#yes i read a book about stained glass 101 and the first thing i thought was draco working with glass yessir

[joonkorre]

The Winner Takes ____?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: the winner takes it all - abba

A Pyrrhic victory (/ˈpɪrɪk/ ( listen) PIRR-ik) is a victory that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor that it is tantamount to defeat. A Pyrrhic victory takes a heavy toll that negates any true sense of achievement or damages long-term progress. (source: Wikipedia). AO3

“You said there’s something we have to discuss.”

Harry nods, suppressing a shiver. It’s cold out, middle of November, and one touch of Draco’s hand is enough to tell Harry that he’s fresh from the shop, sweaty and too warm. Squeezing the palm on his shoulder, he smiles up at Draco. The man watches at his expression for a second before retrieving his hand from Harry’s grasp.

He never does that. They always have to connect in some way, usually with over-the-table handholding.

Ah, Harry forgets; he started the habit in the first place.

“Alright,” Draco seats himself on the armchair, not eating the neatly arranged biscuits on the table, his favorite. Not even glancing at them.

“Let’s discuss.”

So Harry discusses. In better words, he talks and talks with no answer. What Hermione made him promise to say—even sat down and wrote a speech for him to remember—swirls in his head, syllables that don’t make noise, phrases that don’t make sense.

The flames in the fireplace crackle, a flare of heat and a pop of sound. A waterfall of pale-blonde hair, blue eyes that have lost their sparks, telling him that this has gone too far. Dean’s already paid, then Seamus, then Lavender, then most of the Gryffindor alumni. A bet between two festering into a conspiracy between all.

Molly’s shown him a picture of them on the front page and asked if he was sure. He’s only smiled, said ‘yes,’ and, unfortunately, meant it. Harry’s gone above and beyond for a couple of coins, to the point where he worries about abandoning what he’s worked so hard to cultivate.

“I grew a flower that can’t be bloomed in a dream that can’t come true,” croons a singer in a song Teddy likes these days. Harry wonders if Ron’s also heard of that song, so he could use it to snap Harry out of his delusion.

Harry takes a deep breath.

Everything he has to say has been painstakingly scrubbed out of him, scratching his throat raw and robbing him of air. At this point, he wonders if Hermione was right, that feigning disinterest and focusing on a promotion to work in Switzerland is better than being honest.

Draco’s eyes haven’t left Harry’s face throughout the explanation, and he doesn’t open his mouth once. Harry wishes he’d say something, do something other than bouncing his heel ever so often.

The tea’s gone cold when Harry takes a sip, giving his throat some relief. He waits.

Draco raises a hand from the armrest, calloused and huge. His index finger taps a stubbled cheek. Harry knows that finger, is familiar with its uncanny smoothness. Draco’s told him of the vicious accident that burned off three of his fingerprints during his time as an apprentice, a lesson to learn and a story to recount. Harry’s liked to rub them just because, and Draco’s let him with an indulgent smile.

“Okay.”

Harry blinks. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Draco uncrosses his legs. “Let’s break up.”

“Oh,” Harry says, “that’s all?”

Draco spreads his hands and purses his lips, brows high on his forehead. “What more do you want me to say?”

Harry watches him brush nonexistent dust off his jean-clad knees and stand up.

“I don’t—you don’t have to say anything.”

“Good to know,” Draco grabs a handful of Floo powder. “I’m going to Pansy’s.”

“But you haven’t changed yet,” Harry frowns. Pansy loves people she considers hers dearly, but if one doesn’t at least attempt to look put-together, they can’t step a foot into her house without it getting chopped off.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be worrying about my clothes, Harry,” Draco says. He glances at the bits of Floo powder fluttering to the floor and continues.

“I’ll pack my things when I get back. Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says. Draco nods once and turns to the fireplace. Without thinking, Harry stands up. “Why’re you going to Pansy’s?”

Draco eyes him like he’s sick in the head. “To cry over being dumped by the Great Savior, why else?”

“Oh, of fucking course you still see me like that,” Harry can’t stop himself from snarling. “Have I ever been anything but The Fucking Boy Who Lived to you?”

Draco’s lips flatten to a thin line.

He’s exhausted, Harry realizes. His shift ended later than Harry’s at the Ministry today, yet he went home just to sit through this.

A weary sigh.

“You know the answer to that.”

Harry deflates. Does he?

Draco’s gaze lingers for another second.

“Bye, then,” he says. With a swift turn, he faces the fireplace, squaring his shoulders.

Draco’s voice doesn’t waver as he says, “Parkinson Estate.” With his old shirt stained with drying sweat, stuffed in a dirty pair of overalls, he walks forward, engulfed by a roar of green.

It’s quiet. The fireplace seems more subdued, as if it only deigns to burn enough to warm a single person instead of two. Harry falls back against his armchair, staring at nothing. His temples ache for some reason, like he’s spent the past hour stretching his unfocused eyes into slants to see better. If it is so, it doesn’t work. Harry feels like he’s blinder than ever.

Never mind, he has things to do. Has to take a shower, get dressed, trim his beard. Put on his best shoes and hit the Leaky, catching Seamus’s signature grin as he waits for Harry to get to the table and share the good news. Inform everybody that he’s done it, has cut things off and drawn this five-year epic of a ruse to a close. Order grumbling friends to pay up, their fault for betting that he wouldn’t have the balls to do it within 3 days.

Has to get some drinks to start, then head to a proper club, it’s nearly the weekend. Avoid the crushing disappointment that Luna has no qualm hiding from him. Make it back home after midnight, way after Draco’s returned to pack his bags—he doesn’t like to stay out past 11—and gone, gone, gone. Make it back home to a half-empty house, never again whole.

“Jesus,” Harry whispers.

His glasses have been pushed up without noticing, leaving space for his hands to press against closed eyes. Stars burst behind his eyelids, a squeezing pain. He presses harder like he’s got something to prove.

The vase on the coffee table is filled with blooms, pinks and whites galore, handpicked by Harry himself just last week. It was the first vase Draco’s blown for him, stained using cheap acrylic paint and glue. It was clumsily done and it shows, but it’s beautiful.

Harry’s hands can’t fall from his eyes, lest he imagines the damn thing cracking open and crashing onto the floor, leaving nothing left but millions and millions of tiny pieces. Delicate glass, delicate petals.

He curls into himself and doesn’t make a sound.

[lady-therion]

Close Quarters: Part 3 [Nessian]

Summary:  Two people, one cabin, plus a whole lot of love-hate tension.

Modern AU. 

A/N: In close quarters, every moment is a universe. 

***

   If Cassian thought he was fucked before, that was nothing compared to now.

   Now he was fucked with a capital “F.” The kind that was written with blood-red sharpie and underlined three times in that alarming “See me after class!” kind of way. Because in addition to discovering that Nesta actually felt things—possibly more so than anyone he had ever met—he also discovered something else.

    One, she liked romance novels.

   Two, she wore glasses.

   Glasses.

   There were only so many revelations a man could take in a single day.

   “You’re staring again,” she said, from her spot on the sofa.

   “Hn?”

   It was the most intelligent thing he could say once she turned that withering gaze on him, her eyes like blue agates intensified by the spell of those square black frames. An embarrassingly hot burn ran down the back of his neck as he sat across from her, trying to string together words.

   She gestured at the corner of her mouth. “You have a little…”

   He mirrored her, fingers grazing his lips. “What…?”

   “Drool,” she deadpanned.

   His cheeks flamed, close to scalding. The instinct to bat her wry accusation away with some crude remark was tantalizing. That had been the electric thrill of their dynamic, after all. But he sensed that if he fell back into old habits, Nesta would too.

   Because whether she realized it or not, she had been looking to him all night for cues.

   Math and music make no personal demands, she had said, after revealing that she didn’t find him as repulsive as he initially thought. It was a truth that added to the complex algorithm that made up Nesta Archeron. Just when he thought he was closer to solving her, the more compounded she became.

   At the military academy, he learned the concept of equivalency: the strategy of giving up an advantage in order to gain something of equal value.

   Against all his expectations, Nesta had given him a truth. Probably at great personal cost. So it was only fair for him to start doing the same.

   “Again,” she said. “The drooling. Should I get you a cup?”

   He grinned. “Sorry, can’t help it. I’m just really digging your glasses.”  

   “Liar,” she said. “Nobody likes glasses.”

   He spread his arms across the back of the couch, keeping a respectable distance. They were actually having a conversation! A civil one!

   “First: Friendship 101,” he reminded her. “Friends don’t lie. And second: People do like glasses. None of that bullshit like in the movies where the guy takes off a girl’s specs and suddenly everyone realizes just how gorgeous she is. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a prick.”

   She said nothing for a moment, that preternatural stare working overtime as he watched her process and dissect his words a million different ways.

   “My ex didn’t like my glasses,” she said, finally. “He said they made me look owlish. But I can’t help it. I get it migraines.”

   His blood simmered as an irrational urge to punch something coursed through him. He congratulated himself on keeping his voice flat as he said, “You don’t look owlish. I hoped you dumped his ass.”

   She smirked. “He dumped me, actually.”

   He incredulity knew no depths. “What? Why?”

   She shrugged, her expression shuttering. “I would think...the reason is obvious.”

   The pang in his chest felt as sharp as an arrowhead.

  No, he wanted to say, it wasn’t obvious.

  “Nesta—”

   “It’s nothing,” she said, brusque and dismissive. “Let’s talk about something else.”

   Cassian didn’t want to drop it, but he filed it away as another thorny variable of the Nesta Archeron algorithm. He always had this image of men—or women, for that matter—throwing themselves at her feet. Sure, she could be intimidating as hell. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worthy of someone’s affection.

   Or acceptance.

   More than anything, he wished could just say this to her. But equivalency demanded that Cassian take no more than he was given and he made too much progress to upset that balance now. So he cast around for something else to talk about when he finally settled on the books she had spilled across his coffee table.

   She had done it by accident, having upended her bag in a semi-frustrated search for those (not at all mesmerizing) glasses. Now its surface was hidden beneath heavy tomes on quantum physics, differential equations, and mass market paperbacks featuring shirtless men on the cover. He leaned down to pick through them; historical bodice rippers with names like The Earl with the Dragon Tattoo and One for the Rogue.

   “Seriously?”

   Nesta snatched them from out of his hand. “Seriously.”

   He cleared his throat. “So, your taste in reading...”

   “Tease me all you like,” she said, her tone and posture frosting over. “I won’t apologize for enjoying stories where the woman has all the power for once. I won’t apologize for enjoying relationships that survived the odds, however ridiculous or exaggerated. And I won’t apologize for liking sex.”

    He held up his hands in placation. “You definitely don’t have to apologize for that last one.” Then immediately winced at how flippant that sounded. “Wait. That came out wrong. Let me...”  

   “How do you do that?” asked Nesta. “How do you always throw me off-kilter?”

   “I throw you off-kilter?”

   “Yes,” she said, grimacing. “I’ve told you more things in the past few hours that even my own sisters don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. The answers elude me and it’s just so frustrating.”  

   There were several things Cassian could have said. All of them were wholly inadequate. So he stewed in the ensuing silence, that weird fog of tension, until Nesta rose and asked him where the bathroom was.

   “Upstairs to the right,” he said, and watched as she left him without a backwards glance.

***

   Nesta wished she had another set of clothes.

   At the moment, all she had was a blue wool sweater that was so shapeless, it slid off her shoulder like a burlap sack. Her black jeans had faded to a dull gray, making the rips and stains more apparent. In short, she looked like an underfed undergraduate. In reality, she was an underpaid doctoral candidate. Any money she received from her stipend went to her two worst vices: her caffeine habit and her shoe collection.

   Normally, she wouldn’t care how she looked. But Cassian…

   It wasn’t that she wanted to look attractive for him. That was preposterous. She just didn’t want to look like a bespectacled stray that stumbled upon his doorstep either (even if that was exactly what she was). Pride was a hard thing for her to aside. The fact that Cassian could shred through it like paper—and that she allowed him to—was terrifying beyond measure.

   And yet she couldn’t forget the way his breath had branded her skin…

   They hadn’t talked about that. How he whispered into her ear about how surprising he found her. He hadn’t said it in a snide way either, as if she were something to be owned and objectified. It was a far cry from how Tomas treated her, the memories of which she had firmly shut in a coffin until a single interaction with Cassian had coaxed it out. 

   No, really. How did he do that?

