#where like until you form a real connection with your soulmate

[nicromancytarot]

WILL YOU DATE YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings.

PICK A PILE CHANNELING

I asked my spirit guides if you would ever stumble across the opportunity of dating your celebrity crush, pick a pile to find out what they had to say!!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

Pile 4 ———> Pile 5 ———> Pile 6

Pile 7 ———> Pile 8 ———> Pile 9

DISCLAIMER: This is purely for fun and entertainment, this is based on where you are now in your life, as free will can affect your path. This is not to fuel anyone’s parasocial behaviour.

PILE 1

3 of swords, 6 of cups, 4 of wands, judgement, 6 of pentacles, the magician

Yes!

I do see this being a possibility of an opportunity which will come up for you. With the 3 of swords I see this celebrity coming into your life more prominently after a heartbreak, something I believe will be you having experienced. The 6 of cups gives me the thought that your celebrity crush will be the person to help build you back up again, and help you become the person you were before. The 4 of wands is marriage dude, you guys have a high possibility of not only dating, but also marrying your desired celebrity.

Your relationship seems to be one that you have prayed or manifested for, the universe listened to you. Honestly you might have tried to manifest someone with the characteristics, and appearance of your celebrity crush, but the universe was just kind of like “fuck it, let’s just give them the real deal.”

PILE 2

The knight of wands reversed, page of pentacles, queen of cups, queen of wands, ace of pentacles, 7 of swords

Yes!

I see this being something you will have the opportunity to experience. With the knight of wands reversed, I would say in order to be with your celebrity crush, you would have to release an ex of yours, it’s as if you have a choice to either try something new, or stick with the old.

This ex of yours may have caused you a lot of drama and trouble in the past, your celebrity crush is the opposite, with the page of pentacles, and the queen of cups, I can see that they offer you stability in all forms, unlike the ex of yours.

I do see that this relationship won’t be all you would expect it to be, not in a bad way, but your celebrity doesn’t seem as though they are their real self when they are posing for cameras or talking to their fans, it’s nothing bad, they are just a lot different than what you expected.

However, I do think this will be a long term relationship, and you will feel very comfortable with them, as they shall with you.

PILE 3

The lovers reversed, the knight of pentacles in reversed, 6 of swords, ace of pentacles, the king of wands, the wheel of fortune

No.

I unfortunately do not see this as something you will have the opportunity of experiencing, I see there will already be someone in your life by the time you even could possibly have the opportunity, I’m feeling a lot of young Pedro Pescal fans here. This other person in your love life is being described as your person, your soulmate, your future spouse. You will not want this celebrity by the time you have this person.

With the knight of pentacles in reverse, and the 6 of swords, I do not think you have the patience to wait until you are old enough to be with this person, and therefore your path will be diverted to meet your own person.

PILE 4

7 of wands, the high priestess, the page of wands, 6 of wands, death, the star

Yes!

I do see this being an opportunity that you will have the privilege of experiencing. With the seven of wands, I do feel as though you will have to work to get it however, same goes with the high priestess, you may even manifest this person, intentionally or unintentionally.

With the death and the star, I do see that you will be mentally transformed into a different person when in this relationship, your celebrity may be older or more mature than you, they will help you be more wise like them lmao.

PILE 5

The chariot, the page of wands, the ace of wands, the star, the knight of pentacles, the queen of cups

No.

I do not see you having the opportunity of experiencing dating your celebrity crush. With the chariot and page of wands, I honestly think you’ll be too busy doing other things by the time that your able to meet this person. With the page of wands, it’s like you’re creating something else, building a relationship, perhaps career by this point. The ace of wands shows me a quick moving on, so honestly you may even be over this celebrity in a few months-years.

The star, again with self improvement, this person really won’t be that important in your life soon. They could get cancelled or something, turn out to be a bad person, and therefore dating them won’t really align with your beliefs.

PILE 6

10 pentacles, 9 wands, 5 swords reversed, 5 wands, the world, the knight of cups

Yes!

I do see the ability of you receiving the opportunity to date your celebrity crush. With the 10 of pentacles, I can see you honestly might meet this person, feeling a sense of excitement, but not much expectation, perhaps they will ask for your number, or they will initiate more of a conversation with you. You’ll go home to you family and friends, telling them about this crazy experience.

I see they will be quick to contact you again, with the 9 of wands, and the 5 of swords reversed, I can tell that they might be wanting to let you know how serious they are about pursuing you, which is why they contact you so quickly.

With the knight of cups, they will most likely be the one to actually ask you to be in a relationship with them, they will be the one to initiate the commitment, showing you once again how serious they are to make this a long term thing. With the world I notice that this relationship, and the attention alone from your celebrity crush, will be making you have a lot more self love, and it will help you if you have suffered from self doubt and self hatred in the past.

PILE 7

Death reversed, the queen of cups reversed, 8 of swords, the sun, the ace of cups, the wheel of fortune

No.

I unfortunately don’t see you having the opportunity to be in a relationship with your celebrity crush. With death in reverse, along with the queen of cups also in reverse, it seems that you may still be a fan of this person by the time you perhaps meet them, or are old enough to date them. Being a fan of this person at that time would not offer you any stability in your relationship, and the power dynamic would be very evident.

The 8 of swords is showing me that this relationship would make either of you feel very isolated, almost like they have to be careful around you since you’re a fan, or you put them on a pedestal since they’re your idol.

The sun, the ace of cups, and the wheel of fortune are telling me that you will achieve everything you desire, other than dating this person of course. I see that this person can totally help you mentally in the way that you approach relationships, they may even offer you advice, or tips, in a non parasocial way, as I do not believe you will ever know this person on a personal level.

PILE 8

9 of pentacles, 2 of wands reversed, 6 of cups, the queen of wands, 7 of swords, the knight of pentacles

Yes!

I do see this being an opportunity for you to be able to experience. With the 9 of pentacles, it definitely seems like a very flourishing relationship, one filled with a lot of happiness, and abundance in all forms.

I do unfortunately with the 2 of wands in reverse believe that this may be a short lived relationship, it will certainly feel worth it’s time, and such an incredible thing for both parties to have experienced, however I do not think it will last long.

With the 6 of cups in contrast with the 7 of swords, I do think this will be a connection which will help you see your own worth, deal with past trauma and betrayal, perhaps even teaching both you want in relationships. It will be one of those things that you always look back on and think about with a smile, however I don’t imagine it will last forever.

PILE 9

Strength, the tower, the queen of swords, the hierophant, 4 of cups, the chariot

Yes!

I do see you facing this possibility in the future. This is an odd pile, an interesting one, but certainly something different. I think you will be working within the same space as this person by the time you meet, or you will know people who work with them, creating some mutual friend group.

I think with the strength card, and the tower, you will honestly be trying to act normal around this person, trying your hardest not to make it clear that you used to be a fan of them, or even that you are currently still a fan of them.

I notice that they may pick up on your nervous energy, they seem like a picky person with the 4 of cups, so they may like that you’re not paying much mind to them, they’re very used to people jumping all over them, so your celebrity certainly respects your distance from them, although they feel like that creates a challenge for them to conquer.

This will be very unexpected for you, you may even think you’re dreaming when it happens, however I see this being a long-lived connection, one of many abundances and dreams to be fulfilled.

I’m also picking up that they may think it’s comical that you were such a big fan of them, but they really, really like it.

[dragon-kazansky]

Dragon's Lair

Spirit of the sea

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

Captain Hands

Izzy is captain of The Revenge. You're his first mate. Your intention is to take down the man that tried to take away your Izzy. In the meantime, you get up to all kinds of shenanigans along the way.

Symphony of dreams

You are his lover. When Morpheus was captured, you fell into the deep sleep. He has no idea until he returns to his realm where Lucienne tells him what happened. Unable to help you until he gets his tools back, he is more determined than ever to get his full power back.

Veil of the dreamless

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

When the raven calls

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

Heart of the Dreaming

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

The song in our hearts

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

Bridgerton shade of blue

Season One - Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

Bridgerton shade of blue

Season Two - The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

Heart of Ketterdam

In the heart of Ketterdam, a group of troublemakers and thieves prepare take on a big job for a lot of kruge. However, they're not the only one's who caught wind of the big payout. Kaz doesn't like being beaten. Looks like he'll have to go for the alternative. If you can't beat them, join them.

To be determined!

Head in the clouds

The past was supposed to stay in the past, but with Goose and Maverick getting into Top Gun, it would seem that it’s repeating itself. No matter what you do, you can never escape Tom Kazansky. 

[kaihuntrr]

A bunch of Scott designs I did for warmups <3 using my personal head canons for each one! Explanations for their looks and ‘names’ down below!

Life Series: Scott!

I love all of them so much,, I wanted to keep their outfits and general vibes simple, they’re all pretty but also some practicality in their wardrobes as they are in some type of survival game ehe.

3rd Life: Poppy

Self explanatory name, this version of Scott is the sweetest and the most disconnected from the survival games. He only wanted to live with his husband in their little paradise in forms of flower valleys and endless wheat fields, completely isolated from the war. His outfit is of a gardener, overalls and a sunhat with his and Jimmy’s favorite flower; poppies. He grew out his hair and ties it, not wanting it to be in the way of his work. He is overly protective of his husband, wanting to keep him safe and away from danger for as much as he possibly can. A widow’s rage is something else.

I imagine 3rd Life designs to be more humanoid, so Scott here is an elf! This soul of his moved on to Empires, where he spends the rest of his days with his husband in sweet bliss.

Last Life: Star

Earned the name after being victorious in the game of betrayal. A guiding star to others, he keeps the titular mark on his forehead for the remainder of his time in the Life Series due to being a winner, a reminder of him losing his final life to a lightning bolt. He is the most cunning, using his wits and trust to be a strong ally. He lived in the center of all the chaos with his partner, his best friend Pearl, using little moths to communicate to each other. With sheltered forests and a cottage as their ‘home’, he has deer-like features and antlers to boot. Perhaps this was an attempt to recreate a copy of Poppy, as he has some memories of ‘his’ previous life. He dresses in a neat dress shirt and vest, matching with his best friend and fitting the aesthetic of their pretty house in the woods. Just don’t touch the wall, please.

I wanted to use yellows for this design, as he starts off with two lives! Plus, the contrast looks so good <3 this soul is the host of future life seasons, having full clarity of this life when he goes into future events. Once a series is over, all precious memories will wash over him and the star will hover over his head. This is his ‘real’ form, his ‘winning’ soul.

Double Life: Venus

Named after the brightest ‘star’ next to the moon, he feels isolated. He felt something familiar as he was brought into this life, but he never expected to be connected to Pearl. He shouldn’t blame her, but he doesn’t deal well with being alone. Somehow, he still has a brief memory of Poppy’s as he feels.. something when Jimmy’s soulbound isn’t with him. He loves being with Cleo, his chosen soulmate, and being Pearl’s soulbound meant he could feel her frustration and loneliness. Should he have been there for her? Likely. He couldn’t bare seeing her face again. He couldn’t bare losing her again. Not again. Maybe it was better this way, they’re both hurting. He hopes this is better.

I used green as he was green in his iconic and heartbreaking moment of splitting off with Pearl and Martyn to join up with Cleo, and also I can remember him being mostly green until Pearl ups and ruins that- he’s a ram, his horns shifting to ram horns to solidify his stubborn nature to reconnect, and a general ranch aesthetic given he and Cleo made a whole soulmate ranch thing. The hair over his eyes are to hide his teary eyes, still missing and hurting over his soulmate.

Limited Life: Coral

A fitting name for the person who established the Coral Isles. The cottage was in the middle of it all, so he wanted his life to be away from all the drama, just by the side of the map near the ocean to relax. Unfortunately, things just won’t stop coming for him. Be it being the boogeyman first, allying with someone who you swore was supposed to kill you, and more memories of your past life you don’t understand coming back to haunt you, it’s a little too much. He can’t help but be flirty with Martyn though, the man definitely bites back. He finds his partner’s overprotective-ness rather adorable, and he’d do anything for him back, even give him time.

Fish!! Drastically different than my AU design, which is good- used his red skin as he did wonderfully as a red name and whenever I think of Limited Life I’d always think of Red Scott, which I adore <3 he does have long hair, can’t not have his long hair for him!

Until series five comes out, these are my thoughts and ideas for Life Series Scott! I’d love to write out possible interaction ideas but I’m afraid this post might be too long LMAO- a good break from Sea Prince content, but I absolutely adore the life series and the pseudo-story I have for this guy in particular. Who knows, you might see fullbodies of them in the future? :D no promises!

[overtaken-stream]

This whole part is just King going, "My favorite color is dark, like my soul." also, this gif is so hot omfg I can't with him, I have a smut idea for him, and if I do, somehow wrap my head around it, I'll post it here and on ao3.

Yandere!King The Wildfire x reader Pt2.

It was a hasty decision, done in reaction he is unsure what to call, hardy he could handle himself when in your vicinity, it was a feeling of something intruding someplace it had no business being.

Similar to you in this situation.

His room was devoid of human touch, obviously because he barely used it, postponing his sleep until the flames on his back would collapse in on themselves, and he felt the consequences every time. It complemented his suit and the general aura he tries to surround himself with when dealing with Kaidou's henchmen, dark and containing no distractions. One specially made bed with dark covers, straightened against the wooden walls, on the other side was a wardrobe that seemed giant to a normal-sized human; unlike others, it was decorated and carefully carved, leaves, waves, ships, eyes, and unseen mysterious symbols were embedded into the burnt wood.

``It's an interesting texture.`` He remembers thinking, though he can no longer put his finger on how he got it in the first place.

And yet, in the grim surroundings, there was a light his flames could never compare to; warmth, no matter how hard he tries, will never radiate from him. It was similar to that dark house where he first laid his eyes upon you. You who have not changed nor moved on from that moment, you who trembles and shakes, cry and call out for help, insult him, and corner yourself in a place where you feel defended.

He has been in your shoes before, a long time ago, he can't be sure.

Perhaps the understanding is the cause of his heavy heart, taken away from home in such a way... He can feel his throat close up as your hunched figure shines in his view. Grime stuck itself onto your limbs, knees, and hands decorated with splinters of all sizes, hair matted and filthy from ash and smoke, and its smell follows him in his showers as he allows himself to let free of his suit. It's so recognizable.

And if his heart clenched everytime he saw you in this horrible position, nobody had to know. Not even him, it was a can of worms King won't dare to touch.

He remembers bits of information about his race, long lost to time and humanity, the whispers that came in the form of dreams speckled across his mind and reflections; the delusions and validity are mixed within his remembrances, the real and fake are smelting into and out of each other, his past is forgotten even by him, the lineage of mighty warriors feared by all is smeared across the walls with mud and blood mixed with heartfelt feelings.

In a memory long before the laboratory, his tiny ears picked up information, a word that defines and tames a feeling of awe he is experiencing—a SoulMate.

Lost words from his Ma that he was too young to understand finally make sense, a connection of minds, unconditional love, and a total understanding of each other. It's about being oneself and knowing others, a SoulMate is following and understanding One's thoughts, but They're right there with the One, side by side. Completing the soul and tying the Lunarian instincts of animals into a pretty bowtie. A Soul and a Mate.

Love at first sight doesn't exist because even if King has not experienced it before, he is not fooled by others' thinking, Love dependent on sight is lust.

But he didn't see you first, did he? He felt you.

Kaidou is not obligated to put up with a civilian within his chambers, under his roof, where the empire buzzes with insignificant life, but it has been hours after they departed from your home island, now a kingdom of ash and debris, a few hours he has spent watching you with motionless crimson eyes.

The monster gets up from the throne, the squicking of leather alerting you of his movement, forcing you to turn towards him; the last time he made any move was when he sat down on the chair you can't quite make out in the dim moonlighting, your quivers, and sniffles fade out as he gets further away from you, his broad back is turned.

It's time he explained himself.

The cold yet quiet air is disturbed when he lights up the flames on his back, coloring this room in warm shades.

Your swollen eyes and snot-filled nose could only gasp for air as he slowly turned his face back to you.

``I'll come back.`` he slams the heavy door shut.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, the disgusting dirt of your suffering sticks onto your skin, seeps through the crack, and marks the invisible scars into your psyche.

You wished, for the first time, that a promise would be broken.

``tsk...`` the angry and tear-stained eyes turn away from the door.

Left unchecked, fear turns into irritation, irritation into anger.

Balled fists shake, out of fear, out of anger.

[thlayli-ra]

The Chain

Characters - Drew McIntyre, CM Punk, AJ Lee (mentioned)

Pairing - Drew McIntyre/CM Punk, CM Punk/AJ Lee

AU - Soulmates AU

Rating - Mature, 18+ only

Warnings - Physical assault, blood and gore, wound-fucking (mentioned), this is NOT a love story!

Words - ~ 2000 words

Summary - After viciously attacking Punk at Smackdown, Drew steals something very personal. (Written from Drew's POV.)

I'm just a girl. Looking at a boy. Stealing a bracelet from another boy and wondering... how can I make this so much worse?

I never understand when people talk about these little red strings of fate. Where I'm from, we are connected by chains. Linked to our bodies by a sharp hook embedded in our chest, directly into our hearts. Does it hurt? Oh aye, it hurts. But doesn't it always hurt? Love, I mean? Maybe we're just raised to believe that...

The hook appears first. You don't even need to actually be with the person in question, but as soon as a soulmate connection is made, the hook starts to form. And the pain begins. It's the worst part of the whole process.

But then, the chain starts fading into existence, softly as first, like a haar, getting clearer and heavier until - if you're lucky enough to find the perfect partner - it snaps into being. Then you're hit with this... I don't know how to describe it... this shockwave of euphoria. And it's all worth it. The pain, the hurt. You don't even notice it anymore once your chain has formed.

One soulmate? Are ye daft? No, you don't just get one soulmate per person. This is the real world ye numpty! I've had two chains in my life. Some chains form then fade again, others start off faint and snaps once they've worked at their relationship. For some folk, no chain forms at all - other's don't even get the hook! - then you know you're completely wrong for each other. But then... I've seen couples who were full-on toxic and they've got a perfectly formed chain between them so who am I to judge?

And as I'm standing here, the echo of a steel door colliding with a man's face reverberating around my skull, I'm reminded of the very few who snap right from the very beginning. Punk's was like that. I can see it now, his chain snaking around my feet as he lies there, coughing up his own blood.

I've known Punk a long time so I can still remember it happening. When him and AJ began making out sloppy style in front of the cameras and the two of them parted with a wince to find the hooks digging their way into their hearts. The chain was already manifesting then too.

Must have spooked them because their instant reaction was to run in the opposite direction, straight into another's arms. But it's always the same with these things; once you've seen that chain, you start to wonder. From what I heard, the very instant they decided to give it a go between them, the chain snapped with a blinding light. It's been the same ever since, even through some very trying times for them both.

I hate that fucking chain. Just another reminder of something he doesn't deserve. Isn't it enough that's he's held all the gold, all the prestige, all the accolades and respect and devotion of his mindless fans when he's nothing but a cancer in every locker-room he's ever been in. How could he possibly deserve the girl too? And the dog?

And the chain?

He doesn't!

If I could, I would smash that chain to pieces but I can't. It's sitting right there by my toe at this very moment, but if I move my boot, it just ghosts through it like an illusion. I can grab my own chain, but nobody else's.

The hook, however...

The doors begin to open and I'm reminded of why I came. Grabbing Punk, I haul him over my shoulders and march my way into the bowels of the arena, heading straight for gorilla.

This is Chicago. Punk's home crowd. They love him here, always have and always will. No matter how much of a prick he is or how many sins he commits against others.

Like me!

Less than a week ago, I was in front of my home crowd. Unlike Punk, I had to fight to get a PLE in my home, to bring the WWE to Scotland. It took years but I finally got through to the higher-ups and convinced them that my bonnie wee country was ripe for a major event and that the crowd would raise the roof. I was proven right! They welcomed us with open arms and brought the energy, flooding the OVO Hydro with ear-splitting noise.

Was there any doubt? After all - no Scotland, no party!

But for me personally, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. After all those years of being snubbed, of being overlooked, called a Chosen One by the boss then getting fired and dumped on my arse like yesterday's rubbish, I was finally going to get my time in the spotlight. I was the main-event, competing for the World Heavyweight Title and I was going to win it. How could I not with my people cheering me on, their support the wind in my sails, spurring me to greatness.

But Punk stole that all away from me! Why? How was it fair? I could have gone down in history, inspired a whole new generation of Scottish wrestlers! We're only a country of around five million - Chicago itself has half of that alone! Didn't we deserve our share of the glory? Weren't we allowed to believe for a single bloody night that we could be more?

But no! He left me lying on my back in my home town, clutching my bawsack where his stupid over-priced trainer had struck me. A cheap shot, like the cheap-arse bastard he is!

I'm here to repay the favour. Finally punching my way through the curtain, I stand at the top of the ramp, the jeers ringing out all around me, feeding me. I let them get a good eyeful of their so-called 'hero' slung across my shoulder like a stag I shot in the woods. Then I throw him to the ground. He lands with a satisfying crunch, a tangle of noodle limbs and blood splatters.

The noise increases. I lap it all up like a sponge. Punk's been lucky enough to triumph in front of these people. The roar they made when he faced Cena at Money in the Bank was deafening, became something of legend in its own right. He won it for them, then tore off through the crowd with his stolen prize and they loved him for it. Guy isn't even from Chicago! He's from fucking Lockport!

(But then, I guess the same could be said for me and Glasgow. I'm from Ayr, thirty odd miles away but I started out there, lived there, worked there, made my reputation there and rebuilt it there when everything seemed lost. My heart belongs to Glasgow. Guess Punk feels the same about Chicago.)

But it's not the only thing his heart belongs to, is it?

I crouch down. Punk is still reeling from the head blows and barely registers me looming in so close. I can hear his raspy breaths, see his chest quivering up and down. I then spy his hook half-embedded, off-centre to the left.

It's considered the height of moral corruption to touch another person's hook. Degenerate, perverted, an abomination. Like cooking a meal for a guest with your own shit. Yet, as my hand draws near to it, my fingers trembling, I feel a spark of electricity dancing through my nervous system. A frenzied anticipation that I can't quash. It screams through my veins as my fist wraps around the hook, feeling the weighty bulk of it on my palm.

Then I yank on it.

Punk's whole body jerks and his eyes leap open but it's too late. There's nothing he can do as I pull on his hook like King Arthur with his sword trapped in stone. It's stuck deep! I am no weakling by any stretch of the imagination but it still takes me all of my strength over several attempts to finally wrench it free.

It slurps loose with a wet squelch. Punk tries to scream but his voice is trapped in his throat beneath a fresh pouring of blood. His blood smears my hands too, falling freely from the grisly hook as I stand again, taking it with me. I admire it. It's not large, slightly bigger than my palm, and is marred with wear and tear, much like its owner.

However, up close, it shines. I had never noticed it before. How, when the light hits, it glints a golden hue that sparkles. It's dazzling. I suddenly feel the burden of having something I shouldn't in my possession, like a British archeologist taking an Ancient Egyptian mummy from its tomb. I'm every bit as fascinated by it too, stroking my hand over it, dirtying my fingers even more with Punk's blood.

'No...' Punk feebly whines. The lady doth protest, it seems.

The outcry from the mob is thunderous but I'm already tuning it out. All I care about is the golden sickle in my hand and the chain that dangles from it, so flawless and beautiful and-

I hitch a breath! The chain! I can... feel it! Solid in my hand, like magic. I'm too shocked to wonder why but every instinct in me is shrieking to test the limits of my newfound power. I grab the chain in both of my large hands. There's a rhythmic sensation like a pulse running through it, and it's so warm. Like something small and fragile and living. A captured rabbit, trembling in my grasp before I twist its neck.

I yank hard and the chain cleaves straight in two. I hear a horror-filled cry. It was Punk! Ohh, he felt that! I enjoyed that sound! Gathering up the tattered remains of his chain, I consider breaking another piece to hear that delicious squeal again when I'm distracted by the gaping hollow in his chest. A gruesome wound, wide like an open mouth. I'm actually shocked to feel a burning desire between my legs, thoughts of sticking my dick in there and fucking that cavity raw like a pussy. Shoving my hand in to hold his heart in my palm, feel it pound with terror as I squeeze it tighter. Could even just lower my breeks and piss right in there, why not? Wee shite deserves it!

But before I can do anything, I hear an angry shout and there is Nick Aldis himself. Fucking cock-blocker that he is! I'm raging at the interruption and shove him back but he's swarmed by his lackeys and I'm forced to retreat for now.

I take one last look at Punk's mangled body. What was it you said Punk? That you would "break my heart"? Did that make you feel like a big man, eh? Some kind of Johnny Big Baws? Well once again, you proved how empty your promises are and showed everybody that your sweet sentiments are hollow.

Now you have a chest cavity to match!

I pocket my prize, the blood tainting the lining of my jeans. I tap it lovingly, enjoying the solid mass of hook and broken chain through the denim.

I'll hold onto it for now Punky. For safe-keeping. Maybe, just maybe, if I feel like it, I might try it on for size. See how it is to have a little piece of you inside of me.

For a fleeting moment, I think my own chain flickers, but I'm sure it's just a trick of the light. Hope Kaitlyn didn't notice.

They're loading Punk into a stretcher now. Strapping his stupid, bloodied face into a neck brace. He looks so small and pathetic without his chain, but that's what I want!

A boat without its anchor.

Cast adrift.

Waiting helplessly for the monster from the deep to wrap its tentacles around and swallow it whole.

[doodle-pops]

Hi Mina!

I'm so happy reactions are open :)

May I please request how the Feanorians would react to finding their soulmate in a soulmate AU?

Thank you!

a/n: Honestly, I was surprised that I remembered half of these different forms of meetings, especially after my hiatus without reading a Wattpad story on these. I do love these a lot so I showed special love :)

Feanorians Meeting Their Soulmate

Soulmate AU

MATCHING TATTOO/MARKINGS — Having soulmates through the form of matching tattoos was the most chaotic event of their life. Despite the marking being located in an easy to access and view area on their skin, they still managed to be sceptical about revealing it to anyone. For years they've prayed on their marking in hopes that you would be nearby and not far. When they stumbled upon you one day, they could feel the slight thinking sensation in their body where the mark was located. Through a quick rustle and hasty movements, they would see your marking and shout it out at you. “Wait! What's that? Is that your... You bear the same marking as I do...look! I found you!” Finding you was the best day of their lives.

Maedhros, MAGLOR, AMROD

COLOURBLIND/SEEING COLOURS — All their life, they saw black and white while everyone else around them saw the world of colours. It was a constant mockery to them whenever they needed to identify different colours of items and they couldn't. The sympathetic look on the faces of everyone around them while they fumbled to guess the shades. The constant dependent behaviour, requiring another to assist them with picking out colours was a parody. They would meet you through a small breakdown, crying in the streets and eating themselves up at the lack of a soulmate. Seeing you stumble across them, greeting them a 'goodnight' and continuing, colours flashed before their eyes and they knew. You couldn't leave them so soon. “I know you see the world in black and white, but you can't tell me you're still colourblind after meeting me?”

FEANOR, CARANTHIR

DRAWING/INJURIES ON EACH OTHER'S SKIN — Being late bloomers when it came to discovering how they met their soul mate, they wouldn't realise it until pain struck them in areas they'd never injured before. Every time they attempt to be careful, the next morning they woke up, they were covered in little bruises and scribblings. Realising that this was how they would meet their soulmate, the first thing they could mention was 'Invest in protective gear clumsy'. That's how you both would interact from then on, planning when and how you'd meet and even helping the other to cheat during exams. Your meet and greet would be casual and nerve-racking because you had never seen them before, but you did, it was worth the wait. “I'm terribly sorry for my fights with my brothers. I nearly damaged a beauty like yourself, my soulmate.”

