good thing that he didn't because I wasn't going to work for him.

Kim Jin-ho was a very traditional tycoon and, precisely for that reason, he led Vante in an equally archaic way. And, because they were that way, I had one foot in and one foot out about the interview. I wasn't comfortable with the way these older folks did business. Back in college, I was an intern in a similar company and I saw a lot of shady stuff. I couldn't (and wouldn't) jeopardize everything I worked so hard for just for a position there. I needed to be strategic about my future, even though I was 100% aware that having Vante Enterprises on my resume would open a lot of doors.

When I finished reading the email, I googled if Tae Hyung's family was still in charge or not. I found some articles talking about recent deals, acquisitions that went well, projections for the following year, but nothing that confirmed that Tae Hyung's father was still the CEO. That was when, on a social note inside a virtual magazine, almost near the foot of the page, I saw the phrase ‘Kim Jin-ho celebrating his 60th birthday and 2,000 deals while preparing for retirement next summer’ next to a photo of Mr. Kim cutting a cake.

I paused for a moment, reflecting on the possibility of Tae Hyung taking over after his father: it was possible but a bit strange if he did. My only connection to the company was him, so if they were after me for an interview, it was because Tae Hyung appointed me, and that left me confused because I couldn't understand exactly why he did it. He didn't even like me! He literally criticized everything I did.

Or maybe…

I was good enough.

That’s it!

Right then I had a eureka moment where I realized that all the efforts I had made so far were paying off. The universe was giving back due to my hard work. I had become an acquisition specialist and both my internship and my job in London could attest to that. These two companies were monumental in helping me to understand both domestic and international markets and trained me beyond the goals I had set during college.

I was certainly worthy and should act accordingly, entering Vante with my head held high and boosting confidence. Since the position was obviously important enough for them to keep it confidential, I would have to behave as if I already got the job.

And that's what I did.

I marched into the building feeling on edge but hoping that either Tae Hyung or Ye Jun would conduct the interview. If I came face to face with their father, I would be extremely disappointed, but I wouldn't show it, of course.

As the elevator went up I remember mentally repeating my favorite affirmations, rethinking my best academic moments, visualizing my professional goals coming true, and quietly praying that everything would work out so I could have a job in Korea near my family.

When I left for London it was very hard on my parents, and on me too, although they both rooted for me unconditionally. I got a scholarship for my MBA and they gave me all of their savings so that I could support myself in the new country until I found a job. Fortunately, it didn't take long. 6 months later I had already stopped using the savings and began paying them back.

As soon as I entered the lobby I was amazed at how grandiose it was and felt a sense of belonging. Very weird! And that was exactly what fueled me to walk into the CEO office determined to win the position.

I knocked on the door three times after the secretary authorized me to go in, opening it slowly and finding the person I most wanted to see: him. His hair was still fluffy, wavy, and probably soft. When he gave me a smile and said, ‘Hello, Y/N. Long time no see!’ I was forced to hold a laugh for two simple reasons:

1. His attitude hadn't changed at all. He continued with an air of superiority disguised in good manners.

2. He had orchestrated all of this. If he hadn’t then he would look more surprised to see me. Taehyung didn't seem surprised at all, actually.

The meeting did not last very long and I left satisfied in less than 10 minutes. I certainly made a strong impression on Tae Hyung, because the next day he called me to make things official. I started the following Monday.

From that day on I embarked on a great adventure that taught me a lot about myself and the power of resilience. Working at Vante Enterprises was everything I expected it to be and Tae Hyung was an excellent leader, I'll give him that. He allowed me a lot of freedom, not only because the position I held required it, but also because I saw that he trusted me more and more each month.

That trust did not come overnight though! I worked hard to earn it. Just as I know he worked hard to earn mine too. I can't say we became proper friends, however, we did develop an unspoken bond and mutual respect where we just had to look at each other to know what the other thought about a certain situation.

However, this bond turned out to be useless when I made the biggest mistake of my career. Yes, I am talking about the purchase of the Min Industries shares, the ones that put me in this goddamn mess in the first place.

I vaguely remember Tae Hyung telling me about the deal he had with Yoon Gi one of the nights we worked overtime at the office, but not the details. In fact, on second thought, I'm sure he never told me anything. I would have remembered!

When the purchase opportunity came up I did a very detailed research for almost 3 months and I didn't find a single link that could harm Vante. I met with different shareholders of our company, then with our lawyers and finally with the interested parties. It was an incredible opportunity and I made the decision to take a risk without communicating to Tae Hyung. I had never consulted him before, so I wouldn’t start now, right? Well, that was my thought, and what a wrong thought it was. If I could go back in time, I would.

At the emergency meeting when I heard him say that Vante was undergoing devaluation thanks to my decision, my heart stopped for a few seconds, the air escaped from my lungs and I started to freak out internally, looking for all possible mistakes that I could have committed. The louder his voice got, the more embarrassed I became and wanted to shout back explaining that I had done nothing wrong, that the purchase was legitimate and that there was no reason for devaluation. I was being humiliated for simply doing my job. The audacity of this guy!

I took a deep breath, stood up, projected my notes, explained everything in as much detail as possible, and found comfort in knowing that I had done everything right. There were no mistakes. I don't make mistakes. Well, that wasn’t true anymore I guess.

When everyone left the room and Tae Hyung and I were alone, I confronted him asking how he loves to exaggerate things. To my not-so-great surprise, he called me irresponsible. Okay, he didn't exactly use that word, but he did tell me something about not knowing how to follow rules and who doesn't follow rules is either irresponsible or stupid. I looked at him feeling a little hurt because I knew he knew me better than that — I was the complete opposite of irresponsible. Instead, I replied that I loved my job and that he paid me well for it, which is true, after all, I am very good at what I do and it gives me immense satisfaction when I manage to improve people's lives with my acquisitions, even if indirectly.

Tae Hyung got distracted for a few seconds so I took the papers he was holding. As soon as I quickly scanned the content, my argument fell apart and all the confidence I had in my work immediately left my body. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Lots of confidential information, things I should know but didn't know thanks to Tae Hyung who chose to keep it from me. Was he becoming like his father? What else had he agreed with Min Industries? And what about other companies? Was he making decisions behind my back?

I suddenly felt sick because all of this could have been avoided if he had opened up to me, explained the details. I wouldn't tell anyone whatever his secret about Yoon Gi is, it was probably not even that relevant. If I had seen these projections before, I would not have bought the shares, obviously. I could only think: you’re such a dumbass, Y/N!

It was exactly during my desperate fit while gathering all my belongings scattered around the meeting room, feeling desperate to leave, that Tae Hyung said one of the most painful things I have ever heard coming out of his mouth, ‘Where is my trust in you now?’

I would rather have been stabbed, it would actually hurt less.

Maybe it was the way he said it or the fact that it was the last straw in a hopeless scenario, but with that question, I felt free. I wasn't going to pretend anymore. I was so tired of playing his games, trying to understand his obsession with rules, sympathizing with his family problems, giving my blood, sweat, and tears for this company, basically being his work wife, giving up personal quality time with my family using the pretext that I was working harder to provide or to put aside any possibility of personal life that I had because deep down I hoped that he would finally see me as someone worthy, someone on the same level as him.

But I wasn’t.

I was never going to be.

So I said that I quitted and left the room, without waiting for a reaction or reply. I didn't want to hear anymore. Yes, I had an important position, yes I had become a shareholder in less than five years, yes I made a lot of money and helped my family, but at what cost?

All of this, all this effort, for him to question my trust? My loyalty to Vante? To him? I was a fool to believe that I really knew Tae Hyung. Even more for assuming that he knew me too. Ten years right down the drain because of a stupid mistake. Or was it really that stupid? It was looking more like a blessing in disguise because that was what allowed me to put myself first.

Arriving at the lobby, I was feeling too upset to be confined in a metal box and decided to choose the good old emergency staircase. She was my companion in so many difficult and challenging times. Personal and professional. She heard me cry and scream. Saw me jump and celebrate. It couldn't be any different now, right? And maybe it was my last time taking advantage of its magical powers.

It didn't take long to hear Tae Hyung's voice calling me and then coming up right behind me. I've never been so angry and hurt in my life and I didn't want to see him. I needed space, was that so hard for him to understand?

He kept following me, begging for my attention and justifying what, at that moment, seemed unjustifiable to me. I wanted some time to think, to breathe, to do anything that didn't have to do with him or Vante. But then he touched me and the warmth of his skin brought me back to reality.

This could not be happening. Focus!

He kept insisting that it was all my fault and I was about to start screaming. Tae Hyung didn't hear me, didn't see me, didn't understand me. It was suffocating. He even dared to say that I loved Vante.

I loved something else, lots of other things to be honest, but he never cared enough to know what they were. Vante was waaaay down on my love list. This was just the place I worked, my God.

That's why when Tae Hyung told me he needed me there and I made it clear that he didn't need me for anything. He never did. I'm good at what I do, but he's just as good. He hired me to share the responsibilities and make more time for the other activities required for a CEO. Including those that could very well be illegal, right? Who knows...

No matter what arguments or fights he tried to start, or how blind he was, my tiredness was not going to be magically cured, my mental exhaustion wiped out forever and my feeling of non-belonging resolved. I seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thought somehow it could be different, but there are things in life that are not meant to be. I couldn't force an end result just because I wanted to. This wasn’t how a relationship worked.

So I asked him not to follow me anymore, I wanted to get off that fucking emergency staircase. I felt like I was going to be sick again, my blood pressure was low and I needed air. I’m done. A place that was special to me now has been polluted with this presumptuous little scene of him all smug telling me what I should or shouldn't do, wanting to label my feelings, not taking my resignation seriously, and demanding that I return the next day.

Fucking men.⠀

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

06. too blind to see | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 2.258 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: taehyung seeks advice from yoongi and ends up realizing that there are some unresolved feelings he needs to figure it out

A/N: this was probably one of my favorite chapters to write. working on the relationship between tae and yoongi is refreshing, because yoongi comes in as the voice of reason (and maybe even the reader's voice too a lil’ bit) and is a very important thing for the protagonist's development.

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“This is concerning” Yoon Gi said as he took the glass from the waiter's tray, “And it also doesn't make any sense. Y/N would never resign without good reason.” He paused briefly to face me, as I remained silent trying to find the right words. “What did you do, Tae Hyung?”

I fidgeted in the armchair a couple of times and ran my hands through my hair before revealing in a tone that I hoped was casual and aloof enough as if things like this happened all the time and I was perfectly okay with the consequences.

“I may or may not have humiliated her in front of the shareholders just to make a point about how wrong it was to go behind my back to buy your shares and then in private question her trust”

“Tell me you're joking” Yoon Gi looked me up and down, his expression a little difficult to read. He looked angry but at the same time confused, as if he hadn't heard me right. Apparently, my attempt at sounding casual failed. I could only mumble sounds. Words? What was that? I suddenly became desperate. Who was I trying to fool? Yoon Gi or myself?

“Tae Hyung! Are you stupid?” he placed the drink on the small table between us, “Why did you do that?”

The real reason I didn't know. I simply did it. Impulse? Yes. Stupidity? For sure. Ego? Most likely. The more I replay the incident in my head, the more ridiculous it gets. Saying it out loud? Mortifying.

“I know, I know” I started defending myself, “In the beginning, the shareholders were all nice and everything was great. They sucked up to me the way they never sucked up to my dad. However, as the years went by I started to deny their perks and demands and they responded by doing the absolute minimum. Didn't affect Vante as you would expect, instead left me with a bunch of shit to do and stress level through the roof” I explained.