   Sighing, she took a moment to glance at her surroundings. Cassian had lent her the guest bedroom on the second floor, which also came with its own bathroom. Like the rest of the cabin, the space it was rustic and charming. It irked her. Everything from the cherry wood panels to the marble white countertops to the built-in skylights made her feel...out of place.

   Towels, she thought.

   Answers wouldn’t come to her if she was overwrought and overtired. Self-care and a hot shower would have to the best interim solution.

   But in order to do that, she needed towels.

   A cursory look downstairs told her that Cassian was no longer on the first floor. Most likely, he had gone to bed. Which was just as well. She didn’t know if she could face him when she was feeling so...exposed. Still, she couldn’t ignore the slight tinge of disappointment. Had she really grown so used to him being there, baiting her or otherwise?

   In any case, her shower would have to wait.

   And of course, Cassian appeared out of nowhere just as she shut him out of her thoughts.

   And of course, he happened to be fresh from his own hot shower; rivulets of water running down the ridges, divots, and cuts of those hard-earned muscles. Muscles that stood stark even under the whorls of tattoos that seemed like an elegant extension of his dark, tanned skin.

   And of course, she also happened to forget her own powers of speech as she surveyed the towering mass of his barely clothed presence, trying in vain to keep her photographic memory from engraving him in her mind.

   “Oh,” she said.

   Cassian blinked, finally noticing her there at the end of the hall.

   “Oh.”

 ***

Thank you for reading, my loves.

Other chapters be found in the Masterlist in my Bio / I am Lady_Therion on AO3

[jimlingss]

The NewsCasters [Finale]

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (Finale)

Words: 13.1k

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Anchors!Au, Rivals!Au

Summary: When Local and Celebrity news has to fight head on, who knows who will win. All you do know is that Kim Seokjin, the arrogant bastard that he is, might give you a hernia before your job does.

Warning: Swearing, implied smut, mentions of prostitution.

Dating is weird - you still cannot wrap your head around the concept.

“So….the chardonnay looks good.”

“Hmm, I hear it pairs well with the steak.”

“That’s nice.” You awkwardly clear your throat, flipping through the menu that is way too expensive for entreées that could barely fit in the size of your palm. “What are you thinking of ordering?”

“Not sure yet.” He studies the menu with an unnecessary amount of concentration, refusing to look up and meet your eyes. “The ratatouille sounds pretty good.”

“Uh-huh.” You have so many regrets.

You should’ve never agreed to go on a date with your sworn enemy, Kim Seokjin. The dim lighting, white clothed tables and knowing smiles of the waiters does nothing to alleviate the awkwardness between the two of you. If anything, the amorous atmosphere is making it worse.

It’s excruciating. It’s unbearable. The cringe of the first date crawls up your throat, threatening to make you scream and book it out of the high-end restaurant. It’s never been this horrendous with Seokjin before. A month ago, you would’ve made a snarky comment and banter back and forth with him, let your eyes roll as he sprouted some cheesy nonsense with his cocky smirk.

But now, he does not speak a single word. You don’t either. It’s merely meaningless small talk to fill in the spaces of silence.

“So, how was your day today?”

“It was good. What about you?”

“Good too.”

You don’t know why you feel so nervous. But you’re aware that you’re not alone. Seokjin is in a similar state, given that he tugs on his shirt collar every so often, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit, swallowing hard and avoiding your stare. “The weather was nice today. Blue skies.”

“Yep.”

Perhaps it’s the looming pressure that this one time that will decide everything - that you’ve only given him one chance. Maybe it’s because you said you wanted serious and now the pair of you are trying not to fuck it up in front of each other. Whatever the countless reasons are, all you know is that this is much more painful than it needs to be.

“I’d like the steak.”

“Yes and I’d like the ratatouille. Could we also get a bottle of the chardonnay?”

“Certainly. And is that all?” As you nod, the waitress collects the menus and bows her head, telling you that it’ll be out in less than ten minutes. You want to beg her to stay but alas, the moment she saunters off, the stiff quiet settles again.

Your hands are in your lap, fidgeting with the cotton fabric of your little black dress. Jin grabs his glass of water, sipping on it and pretending to be preoccupied with scanning the area of the restaurant. The warm chatter coming from the other tables occupies your ears and you nibble on your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry chapstick you had put on top of your red lipstick.

“So…”

“Umm…” You clear your throat and he inhales a large breath, searching for a topic of conversation. A light bulb flickers in your brain and you smile out of relief. It’s a different strategy but it’ll kill time and give you a chance to get a grip on yourself. “I’m going to head to the washroom for a bit.”

“Oh, okay.” Seokjin’s shoulder eases as well, thankful that he gets a minute to collect himself.

You excuse yourself politely, grabbing your purse and making it across the floor towards the washrooms.

It’s not like you were ever pressured into going on a date with Jin. You very much want to. It’s just that you never realized how awkward it was going to be. You’re beginning to wonder if it’s better to keep what the both of you had before - old friends that are now competitors, occasionally flirting and fucking behind closed doors. Maybe it should stay that way-

“Y/N?!” A shrill voice shrieks and your heart stops beating. “Oh my gosh, that is you!”

You’re spun around, faced with a strawberry blonde woman accompanied by three other males and you blink twice to make sure you’re not dreaming. “S-Sana! What a c-coincidence. Are you guys eating here?”

“Yup, we got a reservation!” The girl is in a floral skirt and yellow blouse, joined with Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook who look at you in surprise. “It was supposed to be the entire team of Local News but Seokjin said he couldn’t make it,” you flinch, “Jimin said he was busy too and the other writers have a convention to go to.”

Sana snags Namjoon’s arm, hanging onto it with a smile. The timid man blushes. “In the end, it’s sadly just us.”

Jungkook, the other co-anchor from Local News, quirks his head to the side. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I...was..uh...going to the washroom!” You point to the sign, mind racing with thoughts. “And, um, I was just ordering some takeout to bring home.”

The boy frowns. “You’re wearing really fancy clothing for grabbing takeout.”

“Oh, I’m trying to break into it. There’s no point in leaving it in the back of the closet!” You laugh loudly and you look down at your heels, inwardly cringing. “Does the dress not suit me?”

“No, that’s not it! You look quite nice, Y/N.” Hoseok smiles at you, more careful with his words than young and reckless Jungkook. The program director’s motto has always been to create peace between the two programs and he’s generally friendly. The only time you’ve seen him lose his temper is when Youngmi is involved which is a bit strange if you think about it- “You know, you should join us for dinner.”

Your train of thought comes to a screeching halt and your face drains of colour. “Actually, I’m busy-”

“That’s an amazing idea!” Sana’s irises light up and she lurches forward, grabbing your hands. “You were gonna go home alone anyways, right? You should just join us, Y/N!”

“I…”

Jungkook remains quiet, not wanting to converse with the enemy but not completely opposed to the idea either. Namjoon is the one who speaks up. “Did you order yet?”

A slight whimper leaves your parted lips. “No…”

Sana continues to badger and pester you, begging and pleading. “C’mon, Y/N. Please? Please?” She cannot bear the thought of you eating by yourself and it would be a definite perk to have another female around the table. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

The persistence and batting of the weather girl’s long lashes has you wavering. “Okay. If you guys don’t mind,” a massive sigh spills from your mouth, “Sure.”

The familiar waitress at the front booth gives you an odd look. You stiffly smile and fortunately, she must receive some kind of signal since she doesn’t make any comments. All you hope for is that the waitress will redirect the group to the otherside of the restaurant where you can make some excuse, bail and go back to Seokjin.

But of-fucking-course not.

If there’s one thing you learned, it’s that fate hates you and Seokjin together. And the waitress has to lead the entire group to the table right next to him. “Y/N?”

He spots you and stands up. Jungkook beats you to the punch and steps forward with his doe, wide eyes. “Jin? What are you doing here?!” It’s like the younger boy is a puppy and he finally found his owner. Jungkook grins and nearly hops up to Jin. “I didn’t know you would be here!”

“Yeah.” Hoseok frowns, thanking the waitress for the menus as she hands them to him and leaves. “Didn’t you say you were really busy doing something tonight? You made a big deal saying it was important and life-changing or whatever.”

“I’m waiting for a date.” His eyes momentarily flicker to yours. “But I think I got stood up.”

Everyone grimances out of sympathy and guilt overwhelms you as well as frustration. Nothing ever goes right when you’re involved with Jin. Even if you desperately want things to, there’s always a wrench thrown in.

You look over to the table and there’s no trace that you were there. The weather was warm enough that you opted out of a coat, your handbag was currently slung on your shoulder and there wasn’t even a lipstick stain on the napkin. The only thing was-

“You ordered without your date?” Namjoon pursues his lips together, asking out of sheer curiosity.

“...yep.” Seokjin inhales a deep breath, demonstrating his quick wit with his next line, “I heard the steak was good so I figured I would just order.”

Jungkook hums, brows furrowing deeper. In dating 101, he thought it wasn’t a good idea to order for other people. Nonetheless, the naive anchor muses, “You must’ve been waiting ages for your date.”

“Yes.” Seokjin smiles, rubbing his forehead and staring at the empty seat across from him. “I’ve been waiting for years.”

The others assume he’s just being dramatic but you fully know he’s not. The truth weighs heavily on his bitter tongue and sad expression. Your chest hurts and your lips part on instinct.

“There’s probably some kind of misunderstanding.”

He smiles at you. “I trust her, so you’re probably right.”

The chirpy meteorologist decides to change the sorrowful atmosphere with a forced giggle and a pat on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Well, there’s no point in sitting here and waiting all night. You should join us, Seokjin! We caught Y/N by the front door and now Jin too! There are so many coincidences tonight. Maybe this is a sign that you should’ve never bailed in the first place!”

There’s some silence. You try to use telepathy to convey to him ‘no, don’t move, wait until we can get the fuck out here together’. But unfortunately, you don’t have mind reading powers.

“Okay.”

Hoseok smiles, grabbing what was supposed to be your plate of food. “I call the steak.”

//

The six of you end up having dinner together well into the night. Sana cozies up to Namjoon’s side and you would typically think nothing much of it since the mereologist has always been physically affectionate to everyone but the writer grows shy and the smile that sneaks on his mouth makes you suspect this isn’t like the other cases.

Although your steak ends up getting devoured by Hoseok, you order a similar dish and it’s as delicious as you thought it would be. The chardonnay is also passed around and you’re feeling a bit woozy after two whole glasses. “So what kind person was your date?”

Sana pierces her eyes into him, intrigued as to who managed to pick up the infamous Kim Seokjin. Around the company, no matter who it was that flirted with the man, he merely brushed them off. To find him on a date was gossip gold.

“My date is someone I’ve known for a long time.” Jin smiles to himself. “She’s funny, pretty, smart, cute, all of it. But an absolute control-freak too.”

You don’t disagree despite your brow twitching. Meanwhile, Hoseok tiredly sighs. “I know the type.”

He says it like it’s from personal experience and before your mind can take a trip to wonder what he could mean, Jin steals back your attention. “Actually, it’s not that bad. I find it kind of funny to throw her off her game and watch how she reacts.” He smirks. “She always surprises me.”

“You sound like you like her a lot.” Jungkook pipes up, “Too bad she ditched you- ow!”

“Oops. Sorry, my foot slipped, Kook.” You give a tense smile and the boy mumbles incoherently. Across from you, Seokjin snorts aloud and his smile expands. You most certainly did not ditch your poor date - Local News might not believe you but you’re far from being a heartless monster.

Nevertheless, there’s no point in creating an argument, thus, you transition to the smoothest subject you can think of. “Are you going on any dates recently, Jungkook?”

“Me?” His complexion becomes flushed and he shakes his head several times. “No, not really.”

Sana giggles. “Jungkook here is too innocent for a date. They’ll probably eat him all up in one bite.” She coos at the male before looking over at Namjoon with a smile. “Reminds me of someone.”

Before you can ask if there’s something legitimately going on between Namjoon and Sana, Seokjin interrupts and looks off at his co-anchor. The duo of them are rather close, reminding you of brothers and it’s always endearing to see Jungkook looking up to Jin and the latter taking care of the former. “What kind of person are you into, JK? I haven’t heard you mention anything about your sex or love life.”

Jungkook becomes sheepish with the new attention and he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh...I’m...I...I like energetic and happy people. Someone who’s really enthusiastic and fun and passionate about what they do.”