CELEGORM, Curufin

RED STRING — For all their life, they've followed that little red string tied around their pinkie, hoping that when they rounded the corner, you would be there. They've spent years chasing blank trails never finding you and finally deciding to give up. You were somewhere else in the world where they'd never find you. Soon, falling back into routine and carrying on with their life, you would enter, but they were so distant from reality to recognise you. You were within their presence, tugging on their string and their attention was elsewhere. It took your assertiveness to introduce yourself, holding up your hand and pointing to theirs before the puzzle was connected. “...You're real? You're not some ghost or made-up? I searched all my life for you and now you're here!”

AMRAS, Celebrimbor

[the-moon-in-the-gutter]

Part-Time Soulmate, Full-Time Problem

TW: alcohol consumption, accidental injuries, blood, scars. Nothing described in full or egregious detail

A/N: title from Hold Me Like A Grudge by Fall Out Boy. And yes, I accidentally posted a draft of this earlier today lmao. Thank you to @sovaghoul for the nickname for Alpha and to @spillways-of-your-soul for listening to me prattle on about this for ages.

At least once a week, Mist and Alpha will cook dinner for their pack together. To jazz up the task, they had begun flipping a coin to see how they would cook. This week in particular it was Mist's week to flip a coin, fishing her lucky coin from her pocket before calling out "Heads drunk, tails sober" to her counterpart. The coin was caught, landing on heads and Alpha turned towards the refrigerator to bring out a bottle of homemade wine while Mist went to the cabinet for their glasses. This was their therapy for the week, to be able to cut loose without restrictions and enjoy the company of their oldest friend. the one who understood the other best. The one who brought them out of their shell, as Mist is still the only ghoul capable of bringing forth words from Alpha, even after all this time.

As they begin cooking, the wine starts flowing. The pair of ghouls laughing raucously over a joke one had told while they worked, holding a close eye on the stove. They're master cooks separately, but have absolutely mangled meals before as a pair. All was going well with the preparations, drunken voices singing along to the song flowing from the radio in the kitchen. That was until Mist turned with her glass, intending to place it on the counter. Instead, the wine glass had missed, falling and shattering on the floor.

"Son of a bitch" Mist hissed, kneeling down to begin cleaning up the glass before gasping as a shard sliced her palm.

Alpha was quick to rush to her side, the buzz of the alcohol fading away as he turned to help his partner in crime. "Here, let me get the glass don't worry with it" he said, trying to gather the larger pieces in his palm to take to the trash. In the haze of the moment, he had not noticed his palm too was cut.

The fire ghoul, having dumped the larger pieces of glass in the trash, turned to help Mist from her position on the floor. As she took his hand, the realization struck them both. The blood on their palms mixing, finding a home in the other's wound.

"Elf, you're bleeding" Mist said, turning his palm up and reaching for a paper towel to stem the flow.

Alpha looked down, both of their palms stained with blood. Yours and mine. The gravity finally settled in between the two ghouls, sobered by the events. They had formed a blood pact, as all the wine produced on the Ministry grounds was sacred. Even if it was made in the shed from blackberries that grew wild on the outskirts of the property.

"Do we tell anyone about this?" Alpha was the first to speak, clutching a paper towel in his palm as the turns toward the stove, turning down one of the burners.

Mist was stood at the sink, running cool water over her palm to stem the flow. "I say no, because how do you say it? 'Oopsie we formed a blood pact by accident'" she laughed, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Alpha shrugged, turning back to face his best friend turned bonded pair. "I mean there's no real way to say it, I'm sure they'll catch on eventually though."

_________

And catch on they did, as the newly strengthened bond between the ghouls became more apparent. There wasn't a place one could go without the other showing up without a moment's notice. Instances of saving the other from danger, as Alpha had to break up an altercation between a group of Siblings that had continued in the infirmary. Mist appeared by his side, aiding the fire ghoul in separating the foolish humans.

The strength of their bond had only increased the mental connection between the ghouls. One winter afternoon after a particularly difficult sermon in the chapel, Mist was no where to be found. The ghouls filed out of the pews one by one, walking quietly and politely before congregating outside of the doors of the chapel to talk with Siblings and each other. Terzo's ghouls had all been unsettled by the talk given by a guest speaker during mass, but it seemed to strike Mist worse than the others.

"Where's Mist? I could've sworn she was right behind me. Damn near tripped me trying to get out of here" Pebble said, looking around for the water ghoulette. Emotions were high amongst the ghouls that no one had noticed that Alpha slipping away from the group.

The fire ghoul moved quickly through the snow fall on the ground, searching for signs of the ghoulettes tracks as he made his way towards Primo's rose garden. His feet knew which way to go, while the others had possibly panicked and began searching all the wrong places for the pair. As Alpha entered the clearing his eyes fell to Mist, sat on the steps of Terzo's mausoleum.

The smell of dragon's blood incense hung heavy in the air amongst the smell of fresh snow and the freezing blooms of heliotrope left by Omega. Alpha settled next to Mist wordlessly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to bring her close to him.

The silence hung heavy in the air, only to be broken my Mist's shaky voice as she leaned further into Alpha's warmth. "I cannot believe the clergy allowed Cardinal Tennyson to speak like that" her voice broke, tears had begun stream down her cheeks in an unstoppable tide.

"I don't think they were let onto all that he was going to say, based on the looks on their faces when he had switched up to speaking of Terzo and us.." Alpha offered as a consolation, knowing that his words were not enough to smooth over the emotions swirling inside the ghoulette. Especially when he didn't fully believe them himself, anger still finding a home in his chest at the words said.

Mist shook her head, "That's not the point and you know it Alpha. No guest should speak ill of a past antipope, nor his ghouls. We shouldn't be demeaned and mistreated for what was stripped away from us. Imagine what we could have been, what we could have accomplished." The words fell from her mouth in a torrent, much akin to waves crashing ashore in a thunderstorm.

With that, the wind was stolen from Alpha's sails. It was true what she said, Terzo's ghouls were very commonly looked down upon both within the walls of the Minsitry and by outsiders. While some may blame it on scandal and proclivity, many were hateful because they found the ghouls to be less approachable. They were too different from those summoned by Copia, but too similar to those summoned by Primo and Secondo. New Siblings would spend months going out of their way to avoid the ghouls, especially Mist and Alpha. He knew of how many of the Sisters of Sin spoke of Mist, degrading her position within the church. He was viewed as a hot head, too quick to anger, one to stay away from because "what if he's unstable?"

The pair had held their weight in shame, spending their free time away from the prying eyes of Siblings. Two ghouls who were in a unique position. A unique partnership with no romantic undertones. A place in which they can find comfort, respect, and equality.

"Come on, let's get back to the abbey before you freeze to death" Alpha joked lightheartedly, dragging the ghoulette to her feet.

Mist relented, walking back hand in hand with Alpha. Scarred palm against scarred palm, as they discussed the details of their evening plans. It would be the same as it has been for years now, Alpha mending holes in the other ghouls clothing while Mist sat on the opposite end of the couch from him, her latest knitting project in her lap.

[theratboyking]

Softly Into The Night

Chapter Five: The Neon God They Made

Pairing: Cardinal Copia/Reader/Papa Emeritus iii (this will also have eventual Copia/Terzo but that won't be for a while)(This is also a slow burn so it's gonna be a while until we even get here)

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Demons are real, angels exist, and my father is the Prince of Darkness. A dream I can’t seem to wake up from. And two mysterious strangers that seem to have a connection to me. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Summary: “Fine, you chose the hard way.” He clears his throat. Snapping his fingers, the book I had been holding springs to life. The pages fly open as he brings his staff to the grown. His white eye starts to glow. “Now, you will fight me like your life depends on it. I am your enemy in these moments, and I will not stop until you cannot fight anymore.”

Warnings: 18+ (this is going to get be a wild ride folks,) Slow burn, Idiots in love, kinda soulmates? poorly translated Italian (I am sorry to all the Italians out there) fluff, angst, this is a ghost fic so you know religious trauma, some chapters will like get kinda deep in the religious philosophy but maybe not depending on the direction this goes, eventual smut (Chapter will be labeled)

AO3 Link Masterlist

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“We’re going to try something different today.”  Secondo’s voice echoed around the halls. He wasn’t wearing his usual robes. Instead, he was dressed in a white button-up shirt and black slacks. He had his sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his arms. He was carrying his staff in one arm. He was moving with little urgency, but I was a nervous wreck.

This morning started with me receiving a rather large book shoved into my arms by a waiting Secondo and very little explanation of where we were going. In fact, this was the first thing he had said to me since I made it to his office door this morning. I started to fear that he was finally sick of me being late.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

My arms were starting to hurt from just how heavy this book was. It was well-loved, as if it was out of someone’s personal collection. There wasn’t a title, but it looked old and essential.

“The graveyard.” He said it so nonchalantly.

 I stubble over my steps, almost falling. “I’m sorry, what?” So this was it, wasn’t it? So this was how I was going to die.

“Calm down; I’m not going to kill you,” He cast me a sideways glance. “ Mio fratello avrebbe avuto una crisi, per non parlare del cardinale.” I really need to learn Italian…

 I gulp–my grip on the book only tightens. I didn’t even know that there was a graveyard. What would we even be doing down there? Why were we even going to the cemetery, of all places?  I could feel a pit forming in my stomach, one I hadn’t felt in quite a while. I take an uneasy breath.

The large doors at the front of the Abbey came into view. Each step is met with the pounding of my heart. I couldn’t tell you, but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It felt like I would fall into it if I weren’t careful.  

The blinding afternoon mid-April sun nearly blinded me. The forest surrounding the Abbey seemed to breathe with each passing breeze.  The feeling wasn’t going away; if anything, it was getting worse. We were only getting closer to the forest.

“We will be back before sundown. Others know this and will not come looking for us until then. Do you understand?”

My breathing was picking up, but I nodded my head nonetheless. I have an awful feeling about this. This isn't going to end well. The sound of snapping thighs and crushed leaves echo in my ears. They seemed so far away.

Up a little bit from the path was a clearing. A fence lined the outside; several large boulders lay near the entrance. Graves lined the grounds, some older than others. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a mausoleum in the distance. There was an energy that radiated from this place. We were not alone; whoever else was still here with us was very old.

         He continued despite me falling behind. His assurance from earlier didn’t do much to help with the ever-increasing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. I picked up my pace so that I wasn’t alone. This place was beyond creepy; it felt like my every move was being watched.

He comes to a sudden stop. I collided right into his back, crashing to the ground.

“Throw something at me.” He was being so nonchalant with every word he said to me. I was left in a state of shock. I honestly really wasn’t sure how to react.

“I’m sorry, what?” I looked at him like he had three heads, slowly bringing myself to my feet. Was he looking for me to do something to have an excuse to kill me? But he said others knew we were out there.

“You head me, throw something at me.”

I slowly bent down to grab a stick before he stopped me, “No, not like that. Use your powers.”

 “I can’t do that.”

“You can, now, do it.”

“I can’t throw something with my mind.”

“We can either do this the easy way, and you stop hiding from yourself, or we do this the hard way, and I won’t be so nice. We are running out of time here principessa, and my patience is running thin.”

I gulp, looking toward one of the smaller rocks in the area. Settling on the smallest I could find, I tried to do as he asked. I could feel myself straining, but it didn’t move. Despite my best efforts, the rock did not move. Finally, I could hear Secondo let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, you chose the hard way.” He clears his throat. Snapping his fingers, the book I had been holding springs to life. The pages fly open as he brings his staff to the grown.  His white eye starts to glow.  “Now, you will fight me like your life depends on it. I am your enemy in these moments, and I will not stop until you cannot fight anymore.”

“Now, let's begin.” The word came from all around. It was almost impossible to tell where he was even despite being right in my sight. The whole atmosphere changed with his words. A chill ran down my spine.

He lifts his staff, bringing it barreling to the ground. A thunderous clap sounded off throughout the graveyard. A ring of white and orange flames sprang to life around us, trapping me in here with him.

“You cannot run this time, Principessa.” It almost didn't sound like him anymore. A low rubble echoes around me, and I try to regain my bearings.

This had to be a test, a joke even. There was no way I could do this. Then, a bright flash of orange and red whizzed past my head.

Ok, maybe he wasn't joking.

I could hear him muttering something in Latin as another ball of fire missed my body. He really wasn't joking; I don’t even think this is the full extent of what he could do. How was I going to get out of this? What do I do? Do I run, or do I hide?

Running wasn't exactly an option; a wall of fire was blocking my way. I couldn't stay here, though; he wasn't letting up–I could take cover for a second so I could at least think of what to do. I make a run for it taking cover behind one of the gravestones. It’s not much, but at least it was something.

“Come on, do we really need to do this?”  It did little to stop Secondo’s attack–continuing to throw the balls of fire toward the stone. Ok, think, what can I do to stop him? The heat of the fire was starting to get to me; sweat was falling down my body from either the adrenaline or just how much I was moving. I really wasn’t sure.  

Fire, that’s it. Ok, focus. Remember what he taught you. I take a deep breath, trying to get something to happen. Focus.

I could feel my hands heating up. A spark was forming in between my hands.  Focus. I can do this. Finally, a tiny ball of flames erupts in my hands.

“Yes!” I threw my hands up in victory. The ball of flames going with it. It flew towards Secondo, missing him completely and landing in the space beside him, leaving little more than a scorch mark on the earth.

Secondo turns his gaze towards my misfire. A dark laugh leaves his lips as I return to take cover behind the gravestone.

“Is that the best you can do?” He practically roared, throwing the ball of fire back towards me. I just barely managed to dodge it. “Do you think the enemy will go soft on you? Attack me!” He raises his staff once more.

“Stop it. I can’t do this.” I lift my head, peeking out to look at him.         “You don’t have a choice. The enemy does not care what you can and can't do. They only want you dead.” He paused for a moment. “Or would you rather they kill those you care about?” He points his staff to the side, his eyes turning to look in the direction, “Vide quid vult”

I could see two figures beginning to appear out of the corner of my eye. Terzo and Copia materialize out of thin air—a look of horror on their faces. Despite whom had summoned them, they still seemed utterly horrified by what was happening. They stood there motionless, only letting out ragged breaths; they looked like they couldn't move even if they wanted to

“Leave them out of this.” I could feel what little control I had left me. I seriously didn’t want to hurt him, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“They will not stop until you are destroyed. They do not care who gets in the way.” His eyes break from me, looking towards one of the large boulders that stood unmoving at the gateway.

“Praecipio tibi, ut tollas de somno tuo” Pointing his staff to the side, the boulder began to lift from the ground. He hurled his staff in the direction of my boys. The boulder follows his command. 

“No!” I don’t know what came over me. It was as if time had stopped; everything was moving so slowly. My legs were moving without me having to think about it. I could feel every beat of my heart racing as I desperately tried to reach them in time. Reaching them just in time for the boulder. I brace myself for impact. All air left my body as the boulder rammed into my outstretched hands. It fell to the ground with little resistance.

 Taking deep breaths, I looked behind me; they weren’t there.  I could feel what little restain I had left me. I could feel my body changing. My gaze snapped to where Secondo stood.

Terzo and Copia stood by his side—the same look of horror present on their faces. Secondo looked utterly pleased with himself. He let out a dark chuckle; a smile was plastered on his face. This was the most alive I had ever seen him before. “Good! Now the real fun begins.”

I screamed–even that seemed to have changed into something monstrous. I couldn't recognize my own voice, but I didn’t care. Charging towards him at an inhuman speed, despite this, he still managed to dodge me. It only served to add fuel to my anger.  I could feel the snakes Lucifer had put on my side burning with every move I made, but it didn't stop me. I couldn’t stop. I had to get to them.

Dodging every shot of fire, he threw at me with an accuracy I never knew I could possess. I make my way to them. I could feel an icy fire on my face, the cold air hitting me with how fast I moved. I was getting closer. The last bit of control I had left me as I let out one more demonic scream.  

This was the only time I have ever seen him show true fear. The cockiness he had completely vanished from his face. His eyes had finally returned to normal. He sprints to where I have collapsed. “Prohibere!” 

 I could barely make out the feeling of him flipping onto my back. My vision faded in and out, and I couldn't hear the word leaving Secondo’s mouth. My head was pounding.  I just wanted to close my eyes. Yeah. I should just close my eyes.

  “Are you ok?” It was distant despite him being right next to me.

The world around me goes black.

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

Fuck, it felt like there was a boulder on my chest. I couldn't move. Darkness surrounded me–there was a ringing in my ears that didn't seem to want to leave.

         “(y/n)...”

Where am I? Wait… The cemetery, Secondo… Terzo, Copia… The last thing I remember was Secondo screaming something. The rest was a blur in my memory. What exactly happened?

“(y/n)!”

Secondo? Why was he screaming? I think he’s screaming at least; everything feels as if I was floating through the clouds. My head was pounding.

“Are you there, principessa?”

I groan, the light blinding me as I try to open my eyes. “What happened?” I was in desperate need of a glass of water.

“You were beginning to lose control.” He turned his head to the side, looking towards the mausoleum.

The realization dawns on me, and with a small burst of energy, I try to sit up, “Terzo… Copia…”

“They were not real. Only illusions.”

“Oh…” I tried to sit up; my body, however, had other plans. The world around me began to spin; sighing in defeat, I lay back down. Secondo looked down at me. He looked lost in thought, a look of worry etched on his face.

“I may have gone just a little too hard on you.” He paused, looking anywhere else that wasn't me. “I should not have pushed the limits… I’m sorry.” It was so low I was surprised I heard it, and my head snapped toward him. I don't think I ever heard him apologize for anything before.

He looked like a lost kid,  unsure what to do, let alone say. He let out a long sigh looking towards me. He offered me his hand. Helping me sit up before pulling a juice box out of his back pocket.

“Did you have that in there this whole time?” I ask, thankful for it. It took everything in me to not down it in one gulp.

“This isn't my first rodeo…” There was that far-off look 

“What do you mean? I thought I was the first?”

“No. The first antichrist, yes, but not the first hybrid to have stayed in the Abbey.”

“Who was it?” I had to know. This was the most I have ever heard about this. I knew others had a demon parent, but to know there was another here was.

Secondo’s gaze moved back to the mausoleum for a moment before snapping back to me. He didn’t say anything, just looked.

“Come on, you can’t just say that and then not tell me!”

He seemed to hesitate but knew I wouldn’t stop until I got an answer. He sighed, “My wife…”

“YOU WERE MARRIED!?” I bolted upright, ignoring the pain in my head. I didn’t mean for it to come off like I was surprised. I was, however, beyond surprised to hear that Secondo, of all people, was married.

He only nodded, “She was the daughter of a ghoul and a man of this earth…”

“Well, where is she?” I could help but push more.

“She died a few years back…” A far-off look in his eyes.

“Oh…”  There was a moment of silence that passed between us.

“We’re going to try something different today.”  Secondo’s voice echoed around the halls. He wasn’t wearing his usual robes. Instead, he was dressed in a white button-up shirt and black slacks. He had his sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his arms. He was carrying his staff in one arm. He was moving with little urgency, but I was a nervous wreck.

This morning started with me receiving a rather large book shoved into my arms by a waiting Secondo and very little explanation of where we were going. In fact, this was the first thing he had said to me since I made it to his office door this morning. I started to fear that he was finally sick of me being late.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

My arms were starting to hurt from just how heavy this book was. It was well-loved, as if it was out of someone’s personal collection. There wasn’t a title, but it looked old and essential.

“The graveyard.” He said it so nonchalantly.

 I stubble over my steps, almost falling. “I’m sorry, what?” So this was it, wasn’t it? So this was how I was going to die.

“Calm down; I’m not going to kill you,” He cast me a sideways glance. “ Mio fratello avrebbe avuto una crisi, per non parlare del cardinale.” I really need to learn Italian…

 I gulp–my grip on the book only tightens. I didn’t even know that there was a graveyard. What would we even be doing down there? Why were we even going to the cemetery, of all places?  I could feel a pit forming in my stomach, one I hadn’t felt in quite a while. I take an uneasy breath.

The large doors at the front of the Abbey came into view. Each step is met with the pounding of my heart. I couldn’t tell you, but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It felt like I would fall into it if I weren’t careful.  

The blinding afternoon mid-April sun nearly blinded me. The forest surrounding the Abbey seemed to breathe with each passing breeze.  The feeling wasn’t going away; if anything, it was getting worse. We were only getting closer to the forest.

“We will be back before sundown. Others know this and will not come looking for us until then. Do you understand?”

My breathing was picking up, but I nodded my head nonetheless. I have an awful feeling about this. This isn't going to end well. The sound of snapping thighs and crushed leaves echo in my ears. They seemed so far away.

Up a little bit from the path was a clearing. A fence lined the outside; several large boulders lay near the entrance. Graves lined the grounds, some older than others. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a mausoleum in the distance. There was an energy that radiated from this place. We were not alone; whoever else was still here with us was very old.

         He continued despite me falling behind. His assurance from earlier didn’t do much to help with the ever-increasing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. I picked up my pace so that I wasn’t alone. This place was beyond creepy; it felt like my every move was being watched.

He comes to a sudden stop. I collided right into his back, crashing to the ground.

“Throw something at me.” He was being so nonchalant with every word he said to me. I was left in a state of shock. I honestly really wasn’t sure how to react.

“I’m sorry, what?” I looked at him like he had three heads, slowly bringing myself to my feet. Was he looking for me to do something to have an excuse to kill me? But he said others knew we were out there.

“You head me, throw something at me.”

I slowly bent down to grab a stick before he stopped me, “No, not like that. Use your powers.”

 “I can’t do that.”

“You can, now, do it.”

“I can’t throw something with my mind.”

“We can either do this the easy way, and you stop hiding from yourself, or we do this the hard way, and I won’t be so nice. We are running out of time here principessa, and my patience is running thin.”

I gulp, looking toward one of the smaller rocks in the area. Settling on the smallest I could find, I tried to do as he asked. I could feel myself straining, but it didn’t move. Despite my best efforts, the rock did not move. Finally, I could hear Secondo let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, you chose the hard way.” He clears his throat. Snapping his fingers, the book I had been holding springs to life. The pages fly open as he brings his staff to the grown.  His white eye starts to glow.  “Now, you will fight me like your life depends on it. I am your enemy in these moments, and I will not stop until you cannot fight anymore.”

“Now, let's begin.” The word came from all around. It was almost impossible to tell where he was even despite being right in my sight. The whole atmosphere changed with his words. A chill ran down my spine.

He lifts his staff, bringing it barreling to the ground. A thunderous clap sounded off throughout the graveyard. A ring of white and orange flames sprang to life around us, trapping me in here with him.

“You cannot run this time, Principessa.” It almost didn't sound like him anymore. A low rubble echoes around me, and I try to regain my bearings.

This had to be a test, a joke even. There was no way I could do this. Then, a bright flash of orange and red whizzed past my head.

Ok, maybe he wasn't joking.

I could hear him muttering something in Latin as another ball of fire missed my body. He really wasn't joking; I don’t even think this is the full extent of what he could do. How was I going to get out of this? What do I do? Do I run, or do I hide?

Running wasn't exactly an option; a wall of fire was blocking my way. I couldn't stay here, though; he wasn't letting up–I could take cover for a second so I could at least think of what to do. I make a run for it taking cover behind one of the gravestones. It’s not much, but at least it was something.

“Come on, do we really need to do this?”  It did little to stop Secondo’s attack–continuing to throw the balls of fire toward the stone. Ok, think, what can I do to stop him? The heat of the fire was starting to get to me; sweat was falling down my body from either the adrenaline or just how much I was moving. I really wasn’t sure.  

Fire, that’s it. Ok, focus. Remember what he taught you. I take a deep breath, trying to get something to happen. Focus.

I could feel my hands heating up. A spark was forming in between my hands.  Focus. I can do this. Finally, a tiny ball of flames erupts in my hands.

“Yes!” I threw my hands up in victory. The ball of flames going with it. It flew towards Secondo, missing him completely and landing in the space beside him, leaving little more than a scorch mark on the earth.

Secondo turns his gaze towards my misfire. A dark laugh leaves his lips as I return to take cover behind the gravestone.

“Is that the best you can do?” He practically roared, throwing the ball of fire back towards me. I just barely managed to dodge it. “Do you think the enemy will go soft on you? Attack me!” He raises his staff once more.

“Stop it. I can’t do this.” I lift my head, peeking out to look at him.         “You don’t have a choice. The enemy does not care what you can and can't do. They only want you dead.” He paused for a moment. “Or would you rather they kill those you care about?” He points his staff to the side, his eyes turning to look in the direction, “Vide quid vult”

I could see two figures beginning to appear out of the corner of my eye. Terzo and Copia materialize out of thin air—a look of horror on their faces. Despite whom had summoned them, they still seemed utterly horrified by what was happening. They stood there motionless, only letting out ragged breaths; they looked like they couldn't move even if they wanted to

“Leave them out of this.” I could feel what little control I had left me. I seriously didn’t want to hurt him, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“They will not stop until you are destroyed. They do not care who gets in the way.” His eyes break from me, looking towards one of the large boulders that stood unmoving at the gateway.

“Praecipio tibi, ut tollas de somno tuo” Pointing his staff to the side, the boulder began to lift from the ground. He hurled his staff in the direction of my boys. The boulder follows his command. 

“No!” I don’t know what came over me. It was as if time had stopped; everything was moving so slowly. My legs were moving without me having to think about it. I could feel every beat of my heart racing as I desperately tried to reach them in time. Reaching them just in time for the boulder. I brace myself for impact. All air left my body as the boulder rammed into my outstretched hands. It fell to the ground with little resistance.

 Taking deep breaths, I looked behind me; they weren’t there.  I could feel what little restain I had left me. I could feel my body changing. My gaze snapped to where Secondo stood.

Terzo and Copia stood by his side—the same look of horror present on their faces. Secondo looked utterly pleased with himself. He let out a dark chuckle; a smile was plastered on his face. This was the most alive I had ever seen him before. “Good! Now the real fun begins.”

I screamed–even that seemed to have changed into something monstrous. I couldn't recognize my own voice, but I didn’t care. Charging towards him at an inhuman speed, despite this, he still managed to dodge me. It only served to add fuel to my anger.  I could feel the snakes Lucifer had put on my side burning with every move I made, but it didn't stop me. I couldn’t stop. I had to get to them.

Dodging every shot of fire, he threw at me with an accuracy I never knew I could possess. I make my way to them. I could feel an icy fire on my face, the cold air hitting me with how fast I moved. I was getting closer. The last bit of control I had left me as I let out one more demonic scream.  

This was the only time I have ever seen him show true fear. The cockiness he had completely vanished from his face. His eyes had finally returned to normal. He sprints to where I have collapsed. “Prohibere!” 

 I could barely make out the feeling of him flipping onto my back. My vision faded in and out, and I couldn't hear the word leaving Secondo’s mouth. My head was pounding.  I just wanted to close my eyes. Yeah. I should just close my eyes.

  “Are you ok?” It was distant despite him being right next to me.

The world around me goes black.

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

Fuck, it felt like there was a boulder on my chest. I couldn't move. Darkness surrounded me–there was a ringing in my ears that didn't seem to want to leave.

         “(y/n)...”

Where am I? Wait… The cemetery, Secondo… Terzo, Copia… The last thing I remember was Secondo screaming something. The rest was a blur in my memory. What exactly happened?