Yoon Gi took another sip of his whiskey and, still holding the glass close to his mouth, he pointed his index finger at me making the liquid stir inside. “From where I’m standing you shouldn’t have used Y/N in your so-called revenge plan. You should have talked to her about it first and come up with a plan together to fuck those assholes”

“Yes, we already established that I am a jerk” I lowered my head, pouring more soju, “When I first heard she bought the shares I got really pissed, I’m not gonna lie. I explicitly told her you and I had a deal and she had to come to me first” I continued to defend myself, after all, there was some sort of logic behind my fuck up.

“She bought shares in which company?” Yoon Gi asked.

I squinted for a moment trying to remember names, “FL and Losna"

“Not many people know I own Losna, Tae” he pondered, “It may have been an honest mistake on her part”

“She knew about FL though!”

“I don't care, you’re wrong”

“Yoon Gi” I cry out.

I wanted his help to make sense of all of this and also get some moral support, not to take Y/N’s side and tell me the truth so bluntly. We have been brothers since we were ten years old, which means I hope he will lie to me and spare my feelings — it’s called good manners.

“Tae Hyung” he mimicked me in a sarcastic tone, obviously making fun of my pain, “Listen, I’ll talk to my lawyers about this to see how we can reverse the deal. At least with FL. Losna doesn’t matter much”

Yoon Gi was always mature, sensible, and responsible, there was no way he would spare my feelings. Deep down I knew that and understood he was the only friend who could get me right on track. Did I enjoy our little dynamic? No. Did it work? Every goddamn time.

“What about your dad? What will you tell him once he finds out?” I asked, making Yoon Gi laugh.

“The truth” he replied.

I crossed my arms and stared at him in total disbelief, “You say it like it’s easy…”

“It's not easy at all, but unlike you, my friend, I have this thing called uh…” Yoon Gi paused dramatically looking around as if he had lost something in the armchair, “...balls, so it’ll be fine” he smiled, not showing his teeth.

“Ha ha, very funny” I slowly clapped my hands.

“I wasn't trying to be” his eyebrows arched in surprise, “Natural talent, perhaps?”

“Sure, let’s go with that” I scoffed, “Can your natural talent also help me get back on Y/N’s good side?”

Yoon Gi narrowed his eyes, “Is there more you’re not telling me? Did something else happen?”

This man knew me very well, so much so he knew exactly when I was hiding a piece of information. If I wanted his help, I should tell the full story with Y/N, not just the meeting/humiliation part, so that's how I spent the next fifteen minutes detailing our conversation (or should I say fight?) at the building's emergency stairs.

When I finished, Yoon Gi took a few seconds to digest it all and then tilted his head sideways, biting his lip, trying to read my body expression. “Why are you so desperate to get her back?” he finally asked.

Thank God, an easy question to answer. “Because she is the best and I need her”

“Nah, I don't think that's it” he shook his head and shifted his body, now sitting more on the edge of the chair with a smirk on his face.

“What? What are you trying to say?” I disputed.

“You like her” he pointed his fingers at me, the smirk still intact on his face.

“I what?”

“Like her” Yoon Gi repeated and chuckled as he leaned back in his armchair again, probably satisfied with his ridiculously inaccurate and delusional remark. Unbelievable.

“Since when do you get drunk with only two glasses of whiskey?” I wondered.

“Don't deflect, Tae Hyung”

“I'm not” I shrugged looking around. I wanted to leave so bad. “I don’t know where you got this impression but I don’t like her”

“Don't deny it, Tae Hyung” Yoon Gi rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll play along” I took off my blazer feeling annoyed with this line of questioning, “What made you think I like Y/N?”

Yoon Gi wasted no time. “Gee, I don't know, maybe it has to do with the fact that you talk about her all the time?” he leaned in to pick up his whiskey from the table, “Or how you find any excuse to work late just to see her for a couple more hours?” he asked before taking a sip.

“No no, forget it, I think it's because she never let you shoot your shot, not even in college, and you are secretly obsessed with the tug of war you two play” he seemed to be talking to himself, “It irritates you so damn much but at the same time is exciting, isn't it?” he finally looked at me and smiled. “You hate being told no but she makes it cool, doesn't she?” he lifted the glass as if he wanted to make a toast.

I looked to the glass, then to his face, then back to the glass. What is happening? Where did he get all this from? Why so many details?

“You have to stop reading webtoons, I'm serious” was all I managed to say.

“How can you be this oblivious?” Yoon Gi snorted. “I’m actually a bit sad for you”

“I don't see why” I blinked, confused by his statement. “I'm fine, she's fine. We'll see each other tomorrow” I smiled, sipping some of my soju after raising the glass. This was something worthy of a toast.

“You poor thing. No you won’t, she won’t come back” he shook his head. “I’m sorry to be the one to break it down for you but not only is she ‘the one that got away’, she’s also an amazing professional who just got an amazing opportunity”

When I called Yoon Gi earlier tonight this was not what I had in mind. As time went by I felt worse about how unable I was to resolve the situation.

“Opportunity?”

Yoon Gi pursed his lips for a moment organizing his thoughts. “Y/N is free to do whatever she wants and, honestly, I don't blame her. Ten years with you would take a toll on anybody”

“We’ve known each other for twenty” I replied, pretending to be offended.

“I’m not anybody, first of all” it was Yoon Gi's turn to be fake offended “And you're like my little brother, so it's different” he crossed his legs.

I sank in the armchair imagining Y/N disappearing from my life and never stepping a foot on Vante again: a bitter taste came to my mouth and I felt my chest tighten. 

“You really think she would do that? You know, go work somewhere else?”

Yoon Gi blushed and shyly nodded, “I would if I was her”

But she can’t go. I made a stupid judgment call and it’s not a good enough reason for her to quit. Maybe there is something more she isn’t telling me. If I could just talk to her one more time, if she gave me another chance, I would shut the fuck up and listen. She could demand anything and I would give it to her. A raise? More vacation days? Less overtime? I am willing to do whatever to get her back.

Seeing my sad face, Yoon Gi added, “Give her some space, Tae. Actual space, okay? Don’t call her, don’t text her, and for God’s sake, don’t chase her down some stairs”

Yeah, he's right, I shouldn't be pushing too hard, but then how am I going to show her how sorry I am? Me and my fucking ego ruined everything, that's great.

“I think the first thing you need to do is figure out how you truly feel about her" Yoon Gi started once he noticed the shift in my mood, “I can talk all night long about the tiny details I noticed throughout the years but it won't make any difference because you have to look back and see it for yourself”

I could honestly feel how much Yoon Gi cared. His tone of voice was soft and even a bit sweet, leaving me with no choice but to lift my chin and meet his concerned and loving gaze.

“I can be wrong though, I don't know” he quickly added, uncrossing his legs and placing his hands on his lap. “To be honest I was waiting for the day when you would come up to me and tell you guys were finally a thing. I kinda hoped you were at least working on it at this point. It's been a decade in the making, maybe more” he laughed trying to lighten the mood.

“I-I don't know, man” I confessed.

It was strange for me to hear out loud that Y/N was different because I always knew she was, since and the first time we met. There was something about her that attracted me and at the same time drove me crazy. I hated the way she treated me, always acting like she was superior, but I loved the way her indifference encouraged me to be better and overcome my own limits.

I never felt the need to label our relationship because it had automatically been labeled as 'incompatible' from the get go. It didn't matter how beautiful I thought she looked in a ponytail while studying late at night at the college library, how I envied her attitude towards life or her extensive knowledge in any subject, nor the good relationship she had with all the teachers, classmates. and now Vante employees, Y/N and I were not close enough to create a bond, let alone a relationship. We had no time, opportunity or desire to, I suppose.

Her position in the company felt like meant to be one of my mom’s shenanigans so it was surprising how long it took for shit to hit the fan. At some point, we were bound to have a fight or even fall out for good but I guessed that would happen within the first two years, not now. Besides, in the ten years she spent here, three were dating a guy from London. On and off, of course.

How was I supposed to compete with him? Not that I thought about competing in the first place but if I hypothetically did I wouldn’t stand a chance. Even with me being obviously more handsome, successful, and richer than him, they had a bond and intellectual compatibility I could never match.

“It's okay,” Yoon Gi assured with his hand on my shoulder, “that's why I told you to give it some thought and figure it out. It's normal, you have been close for so long that it might be hard to distinguish at first”

That's it? 

I'm just used to thinking of Y/N as a partner and not as a potential lover? Is it okay to change my mind at some point? Does she even care? What would she say? Wait, what would I say to her? 

This is all happening so fast.

I'm scared.

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

07. a double-edged sword | reliability • kth

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pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 4.738 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: over the course of a month, tae is forced to face his feelings in order to fix things with Y/N. but will he be able to? she has some news.

A/N: a double-edged sword: a situation or course of action having both positive and negative effects. in this particular chapter i wanted to show that even when you have the best intentions at heart, things might take an inexpected turn and get you back to square one

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≡ 24 hours later ≡

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Saturday. 11pm. I was trying so hard to fell asleep but my stupid and stubborn brain only knew how to repeat Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, over and over and over and over again — it was driving me nuts.

Yoon Gi helped. He truly did. I felt so much better after talking to him but to be completely honest he stirred some shit inside me too and I wasn't sure how productive the next few days were going to be. If I can't sleep, how am I supposed to focus on work? Y/N may have quit but I was still CEO and had a lot of people depending on me.

In the dark, the light beams that came in through the bedroom window made shadows with interesting shapes and I stared at the ceiling as if it was going to give me the answers I needed.

I took a deep breath.

They say there are 5 stages to grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I already went through 3 but out of order. Does that count?

At first, I tried to bargain with Y/N. No success there. Then I went to straight denial as Yoon Gi casually pointed out how dumb and blind I have been. Now I'm getting depressed because I don't really see a way out of this. Y/N is gone.

Another deep breath.

Maybe I should go make ramen.

In the kitchen, while setting everything up, I went over different conversations I had with Y/N over the years, looking for any hint that my subconscious could have given me that I genuinely liked her. It was still weird to talk about it so openly, even in my own head. Bringing to consciousness something that was asleep, for whatever reason, was uncomfortable.

I'm not sure why I made a point of burying the possibility inside me. Maybe because I believed she hated me (but if she hated you so much, why did she go to work for you?), maybe because I thought she didn't have time for a relationship (she didn't have time because you loaded her with work, idiot) or it was because I was simply afraid (this seems like the most logical option, congratulations). The dialogue with myself went on for a while until the ramen was just the way I like it and I ate out of the pan sitting at the dinner table.

What do I really feel for her?

Is it attraction? Admiration? Lust?

What do I like about her?

If I text Yoon Gi right now will he block me? Probably.

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≡ 1 week later ≡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “You have been quiet since you got here, honey. Did something happen?” my mom asked as she calmly sliced her steak. Joining us at the table were my father, my brother, and his fiancee Hyun Jae.

“Don't tell me you lost the exclusivity deal with that Australian company” my dad sipped some of his wine while my mom gave an elusive nudge with her elbow making him almost spit his drink.

“No dad, I renewed the deal” I replied.

“So what happened?” my mom insisted, more concerned now, even making Ye Jun lookup.

“Nothing, nothing” I reaffirmed with a (fake) smile making her smile too. “Tell me about the wedding, Jun. Have you guys set the date yet?” I pointed the knife at my brother and my future sister-in-law.

“September 15th” Hyun Jae nodded sheepishly.

“Excellent! I will ask Eun Ae to block my schedule"

“Thank you, Tae” Ye Jun smiled.

“It will be here in Seoul, a classic but intimate ceremony. We are not going to invite many people, just the dearest ones” Hyun Jae explained. “Are you bringing someone?”

I think she must have asked the question that everyone there wanted to ask because the three heads immediately turned to me. My mom because she was curious, my father because he was surprised, and my brother because of Hyun Jae's boldness. Now it was his turn to nudge her with his elbow.