Namjoon grins. “So, you mean Taehyung?”

“Oh my god.” You gasp, hitting your fist against the table. To think that your own co-anchor’s feelings of infatuation are reciprocated - if Taehyung knew, he’d be over the fucking moon. “You have a crush on Taehyung. But why?”

“I...uh..”

Hoseok, to your right, laughs. “Jungkook is a sucker for handsome people that tease him and guys that share his hobby of playing video games-”

“It’s more than that.” The anchor interjects in a cute grumble and you nearly swoon right then and there, chin rested in your propped up hand, mulling how adorable young love is.

It’s then that you feel a sudden brush on your leg and a jolt bolting up your skin. Sana responds to Jungkook something along the lines of ‘of course it is’ but you don’t notice. Hoseok asks if you’re okay from your abrupt silence and you nod, masking your startlement with a cough.

The moment he turns back to the conversation, you flicker your eyes into Seokjin’s, glaring at him. The man is lifting his wine glass to his mouth, sipping it and he discreetly winks at you. Simultaneously, his foot brushes the inside of your thigh and goes higher and higher.

No one has noticed. Nobody realizes that both you and Seokjin have gone quiet, that his shoe is off and his leg is extended under the table, foot pressing straight at your dampening core. As inappropriate as it is to be doing this at a public location, no less in front of co-workers that could demolish you if they found out about the relationship, it sends a pleasant thrill up your spine.

“Is Taehyung seeing anyone, Y/N?” Sana leans over the table and you gulp, having difficulties concentrating when your slit being rubbed up and down by his toes, clit pressed roughly with little consideration; Jin having a simple objective of ruining your sophisticated demeanor.

“Uh,” you let out a sort of squeak before shaking your head. “Not that I know of.”

You can’t help shifting closer off the edge of your seat, closer to Seokjin and the knowing smirk never erases from his arrogant expression. He continues to brush your thigh, poking at your clit and you down the rest of your chardonnay, muffling back some noises that crawl up your throat.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hoseok puts a hand on your shoulder and you jump.

“I-I’m fine.”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention is on you and Seokjin hums. “Are you sure? You’re really red.”

The little shit pretends to be innocent, fluttering his long lashes but you catch the tiny smirk that flashes for a second and you scowl at him. But it’s then and there that you make a decision. “I...”

“I have a really bad stomach ache.” You grasp onto your abdomen to sell your lie, exhaling a staggering breath for an award winning performance. “I was trying to ignore it but I guess I can’t.”

“That’s terrible.” Sana is genuinely worried and you would feel bad for lying if not for your damp, sticky underwear and the aching throb between your legs. “Do you need medicine?”

“Nah. I’ll just go before something bad happens. Thanks for tonight guys. It was fun.” You stand up and Seokjin puts his leg back where it belongs. He watches in amusement as you scramble for your belongings, shuffling your seat back, pulling your short dress down.

The others don’t get to say much before you’ve skedaddled off, straight into the washroom.

Luckily, it’s all separate washroom stalls, each with their own toilet and sink. The moment you get inside and lock it, you’re pulling your phone out, sending a text that instructs him to tell his colleagues that there’s an emergency and that he needs to leave. Seokjin must receive it since in the next two minutes, there’s a stern knock on the door.

“Y/N?” The door opens and you tug him in, shutting it a second later. “Woah-”

You pull him in for a sloppy kiss, desperate to get a taste and intruding your hot tongue into his mouth. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed against his. You only part away after running out of oxygen. “I-I..wasn’t going to ditch you. I really was heading to the b-bathroom and then I accidentally ran...ran into them-”

“I know, I know.” He smiles at the way you pant and he leaves a few pecks on your mouth to chase the flavour of your lips. “You don’t have to worry.”

You embrace Seokjin close to you, laying your forehead on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to only be us, having a nice dinner together.”

“It’s fine. But...” He giggles at how you’ve hastily moved away, ripped his suit jacket off of him and your thumb is hooked around the waistband of your panties, ready to peel them off. “What are you trying to do, Y/N?”

You freeze. “I, um, uh, are we not going to fuck?” The embarrassment quickly washes over you and your cheeks grow hot at his soft gaze. “I thought the whole...footsie thing...umm…”

Seokjin grins. “Of course we will! But I’m not going to do it in this dirty bathroom, do you know who I am?! I promised to take you out on a proper date, so we’re gonna go on that date! I’m a gentleman who keeps my promises,” he huffs out while childishly stomping his foot. “Ice-cream!”

You blink and he smiles, continuing, “Two blocks away, my treat and then we can make love in a warm, nice bed, all night, together.”

Your face twists up in a distasteful expression like you ate a lemon slice. “Make love?”

He helps you put your underwear back on and laughs. “You’re fine with saying ‘fucking’ but not ‘making love’?”

A few whines leave your mouth and Seokjin never once diverts his eyes elsewhere. The nervousness from earlier in the night has completely dissipated that the pair of you are finally acting more like yourselves. He throws his jacket over his shoulder, holding it with two fingers and his other hand lifts up. You pout, putting your palm in his but a smile also sneaks up your mouth, one that you no longer resist.

“Let’s go.” He laces his fingers through yours. “Let’s finally have our date.”

The door opens and you never look back.

//

Things don’t change - dating is still weird.

But with Kim Seokjin, one outing quickly turns to three, which multiples by ten.

Before you realize, you’re lost count of how many times you’ve been at restaurants and huddled together outside of convenience stores, to the movies and giving handjobs in the back of theaters to getting fingered in the backseat of the car in the dark corner of a parking garage.

It’s strange to say the least. Sometimes you rouse up in a panic that someone is smothering and choking you to death, having their arms wrapped around your body. Other times, you wake up in the middle of the night startled that there’s another lump in the bed next to you. There are incidents when you get home late from work and upon opening the door to discover a light on in another room, your first instinct is to grab a baseball bat and beat up the intruder-slash-burglar.

“Where are we going?”

He turns around with a smile, holding back the urge to pinch your cheeks that puff out when you pout. “It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“I know.” Kim Seokjin keeps on tugging you along, lacing his fingers tightly between yours. “And knowing that you hate it, makes it more fun for me.”

You give him the most unimpressed expression that you’re able to muster. “Really? You’re the worst.” Jin swiftly stops in his tracks, on the middle of the street, sulking at the statement and you roll your eyes, reaching up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “But I guess I don’t hate you too much.”

Another foolish grin expands across his features.

You still aren’t used to all these changes yet - from holding hands (which seems gross with sweaty palms and germs festering between fingernails) to sudden kisses (which are very inconvenient since you have to worry about bad breath all the time now and your expensive lipstick smudging). Even your nightly television binges are interrupted since apparently he’d much rather watch an informative documentary than a reality television show.

Dating Kim Seokjin, rival and competitor, is an absolute whirlwind that gives you a massive headache on most days. But it’s not as bad as you initially thought it was going to be.

“What are these?”

The boy holds the bouquet to your nose. The edges of his lips tilt. “Flowers.”

“Well obviously.” You take them with a frown, the floral scent of the lavender tulips wafting into your nose. “But where did you get these? I was literally in the washroom for two seconds.”

He merely shrugs and then winks. “Secret.”

For one, you have a cuddle buddy now, a partner to chat and complain to. Additionally, the pair of you are learning from each other; while Seokjin becomes less snobbish towards the celebrity world, you’re absorbing more information about current events.

Who are you kidding? You adore this man.

The weekends aren’t ever boring with him around. Your meals have improved with his culinary skills. His kisses and warm embraces are also a huge plus. On days that he stays over at your apartment, at night, you dig your frozen toes into his toasty thighs, which is an amazing perk despite his loud screams.

Seokjin isn’t living with you but at this point, he essentially is with those fun ‘sleepovers’ that occur every other day. The guy’s weaseled his way into your house, closet and drawer occupied with his belongings and toothbrush perched next to yours. Although you’ve had to throw your routine out the window, the change has been for the better. You can feel it.

“We’re not going roller skating again, are we? I had bruises all over my knees for weeks, Jin!”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Is it a scavenger hunt?”

“Nope.”

“Kite flying?”

“Not this time.”

“Don’t tell me….are we going to an improv show?!”

“You act like they’re bad when in fact, you were laughing the entire time!” He pokes your nose and then laughs too. “But no. Just trust me!”

You’re still learning how to cope with the spontaneity; like the time Jin tried to drive to a cliff peak for a stargazing picnic but ended up getting lost and driving on a straight highway out of town for three hours without an exit in sight. In spite of having to end up sharing a single bed with him at a dingy motel room, at least you two got closer, in a literal sense as well.

Nevertheless, the two of you are still learning about each other.

“Jin.” You whine his name for the fiftieth time this night. “We’re not going to adopt that puppy you saw in the window last week, right? We don’t have space for the poor dog. Unless…” Your eyes spark and you look at him carefully. “Are we just wandering around and killing time?!”

He lolls his head to his shoulder, gaze sweeping up and down your figure. “If you keep asking me questions, little girl, I’m going to bend you over and spank you.”

You fake a dramatic gasp. “You wouldn’t. Not in public.”

The anchorman grins. “Keep pushing me and you’ll see.”

Oh really? Your interest becomes piqued and you lean your weight onto his arm, asking where you’re going and how long it’ll take, questions spewed incessantly without a breath being taken. You push his buttons and you catch his glare, only giggling at it and acting as childish as Seokjin usually is.

It’s only when you hear a familiar voice a few feet away that your mouth shuts and your spine becomes cold. “Y/N?”

Fuck.

Min Yoongi is standing in front of you, wearing a disturbed expression as his eyes flicker from your face to Seokjin. You immediately pry your hand away from Jin’s, hiding it behind your back with your other hand still holding the bouquet of flowers. Your posture becomes straight and rigid, mouth opening and closing a few times, a literal fish out of water.

The reporter, your colleague, is in a similar state.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

You look over to Park Jimin who is joined beside Yoongi.

They’re in casual clothes, standing relatively close together. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost think that they’re on a date - like you and Seokjin are. “Just hanging out.”

You nod your head, swallowing hard. “Same.”

“Alrighty then.” Yoongi grabs onto Jimin’s sleeve, beginning to drag him away. The latter man is stunned speechless. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah...have a good weekend, Yoongi.” Your own hand grabs onto Jin’s shirt and you pull him in the opposite direction. The four of you awkwardly slide over, switching positions and facing each other as you slink backwards. “Bye, Jimin.”

The moment everyone mutually turns around, you latch onto Seokjin’s hand again, booking it down the street. He runs with you, panting for air and laughing aloud at the same time. Jin doesn’t need to ask if you’re that against making it publicly known that you’re dating him nor does he have a chance to misunderstand that you’re ashamed of him. The anchor is too aware of the dynamics at your workplace, considering he shares the space and is technically your co-worker as well. The hostility on both sides is still very real.

But Jin doesn’t mind as much as you do; he’s willing to be on the forefront of glares and rumours but he’s not overly concerned at the moment.

It’s too humorous to watch you practically die after running a measly block.

“Are you okay?” He crosses his arms, watching you crouch over with hands on your knees, hyperventilating and having a hack attack. “Y/N?”

“I-I’m fine.” You pound your chest, lungs and heart burning. “I s-should exercise more, that’s all.”

He pats your shoulder and says the most horrid words of all- “sounds like a date.”

As atrocious as a date at the gym sounds, at the very least, you’re glad that you escaped successfully from Yoongi and you’re still alive to hear the man giggle from your terrible athletic skills.

//

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Damn.” Seokjin is absolutely breathless. His chest is still heaving as he tries to take in air and his stare is pinned onto your visage. The hair on his head is completely disheveled and you wonder if any efforts can bring the strands down again. It looks like he was electrocuted and you make a mental note to resist pulling on his locks from now on...at least when you’re at work. “You’re such a dirty girl.”

“I better get my turn later.” You quickly adjust your skirt and fix your smudged makeup.

Jin pulls up his pants and grins, slapping your ass as you bend over to pick up your discarded cardigan. The spank goes straight to your throbbing core but you force yourself to ignore the ache, too worried that you’re both running out of time.

“Damn straight you will. After that, I’m not sure I’ll let you off until you beg me.”

You don’t get a chance to make a comment, not when you open the closet door, darting your pupils in both directions before finding that the coast is clear. As you make your leave, Seokjin holds your waist, twirls you around and kisses you silly.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I know, dork.” You slap his chest, making him let you go. Anxiousness causes you to take another look in all directions, feeling relieved when there’s indeed no one at all. “What if someone saw?!”