“(y/n)!”

Secondo? Why was he screaming? I think he’s screaming at least; everything feels as if I was floating through the clouds. My head was pounding.

“Are you there, principessa?”

I groan, the light blinding me as I try to open my eyes. “What happened?” I was in desperate need of a glass of water.

“You were beginning to lose control.” He turned his head to the side, looking towards the mausoleum.

The realization dawns on me, and with a small burst of energy, I try to sit up, “Terzo… Copia…”

“They were not real. Only illusions.”

“Oh…” I tried to sit up; my body, however, had other plans. The world around me began to spin; sighing in defeat, I lay back down. Secondo looked down at me. He looked lost in thought, a look of worry etched on his face.

“I may have gone just a little too hard on you.” He paused, looking anywhere else that wasn't me. “I should not have pushed the limits… I’m sorry.” It was so low I was surprised I heard it, and my head snapped toward him. I don't think I ever heard him apologize for anything before.

He looked like a lost kid,  unsure what to do, let alone say. He let out a long sigh looking towards me. He offered me his hand. Helping me sit up before pulling a juice box out of his back pocket.

“Did you have that in there this whole time?” I ask, thankful for it. It took everything in me to not down it in one gulp.

“This isn't my first rodeo…” There was that far-off look 

“What do you mean? I thought I was the first?”

“No. The first antichrist, yes, but not the first hybrid to have stayed in the Abbey.”

“Who was it?” I had to know. This was the most I have ever heard about this. I knew others had a demon parent, but to know there was another here was.

Secondo’s gaze moved back to the mausoleum for a moment before snapping back to me. He didn’t say anything, just looked.

“Come on, you can’t just say that and then not tell me!”

He seemed to hesitate but knew I wouldn’t stop until I got an answer. He sighed, “My wife…”

“YOU WERE MARRIED!?” I bolted upright, ignoring the pain in my head. I didn’t mean for it to come off like I was surprised. I was, however, beyond surprised to hear that Secondo, of all people, was married.

He only nodded, “She was the daughter of a ghoul and a man of this earth…”

“Well, where is she?” I could help but push more.

“She died a few years back…” A far-off look in his eyes.

“Oh…”  There was a moment of silence that passed between us.

“How?” I should stop talking, but I could not help but want to know. She was like me… That was the most I have ever gotten to help explain what I am, and if I could get more out of him, then maybe I should press a little bit more.

“A rogue angel took her from me…” His voice was unsettlingly even, but there was a fire in his eyes. It was an anger I had never seen before, not in him.

The air around us had changed. It was as if the very spirits themselves were angry. I shudder; I don't know what I should say. The tension in the air was thick.

“She died in my arms.” he finally whispered, staring at the mausoleum once more. If I didn't know any better, it almost looked like he had tears in his eyes. They were glossed over like he was in a different, much simpler time.

“Are you ok?” I ask, my hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

This seemed to snap him out of it. He turns to look at the hand, letting out a rather long sigh. “To be completely honest with you, no. But it gets easier with time, or at least that’s what they tell me. Love is a blessing and a curse. Yet I would do it all again if I could just hold her one more time.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. I don't know what to say. We stayed like this for a while, his words repeating in my mind. Maybe I was in more danger than I thought I was. I didn’t even know angels were able to kill others. Not only that, but what does that mean for me?

I couldn’t tell you how long we sat like that. We were both in our little worlds, our thoughts racing. I glanced over at him to see him staring at the ground. I bring my hand to his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts. He snaps his head up to look at me. I offer him a smile–one he does not return. His once-tense body relaxes under my touch as he lets out a long, drawn-out breath.

“We should start heading back. I’m sure mio fratello and the cardinal are wondering where we are.”  He finally said, looking towards the sky. The sun was beginning to set– the light was leaving the graveyard, and an ominous glow was beginning to cast itself around the grounds.

The walk back was, for the most part, quiet. Secondo led the way, his staff clicking with every step he took.

“You remind me a lot of her.” He finally broke the silence. “Both of you were stubborn beyond belief; you never know when to quit. It’s something that I admire about you principessa.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Secondo.” I retort, not really sure what to say. He was doing a good job of throwing me for a loop today. “I never exactly took you for one to fall in love. You really give the silence suffering alone kinda type.”

“I never thought I would until I found her. She called me out on many of my behaviors and brought out the best in me. I don't think we would have this conversation right now if it wasn't for her.”

“I figure you would take love for weakness,” I mutter. 

“Love is not a weakness. You are not weak for being in love–it makes you all the more powerful. Don’t forget that piccolo.”

I’ve never heard him talk like this before. He was genuine with his words; nothing was hidden behind them.

“Thank you for today. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

We were approaching the edge of the woods. I could make out two figures waiting for me. One was pacing back and forth, while the other looked like he was sitting down. A soft smile formed on my face as the realization dawned on me. Terzo and Copia were waiting for me. Dispute everything; they were still waiting for me, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

My pace quickens as my thoughts race. What I had been feeling for them for months is now hitting me. I was hopelessly in love with them. I was in love with them and was scared of what that meant. Secondo’s words replay in my head. I trip over my feet, slowing up. My realization was still fresh in my mind.  

As if sensing my hesitation, Secondo let out a soft chuckle–a similar smile made its way to his face, “Go to them.” He nudges my shoulder--throwing his head in their direction. I look towards him, a silent understanding passing between us. I turn my attention back to my boys. I took off to where they stood waiting—a new fire lit in my heart.

There really was no going back after today. I have too much riding on me. I was done hiding from myself. Now it was just time to stop hiding from how I felt.

[quiveringdeer]

Camera Roll Challenge: Dating Sasha Braus

This woman is such a force of chaotic sunshine!!! It's so hard being down whenever she's around. She's so effortlessly funny even when not intending to be. But even though there are times when she seems a bit like an airhead, we know that's not nearly the case.

Sasha is a real empath ™️ You won't change my mind. When things need to get serious she can be serious. If you're in some other kind of need or trouble, she'll be there on the double! And she can recognize when you need her bubbly sunshiney charisma and when you need her laid back, supportive, just there for you presence.

You're bestfriends and lovers. And while that should be a general given for any relationship it's so completely obvious to an stranger glimpsing you two together for even a moment.

And while Connie is definitely her soulmate and Jean's not that far behind, your relationship is just as strong. No one ever said you couldn't have multiple or different kinds of soulmates and Sasha Braus is a shining example of that being true.

I have so much more to gush about this woman but I have other photos where I wanna do a part 2 for her so I'll chill. There'll be some context for the photos below the cut. 🥰

Top Left: Sasha is an early riser. Being a lifetime hunter makes it natural for her. And even if you don't like waking up until the sun is way high in the sky, there's no denying the satisfaction that comes with being up before her and catching this photo. Her hair all mussed from the way she likes to burrow her face into a pile of pillows and bring the puffy comforter up over her her ears. Early morning rays tenderly illuminating her form as she groggily sits up and faces the open window. What'd be impossible for anyone else to glean from this brief snapshot are the next beautiful moments connected in your memory.

Her hand reaches up, scratching at her scalp while her head tilts back. The messy curtain of chestnut shifts back just enough for you to see her mouth gaping in an audible yawn. The tone starts soft and flat then rises in a tapered pitch that rolls to the back of her throat before you here her lips begin to smack loudly. You used to think it was something she did on purpose during a yawn to make you laugh. Now you know it's simply one of her naturally adorable quirks.

When her hand lowers to the mattress it pats over the padded comforter toward your side of the bed. When it fails to find you there Sasha's head turns, expression pinched cutely in bleary-eyed confusion. Your laughter tumbles out before you can stifle it to take another photo. She rubs her eyes with the back of her thumbs, blinking a few times before grinning so wide her eyes slip closed again while she makes grabby hands at you. It's impossible to do anything else but move immediately forward, dropping your phone to the bedside table as you crawl over the comforter into her arms for morning smooches.

Second row left: Stopping by each horse's stall so Sasha can give them carrots and pats before she saddles up for her mounted archery field practice.

Second row right and third row left: Cute lunch date photos before meeting up with Connie and JeanBo for the newest action flick.

Third row middle: One still from the video Sasha and Connie asked you to film as they recreate a shadow fight scene with their shoddy "combat skills". To be fair it may have been more legitimate if any of you had been able to quell the fit of giggles at their antics.

Third row right: At Connie's place waiting on the quick spaghetti dinner he promised to whip up for everyone. A picture worth a thousands words but offering up thousands of questions in return. Why did y'all allow Connie to be chef for a night? Why out of you all is he the one with the nice gas stove that has an open flame? Why didn't you go check the kitchen earlier when you noticed Connie and Sasha starting up their combat reenactments again that brought them out into the living room?

Last row left: Supposedly "grocery shopping" with Sasha but she refused to grab a cart cause she just needed the essentials and now 10 minutes in she struggling to carry the armload of nothing but snackfood.

Last row right: Sweet photo Jean captured of you and Sash passed out on the bus. Not recommended, but when a bitch is tired a bitch is tired. 😩😪

[phrynewrites]

Jasco - Serendipity

Jasmine's noticed Bosco seemingly everywhere. The same dark hair clipped back as they inspected tomatoes at the community garden. The same booming cackle from across the train platform, talking on the phone. The same clicking heels as they make their way across the cafe to grab a couple packets of sugar. And each time, Jasmine's intrigued. She's alway's caught staring, sure that she's seen this person before, that she knows them from somewhere.

And she has. She just can't remember.

Every night, Jasmine goes to sleep, and when she wakes up, it's like she's encountering Bosco for the first time again, with only the faintest echo of what she'd learned these previous days, weeks, months, ringing in her ears.

Until one day she's determined to talk to Bosco, determined not to forget.

[marauderslupins]

Per aspera ad astra

through the hardships to the stars

James Potter x Reader

w/c 15,059

a/n soulmate!au, sentences in red are james, blue are reader

{ Being with your soulmate was an experience like no other. In the wizarding world everyone aspires to find their soulmate and live out their lives, but no one ever considers what it’s like to lose one. }

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

In the wizarding world, the most important form of magic was widely argued to be that of soulmate magic. Right from birth your soulmate was set in stone, not to be changed by any factor of the universe no matter what. It was a scary thought, that you only got one perfect person for you and that was it, but thankfully the world wasn’t that cruel; it gave you some help at least.

You had two links to your soulmate that began as soon as you were both born. A telepathic connection where the two of you could talk, but until you actually knew one another in person, couldn’t reveal any large details about yourself. And a sort of never-fading engraving on some space of your body that represented the constellations from the day your soulmate was born. Of course everyone was different, different constellations, different areas of the body, no two were alike.

For you, your mark was something you looked at everyday, sitting comfortably right behind your ear. You had to move your hair out of the way to see it, but you thought it made it all the more personal to you. You weren’t very good at astrology, so to you all it looked like was hundreds of little lines of stars that meant so much, belonging to your soulmate. The only real clue you could work with due to your lack of knowledge on the starry subject, was the little date etched underneath the mark, telling you your love was born on the 27th March, 1960.

Not a day went by when you and your mystery love didn’t talk to one another. It could be anytime, anywhere, even in your classes or right as you were about to fall asleep, but his unfamiliar voice was always lingering in your head. You told each other everything. There was no doubt in your mind that when you met he would be everything you ever wanted.

And of course he was. He was James Potter for Merlin’s sake.

The two of you met right at the beginning of Hogwarts like first years do, although separated into two separate houses. He was the courageous, loyal Gryffindor that everyone aspired to be and you were the intelligent, creative Ravenclaw that didn’t try to stand out in the crowd like the Potter boy.

You didn’t figure out you were soulmates until part way through fifth year though. It was on the way back from a Hogsmeade trip when you overheard the Marauders discussing their golden boy’s sixteenth birthday. Sirius was rambling away about the incredible broom he had watched his best friend open that Saturday. The day of the 27th March.

You had gasped, cutting one of your friends off in the middle of the gossip she was spilling about something she had witnessed in the three broomsticks. She settled her hand on your arm, asking you quietly if you were okay, but your eyes were too fixed on the brunette just a little way ahead of you all to hear her speaking.

“You guys go ahead, I have something I need to do,” you said. They looked at you like you were crazy, but brushed it off, saying their goodbyes as you stayed firmly rooted in your spot. Luckily the group of Gryffindors hadn’t headed back to Hogwarts straight away, they had first decided to make a little detour not too far away from where you were to just talk.

You needed to take a second to compose yourself, you could do this. You were about to meet your soulmate and you could one hundred percent do this. Somehow it was like he already knew, the voice ringing through your head. In that moment you were grateful he couldn’t hear the individual thoughts, only that there were a lot of them circling your mind.

Something troubling you sweets? Thoughts are very loud right now.

You cast your gaze to the boy again, trying to work out if he looked like he could be talking to someone in his head. You were so distracted looking for any sort of tic or anything in James’ expression to signalise that he wasn’t entirely listening that you almost forgot to reply.

Sweets?

‘M all good, just a few nerves about this thing I need to do.

You saw James’ head cock after you said that and it made your heart beat a little bit faster. That seemed too perfectly timed for it to be a coincidence, surely.

“J-James?” you called. His head turned towards the sound, confusion and some other emotion you couldn’t decipher flashing through his eyes when he saw you. He clearly hadn’t expected you to be on the other end of the voice.

He excused himself from his friends, walking the short distance to you that allowed you to study his face much more up close. You hadn’t actually ever been this close to him and you were taken aback by how attractive he was. You couldn’t believe you never noticed.

All of a sudden you were breathless, finding it impossible to snap out of it now that you were lost in his eyes. “I, um. I overheard that it was your birthday recently.”

A charming smile graced his features. “Yeah, the 27th.” How in Rowena’s name were you meant to tell him you believed he was your soulmate?

You were staring again, you were aware, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. “Y/N, are you okay?”

With a deep inhale you decided you just needed to come out and say it. “I-I think you might be my soulmate.”

There was a flurry of different emotions on his face, seeming that he apparently couldn’t settle on just one. He didn’t know whether to believe you. There was a large chance that if you brought this up because of his birthday that it could just be an unfortunate coincidence, but he wanted to know for sure. If the way his chest felt when the two of you locked eyes after you called his name was the way he would feel forever if you were his soulmate, then he wanted nothing more than for this to be true.

You shuffled awkwardly in your place. “I- look.” You brushed your hair away from behind your ear, allowing him to see a flurry of lines and a tiny date that would confirm everything you wanted to know.

The feel of his hands on your skin for the first time was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the way he was so tentative when brushing back your hair and stroking his thumb over the date of his birthday. His eyes sparkled with a childlike excitement when his eyes flickered back to yours, the glasses sitting on his nose creating perfect picture-like frames for his gorgeous eyes.

After a few minutes of admiring, he pulled back. Giving you the chance to ask the question you had been dying to. “Where’s yours?” you asked. He flushed, the colour of his cheeks tinting a gentle shade of red. Before you really knew what he was doing, he was unbuttoning his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, you didn’t really know what he was doing but you could only assume his mark wasn’t in an obvious place like yours.

You watched intently as he lifted up his shirt, ignoring how cold he probably was from the early April weather. You tried not to allow your body to get so hot when you saw the shred of skin he revealed to you. But you couldn’t help it, James was undeniably a beautiful man in every way. So much Quidditch practice had done him good.

When you finally gathered the courage to properly look at the mark on his skin, your belief was proven correct. Right there under all the stars was none other than your birthday. He could visibly see the relief flash through your eyes.

As a final measure he closed his mouth, soft eyes never leaving yours as he spoke only through his mind.

Is it really you?

You gasped, quickly delving into a joyous laugh that was music to his ears.

It’s me.

The boy looked equally as amazed as you, unsure what he was supposed to do now that you had this information. Did he just go for it and hug you? Or was that too soon?

“Hi,” you whispered, tears springing up on your waterline. He was equally as emotional. “Hi.”

From that day onwards yours and James’ love for each other only blossomed, becoming one of the best aspects of your life until your relationship was so strong that not even the war could tear it apart, but it could sure as hell try.

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Weekends spent in the castle were one of your favourite things, always had been, but that love for those two days of the week increased tenfold when you and James found each other. It was some of the only quiet times you two got together. Sirius would be off chasing some girl he ‘just knew’ was his soulmate and Remus would be huddled up with a book or two in a quiet corner of the library, reading to his soulmate in his head. It left the boy’s dorm room to you and James, allowing you to cuddle up and laze around all day as you pleased without interruption. 

On occasion Remus would sneak back in but he was never a bother like Sirius was, he was always quiet and respectful and it was usually his last resort to be there. Always emphasised with a shy apology and a timid smile. 

As for you and James the majority of the time was spent either talking or sleeping. You already knew so much about each other from your conversations growing up, but it wasn’t the same as hearing all the stories from your lover’s mouth while you laid in their arms, finally united.

“Y’know, when I was a little boy, my mum used to tell me all about soulmates. How her and my father met and that being with your soulmate was the greatest thing in the world.” He could picture it now, Euphemia tucking him into bed, stroking through his dark curls telling him stories as a young James stared up at her with those wide hazel eyes. He would listen intently to anything she had to say, hanging on to each and every one of her words like it was the most incredible thing he had ever heard. “I’ve always wanted to find you, and now that I have I know everything she told me was right.”

He probably felt the way your face rapidly grew hot, his words hitting the soft spot in your chest that was reserved solely for him. If he did notice he decided not to tease you about it, maybe due to the sentiment of the moment he was feeling. “That was when I started getting into astronomy, just so that one day I could impress you with my extensive knowledge,” he boasted. His words made you snort, shaking your head at his cocky antics. “Let’s put that to the test then, Mr Potter.” 

He grinned, watching you shift down his bed until you were hugging his hips, your cheek laying against the right of his stomach. It gave you the perfect view of the spot you were looking for.

You slowly pushed up the end of his shirt, revealing the mark relating to your birthday that decorated the left side of his lower stomach. You wouldn’t ever tire of sneaking a quick glance at his abs either when you did this, thanking whoever made you two soulmates that they placed the mark in that particular spot. And of course that your boyfriend was so pretty. 

It was a common thing for you to do this, lay your head on his lower stomach and admire the sparkling constellations on his skin. It was yet another one of the many wonders magic could do, make an already beautiful picture even better by allowing it to come to life. You were sure your own was twinkling under your hair, looking just as fascinating. 

The gentle brush of your hand on his skin was something that had the power to lull him right to sleep. At the simple touch he allowed his eyes to fall closed, his body relaxing impossibly more into his dorm’s bed. The soft sigh he let out drew your attention up to him, noticing the look of pure content gracing his beautiful features. He wasn’t sleeping, not yet at least, so you were going to take the advantage once again to listen to his astrology knowledge. Mainly just so you could listen to his voice. 

“What do they mean?” you asked, tracing some of the miniscule lines with a featherlight touch. Despite being so used to the feeling of your fingertips trailing along the sensitive skin of his stomach, he still involuntarily shivered under your touch. He couldn’t help it.

His eyes never fluttered open again, he knew what you were talking about. Over the years he had tirelessly studied each and every combination of the stars dotted on his skin, so much so that he didn’t have to see them to know them, feeling you drawing the simple shapes was enough. He always swore to you in his mind that when the two of you finally met he would spend hours reciting the patterns back to you. It was one of the thousand things that had made you so ecstatic to meet your soulmate, telling all your friends that he was already so perfect. Of course he had kept to his word. 

“That one's Andromeda. She was meant to be a sacrifice to the Gods, the only thing that would appease them, chained to a rock and supposed to be devoured by a monster Poseidon sent after her. But Perseus saw her and fell in love, he asked her father for her hand in marriage and when he got it, he slayed the monster. He saved her from death,�� he explained. You smiled softly. “Would you do that for me?” 

“In a heartbeat, sweets.”

The love that encaptured you both would have been sickening to anyone else in the room, but to the two of you it was making your hearts burst. Nothing else needed to be said on the topic to further prove your love, the two of you knew already. 

“What’s this one?” you questioned. His eyebrows furrowed for a brief second as he felt the directions of your finger on his skin. He had to rack his brain for whichever one you were referring to. But of course when he didn’t reply straight away, you being you, helped him out, tracing the shape again to hopefully jig his memory. 

“Ah. That’s Hydra. The serpent who grew more heads when you cut one off.” You hummed, dipping your finger slightly to pick another one. It just so happened to be the one he was most familiar with. 

He chuckled, “That one's Sirius.” He could feel the shift in your cheeks against his skin that told him you were grinning lazily, in that gorgeous way you always did before you giggled. “I bet he loves that. His name being on your body permanently, it’s like the two of you are soulmates instead of us.” 

He hummed, letting his hand run over your hair, smoothing down the bed head it’d become from lounging around all day. “Never lets me forget it.” You weren’t surprised. That sounded completely like a typical Sirius thing to do. 

“How are he and Lily doing?” Now that whole topic was something that confused you. Unexpected to everyone, Lily and Sirius had recently found out they were each other’s soulmates. Neither of them expected it and when they told you all you assumed they were joking, but upon further inspection of their marks, you were shocked.

They thought it was some kind of mistake, going as far as to ask Dumbledore if there had ever been a case of a mistaken match in the history of all soulmates. When he told them there hadn't, they were utterly furious. The pair didn’t hate each other, not by any means, but they certainly didn’t feel that way about one another. And they were positive they never would!

Lily was the girl James believed was his soulmate for so long, or maybe it was just that he wanted her to be. But then he met you and had the cliche love at first sight moment, and he knew. His best friend however claimed he never had that with the redhead, nor did she. But just like you had always been told, all soulmates were set in stone, never to be changed. So unless they wanted to live their lives lonely for eternity, then they really needed to work on their friendship, then hopefully relationship.  

“They’re talking, trying to work it out at least,” he informed. You were desperate for them to fall in love. You knew first hand what loving and being loved by your person was like and it was something that couldn’t ever be matched. You loved your friends too much to not help them see that they clearly were right for each other. They would be missing out on the perfect experience if they didn’t try. “I think they’d be cute together.”

He nodded. “Me too, sweets. Think he used to have a little crush on her in first year, but he must’ve forgotten.” 

The mention of crushes on Lily Evans made you smirk. “Not the only one who had a crush on her, hmm?” He could hear the amusement in your tone when you asked, but it made him flush a deep shade of red to even think about how infatuated he used to be with Evans. It made him feel so silly now, and those feelings he felt for her were nothing compared to his ones for you. “Do I sense a little bit of jealousy? ‘Cause you do know you’re my soulmate, don’t you?” 

“Shut up! You wish,” you huffed.

He chuckled. “Look,” He finally allowed his eyes to flutter open, casting a look down in your direction to make sure you were watching him. You followed the way his hand trailed as it replaced yours on his soulmate mark. “These stars twinkle for you and no one else, ever, sweets.” 

You tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach, allowing your fingers to intertwine and rest on his torso. “They better, or you’ll have hell to pay, James Potter.”

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Once you and James got into the habit of tracing one another’s marks, you couldn’t stop, no matter where you were or who was around. It was much easier for him to trace yours, it was something he much enjoyed doing while in the back of Minnie’s transfiguration lessons when he got bored.

He was known to be exceedingly good in that class, so of course he didn’t need to pay the kind of attention you did. But thank Merlin for your telepathy allowing him the ability to give you the answers without ever allerting McGonagall he was doing so, it had helped you on more than one occasion where the witch just seemingly knew you weren’t listening. You needed the help, especially when you would get so distracted by the euphoric feeling of his fingertips trailing across your skin so innocently.

James truly was a menace. You were so focused on your notes in the moment that you didn’t even notice him turning his full attention to you. If you had you probably would’ve scolded him before he touched you. Instead it was his large hand brushing your hair behind your ear that brought you back to him from where you got lost in your work. He hated something other than him stealing your attention for so long.

James Potter truly was the puppy of a boyfriend that everyone expected he was.

“James,” you warned him wordlessly. The sound of his name in your voice echoed around his head, a smirk growing on his lips when he spied the slight false annoyance you were using in your tone. 

He didn’t stop with his touch though, letting his thumb run over the majority of the mark that resided in your skin. If he heard the shaky exhale from your lips then he didn’t say anything, but the way his smile grew said everything you needed to know.

When you got used to the touch you believed you’d be able to get back to actually paying attention to your professor. But of course you were proved wrong when James’ voice creeped into your mind in a whisper. At first you couldn’t quite work out what he was saying, you quickly deciphered the words as the names of the constellations he was so carefully following. 

Draco, Pegasus, Hercules..

“Mr Potter, I would appreciate it if you could keep your hands to yourself whilst in my class.” He flushed in embarrassment as all eyes in the room turned to the two of you. He flashed Mcgonagall a very forced tight lipped smile as he slouched in his seat, dropping his hand from your face.

I told you it was a bad idea.

Shut up.

He barely bothered you again until the class ended. There was the occasional kiss placed to your shoulder when he just couldn’t resist, or a flick of your hair with the end of his quill every so often when he felt like he’d gone much too long without bothering you. But for the most part he was controlled.

He was sneaking his arms around your waist as a distraction though as soon as you began packing up your stuff. His nose nudging against your neck until you were giggling at the ticklish sensation.

Apparently all the noise you were making attracted the attention of your professor. “Miss Y/L/N, if you would please stay behind for a few moments.” You felt your heart sink and your laughter die down. Your head was suddenly swamped with thoughts of what she could possibly scold you for and it was brought right back to the moment earlier with James. Although surely if she was going to send anyone to detention for that interaction, it’d be him.

Sensing your worry, he set his hand on your arm, squeezing gently to remind you that it was okay.

James left with a promise to wait for you outside so you didn’t have to walk to potions alone, even if it meant he was late to his next class because of it. He insisted it was the gentleman thing to do. Plus he knew how much you hated being by yourself in the dungeons. Your boyfriend had quite the negative reputation around some of the Slytherin students and you were always afraid of them shifting the blame to you by association. You were arguably an easier target than the Gryffindor.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your last name leaving McGonagall’s mouth again, your eyes flickering over to where she sat behind her desk. “So, miss Y/L/N, you and Mr Potter?” she inquired. You felt your heart jump, not in a million years did you think you would be gossiping about your love life with McGonagall of all people. 

Talking about him brought a silly smile onto your face. Anyone could see you were very much in love. “Yes, it happened a few weeks back. Things are going really well.” 

She had a rare smile on her face as she watched you talk. “Soulmates?” she asked. There had been a slight hint of surprise in her tone this whole time, like she didn’t think you and James would have ever gotten together.

“Yes,” you clarified. It wasn’t that having a destined soulmate prevented you from dating other witches or wizards, but it was slightly frowned upon. Not that you believed your professor would judge you if you weren’t. “I didn’t expect it either, not when he’s so..”

“James?” she answered. In all honesty that was the perfect way to describe it. He was a troublemaker, a complete nuisance always getting himself into trouble with the other Marauders, he had done since the very first year he had been at Hogwarts. He built quite the reputation for himself among the other students and even the professors. You knew of that reputation of course, he was in many of your classes so you witnessed some of his and Sirius’ pranks first hand, but he was quickly proving to you that he wasn’t all his infamous character made him out to be. He was so much more.

You chuckled. “Yeah. But he’s so much more than I ever thought he was, he’s amazing.” 