“You can bring someone, or not, it’s fine, we don't care” she laughed embarrassed. “I mean, we do care, you are very important, we are family…” she immediately corrected herself.

“Baby, I think he got it” Ye Jun put his hand on top of Hyun Jae's, making her stop and breathe. It was actually funny the way she blushed. My brother, poor guy, head over heels for her, admired every tiny detail on her face. They deserve each other.

“You should bring Y/N” my mom commented with a smirk as if she had said the most brilliant thing ever.

My dad looked at her a little surprised, “She's a good girl, but wouldn't she give the wrong impression?”

I didn't even have time to say anything, because my mom already intervened as if Y/N was her own daughter, “What do you mean wrong?”

“No, not like that” said my father, “She works at Vante, she is not Tae Hyung's girlfriend. People gossip, you know Soo Jin?”

“And what do you know about gossip, anyway?” my mom narrowed her eyes.

“I'm right here, guys” I remarked, “Doesn't my opinion count?”

“Right” my dad rolled his eyes at my mom and turned to me, “What do you think? Would she accept the invitation even though she only has a professional relationship with you?”

“Maybe, I'll have to ask her” I took another bite of my food. With my mouth full I can't spill out that Y/N no longer works at Vante. My father would kill me.

* * * *⠀

As I'm walking to the front door to grab my jacket and car keys after I said goodbye to my family, I hear footsteps approaching behind me. To no surprise at all, it was my mother.

“You used to stay longer, you know?” she stood beside me, snuggling to her beautiful peach cardigan. Her cheekbones had a light shade of pink and her hair was up in a ponytail. She looked so young.

“I'm sorry mom, I really have to go”

“But it's Sunday” she pouted, hugging my right arm and stopping me from putting the other side of the jacket on.

My mom had this adorable side that came out every once in a while, whenever she needed some attention. Didn't happen much, but at the same time, it made my heart grow bigger. It also made me a little bit sad too since I knew it was because she was feeling either sad or lonely.

“Yeah, I know, I wish I could but there's a lot to be done at the company and I have to prepare for a big meeting tomorrow” I (white) lied since I'm embarrassed about the actual reason why. A part of that statement was true though.

“I know that excuse all too well” my mom side-eyed me, letting go of my arm, “Your dad used to say it quite a lot”

More and more I see traits of my dad in me and I hate it. I swore from the beginning that I was going to be different. Better. Look at me treating my mom the same way he did for so many years. I'm pathetic.

“Can't you ask Y/N to help you or handle the meeting? Just this once” she pleaded, watching me put the car keys in the jacket’s front pocket, “Your brother's wedding it's in 6 weeks and I need to discuss some things with you before"

“Uh…” I paused for a second. I should have seen this question coming. “Y/N is very busy too” I shrugged nonchalantly.

My mom furrowed her eyebrows.

“Let me check my schedule” I quickly intervened, holding her by the shoulders, trying to change the subject, “I think I can come to dinner next Friday and we’ll talk about the wedding”

“Fine” she sighed in defeat.

I gave her a big box smile and a kiss on the forehead, “Okay, I gotta go now, mom”

As I was reaching for the doorknob she said, “Wait, just one more thing”

“Yeah?” I turned around.

She looked me dead in the eyes, cute attitude long gone. “Apologize to Y/N”

“W-what?” I stammered in shock.

“I don't know what you did, but just apologize” she pointed her finger at me as if I was five years old and just did something naughty.

“How did you…” I avoided her stare, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Whenever we asked about her you gave evasive answers” she said just before poking me in the chest, “And I know you"

This was my problem and I didn’t want my mom worrying about it. She had a tendency to want to solve everything for everyone and I suspect she would also like me to date Y/N. To this day, I don't know what her real intention was in insisting on hiring Y/N, but something tells me that it was love at first sight for my mother — unlike me, which was not even on the 8790th sight. If my mother could have chosen to have a daughter, I’m sure she would describe Y/N head to toe, flaws and all.

“Thanks mom but I'll find a way to fix it” I replied with a faint smile, barely holding it together. If she only knew how I was feeling inside.

“Oh, I know that, you always do” she gave me a wink, “Just remember to speak from the heart” and rubbed my chest.

“I did that. Didn't work"

“Are you sure?” she squinted her eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course!” I pulled away.

“Tae Hyung, you have a terrible way to communicate your feelings” she looked back at the living room making sure no one was close by to listen to the next part as she whispered, “and that's on me and your dad" I laughed and she returned to normal volume, “So I highly doubt you knew what you were doing”

“I asked her to stay, that I needed her there”

“Wait, why?” she grabbed my arm again and led me towards the door.

“She quit” I whispered as we crossed the threshold.

“What?” my mom shouted.

“Shh!!” I said while closing the door behind us and pulling her close to me as we walked to the driveway, “Yes, I fucked up really bad mom, but I know that if I can just talk to her one more time I'll convince her to change her mind”

“Where is she now?” my mom asked, lowering the hand that was over her mouth.

There’s no more hiding, I guess. I need to come clean.

“I don't know"

“Good God, Tae Hyung” she slapped my arm, “How in the world did you manage to lose your most devoted and talented employee?”

“By being an asshole” I confessed.

She rolled her eyes, “Lovely”

The moment we approach my car I suddenly turn around, desperation fully displayed on my face, “Can you just please keep this a secret? I'll figure something out, just don't tell dad yet”

My mom pondered for a few seconds. Not if she was going to tell my dad or not, because I knew she wouldn't do it, but what to say to me next. I could see in her eyes how worried she was and how badly she wanted to offer me some kind of solution (the family's problem solver, remember?). Instead, she just used the old-fashioned threat, “You better!”

“Now I really have to go” I gave her a hug. “I love you”

“I love you too” she squeezed me a bit tighter before taking a step back and cupping my face, “And remember: be honest. With her, and with yourself”

“I will…” I nodded, promising myself that as difficult as it was, I would try. My mom was right and that was good advice.

“And stop being an asshole” she moved her hands from my cheeks and rested them on my shoulders.

That was also another good piece of advice, although more difficult to execute, so I just laughed, “I will”

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≡ 1 month later ≡

 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Right after I got out of the shower, while still drying my hair, I noticed my phone light up and vibrate over the sink. It took me a few seconds to register the name that appeared in large letters at the top: Y/N. I threw the towel away and picked up the device as fast as I could, almost dropping it on the floor. Desperate was an understatement.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Are you at home?” she asked, which I immediately replied with a grunt which made her continue, “Can I come in? We need to talk”

The tone in Y/N's voice was serious but didn’t show anger as I thought it would; not like that day on the emergency staircase, at least. I ran over to the intercom and saw her on the camera. The request was surprising, the time even more so. It wasn't like her to show up here at my house, so whatever she had to talk about it must be urgent. Okay, Y/N was the topic of conversation, but something stirred inside me and I started to feel restless.

“Sure” I replied, pressing the button that opened the gate and ending the call right away.

She caught me so off guard and I didn't even have time to put clothes on! I was still in my bathrobe. Damn, this doesn't seem appropriate. As soon as I heard the front door open, I ran into the bedroom and put on the first outfit I saw, a set of black sweats.

Back in the living room, Y/N was sitting on the couch with her elbows resting on her thighs and her chin in her hands, swinging back and forth. Was she nervous or just bored?

“Ah, hello!” I coughed first to announce my presence, “Sorry, I just got out of the shower”

“That’s okay” she straightened up and smiled, watching me walk around the couch and sit, “I should have given you a heads up before coming and not simply show up at your doorstep”

“You are always welcome” I adjusted the glasses on the bridge of my nose, still unsure of what to say next and somewhat afraid of what she had to tell me, “Did something happen?”

Y/N took a deep breath.

Oh-oh, that doesn't sound good.

“Over the past few weeks, I thought a lot about what happened, about the things I said and, especially about the things I didn't say” she looked away, now staring at the tv on the wall in front of us. “Do you remember that acquisition in Hong Kong?”

It took me a few seconds to pinpoint the memory but I smiled when I did, “Sure, it was your first international purchase”

That day Y/N was so happy and I remember thinking ‘It's just another purchase, why is she smiling so much?’, without even considering how meaningful it must have been for her.

“Yes, but what I remember most vividly about that day was the way you treated me” her gaze now returned to me, nostalgic and a kind of sad, “I felt invincible because you believed that I could be invincible” she smiled without showing her teeth as if the memory itself was a little painful to talk about.

“I thought you knew” I replied frowning, “You always acted like you were” I chuckled and Y/N blushed.

“Apparently, we never properly recognized how alike we are and how we have influenced each other over the years, have we?” she asked.

I thought about it for a moment, “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

“Everything has always been so implicit” she nodded, “At least for me…”

“Of course, for me too. I was never big on words, you know that” I agreed.

“Maybe that was our mistake too” she observed, suddenly making me understand exactly what this conversation was about. Watching my reaction closely, she continued, “You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”

I knew, of course I did, but it is so difficult to say it out loud.

“My inability to say thank you?” I teased, trying to be funny, too much of a coward to keep going. Why am I like this? Why do I have to make things more complicated? It's so simple. She is so simple.

“I was talking about how we both took each other's trust for granted and ended up abusing certain situations, thinking it would be okay and just brushing them off when in fact the chance of us getting hurt and feeling betrayed was pretty big” Y/N shrugged, “but sure, you can be really ungrateful”

Shit.

I must have spent a lot of time staring at my feet, searching for the right words, because she took advantage of my silence to keep talking.

“Precisely because I knew you trusted me so much, it didn't even cross my mind to consult you on such a small acquisition and, at that time, very insignificant and disconnected of Min Industries, because I had done it before” she paused and glanced back at me just to make sure that I was following along. “You, on the other hand, thought that I would stay, even after I was humiliated and hurt because that wasn’t the first time that we disagreed on something and you put on a little show”

Yup, she called me on my bullshit. I really took our relationship for granted. When I think of the selfish way in which I made certain decisions or how I treated her, it almost seems like an out-of-body experience. It is as if I look at myself and couldn’t recognize the person in front of me.

“My mistake was to assume that you knew and respected me enough not to use me as a pawn in a pathetic power scheme” Y/N continued, now with a little more urgency in her voice, “And yours was that I was going to tolerate this behavior forever and quietly; a bit submissively too”

She got up and started pacing around the room, “I should have told you that your attitude bothered me but I was busy and naively waiting for that Hong Kong Tae Hyung to appear. The one who was kind, empathetic, and also funny” she seemed lost in thought but not for long. She then regained focus and asked me with bitterness in her voice, “I wanted to be your friend, wasn’t it obvious?”

“No, quite the opposite” I snapped.

“Since college”

“What?” I widened my eyes, “You ignored me in college"

“Because in the few interactions we had, you always found a way to criticize me”

“Wait, you criticized me” I said, getting up and pointing a finger at Y/N.

She watched me do this and pointed her finger back, stammering a little bit, “I-I did it because you did it first”

“I'm so confused…” I massaged my temples as I walked towards the kitchen. Water, I need water.

Y/N was right behind me. She stopped in front of the island and watched me open the fridge. “You really have no idea what's going on around you, do you? Always oblivious”

“I don’t do it on purpose, Y/N” I justified, slamming the door and opening the bottle of water. My voice came out a little harsh because of the mocking tone she had used before — I couldn't help it, this is how we communicate. She noticed.

“But it doesn't hurt any less because of it” she whispered, lowering her head and staring at the counter.

Even after I realized my reaction was exaggerated and being completely aware that this was the whole point of the conversation, I couldn't hold back the following words and kind of shouted, “Is that what you wanted to tell me? At this hour of the night? That I’m a bad person? Thanks, I got the memo”

Y/N took a deep breath, “I'll let this one slide”

Does she want to lay all the cards on the table? Great, let’s do it.