He shrugs. “Then we’d give them one hell of a show.”

“Get back to work before your program gets thrown off the air, idiot.” You lightly push him, making a last ditch attempt to try to tame his bird nest’s hair with a stroke of your hand. After a moment, you reach up on your toes, pecking him quickly on his lips. “I’ll see you after work.”

Special break times and extended lunches are no surprise to your schedule anymore. As much as you both like to enjoy your time properly in a bed, pressed between soft covers and mattresses, there’s something about roughhousing in a closet at work and the scandalous nature that keeps you going throughout the day, giving you a better re-charge than caffeine. Jin doesn’t disagree either considering how much he grins when you pull him in.

“Did you hear?” “What is it?” “There’s a rumour going around that-” “No way! What?!”

But you never considered the complications of your actions.

“W-what’s going on?”

Taehyung sips on his tea, brows raising in the process. “There’s some office gossip going around.” Your partner leans closer, bending his knees down to your left ear and he whispers like someone might be listening, “You know….about workplace romance.”

“What.” Your spine goes rigid, senses triggered and on high alert.

Shit. Have you finally been exposed?! You begin to panic, envisioning being ostracized, whispered about in the halls, burnt at the stake. Your entire career will go down the drain-

“Oh, Y/N.”

The writers standing by the coffee machine in the break room shut their mouths the moment they notice you. An editor nibbles on his granola bar and the others look away. It’s intensely awkward and a sweat begins to break at your forehead. They seem to hesitate before breaking the silence. “Can we...ask you something?”

Maybe, you can brush it off. Perhaps, you can play dumb. There are a lot of strategies here!

In a final attempt to save yourself, you tip your head to the side and smile, masking your distress. “Sure, what is it?”

One of the writers seem to be loosening at your compliance and she effortlessly slides up to your side, cocking a single eyebrow up. “Y/N, we’re a team here. This department is like a little family, so, it’s important to be honest. All of us value cooperation and harmony. That’s why you don’t have to lie.” You nod in agreement, admiring her cunning abilities to persuade you. “There’s something going on, right?”

You clear your throat to not stutter. As if you’re on air, you speak clearly and distinctly, tongue punctuating each syllable. “What do you mean?”

“It’s so obvious.” Everyone around the circle stares at you, their piercing eyes crawling under your skin. “Youngmi and Hoseok.”

There’s a murmur that ripples through your co-workers and nods exchanged. “They’ve been so shady for awhile. There’s something definitely going on between them. I’m willing to place bets on it.”

You dart your eyes back and forth, between each person that makes any remark, mind blank and reeling, all the messages delaying. They didn’t find out?

“Did you see the way he keeps looking at her?” “Yeah and when they’re arguing, it seems like a lover’s quarrel.” “It’s no wonder they’re always trying to keep the peace between our programs.” “So Youngmi’s been siding with the enemy this entire time?!”

Taehyung hums. The writers continue to dish. The editors drink their coffee and offer their two cents on the situation. Never have you felt so alone in a horde of people before. Even with your secret being safe, you feel vulnerable and naked.

“Well, I think whatever they do outside of work isn’t any of our business.”

Everybody freezes. They crane their necks around. In particular, Taehyung gives you a weird look, wholeheartedly surprised at what you’ve said. “Who are you and where is the Y/N that I know?”

Ignoring him, one of the editors steps up with a scoff. “Are you kidding me? The problem is that they bring it inside of work and not only that but our careers are at stake! Everything that we know of can disappear just like that. We’re supposed to be working our assess off to save our future jobs but our leader is off sleeping with the competition.”

The strain in the air becomes heavier with the reminder.

Each individual grimaces, staring down at the floor and you don’t make any additional comments. They’re right after all. You can’t refute facts. Someone else shudders.

“Workplace romances are actually the worst - why can’t they keep love out of business?”

//

The pounding headache knocking at your brain doesn’t help you focus. Suddenly, the little perfect bubble universe belonging to you and Kim Seokjin has bursted. The fairytale has turned to a bitter reality. The little honeymoon phase has faded into a bleak and unknown future.

At the end of next week, one of you will be packing up your bags and belongings, clearing out your desk and drawers. What will happen after that? The economy hasn’t been great and who knows where you’ll have to travel in order to get a decent job. Can your relationship even handle long distance?

“Good evening and welcome to Local News at six. I am Kim Seokjin.”

The voice on screen interrupts your trance and mental meltdown. You stare at the man on screen, the corner of his mouth that’s meekly upturned, his crinkled and soft eyes and the confidence radiating off his skin. You miss him. It’s pathetic considering you’ve seen him a couple of hours ago but you wish he were here with you now, to tell you it’s all going to be okay and that there’s no point in freaking out. He always manages to somehow make your noisy head become quiet.

“Jin’s hair is really messy.”

The observant remark has you whipping your head over to Min Yoongi who’s nonchalantly flipping through the script. He lifts his chin at your stare and eyes you, lips twitching into a slight smile.

“I got a tip from someone. You should join me, Y/N.” His sly tone makes you wonder if he’s threatening you and your own eyes narrow. “Are you free tonight?”

The electricity and heat is felt between your locked stares.

“Yes.” You respond in a cautious manner and exactly like the incident on the weekend, you both begin to back away, slick and steady motions not to startle the other person. “I am.”

This relationship with Seokjin was going to be the end of you.

//

Night typically means it’s time for more romps in the sack - in your case, you could be lying on a nice bed or at least bent over a kitchen counter rather than cramped in a tiny closet or the backseat of a car. But today, instead of being in the nice company of your ever doting lover, you are heading out with grumpy Min Yoongi who seems to have more chips on his shoulder and sticks up his ass than usual.

“Where are we going?”

Unlike Seokjin who would tease and banter with you, Yoongi shuts your trap instantly with his intolerant glare. “Shut up.”

“Wow, rude.” You roll your eyes and it does nothing to deter him.

It’s an eerily quiet area that the pair of you are treading on. By day, this cute part of the city has some small business stores open and boutiques lining the street. By night, it’s dead; almost creepy in the way it reminds you of a zombie apocalypse. You don’t know where Yoongi’s leading you and if you didn’t trust him, you would be afraid that he was going to kill you.

It takes a lot in order to assemble findings into a stable story. There’s a ton of investigations that need to be done, leads to follow, establishing reliable contacts and sources. It’s a rather unpredictable lifestyle but somehow, Min Yoongi manages to do it well. You’ve only joined him a handful of times but you know he’ll go to great lengths to find something amazing.

You just hope you’ll make it out alive.

“A love hotel?” You tilt your head, letting the obnoxious neon lights burn to the back of your eyeballs. “Yoongi, why are we at this place?”

“We’re going around back,” he mumbles in equal reluctance. He enjoys this as much as you do, which in fact is none, but sometimes business requires sacrifice. “Just be quiet and follow me.”

The both of you tread on the lawn, crouching down and blending into the shadows. You make it around the hotel building to the parking lot and interestingly enough, there’s a huge cluster of trees in the middle of the space. The largest tree reminds you of something you’d see straight out of National Geographic: Oak Forests. As you muse what it would be like to climb it, Yoongi makes it to the trunk, looks up, bends his knees and has his hands laid out.

“What?”

“Let me boost you up.”

A muscle in your cheek jerks. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Hurry.” He gives you an urgent expression and you grumble, mentally debating the choices you have but you’ve made it this far.

You can only thank yourself for wearing a pair of old dress pants today as Yoongi hoists you up and you grab onto the thick branch, clambering the tree like a five-year old on the monkey bars.

After, the reporter swings his camera behind his back and jumps too, using his weak upper body strength to climb the white oak branches, struggling a bit in the process. You mutter curses under your breath, forcing yourself not to look down in fear of falling and you scale the tree to the best of your abilities.

“Are we spying on people?! Yoongi is this even legal?!” The more you think about it, the more you’re losing it. “Did you forget about the privacy laws that was slammed into your brain last year by Youngmi? If she knew we were here, she’d kill us. We could get into so much trouble for this, oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. This isn’t in my job description. I’m going to fall and die and make it in the front pages of the newspaper. Fucking hell!”

“Quit your whining,” he huffs out of breath, struggling to climb upwards. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You touch something slimy on the rough bark and you cringe, wiping the mysterious substance on your cotton blouse. You’re less than thirty feet off the ground but it’s still making you nauseous to the pits of your stomach. “Jesus, we can get arrested for this. Sued for sure. We’re not the paparazzi, Yoongi. This is so wrong. So wrong in so many ways.”

“Okay, you can stop climbing now. Here should be good.” He picks up his camera, adjusting the lense while leaning against the thick trunk of the white oak tree. The reporter presses his face up to the viewfinder, perfecting it in place, pointing it right at the position of the open window. “Now we wait.”

“For?”

“You’ll see.”

You lean against the tree trunk before settling down on a sturdy branch, hanging your feet off and forcing yourself to calm down. The rustle of the green leaves dance to the cool night breeze and it sings pleasantly in your ears. You can feel the wind kissing against the apples of your cheeks as well. Despite being afraid of falling, it’s quite nice to feel like a child again, scaling a tree with a good friend, making mischief and up to no good. “Hey, Yoongi.”

“What?”

“Thanks for not exposing me.”

“Exposing what?” He smirks slightly when you look over at him. The city skyline and flashy lights of the hotel offer a dim sort of luminescence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You scoff, running your fingertips against the rough bark, filling your senses with nature’s fresh scent. You muse that regardless of the hard exterior Yoongi puts out there, he’s always been a great friend, having your back since day one.

He hums. “What’s the official relationship status?”

“I’m...not sure.”

You and Seokjin haven’t actually made anything official yet. You’re not sure if calling him a boyfriend is the right word.

“You know, it’s okay to date him, right?” Yoongi drops his camera, letting it sling over his neck. He keeps his eyes trained forward while settling down beside you. “You’re not doing anything wrong and it won’t jeopardize your career. I know everyone makes a big deal out of it but at the end of the day, it’s your life. And don’t you want a life outside of work?”

You give a soft smile, eyes flickering upwards to the tiny stars poking through the blackened sky. “Are you trying to insinuate that I have no life?”

“You know I’m not,” he replies. “It’s undeniable that you’re a workaholic, Y/N. You love routine and patterns. You’re a person who doesn’t like change and you lack adaptability skills. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to insult you. I’m like that too.” A heavy sigh spills from his lips. “I’m just trying to say that Seokjin is spontaneous and he’ll bring variety into your life. If you move out of your comfort zone, maybe you’ll achieve more than you had originally planned.”

“Wow.” You redirect your gaze at him. “That’s really insightful and comforting, Yoongi. Thanks. I’m not being sarcastic either. I needed that. Like a lot.”

“No problem.” His lips are pouty and he shrugs. “I tell it how I see it.”

“Then can you tell me why you were being such an asshole earlier?”

There’s a reason the reporter brought you out here. It’s not everyday that he requests your assistance. In fact, he prefers to be self-sufficient and independent in his work. But you’ve been working with him and been his friend long enough to know his true intentions. Yoongi is indirect. There’s always intentions behind his actions and you suspected that he led you here to talk.

There’s something on his mind that he needs to spill and you’re going to be that trustworthy someone that he talks to.

“I’m always an ass, Y/N. Nothing’s ever changed.”

“It’s Jimin, isn’t it.” By the change of his features, you know you’ve hit bullseye. “Are you seeing him?”

There’s a pause. “Something like that. I don’t know. Relationships are hard.”

“You could say that again.”

Yoongi inhales a short breath and then mentally leaps forward with courage mustered. “Do you think I’m a shitty person, Y/N?”

“What?” You frown, having never witnessed the reporter being insecure. “No. Did Jimin say that?”

“Of course he didn’t.” The corners of his mouth upturns. “The kid’s an angel. But I feel like he could do better than someone like me.”

“Are you kidding me?” You lightly hit his arm and he turns to you in all his weak and sincere vulnerabilities laid out. “Yoongi, you’re amazing and who cares if you’re blunt? That just makes things better. You work damn hard, you’re funny and pretty decent looking in the face.” He laughs and you match his grin. “If you want me to be frank, I even had a crush on you when you first came!”

He rolls his head to the side, interested in what you have to say. “Then what happened?”

“You opened your mouth and started talking.”