The look of love on your face was one she would never tire of seeing among young students. Minerva always looked forward to the days in which her beloved students would finally meet their soulmates just so she could see the happiness they radiated. Despite his troublemaker ways, she couldn’t deny the soft spot she held for James Potter, nor you, so seeing two of her favourite students so in love, with each other no less, made her heart swarm with a strange sense of pride. Minerva McGonagall was in love with the idea of love. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your soulmate like?” Almost immediately after asking you regretted it. You saw the quick flicker of upset on her face before it was replaced by a fond smile. You shuffled awkwardly on your feet as you stood in front of her, you weren’t sure she was even going to tell you. Maybe she’d just brush you off and leave you in the dark. 

“I did have a soulmate, but he was killed many years ago.” Her hand shifted to the back of her wrist where you assumed her mark must’ve been. “He was a potioneer, a wonderfully talented one too. Word got out that he had been making some kind of cure for lycanthropy, I’m not entirely sure how it would work, he would never tell me.”

“But of course, the news fell into the wrong hands, to some very bad people. One day when I was teaching they cornered him in our home just a little way away from the castle, demanded he tell them everything and give him the potion. Ever the stupid man, he denied, insisting he’d die before he ever told someone like that. And they killed him.”

You admired the way she kept her composure. You yourself could feel the strain in your heart as you listened to her story. You didn’t stop yourself from reaching out to take her hand sweetly. It wasn’t going to do much but it was a little form of comfort where you could provide it. “Professor, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. Don’t apologise,” she chuckled, wiping a couple of stray tears. “I have lovely memories from our time together. Even if I wish I had more, what’s done is done now and you don’t need to worry yourself with it.”

You frowned. “I-I just couldn’t imagine losing my soulmate like that. You’re so strong, Professor.” 

She shook her head, flashing you a genuine smile. “It was a long time ago, and don’t you worry. That isn’t going to happen to you and James, sweetheart, you’re going to live the long, adoring life that me and my husband didn’t get to. I’m sure of it.” 

Even just hearing those words out loud made your heart flutter. “Thank you, we’ll be sure to invite you to the wedding,” you laughed.

She smiled sweetly, the atmosphere quickly getting serious again despite you trying to break the tension. “Remember Y/N, if you ever need me for anything, I may not be your head of house, but I’m always here.”

Her words meant a lot, and you were sure you would take her up on her offer at some point in the near future, you were just unsure when. “Thank you.”

With that you left, finding your boyfriend leaning up against the wall just opposite from the door. You wish you could’ve framed the look that crossed his pretty features when he saw you emerge from the class because you were positive no one had ever looked at you with so much adoration. 

“So, what was that about?” James nosied, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulders. With the time you had spent talking with your teacher you had certainly made yourself late for potions, but you were sure McGonagall would cover for you. As for James he was probably going to wind up with some kind of punishment from Flitwick. “None of your business, Mr nosey.” 

He pouted adorably, resting his head against yours as the two of you walked in the direction of the dungeons. “You’re really not going to tell me?” He sounded like a whiny child. 

You shrugged. “It was just girl talk, nothing that would interest you.”

His face contorted into one of complete confusion. “You had ‘girl talk’ with Minnie?” he exclaimed. Even you had to admit it was hard to believe, if any of your friends had told you the same thing you probably would’ve outright called them a liar. “You have to be joking.” 

As if he was appearing from mid-air Sirius suddenly popped up and joined your conversation. “Who’s joking about what?” His words made you scoff. How did you manage to befriend the two most curious wizards in all of Hogwarts? 

“Get this, Padfoot. Y/N here just had girl talk with Minnie.”

His eyes widened, that same disbelief that James possessed minutes earlier coating his features. “You did what!” 

Thankfully you had managed to make it to your classroom in one piece, although now you were sure James was going to be in your head all lesson until you just gave in and told him what had happened. He would never admit it but he was a complete sucker for gossip. “Well, this is where I leave you boys. Have fun.” You only slightly pecked James’ lips before heading inside the classroom, ignoring both of their pleas to just tell them how on earth you had persuaded Minnie to do such a thing. You thought it’d be more entertaining to leave them hanging. And Rowena it was. 

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

During your remaining couple years at Hogwarts, your relationship continued to get more and more serious. You met his parents, he met yours, you spent summers and holidays together and your friends grew sick of the constant PDA. It was like you were attached at the hip, anywhere you went so did he and vice versa. On more than one instance, you had found yourselves being physically separated by one of your whiny friends who tried to tell you they’d seen enough. 

But they didn’t seem to mind when it meant you were taking the next step. After all, you were all of your friend’s favourite couple.

You got married quickly after leaving school. With talks of the war that was happening you didn’t want to put it off. No one knew how badly it was going to escalate or if more and more people were going to begin to get dragged into it. You were too scared of losing him to wait another second. He was obviously the only one for you, ever, so there was really no debate when you brought it up to him.

There was no need for fancy wedding planning either. As you told James on numerous occasions, you would be more than happy for it to be just you and him. That was all you felt you really needed, there was no need for some grand gesture to prove your love for one another.

But James really wanted family and friends there, just to savour the moment with you both. You didn’t fight him on it, you were okay with that and the reactions you received after telling them all was the only proof you needed that James’ way was the right way to go. Plus it gave you the opportunity to work on your matchmaking skills with the most genius plan. 

“Here’s the plan, if Sirius is going to be the best man, or one of–” Of course he wasn’t going to exclude Remus, but you were still deciding if he was to be the officiant or not. “Then I can make Lily my maid of honour, so they have no choice but to work together for the sake of our wedding.” You clapped your hands together like it was some kind of shocking revelation, looking at your fiancé’s stunned face. 

James had merely been laid in your bed, reading through some old quidditch magazine he had in his collection, when you barged into the room to share. He had no idea you were even planning on finally getting your friends together, but apparently so. And now he also had to get in on the plan. “Do you really think that will work? They’re so stubborn.” 

You nodded. “It has to. They need to realise how perfect they are for each other.” 

He rolled his hands, taking hold of your hand and pulling you down onto the bed with him. You giggled, happily crawling into your fiancé’s arms. “It’ll work and then they’ll thank us.”

“Whatever you say, sweets.”

By the time the day of your wedding arrived, you personally thought Lily seemed happier. It had been months of spending close time together and you thought there was no possible way something hadn’t happened between them at least once. But with all that was going on surrounding you being the bride and needing to be ready exactly on time, you hadn’t gotten the chance to interrogate her until the last minute. “So?” you asked. 

She furrowed her brows, fixing the veil that sat on your head. “What’re you talking about?” 

“You and Sirius of course! How’s it going?” You had been waiting for this moment for years, the moment they would finally confirm that they were in love after denying it since they found out in your sixth year of Hogwarts. But obviously you were silly to think Lily would let go of her stubbornness that easily. “Nothing’s happening between us, Y/N.”

You huffed, slapping her hands away from your veil for a second to talk to her straight.  “Oh please, you’re still denying it? We all see how you look at one another, plus you’re practically glowing Lils, you’ve never looked this happy.” Little did she know your friends actually had bets on how long it’d take her and Sirius to finally admit they were in love, James had, much to his dismay, already lost. He wrongly assumed it would only take mere months, but now it was nearly two years going strong. So the man simply had to sit by and watch frowning as everyone else continued to gloat and insist they were going to win. 

She couldn’t hide her blush, which clued you in on the fact she was definitely lying. Your ego wanted to put it down to your master plan of making her and Sirius to be key members of your wedding planning. “Y/N, me and Pads aren’t together.”

She saw the smile on your face grow and she froze. “What?” she asked suspiciously, backtracking over everything she just said in her mind.

“You just called him Pads, you never do that.”

All her words were coming out stuttered, she couldn’t string a sentence together now that she had been caught in the act. Though she was going to refuse to admit it, there was no way she would let you be right about this after so long of denying it. She only made herself look more guilty when quickly changing the subject. “I think you’re done. I’ll go ask Remus if they’re ready to begin.

The wedding was only small, so it felt only right that Moony was to be your officiant. As well as him, your families attended, your friends and then a few other random guests that you felt had to be there. It was everything you wanted; it was perfect. 

Before you knew it Lily was confirming that it was time. You took a few deep breaths, smiling widely at your father as he took your arm to prepare to lead you down the aisle to your soulmate. The stereotypical wedding music began to play and suddenly all eyes were on you.

The brunette couldn’t take his eyes off you when he saw you standing there in your wedding dress for the first time. He was speechless. Of course you had to take the opportunity to tease him.

Like what you see, Potter?

He laughed, blinking back a few tears.

I certainly do

Get it?

You tried not to outwardly laugh at his poor joke, his ego didn’t need to get any bigger than it already was. But he could see in your face as you got closer that you were amused by his words. 

Standing up at the altar with your very soon-to-be husband felt like a dream and you were begging that you wouldn’t wake up if it was. Your hands were intertwined, your eyes locked in an intense gaze swimming with love. The smiles on your faces were unmatched. Anyone could see how much love the two of you had for each other. 

Hi

Hello, sweets

His smile grew even more, Lupin’s voice only momentarily snapping the two of you out of your telepathic conversation long enough to acknowledge he was beginning the officiants speech. But you didn’t stray away from listening for long, shifting right back to giving your full attention to each other. You probably should’ve been listening, it was going to be considerably difficult to repeat the words you were supposed to when neither of you had heard a word leaving his mouth. 

Have you seen the looks Pads and Lily are giving one another?

He emphasises his words with a flicker of his eyes towards Lily who was standing behind you. She should’ve been looking at the pair of you really, as one does at someone's wedding, but her eyes were focused over James’ shoulder, where Sirius just so happened to be standing with a dumb smirk on his face.

They are definitely together.

His eyes widened, cocking his head slightly in an ‘are you serious?’ kind of way. With the confidence you said it with it seemed like you knew something he didn’t.

What? How do you know?

Well, she didn’t exactly tell me. But I could tell with the way she was talking about him.

He always said there was one way to tell when a Gryffindor had a crush on someone, a tried and tested theory apparently. You were assuming he had already thought about it with his best friend.

Did she get all blushy and giggly?

You remembered it clearly. Specifically the blush she held when uttering his nickname.

Couldn’t stop blushing for a second. Even changed the subject.

He chuckled quietly, attempting not to interrupt your friend who was still speaking. 

Oh yeah, she’s in love. Pads did the same.

“Prongs? Y/N?” Both your heads turned like two children caught breaking the rules. Ironically, James looked like a deer caught in headlights as he shyly smiled at his friend. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” 

You both shook your heads like you were being scolded. “You were having a conversation weren’t you?” The two of you nodded. Laughter erupted from those watching as the two of you grew flustered. Remus was only feigning disappointment of course, he actually sort of expected this from the two of you. “Let’s try this again then, shall we?” 

You quickly apologised and let him begin again. “Deer-ly beloved–” He emphasised his words with an over the top wink in James’ direction, prompting a quiet snort from you as you picked up on the joke. James just rolled his eyes. 

That time around you did listen and within half an hour you were married to your soulmate. The man in front of you was now officially your husband. The day moved quickly, the meal came and went, the many embarrassing speeches were made. The ones from your father and regrettably Remus and Sirius.

You had to give Moony credit, his wasn’t as bad as your other friends. Sirius’ best man speech for James just consisted of memories from Hogwarts of the trouble they used to rope you into, as well as many, many deer puns to aggravate your husband. You had found each one funnier than the last, knowing it was always a Sirius thing to do to make jokes about James’ animagus and Remus’ lycanthropy wherever he could. Of course it left multiple guests confused, but to those who understood (minus James) you had a different appreciation for the speech.

No part of the day seemed to last. It reminded you just how quickly time moves and you felt you needed to appreciate each moment spent with James a thousand times more. You could never know when that time was going to run out.

The first dance was an emotional moment for the two of you, and for your parents who had barely had dry eyes at any point during the day. He was finally your husband. 

James Potter was your husband. 

Merlin that was a strange thought. It made you chuckle slightly to yourself and he spared you a glance. “What are you laughing at? It better not be my dance moves.”

You rolled your eyes, allowing a grin to overtake you. Even though his dance moves were fairly horrible, he was trying his best. Not even the hideous attempt at dancing he was doing could spoil your mood. “You’re finally my husband, James. After all this time.” The tears that welled up in your eyes reflected the ones in his, the two of you relishing in this little bubble of love you had found yourselves in for a majority of the day. He smiled that silly boyish smile he used to get whenever he and Sirius pulled off a successful prank back in their school days. “Guess you really are stuck with me forever now, huh?” 

He raised his hand to your face, cupping your cheek sweetly. You were only half aware of all the eyes watching you. Of course you knew they were, it was your first dance at your wedding. But really nothing but him existed in your world throughout the dance. It should’ve been awkward, having all your friends and family witness your loving moment, the two of you kissing so tenderly, but it wasn’t. It made it all the more special. “I wouldn’t change that for the world, my love.”

If you weren’t so lost in James’ hazel eyes you would’ve seen the sneaky looks Sirius and Lily were sharing, as well as the way their pinkies were intertwined under the table as they watched you both dance. Something about all the romance in the air throughout the lovely day celebrating the two of you must’ve pushed them that final step to realising that maybe falling in love with each other wasn’t the worst of ideas. They had certainly gotten closer since finding out, bonding over the way they didn’t believe they were soulmates, and the way you basically forced them to spend time together when planning aspects of the wedding, but attitudes change all the time and thankfully theirs had. Maybe it was just all the romantic atmospheres linked to weddings that did it. Either way, even if they weren’t grateful for the final push it took to get them together, you were.

Infact, you had been sneakily planning on pushing another two people together that you thought would be perfect. Both who had lost soulmates tragically who you thought would be good together. You waited until the evening slowed down, your wedding party now in full fire as Sirius handed out glasses of firewhiskey to whoever would take it, wanting to really ‘get the party started’ as he said.

You watched him with pure amusement before realising the perfect time to work your magic was probably right now. It meant you had to leave your husband’s side, which he was bothered about. The entire day he had made it his mission to keep you by his side, he didn’t want to be away from you for even a second, call him clingy but he couldn’t help it. James Potter was a sucker for you today more than any day. 

“There’s something I need to do,” you told your love, a wide grin on your face that told him you were very much up to something you probably shouldn’t be. He let you go off though, despite wanting to keep you in his arms, turning to Remus so the pair could watch as you got up to whatever bit of mischief you were planning. They tried making guesses at what you were doing, but neither of them got it. 

They were especially shocked when you approached a man they didn’t know, leading him over to where McGonagall was sitting watching the room. 

“Professor, I’d like you to meet Ennis Reynards. He works with my father down at the ministry.” There was a wide grin on your face as you tried to suss out her reaction. She seemed to actually be quite flustered, a faint blush on her cheeks as the man brought her hand up to his lips to kiss as a form of greeting. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” 

Ennis was someone you invited specifically to set him up with your Professor. He was a good friend of your fathers who you had met on multiple occasions, so it wasn’t strange or out of the ordinary, and James hadn’t questioned it. Now you were grateful for your past self making the decision.

There was a skip in your step as you headed back over to your new husband, allowing him to pull you back into his side. “Playing matchmaker now are we, sweets?” He kissed your temple affectionately, letting his hand linger on your waist. His words prompted a giggle from you, but you weren’t very focused on him, instead you were placing your attention on how McGonagall was definitely hitting it off with Ennis. 

The two men shook their heads at your interference but admired your handiwork nonetheless. Remus more than James was impressed. “If they get together, ‘m gonna need your skills to help me find my soulmate, Y/N/N.” 

You beamed. “I’d be happy to help, Moons.”

He took off with a final wave, probably going to search for another single friend of yours so he didn’t have to suffer through the sickening love between you two. The stares and the subtle touches were too much for the single man as it was.

“Don’t make it obvious, but I think you’re two for two,” he muttered, nodding his head in the direction of your redhead and brunette friends were very clearly interacting in a romantic way, whether it was because they were tipsy or not, you were counting this as a win. You had to bite back a genuine squeal that threatened to escape you if you didn’t control it. “It’s happening,” you gushed. 

You were too caught up in your excitement to notice the way James was looking at you. He had never been so impossibly infatuated with someone. 

“We did good, huh?” you asked, turning to look at him, catching him mid-stare. He didn’t look away or blush at getting caught, just continued to look at you the same way. “Yeah, we did.” 

You fell slightly awkward under his gaze, clearing your throat to push away the nerves you were feeling. Instead, changing the subject. “Come with me, I want to show you something.” You took his hand, making sure no one was watching you before you sneaked out the back of the building. The sky was dark by now, having been a long day that delved into night. It allowed you to see exactly what you were looking to show him; the stars. 

“Look,” you whispered, pointing upwards towards the sky where the constellations showed clear as day. You could see the way they reflected in the hazel of his eyes, creating the illusion they were twinkling. Unbeknownst to him, you weren’t watching the stars, you were stuck admiring his beauty. The way his curls draped over his forehead, how he had to push his glasses up his nose every few minutes when they would fall down. The way his head tilted while looking up perfectly defined his jawline, causing you to itch to place some kisses to his skin. You did just that, shifting closer to him so you could place a kiss to his jaw. “I thought we could look at how the stars are on our wedding day.”

He grinned, turning his head to look at you. “It’s just as perfect as today was.” The words made you feel warm inside, despite the slight chill of the air. 

James’ arms were wrapped around your neck, your back against his chest as your hands stroked his forearms. Neither of you needed to say anything for a while as the two of you just enjoyed the night sky in each other’s embrace. The brunette was the first once to speak up, kissing your head to catch your attention from the daze you had found yourself in. 

“You’re home to me, Y/N. You’re my safespace.” His nose nudged the side of your face sweetly. You leaned further back into his arms, squeezing one of his arms. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Yours and James’ love was one of those that never dimmed. Not even after his parent’s untimely death just a few months after your wedding, in fact you were the glue that held him together. Soulmates in the past, those who had met early on in life or had gone through tragic occurrences together, had been known to have fallen out of love before. But not you, not even when you had to briefly go into hiding separately because of the Dark Lord. He would’ve joined you in a heartbeat if he could, he hated the idea of you having to live alone with a bounty over your head that was because of him. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you. But Dumbledore had advised you that it’d be much smarter to keep you in different safehouses. James was who you-know-who was really after and being away from him would give you a better chance of making it out of this alive. Not that you wanted to if it meant your soulmate was gone. You were much more opposed to the idea than he was.

But of course you voiced your worries to him and he was surprisingly okay with shipping you off somewhere. If Dumbledore believed it to be for the best then he trusted him. You should’ve protested harder though, should’ve demanded that you stay together for any reason you could make up.

“I think it’d be safer for us to be apart,” he said, honestly. Of course with the impending war looming over the wizarding world, everyone was on edge. Especially you and your husband after James was specifically targeted by the dark lord. When he received the invitation to join the dark side he obviously declined, but that only made him an even bigger target in the eyes of those who were evil. It terrified you, both of you. You felt that at any second you could turn around and be killed out of nowhere, but you promised to get through it together.

It was one of your larger hesitations when it came to parting from him, there was no doubt in your mind that your husband was a powerful wizard, he was one of the best you’ve ever seen, but in the case of being attacked two wizards were always stronger than one. “But what if it’s not? I just want you to be safe, James. Maybe the best thing is for us to stay together.”

You hoped your wishful smile would be enough to convince him you were right on this. Apparently he was set on his idea though. “It’s for the best, sweets. ‘M sorry.”

The conversation was finished on his behalf at that point. You were still in disbelief, finding any opportunity to protest, but within hours the plans were finalised with Dumbledore. James would go to one place in a different city, and you another.

It was all so short notice that you didn’t get to prepare, or really give the goodbye to your husband that you thought you deserved. All you had was one evening, then the next morning you would both be gone.

James’ strong arm slinging over your waist was what drew you from your circling thoughts. He could tell you were pretty far gone up there by how quiet you had been. “What’s going on in that pretty little head ‘f yours?” he questioned. His arm around your body pulled you closer, your back pressed into his chest with no room between you both.

In the moment you couldn’t find the strength to speak, whether it was from defeat or the fear that you would burst into tears if you tried to say anything.

Nothing important, just tired

He knew you were lying, but he also knew he didn’t want to fight with you over something he couldn’t change. If the threat of the Dark Lord wasn’t one that was so potentially fatal then he wouldn’t ever consider leaving you like this.

As for you, you didn’t have the effort to fight about it anymore. If this was going to be your final night together for who knows how long, then you wanted to do nothing but lay in his arms the whole time. It was such a familiar feeling but it created a sense of longing in your chest, like you needed more of him even where you couldn’t get more.

“James?” you whispered. He could practically hear the tears building in your eyes just from the tone of your voice and an ache bloomed in his chest because of it. “Yes?” You cuddled impossibly closer to him, burying your face in his chest so you didn’t have to show him the sadness etched all over your expression. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for a decision that was already difficult for him to make.

“Can you tell me what the stars mean again, please?” Your touch was light when brushing over his skin in the familiar spot, you didn’t even need to look anymore to know exactly where on his skin it sat. He hummed, reeling off one of the many stories he was so familiar with. It was one you actually hadn’t heard before, which was difficult considering how often you asked to hear all about the astronomy on his body.

“Castor and Pollux, half-brothers. Castor died and Pollux was so heartbroken over it that he asked Zeus, his father, if he could share his immortality with his brother. Zeus agreed, turned him and his brother into stars who now live forever in the night sky.”

“You haven’t told me that one before.”

He brushed his thumb over the spot behind your ear. “It’s actually one that’s on your mark. Realised we never talk about those ones.” Your eyebrows raised, peering up at him through your lashes with a child-like curiosity. He thought it was positively adorable. “I didn’t know you were familiar with them.”

He chuckled, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. He stated his words like it was the most obvious thing he had ever said. “I’ve spent hundreds of hours admiring every inch of you, sweets. Of course I’m familiar with them.” His tone was so genuine that it brought even more tears to your eyes. He didn’t realise they were happy tears though, attempting to soothe them away. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to–”

You shook your head, offering him a bright smile. It was the most authentic smile he had seen from you in days. It contradicted your mood from the entire night. “That was really sweet James. Merlin, I don’t know why I’m crying over it though.” You laughed at yourself, bringing your hand to your face to wipe the tears away. Your husband just smiled, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand so tenderly.

“I think we’re probably both just tired. It’s late, let’s get some sleep, huh?”

You agreed. Although you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before tomorrow, you couldn’t deny that all the emotions of the day had exhausted you. Maybe it was best if you went to sleep before something took a nasty turn by accident.

“Can’t go to sleep with these on, silly,” you whispered, lifting the spectacles from his ears to place on the table beside his bed. He often forgot he needed to take them off before he slept sometimes. It was one of his better flaws that you would never mind helping out with. “That’s better.”

The two of you got comfortable again, conversation between you both ceasing as you delved into a comfortable, familiar silence. So far along in your relationship, you rarely needed to fill it with conversation.

You fell asleep with him spooning you. His strong arms and body were completely wrapped around you like he was protecting you from the bad dreams you were positive you would be having. You felt safe and you were certain you had never fallen asleep so fast.

The next morning you didn’t want to open your eyes, even when you were awake. You knew James was already awake, he was an early riser. But if you opened your eyes now you were confirming you were awake and then the day had to begin. Sometime in the night your positions had changed, you were now tucked into his side with your head on his chest, while he laid on his back. Your husband was tracing his finger up and down the skin of your arm, his lips pressing to the top of your head every now and then. You didn’t know if it was in an effort to wake you, he probably already knew you were awake just because he had spent so many mornings beside you. “I know you’re awake,” he admitted after a while. It brought a frown to your face, not wanting to get up. Part of you thought maybe you could just not respond to him and he’d drop it. But you knew that wouldn’t work like you hoped. “No I’m not,” you muttered.

You felt his chest shake slightly under you as he laughed, the angelic sound a welcomed noise. “We should get up. They’ll be waiting.”

You whined, burying your head further into his chest. “But then I have to admit this is real.”

He frowned, bringing his hand under your chin to gently guide your head upwards. He needed you to look at him so you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Sweets, I can’t promise you enough that we will be together again as soon as possible.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, as though the remaining tear tracks from all the emotions last night weren’t enough. He could feel the start of the water dripping from the corner of your eyes onto his skin. He cooed quietly, encouraging you to sit up so he could hold you better. “But what if something goes wrong? I still think staying together is smarter than sepe–”

He cut you off mid-sentence. “Dumbledore made up his mind, he isn’t going to change it now.”

“What if I lose you? What if you lose me?” you whimpered. He shook his head, offering you a tiny smile. “You’re my soulmate, I’d never let you get away.”

Those were the only words he needed to say, your conversation coming to a speedy end after that. All that was left was to get out of bed and face today’s fate.

You got dressed in silence, did most of your morning routine in silence for that matter. It wasn’t that you were mad at your lover, you just couldn’t find it in you to entertain his desire to talk. You tried to let him know you weren’t angry though. You wrapped your arms around him multiple times, found some way to touch him no matter what you were doing just so he would know this wasn’t about you being angry.

You’re sure you aren’t mad at me?

You looked over to him from where you were sipping out of your mug of tea with a smile, shaking your head as you saw his concern-raised eyebrows above his glasses. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, placing a kiss to the top of your head as he passed by you. “‘M going to go and get my things ready. Padfoot and Moony should be here soon.”

You nodded, letting him know you would follow him up in a few minutes. As soon as he was up the stairs you were going to have to take a few minutes to compose yourself and you were sick of hearing the same shitty excuses for this decision from him. You would prefer he just didn’t know.

Everything moved so fast. You tried dragging out the packing as long as you could, but you were finished all too quickly, trudging your way down the stairs where you would soon be apparating.

Seeing James standing in the middle of the living room with his stuff was heartbreaking enough. It made your chest ache and you couldn’t help but take one last look around your home, considering you were unsure when you would be back in the place. “Are you ready to go? You have everything?” With a deep inhale you nodded, showing him your bag was packed. All you were waiting for was your two friends to show up, the ones who would be your secret keepers. They didn’t take long. They were late as usual, but you couldn’t expect any less from the pair, but nonetheless they showed up prepared and ready to take you to the locations Dumbledore had provided them with.

All that was left was for you and James to say your final goodbyes.

“I love you,” you stated, some of your only, but the most meaningful words you had said to your husband all day. He kissed you gently. “I love you too.”

It may have seemed like you were the only one struggling with this, but he was breaking inside too. His chest ached and his stomach turned uncomfortably at the realisation this was going to be the last time in who knows how long, probably too long, that he was going to hold you in his arms. That he was going to kiss you.

His smile was fake but you were too clouded with emotion to notice it wasn’t real. “We’ll be back together, sweets,” he promised, kissing your forehead. His lips lingered on your skin for a few seconds, pushing back his own tears as he wiped yours away from the corner of your eyes with his thumbs. “‘S never the end for us. I’ve said it a hundred times, but you’re my soulmate, don’t forget that.”

You nodded, pursing your lips tightly. If he heard your sniffle he didn’t mention it, not wanting to drag this out any longer than it should have been, that would only make it harder. Instead he just pressed his lips to yours, pouring all the love and passion into the gesture. It was his personal way of reassuring you that things were going to go okay. It would all be over soon.

I’m always with you.

You hummed, flashing him an unconvincing smile. Promising him you were okay. “Uh, we should go,” Sirius said, laying his hand on your arm. Sirius was to be coming with you, him and Dumbledore would be the only one to know where you were hiding. As for James, he had sort of claimed Moony as his secret keeper. “Yeah, ‘m ready. Let’s go.”

You left with one last look back over at James, but he and Remus had already gone, apparating to wherever it was they were headed. You frowned a little but shook it off when Padfoot called your name. He felt like he needed to check on you even if your answer wasn’t entirely convincing. He knew you too well to believe your false front you were putting up.