“You know what?” I started, taking a quick sip of water and closing the bottle, “I've been waiting to hear from you for over a month. I was desperate thinking that something had happened. Now you show up here, late at night, with what I thought would be an explanation or at least a productive conversation, but no” I faced Y/N, my hands resting on the cold marble, fingertips gripping the edge tightly. “What do you want?”

“To tell you straight up I’m tired” she replied without any emotion in her voice, “I'm tired of your games, trying to understand your obsession with rules, sympathizing with your family problems, giving my blood sweat, and tears for Vante, acting like your work wife, giving up quality time with my family or any possibility of personal life” she shifted the weight from one leg to the other and tilted her head a little to the side, “I just wanted you to see me as worthy”

“Worthy?” I asked.

“Worthy of your time, of your friendship, and who knows, maybe something more” Y/N ended with a humorless laugh, the kind you give after hearing something absurd or a bad joke.

“Something more?” I blinked trying to assimilate the information.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Don't try to be funny now”

“Promise I’m not” I raised both hands.

“Tae Hyung, for God's sake, the tension between us is palpable, it always has been. Can you honestly tell me you didn't feel it?” she leaned over the island and grabbed the water bottle in front of me and drank right away.

“Well, yes... I did” I scratched my head, “but you are so hard to read…”

“That's because you never bothered to get to know me. Not really” she capped the bottle and tossed it back to me, “Back in college you made sure to put up a wall between us. I don't even know you”

“What are you talking about?” I grabbed the bottle with one hand in a quick reflex, “You’re the person who knows me the best, Y/N” I pointed the bottle back at her.

“You only get that impression because we spent hours on end together, but when was the last time you told me anything personal?”

Wait, that was a valid question. When was the last time? I'm sure it wasn't that long ago. Hold on, I'll remember. It was that day... no, it was that time...

“See?” she crossed her arms, taking advantage of my inner monologue.

“We’re digressing” I walked around the kitchen, returning to the couch, “What is this worthy thing all about? Do you…” I paused as I sat down, biting my bottom lip “Do you like me?” I asked.

Y/N, still in the kitchen, laughed to herself before slapping the island's surface, “Out of everything I said, is this the part you’re focusing on?”

“Oh I'm sorry if I'm a little shocked by the ton of information you just dumped on me” I said in a sarcastic tone, getting up from the couch feeling the adrenaline running through my body, it was impossible to stay still. “It’s obvious that I had no idea that you felt so bad working at Vante, if I had known I would have done something about it. I never wanted or expected you to give up your life for me or the company, now I feel bad”

“It is what it is” she put her hands in the front pockets of the plaid maxi blazer and walked towards me.

“No, it doesn't work like that” I shook my head “It’s like you don't know the basics”

Then that's it. We reached the point of no return. With each new information Y/N revealed, more urgent was my need to make everything clear. I was scared as hell, but we had no choice. Either we talked about how we really felt or we would end our relationship for good.

“You can't come to my house and say everything you want to say and hope that I don't say anything back. The last month was a fucking nightmare for me, I replayed that night over and over in my head, dissecting all my answers and finding three new ones, because I knew I made the biggest mistake of my life” I felt like my heart was going to come out of my mouth, blood pumping in my ear, my hands were starting to sweat, “If I could go back in time, I would, but I can’t. And where were you for me to properly apologize?”

“I needed some time” she muttered.

“Yes, I understand, I don’t blame you. But now you’re here. Let's talk!”

Y/N was still standing behind the couch, her facial expression impassive, just waiting for what I was going to say next. I, on the other hand, had already taken off my glasses and moved to the front of the tv, walking back and forth in an attempt to calm down a little and choose the right set of words.

“I know I already said it, but I’m gonna say it again, I shouldn't have humiliated you in front of the shareholders, let alone questioned your trust or loyalty to me and Vante. For that and also for being an absolute jerk most of the time, I sincerely apologize”

Y/N nodded.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, drive you away, or disrespect you. You are the person I admire the most within the company. That day I saw the perfect opportunity and went for it. I thought that if I showed the shareholders that even the “boss’s favorite” didn’t have privileges, of course, they wouldn’t” I said calmly and slowly so that she had time to absorb everything.

“I am obsessed with rules because they help me find order amid chaos” I continued, “I’m terrible with surprises. I hate the feeling of helplessness that comes attached to error. My perfectionist nature limits me more than it helps and if I could change something about myself it would be that”

I walk towards Y/N, the only thing between us is the couch.

“Believe me, I didn’t make a conscious choice to use them as an obstacle to anything, including a relationship. I'm sorry for that too” I rubbed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“About telling you things about my personal life, I honestly thought you didn't care at all” I looked up to meet her eyes, “Even before Vante, you never seemed to care about me that way” I put my hands in my sweatshirt pocket, “You mentioned the wall I put up, but you must have helped me build it because I also know very little about your life. Have you noticed that?”

Y/N was speechless. From her reaction, I could see I struck a nerve. She was too focused on pointing out my defects and forgot to recognize her own.

“Huh…” she said, narrowing her eyes after thinking for a while, “I think you’re right. Better late than never then”

“What?”

“Eric proposed to me” Y/N stated.

I shake my head, suddenly dizzy by what I just heard. Torn between confusion, despair, and a nervous breakdown, I feel like screaming and laughing at the same time because if I heard her correctly it is ridiculous. 

“Are you serious?”

Was Y/N testing me? I thought she liked me. Up until three minutes ago, that was what she made me believe. I’m not crazy, she said 'something more’, didn't she? So how could she be marrying another guy? And that stupid englishman of all people? It must be a joke.

“Didn’t you want me to tell you about my personal life? This is personal” Y/N crossed her arms, “Eric proposed to me”

“Okay, you are serious” I said to myself, “What did you say?” I turned my face to her, a pleading look on my face. At that moment it was impossible to read her expression and the silence was killing me, “Did you accept, Y/N?”

“Yes”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

Fateful Beginnings

VII. “peaches”

parts: previous / next

plot: after an awkward first night in Wayne Manor, the morning brings another unfortunate situation.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, struggling to breathe, tension

words: 2.9k

The house tour was as bitter as you anticipated. You followed in tow, his shoulders slumped as he gestured from room to room. You were beginning to get winded going up all the stairs and across the so, so expansive floors. You reached a room with double doors and a heavy lock. He glanced at you from over his shoulder, the first time he'd looked back in fifteen minutes.

"This is my parent's room." He spoke it like he was frozen in time, like any heat from his voice would blow the room from existence. And then you stood in silence. He didn't know if he should leave, and you didn't have anywhere to leave to. Alfred was taking his sweet time, and a part of you wondered if he weren't hiding in the shadowy corners of the house to try and get you two to bond. You hoped Alfred didn't have it out for you that bad.

Bruce didn't look at you as he walked down the wide, open hallway toward his room, but he stopped at the doorway. He didn't want to leave you alone, but he didn't want you to be here. Why was he so worried about being polite? Why did he owe you anything? He'd saved you in that alley and how did you repay him? With blackmail?

Him standing with his back to you in the hallway made you uneasy. You wanted to blame him for how unwelcoming he had been but... again, you'd forced your way in. It was nice enough they weren't throwing you out to take your chances on the flood waters. If it weren't for Alfred, maybe he would.

You stood there like that for a moment. Together in the moment but as far away from each other as possible. The house was disturbingly quiet. You hated that, and hoped you'd be able to sleep. Alfred saved you a minute later, motioning for you to follow him up one more stairwell and to the right. You were going to be sleeping in the room just above Bruce's.

The room was understated compared to the rest of the house. White walls (surprising with the gothic architecture), pale linen sheets, a floral comforter, and a laptop and phone charger sitting atop a particularly plump pillow. He had lit a candle in the corner, likely covering up whatever musk was natural to the space. There was a small lamp on top a side table where Alfred has graciously placed two bottles of water and a granola bar. Alongside it, a note: In case of a midnight snack. Feel free to go to the kitchen however often you please. You felt like you were at a hotel. And... how did Bruce live with someone so charming and remain so hostile?

You opened the laptop and mindlessly typed away on a new document. It turned a bit more into a journal without your conscious intent.

I'm stuck here with asshole Bruce Wayne. Maybe Bruce Wayne isn't an asshole though, maybe I'm the asshole. I blackmailed him. Kinda. I don't know. Alfred is nice. It's weird to call someone so old by their first name, but he's kindly enough. These sheets are kinda rough. I'm so tired. I don't want to sleep. But I do. But I have this paper. Ugh. I hope Bruce doesn't beat me up. Or kill me.

As sleepiness struck your eyes you did a quick YouTube search of how to check for cameras in a hotel room. The next fifteen minutes consisted of moving every single lamp, mirror, book, and looking into every lightbulb with a flashlight. You even tried a Bluetooth finder app, and nothing came up. It calmed you a bit that they weren't used to having guests, so they probably never thought about spying.

After half an hour of tossing and turning you realized you had to go to the restroom. You searched your thoughts for any memory of him mentioning any bathrooms. Jesus, did they even have any? You threw the covers off and padded across the cool marble flooring out into the hallway. There were no sounds aside from the occasional tick of a grandfather clock at the head of the grand staircase. Christ. It was downright terrifying being out here. How did Alfred not go crazy? You understood how Bruce lived here—it was probably why he was so grumpy.

You heard the sound of water coming from somewhere and wandered down to its origin—Bruce's room. Ear pressed to the door you heard the sound of a shower. Did he have the only bathroom in this place? Scurrying away from his room so as not to disrupt the prince in the dead of night, you opened every door on his floor to no avail (aside from his parent's, which you couldn't open even if you wanted to). You thought about running outside to pee in some random bush, then remembered the flooding. The house was so large you had entirely forgotten about it; storms didn't intimidate it.

After what felt like hours wandering around, you could barely hold it. You were gonna have to go back to his room. Ugh. You jogged up the stairs trying to be light on your feet as you thought you'd pee yourself. You lightly knocked, fear freezing you. It was late. You should have just gone to Alfred. Bruce would be pissed. No one was up right now, he could fuck you up in just a second... the door opened and you flinched away from it. You peered over at him standing shirtless in his doorway. He didn't look the least bit tired, which was confusing until you remembered he was fucking Batman. "Um. I need to use your restroom."

He stared at you like you were the strangest thing he'd ever seen and that was the strangest thing he'd ever heard. He gestured across the hall. "What about that one?"

You followed his gaze and saw a room behind one of the staircase pillars, covered in shadows. You wanted to bite back and tell him he hadn't shown you any bathroom during the house tour, but you had to pee SO badly. You rushed there as quickly as possible, trying not to think about how he was probably laughing at you hobbling around in the dark. The bathroom was surprisingly normal and bright, nothing much of note--as if you had any time to dawdle and inspect it in your fervor.

Once back in the bedroom assigned to you, you plucked around on your computer completely unable to sleep. You wrote random sentences about Bruce Wayne, trying to remember his answers as much as possible. You mused over whether or not Dr. Vry would want exact quotes, or if paraphrase would suffice... as you typed along blindly, you realized you would have to use exact quotes or no one would believe you. You went to reach for the water on your bedside and your fingers tripped on the voice recorder you'd forgotten about. The next hour was spent poring over the audio, replaying his snarky comments to you and his biting tone at you calling him Bruce.

"Sorry, I kept hearing my name called."

You woke up with a startle, your eyes going first to the strange ceiling, then the unfamiliar walls, finally to a tall, dark-haired man in the doorway. You wiped away sleep with your palms, slowly becoming aware of the looping interview too loud for comfort. You'd been asleep that long? Embarrassed, you fumbled around your blankets to find it, quickly silencing the offending speaker. Bruce was already turned around and headed out the door, and you threw the first words out of your mouth to try and regain some of your confidence. "I was up late working on my paper," You shouted once more. "I must've fallen asleep with it on."