For the first time that night, Yoongi breaks out into hysterical laughter and you giggle until your stomach squeezes painfully. Tears fill your eyes and you wipe them away, sitting back and enjoying the midnight hour. “Don’t be with someone who makes you feel bad about yourself. But you deserve love too, Yoongi.”

As it leaves your mouth, you’re also struck with a self-realization. “All of us do.”

“You’re such a brat.” Yoongi smiles. “I’m glad you have Jin around to reign you in.”

“Oh please.” You nudge him with your elbow. “Don’t you know that I top?”

“You freaks. Ew.” He cringes. “Don’t tell me about your sex life.”

Your tongue ‘tuts’ and you dreamily sigh. “You’re a fucking lucky bastard though. Park Jimin is an angel and you better treat him right. He’s cute and sexy as hell. What I would do to sit on that-”

“Hey, watch what you’re saying.” The reporter glares. “That’s my man you’re talking about.”

You sulk and brush your hair to the side. “God, why are you so whipped already?”

He raises his camera, the lense pointed straight at the empty hotel bedroom and he goes quiet. From where you are, you’re barely able to notice the details but you quickly find two figures leaving the bathroom. “Yoongi? What’s going on?”

“Oh my god.” He snaps a bunch of photos, flash turned off and the shutter sound quiet in comparison to the rustling leaves. “Y/N, you’re gonna want to see this.”

You take the camera from him, closing one eye to look through the viewfinder and a gasp breaks from your throat. “It's the singer, Roe Soyi.”

The young girl is recognizable from meters away. Many years ago, she was an idol before she broke off from her group to become a solo artist. She’s younger than you are, more successful too and as beautiful as the pictures make her out to be. The popularity of the singer is off the charts and if you can get a story about her, it would certainly break the audience records.

“What is she doing?” You watch as an older man, gray hair and wrinkles marring his visage, reaching down to dig into a large black bag. The two of them are barely wearing any clothing, fluffy bathrobes hanging off their frames. As you continue to observe, the man opens up a smaller bag, licks his thumb and is seen counting a stack of green bills.

In the meanwhile, you capture different shots until the man throws the horde of money onto the bed. “Is she…” You’re interrupted by another gasp, hitting Yoongi several times on the shoulder.

“Ow, ow, ow.” He rubs the aching muscle, avoiding your fist. “Stop it, Y/N! What?!”

“I know him! I know him!” The recognition hits you like a bullet train and you don’t know why you didn’t realize it beforehand. “That man, I recognize him! He’s Hong Pyungho, a politician that’s running again in the new election. He was doing campaigns and everything to run a second time.”

The late nights of watching current news programs and curling next to Seokjin’s warm body has finally come to some use. You have never felt more happy about watching the news before. “He has a wife and a six-year old daughter.”

“Oh, his family wouldn’t like this then,” Yoongi mumbles. “What are they doing now?”

“The door’s opening, it’s room service.” You use the camera lense like it’s binoculars and you squint, attempting to capture each detail as you continue to take shots. Another thought barrels into the forefront of your mind and your breath gets caught in your lungs.

“Yoongi….how much does a room like that cost?”

“This is actually a really fancy place, I don’t know. I’d say maybe five hundred a night and plus the room service...in a spot like this, you could easily shed off eight hundred bucks. Why?”

“Just….” It can’t be true - at least for once, you hope your suspicions aren’t true. “..did you hear about anything else?”

“I have a friend who works at the airport. They said Soyi was going on a secret trip about a week ago to a villa with a secret lover. Took a private jet and everything but no one knows anything other than that. But apparently she looked pretty unhappy.”

“A private jet? A villa? An expensive hotel room….room service….the cash thrown on the bed. Oh my god.” The train of thought has halted hot on its tracks.

Soyi is crying, tears marking down her cheeks as she begins to strip off her robe. The fabric pools to her feet and the young girl kneels on the ground. The man holds her cheeks together with one hand and drags her face closer to his crouch. A nauseous feeling sews itself in the pits of your stomach. You don’t capture any pictures of the horrid sight. But you can’t look away either.

“Yoongi,” you begin with a broken voice, “I think she’s prostituting herself.”

Yoongi stays quiet. The recognition washes over the both of you - this story is going too out of your hands. It’s too big. It’s National News worthy.

“And I think he’s paying her with taxpayer dollars.”

//

The Local News department is chaotic.

In order to cover the National-worthy story as soon as possible, it’s pandemonium - fact checking, grabbing sources, stringing together a coherent report, getting witnesses and interviews, connecting it to other current news stories.

You barely get to see Seokjin anymore when he’s swamped up to his chin, pulling all nighters to get it done as fast as he can. Jungkook drinks all the coffee in his break room before sneaking into Celebrities’ to take more, even Sana gets no time to chit-chat and Namjoon spares you a single smile while he’s on several phone calls, speaking to his ear piece and two different mobile devices at the same time. Hoseok is thrown in meeting after meeting or at least that’s what Youngmi mentioned.

Each editor is reading over stacks and stacks of paper, not allowing for a moment's rest. They read and circle sections while walking into work, on the elevator, striding down the hall. The writers are in a similar state, hair jumbled and purple bags lining their eyes, muttering underneath their breaths as they scratch themselves through their dirty clothing.

It would be pretty disgusting if your team wasn’t so jealous.

The tension between both programs has decreased dramatically since one party is too busy to participate in throwing oil into the fire. Now, your colleagues are merely watching on the sidelines, bummed out and bitter that they didn’t get a chance to dip their hands into the story first. If they knew that you and Yoongi willingly handed it over them, they'd be absolutely furious.

But the reporter agreed with you. Competition aside, the story needs to be told in the best way possible. In this case, you trust Seokjin to deliver it objectively and accurately.

“It’s not good to be consuming so much caffeine especially when it’s this late.”

There’s a cup of hot tea sliding onto his wooden desk. His eyes immediately flicker upwards, startled to find you here and to hear your quiet voice. Seokjin sheepishly smiles at you, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing and giving a softer aura. “Hey…”

You look away, the action gives you a sense of déjà vu. But this time the tables have turned.

Seokjin was working well into the night while the others have left the office, having gone home to their warm homes and families. The only source of light was coming from his desk lamp, a yellow glow casting onto his white papers. The custodians whistle in the halls but the whirling of the vacuum cleaner echoing down keeps you both company in the otherwise silent space.

You were working late too and while making a trip to the washroom, you found his office occupied; a black head of hair and a concentrated face, teeth nibbling on the nail of his thumb. He was yawning every so often and sleepily rubbing his eyes. Instead of walking away like you did months ago, you stepped forward this time.

Now it was you making the first move.

“Thank you.”

In your memory, weeks ago, you had dumped out his offering. But in spite of that, Seokjin takes the cup and sips, muscles relaxing as the warmth spreads throughout his body. He reaches up, planting a quick kiss to your lips to show his gratitude. Your cheeks grow hot and you linger.

“Is it okay if I work with you? I have a few things to proofread.”

“You don’t need to ask.” He enthusiastically pulls out a chair beside him and grins happily at you. “Be my guest!”

You scoff playfully, planting yourself down with your own bundle of paper, working on the memorization process for tomorrow’s newscast. Every so often, you look up to find Seokjin hard at work, eyes sweeping across the page and his nose wrinkling with the occasional sniffle. It oddly reminds you of your university years and those rare days you sat across from him at the library.

“How is it?”

“We’re done!” He drops the paper on the desk and spins around his swivel chair, stretching out his stiff limbs and the kinks in his neck. “I’m just doing last minute tweaks so it sounds natural. We’re airing the story tomorrow.”

For the past few nights, your suspicions have been multiplying in your head and the curiosity has gotten too much to bear. “Was I right?”

“You were.”

The lump in your chest falls to your stomach and Seokjin matches your grimace. He slides the papers over to you and you pick them up, reading over the report. “Pyungho and a handful of other politicians have been prostituting a bunch of male and female celebrities. We got reports and the numbers don’t add up. Only a fraction of the campaign donations were actually being used properly. Not only that but they’ve been using taxpayer dollars to pass around these celebrities. It’s essentially sex trafficking at this point.”

You look back at him and he continues with a long sigh, “We have several witnesses and victims lined up to talk about it. Even Roe Soyi has agreed to speak to us with the condition that the photos that you and Yoongi took will be blurred out for the most part. She’s angry about Hong Pyungho and wants justice. Her interview will be released tomorrow.”

In the abyss of bleak news, there’s one silver lining.

The corner of Seokjin’s lip tugs and his irises glimmer at you. “We’ve caught them in the bag, Y/N. These scumbags will have nowhere to go but to prison.”

You can envision it - front pages, giant headlines, the public outrage, the police investigations and prosecutors marching into courthouses. Seokjin’s made a difference in the world. He’s fulfilled the ultimate journalist’s dream, using his skill set for good. You’ve never felt prouder.

“You did it.”

“I didn't. It was you.” Jin grins and wraps his arms around your waist. “You weren’t just right, Y/N. You’re a goddamn genius! If it weren’t for you...if it weren’t for you...I don’t even know.”

He begins to plant kisses on the corners of your mouth, your cheek, nose and forehead, smothering you with his love and affection. Giggles spill from your lips and he lifts you up, planting you straight onto his lap. “Why is my girlfriend so smart and sexy?”

You pull away. “Girlfriend?”

His mischievous smile is still plastered across his face. “Aren’t you?”

“That’s kind of the other thing that I wanted to talk to you about.” You twiddle your fingers in apprehension, hesitating and struggling to pick the right words. “I mean...what are we, Seokjin? Officially. Are we dating?”

“Hmmm. I thought we are. But I mean, I love you,” he says it so casually like it’s a fact he’s always known and it leaves you bewildered, “So, we can be whatever you want to be. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Lovers. Partners.” The man wiggles his brows in a playful manner. “Master and pet?”

“Psh, shut up. I just needed to know.” Still on his thigh, you lean your head on his shoulder and Jin rubs your sides until you’ve melted in his touch. You hum, mumbling underneath your breath, “And you know, I wouldn’t have realized that man was a politician if not for all the current news that you make watch.”

His fingers that were slowly tracing up your inner thigh freezes. There’s a pregnant pause.

“Are you admitting that Local News is better than Celebrity News?”

You lift your head with a grin and you snake your arms around his neck, tugging him in for an extended kiss. His plush lips press against yours perfectly and you smile. “You wish.”

The hour beforehand is always the most intense.

“We got five minute until we’re on air!” The producer shouts across the room, triggering an immediate rush and adding to the hecticness as well as the high strung, tense atmosphere.

“Seokjin!”

A large figure physically barrels into the room, accidentally crashing into the door. The ruckus causes the chaos to pause for a split second, people whirling their heads around before the pandemonium ensues. There’s no time to waste, not when-

“We’re on air in four minutes!”

Namjoon is huffing and puffing, bent over with his hands on his knees, glasses slipping from the slope of his nose as he tries to catch his breath. The poor writer sprinted across the entire building and up seven flights of stairs.

On the other hand, a man of similar height, big and bright eyes greets him with a charming smile. He’s in a black blazer, ironed white shirt tucked into his dress pants to match. His hair is also gelled with his forehead revealed, neat and without a strand sticking out. The male is dressed for success. “What’s the matter, Joon?”

“Did you see the-”

“I saw it. Calm down. Things are fine.” The other grins in a confident manner amidst the commotion. “I know.”

Sana skedaddles over, scolding Namjoon for running and hurting himself while asking if he’s okay.

Meanwhile, at the exact same time, sleepy eyes and a mop of black locks passes by your large office. He sticks his head into the room and your eyes glimmer. “Did the date go well?”

“It did.” Yoongi smiles, the happiest you’ve seen him at this time of day. “You won’t believe the mouth that Jimin has, god, I thought I was going to-”

“You fucking lucky bastard.” You chuck your pen at the reporter, scowling while he laughs, walking off and disappearing down the hall. “I’m not interested in your sex life either, you know!”

Time continues to tick.

You begin to warm your throat, singing up and down the scale, practicing your pronunciation with the script held tightly in your hands. Your tongue rolls r’s and you mutter tongue twisters, preparing a crystal clear voice that is to speak without a moment of uncertainty.

“Everyone get ready! Two more minutes!”

Seokjin combs his hair in the reflection of the camera lense. You pull out your sleek lipstick tube from your pouch, facing the window wall of your office and applying the shade to your lips, smearing and popping your mouth to spread the colour evenly.