It was nice to have a companion for a little while. Knowing you could be on your own for some time made you cherish the journey to this new place with Padfoot all the more. The two of you apparated to a train station, deciding you would go from there to your final location. It was a long journey, meaning you were far away from your home, but it was going to keep you safe.

It wouldn’t take a genius or even someone that knew you well to notice how sad you were, Sirius picked up on it from a mile away. He knew the only thing that would cure your sadness was for this entire mess to go away, but the only thing he could really give you was his comfort.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders on the train, letting you cuddle into his side of your own accord. “How’s it going with you and Lils?”

Usually he wouldn’t have entertained the subject, but if it was going to distract your mind from everything going on then he believed it was the least he could do. “It’s going really well,” he gushed. “She’s amazing.”

You smiled knowingly, giving him a look that screamed ‘I told you so.’ “I’m glad. ‘M happy you're happy, Pads.”

The pair of you made sparse conversation over the journey, about Lily, about Remus, about all kinds of random things that would pass the time and take your mind off of James. You would be eternally grateful for the time you spent with Sirius that day.

When you made it to the street the safe house was on, you felt your heart sink. You were used to always living with someone. You went from living with your family to spending seven years with multiple roommates in Hogwarts, to briefly living with the Marauders when you first left to school, to finally moving in with James. That’s the way it had been for years. The thought of living by yourself was actually quite terrifying and lonely, especially when your life was currently still at risk.

You didn’t wait for your friend to sense your discomfort, you just took his hand in yours and took the first step down the road towards the house. The first step to your temporary life.

You stopped in front of the door of the address that Dumbledore had provided you with. Sighing as you took in the view of the neighbouring houses. “Home sweet home,” you sighed. Sirius knew you were upset, taking the few steps it would take to close the gap between you. He wrapped you in his arms, leaning his head on yours in a friendly gesture. “Things will get better soon, and I’ll grace you with my lovely presence whenever I can,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. You heard his quiet mutter of pain but didn’t apologise. “If that’s all ‘m going to get for a while, then I’ll take it Pads.”

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The owl at your window was completely unexpected. Due to your telepathy you and your husband didn’t need to send letters by owl to one another when you were apart, you both agreed that was just unfair to whichever creature had to carry it. But other than him you didn’t really know who would be sending you letters out of the blue. Sirius wasn’t exactly the type.

You didn’t recognise the cute animal pecking at the glass, but you took the envelope from its mouth anyway, thanking it kindly before it departed. You slipped the piece of parchment out of the envelope, reading over the words scribed in the familiar handwriting of none other than Sirius Black. You probably should’ve just known it was him, him and Dumbledore were the only people who currently knew where you were and you trusted them both not to go and tell anyone and you couldn’t imagine the older wizard would have anything to say to you.

The letter was simple but rather ominous, it didn’t really tell you much but it did a good job at instilling a deep worry in your stomach.

Need to talk, Moony and I will be there soon.

- Padfoot

You assumed that the nicknames were in case the letter happened to be intercepted by anyone. It wasn’t likely with the area you were in, but you didn’t know the lengths the Dark Lord was willing to go to to try and hunt down your husband; you could never be too careful. You put it aside and honestly nearly forgot about it until the tell-tale knock on your door a while later. It was strange having them knock, usually when they gave you a heads up they would just apparate into your living room. That’s what they had always done when they came over to yours and James’ home. It probably should’ve been a sign that something was wrong right then.

“Sirius, Remus, how are you both?” you asked, pulling them both into hugs after they entered through your front door. “This is very out of the blue, the owl too, I didn’t recognise him. Is everything okay?”

The two of them shared a look. But not a good look, one that instilled a fear deep inside of you. It put you on edge, shuffling in your place nervously as you waited for one of them to speak up. In the silence you found that your hand had gravitated towards your soulmate mark, keeping your fingertips pressed against it for a sense of comfort. But it was unclear whether it was actually for comfort or you had a bad inkling that something had happened to your love.

Oh Merlin James, please be okay.

Sirius stepped forward, offering you a weak smile. “Y/N.” There was no easy way for him to break the news to you, so the man just went for it in true, blunt, Sirius Black fashion. “James is dead. You-know-who got to him and–”

After his first three words his voice turned to white noise. All you could see were his lips moving but it was like no sound was making its way out, or at least not to your ears. At first Sirius was surprised by how well you were taking it, until he realised that you were swaying on your feet as if you were going to pass out.

That’s when he stopped talking, queuing Remus in quickly to get a hold of you. You were grateful for Remus’ steady hands helping you over to the closest seat available, because you were unsure how much longer your legs would’ve held out for. You didn’t speak for a few more minutes after, still processing what he said. But when you finally gained your voice back, the first thing you did was accuse them of being liars. “You’re lying.” Your voice came out no louder than a whisper, not much of an accusation considering you clearly didn’t believe it yourself. You wanted to believe it, desperately, but you couldn’t. “He can’t– no, he can’t be dead.”

You tried talking to him, calling him in your head in hopes he would respond but of course it was useless and some may say slightly pathetic.

James. James, please!

You can’t be dead.

Please…

Your attempts were fleeting and only made you hurt worse, finally letting the first sob ripple through your throat. It broke the two men’s hearts, the pair sharing a look that you didn’t see.

“I-I have to go,” you muttered. You were just so overwhelmed and you couldn’t stand the pity looks you were being given by your friends. They didn’t have time to stop you before you were reaching for your wand that had been discarded on the table carelessly earlier in the day. You probably weren’t in the right state of mind to attempt to apparate, but you weren’t going to allow either of the two men to stop you. You had your desired location and your wand and with that you were off back to Hogwarts.

You suspected Mcgonagall would be more than surprised by your visit to see her, you hadn’t really seen her since she came to the wedding, only a few times at Order meetings. But you were positive she would welcome you with open arms. You found her sitting in her classroom like you suspected, quill furiously scribbling down something that looked very important.

You hoped you weren’t interrupting. “Minnie?” you whispered. It was all you could muster at the moment. Her head turned, looking at you curiously. Her brows furrowed upon seeing you standing there.

“Y/N, what are you doing here, dear?” Only when she looked closer did she notice the look of distress on your face, along with the way your cheeks glimmered in the candlelight when you moved any which way. Not in any way did she ever expect you to utter the words that you did, her heart cracking in her chest slightly. “He’s gone.”

Those two words led to numerous hours of comfort from the sweet woman. You were surprised by just how loving she could be but you wouldn’t have traded that love she was showing you for the world. After the initial sobs were finished, no more tears left to leave your eyes, the two of you just talked for a while. You told her what was on your mind, the parts of your feelings you could work out, everything. It didn’t cure your sadness, nor did it do much to cure your broken heart, but it was what you needed just to make it through that half of the night. And a hug from Minnie you found was definitely in your top ranked hugs.

By the time you apparated back into your home it’d been hours. Both Sirius and Remus had fallen asleep on your sofa, looking exhausted if you said so yourself. Although lately with the war raging on and the constant devastation, not many people were finding it in themselves to get proper sleep. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your face, reminding you of much better times. You had seen this exact picture whenever one of them wanted to crash at your home when their own was too far when they’d had a little too much to drink.

You took the liberty of covering them with some spare blankets you had, ruffling Sirius’ unruly hair softly. Moony only woke when you were covering him with the blanket, his lycanthropic hearing picking up on your sniffles even in his sleep. One of the downsides, but in this case the bright side of being a werewolf.

He immediately jumped up, his hands cupping your face as his eyes raked your body for any injuries of any kind. “Merlin Y/N, where have you been?��� Remus fussed. “We’ve been so bloody worried about you.” He gently brushed away the tears staining your cheeks, allowing you to just melt into his chest with a broken sob. You didn’t respond to his previous question, just begged that he hold you for a little while.

Remus’ hugs were unmatched. Being so tall made him the perfect cuddler, it was like his limbs could wrap around you and make you feel just so protected and safe all the time. Obviously you loved your husband’s hugs too, but the friendly ones from Moony just had something different about them when you were having a bad day and just needed a friend. “‘Ve got you,” he whispered.

He held you for hours. Neither of you had any idea exactly how long you were sitting there together in each other’s arms but you weren’t aware of how much you needed it until it happened. Remus was the first one to consider moving when he saw the way your eyes were beginning to droop after all the crying you had done during the day. “Why don’t you head to bed, you look tired.” You frowned, burying your head in his neck comfortably. “Come on, I’ll help you get there.”

Quickly realising he didn’t know this home like your shared one with James, you were the one actually leading the way, he was just supporting you. It was nice being tucked into bed by him, it made you feel warm and loved. “Get some sleep, okay?” He made sure you were comfortable and didn’t need anything before he left you alone. He switched the light off for you, whispering a quiet goodnight before leaving the room.

Being left with your thoughts after the day you had was awful. It allowed you to think far too much and you could feel your emotions building up all over again. You tried to push them down as far as possible, just long enough to allow you to finally fall asleep and escape everything even if it was only for a few hours.

Right before you fell asleep from the emotional exhaustion, you could’ve sworn you heard James’ voice echoing through your mind, saying the three word sentence that you really needed to hear at that moment.

I love you.

But it couldn’t have been more than a fragment of your imagination. He was gone.

. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Despite wishing to do absolutely anything else at that moment in time, Lily had dragged you along to an Order meeting. She insisted you had to attend, especially as you had been slacking in attendance to the last few. You just couldn’t bear to do it knowing someone would bring up James’ ‘sacrifice’ for the wizarding war and you couldn’t stand to hear it.

Even now as you sat between Remus and McGonagall, you wanted desperately to head home so you could continue your moping. You hadn’t been listening at all throughout the entire time Alastor had been speaking. You were far too uninterested.

Instead your head rested on Moony’s shoulder, fingers intertwined as you stared blankly at the table in front of you. No part of this war was any longer shock worthy to you now that it had felt like you lost everything. You could only imagine this was the same kind of heartbreak Minnie had been through. Who, speaking of, was sending you sympathetic glances every few minutes.

“Y/N,” Dumbledore addressed you, pulling you from the daydream you had lost yourself in. You didn’t try to fake a smile, you were much too far past that stage of your grief to pretend like it wasn’t bothering you. You wanted them to know you were angry, whether it was wrongfully so or not, at each and every one of them for recruiting you and James to the Order of the Phoenix. “We have something for you.”

You assumed you would be about to receive another boatload of pity that you didn’t want. Despite the comfort you received from Remus, Sirius and even Mcgonagall over the last few weeks, no other form of pity had been welcomed by you.

However, you had been completely wrong. Not a single ounce of you had been expecting the curly haired man the universe said was your soulmate to walk through that door. It filled you with too many emotions at once. The main one was shock. You hadn’t ever expected to see James like this again; alive and standing within the same room as you, but somehow he was. After that it was relief and the urge to curl up in his arms for eternity. Just let him hold you until all your bad feelings went away and you were back to being your in love self. Then the confusion and anger hit, how on earth was it possible that he was even here. Had they lied to you?

James didn’t know why he assumed you would be happy to see him, maybe just the sudden relief he was alive more than anything would give you at least a brief moment of happiness. But there was nothing. Your face was stoic as he entered the room, but he could see the whirlwind of emotions happening behind your eyes.

Apparently when neither of you said anything the tension became obvious, the other wizards and witches in the room feeling it was best for them to excuse themselves from the room. 

Dumbledore was the one to announce their departure. “We’ll leave you to get reacquainted.” The old man said it so casually, like James had been off on a holiday for a few weeks and had just come home to see you for the first time since getting back. Not like the situation you were actually in, where you believed your husband was dead for weeks.

It was like as soon as the room was only filled with those you supposedly loved, a switch flipped and you exploded. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you seethed, pushing on Remus’ chest aggressively. He was only your target for the time being because he was closest to you. You didn’t know which one of them to look at. You felt like a mother scolding your children.

Neither of them could get a word in before you were on them again. Meanwhile James and Lily both watched uncomfortably while preparing for their own turns as the victim of your wrath.

“I came to you both and you held me while I sobbed, for weeks. But not one of you had the decency to tell me it was all a lie?” 

They both looked riddled with despair, sharing helpless looks between each other. Remus had always been the better of the two with words, but now they were completely failing him. He may have always been prepared academically, but no one ever told you what to say after betraying one of your best friends to protect them.

“We couldn’t,” Sirius tried. You just scoffed, furiously wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, though it certainly didn’t matter when more began to stream down your cheeks.

“I told them it wasn’t a good idea,” Lily piped in. Your eyes widened, turning to the redhead with utter disgust. “You knew as well?” 

You could see her face fall, realising you were unaware of her knowledge on the situation. She realised how it must have sounded to your ears but in her defence she wasn’t in on the original plan. She only knew James was alive because Sirius couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It had been an accident, he hadn’t meant to tell and he wasn’t supposed to tell. The more people that knew, the more risky it got that the secret would get out and ruin the plan. He only had to keep it quiet until the heat on James died down and things with you-know-who was settled.

Lily was confused why Sirius didn’t seem more upset. His best friend– practically brother had just been murdered, and here he was cracking jokes with her over the silliest things. She called him out on it of course, her original belief was that he was holding down his emotions and one day he was going to explode and it’d be messy. But then he spilled that James was in fact alive.

She had demanded they tell you, having witnessed first hand what the supposed demise of your lover was doing to you, they all had, but Sirius had explained to her that it would be much more dangerous to let you in on it; the damage was already done anyway.

“She didn’t know from the beginning,” Sirius clarified, feeling rather overprotective of his lover now that you were looking at her so viciously. “But she still knew.” 

She had no idea how she was supposed to make it better. “Y/N I–” You didn’t physically know how to react. You felt like you were being betrayed by everyone you cared about, like your heart was being ripped out of your chest and stomped on by your loved ones. “I don’t want to hear anymore of your fucking lies.” 

“Darling,” James interrupted, pulling you back from the redhead and the two men who looked irreversibly guilty. He was the next target of your anger, your head whipping around to look at him with the utmost betrayal. You couldn’t even think of what to say to him at first, so physically and emotionally hurt by even the mere thought of what he did. “Don’t you dare!” You could’ve honestly laughed at the way he assumed you weren’t furious with him. Just because your current anger was directed at two of your friends, didn’t mean it wasn’t mainly aimed towards James. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” 

He frowned, reaching out for your hand that you quickly pulled away. “I had no choice.”

“There is always a choice.” 

He shook his head, making yet another excuse for his behaviour that wasn’t going to slide with you. “It was Dumbledore’s idea.”

“You didn’t have to go along with it,” you threw your hands up in exasperation. 

“It was the only—“

“I thought you were fucking dead, James!” The volume of your voice brought a guilty silence over the room. Your three friends were gawking at the scene in front of them. Never had any of them ever seen you so angry, especially not at your lover of all people. “I-I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.” 

Those words had his entire body basically going into shock, his brain kicking in with an urgency. This may have been his last shot at convincing you to reconsider. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to realise your reaction to Dumbeldore’s plan wouldn’t have been all smiles, but he never believed you would’ve blown up like this. His belief was that he would simply explain himself and how he went along with it because he thought it would throw you-know-who off in the war and you would be so overcome with relief that you would completely understand. 

Unfortunately, life isn’t that kind of fairytale he wished it was, he didn’t consider the pain he was putting you through. He was being selfish. He’d hate him too. “No, Y/N, please, you have to understand.” You were cut off before you could reply again, no doubt going to say another thing that would break James’ poor heart into more pieces. Remus as always tried to be the voice of reason, tried to make you see the mistake you were going to make by pushing James away. “We all just need to sit down and talk about this, calmly.” 

You shook your head. “I’m done with being calm or even trying to understand. I thought the three of you were my friends, but this? This is something I can’t look past.” Once again your husband hadn’t learnt where your emotions currently stood with him, thinking that he could make you see reason when it came to your mutual friends. But you felt just as strongly angry, if not more, at him than you did them.

“Hey—“ He placed his hand on your shoulder only to have you shrug it off, shooting him a violent glare that would certainly leave him actually dead if looks could kill. “Okay, okay.” He backed off. “I know I will never truly be able to apologise for what I did, but I want to make it up to you anyway that I can, sweets.” 

In the haste to form a worthy apology to you, he hadn’t noticed you slipping off the jewellery on your finger. Not until you slipped it into his palm and closed his fist around it with the coldest stare you could muster, ignoring any and all tears that dripped down your face. “Come and find me when you decide our marriage is more important than being a coward.” Your words were laced with venom as you turned on your heel, marching out of the door of 12 Grimmauld Place to head back to your home, the one you planned on keeping James out of for as long as possible.

“Prongs..” Sirius called, weakly, clutching onto Lily’s hands as his own tears began to fall. The brunette held out his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal the wedding ring you had given back to him. That was his final straw, any barrier that was holding back his emotions finally crumbled. Remus had to jump into action to prevent his friend from falling, seeing how weak he was getting right in front of their eyes. A cruel reminder to him of the moment you found out about James’ ‘death’ and how you had done almost the exact same thing. 

James could only imagine this was a fraction of the way you felt. You may have temporarily lost your soulmate and got him back, but he fucked up so badly that he definitely just lost you; and he didn’t even know if you were going to come back.

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female) genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form word count: 33k warnings: college alcohol consumption, discussion board posts, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe, miscommunication, if you hate rom-coms do not read this fic

a/n: i am so so so excited to share this monster of a jungkook fic (tho let’s be real, 30k is pretty standard for me now ;-;) with you all! this is basically rom-com trash, but it’s my rom-com trash, and i hope you all enjoy!

on a sadder, less exciting note: after this fic i will be taking an extended writing hiatus until at least the beginning of may. my semester is picking up and i unfortunately just don’t currently have any upcoming fics planned for you guys. i hope you understand!! maybe i’ll do a couple of ask games here and there to see if anything piques my interest, but other than that please do not expect major works of writing for a while. love you all!

500 Days of Summer is a movie you all have probably seen before. That being said, I encourage you to respond to this discussion board from a film perspective as opposed to a viewer’s perspective. How did 500 Days of Summer alter the classic narrative of boy-meets-girl? Do you think it was a smart move, on the parts of Webb, Neustadter, and Weber, to do so? Why or why not?

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

I thought that the change in the boy-meets-girl narrative that had been popularized by rom-coms of the 1990s definitely contributed to his popularity and its attractiveness towards viewers in general. The film makes it clear that the story does not have a so-called happy ending, but despite that, it still brings into discussion the idea of love and soulmates and true connection. And that’s important, because despite the film’s not-so-happy ending, it makes it a point to emphasize that those things are real. That love is real. I thought it was an excellent move on the parts of the writers and director, because they both broke standards in terms of happy endings in rom-coms and they stayed true to the message at hand. 

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

When you walk into class, Jeon Jungkook is already there. 

He sits in the front row, the seat closest to the door in your puny little classroom, much too small for twenty-students to fit comfortably, let alone watch movies on the pull-down projector screen above the chalkboard. You’re convinced he’s chosen that seat just so he can grin at you whenever you walk in the room, always later than him because apparently, he has nothing better to do with his time than show up to class early and smirk at you when you arrive. 

As you shuffle past his seat towards your own—second row, middle of the room, centered with the lecturer’s podium—with your usual scowl drawn neatly across your face, Jungkook says, overly bright and cheery, “Good morning, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make your nose scrunch up in further disgust. “Shut up,” you grumble back, stuffing yourself into your chair and pulling out your laptop. One row in front of you and five seats to the right, you see Jungkook chuckle. 

Glowering, you open up your Notes document for the class and try to avoid staring at Jungkook’s side profile, the way he’s slouching lazily in his seat, and what looks to be a lengthy paragraph on his computer screen, a task that proves to be particularly difficult because he happens to sit in the exact spot you have to look in order to see your professor enter the room. What the hell is he even writing, anyway?

He straightens up the moment she does, cheerful as always as she smiles at everyone. “Good morning, everyone.”

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

“I can just feel the enthusiasm radiating throughout the room,” she jokes, clenching her fists together in success. At least that gets a couple of you to laugh. “Which is great, because before we get to anything today, we’re gonna talk about the final project.”

You smile to yourself, immediately pulling up the copy of the syllabus you had downloaded to your desktop, scrolling right down to where she had outlined information about the final project in big, bolded letters. There are a lot of reasons you’ve taken this class, not the least of which is the fact that you have had Professor Pollack three times prior to this and she’s loved you in every class, but the final project was definitely one of the major selling points. 

Pollack pulls up a more detailed final project document on the projector as she steps out from behind the podium. “As you guys know, your final project is a thirty-to-forty minute short film involving rom-coms. You guys have a lot of freedom, it can be a rom-com, it could be a documentary about rom-coms, anything. It just needs to involve the topic of rom-coms somehow. I know a lot of you have actor friends who would be more than happy to have a star-crossed lovers fling or whatever. Go wild. Just keep it PG-13, because I can’t in good faith have nude bodies of your fellow college students on my screen.”

You snort to yourself. Makes you wonder how many times Pollack has seen sex scenes of college students on her screen before. Too many, probably. 

Unintentionally, your eyes drift over to Jungkook. He seems to be working on that hefty paragraph of his, typing something you assume is completely unrelated to the topic at hand and is further proof that Jungkook just doesn’t give a shit about anything involving this class. Whatever. You turn back to Pollack. 

“Good projects not only capture the essence of what a rom-com is, but also put their own twist on the story and bring into question the topics we discuss in class, like truthfulness, realistic portrayals of love, and viewer interpretation,” she continues, and with every word you feel heart beat faster in excitement. “I know you’re all excellent filmmakers. That’s why you’ve taken this class. But what I want you to do is get into the nitty-gritty of the makeup of a rom-com and distill it as much as possible. We’ll be watching them all in class during the last week. Yes, Celia?”

You all turn to look at Celia, who sits in the third row, second seat from the left. “This is a partner project, right?” 

Well. That’s the one downside. As much as you know that cooperation is an important life skill, you would much rather prefer to produce the entire movie yourself. But you love Pollack and you already know you’re on track to get a good grade in this class, so whatever. You’ll deal. 

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

“Yes,” Pollack affirms, “and with that excellent segue, I will now announce your partners.”

Shit. 

Pollack pulls out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket, like she had just come up with the arrangements on the morning train ride to campus, and begins reading. Slowly, as she ticks off names one by one, everyone begins to turn around, locking eyes with their partners and exchanging guess-it’s-us-two-huh? smiles. Everyone except—

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

You freeze in place. You look up at your professor, eyes wide and shocked, because nobody knows better than her how much the two of you have been butting heads this entire semester. But when you meet her eyes and she smiles knowingly, shrugging her shoulders, you know you’re doomed. Hesitantly, almost like you’re scared to find out what happens when you do, you shift your gaze towards where Jungkook sits in the front right corner of the room. Only he’s not just sitting. He’s turned a full one hundred-and-eighty degrees just so he can smirk at you from across the room, a glint in his eye. 

Jungkook laughs at your cold-stone, shellshocked reaction. Like he knows how much you’ll hate this, and you know how much he’ll enjoy it. 

From here, you actually have a pretty good view of his laptop screen, brightness turned all the way up because he apparently doesn’t care who reads his screen. Or maybe he just likes showing off how much he writes so he can establish dominance over everyone else. Except you, of course. But when you look a little closer, you notice he’s got the class discussion board for the week up on his Chrome window, two paragraphs typed into the text box. 

Right above is your response to his comment. 

Is that what he was working on? His reply to your reply? Right now? He has the audacity to draft it right here, in front of you, where he knows you can see? He doesn’t even care that you’re blatantly staring at it. In fact, he actually seems to be relishing in it.

You’re so caught off guard by the contents of his computer screen that when you look back up at him on instinct, you catch a wink in your direction. 

Your fists tighten by your side. 

Class is rather uneventful after the whole partner fiasco, as Pollack transitions into your usual dose of a short lecture on the film and then a class discussion that goes absolutely nowhere because everyone is too concerned with the final project to care. Whatever you talk about, you will be hard pressed to know, because you spend the entire rest of the period scowling at the blank page of your Notes document as you try to formulate a way to convince Pollack to change your partner. Would she accept a dozen doughnuts as a bribe? A box is only ten dollars from Dunkin’.

When Pollack finally shuts her laptop screen and begins her weekly goodbye spiel, you are the first one out of the room. Hastily, you stuff your laptop into your bag, zip it up as best as you can (which means that the tops of your water bottle and umbrella are sticking out, but who cares), and shuffle out the room right as Pollack is bidding you all farewell, just so you don’t have to look at Jungkook’s stupid, smug little grin on the way out. 

Faintly, you remember Pollack saying something about getting your partner’s contact information so you can start working, but fuck that. Jungkook knows your name. He can find you. If you must spend the entire semester communicating through Instagram DMs, then so be it. You’ve communicated with men in worse ways. Like through LinkedIn.

There’s a small seating area half a flight down from where your puny little classroom is, a few tables and a bench that wraps around the wall, posters splayed out on the corkboard to the right, staples littering both the board and the floor it rests above. Nobody ever seems to use this, despite the innumerable posters advertising everything from dance troupe shows to financial literacy talks, which makes it the perfect place for you to brood and gather your thoughts. It’s also in the direct opposite direction of the exit. So that’s good.

Taking your anger out on your personal belongings (as opposed to that bitchass smirk on Jungkook’s face), you begin to shove your umbrella and water bottle into the pocket of your backpack, fighting to nestle them amongst your other worldly possessions, like your pencil case and what looks to be a small nest of receipts at the bottom of the back. No wonder it’s so clogged up down there. 

If anything gives you a sense of control, it’s cleaning. One by one, you pluck out the receipts from your bag, nose scrunching up as you try to remember every purchase you’ve made in the past three months. Plus, one of these receipts is from when you bought some dryer sheets from CVS, so that means the five inches of actual information are also accompanied by three feet of coupons that expired two weeks ago. Ugh, what a waste. 

“Don’t look so angry, you’ll have to get used to seeing this face a lot.”

You look up from where you’ve been inspecting an old receipt from a midnight McDonald’s trip to find Jungkook standing in front of you, backpack hanging loosely on his bomber jacket-clad shoulder and that same stupid grin written all over his same stupid face. 

“Can I help you?” You drawl. Great. Now Jungkook can add “saw all her receipts” to the list of embarrassing things he’s caught you doing. 

“Can I help you?” Jungkook fires back with a scoff, blonde hair bouncing as he jerks his head flippantly. “Looks like someone needs to take an Accounting class or something.”

“I’m just doing some spring cleaning,” you sneer. It’s February. “What do you want?”

“What, no ‘Hello, partner’? ‘So excited to be working with you this semester’? I’m hurt,” Jungkook says, placing a hand to his heart as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “I thought we had something good, Y/N. Isn’t that why Pollack paired us up?”

You’re pretty sure she just likes watching the world burn. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide, knowing that Jungkook already must get enough of a kick out of just seeing the annoyed look on your face. 

“Please, like I even need to. You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me during class? I know you must like what you see,” Jungkook flirts, just to be extra irritating. 

While he’s stroking his own ego, you tear off a piece of that CVS receipt, one of the expired coupons for Three Dollars Off Any Shampoo or Conditioner, and scribble your number on the back. The rest of the receipts you scoop up and dump in the trash can to your right before you zip up your backpack and hike it over your shoulder. 

“Here,” you say gruffly, shoving the paper against his chest as you head towards the stairwell. 

“How forward of you, Y/N, you know you could have just asked—”

Pausing right before you turn the corner and head out the door, you turn back to look at Jungkook, already exhausted from having to interact with him for five minutes. “And when you’re done jerking yourself off,” you say pointedly, “text me.”