He stilled briefly in the hall but didn't turn back around, striding down the hall as he said words you barely made out. "I think Alfred's made breakfast, anyway." It wasn't the most welcoming invitation--in fact, you could hardly call it one at all. He acted like a child forced to go wake up an annoying younger sibling, but you hardly cared with the grumbling in your stomach.

Sure enough, as you bounded down the stairs you smelled... breakfast. Eggs, bacon, waffles or pancakes? and hashbrowns, maple syrup, and... fresh baked bread. You peeked around the corner to see Bruce packing scrambled eggs onto his plate, and stood there waiting until he took his seat at the table. You didn't want to interact with him again; you were tired, and the idea of getting into an argument this early bummed you out. Still in yesterday's clothes, with dirty hair and no shoes besides heels, you felt disgraceful as you entered the kitchen. You smiled and thanked Alfred for preparing the food, all but rushing to the pancakes and hashbrowns. As you sat, Bruce stared down at his plate, all but scarfing down the food. He seemed to want to get out of there as quickly as possible, with no intention of making conversation.

You enjoyed your hashbrowns first, the crispy warmth helping you feel a bit more held in the cold, dingy tower. It was when Bruce was starting to get up to place his dish in the sink when you decided to dig into the pancakes. After the first bite you noticed a bit of tang; your brow furrowed and you set down your fork, taking great effort to slowly, yet successfully swallow. You let out a particularly hefty cough, which caught the attention of both men. You started sipping  water quickly, trying not to show your desperation. "Are you alright, Miss?" Alfred's soft lulling voice leaned closer to you. You blinked furiously, anxiety causing you to grip the bottom of the chair firmly. Your voice was higher and softer now as your throat swelled. "Is there, anything in the, I can't, peaches," you dove for the water again as it became harder and harder to speak. If you were at home you could have grabbed the Benadryl and this would be done with in about five minutes. Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh my god, my apologies, I used peaches to sweeten the mix." He rose quickly and bolted across the kitchen.

Bruce took a few steps toward you, eyes locked to above your shoulders, scanning your face, lips, throat. "Is something stuck?" He strode over to you and leaned in front of your face, listening to your breathing. It was becoming increasingly labored, but he trusted you shaking your head. You'd spoken, so you weren't choking. "How serious is it, do we, like, is there medicine here we can...?" He'd never seen anyone have an allergic reaction before. He knew people had died from it, but he also heard Alfred casually refer to his 'allergies' in the warmer months. Bruce thought about how they could possibly get you to the hospital, mapping ten different routes in his head trying to think how he could circumvent the flooding. Would the hospitals even be open? They had to be, right? But he'd tried to go out as Batman the night before and the streets had been rushing like a river with floodwater and sewage. He hadn't been able to make it down the last few steps in fear of being swept away.

"Jesus," He heard Alfred mutter. He rushed over clutching a faded bottle of medicine that looked at least a decade old. "I have this old children's Benadryl, we can give this a try." Alfred dosed out something and Bruce stared firmly at you as you anxiously sipped at water, struggling not to panic, feeling like you were breathing through nothing more than a straw. Even more than a droplet of water going down at once blocked your airway for a few seconds. Alfred handed you a small cup with purple-pink liquid, and you sipped it slowly, choking on the first few due to the thick consistency. Only four sips in, well more than half of the dose left, you put your elbows on the table and your head in your hands as your breathing rattled. "I can't breathe I can't breathe," you whined, fearful, hot tears pricking your eyes and streaming down your cold, clammy cheeks. Everything besides panic eluded you as you became hyperaware of your body.

Bruce was frustrated. Just drink the damn liquid. He stared for a few more seconds as your rattled, raspy breaths became increasingly shallow and grabbed your water, filling the rest of the small cup and using his finger to mix the two to make a thinner consistency. A gentle hand under your chin tilted it up and the cup was placed against your lips. "Drink." His voice was firm and encouraging. You shut your eyes, focusing on getting it into your system as quickly as possible as he slowly tipped the medicine in. You felt him tip further and further, and soon you swallowed the last of it.

Alfred couldn't help but stand back and watch him. Bruce's eyes were so trained on you, and his softness was surprising. It was what he'd done half a decade prior, back when Alfred had broken a few ribs falling down the main stairway. It was moments like these where he suspected Batman was more than just filling a role or continuing a legacy. He was suited for it. Compassion came more naturally to Bruce than he let on; he didn't miss the small sigh that escaped him when you'd swallowed the last bit of medicine.

You sat and heaved against the table, struggling to catch your breath as your throat flames began to calm—slowly, much too slowly, but your risk of asphyxiating was rapidly decreasing. As your breathing deepened Alfred let out a large sigh, setting the old bottle on the counter. "Thank god, this is from when you were a boy, Bruce.”

Sleepiness started to lull you, further proving the efficacy of the medicine. Bruce didn't look over at Alfred, still focused intently on your face for signs of distress.

You stood up slowly, after about a minute of silence as you grew more confident your throat wasn't swelling anymore. The post-Benadryl grogginess was amplified by your lack of sleep, and you excused yourself up to your room. You walked up a flight, took a right, and barely made it to bed before your eyes shut and you fell into deep, restorative slumber.

Bruce stayed downstairs to help Alfred put away breakfast. Alfred was distraught, muttering to himself self-flagellations about not checking for allergies. He excused himself from the old man's lamenting and said he was going to check on you. He jogged up the marble flights and stopped at the foot of your door with his hand hovered above your doorknob. Was this creepy? He didn't think so, but he didn't really have much experience with how a stranger would feel in this situation; it was only ever him and Alfred. Ultimately he decided it would be worse if you died in your sleep than felt embarrassed, opening your door to an empty room. His brow furrowed.

He padded down the stairs with suspicion that only intensified when he noticed his door was ajar. He lightly pushed it open to see you passed out on your side in the middle of his unmade bed. He bristled at the image, feeling deeply unsettled and vaguely nauseous. He turned to jog down the stairs and find some respite in one of the downstairs offices, but Alfred briefly interrupted as he head up the stairs. Alfred's gaze looked fleetingly toward Bruce's door, and he saw Y/N lying there. "Bruce." He chastised. "You better not be mad at the poor girl,"

He shook his head and nearly tripped trying to get down the stairs as quickly as possible. Alfred stayed on the same floor as you to check on your breathing every hour. After the third successful check, he wandered down to find Bruce in the basement tinkering on his motorcycle. He spoke as soon as he entered. "I'm serious about what I said, Bruce."

Bruce didn't hesitate. "It's just a bed. Nothing to be angry about." He continued messing with a janky wheel from turning too sharply the week before.

"I just figured with the way you've been acting toward her,"

"Like someone who blackmailed me?" He interrupted Alfred and pushed himself up to stare at the old man. He threw his hands in the air. "She's writing an exposé on me."

"Her? Why?" Alfred was dumbfounded, she'd seemed a bit sarcastic but nonetheless respectful. Why would you want to write a paper for school on Bruce? "Did you do something to her?"

Bruce shot a cold look his way. "Are you serious?" He shook his head and stormed to the elevator, hastily pressing UP. "I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up until she wakes."

Fateful Beginnings

XXXV. “bittersuite domesticity”

parts: previous / next

plot: you and Bruce bond, a task more pleasant than either of you anticipated.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, substance use, fluffy fluff 😏

words: 8.1k

a/n: i think y’all are gonna like this chapter 😇 yes the title is a play on words... iykyk (🎵)

Suddenly, idling at Rai’s had much higher stakes.

You tried to relax and peruse the back aisles, but more customers arrived. You got in line behind the older lady while Rai attended to his kind community member duty of speaking with her like an old friend. Elderly residents nearby weren’t able to get out much, and he picked up a lot of the slack. Except right now, that duty had you frustrated and overwhelmed in waiting, the grumble in your stomach starting to have a bite. At this point it had to have been fifteen minutes, meaning Bruce would be up in your apartment in fifteen… fuck.

You did a last circle around the store, eyes flitting between snacks, slushies, candies… You kept looking back trying to catch his eye, hoping he might get the hint and step aside for a second to help you. It wasn’t working, and your leg was beginning to sore. Glancing at her cart, they still had a bag or two to fill. Shit.

You grabbed a few extra candies and got in line behind her, resigning to stay put and let fate take over. Upon hearing the rustling of your items, she looked over her shoulder and grinned at you. “Skittles! Oh, I love those little things. Have you tried the sour ones? I keep them stocked for my grandson. Speaking of…” She held up a hand to Rai and wandered back to the candy aisle. Fate!

“Can you check me out really quick?” You showed your few items, and he nodded. “In a hurry, huh?”

“Yeah. Would you be able to grab me some uh,” You peered through the glass and saw the tabbouleh was out, and you chose the item falling into vision next. “Chicken tenders. Can I have half a pound?”

“Sure.” He bagged it, glancing as he closed the bag to see the woman arriving back. He handed it over and winked at you. “You can come back sometime this week and pay.”

”Really? I can—”

“Here you go.” The lady placed a few bags of sour skittles on the counter with a smirk. You nodded to Rai who nodded back, and after a quick thanks, hurried back up to your apartment. He’d be there in seven minutes. He seemed like the person who was usually early.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, it was the time of his arrival. You hoped he was caught up in traffic or something (not likely…) and tossed the food on the counter, the legs of the dining table scraping against the floor in the most grating fashion as you pulled it in front of the couch. Midway through unplugging the television in your room and prepping to carry it out, you heard a knock at the door. You hoisted the TV into your arms and staggered through the door to place it on the table, where it looked unseemly. On your way to let him in, you noticed you didn’t have an outlet nearby. Ugh.

Bruce had given himself a pep-talk on the drive, coaching himself on what to say to you. He knew he wanted to apologize, that much was extremely clear. He went back and forth on telling you the pity thing, because the revelation was genuinely so simple, but endowed crucial context…

It was starting to sprinkle; end of August meant Fall was practically a week away, which was a slippery slope to the highest crime events of the year. Going into 2024, he didn’t think he’d have to worry about an election for at least another year or two, and he wrestled back fears of another Election Night 2022 debacle.

Soon he’d be able to get back out there; usually this time of night he’d be headed down to the basement after a quick meal with Alfred. Drawing up some plans for the evening (that were usually disposed of due to unforeseen circumstances) before suiting up. He expected his body to feel more antsy to get back to it, or feel considerably slower, neither of which he did. His wounds were healing, his left leg still ached but nothing he couldn’t drag his mind away from. Tonight felt quiet. Nights like these invariably left him suspicious.

He waited a few minutes in his car, parking in the same alley he’d dropped you off in. His palms were starting to perspire, knowing he was going to answer to you in whichever way you held him. As much as he desired to spend the whole night stalling, that was his problem. He’d been avoiding you earlier, avoiding being cared about, and avoiding being caring. While he didn’t much care about the implications of isolation and avoidance as far as he was concerned, he didn’t like you being in the blast radius. If the hugs had told him anything, it was that you were already hurting more than enough. He was done putting you in jail for the crime of caring.

You deserved a proper apology, and that was what he’d give you.

Walking toward your apartment while the nightcrawlers were just getting started made him uneasy. Every man he passed on the sidewalk that looked down at his phone had him biting his cheek, gripping the fabric of his jacket pocket, enraged. Which of these pathetic freaks wrote about you?

As he reached your unit, the rage was dimming. When you opened the door, he noticed you looked tired, but not exhausted–that was good. You stepped aside for him to walk in, and he shed his top layers, fighting against his manufacturing to make sure the apology actually got past his lips.

Bruce was in a black outfit, with his usual thick jacket and hoodie pairing. Your body had an immediate response to his presence after the argument, reflexively turning away from him and stiffening. Locking the door behind him felt superfluous in his presence, but you did it anyway.