Jin takes a deep inhale. You exhale. He shuts his eyes. You open them wide.

“Have you-”

“Yes.” He answers with another smile, plopping down on the chair. “I’ve kept up with the news.”

“Have you looked over the script yet?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, situating yourself comfortably in the seat. “Of course I did.”

There’s one more minute left. The camera operator is behind the lense, audio engineer and broadcast technicians in the room at the back. The writers are standing with their clipboards in the darkness, Namjoon among them. The producer shoots a thumbs up for encouragement. The spotlight beams down on the two, nearly causing them to break a sweat at their foreheads.

Things are perfect. In a minute, the red light of the camera will flicker on. It’ll be a success if a full hour is made without any major screw ups. If he does exceptionally well, he may even get a reward tonight from a certain someone.

Time - why couldn’t it move faster?

3… 2… 1…

The music begins to play. Words flash and spin on screen with a globe rotating in the back and fancy lines running from edge to edge.

‘Live! This is channel seven Local News at six with Kim Seokjin and Jeon Jungkook.’

The broadcast technician signals the two anchormen and the red light of the camera sparks ‘on’.

“Good evening and welcome to Local News at six.” The sanguine male radiates confidence and charm, speaking calmly and distinctly. The women in the room are already swooning and the men are dripping in envy, hanging onto his every syllable and admiring his handsomeness.

“I am Kim Seokjin.”

The boy beside him nods his head. “And I am Jeon Jungkook.”

Across the building, on the same floor, you feel Taehyung hitching his breath next to you. A ‘wow’ spills from his lips. “Is it just me or has Jungkook improved his wardrobe selection. Like he looks a lot more-”

“Shut it.” You slap your hand over your partner’s mouth, eyes still glued to the screen playing the live Local News program. There’s not a second that you want to miss. “I’m listening.”

“Our top story tonight is about children from an elementary school. This school in the east had recently opened to three hundred kids. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a playground in place and people in the community stepped up to start a festival, raising money for the construction-”

Yoongi appears, chuckling and shaking his head. “You are so whipped.”

Taehyung is confused by the remark and you scowl, bearing your teeth like a predator. Yoongi is undeterred by your glare. “Will you shut u-”

“Shush. Silence.” Ironically enough, he puts a finger to his own lip and his eyes narrow when Jimin appears to do a report. You scoff and Yoongi leans in closer to pick up every syllable.

Local News has been doing well for themselves ever since they made the report on the politician scandal. It had rippled the entire country, causing other sources to pick up the case and do digging themselves. But currently, it was being resolved by the law, officers and lawyers alike. You’re still proud of Seokjin and the Local News team for their abilities in revealing the secrets and saving those who deserve to be saved.

Towards the end of the broadcast, the attention is brought back onto the screen.

“For our last story, we actually have a few of those elementary students with us today.” Seokjin smiles, relaxing from his stiff posture and the camera pans over to the kindergarteners who are running all over the set, curiously poking their noses into the camera lenses. “You’re on T.V. Say hi!”

They giggle and Jungkook seems taken back, almost scared of them and Taehyung laughs. On the other hand, Jin picks up a little girl struggling to get onto the main desk. She grins at him and he mirrors the lopsided smile.

“I have to admit…” One of the writers watching pipes up, “It’s too bad that Seokjin’s the enemy. He’s husband material.”

Instead of feeling jealous, you wholeheartedly agree.

The program begins to end, Seokjin thanking viewers for tuning in while Jungkook concours, trying to bid the audience farewell while getting trampled on by a bunch of five-year olds. The camera begins to pan out and Seokjin’s gaze drips of endearment. He lightly pinches the child’s rosy cheeks and matches their smile. Before the music can completely drown him out, the audio picks up his voice-

“Hopefully, I’ll have a kid like this with my girlfriend sometime soon.”

The credits roll. Your heart stutters. There’s a wave of exchanged mutters in the room.

“He has a girlfriend?!”, “Since when did he have a girlfriend?”, “Kim Seokjin is taken?!”

There are gasps and exhales, some full of shock and others of disappointment. Yoongi discreetly smirks and Taehyung frowns, turning to you. “Did you know about this?” You open your mouth but your tongue is utterly speechless. All you manage is a small shrug.

“We’re on in one minute!” A person from the technician room announces loudly and on screen, commercials begin to roll. The set clears off and you prepare yourself alongside Taehyung.

With hands clasped on top of the desk and the countdown begins, all you hope is that your skin isn’t too noticeably flushed.

3… 2… 1…

//

Hiding your relationship with Seokjin isn’t simple or easy.

Without a doubt, there’s a definite thrill to it. From time to time, adrenaline courses through your veins when you’re sneaking off in the background together, going off into the supply closet, holding hands underneath tables or in the elevators when no one’s watching, swapping secret kisses while passing each other.

But most often than not, you’re always afraid that someone will finally pick up on all the cues and realize Seokjin isn’t just trying to tease you or get under your skin anymore.

“What are you doing here?”

He gives you a cheeky grin. “What do you mean?”

Before you’ve even gotten your morning dose of caffeine, you find Seokjin leaning against the building's wall outside, right by the front door, smiling the moment you come into sight. He holds out his left hand and you take the coffee with a murmured ‘thanks’. Jin opens the door for you, ushering you in and you giggle at his courtesy.

“Did you really have to wait for me outside?” The pair of you are walking across the lobby in synchronized steps, speaking in low murmurs so others can't eavesdrop.

“Why?” He steals a glance. “You don't want to see me?”

“No. I just…” You take a moment to search for the right words. “I just think that you're making things too obvious. People are going to start suspecting us.”

“So? Let them watch.” The side of his mouth lifts to a smirk. “It's more fun with an audience anyways.”

“God, you never get enough, do you?” You press the button, waiting patiently for the elevators and your lips meet the rim of the coffee cup, taking a much needed sip. “We could've driven to work this morning. It saves on gas.”

“What happened to not wanting others to suspect us?”

You contemplate his question. “I mean we can park a block away and walk.”

“Together?” He steps into the elevator once the metal doors have parted and you follow suit, allowing it to close on its own.

“Well, I’m just saying that we're practically sleeping over at the same place. There's no point in driving two different cars.” You hum. “Speaking of which, why don't you just move in already? All your stuff is at my apartment. You can't freeload off your girlfriend, you know. You gotta play fair and split the bills.”

“Fine.” He kisses your cheek quickly. “I'll move in with you this weekend, alright? Does that make baby happy?”

“I-...you-!” You're appalled to have your bedroom nickname spoken at such a public place in broad daylight but Jin looks at you expectedly, waiting for a response. You pout. “Yes.”

The elevator ‘dings’ as it reaches the proper floor.

The door parts and his cocky expression never erases, having you right where he wants you, twisted around his fingers. “Have a good day at work and I’ll see you afterwards.”

Right as you expect him to strut off, his palm lightly ricochets off your ass, spanking you and leaving your senses tingling. A gasp breaks through your mouth and he smirks. “Be a good girl for me.”

You watch with your jaw dropped as he walks off and into the opposite direction. A scoff breaks through your throat, an eye roll to accompany it but you can't resist the little smile either.

//

“Alright, guys!” Youngmi is shuffling papers at the front. “For today’s newsroom meeting, we have a number of things to go through.”

The writers and editors sit around the conference room table, Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right. Your co-anchor is flipping through a few tabloid magazines and the reporter is drinking his third coffee of the day. As enjoyable as the meetings are, you’ve been extremely sleepy these days since Jin keeps you up well into the night and-

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Youngmi reads off the agenda and all heads turn to you.

You blink once. “Pardon?”

“It says here that you need to go talk to the chief-in-editor, Andy Lee.” She looks up, unaware of what’s exactly going on in the written reminder. “Something about how with Roe Soyi stepping up with other celebrities,” she reads with confusion, “The...climate's finally right?”

Oh my god.

“Oh my god.” You sit up, startled and your eyes widened. “M-my segment.”

Your head snaps to the corner of the room where Namjoon is. The writer, like you, is beginning to smile and you feel tears well up in your eyes. The others remain oblivious and you stand up from your seat, bolting straight out the door and down the hall despite your name being called.

The editor sits by his desk, tapping away at his keyboard and when you hurl your body into his office, huffing and puffing from having ran up three levels, he grins. “So, I’m guessing you heard?”

“Y-yes.”

You’re not a failure. The story that you’ve been working on, the perfect timing has ultimately come. The oncoming success is knocking at your front door. Finally, you can tell your story.

The editor-in chief nods his head. “Let’s do it, Y/N.”

Life couldn’t be any better.

//

At eight o’clock, with both Local News and the Celebrity News program finished, everyone is snagging their coats and ready to check out for the day. Tonight, the entire team is going out to a bar to grab drinks together. It’s been a long time and with the stress of the deadline coming up, it’s been getting to everybody.

At the end of this week, in seven days, the higher ups of the broadcasting company will decide what program they want to cut. It’s only going to be a downwards spiral from there.

“Where are we going tonight? I need a drink so badly right now.”

You dig your hands in your pocket, waiting for your partner, Taehyung. The boy purses his lips for a second. “Actually, I think I’m going to have to skip today.”

“What?” Yoongi halts, suddenly interested in the conversation.

You look up as well. It wasn’t like Taehyung to opt out of a social gathering. He was the hype man mood-maker. He lived for these sorts of things. “Where are you going?”

The anchor sheepishly smiles. “I may or may not have a date.”

He’s too suspicious and you already have an inkling of the true culprit.

“With Jungkook?”

The boy dramatically gasps, putting his hand over his mouth and he steps back. He is genuinely shocked, wondering if you’re a mind-reader. Taehyung leans in close and whispers, “How did you know?”

You wink at him. “That’s a secret.”

The reporter exchanges a look with you and the both of you pat Taehyung on the back, wishing him luck and easing him of his nerves. All of you are about to step out of the room but you’re interrupted with an eardrum-bursting “WAIT!”.

Everyone turns their heads around to Youngmi who stands in the middle of the office area between the desks. Your program director is visibly nervous and disoriented. This is all too familiar of a scene and you’ve felt like you’ve experienced something similar to this before.

The writers exhale, not liking the sound of the interruption. Youngmi relaxes herself. She’s more calm and collected than before and you realize how oddly radiant she looks. You can only begin to guess the reason.

“Before we all leave, there’s an emergency meeting.” This time, unlike the first, you don't need to ask questions. She beats you to the chase. “We’re having a meeting with Local News.”

//

The atmosphere is tense.

It’s not strained due to pure hatred or rage but something more. While the writers and editors glare with fire beneath their eyes, there’s a mischievous glint in Seokjin’s gaze to you. His foot rubs against your leg but you kick him roughly, giving him a telepathic warning not to mess around in such a tight space with the others around. He sulks but you turn a blind eye, ignoring him.

Taehyung is sneaking glances of Jungkook while the latter blatantly stares straight at him. Jimin grins at Yoongi and the reporter focuses down on his lap, trying to keep it together in front of his co-workers. Sana is openly cozying up to Namjoon’s side while the two program directors are mumbling outside the door together.

The air of the small meeting room isn’t only charged from wrath but also sexual tension.

“So…” Hoseok enters the room and captures the attention of each person, shattering the heavy silence that weighed on your shoulders. “..as you all know, the higher ups wanted to adjust the time schedules based on ratings and views.”

There are mutual murmurs amongst the people and Youngmi smiles at Hoseok, stepping up. “As you know, originally on this channel, half the time is dedicated to local news and the other half is dedicated to the celebrity news program. Fifty fifty, time slots cut straight down the middle.”

They inhale a breath. You hold yours. No one moves or shifts. The anticipation builds until it’s unbearable. Hoseok grins, purposely keeping everyone on edge for his own enjoyment. It’s only once Youngmi has nudged him that he breathes, enunciates loudly and clearly, punctuating each syllable and having potential to be a newscaster himself.

“They decided that it’s too messy to alter anything and things are getting out of hand. So, everything is going to be left the way they’ve always been. There won’t be any changes.”

There’s a drawn out silence. The revelation is delayed, slowly soaking into your brain.

No more stupid segments. No more death corners. No more viral video discussions.

You whip your head to Seokjin. No more competition. He smiles at you and you’ve never felt more blissful.