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

You: Wow I have NO idea You: Keanu Reeves?

Unknown Number: haha very funny Unknown Number: it’s jungkook

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

Maybe: Jungkook: what makes you think i’m not doing that right now ;)))

You: You don’t have the coordination to text me and masturbate at the same time You: What do you want

Jungkook: ouch, harsh Jungkook: can’t i just want to talk to my final project partner? :D

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

Jungkook: alright fine Jungkook: just wanna see when you wanna meet up

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

Jungkook: how about friday at 3 Jungkook: in one of the greene gsrs

You: You think you can manage to reserve one of those?

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

You: Do you want a gold star for all that hard work you just did? All that manual labor? You: Fine. See you then.

Jungkook: miss you already <3

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

Jeon Jungkook on February 13th at 7:35PM.

You make a good point, Y/N, but I think you missed the whole point of the movie. It’s not about their breakup or the not-so-happy ending or even Tom’s problems. It’s about the journey they go on and what Tom learns in the process. If you watch the trailer then you’d go into the movie knowing they weren’t gonna last. The results of whatever Tom and Summer do to contribute to their eventual breakup should not come as a surprise to the viewer. The whole point of the movie is that they spent five hundred days together and Tom is now recounting those days to anyone who will watch. And you know who’s watching? People who want to hear a story. About love. And loss. And everything in between. Isn’t that the whole reason we watch romance movies anyway?

Sometimes, you wonder if the garishness of Professor Pollack’s shoebox-sized office is the reason not very many students attend her office hours. The walls are lined with movie posters taken from a theater going out of business, the shelves stuffed to the brim with Disney World trinkets and old film memorabilia. She’s installed these thick red velvet curtains along her single window, making the whole room look like some sort of 1950s movie lair. 

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

You hear the taps of her Converse shoes as they come down the hallway and round the corner into the office.

“You know, Y/N, I was surprised to see you signed up for my office hours when I logged in this morning,” Pollack says as she enters the room, handing you the coffee in her right hand as she takes a sip out of the one from her left. Last year, the film department bought a Breville coffee maker with the leftover funds from a movie showing fundraiser and it is, in your humble opinion, the best investment the department has ever made.

“Why? I see you all the time,” you ask, eyebrows raised. You and Professor Pollack are not lacking in social connection. She’s written you a letter of recommendation and she knows your coffee order. 

“The very first time we ever spoke outside of class, you sat down at my Starbucks table while I was eating lunch just so you could introduce yourself and ask me about my opinion on the Mamma Mia remake,” she deadpans. “We don’t exactly speak through official forums.”

Well, she’s got you there. 

“I know…” you begin, trailing off awkwardly as you take a sip of your coffee. It’s burning hot and scalds your tongue a little, but it’s nice. It’s been cold recently. “But I just thought we could talk… privately.”

Pollack rolls her eyes as she reclines in her chair, back hitting the padding of the chair with a thud. “Goodness, I wonder what you’re here to talk to me about.”

“Okay, please pardon my French, but what the freak, Professor?” You say, because the words have been sitting hot on your tongue ever since you walked into your office and you didn’t think sending an email that looked like:

To: tpollack@university.edu From: y/n@university.edu Subject: what the freak

Dear Professor Pollack,

What the freak?????????

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part. 

Pollack lets out this honk of a laugh, loud and sudden, shaking her head fondly. “Come on, Y/N. You must have known I would have partnered the two of you up.”

“I was hoping you’d let us choose?” You emphasize. 

“And miss out on what very well may be one of the best final projects of the class, produced by my two best students of the semester? Absolutely not,” she says, smiling knowingly at you. 

Even her sudden reveal that you happen to be one her best students this semester isn’t enough to soothe your worries and calm your anger. You’re honored, but you have bigger problems. Problems that start with ‘Jeon’ and end with ‘Jungkook’. 

Pollack looks at your beaten-down expression and leans forward, placing her coffee cup on the wooden desk in front of her. “Listen, Y/N. You’re an excellent student and one of the most talented filmmakers I’ve seen in a long time. Your discussion posts are detailed, well-written, and thought-provoking. I know that the two of you will make a great project.”

You scoff. “We can’t agree on a single thing.”

“Sometimes that happens in life, and you just have to deal with it,” Pollack says sagely. 

“So I can’t change partners?”

“Not unless you’d like to fail the final,” Pollack comments, shrugging. How rude of her to say such a thing, not taking the option to change partners off the table entirely but making it so that if you do, you’ll pretty much be shooting yourself in the foot. Or worse. 

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s low.”

“That’s life,” she corrects. 

“Ugh.” You get up out of your seat, taking angry sips of your coffee as you desperately try to think of another way to get out of it. Are doughnuts still an option?

“I have full faith that the both of you will come up with an excellent project,” Pollack says like it’s some sort of consolation as she walks you to the door to her office. Yeah, right. You and Jungkook spend your free time making snide responses to each other’s discussion posts like it’s nobody’s business. You’re probably the only two people at your entire university that care enough to make replies to each other’s replies. Like Tinder from hell. “You shouldn’t be worried, Y/N.”

“I’m not worried,” you say, completely worried. “I just—I don’t know how Jungkook and I will get along.”

Pollack grins to herself. Does she know something you don’t? Is she up to something? She looks at you as you linger in the doorway, feeling utterly helpless after a meeting that accomplished absolutely nothing, and she smiles. 

“You’ll find a way.” 

Reserving a group study room in the Greene Library and Collection should not be some gymnastics act that involves a warm-up, practice, a routine, and song and dance. In theory, all you have to do is log onto the library’s homepage, navigate to the reservations tab, enter your name and ID number, pick a date and time, and profit. 

Of course, the demand for the study rooms does tend to outweigh the supply. There are over ten thousand students at your university. And only twenty rooms. 

And still, you have the unfortunate luck of being stuck in one of them for an hour and a half with none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

You see him coming into the library at 3PM sharp through the opposite entrance, a little surprised he didn’t show up ten minutes early like he does in class, just so he would have an excuse to complain about having to wait for you. Feeling a little threatened, you pick up the pace so that you can meet his lengthy stride, keeping an eye on his direction so you know which room he’s aiming for.

You arrive at Greene GSR #18 at the exact same time.

“So nice to see you,” Jungkook says, too cheerful, as you reach out to open the door. 

“Mmm,” you mumble in response as you enter the room, flinging your backpack onto the floor by your chair with a thud as you take a seat. The faster you start, the faster you can get this over with.

Jungkook, not at all outwardly discouraged by your clear disdain for him, rallies on happily. “So, what were you thinking for the project?” But he doesn’t even let you open your mouth to answer before he says, “Oh, wait, let me guess: a social commentary on the consumerist ideals that underline every modern movie and encourage the pursuit of an empty dream by abandoning concrete career and personal goals in favor of romantic fulfillment.”

You scowl at him, even though that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. You’re almost positive Pollack’s had enough of seeing college students try to engineer the craziest fake dating scenarios they can imagine just for a class project. Why not do something outside of the box? 

“Well, then what do you want to do?” You challenge, already bristling. Like Jungkook has a better idea. 

“Maybe something that doesn’t scream ‘killjoy’ as much as you do,” Jungkook retorts easily. He opens his mouth to spit out something else but then rolls his eyes and shrugs, shaking his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” you immediately rebuke, pointing at him. “You’re the one who wants to make some sort of generic rom-com for our final project. Besides, I’m pretty sure every idea you even think of will have been done already.”

“Just because something is cliche doesn’t make it bad,” Jungkook says. “I swear, I don’t think you understand what the word cliche even means. A cliche thing, by default, is something that lots of people like. Therefore, it is largely well-received by the general public.”

“Oh, then that must mean that all rom-coms are deserving of a People’s Choice Award then, right?”

Jungkook frowns, getting exasperated. You aren’t much farther off. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so resistant! You know that romantic comedies are supposed to be fun, right?” 

“They’re not that fun to me,” you comment snidely. 

“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud who takes everything way too seriously,” Jungkook replies like it’s some sort of known fact. “Have you ever even been in a relationship?”

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him firmly. Who does he think he is, going around asking that sort of thing? Especially to you! Like you could care any less about what Jungkook thinks of your love life. Intrusive, much? “Besides, you asking that is exactly my point. Not everything has to be about finding love and searching for your soulmate or whatever bullshit like that. Some people don’t really care that much.”

“You act like wanting to find love and wanting to be successful are mutually exclusive,” Jungkook points out. “You don’t have to abandon all of your life goals just to find love, you know. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life for you to even care about it a little. It’s natural for people to want love.”

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

“You sure are acting like one,” Jungkook comments easily. “What, are you about to ask me to pick out all of the pictures with traffic lights?”

“I’m allowed to have my own views on love, just like you,” you say. Isn’t that the whole point of your discussion boards? A forum where you can discuss these sorts of things through an academic lens? A barrier that keeps the two of you from going at each other’s throats when you’re engaging in the class material? It doesn’t take a genius, or even half of one, to know that you and Jungkook can’t seem to agree on anything in your FILM395 class. 

Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘your own views on love’? As far as I’m aware, your view on love is that you don’t have one! What do you even think love really is?”

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious. “This project is about filming a short romantic comedy, about people falling in love with each other. How do you expect me to do that if we don’t reach a mutual agreement on what love is?”

You scoff. “There is no way in hell I am going to agree with you on anything concerning love.” Jeon Jungkook still thinks love is all rainbows and sunshine. Cries at the end of Love, Actually even though he’s seen it five times already. Believes in soulmates. Believes there are people out there that were built for each other. He flutters from one person to the next like a butterfly, even though he’s more like a moth drawn to any open flame within a five-mile radius. He’s convinced he’ll find his true love here, in college, just like his parents found each other. 

Yeah, right.

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” He says with an eyebrow raised. “We have a month to make a movie that’s fifty percent of our grade.”

“The social commentary is still on the table,” you point out. Sure, it’s not at all a romantic comedy, but it’s about them, which Pollack said was totally fine. Besides, she has been teaching you the entire semester, hasn’t she? She should know by now not to expect some cushy lovey-dovey story about two people who were destined to be with each other and can overcome all obstacles with their love. 

Deep down, a part of you wonders if that’s why she paired you up with Jungkook. If she’s had enough of the sappy love stories that Jungkook probably wanted to do, didn’t want to see another cynical commentary on capitalism in Hollywood.

“Wow, what a thrilling idea,” Jungkook deadpans. “Please, tell me more.” His voice is lifeless. 

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like your idea would be any better. Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”

You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts. 

He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”

That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change. 

“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s 

“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you. 

“We’ll be the stars.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.

You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”

“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.

“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”

“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.

“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”

How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts. 

Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.

“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches.

“So, you in?”

You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have any better ideas. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again. 

“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you. 

Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes. 

As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?

You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart. 

Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

When Ruby Rhodes is not six feet deep in The Princeton Review’s MCAT test prep book, she can usually be found at the small bakery five blocks west and two blocks north of your little campus, a family-owned place passed down through three generations. It’s her favorite place, and yours, too, because the coffee is delicious and the pastries are even better. 

Plus, hardly anyone from your school ever comes here, which means the wifi speed is eons better than the Starbucks inside the main food court. 

She’s halfway through a tiramisu and a rerun of The Bachelor from two seasons ago when you sit down across from her. 

“Any good?” You ask, pulling out your laptop and squeezing it onto the tiny marble table in between the two of you. 

“The food or the show?” Ruby asks over a mouthful of cake. 

“Either.” 

Ruby swallows down the piece sitting on her tongue before responding. “The tiramisu is delicious, and The Bachelor is eh. I’ve seen this episode three times already.”

“Then why are you watching it again?” You ask, laughing. Does Ruby think something different is going to happen?

“Because we’re in between weeks right now and honestly, The Bachelor is kind of dry this season,” Ruby says with a frown. 

“You’ve got some tiramisu on your cheek,” you tell her, pointing to the left side of her face where the bright mascarpone cream sticks out like a sore thumb against her dark skin. 

“It’s just so yummy, I can’t help but stick my whole face in it,” Ruby jokes as she wipes her face with the napkin on her lap. The Bachelor rerun plays on in the background, and you can hear the gasps of the women through Ruby’s discarded headphones. 

You roll your eyes. “Why do you even watch that show still? You know it’s all crap.”

“Just because you think it’s crap doesn’t mean I do,” Ruby insists, playing out an argument the two of you have had plenty of times over the course of your friendship. “Watching it makes me happy. So I do it.”

“But it’s all fake,” you say, frowning in disapproval. “The couples don’t even stay together in the end anyway.”

“It’s a totally pre-constructed show, but it’s not fake in the moment. And I don’t expect the final couple to stay together.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough Bachelor seasons to know those odds. I just like watching the ride. It’s cute.”

“You say that about everything.”

“That’s because everything is cute,” Ruby says pointedly. “I like seeing the good in people.”

Ruby’s always been the exact opposite of you in terms of worldviews. The embodiment of a real-life fairy. She puts butterfly clips in her hair and buys herself bouquets of daisies and lilies. She sits in cafes with her headphones in and sketches the people she sees outside the window. She’s studying to be a doctor so she can spend the rest of her life helping others. 

And you? 

Well, the Oscars have always been a bit of a long shot. 

The curiosity eating at you, you pose a question to her. “Hypothetically, if there were to exist a mockumentary on rom-coms and love, would you watch it?”

Ruby pauses for a second as she furrows her brows. Then she shrugs and says, “Only if the two leads fell in love at the end. Why?”

“No reason,” you say, looking away. 

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes. 

“What is it?” She asks, a grin playing at her lips as she looks at you. “Come on, you don’t just ask me shit like that without a reason.”

“It’s for a final project,” you explain succinctly. No need to go into details. 

“You’re making a rom-com for a final project?” Ruby sounds about as skeptical as you did when you spoke to Jungkook. 

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

“But… it’s a rom-com, right? Like, you’re going to be making a rom-com? Where people fall in love?”

Hopefully not. 

“Sort of?”

Ruby squints her eyes, trying to process all the information. You’re not surprised that she has to take a moment to think—you are certainly the last person on earth to ever admit to filming a rom-com. But, as you’ve stated, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary about them. That distinction is vital.

“Wait, is this for that class with Pollack?” Ruby asks. “I remember you telling me you were taking it. You said this was a partner project, though, right? So who are you working with?”

Curse Ruby and her knack for remembering things. She’ll make a great doctor, that’s for sure, but right now you wish she would just forget things like everybody else. 

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

Ruby doesn’t need to think twice about who that is. “Wait, seriously? You’re working with him? Isn’t he the guy that responds to all your discussion posts?”

“Yes,” you say, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. You don’t even like thinking about him, let alone saying his name. The fact that he has to occupy any part of your brain at all gives you a headache.

“Damn, that sucks,” Ruby says, not feeling very sorry for you at all. “So you’re filming a rom-com with him?”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you specify, feeling yourself getting irritated. “It is fake.”

“Just like my shows, huh?” Ruby muses to herself, too analytical for her own good. 

“Listen, you don’t need to fall in love to make a mockumentary about it,” you say, refusing to consider any sort of alternative. 

“Don’t you?”

You sneer. “Just shut up and eat your tiramisu.”

Ruby lets out a laugh at that, this wonderful mix between a wheeze and a honk that makes you smile every time you hear it, even if it’s at your own expense. Ruby decides she’s had enough of mentally torturing you with the thought of feeling anything but extreme distaste towards Jungkook and goes back to her show, letting you brood in peace. 

You don’t need to fall in love to make a film about it. Just like you don’t need to be a masterchef to film Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone who undercooked chicken. You’re a filmmaker. You can make a film out of anything. Including love. Even if it is with someone like Jungkook. 

Can’t you?

Jeon Jungkook may be a disillusioned college student in love with the idea of love itself, but at least he’s not too shabby of a filmmaker. 

Funnily enough, it actually sort of surprises you that you’ve never encountered each other before. Especially considering you’re in the same major program at your school, a program that only accepts about fifty students per year at most. You suppose that in whatever general program classes you had to take in freshman and sophomore year you just never crossed paths. Plus, he’s a filmmaking concentration and you’re doing screenwriting, so it’s very possible that you would have just never spoken had the two of you not registered for the same semester of FILM395.

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him. 

Sort of makes you wish you had put this class off for one more semester. 

As the two of you kickstart your project, you both immediately agree that you need a third person’s help. You and Jungkook can do plenty, but you are only two people. And there’s nothing in the final project guidelines that says you can’t enlist other people to partake in the production. But you don’t need help with the filming and editing. You need help with the interviews. 

“Is this bedsheet good enough?” Kim Taehyung, a senior in the film program, asks as he’s Command-stripping a queen-sized black bedsheet to an empty wall in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom apartment. 

“As long as it fits into the frame,” Jungkook responds from where he’s standing behind the camera, set up on a tripod to capture a specific angle. “You’re not going to be in the shot anyway. You’ll just be asking the questions.”

“Good, because I look really ugly right now,” Taehyung says with a grin. You roll your eyes. Taehyung must know he always looks good. Even you can’t deny him of that. 

“This is ridiculous,” you say, seated on the singular couch in his apartment. You’re leaning on your elbow as you watch Taehyung fiddle with the bedsheet and Jungkook futz with the camera, the two of them repositioning themselves over and over again until everything’s perfect. “What are you even gonna ask us?”

“I came up with some… preliminary questions,” Taehyung says suggestively. “But I haven’t told either of you what they are so that your reactions can be more genuine.”

“Great,” you deadpan. 

“Wow, someone’s excited,” Jungkook comments snidely. 

“I know we agreed on periodic interviews for the sake of the mockumentary but I don’t know why we have to be so… so serious about them,” you say with a frown. 

“We have to promise to be honest with what we say, alright? Like, actually honest. This sets a guideline for the rest of our relationship,” Jungkook says like it’s no big deal. Like the foundation of your relationship isn’t the fact that the two of you have been engaged in discussion-board war ever since the semester began. 

“Our ‘relationship’?” You say with a scoff. 

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says. 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I promise.” Whatever. “What do you even think is going to happen between us in the next few weeks?”

Jungkook smirks. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You don’t like the sound of that. 

Over the next ten minutes, Taehyung gets the sheet attached to his wall and pulls over two stools from his kitchen counters, old-timey wooden ones he got from a thrift store for five dollars a pop, one for him and one for the poor soul who has to be interviewed. You’ve agreed to do them separately but Taehyung’s apartment is only so big and you are only three people, which means that whoever isn’t being interviewed still has to be behind the camera, listening to the other person. 

Makes you sort of nervous about whatever’s stewing up inside Jungkook’s mind. Wonder what the hell it is he’s plotting up there. 

Once everything is settled, Taehyung looks at the two of you as he asks who’s going first. 

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already grinning. “Ladies first.”

For someone who has spent their whole life watching and making movies, being in front of the camera feels weirdly uncomfortable to you. You’re so used to being behind it instead, directing others as they move around the frame, telling them how to feel and how to act and what to say, that having the spotlight shone on you is like picking through your thoughts with a fine-toothed comb. 

You adjust awkwardly in the bar stool seat as Jungkook stands behind the camera, twisting the lens until he gives you the thumbs-up. Quite frankly, it doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“You ready?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat opposite you, just out of frame. 

“Well, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Alright, Jungkook, start whenever you’re good.”

“Okay,” Jungkook chirps up. “Three, two, one—” He points to the both of you. 

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung begins, his voice suddenly much clearer. He sounds sort of like a news anchor. It’s oddly fitting. “Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You muse. 

“That didn’t answer my question,” Taehyung points out. Good thing the camera can’t see the way his eyebrows raise. 

“I suppose that there are worse things I could be doing,” you reason, which is about as good of an answer as Taehyung’s going to get. What was he expecting you to say? That you were thrilled to be filming this not-a-rom-com with your class nemesis? That you couldn’t wait to see what would happen?

“Loving the enthusiasm,” Taehyung jokes. You wonder what your classmates will think when they watch this back, hearing this unidentified deep male voice ask you and Jungkook questions about your relationship. “Let me ask you this: what’s your current relationship with Jungkook?”

“Uh…” you begin, nervous. Behind the camera, Jungkook has that same stupid, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. You sneer. “It’s… it’s professional.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” 

“I mean we’re classmates. That’s the relationship.”

“That’s it?” You can hear the skepticism in Taehyung’s voice, almost like he’s egging you on to say something more. 

“We’ve had some personal disagreements on topics discussed in class. But yes, we’re just classmates,” you elaborate slightly. It’s not as if anyone needs reminding of that, anyway. They all see your discussion board posts. 

“And how do you expect that relationship to change over the course of this project?”

“I don’t think it’ll change at all.” It’s the easiest answer so far. Requires no energy nor brain power for you to think about it. 

Taehyung nods his head in intrigue. “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a project for a class, not a life lesson.”

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs. 

Taehyung chuckles. “Alright, moving on. What do you expect from Jungkook over the next few weeks as you start working on building your relationship?”

“I hope he becomes less unbearable,” you say, though you suppose that’s more of a general life goal than one that’s project-specific. But it would be nice if he became a little more… palatable. Just so you don’t have to feel the urge to sock him in the face every time you speak to each other. 

“‘Less unbearable’, excellent,” Taehyung repeats. “Anything else?”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, not sure what else to say. What do you want from Jungkook? Obviously the two of you are about to embark on your own rom-com adventure, no doubt most of it his doing, but it’s hard to imagine that he himself (or you, for that matter) will change. If anything, the rom-com setting will just exacerbate the worst parts of both your personalities. Like some sort of curse. “I guess I just hope that the project goes smoothly.”

“I hope that it does, too,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Okay, last question.” Thank God. This interview couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity to you. “Do you think you and Jungkook will fall in love at the end of this?”

“No.” You don’t leave any room for hesitation. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“We’re very different people with very different interests,” you explain succinctly. You’re sure Taehyung will grasp that once Jungkook has his turn and answers all the same questions. “He can try his hardest, but some things are just meant to stay the way they are.”

“Okay, thank you, Y/N, that’s all. I hope you found our conversation illuminating,” Taehyung says, his cue for the camera to stop rolling. You and Taehyung both turn to Jungkook, waiting for his signal, letting out a sigh when Jungkook gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Thank fuck,” you say, hopping off of the barstool happily. You head towards the camera, ready to kick Jungkook off of it, because it’s your turn to stand behind it with an annoying look on your face as you react to every stupid thing Jungkook says. You find that you’re actually sort of looking forward to it. Being behind the camera is where you feel most at home. Making faces at Jungkook is just a bonus. 

Jungkook’s still grinning that same goddamn grin when you approach him, making you narrow your eyes. 

“‘He can try his hardest’?” Jungkook teases, voice all high-pitched to mimic yours. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Ah yes, my mission in life,” you retort easily. Maybe goading him on isn’t the best course of action, but you’re so confident that you won’t change your mind you find yourself actually anticipating his efforts. “Think you have what it takes?”

“Believe me, I do,” Jungkook says with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes and kick him off the camera with a shove, pushing him towards Taehyung as he waits diligently on that chair of his. 

“So, Jungkook, same questions,” Taehyung says as Jungkook gets ready in his seat, fixing the blonde strands of hair that curl around the side of his face, framing his cheeks. 

“What? That’s no fair, he got to think about all his answers,” you exclaim, positively indignant. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice sickly smooth, honey falling off his lips. “I’ve actually been thinking about the two of us for a long time.”

You pretend to throw up on Taehyung’s hardwood floor. 

As Taehyung promised, he asks Jungkook the same questions. And, as predicted, his answers about as far away from yours as the sun is from Pluto:

“Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

Jungkook grins. “Yes, definitely. I actually took this class after hearing from a friend that the final project was a lot of fun.”

Taehyung beams. That friend was him. No wonder he was so happy to sign onto helping the two of you. 

“And how would you describe your current relationship with Y/N?”

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.” 

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

You have to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter behind the camera and ruining the interview. At least he’s not hiding anything. You’ll give him that. 

“So I suppose you expect the two of you to fall in love over the course of the project?”

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

“And you seem pretty confident when you say that.”

Jungkook smirks as he turns to the camera. Or, more accurately, you. “Confidence is attractive.” 

You shake your head back at him. 

The rest of the interview falls pretty much into the same vein as the first few questions. Jungkook is so brazenly determined and hopeful and optimistic it actually pains you in a way, watching him make all of these promises both to you and himself that this project is going to turn out the way he hopes it does. His answers remind you of his discussion board posts, always looking on the bright side of every movie you watch, always finding the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. A movie could be total Hollywood crap, filled with cheating scandals and misunderstandings and betrayals, and Jungkook could still find beauty in it. 

It’s strange. 

For the sake of you not actually throwing up in Taehyung’s lovely apartment, you tune out the majority of the middle of the conversation, having zero desire to listen to Jungkook wax poetic about your non-existent relationship like he’s saying his wedding vows. Only when Taehyung finally remarks that they’re on the last question do you finally come to again, ready to turn the camera off as soon as Jungkook finishes his answer. 

“Jungkook, do you think you and Y/N will fall in love at the end of this?”

“I do.” Wow, what a shocker. “I do, because I hope that by the end of this Y/N will have opened her eyes to the beauty of love, and will find joy in the feeling as something that makes her feel happy and warm. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the things we do together are meaningful. And even if we don’t last, I hope that her memories of us together will be ones she can look back upon fondly and be grateful for.”

You purse your lips together. If only it were that easy. 

“Alright, cut,” you say, voice distant as Jungkook thanks Taehyung for his time and hops off the bar stool. “Thanks, Tae.”

“Anytime, you guys,” Taehyung says with a grin. 

Jungkook comes over to where you’re standing, possibly to grab his camera and tripod but most definitely to rub his obnoxious personality all up in your face. 

“You really think you’re gonna get me to fall in love with you, huh?” You muse, an eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Just so you can prove a point?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, but I actually think that all people deserve the chance to experience love and that happens to include you, as well,” Jungkook responds easily. 

The words put a sour taste in your mouth. “You think I deserve it, huh?”

Jungkook nods, face solemn as he looks at you, gazing into your eyes with those big brown ones of his own. It makes you feel something unfamiliar. Like he’s reading right through your chest, into your heart. You don’t like it. “Everyone deserves love.”

“You guys are coming back, right? So I can leave the sheet up?” Taehyung interrupts after he’s moved both of his bar stools back to his kitchen counter. 

“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Jungkook answers quickly. “Thanks for setting everything up, by the way.”

“Of course. Plus, this is a good background for my nudes,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s mentioning what he’s having for dinner. “Looking forward to seeing you guys again.”

“Us, too,” Jungkook says. “Ready to go?”

“Only because it means I don’t have to see you anymore,” you retort pointedly, grabbing your backpack from where it sits on his couch as you head towards the door. 

“Just you wait, Y/N,” Jungkook says as you leave Taehyung’s building, one of those old-timey Victorian houses that was converted into a whole bunch of apartments. “You’re gonna see that I’m right.”

“Really? About what?”

“About us,” Jungkook says. You come to the stoplight, where Jungkook keeps going straight and you turn right. 

“Us?”

Jungkook grins as you turn in the direction of your own apartment. And, just as the light turns green, he says, “Just you wait. We’re gonna fall in love, you and me.”

If he says so. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

You whip your head around at the sound of your name just as you’re opening the door to your local Starbucks, wondering who the hell is calling out to you at nine-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday. 

As it turns out, you don’t have to wonder too much, because the moment your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight coming from the east side of campus you see Jungkook hurtling towards you, heavy black boots stomping down on the pavement as he rushes to catch up with you. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, thoroughly unimpressed, as you pull open the door, looking at Jungkook heaving beside you as he holds the door open for himself. 