He removed his jacket and hoodie as he walked the expanse of your floor, draping them over the back of a chair. Your eyes searched his body for evidence of injury or duress, and for about the millionth time since you’d been around him or Alfred, you wished they didn’t read body language like the written word. His tone was soft, apprehensive. “I thought you might want some company.”

Thought I might want some company? You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms. “So you’re not in crisis?”

“You thought I was in crisis?”

You looked to the ground. “We argued again, so.”

He didn’t appreciate being perceived to the point of recognizing character changes, like how strange it was for him to request a movie night. He rarely asked it of his parents as a kid, their busy schedule leaving the invitation up to them on the rare occasion it ever came. Alfred was always the one to initiate after their deaths, but he’d stopped asking after the twentieth time Bruce had isolated to his bedroom instead.

Thinking back to how busy his mother had been, a thought struck him: were all the ‘vacations’ she went on actually her being admitted to Arkham? Had they hid it that well? Something must have flit across him then, because your eyes were darting across the plane of his face with increasing confusion.

He shook his head while he recovered words. Even thinking about the photos of his mother Riddler had posted didn’t render him as discomposed as this morning, when simply being around you felt like a knife lifting his nailbeds. Alfred had made some unfortunate points that painted you in a much better light. “I’m not in crisis. I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. I was avoiding you.”

You didn’t know why you got anxious when he said that, but you did. He put his hands in his pocket and struggled to make more than intermittent eye contact. He heaved a large sigh, which made you especially attuned to what he might say. Swore you could feel the hairs of your inner ear buzzing with anticipation.

“I appreciate you opening up to me.”

Hearing words like apologize and appreciate felt foreign from Bruce. You’d heard variations of them before, yet it remained uncanny. Like his mouth wasn’t used to forming the words. They didn’t seem to roll off his tongue.

“But…?” You braced yourself for him to assert that the two of you couldn’t speak anymore. That a boundary had been crossed. That he appreciated you opening up, but he didn’t want that to happen anymore. That he was glad to have helped you, but he didn’t want to make it a habit.

His brow cocked. “What do you mean?”

Your tone was petulant, brittle. “You appreciate my opening up, but ‘we don’t have to do this anymore’. Or maybe you’d rather ‘I don’t want it’?”

An extended silence, leaving a lot of room for your mind to fill the blank. Some time for your eyes to roam about his outfit, his hair, his face. The wear evident in his shirt, seeing some of his skin peeking through. A hole at the bottom of his left pocket. How he double-knotted his Converse.

When he spoke next, it was through closed eyes. “I’m not good at this. I’m not used to any of it.”

The hugs? The conversation? Being cared about? The whole city cared about him. The whole internet. In some ways, the whole world. “Used to what?”

“The only care people have shown me is through pity.”

You felt one of your defenses shatter, your shoulders becoming a bit lighter. “About your parents?”

He nodded, becoming sheepish. He detested being this open, it drained him, but he wanted to return the favor of your earlier vulnerability. “Yeah. Everyone still looks at me like I’m that kid. No one saw me, they saw what happened to me.” And you saw me hung unsaid, on the edge of his teeth. “You checking on me and opening up felt like pity. Everything does.”

It felt fucking weird to use his words like this. His voice was going dry from talking so much, even though he really hadn’t talked much at all. Maybe it was the things he wasn’t saying. He wanted to look over at you, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins at feeling exposed was excruciating. If he looked at you right now before you spoke, he’d fill in the blanks. The valley between his share and your response felt painfully raw.

You said what you thought, your mind thunking the pieces into place plainly and neatly. “That makes sense. I never thought about that.” It wasn’t the most flowery response, but you noticed his shoulders stop tensing. “I’m sorry if I played into that.” You sighed, feeling like you should’ve put the pieces together sooner yourself, without him having to hand it to you on a platter. Hmm. Why might someone who endured a national tragedy as a child be annoyed with people’s concern?

The sound of a knock at the door startled you. You and Bruce exchanged a look, and you backed off while he walked to the peephole. It was then that you realized you hadn’t checked it before opening it earlier, assuming it was him. You couldn’t forget again.

His hair rustled against his forehead as he turned around. “It’s Gordon. Probably here for your statement.”

“You can hide in my room.”

He walked into it and shut the door seconds before you opened to two officers, only one of whom you’d seen before.

“Is this the residence of Y/N Y/L/N?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Detective Gordon, as you could see via his badge, stepped in alongside a mustached officer. Martinez was his name tag. “We’re here to collect your statement on the assault that occurred 28th of August, on the corner of Bushnel and Tally. I’d ask if now is a good time, but we’re already late to collect, our apologies.”

You invited them in and tried to play off that they had nowhere to sit. “I’m waiting on some new furniture,”

Det. Gordon shook his head, taking out a notepad. “All good, ma’am. We should be no longer than a few minutes.”

And a long few minutes it had been. They asked only the most basic of questions, such as where he kicked you, any words he said, any threats he made, and if you were aware of any prior history between you and the assailant. Martinez held up a camera, asking if there were any visible injuries. You held out your hands initially, seeing the scabs on top of the knuckles, but you’d forgotten if they’d come more from trying to stop Bruce than the man himself. You stuck to showing them the bruise on your thigh, which you hadn’t had the chance to look at. Deep red, purple and gravelly, looking like you’d been skidding against the sidewalk. You figured falling out of his vehicle didn’t help.

Surprisingly, they knew about that too. You figured a certain vigilante had been the informant.

“Let me summarize to make sure we’re on the same page.” Det. Gordon flipped a few pages back, adjusting his glasses. Martinez was looking at the ground in front of him, his hand situated on his hip. He seemed to only be here for backup, maybe they had to come to these things in pairs. “Wednesday evening, you received a call from…” His voice dulled as he recited the events in perfect detail, each additional sentence drilling into you how intense the past two days had been. After what felt like a lifetime, he finished. “Is that correct?”

You nodded, your throat closing. Bruce had really saved you twice in forty-eight hours. Probably an attempt to cope, you thought about how Walter never had to worry about anything like this.

“I need verbal confirmation, ma’am.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Det. Gordon sighed, scribbling something else. “Looks like we’ll need to pay Mr. Wayne a visit.” Martinez perked at the statement, and you suppressed the ghost of a laugh. If only he knew Bruce was in the next room.

Det. Gordon closed his notebook, tucking the pen into the spiral. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Y/L/N. We’ll get back to you sometime in the next week with further details. Sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, sorry that happened.” Officer Martinez tipped his hat at you in apology, following behind Det. Gordon, gently shutting the door. Not three seconds later did Bruce step out of your bedroom, face contorted in serious consideration.

“It never takes them that long to get a statement. Something big must have happened.” You could see in his eyes he was thumbing through all sorts of information in the back of his head. You giggled, a sound Bruce didn’t find completely unusual (everyone had different reactions to traumatic events, after all), but the sound itself embedded in his chest. You laughed again, and it pushed deeper. “What?”

“You just look so serious.” Another laugh slipped out, which snowballed into a laughing fit. Bruce wondered if you might start crying again, like you had the last time you laughed in front of him like this, but you didn’t, doubling over in bursts of giggles. His body was a disorienting blend of feelings in response.

When you opened your eyes after gathering yourself, your vision was hazy, your head a bit dizzy. Your chest felt light, and your eyes caught on the tenders sitting to your right on the countertop, your stomach grumbling. You fished one out of the bag, your eyes rolling back at its decadence. God, so fucking good!

Oh, fuck. You’d taken an edible an hour ago. You didn’t think you’d taken that much.

Bruce side-eyed you, having averted his eyes after feeling his stomach jump at the rolling of yours— suspicious of how quickly your face had fallen and how fast you moved from task to task. “Are you o—”

“I took an edible. Right before you called, I forgot.” You cracked a laugh at the absurdity of it all, unable to contain the humor bubbling inside, but quieted yourself by focusing on eating the food. Your stomach was like an empty pit. You finished eating your singular chicken tender without further accidental innuendo, and became worrying, serious. Your shoulders deflated. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to be around someone high, I know you don’t do substances, it’s probably weird,”

He interrupted with something he hoped might break you out of your slumped state, because he didn’t feel weird. “I actually took some of the edible you gave me back in spring.” As expected, your face lit up… with confusion, and awe.

“You said you never do them.”

“It was an interesting night.” You didn’t need to know that was precisely when he’d decided his persona, developing it while his brain was slow and the world was blurred. You sat in thought for a moment.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with being around someone who is.”

“I’m more concerned if you are comfortable with it.” He’d noticed the TV wasn’t plugged in, but before moseying over to try and find a plug, he wanted your answer.

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. We’re just watching a movie or whatever.” You messed around in the bag some more, procuring a bag of Skittles. He hadn’t had one of those since he was a kid.

Even lacking sobriety, your perception skills remained intact. You held the bag out to him. “Have some.”

He took the bag and opened it, pouring a few into his palm. You dug around some more, the sound of thin rustling plastic filling the silence, and pulled a pouch of Sour Patch Kids. He didn’t know if he’d ever tried those.

You opened the bag and each ate some handfuls of the respective candies in silence, your face puckering a bit at the sour sting. Bruce noticed a small bottle of rosé in the corner by the bread cabinet, unopened. It was far from the best idea on a night like this, both inebriated, a day after a man had threatened to have you killed, but he gestured to it regardless. “Mind if I have some?”

“Don’t just have some because I’m high, dude.” You popped another candy in your mouth. Bruce shrugged and walked toward it. You shook your head, but with his back turned he couldn’t tell, forcing you to voice your concerns. “Seriously.” Your tone fell from its casual cadence to a darker tone, firmer. “You said you never do it,”

“I’ve had alcohol before, I’ll manage.” As he approached the bottle, he hadn’t quite known what had possessed him, but as his ears attuned to the rustle of the plastic and his eyes acclimated to the physical space, he realized he felt more free. If he drank at home, he’d either have to be alone in his room or in the kitchen with Alfred. He could never at a social event, because he didn’t attend them to be social, he attended them to analyze. Letting anything lower his inhibitions around the likes of Convoy and Gavenstein wasn’t an option. However, now it felt fun. He grabbed the neck of the bottle, and you spoke with a start.

“Wait, your meds. Can you drink on them? Will it make your symptoms worse?”

Bruce recalled a ‘use caution when consuming alcohol’ warning on the outside of the bottle. It didn’t say no… “Should be fine, won’t have too much.”

“Bruce.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, your face knit with worry; it ruffled him, but he blocked his thoughts before they became too rigid. This isn’t pity, this is concern. Concern was borne of care. You cared. Instead of turning away, he’d care back. He hummed on ideas for a shake. “Would it make you feel better if I called Crane?”

You nodded, bewildered that his tone bore no sarcasm or annoyance. He took out his phone, and you counted the subtle rings barely heard on the other end. Dr. Crane picked up after two. You couldn’t hear his voice, too muffled, but you could hear Bruce’s.

“It’s Bruce, yeah. I had a question about my medication.”

You watched as he pressed the phone to his ear, how he slowly meandered around the kitchen, looking at his shoes as he spoke. Warmth flooded you seeing him seem perfectly fine. This was the first time neither of you had been in crisis since. All you were going to do was watch a movie. No trying to stop him from hurting himself, no worrying about where he was, or what he was doing, none of him saving you.

Bruce hung up, thwarting your daydream. “Should be fine. Are you fine with it?”

You met his steady, bright blue eyes and felt a jolt in your chest, like falling down the stairs in a dream. You looked down at the bag from Rai’s, the red THANK YOU in copied prose crinkling about. “Yeah.” You shoved the feeling away, cracking a joke instead. “If you’re fine with not having million-dollar wine.”