There’s a loud cheer, editors and writers standing up to hug each other. Sana celebrates by kissing Namjoon right on the lips, catching the journalist off guard. Yoongi shakes hands with Jimin, repressing the urge to engulf the man in an embrace. Taehyung fist pumps the air, Jungkook doing a standing ovation. The two program directors watch the commemoration.

“Good work, Miss. L/N.” Seokjin grins at you from across the table.

You nod your head several times in agreement. “You too, Mr. Kim.”

It’s not like the rivalry and conflicts of both programs have been solved by a mere statement. The competition is still very much alive but each individual is too overjoyed at the prospects of no longer being cut of their work hours or losing their entire careers. It’s certainly a sight to watch an editor from Local hug a writer from Celebrity but it’s not much of a surprise for everyone to agree to go out for drinks together. This is indeed the time to celebrate.

“Hey, where’s Taehyung?” One of your colleagues turns around and asks you, car keys in hand and others already shuffling into the back seat.

Jungkook is nowhere to be found either but you don’t comment, shrugging it off. “I think he forgot something in his office. He might come later on.”

Youngmi is chatting with Hoseok, the pair of them laughing as they get into the same vehicle, carpooling together to the bar. An editor stops by your side and shakes his head, grumbling, “There is something definitely going on between them.”

“We should put our investigation skills to work.” Seokjin appears by your side with a laugh.

The editor chuckles back and then turns away from the road. “Are you both coming with us?”

“Oh.” You hitch your thumb to Jin’s car, hoping that you won’t be interrogated too much. “We’re gonna carpool together. Jin owes me one...so…”

“Okay.” They don’t suspect a thing. “See you there then.”

All of your colleagues and Jin’s shuffle into their respective cars, assigning designated drivers and chatting together on the streets until the engines are turned on and they begin to pull away from the curb. Sana and Namjoon cling onto each other before they’re off as well. From behind, you catch Yoongi and Jimin holding hands, deciding to take the ten minute walk instead of driving. Your reporter friend smiles at you, winking over his shoulder as the pair of them disappear down the street.

It’s finally silent.

Before opening the car door, Seokjin spins around his feet and captures your waist in his hands. He dips you back and you yelp in surprise as he kisses you. You laugh when the pair of you break apart.

“What was that for?”

“Just...everything.” He gently presses his forehead against yours, savouring your warmth and scent, every single thing that is you. “Thank you for trusting me. For giving me a chance to love you.”

You smile against his lips, locking your hands around his shoulders. “The pleasure’s mine, Kim Seokjin. Thank you for loving me and….”

Although you don’t know what tomorrow will bring, if your future is bright or bleak and you feel like a child stumbling in the darkness with too many questions, you are certain that no matter what changes come - Jin will always be here with you.

“I love you too.”

[stylessemantics]

VII-2: Oh Marcel (AU part II)

Also called: The Marcel Smut (Read part one here)

Shout out to @overad​ and @legend-waitforit-harry​, my main babes to talk all marcel things about. Also to J(legend-waitforit-harry) and @harrysperfectdimple​ for being angels and beta reading this big chunk of words T.T you’re the real MVPs

Prompt: Harry, pitifully called Marcel as a sour joke, is a nice, young, straight-A student, with a bully that hates him on a personal level, and what he thinks is an unattainable crush on his bully’s ex, who he’s started to tutor and befriend despite how much he dreams of her in the dirtiest of situations. Maybe little old marcel has a chance?

In which Harry and y/n start to form a beautiful friendship, stained by y/n’s past and Jonathan’s blind rage.

Harry felt relieved as he punched his way through a boxing routine, happy he was able to move around a class due to the teacher cancelling on the original time, so he was free to pick up the sport once more at the gym close to campus. For some reason boxing helped him relax. Something about delivering blow after blow to a punching bag felt very liberating. Like screaming without actually having to scream. Only one thing wasn’t allowing him to fully concentrate on his class.

The instructor had told him to drink water and rest up before the next set of exercises and that’s when he glanced through the glass walls and door that divided the boxing area from the rest of the gym and spotted her stretching. Harry immediately gave his back to her direction and cursed under his breath, eyes blowing wide open. Y/N came to this gym too? It made perfect sense, it was close to campus and it wasn’t that expensive, specially for the students. But he didn’t think he’d ever run into her at any place other than the hallways, when they would, by random chance, intersect in the same building. His hands felt sweaty under the bulky red gloves as he remembered the embarrassment that was talking to her last time when she had come around with his forgotten notebook. Harry, with a fast beating heart, tried his best to focus on just hitting the bag, but his mind would wander and he itched to look back at her. She hadn’t noticed him and deep down he wanted that to stay that way. He didn’t really want her to see him all sweaty and tattoos full on display.

Although, when he thought about it, now that he had finished working at the tech place he had been working as a paid intern at, he didn’t have to wear the mandatory vests, so everyone would see his tattoos full on display when he went back to class later in the afternoon not in his classic button up. His contract ended and he didn’t want to continue working there. Instead he applied to go back to his first part time job at the bakery down the road. He figured he had saved up enough money working at a boring tech firm long enough, so he just waited until his contract was up and packed up his things. He was grateful for the experience and all the things he’d learned but he was about ready to go to a much more fun job that would still give him enough cash to get through campus living. It all worked perfectly with his changed schedule, plus he enjoyed the smell of freshly baked goods any time of the day.

He rushed to the showers right after his routine was over. He stretched in the boxing area, still cautious that y/n wouldn’t spot him, and ran to get clean and changed into some comfortable post-workout attire. Pushing his glasses up his nose he took a big breath before walking as fast as he could without looking like a lunatic, over to the staircase that led to the exit of the gym. He kept his gaze down. Maybe if I don’t look up she won’t see me, he kept thinking to himself in a clearly dumb logic. It’s not that he didn’t want to see her – God, all he wanted to do was see her, no matter when. And talk to her – but it was the latter he could never do when she was in front of him, so he would rather avoid running into her all together so that he’d never end up looking like a nitwit in front of her again.

It’s obvious that if you’re not looking at something other than your feet as you walk, you are bound to crash into something, anything, at some point. Which is exactly what happened to Harry. He felt his body collide with another body and with his luck, before his brain could figure out the shapes and colours, he already knew he had crashed straight into y/n, and since they were at the very top of the stairs, the blow had sent her almost tumbling over. His reflexes kicked in and his hands reached out as he pulled her to him, keeping her from barrelling down the flight of steps.

With wide eyes and at this proximity Harry noticed the light in her eyes, and the redness to her cheeks that was extremely adorable and making him blush and stumble over his words.

“I-I… M’ so sorry!” she smiled at him one of her signature sweet smiles and for a second Harry wondered why he needed cardio after all.

“It’s ok! Hi Harry! I didn’t see you here, came for a workout?” Inside her mind she was slapping herself, because what else could someone go to the gym for? She didn’t know why but Harry made her a bit clumsy. She liked his company; the sudden inexplicable nerves that came with it? Not so much.

“Uh y-yeah. I umm… I took b-boxing back up…”

It was funny to watch. How they both seemed to be at a loss for words, how they both looked a lot more flustered than someone who’d just finished a workout routine. How Harry still had his arm around her and held her very close to his frame. Although this one he noticed and he immediately let go of her, careful not to push her back too harshly, as he cleared his throat.

“Would you like to grab breakfast with me?” she asked suddenly and Harry didn’t know what to answer. So he did what he knew how to do best: fix his glasses incessantly. It was a nervous tick. He’d remove them and wipe them and fidget them back on, tap at them, then push and pull and push and pull as his brain wracked for something to say, or rather tried to remember how to tell the mouth the correct positions to go to so that he could form words.

“I just… I uh… I have c-class…” it wasn’t a lie. He did have class… In four hours. But y/n didn’t know that and all she could do was nod as she made him promise that next time he’d grab a bite to eat with her after the gym, to which Harry had to say yes – not that he wasn’t dying to – and continued playing with his glasses during.

Deep down Harry knew he would never be able to grab a casual bite with the girl that flooded his dreams, the girl that made him reconsider running the treadmill – beyond everything, the conversation had left him breathless and with a heartbeat he could worriedly call a doctor about – the girl that made his chest and pants tight at just the glance of her hips in the fitting activewear she donned for the day. But it was nice to imagine. It was nice to wonder. To think that he could be the confident guy who asks her instead, and takes her out and keeps a nice conversation flowing, enough so he can charm her in some way that she’d want to hang out with him more and more.

It was nice to imagine.

And he didn’t need to imagine it much because he found himself being silently beckoned over by a whispering y/n that same night at the library.

“Hey” she spoke in hushed tones as he sat down in front of her with shaky hands and taking a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Harry let out a tiny “hi” in response and forced his eyes to focus on the textbooks in front of him. Y/N understood, after all she was here to study as well.

It was hard not to notice her struggle silently after a while. She kept sighing and every time she erased something she did it a bit more furiously than the last. It was difficult for Harry not to take a peek at her exercises from over the rim of his glasses. With a small grin he figured out the answer to the question with ease in his mind, and leaned his hand over to her notes, circling down the correct option as she looked at him amused and confused.

“It’s Thermochemistry…” he whispered leaning back to pay attention to his notes.

“What?” was all she asked and Harry lifted his book so she could see the front. Of course he was taking Chemistry IV when she was on her second time taking Chem 101 and on her way to fail it again. “How?” she asked to which he just shrugged. Chemistry was his thing. He liked it. In fact he was taking it as extra credits, quite literally just for fun.

“I like it” Harry said taking a quick glance at the clock and noticing it was about time to go. The library was closing soon and y/n also got the hint, hurriedly picking up after herself while staring at Harry. To y/n, any one that liked or could deal with chemistry was a study case. It was her worst subject all through high school, and all the time she lost pulling at her roots to learn it made her eventually hate the matter, so she couldn’t understand how someone could get any of it, let alone also like it to the point of needing or wanting to take the subject 4 times, each with more complex topics than the last. In that moment, Harry seemed like an alien of some sort – specially cause his green eyes never cease to look extremely green – but he also looked like an angel. A blessing.

Harry found himself agreeing to y/n’s claims for the second time that day. Whatever she said – no matter how hard it made it for him to breathe and how much anxiety the thought of her caused him – he found himself nodding to. In his nervous tick he started messing with his glasses when she asked him the craziest thing ever.

“T-tutor… you? Me? I mean…” Her eyes were shining as they walked side by side down the field and in the direction of her building. She nodded excitedly, quietly begging for him to agree. When you put it in perspective it was logical. If you are failing a subject and know someone that could help, why not ask them to help? But even in his smart brain, the situation sounded so insane and out of this world. Him? Tutor her? His palms were already sweaty and his mind felt like it was starting to forget the most basic of the elements in the periodic table. Was it Helium, Lithium, Beryllium? Where was Oxygen again? Still, he was saying yes and agreeing on a time and a place before he knew it. 

Biology wasn’t his best subject, but he believed there had to be some substance she expelled out of her body to make him agree to whatever she asked for so easily.

“Not bad” Harry hummed, reading over one of the exercises he’d asked y/n to do, pushing his hair out of his face and sliding his glasses up his nose as he scribbled on the sides of the paper. Compared to how little he had explained so far and how much she seemed to be struggling, the sheet had more correct answers than he thought he would achieve on the second day of tutoring her.

Y/N was sat at his desk in his dorm room and Harry’s sweaty palms had calmed down a lot since she arrived an hour before. The whole idea of tutoring her was still crazy to him, specially when in the back of his mind he knew that before she was set to arrive, he had taken a nap and dreamt, once more, of her riding his thigh and moaning his name in his ear, and Harry just had to jerk himself off quickly before the real y/n showed up at his door. It was hard to look at her smiling face whenever she understood a concept, and not picture how much he would like to have her spread on his mattress under his body, or wonder how accurate her real life moans were compared to the ones his subconscious made in his imagination, but Harry was making his best efforts to continue focused despite the looming memory of that one dream.

“Awesome!” she chirped back, reading Harry’s notes on the sides of her exercises and putting them in her backpack to revise later. Letting out a sigh she picks up the rest of her materials and books. “I’m spent, and hungry” y/n groans and Harry can’t help but chuckle. Thankfully the past study sessions had also served him to not be so stuttery and shy around her, allowing him to get somewhat comfortable when it came to talking to her.

To him it seemed like a miracle that he’d ever be able to be fairly casual around y/n, but he was handling it so well he even surprised himself – and y/n a little – when he let out a “Let’s go grab something to eat then” after she’d stretched and gotten up from her seated position with a smile after Harry’s statement.