“Just glad I caught you,” Jungkook gasps out between breaths. “Figured this might make a good scene for the movie.”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you remind him easily, getting in the line. 

“Whatever,” Jungkook says. “What do you normally get here? I don’t really go to Starbucks often.”

“Whatever will give me the most caffeine for the least amount of money,” you retort. 

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments. 

“You know that’s how I like to be,” you tell him with a pointed look. 

Jungkook mumbles his acknowledgement as he fumbles around in his backpack, fishing through the large pocket until he whips out his Canon, holding it out in front of him like he’s a dad about to film an embarrassing shot of his child. You look down at the camera just as he pans up to you, a confused frown written across your features. Jungkook laughs. 

“Do you really need to do that here?”

“I’m not even filming,” Jungkook says with a smile, like he just pulled his camera out so he could look at your unimpressed face through a different lens. “Look, you’re up.”

You turn around to find that the woman ahead of you in line has just moved towards the pick-up side of the counter, so you shimmy over towards the barista, ready to get this over with so you can dart out of the Starbucks as soon as possible. 

“Just a grande Americano, please,” you request simply, fingers grasping for the wallet inside your coat pocket. 

“Me too,” Jungkook chirps up from behind you. The closeness of his voice makes you jump, and suddenly you become keenly cognizant of how he’s practically pressed up next to you as he leans over towards the counter. You catch a glimpse of the debit card in his hand. “Here.”

“You don’t have to pay for me, it’s fine,” you quickly say, holding out your own card to the barista. 

“No, it’s okay, I want to. Here.” Jungkook pushes your hand away as he tries to stuff his card into the reader. 

“No, I won’t let you. I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own coffee,” you rebuke, feeling yourself growing oddly defensive. 

Jungkook sighs from behind you. “Oh, come on, you can’t let me do one nice thing for you?”

“Will one of you please pay, you’re holding up the line,” the barista asks in a desperate tone, clearly too overworked and too underpaid to be dealing with two bratty college students like yourselves. 

Jungkook manages to shove his card into the reader before you get the chance to do it yourself, pushing you to the side as he verifies all of his information and takes his receipt. Next to him, you seethe to yourself, feeling a personal loss even though you just got your coffee paid for. It’s not about the money. It’s about your pride. Never in your life have you wanted to so badly pay for an overpriced Starbucks coffee. 

You and Jungkook mosey over to the other side of the counter, waiting for your identical drinks to be made as you try and calculate how much longer you have to stand in the same room and breathe the same air as Jungkook. Seeing him in class, on your discussion board posts, and for your arranged final project meetings apparently isn’t enough, so now he has to invade your personal life, too. 

“What are you doing?” You huff out angrily, turning to Jungkook even as he holds his camera out in front of him, filming the Starbucks. 

“Recording our first meeting, obviously,” Jungkook says like it’s some kind of no-brainer. Like you were in on that from the moment he called your name out on the street. 

“What do you mean, ‘our first meeting’?” You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “We’ve known each other since the semester started.”

“I know, but…” Jungkook trails off unhelpfully, but you pick up what he’s putting down regardless. Right. This is supposed to be a mockumentary rom-com. And rom-coms always start with an introduction. 

The barista behind the counter calls out Jungkook’s name as he places two same-sized cups down at the pick-up station. The cup is burning hot, even with the little cardboard holder wrapped around it like a leg warmer, so you immediately move over to the station up against the wall with all of the sugar packets and napkins and little green splash sticks. Jungkook joins you without question, whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t come here very often or because he just wants to keep invading your space, you couldn’t say. Grabbing one of the wooden sticks, you tug the plastic lid off of the cup and give the coffee a swirl. Watching you, Jungkook takes the lid off of his as well. 

“Are you just going to copy everything I do?” You deadpan. 

“Not everything…” Jungkook trails off suspiciously, looking down into his coffee like the two of them are conspiring something. 

“What are you talki—”

Without warning, Jungkook slams half of his body into you, and without a lid or one of those little green sticks, the coffee sploshes over the side of his cup and drenches the front of your exposed hoodie, hot liquid burning through the fabric of the hoodie and the t-shirt you have on underneath. You watch in horror as Jungkook plays it off like an accident, feet fumbling around on the hardwood floor like he had just tripped. But he didn’t just trip. He dumped half of his Americano onto the both of your fronts. 

“Jungkook!” You say instantly, resisting the urge to scream because you’re in a public place but feeling your skin go as hot as the coffee against your torso as you look up at him, fuming. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Jungkook says, somehow able to regain his balance, hold his coffee cup, and film the whole adventure all at the same time. “That was totally my fault, let me help you with that.” 

The camera is from his perspective, which you suppose is about as real as it gets for something grounded in reality like a mockumentary, but in this position he’s able to make conversation with his eyes, big brown ones wide as he tries to signify what exactly he means when he purposely spills coffee all over the two of you. 

You get it. You’ve seen enough rom-coms to know why he just did what he did, but you still find your mouth agape as you stare up at him, smoldering and angry and a little shocked he would dare be so bold, especially in the middle of a Starbucks coffee shop. 

“For God’s sake,” you say with an exhausted sigh despite it not even being ten in the morning yet. Unable to form any other comprehensible words, you settle for just pulling out napkins from the dispenser and dabbing the front of your hoodie as Jungkook looks at you apologetically. You can’t even tell if he’s truly sorry or just putting on another one of his shows. 

“I feel so bad,” Jungkook says, and you calm yourself down enough to nod. At least he isn’t blatantly laughing. “Can I pay for dry cleaning?”

“You’re really gonna offer to pay for my dry cleaning?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

“It was my fault,” Jungkook admits. Now that you can agree on. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s just an old hoodie, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m still sorry,” Jungkook insists, and the more he says it the more you actually find yourself starting to believe him. Even if he did just spill coffee all over you. “Here, let me give you my jacket—”

“That’s not necessary,” you say as he shrugs off his backpack and begins to remove the bulky denim jacket he’s wearing, fabric worn and soft from years of use. “Seriously, it’s okay, it’s just a hoodie.”

“Yeah, but now you have coffee all over your clothes and you probably have class soon, right?” He says, an apologetic smile lacing his lips. He tugs off his jacket and holds it out towards you. 

“Jungkook, I’m fine, alright? I appreciate your concern, though,” you assure him. You throw away the last of the coffee-stained napkins in your hands and reach down for your backpack, which you had taken off your shoulders somewhere in the chaos. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, almost as if he was expecting resistance, and leans over you anyway. His arms extend outwards as he wraps his enormous denim jacket over your shoulders, the fabric draping loosely over your body. The damn thing was big on him, so on you it practically eats you up. You stand there, silent, as Jungkook adjusts the jacket on your torso, pulling underneath the hood of your sweatshirt as he makes sure it’s snug across your figure. 

“There,” Jungkook says. 

“Thanks,” you say, a half grin playing on your lips. The gesture makes you wonder if Jungkook really was planning on giving up his jacket this early in the morning for the sake of your movie. “That’s nice of you.”

“I hope it makes up for the fact that you smell like coffee now,” Jungkook says, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. 

“I appreciate it,” you say. 

“I have class, too, so I have to go,” Jungkook says, hoisting his backpack on his shoulders as he tucks his camera away. “I’m sorry again! See you around?”

Like you even have a choice. 

“Yeah, see you around,” you say as Jungkook darts off just as quickly as he arrived, rushing out the door before you have the chance to change your mind and give him his jacket back. 

When he leaves you, you find yourself at a loss for words. You stand there, lips pursed, coffee cold, as the weight of his jacket rests heavy on your shoulders. 

It smells like him. 

You should have known he would do something like this. Spill coffee all over the two of you, offer you his jacket, dash off like Cinderella at midnight. Like the opening of the world’s worst rom-com. The start of what is no doubt going to be the most unbearable final project you have ever done.

Plus, the other thing it’s ensured is a second meeting. How else is he going to get his jacket back?

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

This time after FILM395 ends lecture for the day, it’s your turn to catch Jungkook lounging around after class. 

He’s lingering around the outside of the building, scrolling through his phone, a heavy leather jacket resting over a flannel that goes down to his knees and a baseball cap sitting firmly on his tuft of blonde hair. He’s obviously not paying attention to any of his surroundings whatsoever, because he doesn’t even notice you exiting out of the door he’s standing by until you say his name. 

“Jungkook,” you say, arriving in front of him. 

“Wha—oh, hi,” Jungkook says, jumping at the suddenness of it all. 

“Here,” you say, holding out his oversized denim jacket in between the two of you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to give it back so soon,” Jungkook says, looking a little surprised and… is he touched? 

“I was going to give it to you a couple days ago but I thought I should give it a wash first,” you admit to him. 

Instinctively, Jungkook brings the jacket up to his nose to sniff it. “Smells like lavender.”

“Yeah, it’s my detergent. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a little wrinkled—I let it air dry since I was worried it might shrink in the dryer.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, a genuine smile lacing itself across his features. It’s not one you see too often, and definitely not the kind of smile he usually flashes in your direction. Those are all so obnoxious, so full of himself. This one’s different. It’s appreciative. Kinder. Softer. In a lot of ways. “I was thinking, if you don’t have class now, do you wanna grab some coffee?”

You narrow your eyes. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. “Okay, I got it. I won’t spill it on you.”

“Promise?” You prompt. 

“Promise.”

The walk to Starbucks this time is in relative silence, but neither of you seems to mind it very much. You aren’t dashing to catch up with each other and heaving snarky comments as you catch your breath. Jungkook even notices you shiver in the cool March breeze and wraps his jacket around you again anyway, although this time you make a mental note to make sure he doesn’t leave without it. Even though a lavender scent wafts off of the denim, it still smells a little bit like him. That boyish sort of aroma. You don’t think any detergent would ever be able to get rid of that. 

You and Jungkook both get americanos again because you’re predictable and creatures of habit, and Jungkook actually seems to quite like them. He pays and you don’t spend two minutes standing in front of the barista fighting over it. Jungkook seems so determined to pay the extra four dollars for your drink that you aren’t sure if it’s really worth arguing over it for the sake of pride anymore. What you and Jungkook put into making this project a success is what you’re going to get out of it. 

He picks one of the longer tables in the back of the study space, empty because it’s just after the lunchtime rush and most people have classes now, sets up the camera at one end, and you sit down at the other. 

“So,” you begin, not sure where to start because your coffee is too hot to take a sip from it. 

“So,” Jungkook echoes. 

Silence. 

You purse your lips in that awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way. “What do you want to do?”

Jungkook grins. “This is the part where we get to know each other.” 

“We already know each other.” You frown.

“Do we?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I guess we aren’t strangers, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a film major in a rom-com class who hates rom-coms.”

“I don’t hate rom-coms,” you object. “I just think it’s important to look at them from a critical lens.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging you off. “The point is that we don’t know anything else about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color, for example?”

“Purple.” It’s an easy answer. You wore purple princess dresses when you were five, painted your bedroom lilac when you were ten, and still make sure to keep a purple highlighter in your pencil case now. “What’s yours?”

“Red,” Jungkook responds. 

“Cool,” you say, effectively ending the rest of the conversation.

Jungkook, sensing that same awkward silence, suggests something. “How about you ask me something now? We can go back and forth.”

You shrug. It’s not like you have anything better to do. “Alright.” You think for a moment, but then you have the perfect question. “Why film?”

Jungkook was clearly not expecting something so loaded, because his brows furrow, knitting themselves together as he begins to figure out a good enough answer. “Hmm,” he says, lost deep in thought. “I suppose the standard answer would be that I’ve always been interested in it, but I think I chose film because I want to be able to have the gift to tell other people’s stories. Being a filmmaker doesn’t just mean you stand behind a camera. It means you immerse yourself in the lives of other people to create something new. And… I don’t know. I guess I really like doing that.” 

You nod. 

For once, you understand him. Understand why he chose to major in film, why he chose to be in this tiny little program. Because there is so much out there, so much that you will never know, people you will never meet and things you will never see. And it’s a filmmaker’s job to make them turn into things you will see, people you will meet. Who knows the world better than the people who study it? The people who have devoted their lives to learning all its secrets?

“What about you?”

“Same as you,” you tell him. “Film is an art but it’s more than that to me. It’s a new way to look at the world. It’s several new ways to look at the world, depending on what kind of film you want to create and what kind of story you want to tell. I think it’s important to show people that all of the things they see in the media every day are not always reality. And that real people deserve to have their stories told, too. I don’t know. That’s what I think.”

Jungkook grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Real people like us?”

“This project is different,” you insist. 

“I don’t think it is,” Jungkook says. “You said it yourself, we’re making this because it’s important to show people that the Hollywood entertainment they consume is not reality. This is. This is reality.”

You frown, kicking yourself in the shin because what was supposed to be a harmless conversation has now turned into an opportunity for Jungkook to try and convince you that you will, in fact, fall in love with him. You’ve dug your own grave and Jungkook was the one who handed you the shovel. 

“You’re not giving up, are you?” You say, shaking your head, flabbergasted. “Reality is the fact that this project is not going to make me fall in love with you. Nothing is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jungkook warns. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You mean like spilling burning hot coffee all over me?” You ask, an eyebrow raised, a grudge still held. 

“We had to start somewhere,” Jungkook defends. “And you seemed to understand what I was doing pretty quickly.”

“It’s not the worst thing someone’s done to me,” you concede, only slightly. “Besides, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but throwing hot coffee all over me is not really a good way to start off your plan to get me to fall in love with you.”

Jungkook smiles. “All in due time, Y/N. All in due time.”

“I can’t believe Pollack actually paired us up together,” you say with a sigh. “You know she did it on purpose.”

“Of course she did.” It’s not really a surprise to either of you. 

“I met with her right after she announced our partners,” you tell him, “she said it was because she wanted to see what kind of project we would come up with. How we would address our… differing views on love.” That’s one way of putting it. A rather nice way, if you do say so yourself.

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook says, something suddenly flashing through his mind, “what do you really think about love? You know, other than it’s unrealistic and ruins people’s lives.”

“You make me sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge.” You frown at him. 

“I’m serious,” insists Jungkook. “Why are you so pessimistic about it? Have you ever been in love? Have you had bad experiences? You couldn’t have just developed this worldview over time.”

You scowl, feeling yourself getting defensive. “Well, maybe I did. Maybe that’s just what I think. Why do you care?”

“Because people don’t just hate love for no reason,” Jungkook exclaims. “Come on, there must be something.”

Your body stiffens. Who is he to be asking you this sort of shit? Why does he care so much? It’s not like it will have any effect on the outcome of your project. Not like you explaining yourself will change the way either of you look at the world. 

“What’s it to you?” You challenge. “Why do you love love so much? Have you ever fallen in love? Do you think it’s suddenly going to solve all of your problems?”

“I love it because I think it brings people real joy,” Jungkook answers simply. “It makes people happy and it’s beautiful. I love love and I’m not ashamed to say that out loud. I believe in it. I believe in love, and in destiny, and in soulmates. I want that. I think everyone deserves it.”

 You scoff to yourself. “You believe in soulmates?”

“I think we all have our people out there.” Jungkook nods. “Don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. This conversation has gone nowhere, and Jungkook looks as equally dissatisfied as you do. 

“I think love can make us do stupid things,” you tell him succinctly, if a little jaded. No need to say anything else. Your explanation is right there. “We’re just different, I guess. You and I.”

Jungkook blinks at you, eyes wide and a little desperate. Your conversation has remained stagnant and there’s almost nothing left to say. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?” He asks, like it’s a last-ditch effort to get you to believe. 

You freeze. Let the words sink in for a moment. Before you push them out the door and toss them into the garbage. Just thinking about it gives you a headache. Puts a sour taste in your mouth. 

Quickly, you push yourself out of your chair and stand up, grabbing your coffee with one hand and your backpack with the other. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered I’m meeting up with a friend to help her with a photography shoot,” you fumble out quickly, the legs of the chair screeching as you scoot them across the hardwood floor. “Oh, here’s your jacket, too. Thanks for giving it to me again. I’ll see you in class.”

You whip around and head towards the exit, and only when you’re outside of the Starbucks and passing by the window do you dare look back. Do you dare let your gaze drift back to Jungkook, who is sitting there like he still doesn’t understand you. Still can’t. 

You and Jungkook are final project partners and maybe, if you’re pushing it, acquaintances-slash-friends. But there are just some things better kept to yourself. 

We’re reaching the halfway point in this semester and, as you all know, I don’t do midterms. That said, I still want you to reflect on what you’ve learned, discovered, and thought about thus far in this class. What portrayal of love did you find the most realistic? The least? How have they changed the way you think about love, both from a personal and a film perspective?

Y/N Y/N on March 3rd at 6:08PM

Purely from a film perspective, I really did enjoy watching Juno. It was funny and raunchy and just the right amount of vulnerable. It certainly felt the most real. So far, no film in this class has topped it for me. 500 Days of Summer, on the other hand, was in my opinion extremely unsatisfying and left no positive impression. The ending was a bore and Tom had absolutely no spine. It was a shame, because the direction and production was actually quite good. 

I guess I’m starting to realize how real love is not pretty. It can make people just as sad as it can make them happy. Why don’t we show the sad sides of love, too? The sides where your room is covered with a pile of clothes because you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry? Where you cannot cook a meal because it reminds you of a breakup? Rom-coms are, obviously, not the most realistic. But why are there not more films that do cover what’s real? How can we love love if all we know is a lie?

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

Of course, I thought The Big Sick did an excellent job of their portrayal of love, adult life, and the problems that plague us all in the twenty-first century. It was also just as emotional and touched on concepts of race, illness, and being in your twenties and having no idea what direction your life is going in. The Princess Bride, on the other hand, as much as I love it, I do think created a more circumstantial kind of love. Westley and Buttercup mostly fall in love because of their situations. But it remains a classic nonetheless. 

I’m satisfied with the way the film industry has produced rom-coms and handles love. The beauty of it is that love is different for every person who goes through it. It can bring the greatest joy and the most painful sorrow. We do not just figure out what love is by what we see on film. We see it in our real lives, in our parents, in our friends, in couples in coffee shops and cars and on sidewalks. We can love love because we want that joy for ourselves. Because we know that true love will be worth any heartbreak we endure. Is it not impossible for the portrayals of love in these rom-coms to not be real? The way everyone experiences it is different. The only way you can know what real love is, and what it is not, is if you fall in love yourself. 

Early on in your project development, you and Jungkook exchanged class schedules to optimize your productivity and skip over that stupid, terrible part of partner projects where you’re just going back and forth trying to pick a time that works for the both of you until you eventually settle on something ridiculous like eleven o’clock at night outside of the McDonald’s two blocks off of campus. 

It’s been working very well. Neither of you have adventurous-enough friends to invite you out on spontaneous picnics and restaurant dates that fuck with your pre-scheduled meeting times, and Jungkook already seems to have mastered the art of screaming your name when he catches you on the sidewalk so that you can film something. 

In fact, you’re actually beginning to wonder why you haven’t done this with all of your long-term partner projects. Send each other your schedules so that you can settle on a time in advance. No muss, no fuss. 

You and Jungkook are supposed to meet up again tonight, after the two of you are finished with all of your classes, to discuss what scenes you should be filming next. Edited down, you’ve already got about ten minutes worth of footage, but it’s mid-March and the project is due at the end of April. So you need to get this show on the road. 

The door slams shut behind you as you exit the business building, your film industry class having just ended a minute ago. You’ve got an hour to kill before your next class, just enough time to dash to the food court in the center of campus and grab something from the Japanese place in the back corner. You might even have time to browse the shelves in the bookstore if you’re fast enough. 

You round the corner to the main pathway through campus when a voice stops you in your tracks. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

It’s not Jungkook. Instead, in the middle of the walkway are the Eighth Notes, one of the fifteen-thousand (you don’t know for sure, but if you had to estimate) acapella groups on campus. They’ve got mic stands and a table set up and everything. Maybe they’re promoting an upcoming show…? 

You almost breeze right by when one of them, the one in the middle of the group, points right at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. You aren’t one to normally stop in the middle of a crowded footpath, but when, one after another, all six of the boys start pointing at you, you have no choice. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…” 

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

Their voices are smooth like honey, warm and deep, romancing you through their mics as each one of them suddenly manifests a rose from behind them. Around you, people are starting to stare, gawking at you as they walk by. There’s even a small crowd starting to gather, and you swear you can see some people filming on their phones. The fact that this is happening in the busiest ten minutes of the day, as half the student body is walking from one class to another, isn’t helping. At all. 

The rest of them singing in the background, each one steps out from behind the set of microphones to hand you the rose, smiling their classic, old-timey smiles like those old jazz singers from the 1960s, until you’ve got half a dozen in your hands as they continue to sing. 

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

And then, suddenly, all of them are shutting their traps and turning to the left, looking down the pathway as the song begins again, but from one-hundred feet away. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

Your mouth drops. At the other end of the walkway is Jungkook, one of those wireless microphones in his hand, grinning as he saunters down the path like a prince at a ball, voice sweet and thick as the words dance off of his lips. 

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

Your eyes lock from opposite ends of the path, Jungkook stepping closer with every beat the Eighth Notes gives him. It sort of feels like your impending doom and a wedding proposal, all at once. By now a rather substantial audience has gathered, lining the walkway with their phones out, filming Jungkook as he waltzes past them, occasionally turning to capture your gobsmacked expression. 

Every step that Jungkook takes makes your heart race something fierce, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trapped in your least favorite thing in the entire world: a public serenade. You can’t really do anything except look at him in shock, feeling his steady gaze resting firmly on your figure, looking right at you. Into you. 

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

Jungkook, on the other hand, is clearly relishing in this. In the spotlight. In the music. Or maybe just in the fact that you’re on the receiving end of his over-the-top advances. His grin is wide as he takes those last few steps, microphone gripped neatly in his hand, the lyrics warm and weighty as they tumble from his lips. 

“And let me love you, baby…”

One final step and he’s right in front of you, staring into your eyes, letting himself bask in the look on your face. He produces a rose himself—cherry red, like his favorite color—and holds it out in between the two of you. In the background, the Eighth Notes go quiet, leaving Jungkook on his own for the final line. 

“Let me love you…”

The words drift above your heads, disappearing into the sky as he lingers on them, on that last note, beaming down at you. He looks at you, so hopeful, so happy, so endeared, and what else can you do? What else, besides taking the rose from his hand and smiling back up at him? Who are you to deny him of that?

The crowd around you cheers when you do, applauding both Jungkook and the Eighth Notes, with whom he is apparently in cahoots, before they all decide that they ought to get on with their day and head to class. No doubt you’ll be on several dozen Instagram stories by nightfall. 

Only after everyone has dispersed do you notice Taehyung, who must have been here since the beginning, because he’s just turning off the camera dangling from his neck. Of course Jungkook got him to film. Other than your project, what else would this be for?

“Is that the best you can do, Jungkook?” You smirk up at him, only saying this because you can’t have him knowing that you actually kind of enjoyed it. 

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jungkook responds easily. “Thought I would do something spontaneous.”

“And now you’ve taken up ten minutes of my lunch,” you say, shaking your head to yourself. “How spontaneous, indeed.”

“How was that, Jungkook?”

Behind the two of you, the Eighth Notes are packing up, clearly more than happy to have aided Jungkook on his quest for so-called love and getting to promote their group in the process. 

“Great, thank you so much, Jimin,” Jungkook says to the one in the middle, the very first one to sing when you walked out of the door. 

“Anytime, dude. Glad we could help,” Jimin responds. He waves hi to Taehyung, too, as they store their microphones and go on their way. 

Jungkook bids them goodbye as they head down the path, smiling at all of them before he turns back to you, notices the distant, faraway look in your eyes as you twirl the rose between your fingers, press it to your nose to pick up its scent. 

“You gotta admit, I’m a pretty good singer, eh?” Jungkook says with a nudge to your shoulder. 

“You’re alright.”

Jungkook laughs to himself. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn. 

“Think I’ll have to sing for you more, now, hmm? Since you liked it so much?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

You roll your eyes. “Only if you can get Jimin and the Eighth Notes to back you up, again. Then maybe I’ll allow it.”

Jungkook grins. He’s far past the point of being deterred by your deadpan comments. If anything, they only encourage him more. But you, for obvious reasons, cannot give in. At least, not yet, anyway. 

“Okay, go eat your lunch,” he says, nodding as you begin to part ways. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

The moment you get back to your apartment you put all seven roses in an old vase filled with water. They brighten up your bedroom instantly, soft scent freshening up the air. And when you go to bed that night, it is to Jungkook’s sweet, delicate voice, like walking on clouds, like satin and silk, that you fall asleep.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jungkook greets like always, smiling at you as you walk in the door for FILM395. 

“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in response. 

Then, you take a seat right next to him. 

It’s an act that clearly catches everyone off guard, if the bewildered looks of your fellow classmates and Jungkook’s confused expression are anything to go by. Even Pollack, when she walks through the door, gets a bit of a shock, eyes widening when she sees the two of you seated next to each other. 

You suppose all the fuss is understandable. After all, you both sort of hate each other. 

Other than the sudden change in seating arrangement, however, the rest of the class goes off without much issue. Pollack lectures for an hour before you move into discussion, at which point it becomes a class participation free-for-all, with you and Jungkook almost definitely in the lead. Just because you’re now sitting next to each other doesn’t mean either of you are suddenly going to stop raising your hands to rebuke each other’s points. Some things never change. 

Sitting next to Jungkook is not as bad as you thought it would be. For one, he is, for the most part, a rather diligent student. Other than his occasional flicks to his email, an essay he’s working on, or your discussion board, he mostly sits and takes notes and doesn’t do anything else. That, you can at least give him credit for. And even though your elbows almost always nearly crash into each other’s when you’re raising your hands to respond to a point Pollack’s made, discussion isn’t so bad either. 

One of the perks of sitting directly beside each other is that whenever he says something stupid, or saccharine, or just overly unrealistic, you don’t have to just roll your eyes from the back of the classroom while you wait to be called on. You also get to kick his foot with your own, nudge your elbow into his side. And he does the same to you. You and Jungkook are like those neighbors in sitcoms that spend all their free time shouting at each other from opposite windows. Just because your seats have gotten closer doesn’t mean your viewpoints have. 

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

You: Why are you texting me? We’re sitting right next to each other

Jungkook: because we’re in class obvs Jungkook: dont wanna be disruptive

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

After class, you and Jungkook both hang around, waiting for each other to pack up your belongings so you can walk to the tables together. Everyone else seems to sense this weird, uncomfortable tension in the room, because they all book it out of the door much faster than either of you do. You’re almost convinced Jungkook purposely takes extra time to zip his backpack, just because. 

The tables are, as per usual, empty. But you don’t have a pile of receipts to spread out, this time. You and Jungkook take a seat at one of them as you pull out your laptops, ready to outline the rest of the project. 

“We should probably meet with Taehyung a couple more times, too,” you suggest as you begin to brainstorm. 

“Sounds good,” Jungkook agrees. “But we can’t meet at night on weekdays anymore. My dance group’s show is coming up and we have practice then.”

You stop typing and turn to him. “I didn’t know you were in a dance group.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t really talk about it that much.”

“You should.”

He looks up at you at that, eyes wide as he faces you. 

“I don’t know, it seems like something you should be passionate about,” you say. In the same way that you promote the Film Club to every freshman you know, force all your friends to mark that they’re Interested in your event pages on Facebook. Jungkook should want to tell everyone about his dance group. Doesn’t he love it? Isn’t he proud to be in it?

Jungkook doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything at all. 