He chuckled, the same way he had when he held you. Mostly internal, through his nose, his chest moving more than anything else. You studied him unwrapping the lid, reaching into his pocket for his keys that, of course, had a pocket knife attached. Watching him uncork it put you in a trance; the subtle ripple of his back with the movement, the pop of the cork coming undone beneath his fingers.

You’d been curiously silent behind him; when he finished opening the bottle he turned around, meeting your half-lidded eyes. Your head was in your hands, framing a sleepy grin. His stomach lurched, fluffs of anxiety toiling within it. The last time he’d felt this way was when Selina had unexpectedly kissed him. Confusing to have it appear now, in such a different context.

He channeled his focus instead on finding a glass. You didn’t have any flutes, but he withheld a joke about it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or come across pompous. He poured a hefty glass, his wrist tipping further the more he felt your eyes on him.

The high created a delayed reaction, and you realized too late that he’d watched you gawking. Gawking? Was that what you were doing? You grabbed another tender and your juice before turning around to scoot the table closer to the outlet, desperate to shake off whatever stupor you’d been unconsciously put under.

Bruce would’ve jumped in to help, but he thought the distance would be good right now. He didn’t like the way his attention pulled toward you, or the way his hands shivered around the glass. Thankfully, his voice was unaffected. “Anything you had in mind to watch?”

You finally plugged the cord into the wall, and unceremoniously plopped onto the far side of the couch, leaving the whole right side open. “You can pick.” A wash of relief settled over you at having been the first to sit, not wanting to be the one to gauge how close to get if he’d sat first. Bruce wandered over with his very full glass of wine, and sat about a foot away. It still felt too congested.

“I got nothing.” He adjusted into the cushions, taking his first sip of wine. His left side was lit like a live wire.

You turned on the TV and flipped through some channels while he sipped. You had to force your eyes to remain strictly contained to the screen, a task that was monumentally difficult through the peak of your edible. “There’s this one show everyone’s talking about online. We could try watching the first episode, it’s like an hour.”

Bruce nodded, resting his hand with the glass on his right thigh. “Sure.”

You clicked it, thanking the ultra-fast wifi in the building for an immediate loading. You might have died if you had to stare too long at a black screen, the uncomfortable portrait of you sitting together reflecting back.

You both sat like that for the duration of the episode; in silence, with the occasional sip from Bruce. The first half was one of the more awkward things you’d experienced; you were acutely aware of how high you were, and how alone you were with him. You’d nearly taken double the dose earlier, and you probably would’ve freaked the fuck out if you had.

About halfway through the episode, you began to get sucked into the show—in a bad way. The acting was terrible, absolutely piss-poor; this resulted in a few sideways glances to Bruce which he reciprocated, each time his cheeks becoming a little more flushed from the alcohol. As the episode ended, you became one with the couch, the high beginning to taper, and your nerves the same. Bruce was about three-quarters done with his drink, probably the equivalent of one and a half shots if he downed the last bit.

As the first episode’s credits ran, you sat in a dumbfounded hypnosis. This was what everyone had been raving about? Huh? Your high’s slow descent left you less inhibited. “…That was so fucking bad.”

Buce nearly choked on his wine, evidently having taken a sip just as you spoke. You turned toward him. “You don’t agree?!”

He shook his head, licking his lips to catch the drops of wine that’d escaped in his almost-coughing recovery. His voice was more animated than you’d heard it before. “I was hoping you wouldn’t click ‘next episode’.”

A second of silence and you both laughed, his cheeks moving from a light rose to sunburn in tandem. He gave the impression of a lightweight; for once not drinking with Mar, you weren’t the least liquor-experienced. His laugh was cute, more full than you’d anticipated, but you could barely hear it over your own. “I don’t know how people can stand it.”

He stuck his hand out to the TV, his brow furrowed with such pure befuddlement you started laughing again, to which he giggled through his next sentence. “The officer was so obvious. Anyone with half a brain would’ve figured it out… is that the premise of the show? Whodunnit?”

“I thought it was the unassuming friend, I thought that was obvious.”

Bruce’s hand slapped to his thigh, his head cocking toward yours with a gentle eyeroll. “You’re joking.”

“Let’s go to the last episode! I’ll be right.” You grabbed the remote and clicked through the fifteen episodes between, each click evoking a scoff from him.

“The friend would be so cliche.”

So disdainful for someone wrong. “And the suspicious officer wouldn’t be? It’s so on the nose.” You clicked PLAY, now taking a while to load up.

“Which would make someone overlook it, like you’re doing now.”

“Alright detective.”

The episode opened to a black screen fading in, showing someone’s hands, lingering there, the metal handcuffs clinking. You and Bruce sat forward in your seats as it panned up to reveal the friend in custody.

“I TOLD YOU!” You paused the show and tossed the remote aside, gloating.

Bruce smirked, taking another sip of wine. “What if it’s a fake out?”

You’d never pulled out your phone so fast, and shoved it in his face when it confirmed your suspicions. “Hmm!”

“Alright, alright.”

“Hand over the baton, bucko.”

He side-eyed you, his mouth curling into an amused smirk. “‘Bucko’?”

“Can’t believe I outsmarted the ‘world’s greatest detective’.” As soon as the words passed your lips, the reality set in of who you were sitting next to, and anxiety nipped at your skin again. It was easy for you to dismiss his power when you were angry at him, or begrudging about it; when he had all your systems activated, wanting to run, scream, fight. Not when your guard was down, and you were under a green haze. Not when he was sitting comfortably on your couch.

“Suit might be a little short for you.”

His attempt at humor shocked your nerves again, dulling them. “Didn’t know you were capable of making a joke.”

He grinned, cocking an eyebrow as he sipped the rest of the wine. You’d never imagined him this relaxed. His shoulders down not from defeat, but relaxation; his eyes half-lidded not from desperation, or succumbing to whatever darkness lay within him, but wine’s subtle embrace. Even his legs were more splayed out, casting their net wider, his normally chiseled jawline dulled as his head sank into the back cushion.

You liked him like this, and felt braver. You sat back against the couch to match, tilting your head toward him, his already tilted toward you. “So what else does Bruce Wayne do?”

He looked confused.

“Public you. Do you just go to City Hall meetings, occasionally a shopping spree that totally isn’t a photo-op?”

He chuckled under his breath, his words coming out a little slower. Whoa, you really liked making him laugh. You wet your lips, subconsciously shifting nearer. “About to go to campaign events.” He met your eyes again, an act that was rapidly becoming a slippery slope. Every time he did it you felt more and more comfortable there. “What about you?”

“Campaign things? Yeah, I don’t have much else to do. I’ll try to be at every event.”

“You’re genuinely interested in Gotham politics?”

“Would I rather be home? Maybe, but it’s fascinating. The fact it got sprung on so quickly…”

“Been meaning to pay Reál a visit.” He stayed looking at you the entire time, and you drank up every second of it.

“I was thinking that too.” You mimicked his earlier laugh without conscious awareness. “If only we could pair up. Alas…”

He shrugged, the ripples in his shirt moving with his shoulders. “We could.”

You laughed again; whether it was the weed or his more friendly company, you’d figure later. “No way.”

“You could chaperone my visits. Be my transcriber.” He grinned at you, not giving away how much of it was a joke.

You rolled your eyes at him, playfully. “That’d be making me your personal assistant, Bruce.”

He liked when you said his name. “Guess you’re right, Y/N.”

A few seconds of silence rattled around your chest like a ping-pong ball. “If that happened, shit. Whatever credibility I have left would tank.” You looked at the screen, still paused on the friend’s form in the striped outfit.

“Don’t want that.”

You stared at each other, then busted laughing again. It felt different than how Dr. Vry had sneered at you in the meeting, mocking the notion of you having a name to protect; this was harmless, and if you hadn’t already picked up on it, you could tell by his smiling glances between laughs. Mmm, this wasn’t…

Wanting to ask him this since the candidates were first announced but never having the opportunity, you shot your shot after the din lowered. You grasped for anything platonic to settle the rhapsody that threatened to overwhelm you. “Which candidate are you liking?”

Bruce shot you another look, making your stomach flip. He was teasing. “You care about the billionaire’s opinion on city politics?”

“I am rubbing off on you!” You beamed.

He rolled his eyes in that same way, the grin sneaking into your eyes filling his chest like a balloon. He could hardly breathe around it. “I won’t endorse.”

You squinted. “Why not?”

“People could think whoever I endorse paid me off. Could have the opposite effect.”

You nodded, pondering it for a second. You were more relieved than you’d let on. “That’s better than what I thought your reasoning was. Thought I’d have to fight you.”

“And what did you think it was?”

“Some apolitical bullshit.”

He sighed, the whisper of a smile on his cheeks lifting it nearly into a laugh. “For someone who acts like they know me so well,”

“And when did I claim to?” This was the most pleasant ‘argument’ you’d ever had.

“Maybe it’s more your tone.” You could’ve sworn he winked at you.

This conversation had the aura of a flotation device; barely holding you both afloat. “I don’t know how I feel about a man talking about my tone. Especially one as sunshiney as you.”

“Touché.”

Laughter filled the room again. It was becoming easier and easier now, like a contagion. Bruce lightened his inflection, making it almost sing-songy. “What about you? Who do you like?” You held in a laugh that would’ve projected flecks of spit across the room. You felt ridiculous, and weird, alongside such vast enjoyment. You never, ever thought his company could be so agreeable.

“Only barely looked into them, but March seems about as stellar as a politician can be.” You were surprised you could still think so clearly; usually by this point of the edible, you were crashing into your pillow. His presence tonight was captivating, and you held back a flash of panic having thought that.

You hadn’t been looking at him, holding in a laugh having forced you to stare at his frayed black shoes, but you caught him laughing in your periphery, shaking his head. Your suspicious glare prompted him to elaborate. “You missed when he came to a meeting, it was like you were speaking through his body.”

“Now look who claims to know me so well!”

“That’s right, you hate the idea of taxing the rich and using the funds to help the less fortunate.”

You blushed, biting back a wide grin. “You’re so annoying.”

“Mmhmm.”

You gave him a once over while he checked his phone, mulling over how this simultaneously felt incredibly natural and out of character for him. Was this one of the ‘last good days’ people talked about? What Dr. Crane told you to look out for? An unusually elevated and expansive mood, inevitably leading to a crash, or signaling a resignation to the end? You didn’t want to kill the vibe, but felt that same pull to be the responsible one. “Really, are you okay?”

Bruce attuned to the shift in your body language as if it were his own. His knee-jerk response was to deny and reassure you he was fine. Truly, he wanted to tell you to stop asking him, and stop concerning yourself with his wellbeing. The alcohol had infiltrated, his walls dropping with far less resistance than usual, allowing him to start thinking through the tunnels of emotion without much fight. He felt okay right now, unnervingly so, but when he thought back to going home, about stepping out of the confines of these walls, it all felt heavier.

“It’s okay if you’re not. I’m not fine, either.”

He glanced over at you, your eyes blinking more than usual from the marijuana, slightly unfocused, but trying. He looked at his hands in his lap, fiddling with the tip of his pinky.

“And you don’t have to share because you think you owe it to me.”

Any other day he would’ve bristled at such blatant concern, but right now it cocooned him in comfort. Made his cheeks warmer than they already felt. He recalled your head snapping to the conference door when he’d slipped into his Batman modulation, an action that had him staring at you too long, only half-hearing Gordon on the other end. Had his breath catch before leaving.

“I want to. It’s just new to me. Talking, socializing, parading those rooms.” That physical pain returned to him, and he gestured to you. “Someone knowing besides Alfred. And the mental stuff.”

He expected you to be bored, for your eyes to have glazed over, but your attention was eager. You weren’t even wringing your hands together as you usually were. You spoke gently, but in a fashion nowhere similar to coddling. He wanted to lean closer to you.

“How’s that been?”