That’s how, 15 minutes later, y/n finds herself sat in a booth at a burger joint in front of a Harry that she’d started getting to know slowly. Deep down she was also thankful that she seemed to be getting along with Harry smoothly, knowing how strangely nervous she would get around him. A few weeks back she was completely convinced that Harry never saw her as a friend, considering how he basically avoided talking to her, but she’s glad to see him speaking freely and see herself laughing along with the curly lad as they joke over what’s left of her serving of fries. And y/n didn’t know it then, but Harry felt the same way.

“You know…” she starts, intrigued and amused by how quickly they had grown more comfortable around each other “I always thought you didn’t like me” Y/N’s cheeks are flushed red under Harry’s strong gaze through his frames.

“What? Why?” Harry wonders out loud, fixing his glasses around. How could she think he didn’t like her? Quite contrary, he was shocked she didn’t already know he died inside every time he caught a glimpse of her smiling his way. Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know, we never really talked much” “I did like yeh. I do.” the words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and so Harry’s left scrambling to make sure his actual feelings aren’t exposed on the booth’s table. “I mean, you uh… You j-just looked nice and... and I never really knew w-what to say to you, s-so I… I don’t know I k-kept my distance?” luckily y/n nods, understanding what he meant.

“You know what you could have talked to me about?” “What?” “Chemistry 101. We had it together! Maybe I wouldn’t be taking it for the second time if you had spoken to me back then” she jokes, mocking anger and pointing at him accusingly, making Harry throw his head back in laughter. “Oh god. Yeah, maybe” he says, shrugging after taking a deep breath and sip from his soda “but I didn’t want you to hold me back” he smirks, biting back at her joke making her gasp in shock. “Harry!” and they both continue to poke fun at each other and fill the small restaurant with loud laughs that could easily get them kicked out if it wasn’t for the fact that the place was almost empty.

The laughs they share and details they discover about each other, keeps both Harry and y/n busy enough not to see the seething stares of one young bully from across the street. Jonathan’s fists tighten at the sight, almost drawing blood, and if his personal vendetta with Harry wasn’t already personal enough, this had just made it.

Walking to and from his dorm to class was about a level 4 out of 10 of a dangerous situation for Harry. He tried to do it early, or when a lot of people were around so he could blend in and escape Jonathan whenever he could.

And in hindsight, Harry wonders if he’d been more alert and less occupied on what he would teach y/n later that afternoon – and how cute she’ll look once again – maybe he would have noticed that, this time around, Jonathan had a hawk-like vision driven by rage and hunger for his target, him. Maybe he would have noticed that today Jonathan seemed a lot more angry than any other time he’d faced the broad shoulders of what many would call his nemesis. Maybe he would have been more prepared to receive the punch that left him blank for 10 seconds.

Harry couldn’t pinpoint it at the moment, but every kick and shove, came with a venomous tongue, like Jonathan had wanted to inflict so much more damage than ever before. Harry’s ears rang as he felt another blow to his head, and he stumbled back, books long forgotten and glasses surely broken at his side. Was this what getting the shit beat out of you was? Was this his death? He wondered, but thankfully a passerby turned out to be a friend, that rushed to his aid, and through a blurry view, he made the outline of a man that helped him back to his dorm.

Y/N almost about screamed at the sight.

“Oh my god!” she said letting her books drop to the ground and entering Harry’s room, grabbing his face in her hands and inspecting all the bruises. A purple eye, scrapes and scratches along his cheeks, a busted lip and dried blood all around his features. “What the fuck?!”

Harry winced stepping back from her and letting his body down on his mattress. He waved his hand at her, dismissing the issue like it was no big deal, saying it looked worse than it felt, which didn’t ease y/n’s mind in the least, as she dropped to her knees in front of Harry and took a closer look.

“Harry…” “‘M fine, S’just a purple eye and a scrape ‘ere and there” “This is not just a-” “I’m fine” he says taking a hold of her hand and giving her a comforting smile that does anything but comfort her, but she drops it for the time being, looking to his bedside table, where his spare glasses sat untouched next to the broken ones, and handing him back the bag of ice he apparently had pressed to his face before she arrived. Harry insisted on continuing his chemistry tutoring, claiming that if his memory didn’t fail him, her teacher was one for surprise quizzes.

“Harry…” y/n mumbled, poking at his side. He kept swaying and dozing off on her and her worry levels were at about 15 out of 10. “Hm” he groans, shaking his head as if coming back to life. “Harry, please, I’m worried” “S’ nothing. Jus’ a headache… feeling a bit woozy” “What if you have a concussion?” she presses on, biting her lip in fear. Harry needed a doctor ASAP and he was being so stubborn not letting her take him to one. Harry scoffed at her remark. “Christ, y/n, I don’t ‘ave a concussion” but his words were slurred and slower than usual, and the look on her face tugged at Harry’s heartstrings. She was fidgety and scared. He sighed “Fine… if it makes yeh feel any better, we’ll go to the emergency room” “Please!” y/n was on her feet and gathering her belongings in a flash, as Harry swayed to and fro, holding on to his throbbing head and taking slow steps towards her. Y/N tried her best to help the tall man leaning against her small frame on the way to her car, and in a rush towards a doctor before any of the very dark and horrible scenarios in her head could seep in.

Harry’s eye looked better and his wounds had been cleaned properly in a matter of minutes, by a nice nurse that kept reassuring y/n that her ‘boyfriend’ would be fine and she should stop worrying, but she couldn’t as she saw Harry, dead silent on a hospital bed and she sat by his side.

“No concussion miss, we’ve cleaned his wounds and gave him some medication for the pain, he might be a little dizzy and sleepy for a while. I’d recommend he sleeps it off” a doctor had told her with a soothing voice which relieved her greatly – at least the doctor had a voice that could calm her down, and the news she brought eased y/n visibly –

“Hmmm” Harry groaned, not bothering to open his eyes any wider than little slits, when y/n tried to get him back on his feet and towards her car after everything had been cleared up. Y/N took a deep breath in and out, trying her best not to worry anymore. He was fine. Nothing too bad had happened, and now he needed to rest. “C’mon you need to sleep” she gave him a soft smile as she helped him back into his dorm room and on the way to his bed and he groaned. “What time is it?” he whispered letting his body fall on the mattress. The headache was a lot less poignant and they had applied some ointment or whatever, on his eye that would help it miraculously heal faster. “Around 3:30, why?” “Ugh–” he grumbled – ”Have… a class soon”

Y/n’s hands pushed back at Harry’s chest immediately sensing that he’d want to get up and get on his way to a class that he clearly wasn’t in good enough state to attend to. “Jesus, no, Harry.” “I 'afta...” “You can’t attend a class this way. You need to sleep, and that’s final” she added with a stern voice anticipating his interruption. Harry let himself be tucked in by y/n’s delicate hands. “Can’t miss it… Exam soon” his words were cut short, his body ready to shut down, drunk with numbing drugs that he could no longer fight against. “I… I’ll go take notes for you, okay? But you need to sleep” “I have a… complicated note system” “Of course you do” y/n giggles. “I’ll try my best”

Any other moment Harry would refute, but just this one time he nodded to her words and allowed his eyes to close for a second, his bed had something like a magnetic pull suddenly, felt comfier than ever to his bruised body. “Just record it, yeah?” “I got it, no problem. Do call me if you need me, anything, I’ll be back after my class at 5, yeah?” and like a child being taken care of his mother when he was sick, Harry hummed an agreement and felt y/n’s lips drop a small kiss on his forehead. “Take… key” he says however he can, pointing to his keychain by the door so y/n can let herself back in afterwards, in case he was still knocked out from the medication, before settling into his covers with a groan of pain. And with that y/n left to try and make sense of a sociology class and Harry’s complex yet precise note taking system.

Even in a drug heavy nap, Harry can make the outline of y/n’s bare body in his dream, and it’s around two hours later when he wakes up alert, and much more relieved, that he decides he needs a cold shower for two reasons before y/n came back.

He takes a moment in his shower to think about how his life seems to be a dream itself. He still has a hard time accepting the fact that he’s been talking and hanging out with y/n more and more the last few days, and that he can now laugh and joke around her. His heart still beats the same erratic way and his blood rushes in his veins like it used to, and she still haunts his dreams most of the time, waking him up in a sweat and with an itch to press her down on his body, but now he gets to have the real y/n a lot closer than he used to and it’s messing with his head in ways he doesn’t know how to deal with yet.

He’s just stepping out of the shower and into his room, clad in a towel wrapped around his hips and with the cold air nipping at his shoulders, where droplets of water fall from the curly tips of his hair, when the door to his dorm is closed shut after y/n allows herself in. She’s confused at the sight of Harry’s bed being empty only to turn around and crash with his wet naked torso.

“Oh god!” she’s quick to jump back, mimicking his steps in the opposite direction. Cheeks tainted a deep red the same as his. She only gets a quick glance of his body that assures her he is in fact nude, before covering her eyes from the view of Harry with just a loosely tightened towel around his most important parts. “Sorry! Sorry, oh god!”

Y/N was frozen in her spot and so was Harry. He stuttered and scrambled his way around his room to get dressed, holding y/n by her shoulders to move her out of the way of his drawers, as she did her best to keep her eyes away from the image of harry’s tatted nakedness.

When it was clear to look, Harry let her know with a lump in his throat from how awkward the whole interaction was, and y/n made sure to peek through the cracks in her fingers to test the waters, spotting Harry fully clothed, she sighed and proceeded to apologise some more. “I’m s-sorry, I… I should have knocked, I just, god” “I-it’s ok. Uh, yeah…” his fingers came up to fidget his glasses around and scratch at the back of his neck in embarrassment. He tried to focus on the fact that the situation was uncomfortable, and not think of how in his dreams a situation like that would have a very different outcome.

Dropping his notebook on his desk, y/n told him all she remembered of his class, the notes she’d taken were messy but Harry was surprised and touched that she’d tried her best at copying his note-taking style. She had done it with pencil – so in case she made any mistakes, Harry could arrange them later on – and the scribbles on the edges had multiple arrows pointed to different notes and asterisks. He chuckled at the small ‘sorry!’ she had written at the end of the notes, probably when the class had ended. “Thank you, y/n, really.” “No problem, It’s so messy, but hopefully you can understand” she smiled at him, sitting herself at the edge of his bed. “It’s great, it really is. Yeh didn’t have to” he says with his dimples showing and cheeks blushing, sitting down next to her. “Which reminds me…” he says reaching back and pulling out a notebook that seems to be filled front to back “Right ‘ere… ’S my Chem 101 notebook. Figured it’d help yeh a bit t’have it” he hands her the book that is in perfect condition considering it’s been a year and a half since he last touched it or the book has seen the light. “Oh my! Thank you!” y/n’s smile is big and making Harry’s heart do a lot more flips than he thought was humanly possible or healthy.

Y/N couldn’t help but stare at his bruises, happy he seemed to be much more awake and no longer in as much pain, but still sour that he’d even had to go through it in the first place. Harry notices how she grows silent and places his hand on her shoulder trying to comfort her. “Hey, stop… I’m okay” “I feel so bad…” “Don’t… You’ve done nothing wrong and you’ve nothing t’worry about” he says giving her a comforting smile trying to cheer her up, but he’s immediately caught of guard by the shine in her eyes that looks like tears. Y/N surprises him by wrapping her arms around him, causing them to lay down on his mattress in a cuddle. Harry’s heart is beating rapidly, his palms sweaty, and his eyes open wide in shock as y/n lets out soft sighs and sobs on his chest. He rubs loving circles on her back, confused as to why this is making her so upset. “Hey…” he whispers in her ear, pulling her close to his frame “Don’t cry. ’S okay” “I’m so sorry Harry.” “Y/n, it’s not your fault, please…” he stresses, but she shakes her head and looks up at him through tears, placing a hand on his cheek. Her eyes are glossy and her sad expression makes Harry’s heart ache for her, he wants her to smile, always, no matter how taken aback he is when she says her next words. “It is, Harry. It is my fault…”

Thanks for reading! I’m working on part three so that it can be posted in a few days, a week tops. FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED PLEASE!!! I want to know what you think of this and why you think y/n swears it’s her fault? hmmm. Part three will be the last one of this little Marcel story but there are more Marcel ideas in my drafts and I’d love to write more about this specific Marcel if you’d like me to :)

Smooches Iv. XO.

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