“We can meet on weekends too,” you say, adjusting to his new change of schedule easily. “This project isn’t as all-consuming as I thought it would be.”

“You mean I’m not as all-consuming as you thought I would be,” Jungkook corrects. 

You shake your head. “No, you are.” He laughs. “But yeah, on weekends is fine. You know my schedule. What else should we do, besides talk to Taehyung?”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off above Jungkook’s head. “Let’s go on a date.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

“What do you mean, “no”? It’s the natural progression of our relationship! It’s the next step in the rom-com! We have to,” Jungkook insists. 

“First of all, it’s a mockumentary, not a rom-com,” you say with a sigh, finding yourself having to correct him rather frequently. “Secondly, we are not in a relationship. I am not dating you and you are not dating me.”

“Okay, but at this point in rom-coms the two leads would definitely go on a date,” Jungkook says, punctuating every word for emphasis. “What’s the harm? It’s not like you’re committing yourself to a future with me.”

“Thank God,” you mutter. 

“Oh, shut up. You probably haven’t been on a date in years, anyway. Why not spend a night out?”

You frown at that. “Who cares if I have or have not been on a date?” Why does Jungkook care so much about the history of your love life? He’s always saying stuff like this, always telling you things as if you’ve never been in a relationship at all, don’t know left from right, black from white. Who is he to be making those assumptions?

“Please, Y/N,” Jungkook begs, looking desperate. “Just one evening. And then if it really goes terribly and you end up hating me again, then we don’t have to do another one.”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. Well, what else are you going to do? You don’t have any other ideas. And you’ve already spent so much time with Jungkook this semester, what’s another evening? Just something else to cross off of your list of things to film. Maybe you can get him to take a cute photo of you to post on social media. 

“Fine,” you concede. “One date. And I still hate you, by the way.”

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good. 

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide. 

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all. 

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating. 

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth. 

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time. 

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince. 

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well. 

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening. 

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely. 

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up. 

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob. 

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins. 

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you. 

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental. 

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him. 

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers. 

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him. 

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out. 

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time. 

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google. 

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful. 

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. 

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical. 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you. 

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him. 

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project. 

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly. 

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook. 

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye. 

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling. 

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too. 

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes. 

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here. 

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film. 

Jungkook grins your way. 

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards. 

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him. 

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook. 

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean. 

It’s new. 

It’s strange. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck. 

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his. 

You wonder what that means. 

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind. 

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried. 

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says. 

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know. 

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this: 

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach. 

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do. 

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this. 

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right. 

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins. 

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to. 

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. 

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview. 

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end. 

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up. 

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it. 

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due. 

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to. 

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard. 

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust. 

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances. 

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin. 

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim. 

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp. 

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out. 

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world. 

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to. 

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight. 

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout, 

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you. 

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always. 

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems. 

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless. 

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins. 

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition. 

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either. 

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up. 

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder. 

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy. 

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part. 

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you. 

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship. 

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done. 

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way. 

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter. 

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day. 

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party. 

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name. 

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way. 

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back. 

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile. 

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps. 

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out. 

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide. 

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place. 

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with. 

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will. 

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all. 

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him. 

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t. 

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you. 

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies. 

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self. 

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless. 

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning. 

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other. 

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says. 

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself. 

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so. 

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now. 

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance. 

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.” 

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly. 

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask. 

He almost does it. 

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him. 

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with. 

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too. 

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name. 

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy. 

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed. 

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say. 

Jungkook grins. 

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you. 

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her. 

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring. 

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time. 

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon. 

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation. 

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on. 

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway. 

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon. 

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing. 

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison. 

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better. 

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed. 

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night. 

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing. 

And that means a lot to you. 

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins. 

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers. 

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good. 

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark. 

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door. 

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to. 

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats. 

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply. 

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. 

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together. 

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables. 

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out. 

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles. 

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other. 

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it. 

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while. 

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand. 

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination. 

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register. 

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home. 

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air. 

 The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point. 

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations. 

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says. 

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends. 

But he need not worry about that. 

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain. 

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other. 

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you. 

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his. 

“Never.” He smiles wickedly. 

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce. 

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever. 

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice. 

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side. 

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it. 

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. 

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall. 

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss. 

You send him one back without even needing to think. 

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand. 

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start. 

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod. 

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned. 

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you. 

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night. 

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you. 

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation. 

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out. 

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got. 

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door. 

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her. 

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open. 

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up. 

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can. 

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised. 

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly. 

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway. 

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production. 

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously. 

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out. 

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand. 

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix. 

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night. 

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons. 

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers. 

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play. 

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself. 

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right. 

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him. 

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice. 

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you. 

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real. 

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place. 

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either. 

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over. 

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat. 

The truth is, you were always a goner for him. 

And look how well that played out. 

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight. 

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table. 

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop. 

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good. 

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy. 

Hope. 

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve. 

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much. 

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end. 

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it? 

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door. 

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you. 

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you. 

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful. 

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought. 

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby. 

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now. 

A brand new frame. 

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now. 

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie. 

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back. 

“Yes,” you declare proudly. 

And so, they lived happily ever after. 

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

[weirdkpopgirl]

Connection | Jisung Fic 1 (PT.2)

Title: Connection (part two)

Genre: Soulmate au

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1422k

Author’s Note: Here is the second part of the Jisung soulmate request. I’m sorry if this isn’t as good as it could be. But thank you for reading ^ - ^

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“Jisung-ah, what’s wrong?” The leader shook the boy lightly on the shoulder. 

“Hyung…I think my soulmate is here,” He said, still looking at his soulmate. He was afraid that he would lose her in the crowd if he looked away.

Mark gasped, “Wait, seriously? Where?”

Jisung hesitantly gestured in the direction of the girl with soft brown eyes and long, chestnut hair. He was still trying to make sense of it all. Was this real?

Did he really find you?

┈┈

You still haven’t quite fathomed the fact that the main dancer of a famous k-pop group was your soulmate. It was hard to concentrate on the performances and mini-games the guys did. But the more you thought about it, the more it all began to make sense. Dancing, schedules, being up at crazy hours. How had you not put it all together until now?

Before you knew it, the event was nearly over. The last part was letting the VIPs go up to take pictures with the members. Excitedly, Seoyeon dragged you with her to get in line.

But you struggled to be excited with her. Somehow with all the craziness that’s happened to you lately, being in this situation was not what you imagined. Jisung had definitely noticed you in the crowd. And now you were mere minutes away from being face to face.

Seoyeon lightly shook your shoulder, “(Y/n)-ah, are you not feeling well today? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

You shrugged her off and smiled, trying to hide the fact that you were trying not to freak out. “Just nervous, I guess,” You said quietly, not wanting to worry your friend.

Stuck in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice when it was your turn to go up. The members greeted you both politely as the staff members ushered you guys around to prepare for the camera. Coincidentally, you were positioned in front of Jisung.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” 

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you heard him speak.

“I—um…” You stuttered, seeming to have forgotten how to form sentences.

The two of you exchanged a short glance before the cameras rolled and the photo was taken just like that. But before you could be led off the stage, Jisung slipped a piece of paper into your hand.

Understanding what he was trying to do, you crumpled the paper in your fist and opened it once you were a good distance away. The note said to meet him after the fan meeting was over. Though your hands were trembling and the apprehension was overwhelming, you told Seoyeon to go first as you were going to wait for the bus.

That was how you found yourself anxiously waiting in the lobby of the venue. After some time passed, you wondered if you were being tricked. But just as you were losing hope, a tall boy wearing a black hoodie showed up. 

“Hey. Sorry for making you wait,” He said, slightly out of breath.

“I-It’s okay,” You heard yourself say. 

You blinked a few times, hardly able to believe that Park Jisung was still in front of you. Before you were never too interested in celebrities and you’ve only become a fan of his recently. Although all his makeup was removed, and his shaggy bangs partially covered his eyes, you still felt starstruck. Which you felt slightly ashamed for being swayed so easily. He was just a normal human being at the end of the day.

Jisung suggested you guys talk somewhere that’s more private. So he brought you backstage into one of the dressing rooms. You were kind of stiff around each other, considering you were both socially awkward people.

“I think I heard your friend calling you (Y/n)?” Jisung eventually spoke first, though he was terrified. He wasn’t used to being alone with a girl. 

You tried not to look too shocked. It just felt weird to hear him say your name.

“Yeah, Kim (Y/n).”

“I guess it’s nice to know that my soulmate is a fan,” He joked, after another small silence.

You nervously fidgeted with the strap on your bag. “I actually heard you singing in your thoughts and that’s how I discovered your music.”

“Oh really?” 

He didn’t expect that. To think that he was the reason you became a fan. If you hadn’t heard him, you’d probably have an even lesser chance of finding each other.

“Yeah, I guess I should thank you,” You said.

Jisung smiled and asked what songs of theirs you liked. He watched as your eyes brightened when you answered his question. As the conversation continued on its own, both of you began to feel more relaxed around each other.

You told him you were attending a university and majoring in psychology. It now made sense to Jisung, why you spent so much time studying. On the other hand, he told you what it was like being an idol and how it can get tiring at times. Though nervous to be around each other at first, letting things flow naturally seemed to work out best for you both.

Maybe it was because you were soulmates. But the more you talked to Jisung, the more you could see yourself falling for him. He pretty much felt the same way.

┈┈

(bonus)

A few months have passed since you and Jisung found each other. Neither of you had much experience with dating, so you took things slowly. It was sort of exciting to see your bond grow. He also let you meet his members who were super loud, but supportive to you both.

One of the strangest things you two discovered was how physical affection seemed to strengthen you. For example, if you two held hands, you would feel energized for the rest of the day. 

Eventually, as you got closer, you guys learned that hugs felt even nicer. Jisung was taller than you, but he was so gentle. Hugging brought you two so much warmth and comfort, especially on tiring days. 

“You know, there’s one thing we still haven’t tried,” Jisung said to you one day. The two of you were chilling on the couch, at his dorm.

You looked up from the book in your hands and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You know…kissing,” He muttered, fidgeting with his phone. 

Already, you worked the courage to give each other an occasional peck on the cheek or forehead. But Jisung had been wondering how it would feel to really kiss you. He just wasn’t too sure how to go about it.

Once you understood the message, a smile crept on your face. Feeling a little daring, you locked arms with the boy next to you.

“Do you want to try and see what happens?”

Without a second thought, he nodded eagerly which slightly surprised you. How were you going to do this without blushing like crazy?

“Please don’t laugh if it turns out I’m a terrible kisser,” You said.

Jisung chuckled, “If anything, I’d be bad at it.”

Nervous laughs were exchanged, unsure of where to put your hands or which angle was best. You took a deep breath and met Jisung’s eyes, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating right now.

“Let’s just take it slow,” You murmured. “There’s no need to rush things.”

Jisung nodded, his hands cupped your face as you placed yours atop his shoulders. To your surprise, Jisung made the first move and leaned in to kiss you. You didn’t expect kissing him to feel so soft and sweet.

It was a little messy at first, both of you being new to this. But it didn’t take long for you to adjust. You found yourself gripping a little tighter to his sweatshirt, as the kiss slowly became more passionate.

Eventually, you realized you needed to breathe. The two of you pulled away with moist lips and slightly tousled hair.

“Was it bad?” You brought yourself to ask, still a little self-conscious.

Jisung shook his head and brought you closer to him.

“I think I must just become addicted to you, (Y/n)-ah.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re soulmates isn’t it?” You leaned your head against his shoulder, wearing a shy smile.

His words were kinda cheesy. But you honestly felt the same. You felt so much stronger after you kissed, feeling like you could take on the whole world.

So consider this little experiment a success?

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part one

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

[theepisceswriter]

Jjk dudes promising just the tip but breaking it like 2 seconds later please!

Bestie I know you wanted multiple JJK characters, and I’ll probably still give it you, but I had something similar to this in my notes with Toji, so I decided to make a little ficlet with him instead surrounding this idea....kinda.

Synopsis: Your toxic baby daddy Toji hits you up after not being heard from for months with that smirk on his face that you just can’t resist.

TW: Dub con might apply here but I did my best to make reader aware that Toji was 99.99% lying abt just the tip and knew abt his intentions from the start, but I guess you can interpret it how you want, fembodied!reader, Toji is a trigger warning on his own, manipulation, implied that you have a child together, pregnancy mention briefly, breeding kink, toxic relationship, 18+, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.7k

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you flipped your phone over to see ‘TOJI WOJI 🥺🧸🥰....is FaceTiming you.’ Whatever he was calling for couldn’t have been important or even worth your time listening to at all. It was edging on 12 am in the morning, the ungodly hours of the night where sin ran rampant and thoughts became loud as the world around you silenced, a concoction of emotions that meant nothing good. Especially when the last time you received a phone call from him this late it resulted in a booty call that led to you pregnant with a child that Toji barely came to see. Still, you found your thumb lingering over the green answer button and faintly tapping on it, hoping that it wouldn’t go through, but instead, you were met with the sight of Toji. The raven locks on his hair poking out like always, the same old scar over his lip, and the same basic black tee decorating his body. He looked exactly the same as you had last seen him except the outside lights of the world illuminated his face as he appeared to be in what you assumed was the driver’s seat of his car. You felt your heart clench in your chest, memories of your relationship before he up and dipped on you clouding your mind to the point where you were damn near in tears wondering why it had to end so abruptly; why he left you the way he did. But those tears were soon pushed back by with an anger that had you ready to hang up in his face. You were so conflicted when it came to him, always had been.

“What do you want Toji?”

“You. I miss you, y/n. I’ve been thinking a lot about you and our family.” God, here he went with this bullshit again. Just when you thought the cycle was over he always popped up again, little white lies about missing you and his child so he could find solace in your bed for a week or two before dipping like he always did. Apparently, he wanted to come in and talk things out, just talk and try to redeem your relationship. You knew he was just telling you everything you wanted to hear with an ulterior motive behind his words, but you couldn’t resist that grin on his lips and the compliments of how nice you looked even in your nightclothes.

He was too good at this because the next thing you knew he was sitting on the couch in your living room with his legs manspreading out and trying to inch his way closer to where you sat on the opposite end. Your arms crossed and staring daggers into him while all he did was look at you as fondly as he could, as if he were genuinely envisioning a future with you and the child he left you within this moment.

“What the fuck do you really want Toji?” Your voice had a bite to it that left him smirking at your attitude and digging deeper into his mind to pull out lines he knew you wanted to hear, lines he knew would get him that satisfactory ending of you giving into his sweet talk and bold advances as he scooted a couple of inches closer to you. So close that his hand was able to rest on the part of your left thigh that the shorts you were wearing left exposed, gently kneading the area with his palm.

“You know you look good right?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes ready to push his hand off of you but his other hand blocked you from doing so, bringing both of your arms over your head and adjusting the two of you so that you were now smushed between him and the cushioning of the couch. As mad as you wanted to be at him you just couldn’t. He had indestructible shackles placed over your heart that tugged with each time he forced himself back into your life just like how they were now.

Flashbacks of the night you got pregnant suddenly came flashing before your eyes. The vivid imagery of the way he had your legs folded to the point where your ankles were by your ears as he pounded into you ruthlessly from above, hand around your neck tightening your airways and making tears form in your eyes. Blissed dazed out in a space that was too similar to subspace, too out of it to even respond to the “I’m going to fuck a baby into you and how ever many I want after that. Use you like the slut you are and breed you so good.” That had left his lips at that moment. 

Which is exactly what he did and here he was again, the two of you in the very same spot shimmied out of your clothes, and him ready to fuck a baby into you again once more.

“I just want you.” When he says it like that, voice soft and laced with what you hope to be some form of honesty, it’s easy to pretend like this is okay in a relationship—if that’s what you could even call this. That if you squinted your eyes hard enough and looked past Toji’s flaws that all this pain and suffering he put you through in the end would be worth it. Your feelings changing for him with each entrance and exit he made in your life. Always wondering what the two of you could’ve been if he was a better man. You had to be soulmates, there was no other explanation for why you kept coming back to each other. At least not any logical one that you could think of.

All the logical thinking left your mind the moment he pressed his lips to yours, those oh so soft lips that you missed and craved badly on nights when other men’s lips couldn’t contort to yours the way that he did.

This is exactly what he wanted—his gentle caresses and touch to distract you from the real reason why he was here. Which was only to use your body how he wanted before he went on with his life, not thinking about you again until he got horny once more. And it was the touch of his cold hands against your skin, working its way up to grope at your enlarged breast, that brought you back to this realization. Lips moving off of his immediately and backing up against the arm of the couch. Your lips opened in protest, only to be cut off by him speaking up first.

“You don’t understand how much I’ve missed your touch—your body. Do you know how much gorgeous you’ve become with a post-pregnancy body? Just looking at you is driving me crazy.” He continues on with his compliments. Each one hitting you straight into your heart and going up to your head to shush those thoughts that scream at you to not fall for his trap, but instead, you fell right into it. Allowing his to resume his position on top of you.

“We don’t even have to do much. Just the tip, I promise. I just miss the feeling of you around me so much.” It’s the first time this whole night that you were able to recognize one of his lies as just that, a bold-faced lie. You knew how he got when he was in the mood, how dark and clouded his mind got with lust to the point where he was a whole different Toji. But you let him believe that you believed that, a small okay leaving your lips along with a nod as you accepted his lips on yours once more; his tongue slipping past your lips to find yours, gently sucking on it and letting out a light moan at the familiarity of it. He didn’t even have to use his hands to guide his cock to your entrance because he was just that big, breaking away from the kiss to look at where the two of you connected and using his hips to guide his erect tip inside of the warmth of your cunt. For a minute, maybe even less, he kept his “promise” of inserting only his tip, but the feeling of your walls gripping on only the tip of his cock was enough for him to go crazy. Something on the verge of a whimper and a moan leaving his lips. He needed more of you and he was going to have more of you. Disregarding his promise like you predicted, he ruthlessly bucked his hips up against yours, his whole length entering you with ease from the build-up of your arousal that had taken the physical form of wetness.

“Pussy so wet just for me that you swallowed me whole.” He tried to pin it on you and if you weren’t stuffed to the brim with him right now maybe you would’ve rolled your eyes and told him how dumb he sounded, but you went along with it. He didn’t even give you time to adjust to him because even after months without touching each other he knew the pussy that he trained with constant fucking every week would remember his shape and form, adjusting your legs so they were folded up against your stomach and immediately getting to work.

“I might have to put another baby in you if this is what post-pregnancy pussy feels like. You feel so good and right around my cock, baby.”

Each thrust was like heaven on earth, his cock curved in just the right spots to his every sensitive area inside of you that left your toes curling and a faint white creamy line begin to form at the base of his cock. It had been so long since you’ve had a nice good fucking. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full, so good to the point where tears formed around the edges of your eyes. No one, not even the toys you had spent $100’s on tucked away in your closet, came close to the affect that he had on your body.

He always knew just what to do and just what to say to have you crumbling underneath him. One of your favorite but also most disliked quality that he possessed.

[levi-ish]

Enough is Enough | Jean Kirstein

Summary: It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

Pairing: Jean X Reader

Genre: [+18] angst, smut

Warnings: manipulation, cheating

Masterlist

“Enough is enough.”

It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

He never complained. He would always open the door for you to come in and lay all your sorrows onto him, crying while stuffing your mouth with ice cream and cheap wine until you felt sick, the same routine every time, like it was scheduled. Jean liked to joke about you being his own thunderstorm, that came around and shook everything up — but in truth, it was because you were a mess that was destroying everything around you.

He never complained. He would put you to bed after getting sick because of all the alcohol in your system, give you aspirins and water to make you feel better the next morning, give you the best duvet, the fuzzy one so you would feel better while cuddling it and leave the room all to yourself. He didn’t want to intrude, but would check on you every 30 minutes, to make sure you hadn’t thrown up all over the place.

He never complained. He didn’t mind that he had the work next morning, or that he had classes earlier the day, because it took only one smile from you and he was done for the week.

It would take only a smile and you were gone, as if you were never there in the first place, back in some guys arms again as you held the same genuine smile. As if you were meant to be there in the first place.

It took you three years to admit that you were broken.

For years Jean secretly hoped you would realize how bad you were hurting yourself, fingering your own wounds like it was pleasurable. Playing in your own blood as guys threw themselves upon you, offering amazing things, like you were a shiny new toy that became dull overnight.

But then, three years ago, you were introduced to his friend group, in a house party that was too big for you two, almost overbearing, and when Jean went to grab you a drink, a knight in a shining armor introduced himself as Eren, and suddenly, things changed—

—for the worse.

Eren was the same, but he held his face high, his ego above his head as he spoke to anyone. You’d get that feeling of comfort instantly, as if he was your soulmate or whatever, and that was the problem — that he was able to make you his as soon as he landed his eyes on you.

You told Jean yourself about the things you would hear: ‘you’re perfect’, ‘I’m yours’, ‘we are meant to be’, ‘you can trust me’; and all that repeated itself whenever he fucked up. And he did. Real bad.

He never bothered to make it official, he knew he had you on his feet, worshiping his every movement and serving as a rug for him to step on without care. He would hook up with random girls at parties, bars, places where you could watch from afar and suffer from the same heartbreak. But as soon as he was done, he would go back to you, hold your hands and make you feel as though you were to blame for his actions, and that taking him back was the best you could do.

And that sickened Jean.

It wasn’t because he was in love with you, no, but because he couldn’t stand to watch you break your face every time and collect your pieces to glue them back, hoping they would stay the same. He knew how bad it hurt you, and how bad it felt to feel unrequited. He just wished things were different.

So he did the same thing he would do every time you came; he put on the same old mask and held you tight in his arms as you cried deeply.

But this time, it wasn’t like the others.

You looked up from hiding in his chest, eyes teary and reddening from all the crying as you both laid on the floor, only supported by each others bodies. You had this angry rush going through your veins and being explicitly shown in your gaze, but there was something soft inside, something like peaking curiosity, like there was something you weren’t all that sure that moment.

“Enough is enough” you said as you stared right into his soul. Jean was confused, he had never seen this look, this thundering inside your orbs, like something was about to breakthrough and leave a mess behind. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Jean put one of his hands on your cheek, wiping the running tears from your face with his thumb and you leaned into his palm, now holding his wrist with your two hands, eyes never leaving him.

“Take me, Jean. Please” you pleaded as her nails dug into his skin, and now he was more confused than ever. His blood rushed through his veins faster than before and he swore that his muscles would burn his skin apart.

Wha—

“Make me forget” you moved her fingers to his face, holding his jaw in place and sniffing, containing your tears so they wouldn’t fall once more.

“I-I can’t!” He managed to say, shaking his head, and holding your forearms. “You’re blinded by the sadness, I—”

“I know what I want!” you stated, your tone was firm and self-assured, making every hair on his body stand as your eyes shot bullets through his. “I need you, Jean. You’re the one. I know you’ll make it all go away.”

You didn’t give him any warnings before connecting your lips. It was everything he ever imagined and more; the softness, the velvety tongue, the way your rhythm seemed to match his as you both held onto each other like your lives depended on it. He almost went crazy when your fingers started to explore his honeyed strands, holding his head in place while you commanded every move.

Jean snapped out of his trance and put his hands on your back, grasping your body with such tightness, as if you would run away, but the way your mouths danced together, it made him feel calmer about his fears and give in.

He loved the way you made he feel, as you praised him with cold fingertips and gave him truth in your comfort with every peck, butterfly touches flew through his skin while your whimpers began to grow. His arms hugged your small form as you climbed on his thighs to straddle him, shooting goosebumps on the poor man.

You leaned back for a moment, watching his moonlit face as his lips were covered in a shiny gleam, the same as yours. His hands moved to your waist, grabbing the fat there and massaging just above the bone as you took off your jacket without breaking eye contact, heading to the t-shirt you were wearing.

He didn’t want to look down, not wanting to disrespect you in any form, until you guided his big hands to your bare breasts, feeling the hotness of his palms as he grabbed them gently. You threw your head back slightly, letting out a soft hum and grinding slowly, making small groans form deep in his throat.

Jean gave you one small look to make sure you were consenting and dove into your skin, his hot mouth engulfing your nipples, giving the same treatment to each of them, rounding the little erect nub with his tongue. He had never been so close to you, and for years that had been the thing he wanted the most, so he made sure to enjoy while it lasted; he wanted you to feel how much he had wanted you.

You held onto his hair as you threw your head back, savoring each of the new sensations you got to experience that moment. He licked a path to your neck, feeling your heartbeats on the tip of his tongue and giving the sweet spot you held there open mouth kisses, praising with silent movements.

He trailed a way back to your lips, mouth ghosting over your sensitive skin until he found his desired destination. You welcomed him back there, holding his face as his hands were firm on your hips, guiding your every move as you felt him growing more and more by the time.

It took a little while for you to decide that it was enough and you stood, unbuttoning your pants and kicking them aside, rushing back to the mess of a man she’d let on the floor. Jean unbuckled his belt quickly as you found yourself sitting back on his lap, giving desperate pecks to his lips as he had pushed his clothes just enough to spring his hot member free.

The darkness and desperation didn’t allow you to stare for too long, quickly moving your panties to the side and sliding down on his shaft, a long mewl leaving your lips as he groaned into yours. From half-lidded eyes, you studied his expression; he had his brows furrowed and held his lower lip between his teeth, his hands gripping back on your thighs as you moved slowly.

It felt amazing, he loved how hot and wet you were, how desperate your hands tried to grab everything they could find, just so they could hold onto your desires. He loved the way your breaths came together as one and how hot the room around him felt. He loved how your nails dug onto his skin, making sure the half-crescents would be stained there the next day. But most of all, he loved how you’d chosen him to bless with your body and soul, and how connected he felt to you.

And oh, the way you moaned his name over and over as you felt him filling you up so good, he swore that was the sight that he wanted for the rest of his life.

“Ngh, Jean” you pleaded, a series of whimpers leaving your mouth. “I’m cumming.”

He held onto you tighter now, feeling the heat that pooled in his lower stomach now rush to his cock, hands going up and down your back as you got off from the closeness and hot breaths. Your grip turned stronger on his shoulders and you buried your face in the nape of his neck, moans now clearer and a mess of words falling from your mouth.

But there was one thing that he heard in the brim of the moment, that stuck onto him and was now the reason of his climax.

“I’m yours.”

You kept on repeating those words amongst sweet nothings in his ear, like a little devil trying to manipulate your thoughts, and then, you two had reached your highs, left dozing off on the wooden floor of his apartment.

It made him the happiest, to take you over and over, all night long, eyes craving into each others as the melodies of your mewls were the only things in his mind. He praised you all night long with his mouth, his cock, his body, and soul, making sure you knew you were loved and wanted the way you’d always wanted to be.

And then it was morning, and as soon as the sunlight hit Jean’s eyes, he knew it had to be a dream, a reality that would’ve only mattered to him. He turned to the side to find the empty bed, thrown covers as if you’d left in a hurry, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to leave behind his beating heart, his whole soul that was handed to you the night before.

Not even a note.

He would sight, feeling the emptiness rush back into his chest as he grabbed his phone, seeing that Eren had uploaded a new story, and he had the feeling he knew what it was already. And there it was, only a picture of your legs on his bed, and it was enough for him to know that he had helped you feed your lie.

You were a thunderstorm after all.

It took you three years to realize that you were stuck in something you’d gotten yourself into. And it took you one night to ruin him completely.