His chest puffed with a sharp breath, the rosé swirling in his gut. “No more owls, if that’s what you’re asking. The medication’s been fine, makes me feel a bit jittery, not hungry. That’s about it.”

“It’s gotta be hard to adjust to.”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak. You spoke first.

“You’re also under the influence, I don’t want you to regret sharing anything.” Now you wrung your hands together.

His eyes searched yours, continuously floored at how often you chose the response least expected. No one else would look out for him like this. None of the people at City Hall, at least. No one in any rooms he’d ever been in. The next words out of his mouth spilled from unadulterated confusion, unable to scour his mind for an obvious answer. “How are you able to do that?”

His brows were knit together tight, all semblance of humor gone. Your voice was softer. “Do what?”

“Look past my reputation.”

You didn’t know how much he’d like the answer, but you said it anyway. “I guess I don’t idolize that stuff. Supreme wealth and influence. I actually hate it.”

“What makes you hate it?” He leaned closer to you, feeling the strongest pull to completely unravel you like a spool of thread.

You noted his swerve from questions about his wellbeing, but didn’t tempt it again. You’d given him an out for a reason. You kept to task, shifting your body toward his without thought. “I don’t like hoarding resources when so many people are without.”

“That’s why you’re watching a movie with him.” You were like a hearth, warm, bright, and he wanted to keep adding kindling.

“Touché.” You grinned, hoping he wouldn’t see the color brought to your ears, but resigned to the reality he undoubtedly did. “I do hate that about you.”

“Would it help if I hated it too?”

“But you’re still not doing anything about it.”

Even when you were interrogating him, listing off his inadequacies, it didn’t dampen the hospitality he felt toward you. He didn’t even care it felt disorienting to admit he liked it. Alcohol was a dangerous drug, his eyes in a constant deliberation between focusing on yours or your lips. “What do you think I should do?”

“You really want to hear it?”

He nodded. He could listen to you talk all night.

You released a sigh from the bottom of your lungs. You floored it without thought for how it might come out with your jumbled, free-flowing mind right now. “I think people should be housed. Given food, access to resources. Like actual access, not handing them a paper or telling them a phone line when half of them don’t have phones. There are more empty apartments in the city than people houseless.”

Damn. “Really?” You were so passionate about this… it was enchanting.

“Yes.”

“So, subsidizing those units?” He’d hand you his card right now. He’d do just about anything you asked right now, his focus growing increasingly singular, the room crowding.

You nodded. “Making it free until people get on their feet. Work with the next mayor to draw up a new budget.”

Underneath the bloom of the alcohol, he felt himself beginning to simmer. He sat back a little. “And what if they just want to loiter?”

“What if they deserve to?”

Bruce didn’t have a response, thrown yet another curveball by you.

“Wouldn’t you want to relax and recover if you spent the last few years out on the streets, and you finally had a shower and a warm bed that’s all yours? A kitchen with food? We could partner with local charities and businesses to provide food and stubs.”

We. His mind zoomed on it like a magnifying glass. He shifted his weight, feeling unsettled. This was verging on a massive argument, tempting a trigger on his fight or flight, your conversation yanking him in opposing directions. “What about people with criminal convictions?”

“Your moral compass needs some nuance.”

Bruce bristled, the thought of criminals being handed a check to live comfortably off the government feeling as wrong as kicking a puppy. What did criminals do to deserve comfort, safety? They’d taken his parents from…

Something flashed across Bruce’s face for only a millisecond, his shoulders slumping. His brows knit together, barely, like a half-formed thought. He scanned the ground in front of him before subtly clearing his throat.

They hadn’t taken his parents from him. One person had. One man pulling the trigger. Christ.. He blinked a few times, vowing to dig into it more later. Something about the greater revelation hidden inside made that thought feel like the inaugural brick.

Thankfully, all he had to do to abandon the thought was focus back on you. The alcohol rendered his ruminations less sticky, but you stickier. He was starting to recognize the contours of your face. His initial balk melted into trust. “Nuance. I’m listening.”

His gaze falling on you was beginning to feel like a third place. Maybe a first. “You’re actually listening to me?”

Your pleasant surprise did heavy-lifting on the mood. He razzed. “Guess it’s the alcohol.”

You paused before sinking into his capturing charm, fretting over how out of character this was. Mood lability was one of the terms Dr. Crane had taught you, but before you could get too wrapped up in your thoughts, Bruce pulled you out of the early waves like a trained lifeguard. He positioned his body toward you, leaning even closer, tilting his head to better meet your wandering eyes. The second he tethered you there, he let down the anchor. “I’m safe.” He nodded slowly, just enough for you to register it.

Soft ebbs of his wine-tinged breath caressed your nose. You looked away, but his lullaby ‘hey’ drew your eyes back. He nodded firmer now. “I promise.”

You bit your lip, tears studding the rim of your eyes.

“I’ll keep promising until you believe me.”

Instead of the whimper that wanted to escape, a single tear fell, and his eyes followed it until it dripped off your chin.

“I don’t take your trust lightly.”

He’s so sweet like this. Another tear, overwhelming sensations swinging on monkey bars in your chest cavity. You brushed it off with the back of your palm, shaking out your hands as much as you could in the small space between you. His focused attention felt permeating, like standing too close to the sun. You let out an embarrassed laugh, struggling to play off your emotionality. “I know every time you bring it up I start crying, and I don’t know why, but. I can handle it. I want to be a resource.”

He mused on that a moment, the only evidence of it being the subtle shifts of his eyes focusing on yours. “If I ever feel like that, I’ll call you.” He measured your reaction with a fine-toothed comb, not wanting to ask too much, needing to straddle the line between comforting you and burdening. You nodded and withdrew your phone from your pocket, leaving him swimming in repose.

You handed him your phone on the New Contact page, and you watched as he input his number. Your breathing was deep and shallow altogether, confused, like the tendrils of flame that scorned your stomach lining as your eyes outlined the shadows of his hair across his forehead, like the electricity that zapped your nervous system when he spoke to you like that, the undulating depth of his blue eyes…

You busied yourself flipping through more streaming channels. Another popular show made you click, this time one Mar had personally recommended. He handed the phone back, glancing at the TV. He didn’t want to watch anything right now, he wanted to keep talking to you. But he didn’t really want you to keep feeling upset, either. He nodded for you to press PLAY.

It started how any flashy drama does, with a wild cold open. Your attention followed the commotion, flashing to a scene in a silent office. Pretty soon, the screen fuzzed out to unintelligible static. Tears streamed down your cheeks from the emotion of the scene, and Bruce leaned closer. His voice was hot in your ear, peppering goosebumps across your skin. “Let me.”

He pressed his lips to your cheeks, kissing away your tears. The clip of your heart thundering in your chest had you gasping at the contact, pushing yourself up to your knees to bring your mouth to his. His lips were soft and enveloping, turning your gasps into panting whines. His cologne squeezed your throat, leaving you breathless.

“Y/N…” he moaned your name into your mouth, a sound that went straight between your thighs. Your phone thudded against the ground, freeing up your hands to thread through his hair. The sounds he was making… Your arms collided, both having the same idea at the same time to pull the other’s shirt off.

Just as his shirt pulled over his head, you opened your eyes, jolting up. You felt your phone slide from your thigh to the couch cushion, still open to New Contact: Bruce. He rustled beside you, blinking slowly back into the room. You both looked entirely unmussed, a foot away. Everything still intact. You both had dozed off, apparently.

It was a fucking dream.

Looking at the screen showed you’d both been out for around half an hour, the show playing on. He ran a hand through his hair, stretching his neck from side to side while he yawned. You averted your eyes in case he could beam into your thoughts. “Um, I need to pee.” You gulped and rose unsteadily to your feet, all but racing to your bedroom.

You rested your forehead against the door once it shut, a gasp of breath leaving you. You twitched hard at the ghost of his lips on your neck, shaking your head while you ran to the bathroom, running ice water in the sink. You cooled your hot hands and placed them on the back of your neck and cheeks, letting your eyes shut.

Dreams are strange. Fickle and unintelligible. The coolness was bringing you back down, settling your heart rate before you inevitably passed out. You spent another few minutes there, avoiding your hair as much as possible as you tethered yourself with each press of your fingers to your face. You shook your hands out, jumping in place. Whew. The images and sensations were fading safely into obscurity, the temperature defogging the haze of your high.

Padding back to your bedroom showed the time to be around ten. The nap had only made you more tired. When you walked back out you focused on your kitchen island, ignoring the giant, screaming, flashing lights coming from the couch. You yawned, and he got up in response. “We fell asleep quick. Don’t know what that says about the show.” He said it so casually, but your mind was positively tumbling all over itself. You nodded, your mouth drying.

You weren’t aware that he was internally stewing over how seamlessly he’d followed your lead once you’d passed out, and all of the embarrassment that was following now that he was awake. He didn’t know that you were holding in a scream.

You brightened so he wouldn’t pry, watching him stretch himself more alert. “I know, I guess the week caught up with me!” Forced to look at him, you clamped your teeth against your tongue in preparation. It was needed.

“I’ll walk. Text you when I make it back?” He wanted to get ahead of your anxieties, knowing if the roles were reversed he’d demand it of you. He simpered. How egalitarian.

“Oh uh, yeah! I’ll text you when I get to bed.” Suggestive. “So you can have my number.” The recovery was far from smooth, but you were struggling to capture an impossible feat of looking at him but not perceiving him. He gave a small thumbs-up as he pulled the hoodie over his head and buttoned his jacket. Once his back was turned toward the door it was easier, but not by much.

He opened the door, peeking over his shoulder. “That was fun.”

“It was nice to have company. Even if it was yours.” In anguish, you clawed back to jests in a futile attempt at normalcy.

He laughed under his breath once more. “Even if it was yours.” His barely-there grin was the last thing you saw before the night crashed to an end.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Imagine being in a ground filled with students from several colleges. Some are dancing, some are clicking pictures while some are waiting for the concert to start as it is already setting late, time is around 7:45 PM. You and your friends are with some other friends that you newly made who are from the same college in which the concert is being held. More and more students starts to come into the crowd, waiting for the night party to start and due to which everyone including your group is getting pushed from left, right, behind and front (but it isn’t that rough), so one of your new ‘I see him just like my friend’ who is 6,1 have deep voice, wear glasses, with calm demeanour wearing black jeans, white T-shirt not to tight nor to loose just perfect and a dark navy blue denim jacket, hair pretty long that front strands are reaching his glasses which is making him push it back- this is something which made your butterfly go and start having babies. What made it even crazier is when his hands, those damm veiny hands came near your waist; not too close, not too far just enough to make you feel its presence. Your breath gets stuck when he tried to avoid any sort of rough push that was coming towards you and what made several butterflies in you fly to their highest peak is when someone accidentally pushed you and your back hit his chest, you remain in that ‘comfy-&-awkward’ posture for about 1-2 minutes. You don’t know what to do as there is crowd and you cannot push someone as it might look that you were actually affected by it which according to would embarrass you in front of him. Now the butterflies are setting their village in you, those accidental eye contacts that you made with him took your thoughts to next level of imagination, him bending down to listen to you when you wanted to tell him as the sound was too loud and that one eye contact you had when his face was just few inches away from you.

You feel like that you shouldn’t be feeling for him, as it will be first and last time you are meeting him. When you came to know about him being vice-head of the event that was being held is college, him having a entire page for his artwork, him being so calm and ‘I am listening talk as much as you want’ typa person.

(Idk what I wrote 😔😟but yea if this bs killed your butterflies then apologies and prayers)

You have not felt true tension until you've had a Sociology Lecture on slash fiction with a room full of 19-22 y. o. students, held by a 60+ y. o. lecturer.

me: listens for the first time to "Partition" by Beyonce

comes 2.04

also me: flashbacks